Sidekick Returns (16 page)

‘Oh yes, my friend,' I said with scary glee. ‘And it only gets worse. You see, I was given a totally undeserved leave of absence from my job, which means I can walk up and down the street in front of your store all day with this baby.' I gave my poster a smart slap.

The man twisted his thick bulbous features into something resembling an angry fish. ‘I'll call the cops!'

‘Oh please. You've got a guitar for sale in the window with a bullet hole in it!' I yelled. ‘You don't want cops in your … your … den of inequity!'

He puffed some air through his lips. ‘I'll give you five bucks right now if you tell me what that means.'

‘It means … it means … you are a bad person!' I strode forward and pointed my index finger on his counter. ‘And I will have justice!'

He sighed heavily and shook his head. ‘What do you want?'

Victory chills ran down my spine. ‘I need a dress.'

‘A dress?'

‘A dress that will sear a vision of me into Prince Charming's consciousness forever … and that might be good in a fight.'

‘Do I look like your freaking fairy godmother?' he asked, planting his meaty hands on his hips.

My eyes swept over my second-hand nemesis again. Why did he always have to wear dirty undershirts? Nobody with that much underarm hair should wear undershirts in public. ‘Certainly not, but you'll have to do.'

‘You're welcome to search the store, but I don't have many dresses that aren't made of latex.'

I scowled, and looked around. ‘Surely you have something that's … fancy?'

‘Sure,' he said, making a horking noise at the back of his throat. ‘There's that.'

I twisted around to see what he was pointing at. ‘Seriously?' He shrugged his rounded shoulders.

‘That's it?'

‘Hey, it doesn't get any fancier than The King.' I eyed the rhinestone encrusted white jumpsuit once more. Queenie was a wizard with a needle and thread, but that was … wow.

I exhaled heavily. ‘Fine. I'll take it.'

‘Good. Glad we could come to an agreem—'

‘I'll take it,
and
a fifty.'

‘What!'

I smacked my hands on the counter again. ‘Oh, I know you got way more than fifty for my bracelet.'

He screwed up his face, opening and shutting his mouth a few times, but unable to get anything out.

I rattled the piece of cardboard out in front of me.

‘Twenty-five,' he finally spat.

‘Fifty.'

‘Twenty-six.'

‘Fifty!'

‘Alright. Alright. Sheesh,' he said, punching a button on his older-than-dinosaurs cash register. He pulled out a stack of tens then brought his thumb up to his mouth.

‘Don't you dare lick that thumb, mister!' I yelled, with a pretty vicious point at his mouth.

He rolled his bloodshot eyes up to mine.

‘You count the money without the spit.'

He grunted, counted out five tens, and passed them to me.

‘Thank you.' I swiped the small fold away then walked over to the Elvis mannequin to fiddle with the clasps of my purchase. Hmm, it was a little harder than it looked to get unfastened. I put my sign on the floor and went at the jumpsuit again. When I finally found the zipper, it seemed to be stuck on something. I gave it a good yank, but nothing happened. I yanked harder and the metal base of the mannequin skidded a little. I yanked it as hard as I could, and the mannequin skidded right out of my hands and slid towards the bullet guitar, knocking it off its stand and tumbling into a well-worn drum set.

‘Just take the whole thing!' the man shouted.

I gave him a nod and scooped headless Elvis up and underneath my arm.

All things considered, I was starting to think my luck was turning around.

***

After my victory at the second-hand store, I decided to buy a couple of sandwiches at the deli—one for me, one for Elvis—before heading home to take a nap. Despite my full belly, I found it difficult to sleep; a glittering headless mannequin looming over your bed will do that to you. So I spent some time staring out my window trying to figure out how to keep my awesome momentum going and trying
not
to think about Jenny, my father, and any doubts about Ryder … and thinking about all of them most of the time. It seemed like a lifetime since I had left home, and yet it had only been a couple of months. I remembered what Bart had said earlier in the day about my creating chaos so that I didn't have to deal with everything that was going wrong. He might have been on to something, but to me it felt more like someone had upped the speed on the treadmill of my life, and it was taking everything in me just to keep up.

After the mulling, I got bored, so I decided to try some exercise. Five push-ups felt sufficient. I mean, I didn't want to collapse and bring my face anywhere near my floor. God only knows what was on there. After that, I watched the pigeons on the ledge outside my window and made up soap opera dialogue to match their peckish interactions … ha! Peckish. But once Slade confessed to sleeping with Maria's sister, Birdie, that got boring too.

Finally the ambient glow of the sun that managed to seep its way through the towering buildings threatening to flatten mine began to dim. It would have been peaceful if it hadn't been for the blaring of my neighbour, Mrs Reese's TV. That woman did like her cable. It sounded like the news … the news discussing something about St. James Industries!

I flopped out of bed and moved closer to the wall.
… it has been rumoured that St. James Industries has been using this technology on Jenny St. James herself …

I crouched closer to the wall.
… Some have even speculated that it was the lesser known St. James sister at the incident yesterday who …

Suddenly the channel changed. ‘No!' I shouted. ‘Turn it back!'

‘What's that dear?' Mrs Reese yelled back over what sounded to be the theme song for
Gilligan's Island
.

‘Please! Turn it back!'

‘You got a cat?'

‘Turn the channel back!' I pleaded.

‘Oh! Certainly dear.'

… Showers are expected most of the day with a high of …

I sighed. ‘It's okay. Never mind.'

‘Okay, dear.'

I got to my feet. Enough was enough. I was tired of this nonsense. My day wasn't over yet. It was time to figure out what was going on with my sister.

Chapter 21

I changed my clothes, put on my new glorious coat, and moved to hurry out of my apartment. The only problem was that I couldn't get to the door, what with Elvis blocking my way. Hmm, what to do about The King? The night at the museum was tomorrow, and as I moved my eyes over the bedazzled rhinestone brilliance of the jumpsuit, I couldn't help but think Queenie would need all the time she could get if she was going to turn this into something awesome. I grabbed Elvis around the waist and dragged him into the hall to rest in front of Queenie's door. I gave him another once-over while chewing my nail. It probably wasn't the best idea to leave him here all by his lonesome, but I couldn't wait around for her to get home. I had to find out what was going on with my sister. I just hoped that none of my more isolated neighbours made off with him for company.

I gave Elvis a little wave then headed for the stairs.

It was spitting outside. I knew I should have brought an umbrella … except I didn't own an umbrella. I rubbed my cashmered arm. ‘Hang in there, sweetheart. I'll get you someplace dry as soon as I get me some news.' I skipped-ran my way down the street, feeling like things were finally turning around. I needed to use the momentum I had going from my victory at the second-hand shop to tackle my twin troubles.

Sure, I hadn't been the greatest of people in my previous life. Vapid, shallow, self-serving, ignorant … among other things. But I was trying to do better! Be better. And I seemed to recall there's some sort of law in physics that says if you do good things, good things come back to you. Or maybe I had just read that in
Cosmo
. I often confused science and women's magazines. Either way, it didn't matter. I could feel the universe on my side. Bart wanted me to listen to the signs. Well, I was listening, baby. Listening hard.

Minutes later, I stood staring into a storefront window. The shop sold all sorts of electronics, but they had TVs playing in the front window, and at least a few of them were always turned to the news. I had spent many a night by this window. I missed TV.

I scanned the high definition pictures beaming into the night. Bingo! The TV in the bottom corner had Jenny standing in front of a podium with a microphone. I scuttled over and pressed my hands to the glass. I obviously couldn't hear what she was saying, but it didn't matter. There she was. Perfect. Beautiful. Healthy. She looked just like me … but better … like an updated version. Pain filled my chest. All signs of the disabilities she had since birth—complications of her twin sister compressing her umbilical cord—gone. No hitch in her left shoulder. Nothing slack about the expression in her face. I should have been happy, I guess. But she wasn't my Jenny. I loved the way my sister looked before. Did that make me selfish? Probably. I could just add that to the list of things that made me a bad person.

The caption beneath the video read
St. James Industries announces breakthrough treatment
. My eyes jumped around the screen looking for a LIVE tag, but found none. It had to have been taped earlier in the day. There had been a time, just a short while ago, when I knew everything she was thinking almost the same instant she did, and vice versa. It was pretty surreal looking at her face now, my face, and feeling like I was looking at a stranger. The heel of my hand automatically went to my chest to rub away the feeling that I was collapsing in upon myself.

I stood, eyes transfixed on the screen. I didn't move … couldn't move … at least, I couldn't until I felt something scamper across my feet.

Panic shot me into the air as my eyes dropped to the ground.

Rat!

I stumbled backwards until I bumped into a fire hydrant. I grabbed the cool metal to steady myself. Ew, greasy. I took another look at the rat, who had stopped running to plant himself by the corner of the building. Huh, he wasn't
so
bad. Actually, he was kind of cute, cleaning his pointed furry face with swipes of his little rat hands. Suddenly, he stopped his ablutions and looked up at me.

‘Hello.'

He didn't say anything, but there was something in the way he was regarding me. It was almost like he was trying to tell me something.

‘What's going on, little man?'

He cocked his head.

Then it hit me.

‘Oh my God!' I shouted, startling a poor woman walking past. ‘I know what you are! You're like a Destiny Rat!'

I knew it was crazy. Totally crazy. Maybe it was a bad bit of mustard from the sandwiches I had eaten earlier. But my sister being on TV? The rat looking at me like he was waiting for me to do something? Suddenly it was all so clear. I knew what I had to do. I strode over to the store's glass door and swung it open.

I spared no time looking around, but marched right up to the counter where two teenaged boys in matching navy polos were stationed, staring at me, looking mildly concerned. One of them took in my wet appearance and craned his neck to look outside, I suppose to check the weather. The other one recovered more quickly and started to say, ‘Can I help y—'

I whipped my hand across the counter, palm up, fingers spread. ‘I need to use your phone.'

The boy's eyes widened, and he shot a questioning glance at his co-worker.

‘Don't look at him,' I said sharply. ‘You don't need his permission. He's always telling you what to do.' The boy's eyebrows furrowed slightly in question as his friend started to protest. I shot one finger toward the other boy's lips. ‘Quiet. Now's not the time. He doesn't want to hear it.' I moved my gaze back to my main target. ‘Phone. Please.'

The kid grabbed a phone from its base near the cash register and slowly passed it in my direction. I snatched it from his slightly clammy fingers.

‘Miss, is this a local call? Because my boss—'

‘Hush!' I said in staccato burst, already dialling. ‘I'm on the phone.'

I leaned my lower back against the counter as the electronic ring sounded in my ear. This was perfect. My burner phone was almost out of minutes, and Jenny had stopped answering when I called. I guess she knew I was now going by
Unknown Caller
.

Enough was enough. Right or wrong, probably wrong given that most everything my father did was rooted in evil, Jenny was healed … if that was the right word. I didn't have to worry about the cost of her care anymore. I could tell her the truth about our father, and she could come live with me in my hole of an apartment. Hey, maybe we could get a bigger hole if we were both working at it. It rang. I closed my eyes and took a breath. I needed to handle this carefully. I had hurt her. Things had gotten out of control. I needed to take the higher ground here and not get emotional. I had to take ownership of the damage I had done to our relationship—not get wrapped up in her rejection of me. I needed to be apologetic—

‘Hello?'

‘Why are you being such a douche!'

Chapter 22

I slapped my forehead.
Bad mouth. Bad, bad mouth.

She only paused half a second before she fired back. ‘Me? Me? I'm being the douche!' I ignored the cool rush of shock running through my body. It was still bizarre hearing Jenny's voice. My voice.

‘Yes, you,' I said, ploughing on. Now, all my hot, bubbly emotions were getting away from me. ‘Okay, I get it. I hurt you. But I've said sorry half a billion times.' At least, I had in my head, but she knew. ‘When are you going to forgive me?'

Silence.