an excerpt from
Kaitlyn Wolfe:
Crown Attorney
by Jacqui Morrison
Copyright © 2014 by Jacqui Morrison and published here with her permission
Chapter One
Susan Waberay spied the bedroom entrance, then, in a conspiring tone, asked Kaitlyn Wolfe, “Can you sneak out of the house Saturday night?”
After a two-week hiatus, the two teenage girlfriends had re-connected, and that afternoon on a dreary Wednesday, Kaitlyn’s friend had come over for a joint homework session.
Having never felt the urge to sneak around her mother, Kaitlyn was utterly puzzled. “Sneak out? What the devil for?”
Susan leaned toward her, mischief written plain on her face. “Brad Collins, the captain of the football team, is having a party at his parents’ house,” she breathed and declared, “…and we’re going.”
“Why don’t I just ask?”
Rolling her eyes, the teen’s universal expression of ‘duuh?’ Susan explained with strained patience, “Brad’s parents will be away for the weekend.There will be no one to chaperone the party. Knowing your mom, she’d call Mrs. Collins. And that will screw it up for all of us.”
“I could tell her I’m going to a movie with you and then sleeping over at your place.” But Kaitlyn was uncomfortable; the lie was eating up at her insides already.
A victory smile spread on her friend’s face. “That’ll work! She’ll never check with Ida and Ida won’t care if we come back late.”
Having never heard anyone her age call a parent anything but mom or dad, Kaitlyn felt Susan was being disrespectful. “Why do you call your mom Ida?”
“If she was a real mom, she’d handle her problems instead of making me cover up for her. If she can’t respect herself, then why should I respect her?”
“You have a point,” Kaitlyn said with reluctance while shaking her head sadly. “Margaret is a great mom.” Uttering her mother’s name for the first time felt so grown up.
* * * *
Saturday quickly rolled in, and carrying a change of clothing in a duffel bag, Kaitlyn arrived at Susan’s house. They both rushed to her friend’s bedroom, and changed.
Sue ditched her jeans to slip on a form-fitting, mid-thigh length skirt with a tight shirt that accentuated her burgeoning figure.
“You look hot, Sue!”
Her friend grinned broadly at the compliment then grimaced, sighing aloud at the sight of her overalls. “You don’t. Wait there.” Sue went rooting in her closet. She pulled out another of her skirts and chucked it at her. “You will too with this.”
Kaitlyn pulled on the offered skirt and her tight T-shirt. She caught her reflection in Susan’s mirror. She’d never dared to wear a mini-skirt before.
My tanned legs look really long. Mom would kill me if she saw how skimpily I’m dressed. But for this time, one time….
Even with prodding, Kaitlyn refused to smear on make-up while Susan’s chocolate brown eyes shimmered with aqua eyeshadow and her lips glistened the color of a red fire engine.
Both heard the honking of a truck.
“That would be our ride, my cousin Vern,” Susan said, reaching for her purse.
They slipped outside and into the front seat of the truck. As if to impress them, Vern peeled off from the rocky driveway. Once he had merged unto a two-way lane, he cleared his throat and spoke in his new, deep man’s voice, “Don’t forget for a moment that some of these guys are pigs who only want to get into your pants. I’ll watch out for you, but don’t go into any of the bedrooms for any reason, you hear? If you like a guy, give him your phone number and meet up with him another time. Under no circumstances do I want either of you making out with any of the football players.”
Susan whipped around to Vern. “How pompous can you get? Under no circumstances…. “She gave him a shove. With a tone that mimicked his previous authority, she reminded him, “You’re my cousin, not my mother. I can handle things myself.”
Vern took the shove with good humour but sobered. “Oh, yeah. And another thing, don’t leave a drink unattended. Have you heard of acid?”
Kaitlyn’s stomach went into a knot. Had she made a foolish decision in agreeing to put herself at risk? “Oh, my God, are you serious? Could they … burn our tongues!”
Vern spared her a quick glance. “Kaitlyn, for such a smart girl, you’re really a goof. Acid is a street name for L.S.D. The drug makes you hallucinate. If it is slipped into your drink, you would totally lose your inhibitions. Only God knows what you’d do then.”
Kaitlyn relaxed and the drive continued in agreeable silence until Vern turned the vehicle onto a side road. “One girl from River Deer Territory took some LSD, then she made it with three guys.” He shrugged, laughing a little. “She was kind of a skank to begin with. Now she’s fifteen, knocked up, and labeled a slut on her reserve.”
“Enough, Vern,” Susan warned, adding, “That’s so gross!”
Vern pulled into an empty spot near the party house, turned the ignition off, and turned to both girls. “Not only gross, but she pretty well wrecked her life.” Avoiding Susan’s friendly slap, Vern went on. “Just dance, have fun, and I’ll watch your back. Don’t do anything with any guys, or you’ll get a reputation just like that girl.” He gave them a curt nod, and as if it were agreed upon, he opened the driver side door and slipped out.
Susan scooted over to Vern’s recently vacated seat and reached out a hand. “We hear you, brother protector! Now help me out.” Vern assisted Susan out of the truck and gave her a big, wet raspberry. Kaitlyn followed suit in exiting the vehicle.
Vern knocked on Brad’s front door and entered. Susan went in next, and Kaitlyn closed the door behind her.
Kaitlyn scanned the crowd within. Well over twenty-five kids, ranging from fourteen to eighteen, were already in a partying mood and mingling. Wisely, Brad had removed the breakables, the cluttering furniture from the living room, and covered his mom’s sofa with a blanket. Her gaze fell on three massive guys in football jerseys. They took turns in pouring beer from a keg into plastic glasses.
Vern quickly rounded up three glasses for their small group. As he handed one to each of them, he gave them a reminder. “Remember what I said.” He nodded curtly then left them on their own.
Kaitlyn raised her glass, peered through the golden liquid, and sniffed at its head of foam. She shrugged and ventured a sip of the beer for the very first time.
“Yuck! It tastes disgusting,” she gasped, unable to mask her disgust. She watched in amazement as Susan took a deep swig, then chocked some after she swallowed it.
“Eww! You’ve got that right!” Susan was still trying to shake off the awful taste. “Let’s control our disgust,” Susan added, “so we don’t look like losers. Let’s just pry sips down our throat. When it’s done, we’ll dance.”
They nursed their beers, watching the dancing moves of the others on the makeshift dance floor until Kaitlyn’s spirits fell. She’d spotted Stacey Cummings and her best friend, Gwen Gleeson, coming through the front door.
Stacey, her nemesis, was clutching Mike Smith’s arm. Even from afar, her eyes seemed glazed over. Kaitlyn’s first thought was that she was likely already drunk. Gwen, Stacey’s puppy, strolled in solo behind the couple. She was dressed to pick up guys.
Mike ditched his date and her friend nearby to fetch drinks. Stacey panned the room, and her glance fell on Kaitlyn.
She elbowed Gwen, a disgusted look evident on her face, and let out for everyone within earshot to hear, “God, those scuzzy welfare people are here. Can’t get away from them.”
Determined to ignore the bullies, Kaitlyn held her head high.
Lowering her voice to what she thought was a whisper, Stacey conspired, “I will make it so they never come to one of Brad’s parties again,” she added in a whining tone, “it’s only supposed to be the popular people here.”
“Stacey,” Gwen pled, moving to block Stacey’s view of Susan and herself. “The party is big enough. We can just ignore them. Don’t stir it up, have fun with Mike. Just leave them be.”
Hatred filled Stacey’s facial expression. “No way, they need to learn a lesson, learn their place.”
Kaitlyn mentally shook her head. She had expected such an answer, having been the victim of Stacey’s streak of meanness and stubbornness since the first grade. And Stacey nurtured her qualities on a daily basis.
Visibly shaking her head and raising a hand in defeat, Gwen relented, distancing herself. “Whatever. Sometimes you can be so cruel. Leave them be.” But hearing Gwen’s words did not soothe Kaitlyn’s mood.
Stacey verbally attacked Gwen’s retreating form. “You were nothing before I let you hang with me.”
Knowing how Stacey operated, Kaitlyn cringed at the drilling Gwen was about to get.
“You’d better shut up, Gwen, or you’ll spend the next four years at the library instead of at parties with me.” Poor Gwen looked as if she had been slapped.
She froze then returned to her friend’s side. “I’m sorry, Stacey. It must be the beer talking. I just want you to have a good time with Mike and not worry about scummy people.”
Kaitlyn couldn’t believe the sight before her. Gwen was desperate, sucking up to Stacey.
Stacey gave Gwen a long stare as if reconsidering her threat. “Apology accepted,” she said loftily.
Kaitlyn was so saddened to see how much control this bully exercised over even her own best friend. She sighed heavily, letting the matter go.
Susan and her finished their bitter beer and coaxed each other to join a fast dance they liked. Stayin’ Alive by the popular Australian band the Bee Gees had everyone in the middle of the room doing their best moves.
Nobody else seems to mind their Native status. Kaitlyn filled her lungs with a soothing breath. Evidently, there were still young people who had not yet been trained in the fine art of discrimination.
Vern left his football friends and joined them on the dance floor. “I’m parched,” Susan claimed between dances—Vern’s cue to get them two more beers.
Despite feeling a bit light-headed from the first one, Kaitlyn accepted the second beer. She would have much preferred a Mountain Dew, but a previous glance to the table where drinks were lined up for the taking confirmed no soft drinks were being served. Maybe Mountain Dew was for dweebs.
She was sipping, forcing the vile stuff between her lips when Brad, the host, grabbed her arm. “Come on, let’s dance!” He coaxed her until she relented.
Pleased at being asked by the greatest catch of the football team, Kaitlyn put her beer glass on the nearest table, and with elation, she followed Brad into the dancing crowd. After the second fast dance, Brad thanked her politely and then took a turn on the floor with Susan.
Her mood fell. Brad was just being nice to all his guests. That was fine with her; she could appreciate a touch of class when she saw it. She sipped more beer, distancing each sip but still trying to re-hydrate herself without any head-rushes.
Despite Stacey’s presence and nasty disposition, Kaitlyn was enjoying herself. Until her head began spinning. She plunked herself in the first available seat, in the nick of time as she was about to fall flat on the floor.
To her dismay, even seated on the sofa, the room kept on spinning. Had she drank the beer too quickly? Remembering the bitter taste, she quickly dismissed the notion.
Mere seconds passed and she felt the color draining from her face. She’d never felt this horrible before now. Panic usurped her earlier fun feelings. Something was terribly wrong.
Susan must have noticed her state because Kaitlyn became aware of her presence when she dropped to her knees before her. “Kaitlyn, what’s the matter? You look like crap.”
“I’m sick, real sick. Get Vern. Oh, God…. “Kaitlyn closed her eyes and grimaced against a bout of nausea.
Susan patted her knee, reassuring her. “I’ll get Vern.”
Susan returned with Vern who took charge immediately, carrying her out to the truck. Despite the fact that Kaitlyn had ordered Vern to take her home, he sped away in the opposite direction from her house. Right to the emergency department, he’d told her.
* * * *
Vern gently placed her onto the first available gurney in the hallway. She was so grateful for his care.
Kaitlyn caught sight of the duty doctor bent over a file at the nurses’ station. He raised his glance and looked them over with disdain.
“What kind of drug is this girl on?” he called to Vern in a contemptuous manner over the whimpers of other patients. Kaitlyn shook her head to convey that she hadn’t taken drugs, but her poor state got the better of her and she gave up in her protest, lying prone on the gurney.
“Nothing,” blustered Vern who visibly swallowed hard as the doctor neared. “We were out at a party and she just started to get dizzy, feeling sickly.” Vern stepped aside.
The doctor pulled out a penlight from his shirt pocket and shined a light in her eyes. “She’s on something.”
Vern shook his head vehemently. “She’s had two beers. She doesn’t do drugs.”
The doctor’s declaration horrified Kaitlyn. “How could that be?” she mumbled weakly.
The doctor motioned for a nurse to assist. As she neared the group, he explained to her. “I’ll have to pump her stomach.” He whipped around to Vern. “Where are her parents?”
Vern looked to Susan for guidance but she remained silent. “At home,” Vern provided with hesitation.
“Get them on the phone,” the doctor snapped at Vern, as if the entire situation were his fault. “I need their permission to pump her stomach in order to save her life.”
Back in a foetal position, Kaitlyn watched Vern hurry to the nurse’s station. After a short exchange on the phone, he called the Doctor over and passed him the earpiece. The doctor was likely explaining her situation. The doctor’s nod told Kaitlyn that he’d gotten permission.
She was quickly wheeled into a treatment room, and without any delay, the doctor started the procedure.
Less than thirty minutes later, voices in the hallway revealed that her mom with younger brother Nathan had arrived at the emergency department.
* * * *
With a sullen-face, Vern greeted Margaret along with a petrified Susan. Next to pull through the emergency doors were two police officers. Panic filled his chest.
Constable Crewman rounded Margaret to reach the E.R. counter. He gave her a curt nod adding, “Hello, Mrs. Wolfe.” Then all business he turned to the nurse in charge.
Margaret smiled briefly at the officers who had been co-workers and good friends of her late husband.
To Vern, it was evident from the head nurse’s address to his Aunt Margaret and the constable that she knew them both. She motioned the constable to a private area and asked Margaret to take a seat.
Despite their low voices, Vern overhead their conversation. The nurse explained how Kaitlyn had perhaps attempted suicide. Vern became livid. The head nurse was also adding her personal suspicion that the cause might have been due to her recent loss of her father.
Vern’s outrage waned when his aunt bee-lined toward him. She grabbed at his arm. “What the hell is going on, Vern?” She eyed him with suspicion. “Kaitlyn went to a movie. How can she need to have her stomach pumped?”
“Aunt Margaret, I think Kaitlyn parked a … soda on a table, left it unattended. A kid might have put some drug in her drink as a joke. I don’t think it was meant to hurt her, Aunt Margaret.”
His aunt glared at both of them in turn. Suspicion that the whole story hadn’t yet been revealed became glaring by her narrowing stare.
“Just where were you tonight? And don’t give me any more nonsense about soda! The doctor smelled beer on her breath.”
With a guilty demeanor, Susan explained about the unchaperoned party. They had gone only to have a night of dancing, not to get wasted, she’d insisted.
Susan then admitted sharing Vern’s theory, having witnessed Kaitlyn putting down her beer to share a couple of dances with Brad, the host.
Outraged, Margaret marched to the nurse, leaving him and Susan standing guiltily in the waiting room. “My daughter’s friend thinks someone spiked her beer as a joke.”
The nurse looked around Aunt Margaret’s frame, her lower jaw hanging wide open. She quickly recovered from her shock adding, “Some joke. I’d better tell the doctor.”
Ten minutes later the doctor emerged from the curtained area and went straight to Aunt Margaret. “Mrs. Wolfe?” She rose, nodding. “We administered activated charcoal to your daughter to purge the drugs out of her system before much more of it found its way into her bloodstream. She should begin throwing up at any moment.”
Already, preliminary moans from behind the curtains reached their group.
“Mrs. Wolfe.” The doctor pocketed his hands in his lab coat. “Regulations dictate that the police be notified.” Aunt Margaret nodded toward the constables off to the side. “I called them in. They’ll take a sample of the discharge. If someone did indeed try to poison your daughter, the discharge becomes evidence to charge the culprit who did this to her.”
Constable Crewman approached the group. “Mrs. Wolfe, I had no idea that the case involved your daughter. The dispatch service never said the name of the patient.”
“Call me Margaret.” She waved her hand in the direction of Susan and him. “Question her friends and track down the creep who did this to my daughter.”
* * * *
Margaret’s nephew, Vern, and Susan Waberay, sang like birds when questioned. Constable Crewman radioed a second police car and appraised that officer to the situation. He turned to Margaret with compassion in his regard. “Another police team has been dispatched to this Brad Collin’s house.”
* * * *
From the open doorway to the house where the alleged drugging took place, the staff sergeant witnessed a clumsy teen attempt to hide the beer. “The beer could be the least of your problems, son,” he hollered over the chattering guests who now cowered in the farthest corner of the living room. His subordinate officers and he entered the room.
Having garnered their full attention, the staff sergeant ordered, “Listen up.” The chatter went dead. Having all eyes on him, he instructed, “This is what’s going to happen. First, my officers and I will search all of you. Anyone found with drugs will immediately be arrested.” A few brazen teens edged toward the kitchen doorway. The staff sergeant whistled, gaining their attention and stopping their defiance. “Anyone trying to take off will meet the same fate.” He motioned them to cluster with the other teens. “Everybody stays in this room. Officers will call your parents to have you picked up. No one leaves the premises without a parent or an adult. If you don’t have someone that can pick you up, I’ll arrest you for underage drinking. Got it? This way no one can lie and say their parents are away.”
“That’s not fair!” whined a young man.
The staff sergeant locked gazes with him. “What’s your name?”
With reluctance, the senior answered, “Duncan Cross.”
“Well then, Duncan, you won the search lottery. Officer, search that boy.”
Constable Fletcher finished patting Duncan down and returned a curt nod. “He’s clean, sarge.” He then moved to the Cummings girl standing next to the Duncan boy.
She resisted. “Do any of you goons know who my father is? He owns this town.”
The staff sergeant shook his head at the misplaced display of power while he neared her. “Ms. Cummings, you just said the wrong thing to the wrong people at the wrong time, just like your lippy friend there. Your father has no jurisdiction, authority, or influence over the Ontario Provincial Police.” He gave her a don’t-give-me-any-lip look. “You will be treated like any of the other underage drinkers present. Hand over your clutch purse.”
The still-fuming girl reluctantly reached out a hand, handing over her purse. He grabbed and opened it. He soon spied a suspicious clear plastic bag and pulled it out. On further inspection, he mentally labeled six tablets as LSD.
He fixed the young lady with a lengthy stare. “You have the right to remain silent—”
Her ill-advised bravado back, the Cummings girl screeched, interrupting her being mirandized. “My dad will have your badge for talking to me like this. Gwen, call my dad now. Right now!”
He sought who the defiant girl was addressing. He gave Gwen a stare that stopped any action she might have intended. “Sorry, Ms. Cummings, but your friend is next in being searched. If she’s clean, she may use the phone.” He returned to the Miranda warning on the Cummings girl while his partner searched Gwen’s belongings.
Young Gwen carried no drugs and she held herself together, appearing sober. He allowed her to use the telephone as a ranting Ms. Cummings was escorted to a police car.
Mike Smith, young Ms. Cummings’ date, also carried illigal drugs in a front jeans pocket. A small bag of marijuana. No LSD was found on his person. He was also arrested and joined his date in the police car. By his bewildered expression, he obviously hadn’t envisioned his date with Ms. Cummings ending in this fashion.
* * * *
Kaitlyn awoke during daylight, a lunch tray left forgotten on her hospital table. Her headache was so intense that she wished she would die. Her mouth felt and tasted like a rat sewer.
So this was a hangover.
She recalled hearing school chums boasting about their epic hangovers during recesses, as if it were some sort of contest, but, if this ranked as one of life’s great accomplishments, Kaitlyn wanted no part of it.
Feeling the need to tidy herself up, she sought the bathroom. She gazed at a frightful image of herself in the mirror, thinking of the moment when she first woke up in the emergency department. A sensation like coming up from a deep dive overtook her then.
The sound of footsteps had her turn around. Seeing her mom, she rushed to her and embraced her, only too aware of the look of shame on her face.
After they both recovered from a bout of crying, her mom drew her back, shaking her head sadly. “Child, First Nations people have to stay away from alcohol, for the sake of both health and reputation. Your presence at this infamous party embarrassed all the people of Wanitou.”
Having heard quite enough already, Kaitlyn rolled her eyes in teenage eloquence.
Her mother wept quietly until she regained her composure. “I just lost your father, and if I lost you, I’d die inside. Kaitlyn, you and Nathan are all that’s keeping me alive.”
Those words deeply affected Kaitlyn. Feeling the goose bumps on her arms, she knew without a doubt that she would never forget them.
Kaitlyn embraced her mom for what seemed like an eternity. Once she released her mom, she was grounded from seeing her friends after class, for the next two weeks.
What would she do with the two weeks that she would be housebound? That meant no sports, no Susan, and no television. Her Mom meant for her to remember that mistake, forever, and learn from it.
* * * *
After being released from the hospital, they drove home silently. Her mother seemed to drive the station wagon over every bump and pot hole along the dirt road.
Once home, a thorough brushing of teeth and a scalding hot shower improved her hangover and her state of mind. After a plain toast and an apple juice, Kaitlyn got her mom’s permission to take a walk in the fresh air to clear her stubborn headache.
She hurried over to Susan’s house without phoning ahead, as was her custom, so she could let her friend know of her grounding.
Susan opened the front door and grimaced. “You look like crap.” She motioned Kaitlyn inside the house.
“I know.” Kaitlyn was all too aware of her tear-stained face. “I had to get out of the house. Mom’s so mad at me; I feel so ashamed at having lied to her. Her pleading eyes are killing me. This morning when I entered the kitchen, she looked up at me the way she did after dad died.” She swallowed a sob. “I just had to tell you of my grounding.”
“I expected you to be grounded.”
“For the next two whole weeks. No Friends, no sport, no television.” Kaitlyn shook her head at her fate. “I’ve really messed up. Plus, that might cost me a spot on the cross-country team. I trained so hard for it.” Kaitlyn choked up.
Susan patted her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. It’s Stacey’s.” She huffed in hatred. “It has to be her that put the drug into your beer.”
Kaitlyn lifted a guilty gaze to Susan. “But Vern warned us not to leave our drinks unattended and, well, I was having so much fun dancing. I screwed up.” Kaitlyn felt the weight of her stupidity. “Are you grounded as well?”
“Nope. Remember it’s Ida. She yelled at me and then she went off brooding. She’s such a loser.”
“Don’t say that about your mom, Susan. She’s not that bad.” Feeling minutes were ticking off, Kaitlyn quickly added, “Anyway, I better get back before mom finds out I used the walk to speak to you. She’d ground me for life then.”
Susan nodded reassuringly and with a parting, “Yeah, you better.” She closed the door.
* * * *
Life went on, and her two-week grounding period expired. Kaitlyn attended her next running practice, fully expecting to be let go from the team. She thought the moment was upon her when Coach Stinson motioned her aside from the group.
“Natural ability is wonderful,” Coach Stinson said then she paused while assessing Kaitlyn. “But it is nothing without commitment, focus, and self-discipline.” She smiled at Kaitlyn. “You, my dear Kaitlyn, have all of those things, so keep on doing what you’re doing.” Walking away from the exchange, Kaitlyn breathed a sigh of relief. Someone must have tipped Coach Stinson of her ordeal and subsequent grounding.
Kaitlyn casually told her mom about making the team, as though it were a trivial matter, over supper. Her strategy was she didn’t want to draw undue attention to herself following the dreadful incident that caused such pain to her mother.
* * * *
The following Friday, Kaitlyn competed in her first cross-country run. Despite stomach flutters, she came in third in the grade nine category. Coach Stinson assured her that with more practice and seasoning, her potential to win many more meets was all but certain.
The only sad moment of her day came when Connie refused to talk to her. Stacey’s older sister and team member, who had been giving Kaitlyn the odd lift home after practice, now averted her eyes every time Kaitlyn got near her. Connie had become a supporter of her spoiled sister and her new behavior spoke of blame as if Kaitlyn were responsible for her young sister’s arrest.
Blustery cold days followed and then a warm, golden haze settled over the northern countryside. Indian summer was the popular designation, but in Wanitou, it was commonly referred to Aboriginally-enhanced Climatic Preservation.
Her mom had started a new job, which she loved. Isobel, the supervisor, let her mom work from nine to three Monday to Thursday. Even without the death benefits from the O.P.P., their family could get by on her mom working the four days a week. Kaitlyn assumed her mom wanted to keep her mind busy.
Early, on the second weekend in October, the day was cool but sunny. Her entire family, including her best friend Susan, Leslie and Buck, Susan’s siblings, all packed into a borrowed minivan while her mom, a large picnic basket in tow, settled in last. They drove to Sudbury where the regional track meet was hosted. They arrived at the conservation area by nine that morning, well in time for her race scheduled for ten that morning.
Kaitlyn introduced Coach Stinson to her mom. Her coach boasted that she was an asset to the team, which elated her.
She dedicated the next hour to all of the warm-up stretches, a necessity to avoid any muscle injury. It was boring, but a necessary evil, like washing dishes. The preparation was also part of her self-imposed regimen that so impressed her coach, who briefly interrupted her to give her a short word on her main competition and a run-down of the course.
The run consisted of a five kilometer tract that included steep hills, shallow streams, and narrow nature paths.
The call for her age group came quickly to Kailtyn. In a daze, she found herself at the start off line amongst fourteen other athletes from a wide variety of schools throughout northern Ontario. The bang of the starter pistol had her sprinting off the starting gate without a conscious effort on her part. She and her main adversary, a competitor named Rose Carter, took the lead, feet thudding frenetically and breath whooshing rhythmically.
Once her rhythm was established, Kaitlyn glanced at Rose. She was wiry where Kaitlyn was slender and lean.
Rose Carter had arrived in Sudbury back in September from Toronto. A seasoned competitor, she had been in cross-country racing since grade five. She had compiled a formidable reputation for her stamina and solid performance. Per Coach Stinson who made it her business to know the competition, Rose was particularly adept at handling hills.
Kaitlyn kept up neck and neck for the first mile. A hill loomed and she gathered her inner strength, forcing herself to take the lead up the hill, a move to deter the competition mentally, but Rose also put on extra effort, tail-gating her so closely that she expected to be overtaken at any moment. Kaitlyn now silently agreed with Coach Stinson’s assumption; Rose’s experience showed.
The top of hill led the way to a nature trail which ran through scraggly brush in much need of trimming. Kaitlyn ducked and weaved so as to avoid scratches from the branches. Rose seized the opportunity, capturing the lead and maintained a short lead for the next kilometers.
In the final quarter of the race, Kaitlyn’s perseverance at practice paid off. She went into a sprint, pulling on every ounce of strength left in her being, lungs burning, trails of clammy sweat dripping everywhere on her body.
Rose went into her own dash, but her stride could not keep up with Kaitlyn’s. She went through the finish line, her family cheering along with her team mates.
She’d won! By a good two meters.
After a short recovery, Kaitlyn gave everyone a clammy hug. To her elation, even Josh Recollent from grade eleven came bounding up for a hug of his own. Her face still heat-flushed from the race likely turned a deep crimson when Josh hugged her, but she did her utmost to remain nonchalant.
Once all of the results had been compiled, Kaitlyn received a gold medal for her win. It was decided that the family would go out to an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet to celebrate. During the meal, young Buck stared right at Kaitlyn, and in an irritating singsong voice, began to tease her. “Kaitlyn’s got a boyfriend, Kaitlyn’s got a boyfriend.”
When Nathan chimed in, her mom stepped in to stop the harrassment. The more she interferred, the sillier and louder the boys became.
“Stop being so stupid!” Susan ordered the boys with a warning look that meant possible reprisals later.
“Who? Us?” More shrieks of laughter erupted.
“Yes, you. Now, smarten up. Look, there’s a video game over there….”
Chapter Two
Having graduated from law school in the class of 1989, Maxine Swayman went out on job interviews, seeking a position as an articling clerk to start her new career as a lawyer. Many of her friends from her study group had already acquired jobs.
Richard was leaving the Toronto area, having scored a spot in a Crown Attorney’s office in London, Ontario. Three others were going to work as articling law students throughout the Toronto area. When they learned that she had secured a first interview with the prominent Bay Street firm of Curzon, Horowitz, Hough, Lympany, and Hess, her friends showed jealousy, mentioning how beautiful the firm’s quarters were. All wished aloud they could hold a position in such a beautiful old brownstone building in Toronto.
From her perspective, the Monday afternoon interview went really well. She believed she delivered an eloquent and well-crafted performance. Both Mr. Hough and Mr. Horowitz knew her father well.
It was never clear whether it was because of, or in spite of this fact that, the next day Maxine learned the position had been given to another incumbent. Granted, it had been her first interview, but nonetheless, she sank into a blue funk. Not even Nicola, her sister and roommate, could raise her spirits.
The following Friday evening in anticipation of a planned gathering, Maxine put Billy Joel’s beloved Piano Man on the stereo, mixed a pitcher of strawberry daiquiris, and set out corn chips, salsa, and guacamole on the veranda terrace.
Didi, Maxine’s secondary school pal, and Samuel, a new friend from England, were due at the waterfront apartment within the hour. The evening plans involved cocktail hour with their guests, followed by dinner at North of 49, and a night of dancing in clubs.
Her preparations complete, Maxine lounged on the balcony, sipping on a diet soda and warming her body in the heat of the July sun as she admired the several yachts on the harbour criss-crossing the shimmering water like water beetles.
She sighed. It was a beautiful evening, but one shadowed by the fact that she was still jobless. She could rely on connections through her dad, however, she aimed at making it on her own merits.
The telephone rang, interrupting her mulling. She uncoiled herself from her chaise lounge and hurried inside.
“Maxine?” At her acknowledgement, the other party went on, “It’s Uncle Stan. Congratulations on your graduation. Now that you’re a lawyer, the family could use you.” The man paused. She figured Stan was pooling on his courage to go on. “Can you come up north tonight or tomorrow?”
First, Maxine was astonished to hear from her father’s second cousin of the Cummings side of the family. How was she even related to him? She didn’t even know, but one fact remained: His voice was downright pushy and it irked her.
“Uncle Stan … I haven’t talked to you in … over two years. What’s happening? It sounds, uh, important…. “The anticipation of her evening dissipated like air gushing out from a balloon.
“I’ve got to call your dad more often. Here’s the thing: Your cousin Stacey is due in criminal court on Monday. We need a lawyer who isn’t from this God-forsaken little hick town to defend her.”
Despite having met Stacey only a handful of times, Maxine was not surprised or concerned at this latest development. Stacey was a stuck-up little brat. “When was she arrested?”
“Two months ago.”
Maxine bit her tongue, stiffening at the gall of the man. Then in true Swayman form she had inherited from her dad, she blurted out, “So why are you calling me the Friday before court?” Overhearing his deep intake of breath, she detected an embarrassment, a lengthy hesitation from him.
“I fired the last lawyer,” he confirmed at last. “You’ll be better. You’re fresh out of school and, I’m sure, want to establish yourself professionally. I want you to take on the case.”
She wondered what exactly had transpired that Stan had to resort to calling her, making Stacey’s trouble with the law known to the entire family. “Why did you fire the last one?”
“He wanted my Stacey to plead guilty and take a plea bargain, like a common criminal. Could you believe that? Plus Stacey didn’t relate well to the man. He even claimed that Stacey is a spoiled child who needs to grow up.”
Maxine silently praised and agreed with the gutsy lawyer. Curiosity got the best of her. “What’s she charged with?”
Stan’s voice became hushed. “Well … Personally, I think it was a girl’s prank that went desperately wrong. Stacey fell under the influence of a no-good boy. Both went to an unchaperoned party together. A Native girl threatened my Stacey, and she retaliated by slipping LSD into her beer. You know those Indians; they’re drunk all the time anyway.”
The roundabout admission triggered a memory: why her dad hadn’t spent much time with Stan over the years, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably.
As children, Nicola and her had always referred to Stan as their uncle even though he was only their father’s second cousin. Stan Cummings was a successful businessman who bragged openly about locating his factory up north to avoid paying the workers a decent wage. She distinctly remembered how her father had then been horrified at his cousin’s avarice.
Obviously expecting Maxine to jump at the chance at being in court, Stan pursued with his convincing argument when she remained silent on the matter. “The Indian girl was brought to the hospital by a male relation who told the cops where they had been that evening. The cops went to the premises to investigate, entering the house without a parent present.They searched the others and my Stacey looking for drugs. Only two people were arrested; Stacey and her boyfriend, Mike Smith.”
“What is Stacey’s take on all this, Uncle Stan?”
“She admits doing it. But only as a joke. Stacey claims this Native, one of those rough types living on a reservation without toilets, has goaded her for years. The girl is … fatherless as well.”
In light of the obvious discrimination going on, she wouldn’t take the case. “Uncle Stan, you’d better get another lawyer, not me. Or Dad.”
“Listen, Maxine.” Her Uncle Stan’s voice took on a nasty edge, as if he were talking to an errant mill-hand. “I’m giving you the break of your life time, and you’re throwing it away? Without even talking to your cousin? What’s the problem?”
… Continued…
Download the entire book now to continue reading on Kindle!
Niv Kaplan was born in Israel in 1959. Grew up in Kibbutz Ayelet HaShahar and in NYC. Studied Audio Engineering in NYC. Studied Physics and Engineering in CAL POLY Pomona. Received his BSc degree in Marketing from CAL State University, Northridge (CSUN). Published his first novel "Disappearance" in 2012. Started writing "TRACKS" in 1997. Lives in Tel Aviv, Israel with his wife Tali and their seven children. 
