Split (5 page)

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Dear Bump,

I really need to start using my head if I’m going to become an accountant.

I’m grounded until next Saturday. I’ve never been grounded before.

It all started with an argument during gym.

We were playing volleyball. I don’t mind playing volleyball, but I don’t like to serve. My wrist ends up looking like a lobster tail, and I hardly ever get the ball over the net. I was lucky yesterday, because of Boone and Sebastian’s fight, I didn’t get to serve.

Boone and Sebastian have been sworn enemies since the first grade. Sebastian lives on Gordon Street, where the “decent people live,” and he constantly brags because his father owns the building. Also, on top of that, when Sebastian’s white Adidas get too dirty, his mom buys him a new pair.

Everybody hates him, but no one ever says it to his face.

Except for Boone.

Sebastian has an older brother.
David
. David is the same age as Nick. David and Nick are also sworn enemies, but the two of them were once best friends. They used to share a paper run and build the best snow forts in the neighborhood.

Until Miguel Santos moved to Verdun.

Miguel was only here for a year, but he left a disaster area behind him. After Miguel moved back to Toronto, Nick and David never spoke to each other again. Now David goes to Loyola. It’s an all-boys Catholic school. Nick goes to Monseigneur Richard. It’s a French public school. It’s brown and looks like a jail. Yesterday was the first time Nick and David spoke in two years. I think they might be friends again. Even though Nick had to give back the Chevy Nova on account of what he did to David’s house.

What happened was this.

Yesterday morning, in gym class, we had been playing for ten minutes when Boone’s turn to serve came up. He and Sebastian had both been named captain of their teams. Sebastian’s team was winning, on account of them cheating twice. Coach Angelos hadn’t caught Sebastian’s double hits (he never does for some reason), so we hadn’t gotten the points for them.

Boone’s eyes had shrunk a size and his mouth was a straight line on his face.

He was going to pop his lid.

“Watch this.” Boone grabbed the ball and made his way to the back of the court. “I’ll show ’em.”

I took my position and held my breath. I know how hard Boone can hit that ball, and somehow, I had a feeling he wasn’t going to be aiming it at the ground.

I was right.

Boone looked straight at me, bounced his eyebrows like Groucho Marx, and before I could try to reason with him, he had tossed the ball up, slamming it over the net in a powerful jump serve. We all heard the ball as it bounced off his skin and flew across the court like a stray bullet. Boone’s aim is near perfect. It’s hardly ever off. When it landed on Sebastian’s cheek, I cringed.

Then someone whispered, “Ooh…that must have hurt.”

Of course, Sebastian had to play it up. He fell to his knees and started screaming. “My face! My face!” Coach Angelos blew his whistle and ordered Catherine to get the nurse. Sebastian only yelped louder, moaning that he couldn’t feel his face anymore.

Boone sneered. “How come it hurts, then? Huh? Liar.”

I tried to keep Boone quiet. I knew Coach Angelos was going to get on his case as soon as he was done tending to Sebastian’s swollen, reddish cheek.

“Don’t say-say anything el-else,” I pleaded softly. “Tonight’s Hal-Halloween, remember-ber?” I didn’t want Boone to get detention. We had plans to go trick or treating. This was going to be our last year. “Go ask if he’s okay-kay.” I suggested in a whisper.

Boone only scoffed. “Are you crazy? No way. He had it coming for him.” Then he raised his voice. His words thundered through the gym. “Bastian, you cheater! I hope your face stays like that! You should thank me, now you don’t even need a mask for—”

“Mr. Lund.” Coach Angelos was getting to his feet. His usually warm brown eyes were sharp on Boone’s pink face. “Out you go. Change your shorts and go to Principle Strozuk’s office.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Boone threw his hands up and kicked the ball across the gym. “No fair.”

As Boone passed out the gym doors, Sebastian cried out, “I’ll get you back for this, Boone! You and your retarded brother!”

Boone spun around. “What did you say?” His face was white with anger.

Coach Angelos set his humongous hand on Boone’s chest. “Easy, Lund.”

But Boone’s eyes were on Sebastian, who was still on his knees, glaring up at him. “You heard me,” said Sebastian. “Your brother’s so fucking dumb, he can’t even read a license plate.”

I don’t know how Boone got past Coach Angelos, but somehow, he did. He lunged at Sebastian and fell on top of him. All I could see were Boone’s arms going up and down, and Coach trying to pull him off. “Stop it!” he kept saying to Boone, but Boone wouldn’t stop. “Don’t ever call my brother a retard! My brother’s dyslexic! You and your faggot brother don’t even know how to spell that word.”

Later that night, after we were all safe in our beds, I looked the word up in the dictionary.
Dyslexia: any of various reading disorders associated with impairment of the ability to interpret spatial relationships or to integrate auditory and visual information.

I guess it means Nick can’t read or write without thinking about it for a long time. That’s probably why he always looks so serious.

Boone is suspended from school until Friday.

He’s not allowed to leave his apartment until Christmas.

That’s two months. I think he got lucky.

Here I was, all dressed up in my pirate costume, but no one to go trick or treating with.

I could have gone with JF, but I didn’t feel like taking his abuse all night. Lately, JF has been getting meaner and meaner with me. I don’t know why he hates me so much. He keeps staring at me all the time. His eyes move over me the way Aunt Frannie’s eyes move over the deli counter.

Aunt Frannie helped me with my makeup and lent me her red scarf to tie around my head. I had an eye patch, and she even made a hook out of tin foil to stick inside my sleeve. I wore my black shorts and my dad’s white shirt. I was aiming to look like Long John Silver (I read
Treasure Island
four times since Aunt Frannie gave it to me ), but when I stood in front of the mirror, all I saw was a skinny boy dressed up like a gypsy. I decided I was too old for Halloween anyway. I would stay home and help Aunt Frannie give out the candy.

Our part of the building wasn’t decorated, but the Lunds’ front yard looked like something out of the “Thriller” video. They even had creepy music and everything.

I sat on the balcony steps and watched the street.

“Why don’t you go out there with your friends?” Aunt Frannie asked.

“I have a sto-stomach ache.”

“Red, honey, you’re missing out on all the fun.” She spoke through her fake teeth. She was dressed up as a woman vampire. Her long red dress hung all the way down to the floor, and her wig was black and shiny. “Are you sad about Boone?”

I shrugged.

“Suit yourself, but I still think you look too darn cute to be sitting here moping around.”

Cute? I’m eleven.

“I wanna.”

Besides, I wanted to watch Nick and his friends.

Josh D’Amico, who’s the only boy I know who had a beard in grade seven, wore a hockey mask and a plaid shirt. He stood quietly at the far corner of the front yard, stiff as a statue, and every time kids came up the steps, he would lunge at them, screaming like a crazy man. Terry, who was dressed up as a headless nun, would then grab the kids by their sleeves, and yell, “Trick or treat? Come on, what’ll it be, you little bugger!”

The kids who made it to the front door were finally greeted by Nick.

I liked his persona best.

Nick wore the mask he had made, and a black jumpsuit that made his shoulders seem wider than usual. The suit had a shiny zipper all along the front. His hair was tucked under a black cowboy hat. Nick didn’t say one word. Never made a single sound. He would only drop a few candies into the courageous kid’s treat bag and nod slowly.

It was beyond creepy.

It was
great.

Until Mrs. Lund came back with Lene.

She had passed a few of our neighbors on her way. Some of their little kids were in tears. “Nicolai!” she yelled from the sidewalk. “You stop frightening the children! Let your dad give out the candy.”

Nick nodded slowly. His silence was even creepier than when he had done it for the kids. Josh and Terry, who are terrified of Mrs. Lund, ran off with the Sanchez girls. Nick stayed behind.

Lene was dressed up as Marie Curie. I know because she showed me a picture of the scientist in the Lunds’ encyclopedia. She cut loose of Mrs. Lund’s firm grip and skipped up our front steps.

She sat by me. “Hello, Derek.”

“Hi, Lene.”

“Are you the Count of Monte Cristo?”

“No.”

“Don Juan?”

“No.”

“Our baby is sleeping. The cat ate one of her eyes out, but the doctor said she would be fine without it.”

“Lene? Why is your to-ton-tongue bl-u-ue?”

She plucked a lollipop out of her apron. “I was sucking on this. You wanna taste it?”

“No.”

“How come you aren’t trick or treating?”

“Don’t wa-wa-want to.”

Then, like some kind of slow, deep dream, Nick’s voice dripped down to me. “Come on, Lene.” He leaned over the railing. “Mom wants you to take your bath.” He wasn’t wearing his mask or hat anymore.

Lene pouted. “You know, Nico, baths weren’t common practice in the early 1900s, and I—”

“Inside, Lene.
Now
.”

Even Lene knew not to protest. She got to her feet, and Nick picked her up, carrying her as if she were a doll, right over the railing. “Come on, bright eyes, and wash your mouth. It looks like a Smurf had an accident on your tongue.”

I got nervous.

There weren’t that many kids anymore. Nick and I were basically alone. I wanted to go back inside, but that meant having to say good night at least, and I didn’t know if I could manage to do that. My mouth was too dry. My tongue, too heavy. I sat on the first step, trying to keep my breathing in check, with my hands on my lap, staring at the empty sidewalk.

I could see Nick out of the corner of my eye.

He leaned over the front railing, watching the street. “You want some of this leftover candy?” he finally said. “Nothing but toffee and raisins, but I think I saw a few gum sticks in there.”

I dared to look over my shoulder. “No-no thank you-ou.”

“No? Sure?” He was handing me the plastic pumpkin over the railing. He looked nine feet tall. The street lamp shimmered inside his eyes. “Come on, O’Reilly.” His mouth glistened like water under the moon. “Have a box of dried raisins, at least.”

I wanted to, but that meant having to reach out and take the pumpkin out of his hand. I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but he still stood there, with his arm stretched over the railing, and I had to get myself together. “All right,” I said, standing up. “Than-thanks.”

I took whatever my fingers landed on, and stuffed that in my pocket without even looking at it. Nick set the pumpkin down, shut the front door, and then stood against the wall with his hands in his pockets. I wanted to sit down again, but instead, I stayed by the railing, staring at the ground.

Nick glanced around. He then took a quick peek into the front window of their apartment and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one. I watched the orange fire on the tip of the cigarette widen every time he sucked on it. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled through the nose. He didn’t cough once.

He didn’t say anything else. Just smoked.

Then of course, stupid JF had to show up. “Hey Nico,” he shot from the sidewalk. Nick hates it when people call him that. Only his family can. But JF is clueless. He’s always trying to impress Nick, on account of JF being a schmuck and all. “Hangin’ out, huh, Nico.”

Nick tossed his chin up. “Nice costume.”

JF was dressed up as a Macho Man, but his wig looked like something Madonna would wear. I caught the sarcasm in Nick’s voice, but JF obviously didn’t. “Thanks, man. Your brother’s still punished huh?”

Nick squashed the end of the cigarette on his heel, then walked over to the street drain and dropped it in there. “That’s right.”

“Too bad, though,” JF said, sniffling nervously. “He was only trying to defend you. I mean, Sebastian was just looking for a—”

“What’s that?”

I tensed up.

“Well, I mean—” JF’s voice was smaller now. “Sebastian was sort of putting you down and Boone didn’t like that one bit, so—”

“Putting me down?’ Nick’s eyebrows met over his nose. “What do you mean exactly? What did he say? Word for word.”

JF was going to have to repeat those words.

He was going to have to call Nick Lund a retard to his face.