My Cousin's Keeper (9 page)

Julia was not being photographed.

Miss McLennan called out to her.

“I'm not wearing the right clothes,” Julia called back, and at first refused Miss McLennan's encouragement to join in.

“Everybody wants you here, Julia,” she said. “You're very much a part of this class. Come on.”

I saw Julia shake her head again, uncomfortably remembering the argument she'd had with her mom in the supermarket. It had been about this, the school photo. About Julia staying away from the camera.

And then, just as the camera began clicking, Julia stood up and strode over.

“I'm in!” she announced, and some of the girls cheered. She wriggled her way to a standing position in the middle row and her face lit up. I
really
liked that smile. Below her in the second row, Bon smiled as well. The two of them looked pleased and content, as though there had been no bullying on the playground, no arguments in the supermarket. I saw their happy faces and swallowed — hard.

When it came to our turn, I made sure I got into the back row, along with Mason, Lucas, and the cool kids. I figured that somebody was bound to make a face for the camera, or make rabbit ears with their fingers behind someone's head. It was another of those moments where I told myself it was easier hoping to be friends with Mason and Lucas, and all the other kids I'd ever known. Staying friends with them meant not being left out of things.

It seemed to take forever for the photographer to get our class just right, to have everybody standing just so. I watched as Miss McLennan gathered her class together and led them to the library for the individual portrait shots. Of course, Julia and Bon walked away together, and I could see them smiling and talking to each other. I wondered all over again about Julia's mom disliking the idea of school photos so much, and about Julia changing her own mind when it had nearly been too late.

I couldn't get Bon's happy face out of my head.

He's going to be here for a long time
, Nan had said.

Then I thought about Gina and how I'd sometimes see her run up to him on the playground and take his hand, smiling and talking to him in a way she never seemed to do much anymore with me.

“When can Bon come to our house for another sleepover?” she had asked Mom more than once.

But the next time would be a lot more than a sleepover.

“Kieran's got his flame hat on,” Gina said. “His head is on fire! Help, help!” She and her friend Emily fell into helpless giggles.

“Ha-ha,” I replied in a bored voice. “It was only funny the first time, Gina. This is about the twenty-third time I've heard you say it.” And I turned my attention back to soccer practice.

I had been asked to look out for Gina, and also for Bon, while Mom and Nan had dinner out with Aunt Renee. It seemed like a strange way for Mom and Nan to spend a Thursday evening, and I wasn't happy at all about Bon arriving at the soccer field, the taillights of his mom's hatchback bumping away onto the road that led back to the center of town. She had not even gotten out to walk Bon over and say hello; he found his own way to where we were all gathered to watch my dad and his team prepare for the weekend game. Bon looked a bit lost and unsure of where he was, but for a while, Gina and Emily took charge of him with their talk and laughter. And I was left alone.

The sun had fallen behind the western hills, and the playing-field floodlights flickered on. Even with the warmth of my wool cap and winter jacket, I could feel the night chill beginning to rise from the damp ground.

Dad and his teammates ran and dodged in patterns around one another. They stepped quickly to the left and right, before breaking into sprints from the halfway line to the goal zone. They called instructions to one another as each part of the practice unfolded. We watched from the sidelines: kids, wives, and girlfriends in talkative groups, little clouds of breath from us beginning to show as the air turned cold and the evening darkened.

I kept most of my attention on Dad, but also watched Ant and Split Pin, Terry, Ray, Jacko, and all the other guys I knew. I watched their moves and techniques, especially when the soccer ball was kicked onto the field and they played quick, five-a-side practice games. I wanted some of the skills to drift across in my direction. I wanted to be a talented player, too.

Bon had watched Dad and the team for a little while, but then wandered away with Gina and Emily to the kids' play area near the changing room, where he now sat on one of the swings. It moved very slightly to and fro.

There were some other kids from school, boys and girls, who had turned up with their dads. As usual, we waited impatiently to be called onto the field to join in a bit of a game with the team.

At last, one of the guys called out, “Come on, you kids! Get over here, pick a team, and show us old fellas how to play.”

I peeled off my winter jacket and ran across the damp grass, joining the side that Dad was on. Kickoff was the signal for grown-ups and kids to chase the ball in puffing, crazy groups across the field. The wives and girlfriends called out from the sidelines, and there were jokes and laughter from the players as we fought for control of the ball and the crucial passes and kicks that might lead to a goal.

Someone — I wasn't sure who — kicked the ball completely wide of the opposing goal, so that it skated and bounced off the field and across to where Bon sat on the swing. He got a bit of a fright as it breezed past him, but stood up and retrieved it. Everyone on the field was calling to him.

“Kick it back here, kiddo!”

“Don't kick it to him; he's ugly! Send it over here!”

“Come on, give it a whack!”

Bon wasn't quite sure what to do. He trotted over toward the sideline, clutching the ball to his chest, while everyone shouted to him to send it their way. Then Dad jogged across toward him. “Here, Bon,” he called. “Throw it this way.”

Which Bon did, before retreating to the play area once more.

“Who's the girly-boy?” I heard one of the guys ask Dad. “I've seen him — or her — around town.”

“Him?” Dad replied as he jogged back into the thick of the game. “That's Bon — he's my nephew. A good kid.”

Girly-boy
. I smiled at that. It suited Bon, I thought.
A good kid
. My smile dropped.

Dad's friend Split Pin was on our team, and at one point, he neatly hooked the ball and found a gap through to run with it. Finding myself parallel and within kicking distance of the goal net, I called, “Sam! Pass!”

I didn't know why I'd called him by his real name. Those gold letters on the sports record board at school, maybe. At any rate, I had my goal kick foiled by Jackson Anderson.

“Jacko's a great goalie,” Dad told me afterward. “You did well to get that close.”

After practice, when everyone was drinking thirstily from water bottles and putting jackets and sweatshirts on, ready for home, Bon came over and said, “Sam. Which one is Sam?”

I looked at him. His face was set and serious.

“How come you need to know?” I asked him.

“I just need to. I heard you call out to him when I was over there.” He pointed back at the play area, then repeated, “Which one is Sam?”

“The really tall guy putting on the black jacket. What, you know him?”

Bon looked over at where Split Pin stood. “That's Sam?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“You don't know him, do you?”

“No.” Bon sighed. “I don't know him. He's a different Sam.”

Bon was very quiet for the rest of the evening, enough for Dad to ask in the car on the way home, “Are you all right there, buddy?”

“I'm tired” was Bon's only reply, but I heard him in the darkness of our car, murmuring to himself. I stared at him as though he were a crazy person, and he abruptly stopped.

His mom was waiting for him in her car. It was parked right outside our house, and Mom stood by the driver's window talking with my aunt for the minutes it took for Dad, Gina, and me to unload ourselves out of our own car and get inside, away from the evening chill.

“Bon didn't come and have a kick with us,” Dad remarked afterward. “What does he do at school when it's recess?”

“He hangs around with the girls,” I said.

Dad was more than surprised. “Really?”

“His best friend is a girl,” I added.

Dad nodded his head. “Well, everybody's different, I guess,” he said, dropping his gym bag in the hallway and heading for a shower. “Poor kid. He looked completely lost with that soccer ball tonight.”

I heard the noise of my aunt's car leaving and our front door clicking shut.

“How was practice?” Mom asked.

“Good,” Dad replied. “Kieran nearly got the ball into the net past Jacko Anderson. How was your dinner?”

Mom thought a moment. “
Interesting.
We worked through some issues. Made some important decisions.” She glanced at Gina and me. “I'll tell you more later.” Which I knew meant after my bedtime.

We saw Bon again early the next morning.

“Now, that's interesting,” Dad said, stopping on the sidewalk across from the Tealeaf Café. Usually, he kept his eyes on the sidewalk or on the road ahead. He would jog the length of the Sheridan Street shops without stopping, and he would keep a sharp focus on every breath and step. He would only glance up when someone else walked nearby or he came to a curb and had to look for traffic. Dad might pause to say
Hi, guys
to Lenny or Danno as they emptied the bins, but would usually not stop until we came to Apex Park, where he would do his leg stretches, sit-ups, or simply lie on the grass for a few minutes. This was when we would talk — about the weather, the familiar people or cars we'd noticed while jogging, our guesswork about the warm scents that drifted from the bakery. Or we might talk about the approaching weekend game, about players and tactics.

But today was different. Dad had happened to glance across at the café as we passed by, and then he stopped in his tracks. Of course, I knew what he had seen.
W
ho
he had seen.

“It's Bon,” he said between breaths. “What's he doing there? Kelsie's giving him breakfast, by the looks of things. So where's his mother?”

“I don't know,” I said.

“Well,” Dad said, “I might go and say hello. Coming?”

“I'll wait here.”

Dad crossed the road and tapped on the door that had its
CLOSED
sign showing. I could see Bon's alarmed face, a slice of toast at his mouth. I saw Kelsie wave and grin, open the door, and say hi.

I decided then to follow Dad across the quiet main street, and I stood directly outside the café window.

“Your customer,” I heard Dad say. “My nephew. 'Morning, Bon.” I saw him ruffle Bon's hair the way he might have done with me, and then have a short conversation I couldn't quite hear. Maybe Bon relaxed a little; he said something to Dad and nodded before taking a long drink from the tall mug that Kelsie had brought to his table. Uncomfortably, he looked at me through the café window.

When Dad returned, he said to me, “
Breakfast
. Kelsie has been giving Bon free breakfasts for a few weeks now. She saw him wandering around early and invited him in. It's a regular thing. Can you believe that? Bon says his mother doesn't have any breakfast to give him; she's asleep when he's ready to go to school.” Then Dad asked, “Did you know about this?”

A pause, and then I nodded. “Yes.”

“How?”

“I saw him. Other mornings when we were out.”

“And you didn't say anything?”

“No,” I admitted.

Dad took a deep breath. “Kieran, I think you probably should have. How often have you seen Bon over there?”

“Six, maybe seven times.”

Dad exhaled loudly. “Kelsie is not charging him. She's feeding him because she's kind and she cares.” He paused. “I thanked her and said she wouldn't have to keep doing it. That Bon and his breakfasts would be looked after from now on.”

“Looked after?”

“Renee needs our help,” Dad said as he gazed along the length of the main street. “We'll talk about it more at your nan's tonight.”

Before I could ask another question, Dad set off jogging. “Come on!” he called.

Somehow I knew I was going to be told something I wasn't going to like, and that it was going to be all about Bon.

He was nowhere to be seen on the playground as the school day dragged on, and I started thinking that maybe Bon and my aunt were gone, had moved away somewhere else.

My aunt's car was not parked outside Nan's house later that day when we arrived. But Bon was curled up on the couch, hypnotized by the television show he was watching. He said hello in a dreamy, absent voice, and I caught sight of his backpack in the spare room, his sneakers and a jacket scattered on the floor. Gina bounced herself down on the couch, alongside Bon.