Chapter 30
THEN
Here’s a tip. If you ever feel that hot, bubbly rage—the rage that is black in color rather than red—run.
Run and run and run until you’re out of breath and your body is weak and the anger drains out of you.
This not only gets you out of trouble, it also leaves you too weary to conjure up any more rage.
That’s what I did on Bonfire Day. I ran from Billy, away from Daphne and the other kids, up the beach as far as I could until I couldn’t run anymore.
Then, I stood by a rubbish bin catching my breath.
“Mabel?”
I startled. “Mr. Loukas?”
Mr. Loukas was barefoot, his trousers rolled up, a white fluffy dog at his ankles. A brown leather leash was draped across his shoulders like a beach towel.
“I thought that was you.”
It was jarring, seeing him outside the school grounds. I had not considered the prospect that his existence continued beyond the parameters of the classroom. I had certainly not considered his existence to include a white, yappy dog.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I nodded. Then shook my head. I felt my face contort and crumple, finally losing in my efforts to keep myself together.
Mr. Loukas removed the leash from his shoulders and clipped it to the dog’s collar. “There’s a bench over there. Let’s sit.”
I hesitated. The sun was setting and the beach was bathed in golden light, but quickly sinking into darkness. Cess and Ness would worry.
“Come on,” he urged. “Marilyn is a very good listener.”
“Marilyn?”
He nodded at the dog. “Monroe. I’m a fan of beautiful women, what can I say? Come on.”
I followed him to the little bench, and we sat side by side. Marilyn immediately moved to the nearby rubbish bin and started sniffing.
I kept my gaze forward.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“Where do I start?”
“Start where the pain is,” Mr. Loukas said.
“The pain is everywhere.”
He turned toward me so his thigh grazed mine. “Losing your mother is a huge blow at your age. You’re grieving, Mabel.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Oh?” He cocked his head. “What else is going on?”
“All the kids call me Mad Mabel.”
Mr. Loukas winced. “That’s not a very nice name.”
Marilyn yapped. “Marilyn agrees,” he added.
“Before my mother died she told me I had a sister. Her name was Kitty. She told me Kitty died of polio when I was three and she was one. My parents never spoke of her because my father believes I intentionally gave her polio.”
Mr. Loukas exhaled slowly, shaking his head. Marilyn continued yapping.
“I don’t remember Kitty, and I definitely don’t remember giving her polio.
I didn’t even know she existed until a few weeks ago.
Now I find out that other kids know, and they also think I killed her.
And I’m wondering if this is the reason I’ve never had a friend …
because everyone thinks I’m a … monster. ”
Mr. Loukas didn’t say anything. Marilyn continued yapping. She didn’t appear to be the good listener that Mr. Loukas had sold her to be. But Mr. Loukas wasn’t bad.
“Mabel!” From off in the distance, I heard Cess’s faint voice. “Mabel! Where are you?”
“That’s my aunt,” I said.
“Go,” he said. “You don’t want her to worry. I’ll see you at school.”
“Okay,” I said, and I stood.
“Mabel?”
I turned back.
“Not everyone thinks you’re a monster.” He smiled at me. “Marilyn thinks you’re amazing.”
“Mabel!” Cess called again, and I turned and ran, Mr. Loukas’s words bubbling inside me. No one had ever called me amazing before. I liked it. Even if it came from a dog.