That’s what happens. I go to his house, we record enough for a whole bunch of videos about bearded dragons and it’s cool. We have a really good time together. We talk and laugh a lot, but he doesn’t ask me to the dance.

  Or, at least, he isn’t the one who does. It’s Jayden who says, “Hey, want to go to the dance with me?”

  I hesitate.

  We’re standing at his locker. It’s getting awkward. He says something about you must be glad Sam’s home and I was sort of sorry to have to give Tippy back to her, he’s such a fun dog.

  Say something, I tell myself. Do I want to go to the dance with my best friend? Uh, no, that would be so weird, slow dancing with your best friend. But I can’t say it, at least not like that. I have to kind of fudge it and say something like I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask my mother.

  “Got it,” he says, looking disappointed. “Find out and tell me tomorrow. Or text me later.”

  So that leaves me thinking I could tell him I’m already going with someone else, then just hope Liam hurries up and asks me.

  But he doesn’t.

  I guess I could ask him. But I don’t. What if he says, “No?” That would be so embarrassing.

  A few days later, one of the girls who came to my sleepover texts to say Hey did you see this? Tiff is going steady AND he gave her this cool bracelet and it’s not even her birthday!

  I click the link to Tiffany’s Snapchat and feel sick. It’s got Sending You Sunshine stickies all over it. There she is, with her arms around a boy like she’s an octopus, and you can clearly see the bracelet. It’s one I made. He must have bought it at the Saturday market. Probably when I was taking a break because if I’d sold him something, or even if I just saw him there, I’d remember.

  Over on Tiff’s Insta, it says Goin’ to the V-DAY Dance! There are more pictures of the two of them.

  Her new boyfriend is Liam.

  Yeah, I know people break up all the time. They might not even still be together, by the day of the dance. But still.

  Then it seems that everybody’s talking about who’s going with who and what they’re going to wear (girls) or that it’s just dumb and they’re not even going (some of the boys) or they’re trying to not talk about it at all (me).

  I tell Jayden I’ve decided not to go. He looks hurt but doesn’t say anything. After that, he kind of avoids me. Which I barely notice, because I’ve heard Sam is back at school and I’m always on the look-out to avoid her. We don’t have any classes together, so it turns out not to be that hard, though this one time, I did see her in the hall between classes, coming towards me. I ducked around a corner and down a stairway, along that hall and up another stairway, which was the longest way to get to my next class and I was almost late, but it worked.

  Gus and I put together a poster about the first meeting of the Happy Paws. We do it on my laptop, but we don’t have a printer. He says, “Just send it to Eira. Or Dom. I’m sure they won’t mind running up a few copies for us.”

  I don’t want to ask my aunt for printing. Or anything else. Gus thinks I’m just being stubborn. But then, it turns out I don’t have to ask my aunt, because Gus does have a printer.

  And there’s another surprise. The “ideal location” he mentioned for the first meeting turns out to be our old school, Seabright Elementary.

  “But how could we meet there? Somebody bought it,” I say. “Though who’d want an old school?”

  He’s grinning. “Well, you never know,” he says. “Could be somebody who just LOVES going to school.”

  So clearly, not me. Sam, maybe. School is ridiculously easy for her, another totally annoying thing about her. Or Jayden, who always passes, even though he never studies or does any homework.

  “You know who bought our old school, don’t you?” I can tell he’s just dying to tell me.

  “Well, I’ll give you three guesses.”

  I groan. That sounds like the kind of dumb game you’d play with Daisy.

  “Maybe the town of Seabright bought it, like for offices or something?”

  “Nope.”

  “OK. Then the county. Same reason?”

  “Still nope.”

  “I don’t know. I give up. Who is it?” Not that I care all that much but might as well humour him.

  “Me. I bought it.”

  WHAT? “Why would you do that? I mean, what for?”

  “For homes. There’s more folks who need affordable homes around here than there’s homes for them. Or apartments. I figure the old school is right in town, close to everything. It’s got trees and plenty of parking. It’s a good solid building. Town Council wants more housing, so they’re willing to be reasonable.”

  “You’re turning our school into apartments? Or condos?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “But where will you live?” I knew Gus would be leaving us, when he bought another house with his insurance money from the fire destroying his old house. Maybe if he used all his money for the school, he’d stay with our family? I’d like that.

  “One of the units at Seabright Garden Homes. That’s what I’m calling it.”

  Oh.

  “Anyways, I got the keys to the place today, so I’m celebrating. It’s mine, officially. The school people left some tables and chairs and other stuff behind, even a printer. Have to get Dom to show me how to use it, I guess.”

  “I could show you,” I say. I’d seen my mother using that printer lots of times, back when she was our school’s secretary.

  So that’s what we do. Next day, he puts all the posters up “around town.” This means on the notice boards at the post office, the Independent Grocery Store, the library and at his church.

  It seems just so strange to be back in our old school. It’s cold and kind of dusty, as if nobody’s been there for ages and ages, even though I went there for years, all the way from kindergarten to the end of grade five. That seems so long ago. Now, it feels kind of creepy to be there.

  “I’ll turn up the heat some before the meeting,” Gus says. “I think they left a coffee-maker in the teacher’s lounge. Maybe better if we meet in there, come to think of it.”

  It’s hard to even imagine this place will turn into people’s homes. Gus shows me a diagram of the school and what it looks like, turned into apartments. He shows me where there will be bigger homes, with three bedrooms, or a bit smaller, with two. There will also be a couple of studio apartments, he says. He’s delighted about what a beautiful old school it is. It’s such a shame to leave a place like this standing empty, he says. He talks about how much he’s looking forward to it, as a project. “You can help,” he says. “Your sister too, if she wants to.”

  Somehow, I can’t picture Daisy being much help. I’m also worried about my mother getting enough guests for our bed-and-breakfast, with one less guest when Gus moves out. Before tourist season starts up, about the only guests that come to town are parents of the university students, here for a visit. Or for graduation, in April. And with the Saturday market closed and a lot fewer bakery orders at this time of year, how will we have enough money?

  Gus is still talking about where the shared gardens will be and how it’s only three blocks from the harbour and how much families are going to enjoy living here. I guess he’s right, even though it’s hard to imagine this place being anything but a dusty old school.

  There’s a huge uproar at our new school the next week. The administration – that’s the principal, mostly – has announced that there isn’t going to be a Valentine’s Day Dance this year. Instead, before then, there’s going to be a Father-Daughter Dance.

  By later the same day, some kids are picketing, right on the edge of the school property. One of those kids is Jayden. GENDER BIAS his sign says. Other signs say: UNFAIR! And DON’T TAKE AWAY OUR DANCE! Then everybody is talking about how come only girls and their fathers get to go to the dance?

  Some girls, I think. The ones that have fathers. That leaves me out. Sam, too if her father is still in Asia or somewhere, making a movie.

  The administration caves and makes it a Parent-or-Guardian-and-Student dance and announces that anyone that feels that he, she or they are being excluded for any reason should come to the office to discuss it. As if anyone will do that.

  Jayden says he’s cool with it. His mum is his date, he says. She thinks it’s funny. He says Dom already said he’d take Sam. I guess I better come up with a plan to be doing something really fun, or at least look like I am, on that night so I don’t look like a saddo who isn’t going to the dance.

  Every day, there’s a lunch-time lesson with Mo and I eat my sandwich while I have to learn math. I look after Lily, tell stories to Daisy, help Sylvia with the baking because we’re starting to get more orders, plus there’s homework and all the usual chores to do at home.

  Mo is making the math lessons at least better than Mr. Fafard ever does. Mo is also way more patient about explaining things. They promised they’d try to make it fun and, sometimes it almost is.

  It’s way better on the days Mo comes over to learn drawing. Mom was nice about saying it’s OK.

  Mo says the thing they’d really like to learn how to draw is their motorcycle.

  “You’ve got a motorcycle?” Wow, I think. How cool is that?

  “Yep. My spons…uh, uncle helped me buy this wreck of a bike. It was at the back of some old guy’s shed. All in pieces, mostly in old cardboard boxes. Luc helped me put it back together.”

  Mr. Cadeau did that?

  “So, would you maybe take me for a ride? Some day?”

  Mo grins. “Tell you what. Get a C in math and get your mum’s permission and, sure, we can go for a ride. This summer.”

  Some days my mother gets up, at least for a few hours. A couple of people call about getting me to do portraits of their pets, I guess because they saw the one I did of Jayden’s horse, Spirit, that’s hung up in the waiting room of his mum’s vet clinic.

  I make bracelets, go to school, hang out some with Gus, don’t hang out at all with Jayden or Sam, and do more bracelets because the market is opening again.

  Mo and I, and sometimes Daisy, do drawing together. And eat cookies, while Lily watches from her baby seat. She’s totally fascinated by Mo.

  Aunt Eira comes and goes, but I don’t want to talk to her.

  Gus and I get ready for maybe five or ten people to come to the first meeting of Happy Paws. We’re completely surprised when so many people show up that we don’t have enough chairs for everyone. We explain about the whole idea behind Happy Paws is to get together, make some things to sell to raise money for pet shelters and meet new people. I tell them that I’m going to show them how to make simple bracelets to sell at the market. I say it’s fun and pretty easy. I tell them all the tools and materials will be supplied.

  It doesn’t cost money to join the Happy Paws groups. We pass around a sign-up sheet and talk about ideas of things to make. And tell them what it’s like to sell things at Saturday market, how it’s fun to chat to the people and pretty easy to do.

  At the next meeting, I demonstrate making three types of friendship bracelets. Some people are good at doing bracelets and pick it up right away. Others aren’t as fast at learning how, and a few say it’s too hard, but they’d like to make something else, if that’s OK?

  Of course it is, we tell them.

  Some people talk about other crafts they can do, like crocheting and embroidery and making bird houses. A couple of people want to knit. Someone else does beaded slippers and wants to show how to do them. It seems like they’re having a good time. The only disappointment, for me, is that they’re all grown-ups and mostly old people. None of them are kids.

  With making pet YouTubes, getting tools and supplies for the Happy Paws to make jewellery and figuring out what to show them how to do next, school and Mo and everything else, I don’t give much thought to the dance.

  Then one night, at dinner, it’s just me and Gus. Daisy has already gone to do something or other and Mom didn’t come down. “So, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but…”

  ARRGH. When adults say this, it always means we are going to talk about it.

  I hope it’s not about why I’m pretty much avoiding Jayden and totally avoiding Sam. And Aunt Eira. Even though they keep trying to talk to me.

  “How about we go to the dance, you and me?”

  It’s the last thing I’m expecting. I don’t know what to say.

  “I know I’m not your dad. Not trying to be. Just that, well, I messed up on my Grade 6 dance. That’s some time ago. Thought maybe you, being a good person, might want to give me another chance.”

  OK, I think. Put like that, how can I refuse? I’ll go.

  I need a dress. With mum sick, and Aunt Eira -- well we know about why that won’t work -- and Aunt Sorcha never wears anything except her nurse outfit or jeans, she’s hopeless at dressing up. Who can I ask to help me get the right dress?

  “What do you say, Morley-Mae? Is it Morley-Maybe or Morley-yes?” Gus says and I realize I still haven’t answered him.

  “Sure,” I say. “I mean yes. I’ll go with you. Thank you for asking me.” We already learned in health and relationships class that you thank someone for inviting you to a dance. And you thank them for dancing with you.

  “It’ll be all right, Morley,” Gus says. “Trust me on this.” And, surprisingly enough, he’s right.

  Mostly.

  nine

  I get home from school one day to two surprises.

  Usually, I’m not really a fan of surprises. In my opinion, surprises are usually bad. Especially at my house. I’d rather have some idea of what to expect most of the time. It just makes everything easier.

  SURPRISE ONE: a post card, dropped on the table near the door. I take a minute to look at the picture. It’s a city street with a lot of yellow taxis and a big plume of steam puffing out the top of an orange striped pipe in the sidewalk. On the back, it says “A shopping district street in New York City.”

  The postcard is addressed to me, in black pen. The message is from Sam. Strange to get it now, more than two weeks after she got back to Seabright.

  It doesn’t say much, just thanks again for all the fun we had at Christmas, and I loved being with you and your family.

  I loved our Christmas together too, but now it seems so long ago. Like it happened to some other Morley, with some other Sam at some other Christmas.

  There are voices coming from the kitchen. One is familiar. It’s Sheila. The other voice, a woman’s, has an accent. Spanish, I think. This woman sounds a lot like Margaret, who used to be the housekeeper at Sam’s house. But it can’t be Margaret, because I heard she went to work for another family.

  SURPRIZE TWO: It IS Margaret. She’s baking cookies with Sheila. Gus is sitting at the table, joking about his job as a cookie tester and how hard he has to work.

  Margaret? Here? Then I kind of remember someone saying Margaret would be coming to stay and help us, whatever that means. Looks like she’s helping with the cookie orders right now.

  “Ah, Morley, it’s good to see you,” Margaret says. “Your sister is in bedroom, playing, your mother and baby are fine, upstairs, lie down. Nothing to worry about. Why don’t you sit down? Have snack? Tell me, how is your day?”

  Uh…right. All I want to do is grab something to eat and escape to my room. Good to know everyone is OK and I don’t have to rush upstairs and see if Lily needs something. Or Mom does. Or worry about Daisy.

  “Margaret…uh…hi,” I say. Margaret is a good person. She’s always been kind to me like she is to all Sam’s friends. “Did you, uh, did you find…”

  “My room? Yes. Gus show me.” I hope he didn’t give her MY room. He looks at me and winks. I try to smile, even though I’m not happy about Margaret being here. Even if she does make us dinner and do laundry and all those other jobs at home, she’s Sam’s Margaret. More like Sam’s mother than her real mother ever was, at least whenever I was around.

  She’s in the Sam camp, not in the Morley plus Daisy plus Lily plus their mother camp.

  I remind myself that Margaret is just here because she needs a place to stay.

  That she’ll only be here til Aunt Eira and the future Uncle Dom buy a big house where they all can live. Including Sam. And Tippy. That’s Sam’s dog. Not someplace I ever intend to visit.

  “Well, you think about,” Margaret says now, wiping a hand across her forehead and pushing black hair out of her eyes. The kitchen is hot and she’s a rather wide woman who’s only a little taller than me.

  Later, I come back down to see about something for dinner. Sylvia has gone home. Gus has also gone off, probably to his workshop. Or maybe to his new-old school project.

  Instead of an empty kitchen and having to look in the fridge to see what I can make for us, Margaret is there. And so are the wonderful smells of something cooking for dinner.

  “Morley, hamburgers and chips for dinner in ten minutes,” Margaret says. “Maybe you call Daisy? And also see if Señora your mother is hungry? Then, after we eat, we bring Lily down for a while?”

  It’s later, after dinner, after we clean up the kitchen, when I’m giving Lily a bottle, that I ask Margaret why she’s here.

  “To help Star family,” she says simply.

  “I mean, I thought you left looking after Sam because you got this other job?”

  She looks surprised. “Señora Park ask me to leave. Say she moving, to Hawaii. Sam also. Job is no more. Say she hear Señora Bailey-Smythe needs housekeeper.

  “Then Señora Bailey-Smythe, she wants me to come back from Mexico fast. Ahora! Right now. I don’t want to do this, but I do. I work for her, but things not so good there. Then your Aunt Eira, she ask me to come here, help your mother. Help you. Do that and stay here. Also, in afternoons, get Sam from school. Help them. But sleep here. Soon, they move out of little condo and get new house. Big house. Then I live there.”

  I think about this. It’s true, we need the help. Margaret needs a place to live and a job. “Is this what you want, too?”

 

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