Breakaway Read online

  “I’m not assuming,” I tell him. “Please help us. You said I could call you if I needed you. Well, I need you now.”

  He heaves a sigh. “All right. But those little freaks better clear out before I get there.” I start to give him my address, but he says, “I remember where you live.”

  He hangs up.

  The doors open, and I run down the hall to my room, where I change and grab the rest of my stuff. I avoid the girl at the reservations desk until after I go outside and start Sunny. She’s frozen solid.

  I won’t lie about the ride home. Highway 33 isn’t busy at night, even on New Year’s Eve, so I speed as much as I dare. Now that I’m on my way, I debate whether I should call Mom and Dad.

  What are you going to tell them, my little voice says.

  I don’t know anything. Would it be better to wait until I get home and see what’s actually happening?

  That’s when I realize that in the excitement of Brittni’s Big Day, I forgot to charge my phone. There’s hardly any battery life left, and I don’t have a car charger. I shut the phone off to save what power is left.

  I hit fog at Francis and have to slow down to 90 km. As the towns crawl by, I sing along to the radio and my iPod, trying to make time fly. But it doesn’t. I think about the party at our house and what might have gone on there. I think about turning my phone back on and calling the police. I think about kicking Gia’s ass. I think about Mark, and wonder what he’ll think about me in the morning. Will he even remember what happened?

  The sensible part of me hopes he won’t.

  –

  It’s nearly three a.m. when I reach Estevan’s city limits. I put on my earbud and call home. No answer. I call Liam but get his voice mail. I try Courtney’s cell next. She picks up on the first ring.

  “Where are you?” she sobs.

  In the background there’s a telephone ringing and deep male voices.

  “Where are you?” I reply.

  “The police station.”

  Too late to hope Mom and Dad don’t know anything about this.

  “Liam called the cops when he got to our place.”

  I take a second to process this piece of information. “Where’s Rufus?” I ask.

  “Liam took him to the vet clinic. I don’t know what’s happening over there.” There’s a brief pause. “What if Rufus is dead?” she cries. “I hate my life.”

  “I’ll be there soon,” I promise.

  When I get to the station, a number of vehicles are parked on the street. I manage to squeeze Sunny into a snowy spot.

  I meet Gia’s mom on the stairs outside. Her eye makeup is runny, and her updo is in shambles. It’s obvious her New Year has not gotten off to a great start. “This is the limit!” she is screaming at Gia, who is right behind her. “The limit, do you hear me?”

  As I open the door, I meet Pam and her parents. Her mom pushes past me, not even acknowledging me. Pam quickly averts her eyes. There is the sharp, unmistakable smell of vomit on her clothing.

  “Have you seen Courtney?” I ask Pam’s dad.

  “She’s inside,” he says.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I ask him.

  “This isn’t a good time,” he says. “Can you call me tomorrow?”

  Inside the station’s small waiting area, a man and a woman are talking to a young constable behind the counter. Another girl from Courtney’s hockey team is sitting in a chair, her head in her hands.

  “We appreciate the way you handled this,” the woman is saying. “I wish I could say the same for the McIntyres. What were they thinking, leaving their daughter alone like that?”

  Part of me wants to try to explain. Part of me wants to tell her to shut up until she gets her facts straight.

  The constable catches my eye. “Can I help you?” he asks.

  “I’m Jessie McIntyre, Courtney’s sister. Is she here?”

  The man and woman turn around and glare at me.

  “It’s about time,” the dad says.

  The constable motions me towards the keyless access door, which he unlocks from his side and opens.

  “She’s being interviewed in that room.” He gestures to the first one on the right. “You can go in.”

  Courtney is seated across from an older constable with a grey moustache. He’s taking her statement.

  As soon as she sees me, Courtney jumps up and hugs me. It’s been a long time since she’s done anything like that.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she mumbles.

  “Do Mom and Dad know?” I murmur in her ear.

  She nods and buries her face in my shoulder. “They changed their flight. They’ll be home at noon tomorrow. I mean today.” She sits back down, wiping her nose. “This is my sister Jessie.”

  The officer steps out from behind his desk and extends his hand. “Hello, Jessie. I’m Constable Michaels.”

  “Hi.” I shake his hand. “Is Courtney going to be charged?”

  “She’s eleven,” the constable says. “We can’t charge anyone under twelve. I spoke to your father on the phone earlier, and he gave me permission to interview Courtney. She knows her rights.”

  Courtney nods.

  “Would you like me to get you a chair?” Constable Michaels asks. “It isn’t very roomy in here, but I can accommodate you.”

  “I can stand, thanks.”

  “Courtney and I were just trying to establish whose idea it was to mix energy drinks and alcohol.”

  My knees buckle.

  “Maybe you better get me a chair,” I tell him.

  – Chapter Forty-four –

  Later in the waiting area, I check my phone. I decide not to read or listen to my Mom’s texts or voice mails. I don’t want my phone to die before I try Liam again. This time he picks up.

  “I was wondering when I’d hear from you.” He sounds tired.

  “Are you at the clinic?”

  He yawns. “Just finishing. Where are you?”

  “At the police station.”

  “I’ll bet that’s a gong show,” he says.

  “It wasn’t as bad as I thought. They had the kids split up in different rooms to get their statements.” I try to stifle a yawn. “How’s Rufus?”

  “He’s good now. The doc gave him something.” He yawns again. “Courtney was scared shitless when I got there. How’s she doing?”

  “Okay. She’s in the bathroom, washing her face.”

  “And what about the other girl? The one who was puking her guts out?”

  “Fine, I think.”

  “At least she didn’t combine alcohol with an energy drink. Straight booze is bad enough for a little kid like that.”

  “Liam, why did you call the police?”

  “I had to,” he says. “They refused to leave, and they got really lippy. I was afraid I was going to kill that Gia kid.” Another yawn. “I was just going to pretend to make the call, and then I thought – what the hell. They deserve it. The cops came right in the house. Said they had permission from the owner. Arrested the whole works and hauled their asses down to the station.”

  “My mom gave permission,” I tell him. “Before she left for Vegas, she told the police they could go in our house if Courtney had a party.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “My mom works for a lawyer, Liam. If there’s one thing she knows, it’s the law.”

  “I know this is going to sound bad, but I’m glad it was Rufus, and not your little sister who got sick. I heard of a kid who had a heart attack from mixing that stuff.”

  I interrupt him, shuddering. “Liam, how bad is our house?”

  “Not great. They stayed in the basement at least, and they didn’t wreck anything. Look, I’m going to curl up on the couch in the waiting room and get some sleep. You and Courtney should go home and get some sleep too. You’re going to have a long day tomorrow.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “By the way, yo
u’re welcome.” He hangs up.

  I stare at the phone in my hand. It’s after four in the morning, and I’m too tired to beat off the guilt, fury and helplessness any more. And the fear most of all. The feeling of having just dodged a bullet. What if I hadn’t pulled away from Mark when I did? What if I hadn’t seen that Courtney had been calling?

  Courtney comes through the access door. There are huge black circles under her eyes.

  Constable Michaels leans over the counter. “Thanks for coming, Jessie.” He looks at Courtney. “Your family loves you. Maybe you better start showing them you appreciate it.”

  Courtney nods and looks like she’s going to start crying again.

  The access door closes.

  “Thanks again,” I tell the constable.

  “Let me know what happens with your dog,” he says. “We had our hands full with the kids earlier, so we couldn’t make an emergency trip to the vet. Remind your friend he needs to come in first thing tomorrow, so we can get his statement.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  We’re only halfway through Grade Six, I think as we exit the building. What’s next? I wait until we’re both in the vehicle before I say anything. Sunny hasn’t cooled down much, but I give her a chance to warm up.

  “Here, put this on.” I reach between the seats and grab a fleece blanket off the floor.

  Courtney wraps it around herself, still shivering. “Do you know how Rufus is?”

  I tell her about my conversation with Liam, wishing the lighting was a little better so I could see her face.

  “That’s a relief,” she says when I’m done.

  “Aren’t you upset that one of your friends tried to kill your dog?” I demand.

  “Nobody tried to kill Rufus,” she says. “He just drank something he shouldn’t have. That’s all.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

  I turn the fan up a notch. The heater is blowing lukewarm at the moment. “Do you know how dangerous it was to mix those drinks?” I place my hands on the steering wheel and push back, stretching my arms.

  “I didn’t drink anything like that!” Courtney yells. “I’d never do that! Not ever!”

  “Explain to me how you and Pam and those other kids ended up back at our place when you were supposed to be at the All-Nighter?”

  “We were at the All-Nighter. But we got bored.”

  “Great.”

  “Will you just listen?” she demands. “You want to know what happened, and I’m trying to tell you!”

  I shut up and let her talk.

  “Gia was at the Leisure Centre with some of the other girls, and she decided we should go someplace else. We planned to be back to the All-Nighter before it ended, when Pam’s dad would pick us up. Nobody would ever know we left.” She adjusts the blanket. “I thought we’d watch a movie or play Wii or something, but Gia got into our liquor cabinet, and everybody started drinking, and I couldn’t stop them.” She rubs one eye with her fist. “I wanted to call the cops, but I was too scared.”

  “You should have at least called Pam’s parents.”

  “I wanted to. But Pam made me promise I wouldn’t,” Courtney says. “She didn’t want them to see her puking.”

  “Yes, so much for pure, sweet Pam. You never should have let those girls come over to the house. You had to know that was a bad decision.”

  “I tried to talk Gia out of it.”

  “Bullshit,” I say. “If Gia told you to throw yourself in front of a train, you’d do it.”

  “I would not,” Courtney insists.

  “Courtney, you need to start thinking for yourself.”

  “I do,” she says. “Why won’t you trust me? I don’t even drink.”

  I scoff at her.

  “You don’t believe me,” she says.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I know I’m not old enough yet. I’m not ready.”

  I aim the defrost function at the windshield. “And you expect me to believe you don’t? You tell me one person you know of that hangs out with a bunch of people like that and doesn’t get dragged down with them.”

  “You don’t drink,” she says slowly. “And you hang out with people who do.”

  “That’s different,” I tell her. “I’ve seen first hand what alcohol can do. Look at what happened to Jodi. One bad decision changed her life.”

  “It’s the same for me as it is for you,” she says. “I have to be strong, so I don’t give in.” She pauses and looks out the side window. “That’s why I knew I could call you. I knew you’d want to come home. And I knew you’d be able to drive. You always do the right thing.”

  Don’t you wish she was right about that, my little voice asks.

  “Courtney, you really don’t know who decided to mix the energy drinks? That could have been Pam or Gia going to the hospital, instead of Rufus.”

  She shakes her head. “I was in the bathroom with Pam, holding her hair.” She folds her arms across her chest and squeezes herself.

  “That’s what friends are for,” I say wryly, putting Sunny in reverse and trying to back up. We hear the unmistakable sound of tires whirring.

  “Get out and give us a push, will you, Sis?”

  While she’s positioning herself behind the car, I put the car in drive. It suddenly occurs to me that this is the best talk we’ve had in a long, long while. Maybe it’s the only talk we’ve ever had like this.

  My sister is no longer a child.

  I’m seeing through a window of what it’ll be like in the years to come.

  I’m looking forward to it.

  – Chapter Forty-five –

  As soon as we get home, I send Courtney down to the basement to clean up while I call Mom and Dad. It’s nearly four thirty a.m., and I am bone tired. Too tired to give my parents details of the police station interview.

  “Can we talk about it when you get home?” I ask Dad.

  “You better believe we will,” he says. “Get some sleep in the meantime, okay?”

  After I hang up, I check the liquor cabinet in the living room. It’s empty.

  “That can’t be good,” I say out loud.

  I grab some garbage bags and go downstairs to check on the basement. Nothing’s broken at least. No holes in the walls. There’re energy drinks scattered all over, and an empty bottle of scotch.

  I’ve heard some real horror stories about house parties. Kids mixing booze and energy drinks and their parents’ prescription drugs.

  Maybe we got off easy.

  “Where’s the rest of the booze?” I ask Courtney, who’s trying to scrub dog puke out of the carpet.

  She points at the bottle. “That’s all they could find.”

  “All?” I scan the room. “Where’s the vodka? And rum? and rye?” I pick up the liquor bottle. “Your friends actually drank scotch? Are they crazy?”

  Courtney sits back on her heels. “Mom and Dad will never let me out again.” Her voice is quivering.

  I feel another meltdown coming, but I’m too beat to care.

  I start bagging cans. “Try some cold water and vinegar on that stain.”

  “Can’t I do it in the morning?” she whines.

  “No.”

  I open the windows to air out the room. I help her for a while, then decide it’s time to go upstairs and catch a few zzzs.

  “Make sure you vacuum,” I tell her. “And don’t forget to do the bathroom.”

  She starts crying.

  Shades of the child I thought she’d left behind.

  “I’m not cleaning up the mess your friends made,” I tell her.

  Even so, I help her with the bathroom.

  It’s six o’clock when I finally crawl into bed.

  –

  I get up at eleven and head for the vet clinic, leaving Courtney to sleep. Mom and Dad’s plane won’t get in until noon, and they have a two-hour drive after that. With any luck, Courtney won’t have to face them unti
l late this afternoon.

  My eyes are red and sore, and my head is stuffed with cotton balls. It’s that hung-over feeling without actually being hung-over. Not that I’ve been hung-over since the day after I drank a bucket of screwdrivers and lost Mark. Alcohol can really do a number on you sometimes.

  When I get to the clinic, there’s an SUV parked out front, but the main entrance is locked. I pound on the glass door and one of the windows until the vet lets me in.

  “Is Liam here?” I ask, rubbing my cold hands.

  “No,” she says. “He left hours ago.”

  “Can Rufus come home?”

  “We’ll keep him here at least another twenty-four hours for observation. Do you want to see him?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “Wait here.”

  She disappears into the back. I stand in the lobby in my sock feet, surrounded by that wonderful blend of animal and antiseptic, and wonder if I dare go over to Liam’s right now. I hate to wake him, but I need to know his version of last night’s events. I also need to thank him.

  I hear excited barking, but it doesn’t sound like Rufus. A door slams and the vet reappears with Rufus parked under her arm. His eyes are listless, but he licks my hand when I hold it under his nose.

  “His pupils are huge!” I rub his ears. “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”

  “They’re not as dilated as they were last night.” She strokes Rufus’ front paws with her free hand. “Liam thinks one of your sister’s friends gave Rufus an energy drink because she thought it would be funny to get him hyperactive. That was a cruel and stupid thing to do.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “A small dog like this can’t metabolize that much caffeine. He could easily have died.”

  Later, while I’m driving over to Liam’s farm, I think about how close we came to losing our dog. I have to pull over for a minute and have a little cry. I know it’s stupid. It’s the first time I’ve cried like this in a long time, and I’m not even sure what I’m crying about.

  Liam isn’t sleeping when I get to his place. His mom says he’s in the arena. She insists I put on an extra coat, and she even wraps a woolen scarf around my head. Old Dan and Little Ann, the two chocolate Labs, keep me company on the walk over to the arena, loping beside me, bumping my legs, sticking their heads under my hands. But when I open the side entrance to the arena, they barge ahead of me like kids on the last day of school.