The Summer We Saved the Bees (5 page)

Even with my headphones on, I could hear Violet’s heated voice. I cranked the volume until it drowned her out and I could only see her mouth moving and the angry tears tracing lines of mascara down her cheeks. She was always so dramatic. It wasn’t like I wanted to be going away, but it was happening anyway and there was no point fighting it. When something is inevitable, you might as well quit struggling and make the best of the situation.

Violet never seemed to get that.

We arrived at the ferry terminal just in time to see the one o’clock ferry pulling away, which meant we had to wait two hours for the next one. Mom and Curtis went inside to the coffee shop, Vi sat in the car, sulking, and I took the twins to the playground area and watched them swing on the monkey bars. Whisper made it all the way across easily, kicking her skinny legs and grinning with delight. Saffy was heavier and less agile but fiercely determined. The tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration as she battled her way across, grunting with the effort.

The weekend’s warm weather had been chased away by thick gray clouds, and a cold wind was blowing off the water. I buried my hands in my jacket pockets and found the little pieces of paper with my email address on them. I’d forgotten to give them to everyone at school.

As soon as we were all back in the van and driving onto the ferry, Violet resumed her argument, picking right up where she’d left off.

“You’re doing this just to get me away from Ty, aren’t you? That’s what this trip is about. You want us to break up.”

Curtis looked at her in the rearview mirror. “That is not what this trip is about, and you know it.” He sounded angry, and I didn’t blame him. Violet had to be the most
self-centered person in the world if she really thought this was all about her.

“It’s not about you and Ty,” Saffy said. She patted Violet’s denim-clad thigh. “It’s so that we can stop everyone starving and dying. Right, Mom?”

Instinctively, I turned to look at Whisper, who was sitting behind us in the single bucket seat. Her eyes were enormous dark pools.

“That’s not going to happen,” Curtis said. He pointed out the window. “See that, Saffy? We’re driving right onto the ferry! Look, it’s like a parking lot on a boat!”

Saffron was not that easily distracted. “I heard Mom say it. At my school.”

“That’s not what I said,” Mom protested.

“It is SO!”

“Saffron, chill. It’s not going to happen, because people like us aren’t going to let it,” Curtis said.

Violet snorted. “Yeah, right. Like we’re so powerful.”

I dug my elbow into her side, hard.

“Ow! Dad, Wolf hit me.”

“I did not.” I peeked at Whisper again. She still looked wide-eyed and scared. I tried to think of a way to change the subject. “Ty’s probably relieved you’re going away,” I told Violet. “You’re always complaining about something.”

“And you’re always being a total loser,” she snapped. “A stupid
fat
loser.”

“Enough.” Curtis inched close to the car in front of us and slammed the van into
park
with a jolt. “Both of you, just shut up.”

Mom shook her head. “Everyone’s overtired,” she said. “Wolf, how about you take the twins upstairs to the play area? Curtis and I have work to do.” She picked up the laptop bag. “I need to update the website, and I thought I’d tweet a photo of us setting out.”

“Great idea,” Curtis said. “Everyone line up and say ‘cheese.’ ”

We all clambered out—Violet managing to stomp on my foot in the process—and stood in a row with our backs to the bee-striped van. Curtis tried to find somewhere to stand where he could fit us all into the frame, which wasn’t easy among the jam-packed cars on the ferry’s vehicle deck. “Okay, kids—smile!”

I smiled. Saffron and Whisper smiled. Violet stuck out her tongue. Mom, who was standing with her arms around the twins, glared at her. “Can we please just get this done?” she said. Her voice was tight, like she was talking with her jaw clenched shut.

“
You
can do what you like,” Violet said. “Leave me out of it.” And she flounced off, pushing through a cluster of other passengers and through the doorway that led to the stairs to the upper decks.

Mom started after her, but Curtis called out, “Let her go, Jade. She needs some time to cool off.”

“Fine,” Mom said. She hoisted the strap of the laptop bag onto her shoulder. “God, I hope the whole trip isn’t going to be like this.”

So did I.

Most people who live on Vancouver Island probably take the ferry to the mainland all the time. Not me though. I’d only been on it once, two years earlier, to spend a weekend with some old friends of Mom and Curtis—people they knew from their Lasqueti Island days. We’d gone to the science center, which had been really cool, and to some market-type place, where we’d eaten little hot donuts out of a paper bag.

“Do you remember when we took this boat before?” I asked the twins as we headed up the stairs.

“I never did,” Saffron said, and Whisper shook her head.

“You were only three,” I told them. “Really little.”

Saffron looked skeptical, so I dropped it. “Want to go to the play area?”

“I guess,” Saffron said. “This doesn’t seem like a boat.”

I laughed. “I know. It’s huge. It even has shops and restaurants.”

“Really?” She did a little hop-skip-jump. “Can we see them?”

“Sure.” I grinned at her. “We can see everything. You want to see everything too, Whisper?”

Whisper’s smile stretched all the way across her face.

Sometimes when I was with the twins, I felt like I could see things through their eyes, just for a little bit. Mostly, it meant everything looked bigger and better and more exciting. Once in a while though—like in the van when Saffron repeated Mom’s words about people starving to
death and stuff—it meant everything looked bigger and scarier. I didn’t think Mom should let the twins hear that kind of talk. Maybe it was disloyal of me, but I thought Katie was right about that.

The three of us trooped through the restaurant and the coffee bar, the gift shop, the tiny video arcade, and checked out the kids’ play area—which Saffron dismissed as
for babies
—before heading outside. The wind was ferocious, and we ran along the slippery metal deck, facing into the wild gusty air and feeling it pushing back against us.

I looked down over the railing at the water five decks below. It was a dark, indescribable color—a mix of gray, green and blue—and you could see the swirls made by the strong currents. We were going between two islands, and the dark water and the gray rocks and the green trees reminded me of when we lived on Lasqueti.

“I’m a kite!” Saffron shrieked, her jacket unzipped and her arms held out like wings. “The wind’s going to pick me up!”

I laughed, watching her, but then I heard a frightened sob behind me. I turned and saw Whisper huddled in a little ball against one of the massive life-raft chests. “Whisper? Hey, what is it?”

Saffron stopped running. “You don’t like the wind?”

Whisper’s wails got louder, her shoulders shaking. I picked her up—she was such a lightweight, just skin and bone and stringy little muscles. “Come on, it’s okay—we’ll go inside.”

She shook her head violently and put her hands over her ears.

“Whisper, what is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?” She was squirming and kicking and howling in my ear, and I had to put her down. Her face was beet red and streaked with tears. “What is it?” I was pleading with her, desperate to make her stop. “What do you
want
?”

Saffron patted her shoulder. “Don’t be scared.”

I wondered if it was the wind or if it was more than that. What Mom had said at the school—it wasn’t like she hadn’t said that kind of thing before, but she wasn’t usually so blunt about it around the twins. Maybe it had really freaked Whisper out. Then again, Whisper often had meltdowns. I looked at her, feeling helpless. “Come on, kiddo. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

“She doesn’t talk anymore,” Saffron said matter-of-factly. “Not even to me.”

I stared at her, trying to think when I had last heard Whisper speak. On Saturday, for sure—she’d said she wanted to paint the van like a bee. That had been two days ago. “Whisper, you can tell us what’s wrong. Okay? Just whisper it.” I bent my head close.

Nothing.

“Saffy, you ask her.”

Saffron shrugged. “What’s wrong, Whisper? Are you scared?” She asked it in a funny baby voice, like she was playing a game with her dolls or something.

Whisper didn’t speak.

It was starting to rain, the drops icy cold and wind driven. I ducked my head. “I’m going to pick you up again,
okay? We’ll go inside.” This time, when I picked her up, she didn’t fight me. She went limp in my arms and put her head down on my shoulder. Saffron ran ahead and struggled to open the heavy door against the wind, and we all slipped inside. I shifted Whisper’s weight in my arms, and as my hand gripped her skinny thigh, I realized that she was wet.

As in, not from the rain.

I decided not to mention it. I stuck my hand in my jacket pocket and jingled my loose change. I still had twelve dollars left from my birthday money.

“Do you guys want to get a treat?” Mom wouldn’t like it—she had healthy snacks for us in the car—but there was still almost an hour to go, and I didn’t think I could handle another meltdown.

Whisper nodded her head against my shoulder. I put her down and we walked in the direction of the coffee bar. The sleeve of my hoodie was wet from her pants. I rubbed it against the dry fabric of the ferry seats as we walked past the rows, trying to dry it off.

Violet already thought I was a stupid fat loser. All I needed was a jacket that smelled like pee.

Six

I BOUGHT THE
twins a pack of Smarties to share—sugar
and
coloring; Mom would flip if she found out—and got myself a hot chocolate and a bag of Doritos. Someone had left a copy of the
Vancouver Sun
on the table, and the headlines were all about wars and people being killed in other countries. I folded it over so the twins wouldn’t see the pictures. My brain felt all twitchy, like it was hopping from one worry to another.

“Yo.”

I turned as a hand landed on my shoulder
. Ty.
And beside him, clutching his arm like it was a life ring, Violet.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted. I looked at Violet. “Mom said he couldn’t come.”

Ty shrugged. “Your mom doesn’t own the ferry, little man.”

“I know that.” Ty had this way of making me feel stupid. He was seventeen, which was practically an adult, and he had
piercings—not just in his ears, but in his bottom lip and one eyebrow and even his tongue. Violet thought this was cool—she wanted to get one in her nose—but I didn’t understand why anyone would want holes in their face.

Violet smirked at me. “She doesn’t own the highway either.”

“Duh,” I said. Violet was only three years older than I was, but she acted like the difference was way more than that. She stared at me, all smug-faced, and I realized I had no idea what she was talking about. “Uh, what do you mean?” I asked. “About the highway?”