Read Online The Daring Game by Kit Pearson - Free Book Online Page A

the front door, holding their coats, at ten forty-five on Saturday morning.
    â€œDon’t you all look nice!” said Miss Tavistock, coming out of her study. “Many happy returns of the day, Elizabeth.” She threaded her way through the rest of the crowd of boarders waiting to be picked up.
    Carrie giggled. “What does that mean? You guys use such funny expressions.” Carrie often pointed out what she considered to be Canadian oddities: French on the cereal boxes; singing “The Queen” at Friday afternoon assemblies; celebrating Thanksgiving in October; and saying “grade seven” instead of “seventh grade” and “dressing-gown” instead of “bathrobe.” Sometimes Carrie’s comments were irritating; it was as if she were laughing at Canada.
    This morning, however, nothing could bother Eliza. It was her birthday. Before breakfast she had opened a parcel from her parents—two new books, a blue turtle-neck sweater and a fountain pen, something she’d wanted for a long time. Best of all, her birthday card contained a plane ticket to Toronto in December. Her mother had also sent a cake, which Eliza now balanced carefully in its box.
    She felt older, but not too old. Twelve was the best age, she decided—still a whole year away from the terrors of thirteen, but more powerful than eleven.
    They were all wearing one another’s clothes. Eliza had Carrie’s blue corduroy jumper on over her new sweater. It was too short, so she wore red tights with it. Eliza’s kilt drooped on Carrie, but Carrie liked kilts and didn’t have one of her own. Pam, who coveted Carrie’s American clothes, had borrowed one of her flowery print blouses to match her own skirt. Jean’s skinny figure was engulfed in Pam’s fuzzy orange sweater-dress. Even Helen, who didn’t care about clothes, had begged a baggy sweater from Eliza because she had nothing clean of her own to wear.
    Eliza had lent it to her reluctantly. If she had to live all year with Helen, however, she couldn’t ignore her completely. Instead she was carefully cool, and numbed herself to Helen’s forceful presence. It was a rest to be so neutral.
    Aunt Susan arrived with her baby and drove them downtown. They had a large, satisfying lunch at the Bon Ton. Carrie held the colicky baby on her knee all through the meal and bounced away her whimpers. Helen devoured three chocolate éclairs. Then Aunt Susan dropped them off at a movie, with careful instructions on how to get to her house on the bus.
    There was time after the film to explore Granville Street. Eliza’s aunt had never let her and Carrie come downtown alone before, and it made them feel important to be part of the bustling Saturday crowd.
    Each of them chose a different store to go into. They looked at budgies (Jean), shoes (Pam), Chinese imports (Eliza), records (Carrie) and chocolates (Helen). In the last place the other four pooled their pocket money and bought Eliza peanut clusters for her birthday.
    â€œIt’s great not to have a matron breathing down your neck,” said Helen to Eliza as they waited for the bus. Eliza wondered again why she was being so agreeable. In spite of her resolution to remain unaffected, Helen’s comment made her feel sorry for the other girl, being confined inside the school walls week after week. Almost all the boarders visited with friends or relatives on Saturdays, but Helen seemed to have nobody to sign her out.
    The bus wheezed over the Granville Bridge and continued along Fourth Avenue. Eliza watched attentively for their stop. “It’s so nice out,” she said when they got off at Blenheim Street. “Do you want to see our secret beach? We don’t have to be back at Aunt Susan’s until five.”
    She had discovered the beach the first day she’d been in Vancouver, and since then she had shared it with Carrie every week. It wasn’t really