Read Online This River Awakens by Steven Erikson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Erikson
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‘Hi.’
Jennifer ordered the three milkshakes and paid. She and her two friends then followed Dave back to a table where a half-dozen boys and girls sat. Spaces were made for them, Dave sitting on one side of Jennifer, Barb on the other, with Sandy opposite.
Dave nudged Jennifer. ‘Guess what?’
‘What?’
He ducked his head again. ‘We got some hash. We’re going over to Mark’s place. His old man’s not home.’ Dave took out his cigarettes. ‘We’ll have to keep all the windows open,’ he said.
‘Mark’s old man is a cop,’ Jennifer explained to Sandy and Barb.
‘He’d bust us all if he ever got the chance,’ Dave said.
Jennifer leaned back in the crook of Dave’s arm. Whenever Dave laughed she joined in, though she wasn’t really listening to him. A girl sitting at the far end of the table drew her attention. She was pretty, and seemed to have snared the attention of Jim and Mike – two boys who, like Dave, were in Grade Nine. A nudge from Barb brought Jennifer’s attention back to her end of the table.
A boy had turned to Sandy. ‘Hi,’ he said after a moment. ‘I’m Mark.’
Sandy looked down at the table and smiled. ‘Hi.’
‘You from Middlecross, too?’
She nodded.
‘Going with anybody?’
Barb giggled and Sandy shot her a glare before glancing up at Mark. ‘Not really,’ she said.
Barb sneered. ‘She’s hot for a farmboy,’ she said, shakily lighting her cigarette. ‘Big and dumb.’
‘Roland’s not dumb,’ Sandy snapped.
‘His name’s Roland?’ Mark asked. ‘Roland?’ He rocked back and laughed loudly.
‘That name sounds familiar,’ a new voice cut in.
Mark said, ‘This is Debbie Brand. A transfer.’
Something cold clenched Jennifer’s stomach as she slowly looked over at the girl at the far end of the table. Their eyes met, and the girl smiled, then winked. Jennifer swung a glare on Sandy. ‘Roland’s got hairless balls and a limp prick,’ Jennifer said, smiling coldly as the colour left Sandy’s face.
Debbie said, ‘Poor kid.’
Their eyes met again, and again Jennifer looked away first. Around her the conversation stumbled off in a new direction, but it had become faint and distant as a storm thundered through Jennifer’s thoughts. The bitch, she knows! Fuck! A year’s difference in age meant everything. Being in the seventh grade was a whole lifetime away from being in Grade Six. If Mark and Dave find out … fuck it!
The new girl knew the truth, only she wasn’t telling. Why? Why not carve us up right now and get it done with? What the hell did that wink mean, anyway? Jennifer scowled. We got to talk, Debbie Brand. You and me. I got to know what kind of game you’re playing. Once she knew that – Jennifer smiled to herself. I don’t lose games. Ever.
CHAPTER THREE
I
It was Sunday, the day we declared war on the rats in the house. We began by rolling up the carpet in the living room. I helped Father carry it out to the service pick-up truck he had driven in from the gas station. While he took the carpet to the garage – where he’d clean it with a high-pressure water hose and heavy-duty soap – I was to place the traps and poison.
‘Figure you can match wits with rats?’ Father asked.
I grinned up at him. ‘Nobody better than me.’
He drove away, and I turned to face the house. Twenty traps to lay out; the poison would go into the crawlspace under the basement stairs, and into the attic. The traps, baited with Cheddar cheese, would go everywhere else.
Mother kept the twins in the kitchen, her two helpers in some baking venture. Debbie was visiting friends in the city. The rest of the house was mine.
The basement seemed the obvious place to start. As I descended the stairs, I listened for sounds from below. But there was nothing. I came to the bottom of the steps and paused, looking around.
A thousand places for rats to hide. Behind the washer, the dryer, the water heater, the furnace, all of our cardboard boxes
Jennifer ordered the three milkshakes and paid. She and her two friends then followed Dave back to a table where a half-dozen boys and girls sat. Spaces were made for them, Dave sitting on one side of Jennifer, Barb on the other, with Sandy opposite.
Dave nudged Jennifer. ‘Guess what?’
‘What?’
He ducked his head again. ‘We got some hash. We’re going over to Mark’s place. His old man’s not home.’ Dave took out his cigarettes. ‘We’ll have to keep all the windows open,’ he said.
‘Mark’s old man is a cop,’ Jennifer explained to Sandy and Barb.
‘He’d bust us all if he ever got the chance,’ Dave said.
Jennifer leaned back in the crook of Dave’s arm. Whenever Dave laughed she joined in, though she wasn’t really listening to him. A girl sitting at the far end of the table drew her attention. She was pretty, and seemed to have snared the attention of Jim and Mike – two boys who, like Dave, were in Grade Nine. A nudge from Barb brought Jennifer’s attention back to her end of the table.
A boy had turned to Sandy. ‘Hi,’ he said after a moment. ‘I’m Mark.’
Sandy looked down at the table and smiled. ‘Hi.’
‘You from Middlecross, too?’
She nodded.
‘Going with anybody?’
Barb giggled and Sandy shot her a glare before glancing up at Mark. ‘Not really,’ she said.
Barb sneered. ‘She’s hot for a farmboy,’ she said, shakily lighting her cigarette. ‘Big and dumb.’
‘Roland’s not dumb,’ Sandy snapped.
‘His name’s Roland?’ Mark asked. ‘Roland?’ He rocked back and laughed loudly.
‘That name sounds familiar,’ a new voice cut in.
Mark said, ‘This is Debbie Brand. A transfer.’
Something cold clenched Jennifer’s stomach as she slowly looked over at the girl at the far end of the table. Their eyes met, and the girl smiled, then winked. Jennifer swung a glare on Sandy. ‘Roland’s got hairless balls and a limp prick,’ Jennifer said, smiling coldly as the colour left Sandy’s face.
Debbie said, ‘Poor kid.’
Their eyes met again, and again Jennifer looked away first. Around her the conversation stumbled off in a new direction, but it had become faint and distant as a storm thundered through Jennifer’s thoughts. The bitch, she knows! Fuck! A year’s difference in age meant everything. Being in the seventh grade was a whole lifetime away from being in Grade Six. If Mark and Dave find out … fuck it!
The new girl knew the truth, only she wasn’t telling. Why? Why not carve us up right now and get it done with? What the hell did that wink mean, anyway? Jennifer scowled. We got to talk, Debbie Brand. You and me. I got to know what kind of game you’re playing. Once she knew that – Jennifer smiled to herself. I don’t lose games. Ever.
CHAPTER THREE
I
It was Sunday, the day we declared war on the rats in the house. We began by rolling up the carpet in the living room. I helped Father carry it out to the service pick-up truck he had driven in from the gas station. While he took the carpet to the garage – where he’d clean it with a high-pressure water hose and heavy-duty soap – I was to place the traps and poison.
‘Figure you can match wits with rats?’ Father asked.
I grinned up at him. ‘Nobody better than me.’
He drove away, and I turned to face the house. Twenty traps to lay out; the poison would go into the crawlspace under the basement stairs, and into the attic. The traps, baited with Cheddar cheese, would go everywhere else.
Mother kept the twins in the kitchen, her two helpers in some baking venture. Debbie was visiting friends in the city. The rest of the house was mine.
The basement seemed the obvious place to start. As I descended the stairs, I listened for sounds from below. But there was nothing. I came to the bottom of the steps and paused, looking around.
A thousand places for rats to hide. Behind the washer, the dryer, the water heater, the furnace, all of our cardboard boxes
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