Sister Wife (12 page)

“Craig. And you are?”

“Taviana.” I shake his outstretched hand.

“What's your friend's name?” he asks.

“Celeste.” I glance at him. Why does she attract all the cute ones? “But don't go getting any ideas. She's getting married soon.”

“Married?”

“Yep. They marry their girls young.”

“How does Celeste feel about that?”

“She's not happy, but there's not a lot she can do about it.”

“Why not?”

“It's just the way they do things. And she can't leave, she'd have nowhere to go. She doesn't have much education, and she's not trained for any kind of work.” I consider what I've just said. “She'd be in the same predicament that I'm in.”

“Which is?”

“Nowhere to live, no education, no job.”

“That's not good.” Craig frowns.

The difference, I think to myself, is that I know how to survive on the streets. Celeste wouldn't have a chance. I decide to change the subject. “So, how come you're not in school?”

“I graduated last year, on the coast. My parents wanted to shake their lives up a bit, so my dad took a job here and I moved with them.” He pauses. “I haven't decided what to do with my life yet, so I mostly just help my dad out. And balance rocks.” He smiles.

“And build inuksuks,” I remind him.

“Right. Those too.”

“What does your dad do?”

“He's a vet, specializing in farm animals. That's why I'm often in Unity. I go with him on his rounds to all the rural communities, but when I get tired of listening to him talk to the farmers about the weather or which bull calves will be castrated, I look for a place where I can build something with rocks.”

“Celeste has dreams of being a vet.”

“She does?”

“Uh-huh. Poor thing. She'll have half a dozen kids by the time she's old enough to go to university. And with only a grade-eight education, and no support from her parents or husband...” I shake my head. “She hasn't got a hope.”

Craig is silent, studying his rock art. Then he says quietly, “Someone should tell her that anything is possible. Check out the rocks.”

We both study them for a moment. “Not for a girl from Unity.”

“Then that's sad.” I watch as Craig uses his finger to topple one of his mini-rock balances.

“Don't your parents expect you to go to school or work or something?”

He nods. “But I can't figure out what it is I want to do. There's no point spending the money on school if I don't know what to take.”

I nod.

“And I haven't searched too hard for a job,” he admits.

We sit quietly, pondering our lives. “What happened to your real family?” he asks softly.

“I never knew my dad,” I tell him. “I don't even know if my mom knew who he was. And I didn't get along with my mom, so I ran away when I was twelve. I've been on my own ever since.”

“Wow,” he says. “I'm impressed.

“Don't be,” I tell him. “I haven't done anything I'm terribly proud of.”

“Not yet,” he says. “But you must be a survivor. That counts for something.”

I shrug. “Who knows.”

“So where are you living?”

“Nowhere yet. I just arrived today, but I'm pretty sure that I have a connection that is going to help me out.” I make it sound like it is more of a sure thing than it is. I don't need his pity right now.

Something jangles in his pocket. He pulls out his cell phone and checks the screen before pushing it back
into his pocket. “I have to go,” he says, “but I hope I see you around.”

“Yeah,” I say, climbing to my feet too. “I hope so.”

I watch as Craig disappears into the forest directly behind us. I head back toward the park.

THE AFTER-SCHOOL
crowd has arrived, just as I'd expected it to. I study the scene from my shadowy hiding place at the edge of the park, trying to determine which group of kids appears most approachable. The various ages have staked out their own picnic tables and are lounging on them, pretending not to notice the kids at other tables. A few boys kick a soccer ball back and forth, and hacky sacks are being kept in the air by nimble feet. Two of the tables appear to be designated smoking areas and attract kids of all ages.

I finally decide that boys won't see me as a threat, so I approach an all-male table of senior-looking guys.

Someone at the table must have noticed me walking across the park toward them and then said something to the others, because all their heads swing to look in my direction.

“Hi,” I say as casually as I can when I arrive at their table.

“Hey.” A few nod politely, and curious expressions cross some of the boys' faces.

“New here?” a skinny guy asks. I notice the tattoos that run up both his forearms. They might be antlers, but I'm not sure.

“Yeah. Just arrived today.”

“Where from?” he asks.

I hesitate, not sure whether to tell the truth, but because I can't come up with a lie fast enough, I let it spill. “Unity.”

That gets a reaction. They all study me a little harder.

“You don't look like someone from Rabbitsville,” a small stocky guy sneers.

I sense some uncomfortable squirming from the other boys.

“Rabbitsville?”

“That's what some people call Unity,” the guy with the tattoos explains. I notice he's blushing slightly.

“That's kind of random,” I say, faking innocence although I have a pretty good idea what it refers to.

“It's because of all the babies that are born there,” the stocky boy says, looking directly at me. It's a challenge, a test. I feel the embarrassed glances of the other boys too, waiting for my reaction. “As in,” he continues, “rabbits are known for making lots of bunnies.”

I just shrug. “I found it weird at first too, all those babies, and the sister wives, but I was only a visitor for a year and a half, so I'm not really from there.”

“Why would you visit a place like that?” a third boy asks. He climbs off the table and stretches, and I notice the long ripple of muscle in his bare arms.

“Long story,” I tell him. “But I won't be going back.”

The boys seem to relax, and I decide I've passed the test.

Their attention suddenly shifts to another girl who is crossing the park, coming toward us. She has a cell phone
clamped to her ear, and she's wearing a mini-skirt and high wedged heels. She takes long purposeful strides on chopstick-thin legs. Her T-shirt is scooped low and her melon-sized breasts remain surprisingly still, even though her thick blond ponytail swings wildly from side to side. I can't help but think how much she looks like some of the girls I used to work with. When she arrives she gives me a quick once-over, clamps her phone shut and plants herself in front of the boy with the muscles. Their lips lock and the rest of us look away.

“So,” I say, “anyone know where I might find some work in this town?”

“You don't go to school?” tattoo-guy asks.

I shake my head.

“What kind of work are you looking for?”

“The kind that pays money.”

“I haven't seen any help-wanted signs for a while,” he says, shrugging.

“Who are you anyway?” the girl asks. She's unglued herself from muscle-boy and is eyeing me suspiciously.

“My name's Taviana. I need work and a place to live. Any ideas?”

Her finely plucked eyebrows arch and she tilts her head. “Taviana. That's an unusual name. I've heard it somewhere before.” I can see her focusing, trying to make the connection.

Fortunately the guy with the tattoos changes the subject. “You could try the fast-food restaurants. They're usually hiring.”

My stomach lurches, remembering lunch. “Thanks, I might have to if nothing else comes up.”

“Summer's coming,” one of the other guys says. “People will be looking for nannies.”

Now that is something I could do, but I can't wait until summer. “Where can I get a local paper?” I ask him. “To check the ads.”

“Practically anywhere,” he says and points to a convenience store at the end of the block. “You'll find one there for sure.”

“Taviana,” the girl says, still mulling over my name. “Did you ever live in Highrock?”

My stomach clenches. Will I ever be able to leave my past behind? “Yeah, did you?” Duh.

“Uh-huh, I went to Rockridge School. I think you were there for a while too.”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I moved around a lot.”

I can't help but notice her smug little smile. The boys will know all about me the minute I walk away. I consider returning to the bus station, collecting my suitcase and catching the first bus to the next town, but chances are they'll know about me there too.

I've lost interest in talking to these guys now that smug-girl is here. “Guess I'll go get a paper then,” I tell them. “Maybe it'll list rooms to rent too.”

I give a little wave and head toward the road. A moment later a boy jogs up beside me. “I'm going to get a Slurpee,” the tattooed guy says. “Mind if I walk with you?”

I glance back at the picnic table. I don't think he stayed long enough to hear about my life in Highrock. Not yet, anyway. “Sure,” I say, shrugging. “So, what's your name?”

“Hunter.”

“Are those antlers on your arms?”

“Yeah. Do you like them?”

“I'd like them better on a moose.”

He laughs. “Me too.”

“Do you actually hunt?”

“No. I'm a vegetarian.”

I give him a sharp glance. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He grins. “Kind of a paradox, isn't it?”

I can't help but smile back at him. His sense of humor is refreshing.

“So if you're not living anywhere, where's your stuff?” he asks.

“In a suitcase at the bus station. If things don't work out here, I can always hop on a bus and try another town.”

“Huh. I can't imagine that kind of freedom.”

I shrug. “You could do it too.”

“No, not really. I want to graduate from school here and go to college in the fall.”

“Yeah, well, I'll never graduate from school, so college won't be an option for me.”

We're standing outside the convenience store. He's studying me thoughtfully. “It's never too late to go back to school.”

“It's kinda hard when you have to support yourself, and when you're already so far behind.”

“I bet you could do it,” he says.

I smile at him. “Thanks. I like the way you think. But first things first. I need a job and a place to stay.”

He holds the door open for me. I grab the free newspaper and wait for him to get a Slurpee. He gets two.

Back outside, he hands me one of the plastic cups, and we wander down the street together until we come to a bus stop. I plunk myself down on the bench and turn to the classified pages. Hunter sits beside me, literally slurping his Slurpee.

“Any luck?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Everyone wants experience, resumes, references. I don't have any of those things.”

He sighs. “Something will come up.”

I fold the newspaper and slump on the bench. “I hope so.” But my mind is already calculating how long my money will hold out. Not long. One or two nights in the cheapest room, maybe. If I don't eat. “I have a connection here who's going to help me out,” I tell him, though I'm really just trying to convince myself.

“Who's that?”

“I don't know his name,” I admit. “But he helps out the boys who leave Unity. Maybe he even tempts them out. I'm not sure.” I think of the Pied Piper again.

“Oh.” I see Hunter's expression change. “I think I might know who that is.”

“Really?” I sit up, feeling a glimmer of hope.

“Do you want me to see if I can find him?”

“Could you?”

“I'm not exactly sure if I've got the right guy, but my cousin lives next door to this lady who has boys from Unity living with her. My cousin hangs with one of them.”

“That would be great.”

“Where will you be?”

That stumps me for a moment, but then I realize there's only one place I can go. “The bus depot.”

He nods and takes my Slurpee cup from me. “I'll probably be at the park again tomorrow if...” He doesn't finish his sentence.

“Thanks, Hunter. I'll know where to look for you.”

“Well, good luck then.”

“Thanks for the Slurpee. And for tracking down that guy.”

“I haven't found him yet, but I'll see what I can do.” He smiles, turns and walks back toward the park.

I head directly to the bus depot, even though it's clear that Hunter won't be able to track the guy down that fast. I can't think of anywhere else to go. The kids at the park will all know about me by now. I won't be going back there, not even to look for Hunter, but I didn't want to tell him that.

I find a seat around the corner from the ticket counter to avoid the stares of the employees.

The afternoon drags on. Buses come and go. I think about Craig and Hunter. In just one afternoon, I've met two really nice guys. Then I remember smug-girl. My heart sinks a little. I hope Hunter won't change his mind about helping me when he finds out about my former life. So much for a fresh start.

When the sky begins to darken, I buy myself a cup of instant soup from a vending machine. It leaves a nasty artificial taste in my mouth. I watch the clock on the wall as the hours slowly move past. A janitor mops the floor and eyes me suspiciously. A bus drops off some people at ten thirty, and when they've left, I am alone in the waiting room. At eleven o'clock, one of the ticket agents comes over to say they are closing until morning and I'll have to move on.