Read Online The Gallery of Lost Species by Nina Berkhout - Free Book Online Page B

1918. Even the boys cowered from the space.
    Viv lay unscathed on a blanket near the entrance duct, eating Twinkies, reading Rolling Stone magazine with a flashlight. The only thing Con said after she set eyes on my sister and before she turned and walked off was, “Cette fille sera ma mort. ” She was already looking away from Viv and the rest of us, speaking to no one in particular, to the dark air and the tomb-like walls.
    *   *   *
    T HE G RAND S UPREME Prize for the Island of Dreams pageant was a trip for the winner and her family to Hawaii. Constance wanted it badly.
    She took my sister to a coach who taught her a dance where her body drifted around while her head stood still. She spray-tanned Viv penny brown and ordered her a custom-designed grass skirt. She had a lei made fresh by the florist, and an anklet and crown of hard, pointed leaves, which she kept in a cooler for the drive to Peterborough. She bought face glitter and a special iron to make Viv’s hair wavy. This was to be her big comeback.
    Henry was working that weekend, so Con had to bring me along. She summoned and bossed me around like a personal assistant and I begrudgingly fulfilled each task relating to my sister’s imminent triumph.
    Minutes to showtime, when the contestants were lining up backstage, Viv accepted a hug from us before we went to sit in the audience.
    â€œThis is it, my darling,” Con said, her wild eyes glued to the stage.
    â€œNumber three, Vivienne!” the former beauty queen emcee announced. And again, “Number three, Vivienne! ”
    The audience craned their necks to catch a glimpse of my sister, infamous for her roller-coaster pageant career.
    The emcee moped. “Number threeee! Vivieeeeennnnnee!”
    My mother’s features began contorting. Her grip tightened on my hand before she released it and marched backstage in her thigh-high vinyl boots.
    The emcee flipped her curls behind her shoulders. “We’ll give Miss Vivienne a few secs, ladies and gents.”
    Mothers whispered conspiratorially to one another, anxious for their daughters to gain marks on Viv for tardiness. The judge tapped the bell on the judging table.
    The emcee straightened up and stuck her chest out from beneath her sweater set. “Presenting … Vivienne!”
    A ukulele and Hawaiian man’s voice singing in a Polynesian dialect came on. But again my sister did not appear. The judge nodded at the emcee again. The music stopped.
    â€œNumber four, Sublime! Presenting Sublime!” A Shania Twain song bellowed through the loudspeakers. Sublime entered stage right, traipsing around in her Daisy Dukes and slinging a back handspring every so often. From the audience her mother yelled encouragement and instructed dance moves.
    I went backstage. I checked the washrooms, the stairwell, and the football field. As I neared the parking lot, I heard my mother’s voice. “That’s it! It’s over. You’re officially a loser. Just what you wanted, p’tite idiote. ”
    Viv leaned against the hood in her hula skirt and bikini top, her head bent low.
    â€œI hope you’re happy,” Constance said. Then she lit a cigarette, shot into her seat, and started the engine. She would have driven away without me. The car was already in motion when I ran to it, my sister pushing the door open so I could jump in.

THIRTEEN
    A FEW MONTHS LATER , Viv had a new friend. His dad was in the military, so he moved around a lot. His name was Nick Angel.
    An aboveground tunnel connected their high school to my middle school. After class, I’d see Viv making out with him in the parking lot. She didn’t walk home with me anymore. I’d pass by them and Nick would be looping her long, honey hair around his finger, pressing her up against the brick wall like in a music video.
    Nick Angel was hot in a mean sort of way. He had seductive wolf eyes and a crewcut. He wore steel-toed