Knockout Girl Page 3

  “What?” I say begrudgingly as soon as I step into the living room where they’re waiting for me.

  “We have some news,” Mom says, clearly taking charge over Dad. “Big news.”

  I put on a fake smile and practically shout, “We’re moving back?!”

  Dad shakes his head while Mom rolls her eyes. Dad says, “No, Elli. We’re not. Sorry , kiddo.”

  Kiddo. I snort. “Then there’s nothing more I really need to hear,” I say, boldly defying my parents.

  And with that, I leave the room and bound up the stairs. In reality, I do want to hear what my parents have to tell me, considering last time they used that tone of voice they dropped a bomb. But at the same time, I want them to suffer for the way they’re making me suffer.

  ***

  The next morning, I head downstairs for my customary bowl of cereal. I normally do this before I shower, so of course my hair is completely mussed up and I’m in my “comfy” pyjamas. When I reach the kitchen and see a man in his late twenties sitting at the table and reading a newspaper, I can’t help but scream at the top of my lungs.

  He looks up startled, like I’m the one intruding, and I panic. I’m freaking out and I don’t know what to do. So I grab the closest thing to me—the frying pan that he must have used to make the eggs he’s eating.

  Ugh, who breaks into a house at 7:30 in the morning to eat someone else’s eggs?

  I hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and I hope to God it’s my dad. I’m still holding the frying pan like Rapunzel, aiming it toward the stranger without getting too close.

  “Elli,” Dad says with a relieved sigh when he finally reaches the kitchen.

  “Call 9-1-1,” I say frantically, not taking my eyes off of the strange man.

  Then my dad does something completely unexpected and perplexing. He starts to laugh like I haven’t heard him laugh in years. And not only that, but the man at the table also laughs.

  “Dad!” I exclaim, whirling around to face him.

  Dad wipes the laughter from his face as he gently takes the frying pan out of my iron grip. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and turns me back around to face the stranger.

  “Elli, meet your Uncle Daniel,” Dad says with some mirth left in his voice. “He’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

  I sigh in relief and all the tension leaves my body. It occurs to me then that this must have been what they were fighting about last night. And then Dad’s words sink in and I realize I have to share my house with an uncle I’ve never met before.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I say rudely.

  Uncle Daniel lifts an eyebrow—he looks just like my Dad, how did I miss that?—and says, “Nice to meet you too, Elli.”

  CHAPTER four

  “Actually,” Uncle Daniel continues, “we’ve met before. But you were like two years old. And I was mostly drunk.”

  I flounder around for useless words as Dad grabs a bowl and starts mixing himself some cold cereal. Finally, I say, “I’m sorry I screamed at you.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” Uncle Daniel says kindly, and I think I might even want to like him at that moment. Then he frowns. “But didn’t you know I would be here?”

  “She seems to have missed that information somehow,” Dad says oh-so-helpfully.

  I roll my eyes at him and look back at my unfamiliar uncle. When I first saw him he seemed like a regular guy, albeit a break-and-enter kind. But now I’m seeing some similarities to my dad. He’s got the same sandy brown hair, the same hazel-green eyes, and the same chin. But the sassy little smirk he’s giving me isn’t shared with Dad.

  He’s got laugh lines that crinkle the corners of his eyes and a five o’clock shadow that makes me think that maybe he’s a little older than my earlier assessment. In truth, I don’t know that much about my father’s only brother, but I’m under the impression that there’s a very good reason for that.

  And that reason is striding into the kitchen, already dressed in a classy business suit, with her hair perfectly coiffed. Ugh, she even has heels on. Isn’t it too early for heels?

  “Morning, Elli,” she says to me.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say. I’m still trying to calm my heart from the near heart attack I just suffered and I’m hoping she’ll make me some breakfast.

  No dice. She turns a fake smile to my uncle, but I know what that look really means. “Daniel…nice to see you again. You must have gotten in quite late last night.”

  “Shauna,” Uncle Daniel says as he rises.

  He goes over to her and makes the mistake of trying to give her a hug. I honestly don’t think my mom will accept a hug from anyone anymore. Except me, of course. She raises an eyebrow and narrowly escapes his awkward attempt at estranged affection. He handles it well though and sits back down with another smirkish smile. I’m almost impressed that he can shake her attitude off so easily.

  “So, um,” I start to say, but Mom cuts me off before I can get any further.

  “Well, Elli,” she says, starting to answer the question I didn’t ask, “if you would just listen to us once in a while you’d know exactly what your—” she spits out the next word, “—uncle is doing here.”

  “Dad already told me,” I say, trying not to sound like a defiant brat. It’s hard to be taken seriously with a certain tone of voice. “And I was going to say…” think of something else, anything to break this tension, “does anyone want to take me to the mall after school?”

  It’s not what I meant to say, but I figure no one will volun—

  “I will,” Uncle Daniel says suddenly.

  My dad frowns in a pensive way and my mom huffs like she can’t believe he would offer such a thing. But since neither of my parents is saying anything and since I was dumb enough to ask in the first place, I can’t exactly refuse.

  “O-okay,” I manage to say.

  “Cool,” he says. “Pick you up after school.”

  “Do you even own a vehicle?” Mom asks rudely. Now I know where I get it from.

  “How do you think I got here?” my uncle says boldly. “I mean, this house isn’t exactly on a bus route, and I don’t feel like shelling out taxi money, soo…”

  He leaves his sentence hanging as Mom rushes to the front room to look out the window. I can hear her exaggerated gasp from two rooms away. “Daniel!” she cries, clicking her way back to the kitchen. “You are not taking my daughter anywhere in that rusty old bucket of bolts.”

  “Shauna,” Dad groans. “Would you relax? She’s my daughter, too, and it’s my brother taking her.”

  “You can’t possibly be serious,” Mom says to him. “You want to let Elli ride around with your brother in—in that?”

  “It’s not like he’s reckless,” Dad says. “They’ll be fine.”

  “I’m right here,” I say, exasperated. I’m surprised to find the exact same words being said an octave lower at the same time. Uncle Daniel is clearly as irritated with them as I am.

  I don’t know the guy, but I already feel bad for him. I say, “I have to go get ready for school. But I’ll see you later?”

  “Sure, Elli,” he says, almost sighing.

  ***

  I didn’t really expect my uncle to take me to the mall, especially since I never even told him what school I go to. But to my surprise, as soon as I step out of the front doors, there he is. The car is unmistakable—what my mother called a “bucket of bolts” I would call “slightly rusted,” but I guess that’s a matter of opinion. I gape at the car for all of five seconds before Uncle Daniel honks at me.

  Something in me snaps and I laugh because the horn sounds like a toy car instead of a real car. I go over and hesitate before getting in, but then the cold gets too much for me.

  “You look surprised to see me,” Uncle Daniel says as he starts driving—at a reasonable pace, I might add.

  I decide to be honest with him. “I didn’t actually think you would want to go to the mall with me.”

 
“I didn’t think you’d want to go with your parents,” he says. With another one of his classic smirks, he adds, “I mean, I know I’m old, but they’re…really old.”

  I laugh, mostly for his sake. “Well, I only said I wanted to go to the mall to have something to say. That whole scene at breakfast…”

  “Yeah.” He nods and he even looks a little sad. “How long have they been like that?”

  I pause before answering quietly, “A long time. I think they fell out of love when I started growing up.”

  I didn’t really mean to say it, but it’s too late to take it back. I know Uncle Daniel heard me because he gives me this look, brief enough to concentrate on his driving but long enough for me to know what he means by it. Pity, is what he’s trying to communicate. Well, I don’t want any of that.

  “Look, it’s really okay,” I tell him. “When they’re focused on each other, they leave me alone.” This time, he shoots me a worried look. “No, no it’s great! Trust me.”

  “It’s not that…” he says, letting his sentence trail off. Then he shrugs. “Well, not completely.”

  “Then what?” I ask.

  I watch as Uncle Daniel hesitates, clearly trying not to show how hard he’s thinking about my question. He finds a good excuse for not answering as he parks the car in a cramped space of the overcrowded parking lot. When he very meticulously starts rearranging things on his person before actually turning the car off, that’s when I get impatient.

  “What?” I persist, sounding whinier than I mean to sound. He still doesn’t answer. “Uncle Daniel, what are you trying so hard not to tell me?”

  He shrugs again in a careless way that actually makes me want to shake him. “It’s just…” he turns to me. “They used to be so in love. Like, sickeningly in love. You know, the way that makes everyone else feel uncomfortable because it’s so…sweet?”

  My eyes must look like two big, blue saucers to him. I know what he’s talking about but my parents haven’t been like that in a long time.

  “Anyway, it’s none of my business,” he states as he reaches for the handle.

  Taking his cue, I also get out of the car. He starts to walk ahead of me and I follow him, assuming that he’s leading me somewhere.

  Then he says over his shoulder, “Meet back at the car in like, an hour? Is that long enough for you?”

  I stop in my tracks, but he doesn’t notice because he’s hurrying toward the door. So, he doesn’t actually want to hang out with me. I know I should have seen that coming, and to be honest we don’t even know each other, so it really shouldn’t quite hurt like it does. I swallow down his seemingly careless rejection and also hurry into the super-heated mall. I just hope that I’ll be able to find my way out to the car in an hour.

  Not quite knowing what to do with myself—because I didn’t really need to come to the mall in the first place—I wander aimlessly. I recognize a bunch of the stores from having come here a couple of times with Mom, but other than that I feel completely out of place. Although, these days, out of place is starting to feel normal.

  I have this paranoid feeling of being watched by everyone I pass by. I wonder if maybe they can tell I’m foreign somehow, like my skin tone gives me away. But I see their faces, and I know their fake tans look as good as my real one. So what is it that gives me away? Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m giving off some sort of hormonal scent that sets me apart.

  Maybe I’m just crazy and no one is really taking any special notice of me. I look to my left where a giggling group of girls is making their way into one of those glitzy but cheap jewellery stores and am assaulted by the completely opposite feeling of being completely ignored. This, of course, proves to be my downfall, as I walk straight into the broad chest of a boy I vaguely recognize as being in my chemistry class.

  “Oof,” he mutters as he draws back a bit.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say quickly, trying to conceal my gasp of delighted surprise when I see how much more handsome he is when I’m not running into him. He has dark, curly hair and warm, chocolate brown eyes that are searching my face. If Kai, with his sun-streaked blond hair and ice blue eyes, is day, then this guy is night. Not that there’s anything particularly wrong with that.

  “Sorry,” he drawls very slowly, an expression on his face that verges on amusement. With a twitch of his lips, he repeats the word “sorry,” but it sounds more like he’s saying “sore-y.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but out comes his voice saying, “Aren’t you that girl from, umm…Alaska, or something?”

  I start and choke out, “Hawaii.”

  “I was so close,” he deadpans, and he’s so good at it that I can’t even tell if he’s joking or not. Then his face cracks into the dimpliest grin I’ve ever seen.

  He turns his head slightly and I see that there’s actually a group of boys that he’s hanging out with and now they’re calling his name. It’s Adrian.

  “See you later, Hawaii,” Adrian says just before he swings back around and walks away from me with his friends.

  I go back to my wandering around, only now I’m also trying to get Adrian’s face—and his gorgeous name—out of my head. When the time comes for me to meet Uncle Daniel back at the car, I realize that I actually haven’t done anything productive or remotely useful here. Figuring that my uncle probably won’t like the idea of his coming out here in vain, I pop into a clothing store on my way toward the exit and buy the first shirt I see that’s on sale. It’s not much, but it’ll do.

  I head out to the still-crowded parking lot and for the life of me, I cannot remember what Uncle Daniel’s bucket of bolts looks like. My saving grace is that Uncle Daniel himself is standing outside his car, leaning against it actually, and sipping some hot liquid through a Tim Horton’s travel cup. I shiver inside my heavy coat just thinking about how long he could have possibly been waiting outside like that for me. His coat isn’t even done up, but at least he has a grey scarf, albeit a ratty one, wrapped around his neck.

  “Have you been waiting long?” I ask him. Up close, I see that the reason his coat isn’t done up is because all but one of the buttons are missing.

  He turns to me with a smile and shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “Why didn’t you wait inside? You could have turned the car on,” I say.

  He unlocks my door for me and then holds it open. “I don’t like to idle,” he says simply. “Plus it’s nice out.”

  I shiver. “I didn’t really have you down for the environmental type,” I joke as I slip inside the car.

  “I’m not,” he says as he gets in on his side. “I’m just cheap.”

  He smirks at me and I laugh. I think I’m going to like having my uncle around.

  CHAPTER Five

  Julian’s giving me a geography lesson. I mean, not just general geography, like where the US is situated in relation to Canada. No, he’s giving me the geography of this little tiny town. When it became evident that I had very little knowledge of any of the landmarks in town, he actually took out graph paper and started to draw me a map.

  “See?” he says, pointing down at his very meticulous drawing. “The mall’s not that far from the school. So you could walk there, rather than have your weird uncle take you there.”

  Yeah, I told him the whole thing about my uncle and my parents arguing over it. I hadn’t really meant to, but it sort of popped up. And let’s face it—the only other people I know here are my parents, and I can’t really talk to them about, well, them. So I told Julian. He was very sympathetic, even mentioning something about having a strange family, too. For the record, though, he was the one that attributed the adjective “weird” to my uncle.

  I shiver, even though it’s quite warm inside the school. “Walk to the mall in this weather? No, thanks.”

  Julian wrinkles his nose, which actually makes his face look kinda cute. If you’re into the geeky type. Which I’m not.

  “Oh boy,” he says with laughter in his voice. “You’re not g
oing to survive the rest of the winter are you?”

  I open my mouth to defend myself, which I realize is useless, but instead he keeps going.

  “I can see it now.” He waves his hand in front of himself like he’s imagining some scene playing before him. “The school paper with a gorgeous picture of you on the front page; a headline that reads, ‘Ella, who died because she couldn’t survive five minutes in the cold.’ We’ll all show up for the memorial, even though most of the students here don’t know you, and we’ll light a fire to symbolize the passing of our very own Hawaiian princess. Of course, I’ll be the only one who mourns you, because you’re the only person with a tan in the wintertime who would even consider hanging out with me.”

  He chuckles and I can’t help myself, even though I don’t know why he’s still calling me Ella. While I’m flattered by the words ‘gorgeous’ and ‘princess,’ I find myself actually laughing at Julian’s description. I had no idea he would have that kind of imagination. Then again, I really don’t know him that well.

  “Or…” he looks under the table for a brief moment and then back at me. “You can buy a more sensible pair of boots, a thick scarf, and a decent pair of gloves.”

  I snort at the mental image of me, bundled up in all kinds of heavy fabrics, knit things, and ugly boots that go up to my knees. “I’d rather look good than be ridiculously over-dressed.”

  Julian stares at me for a moment and then says, “Okay the new headline for your obituary now reads: ‘Ella, who died in vanity.’”

  I’m laughing again, harder this time. While my inevitable death doesn’t particularly thrill me, I find Julian’s sarcasm hilarious. Who knew a nerdy guy could be so funny?

  “No, seriously,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

  “I am being serious,” he says, though there’s a smile behind those words. “Okay, look. Even I know I’m the last person to be giving fashion advice, but just take a look around. There’s not a single girl in this cafeteria whose boots aren’t stylish and functional. Well, except maybe…” He glances across the room and then quickly looks down at the table. “Cherry’s. Everyone knows rubber boots are worn in the springtime. And yet, she always wears hers.”