Nowhere to Hide

ONE Kevin The strident ring of the classroom phone jars fifteen-year-old Kevin Tyler out of test mode. Glancing up from his Grade 11 biology quiz, he finds Miss Waters staring at him, the handset of the phone dangling from her fingers. She sets the phone back on its hook, then gestures for him to follow and walks out of the classroom. Miss Waters’ glassy eyes and woebegone expression send a sliver of ice snaking through his gut. A call from the office and Stormy Waters on the verge of tears. This can’t be good news, Kevin thinks. Reluctantly, he flips his answer sheet over, wondering what will become of his almost completed test. He studied like a dog for the frigging thing and thinks he’s got it aced. Best buddy Ben Mohsen, seated at the next desk, smirks behind his hand. “What did you do, Kev?” Kevin shrugs as he gets up and follows his teacher into the hallway, his sense of trepidation growing with every step. “They want you in the office,” Miss Waters says when the door closes behind him. “Why? I haven’t done anything wrong.” “I know.” If nothing’s wrong, why am I going to the office? She pauses, as if she’s about to blurt something before she thinks better of it. “Go on, Kevin. Principal Armitage will explain everything.” “What about the test? I’m almost done. Am I going to have to take it again?” “Just go, Kevin. Don’t worry about the test. I’ll take care of it.” Bewildered, Kevin turns and shuffles down the long, empty hallway leading to the front of Western Canada High School, the only sounds the squeak of his Skecher sneakers on the gray linoleum floor and the thumping of his heart. Principal Armitage is pacing the hallway outside the office, accompanied by an enormous cop whose shaved head glows under the overhead lights. The cop’s presence eases Kevin’s mind. He picks up his pace, secure in the knowledge he hasn’t done anything of interest to the cops—never has, so this is clearly a misunderstanding. He almost cracks a grin: Wednesday, January 25th. My first brush with the law. He’ll straighten this out and be back to class in plenty of time to finish his test. The newfound bounce in his step falters when he sees the same forlorn look in the principal’s eyes that was in his teacher’s. Even the cop seems bummed out. What’s up? As Kevin walks up to them, the principal nods at the officer. “Kevin, this is Constable Jenkins." The cop meets Kevin’s gaze. “Hi, Kevin.” “Hey,” Kevin replies. Geez! This guy’s huge. Color him green and here’s the Incredible Hulk, right here in my school. Principal Armitage takes Kevin’s arm and steers him past three or four desks. “Let’s talk in my office.” Kevin eyes the administrative staff uneasily as he passes by. Even they have the look! They troop into her office. The principal closes the door and adjusts her ruby-red designer glasses. Bug eyes, the kids call her when she gets angry. Instead of her usual hard-assed self, Armitage seems more like a kindly aunt this afternoon. She points toward a well-worn plaid sofa across from her cluttered desk. “Please sit down, Kevin.” The principal pauses, as if she’s at a loss for words. Whatever is happening, Kevin wants no part of it. His patience wanes as the silence stretches to several seconds. You called me down here and messed up my test to stare at me? “We have unfortunate news, Kevin,” Armitage stammers before shifting her gaze to Jenkins. The cop nods and settles into a chair in front of the principal’s desk, then hitches it closer, his eyes never leaving Kevin. For such a behemoth, he has an almost kindly manner. Still, he’s a cop. Kevin can’t let his guard down. This touchy-feely stuff isn’t how suspects are supposed to be questioned. Kevin has seen plenty of cop shows; this definitely isn’t how things go down. “There’s been an accident,” Jenkins says. “An accident?” “I’m afraid so, son. A car accident.” Kevin waits, wondering what’s wrong with these people—he doesn’t even have a driver’s license yet. What are they accusing me of? Do I need a lawyer? Jenkins shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Kevin. Your mother and father were killed." The cop’s lips keep moving, but Kevin doesn’t hear a word as he grapples with what he just heard. It’s a mistake! Mom and Dad are at work! We’re going out for pizza tonight, then to see the new Star Trek movie—number two hundred fifty eight or whatever it is. Dad loves the stupid things. This doesn’t happen in real life. Not in my life, anyway. It happens in movies, on TV, in the news. They’ve made a mistake. It’s not true! “They’re at work today,” he says matter-of-factly. Jenkins shakes his head slowly. “They are!” Kevin insists. “When did this supposedly happen?” “Just after one o’clock,” the cop replies. “Where?” “On Seventeenth Avenue, in Killarney.” Kevin’s getting pissed. Don’t these idiots understand? There’s no way this could have happened. Be patient, he tells himself. They’re adults. “My dad works downtown and Mom works near Chinook Centre. Neither of them would have been in Killarney.” Jenkins stares back impassively. “Maybe they were meeting for lunch?” Oh crap! Today’s their anniversary. Mom and Dad were all lovey-dovey this morning and mentioned meeting for lunch at Spiro’s, which just happens to be on 17th Avenue in Killarney. It’s where they had their first date or something. The fight drains out of Kevin as reality sets in. He pulls his feet up onto the sofa, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around them, head spinning as his eyes burn with tears. Random thoughts ricochet through his mind: Where will he get money to buy food? What about the hockey game tomorrow night? He’ll have to walk the dog every night by himself, no more conning Mom or Dad into it. The enormity of the situation