Annaka

have failed me in grade ten but he passed me with a fifty-two.”
Maybe he just didn’t want to teach you again.
“But anyways,” he continued. “I’m having a party at my grandparents’ spot out towards Cape Forchu. They’re going to be out of town, and I just wanted to give you an invitation since you’re back.” He handed me an envelope.
“Wow, an actual old-school paper invitation,” I pointed out. What was he, six? “Thanks. Anything else?”
“Uh…nope. That’s it.” He awkwardly moved from the truck and said, “I uh…hope to see you—”
I rolled the window up before he finished his sentence and dropped the invitation in my bag. I couldn’t wait to tell Tia that the same douchebag who tried to use her to get back at his ex was trying to get me to go to his party.
I put the truck in reverse and drove away from school just as the class bell rang. I rolled down the window again and could feel the spring air splash across my face. Mom was probably at home grading papers. She had been doing them electronically since we got to Yarmouth, so I knew to stay away from the house. Instead, I went downtown. I heard my phone vibrate and I checked it once I got to a got to a red light.
Tia: Yo, are you coming back? Bio started and Ms. Clarke is taking attendance.
I ignored the text and put my phone back in my bag. I wasn’t planning on going back. I was just everyone’s sympathy case there—just Mr. Brooks’s granddaughter.
I parked just off of Main Street and got out to sit on the back of the truck, looking down the hill towards the water. I thought about Clay. I wondered if he had cooled down. I knew he would have to come on his own terms. My heartache kept me awake at night, wishing I could have said or done things differently. I wanted to be accountable, but he had to give me a chance first.
I grabbed the journal and lay in the back of the truck again. I laughed at all the silly drawings. As I flipped through I could see the last memory and entry. It was Clay and me sitting outside of the house together on the front steps. I wanted to avoid that one. There were a lot of blank pages after that, but I flipped through them anyway. I knew Grampy used to write in it a bit—it had been his journal first after all—so I wasn’t surprised to see his handwriting. He wrote in cursive so I couldn’t quite make it out.
As I flipped back I noticed very clearly that there was a page titled, “Coming to Canada.”
When my mind put the pieces together, my heart dropped and I shut the journal immediately. Part of me wanted to respect the fact that Grampy never wanted to talk about any of those things, but another part of me was curious to know more about him. I slid off the bed of the truck and got behind the wheel. I put the journal back in the glove compartment and tried to take my mind off of it. I knew that before I sought out anything else, there was a bridge I had to rebuild.
As much as I loved my grandfather, his fashion sense wasn’t becoming on Clay. He needed something a little more modern. So I decided to drive out to the mall.
I remember there being an old carousel in the centre of the mall when I was a kid. But when I arrived I saw that it was gone, replaced with a wishing well. I could see coins layering the bottom. I took out a quarter that I really should have saved and whispered, “Please let him give me a chance,” and tossed it in. I had to start somewhere.
I made my way into a men’s clothing store called Wade’s Clothing. Not too fancy, or too casual. I looked around, wondering what Clay might like. Turtlenecks? I didn’t think so. Casual dress shirt? Sure. Hoodie? I doubted it. Brown jeans? I thought he could rock them. It probably would have helped if I knew Clay’s size; I was guessing at best.
I felt weird being one of the only people in the store. I looked around. The men working the floor just pretended I wasn’t there, but I didn’t want to talk to them anyway. I moved farther into the store and spied a grey mannequin around Clay’s size wearing a green hoodie.
Okay, what I did next was pretty embarrassing. I didn’t know Clay’s size and I wasn’t confident I could guess, so I took the green hoodie off the mannequin and wrapped a dress shirt around it, buttoning it up. I couldn’t do up the last three buttons, so I grabbed another shirt that was two sizes bigger—it fit perfectly. I stood back and admired the mannequin for a moment, excited to see what Clay would look like.
“Ma’am, what are you doing?” I heard a familiar voice, and I turned.
“Taylor!” I caught myself. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
She stared at me for a moment, her eyes wide. “Anna? I…work here.” She raised an eyebrow. “And it’s four o’clock. Where were you for the quiz?”
Ah, shit, I thought to myself. I backed up into the mannequin, knocking it over.
“What were you doing to the mannequin?” she asked, picking it up.
“I—I…I’m working on an art project. With my mom!”
“What kind of project?”
“Oh, y’know…she’s building her own mannequin. I mean, better than this one—not that this one isn’t great!—I just mean this one is probably mass manufactured, not made with any passion, y’know?” I gestured vaguely. “She made hers from scratch. We’re just trying to get clothes, to see if they fit correctly. For the display….” I put my head down, wishing I hadn’t said any of it.
“Well, can you not destroy store property in the process?” She dusted the mannequin off. Either Taylor