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Whistler Writers’ Group short stories

In May 2002, Stella Harvey formed The Whistler Writers’ Group, affectionately known as The Vicious Circle, to support aspiring writers in the community.

In May 2002, Stella Harvey formed The Whistler Writers’ Group, affectionately known as The Vicious Circle, to support aspiring writers in the community. The group has been a raging success with over 40 members gathering each month to read, chat and critique each other’s work. The collective is also responsible for an on-going and incredibly successful series of public readings and workshops. This story is the first in a series of eight short works of fiction that will be presented at the Celebration 2010 literary event. The event is sponsored by the Government of British Columbia, the Resort Municipality of Whistler and the Whistler Arts Council and will run on Feb. 22 nd and Feb. 23 rd at 8 p.m. at Uli’s Flipside in the Creek.

 

Lost Summer

Andre, Jordy, Hayley Collins, Martin Stefaniuk and some other people I recognized, but didn’t really know, were dancing in the purple glow of the mosquito zapper. They smiled and laughed and bumped into each other spilling their drinks on sandaled and bare feet. They all looked so happy. A bit drunk and wasted too maybe, but then, so was I.

I stood on the path practically hypnotized by watching them. I wanted to go over, but I was afraid I might break the spell. And I didn’t want to ruin their fun. Or mine for that matter. So I just kicked off my flip-flops, wiggled my toes in the grass and moved my hips and arms a little where I was.

Hayley was tugging on Jordy’s shirt, pulling him toward her then pushing him away in one of those silly dances from those fifties movies like Grease . The jive, or the jitterbug or the jerky chicken. Once in a while, they’d do a hip-hop move but mostly they swung each other around or ducked forward for little hugs and grabs. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so happy. He had a smile plastered across his face and his whole body seemed lighter. He was even managing to look like he knew how to dance. Usually he made these sort of small, jerky moves like he was constipated.

One time, I even caught him practice dancing in front of his mirror. He was totally horrified. So was I. Not that I’d caught him, but that he thought he was actually dancing. I was afraid of embarrassing him any more than I already did, so I just said it looked like he was having a blast and started doing some fly girl stuff beside him. But he thought I was making fun of him and pushed me out of his room and slammed the door. I really wanted to give him pointers so he wouldn’t look like a complete doofus, but I knew that would have made it way worse. It was nice to see that he’d somehow figured out to look like he had rhythm. Or maybe it was all the party snacks that made it seem that way.

Andre was sort of jumping on the spot and flailing his arms around like a madman. If I didn’t know he was so amazing, I might think he was a total geek. Instead, watching him just made me smile and laugh and made my face feel all warm. He was grooving around in his own world looking completely thrilled with life. Martin Stefaniuk looked like he was trying to imitate him, either that or swatting away the bugs the zapper missed.

Martin was kind of a weird guy, not in a bad way, but odd. I didn’t really know why Jordy and Andre were friends with him, but then some things are just mysteries of nature. Once he came up to me at the big library downtown and asked if I wanted to go to a movie with him sometime. I said yes, I mean why not right, it was just a movie and he was an okay guy, but then he never ever mentioned it again so I just pretended it never happened. It was easier than asking about it. I’m not sure if he changed his mind, or forgot, or met another girl, or if maybe Jordy told him he couldn’t. Whatever. It’s not like I was jonesing to go out with him or anything, but it’s always nice when an older guy notices you. And strange when they un-notice you just as fast. Thing is, I could never figure Martin out, he was different every time I talked to him. It was like he was trying out a new personality each time, or playing "Either Or" with himself and hadn’t told anyone else. Sometimes he’d be really clever and nice. Other times he was sarcastic and kind of snobby. I guess tonight, he’d be funny and sweet since he seemed to be copying Andre’s moves. I had to give him points for taste.

Andre was shaking his mop of hair and jumping around when he knocked a bottle out of some guy’s hand. It smashed on the patio. A few of the girls squealed and jumped out of the way of the foaming beer and glass shards. Andre was also barefoot and did this exaggerated hop step over the puddle and off the patio. He caught my eye, smiled and waved. I waved back, but he’d already turned to talk to Martin and Hayley.

Jordy had run into the cottage and was already coming out with a mop and a new beer for the guy who lost his. He quickly cleaned up the mess and the dancing resumed. It all happened so fast, it was like nothing happened at all.

When they were all dancing and laughing again, I started to wonder if it even happened at all or if I was hallucinating. I didn’t think pot or booze made you hallucinate. And I really, really, really hoped they didn’t. I mean E and K and acid and meth and all that other crap was way too nasty and crazy for my taste. A few people at school had tried it and some even did it every weekend. I would never do anything like that because what if you never stopped tripping? You might never be the same. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened to Gordo Turner. He used to come to school totally out of his tree, if he bothered coming at all. Finally he got expelled and was sent to some boot camp rehab place. After he got out, people from school would see him at the mall and he would tilt his head and stare at them like he was retarded.

I knew I was safe just smoking some pot. But why was everything going in slow motion? I needed to talk to someone to make sure I wasn’t about to fall out of my tree. I turned and looked for Jana, but didn’t see her so I wandered down toward the picnic table.

"Great party, huh?" A tall, lean guy I’d never seen before tapped me on the shoulder. He held out a joint. I was caught off guard and started to wave it off. Then I changed my mind and snatched it for a little puff. I’d heard somewhere that sometimes smoking a bit more helped bring you down again.

"I guess," I answered stifling a cough.

I didn’t really know what made a party good or bad. It could be great for one person and crap for another. It was so arbitrary. I mean if the guy you were into showed up, then the party might be good. If he talked to you, or even better kissed you, then the party could elevate from zero to awesome. But if he talked to someone else and ignored you, then the party would be crap. So far Andre had talked to me, invited me wakeboarding and smiled and waved. We hadn’t danced or kissed, but that was a start. It was definitely something and it was definitely weighing in on the very, very good side. And now a hottie I’d never met or seen before was talking to me, so I guess that would rate this as a definitely good party. Even a great one.

"How’d you wind up here?"

"I live here," I said feeling a little woozy. "Well I mean, I live in Toronto, but I’m living here for the summer."

"What’s ‘here’? In town or this cottage?"

"The cottage. I’m Frannie."

"Darren. I play hockey with Jordan," he said.

"My condolences, everyone says he skates like a girl," I don’t know where that came from. No one ever said that, but it sounded good coming out of my mouth. Either that or I had forgotten how to make sense while talking to someone. My head was feeling like a block of concrete so that might be it.

"He’s better than he used to be. So, should I know you?" He finally asked.

I wasn’t sure if our conversation was going in slow motion or if maybe Darren had been playing hockey without a helmet. My mouth felt so dry and puffy it was almost impossible to talk.

"Jordy’s my sister," I sighed. Everyone always knew that. We looked like a boy version and a girl version of the same person.

"You mean brother," he said.

"That’s what I said, didn’t I? What I meant," I wasn’t sure anymore.

"Wow. He never mentioned he had such a hottie in the family," Darren smiled.

"I’m usually chained in the attic," I think I was blushing my face felt so hot. And I was amazed I managed to say something almost clever after saying something so stupid.

"Glad they let you out."

"How do you know I didn’t escape?" I squinted my eyes to try and look serious. I had a feeling it wasn’t working and let out a little laugh.

"Does that mean you’re dangerous?" Darren had a nice smile. A really kind, friendly, solid smile.

"Mainly to myself," I blinked and looked down at my feet. Darren put his finger under my chin and tilted my head up.

"Ah, now I see the resemblance, you look like Jordy with long hair and boobs," he gave me a light shoulder slam. A body check. Figures, he was a hockey player. I stepped to the side to keep my balance. My body and head felt like they were in two different places.

"That’s crazy stuff," I said pointing to the roach. Darren was slurping on it to an inch of its life. The flaming ash looked like it was going to burn his lips off, but he didn’t seem to notice.

"You just need more practice," he stubbed it out with his foot. He was wearing those cool Australian ankle boots that everyone had. Everyone except me. I wasn’t allowed to get things that were "in" until they were already out. Unless I borrowed them from Jana or Abigail who happily were always all over every new fashion movement. Mom didn’t want me to get caught up with trends. I tried to explain that sometimes things were popular because they were actually practical, but she wouldn’t listen. She said it was a "subversion of the individual" to just accept blatant consumerism. If you asked me, not shopping and listening to her little sayings all the time was a subversion of this individual.

"Aren’t your feet hot?" I asked fascinated that he could be wearing boots while I was traipsing around barefoot.

"No more than the rest of me," he said taking my hand and putting it on his chest.

I spread out my fingers across the warm cotton of his T-shirt. I couldn’t take my eyes off my hand. It was moving up and down in gentle waves to the sound of his breath. I could feel his heartbeat. I don’t remember ever noticing that with anyone before. It was almost like I could hear it echoing in my ears just by touching him. He put his hand over mine and started tugging me gently toward him.

"We should go somewhere," he whispered into my hair.

"What’s wrong with here?"

"Nothing. Here’s good, but somewhere else would be better, and better is better," he said knowingly.

"Where?" I thought I understood what he meant, but I wasn’t completely sure.

"How about your room? You said you live here."

"What?" I pulled back a little bit so I could look at him. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. His mouth was moving and there were sounds, but by the time they made it to my ears, it was like another language.

"Do you want to or not?" he asked quietly.

"What about Andre?" I wondered.

"Holden? He’s not invited," he took my hand and pointed toward the house.

"I can’t go with you," I grabbed my hand back. I started examining it like maybe he’d hurt me, even though all he did was touch it. "I’m sorry, but I’m not like that. I couldn’t do that to him."

I started walking away really quickly.

"No worries babe, I didn’t realize you guys had a thing. It’s cool," he called after me as he walked alone toward the house.

I wanted to run, but my body weighed about a thousand pounds so I walked as fast as I could in the other direction. As I got closer to the hammock and the couple making out, I stopped and stared.

Something looked strange but familiar. I stood off to the side trying to figure out what it was before I realized it was my blue dress.

"Jana?" I was completely gobsmacked and confused, but at the same time not.

She untangled herself from the boy she was canoodling with and I couldn’t believe my eyes. Drew McSkimming gave me a bleary eyed smirk.

"What are you doing?" What was I doing asking? It was totally obvious. Her mouth was red and swollen, her hair wild and unruly. And her arm had a criss cross pattern of ridges where the hammock pressed against her skin. Where the weight of Drew against her body made the hammock press her skin.

"I tried to get you interested, but you didn’t want to play, so I went for it." She shifted the blue dress, which had twisted and tangled around her chest. "You can’t be mad, you’re into Andre anyway."

"I’m not mad," I sighed. I wasn’t sure what I was, but I didn’t think it was mad. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt."

I walked away slowly feeling like maybe I’d fallen out of the sky and landed at this party. Here I was at the cottage I’d spent every summer of my life at and nothing was familiar. It was like I was from outer space and I’d learned about life on earth in space school, but when I arrived it wasn’t the way the alien leaders said it would be.

I wasn’t feeling very good. My belly was a bit sore and I felt light-headed. It was probably a combination of the pot and the tequila mixed with an extra dose of shock. But where do you go when you’re already home and it doesn’t feel comfortable? I didn’t dare go in the house. What if I ran into Darren again? He might think I changed my mind and came back on purpose.

I looked around and stumbled down the hillside toward the water. It was hard to keep my balance. I was really wasted. Just as well I avoided everyone at the party. I mean, what was I thinking interrupting Jana and Drew while they were making out. That was the geek move of the new millennium. Maybe they’d be too out of it to remember. I hoped so or I might never live it down.

When I neared the dock, I sank down on a grassy spot beside the over turned, under used canoe. I looked at the sky for a while. There were lots of stars out and it made me feel better.

I decided that maybe I actually was from outer space and that being here as a sixteen year old girl was some kind of test they gave you so they could test your potential. And maybe navigating my way through it meant I was passing.

After all, if I didn’t belong here, half the battle was finding a way to make people think that I did. And despite everything else, I think I’d managed that. I closed my eyes satisfied. Everything was going to be fine. Once the spiraling, spinning clouds disappeared, everything would be great.

Jennifer Cowan has written for the TV series Bob & Margaret , Traders, Edgemont and was the Executive Story Consultant for the upcoming Showcase erotic comedy Show Me Yours . The above is an excerpt from Lost Summer , a novel in progress about teenage lust and angst.