Time Meddlers Read online

  Chapter 3

  Truce

  Sarah plopped back in her chair, shocked, confused and a little frightened. What lingered the most, though, was a cloud of anger. Nor was she the only one with bitter feelings towards Matt. Several classmates aimed vicious stares at him after his pranks in the schoolyard.

  Sarah hated having him seated right behind her. She dropped her pencil a few times just to cast a glance backward and ensure he wasn’t tying knots in her hair or snapping elastics at her back, or disappearing for that matter. The last time she dropped the HB, he snatched it up before she could and poked her in the back with it.

  “Butterfingers,” he whispered.

  “Corpse,” she snarled.

  He actually grinned. “I like that one.”

  “Good, ’cause from now on that’s all you are to me.”

  “What was I before?”

  She arched her eyebrows.

  “Before you learned about my famous father?”

  “Nothing,” she sneered. “Nothing before and nothing after.”

  “A corpse is more than nothing. A dead man walking. A zombie without a brain.”

  “You to a T. Especially the lack of brains.”

  “Really?” He smirked.

  Snap. She hadn’t seen the teacher sneak up on them. She hadn’t thought their whispers would carry to the front. The ruler on her desk woke her up in a hurry, and Madame Leblanc’s flushed face left her no doubt—she was in for it.

  “You have work to do, have you not?” said Madame.

  “Oui, Madame.” She kept her eyes downcast and tried to sound sufficiently humble, though Matt was still grinning—the creep.

  “Since you don’t know how to be quiet, you will have to join Mr. Barnes in detention.”

  Oh no. Not the first day. Dad’s going to kill me. “But, but–” She was about to say Matt had started it, but that was being a tattle-tale and she wasn’t about to be labelled. She clamped her mouth shut. Why was Madame Leblanc so angry all the time, anyway? She’d seemed so kind at the interview. Was it because of Matt’s attitude?

  She glanced sideways and spied the woman nervously picking at her sleeve. Despite the detention, a seed of pity for Madame sprouted inside her. Sarah had only experienced one day of Matt and already she was fuming.

  At that moment the bell rang. Sarah stood and glared at Matt, but he only grinned. He actually seemed quite pleased. She couldn’t stand it.

  Their next class was history. Now that they were in Grade Six, two of their classes were taught in English and this was one of them. The teacher—Mr. Fletcher—entered the room with a broad smile. He seemed the typical history teacher. He had sculpted grey hair—not a strand out of place—and the lines on his face suggested the ancient world. When he began to speak he sounded like a jet engine in mid-flight.

  “I am Mr. Fletcher,” he introduced himself to Sarah. “And today we’ll be talking about Champlain.”

  Sarah glanced behind her and saw Matt roll his eyes.

  “Champlain was the first and greatest explorer,” continued Mr. Fletcher. With her knowledge of history, this statement disturbed Sarah. She put up her hand.

  “Yes, Sarah?”

  “I thought Cartier was the first French explorer to reach Canada. And the first ones, I think, were the Vikings. If you’re talking about the Americas, there was Christopher Columbus—”

  Mr. Fletcher sighed. “I’ve only begun to explain, Sarah.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I only wanted to point out—”

  “That you’re wrong,” said Matt.

  Mr. Fletcher’s eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. He licked his lips and began again. “I was going to say, the first and greatest explorer to reach the Ottawa region.”

  “Weren’t the aboriginal people here first?” asked Matt.

  Mr. Fletcher puffed loudly through his nose. “Yes, the First Nations were here before Champlain; but Champlain discovered this region.”

  “How could he discover it if there were people already here?”

  “He discovered it for France,” Mr. Fletcher said through clenched teeth. “Now, Mr. Barnes, Miss Sachs, if you would let me continue . . .”

  “Go right ahead,” said Matt.

  “You’re bad,” whispered Sarah, trying her best not to snicker.

  “Champlain sent one man, Étienne Brûlé, up the Ottawa River and on to Lake Huron with the Wendat people, also called the Hurons. The exchange of a European for a Wendat was a trick perpetrated by Iroquet, an Algonquin chief. He originally promised to exchange the young Frenchman for an Algonquin—the Algonquin lived in this region—but the Algonquin had no intention of letting the French have access to their land, so they offered Champlain a Wendat so he could learn their ways instead.”

  “Champlain wasn’t very smart, was he?” said Matt.

  Mr. Fletcher scowled. “Smart enough, Mr. Barnes, to exchange pots and kettles for valuable furs and knowledge of the land.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” said Sarah.

  Matt looked at her curiously. “No, it wasn’t,” he muttered in an irritated tone. This seemed odd to Sarah for a boy who didn’t seem to care about anything or anyone.

  “All’s fair in love and war, my dear,” said Mr. Fletcher. “Remember, the French were at odds with the British and every parcel of land, every advantage they could gain, would help them defeat the British.”

  “Didn’t they lose?” asked Matt.

  Mr. Fletcher slapped his head with his hand. “That doesn’t matter at this point. Now I suggest, Mr. Barnes, that you just listen from now on and refrain from making any more comments. You might learn something.”

  “Okay,” said Matt, “but I’m warning you, if I can’t take part I sometimes . . . you know, nod off.” He yawned loudly, cracking his jaws.

  Sarah scrunched up her face and watched him crookedly from her seat. He had the most outrageous gall she’d ever seen in anyone. Yet, despite the teacher’s obvious frustration, he got away with it. Why was that? Were the teachers afraid of him, or did he hold something over their heads?

  Mr. Fletcher turned and wrote some names on the board. Of course Champlain was at the top, then Étienne Brûlé, Iroquet—the Algonquin chief—and a date—1610. Sarah immediately started jotting everything down. But it wasn’t long before a desk-rattling snort broke her concentration. She glanced back at Matt in disbelief, but there was no mistake. His head was resting on his arms and his eyelids were fluttering.

  Sarah shook her head and continued to copy down the facts. The Algonquin were at war with the Iroquois, her teacher explained, the Five Nations people who lived on the other side of the St. Lawrence River and Lake Ontario. The similarity of the names confused Sarah at first. “Iroquois—Five Nations people,” she wrote in her notebook. “Iroquet—Algonquin chief—Iroquois enemy.”

  Mr. Fletcher continued his lesson until the bell rang. Sarah sighed. Finally. The last class of the day. At the sound of the bell, Matt jerked awake and stuffed his empty notebook back into his desk. He stood up, stretched and sauntered out the door. Sarah just caught his smirk when he looked her way. She lifted her full notebook off the desk, intent on throwing it in his face, but he just ducked and laughed as he walked into the hall.

  The last class was Phys Ed—time for the jocks to judge everyone else’s fitness and skill, particularly the new kid, and jeer if they weren’t athletic stars. As Sarah entered the gym they all turned and stared. Whispers hissed among her peers. Matt looked up from where he was dribbling a basketball by the foul line. His eyes contracted as he followed her movements.

  “Hey Sachs,” he yelled.

  Sarah glared at him. She felt like flipping him a rude hand sign.

  “Heads up!” The basketball came careening over the floor towards her head. Sarah snatched it out of midair and whipped it back at him with a snap of her wrist. Matt ducked, the ball shaving his head and bounding off the wall behind him. He looked at her, his face flushed,
his mouth hanging open. It was the first time she’d seen him lose his intractable cool.

  For the rest of the period it was her turn to smirk, show off, and even sneer, a little. She was in her element now, having spent long hours on the basketball court with her best friends in Toronto, Keith and Jamie. She remembered Keith’s jaw drop open the first time he’d seen her, lobbing a ball from the middle of the court right into the net. She’d never looked back—they’d made an instant connection. Too bad she couldn’t make any connections here.

  She dribbled over the court, weaving in and out like a Harlem Globetrotter. Despite the solid body of Matt in her face, she managed to sidestep him with ease and come in for a sensational lay-up that sent the ball sailing through the mesh. She loved seeing the stunned expression on Matt’s face. It was now a contest between them. The rest of the players ceased to exist for them. They continued to square off until Matt was called for a third foul on her and the final bell rang. They each headed off to their respective dressing rooms, glaring at each other until they passed the archway.

  Sarah dreaded spending the next hour in detention together. She had had just about enough of Matt for today. She trudged down the hall towards her homeroom, where Madame Leblanc was tapping her toes. She nodded at Sarah, then tore off some pages of French literature for her to copy on the board.

  “You must complete it all,” she said.

  Sarah sighed and picked up the piece of chalk. She’d just begun to scratch out the first words when Matt sauntered in.

  “You’re late,” snapped Madame Leblanc.

  “I’m here,” said Matt, as if that in itself was better than she could hope for.

  “Humph.” She handed him the papers.

  Matt squinted as he examined the words. “You really don’t expect me to write that I’m a sorry idiot in a world of prodigies.”

  Sarah stopped writing and looked over his shoulder.

  “If the shoe fits, Monsieur Barnes,” said Madame.

  “I think the shoe’s on the wrong foot,” he replied. Much to Sarah’s surprise he did shuffle up beside her. He studied the chalk as if it were a worm, then jotted down the lines in enormous block letters that took up half the board.

  “We are not amused,” said the teacher.

  “We rarely are,” he quipped.

  Sarah tensed as she caught Madame’s movement out of the corner of her eye. She’d raised her hand menacingly behind Matt, as if she wanted to swat him like a fly.

  “Lawsuit,” he said calmly.

  “You are a disgrace!” she screamed. “I’m calling your father.”

  “Wait,” said Matt. He snatched the cell phone from her desk. “Here it is.” He smiled.

  Sarah bit her lip. The altercation between the two felt like a twister at her back, swirling with angry force. In exasperation she turned to Matt and said, “Can’t you suck it in just this once?”

  He looked at her curiously. “I suppose,” he said and turned back to the board. He began scratching obediently, in normal size this time. Sarah felt the winds die down, and sighed with relief.

  As they continued their assignment in silence, Madame Leblanc watched every movement. A parade of goose bumps along with the odd prickling sensation travelled all over Sarah’s back. She wouldn’t be surprised if she looked sideways and saw a swarm of insects chewing on Matt. But he kept scribbling away with his chalk, oblivious. After a dreary, excruciating hour, they finished copying their five-page documents and the teacher released them.

  They didn’t speak to each other as they dressed in their winter coats and boots. They pushed the double doors open together. They headed in the same direction. Sarah couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

  “What is your problem, anyway?”

  Matt looked her up and down, his cold gaze unnerving. “No problem. Life’s a circus, most of us are in the sideshow, and then . . . we die.”

  Sarah shook her head in frustration, sending snowflakes careening off her hat in all directions. “You’re unbelievable.”

  Matt wiped the fluff off his face without a crack in his calm, unruffled expression.

  “I get it,” she said. “You’re miserable, so you want everyone else to be, too.” She stared at him until he looked away. “Am I right?”

  Matt shrugged.

  “So join the sorry miserable club. That doesn’t mean you have to make my life any worse than it already is.”

  “Oh, your life is bad, is it?” said Matt, eyeing her expensive parka.

  Sarah winced. She hadn’t failed to notice the cheap coat he wore, or the fraying fabric of his jeans. “Money doesn’t make everything peachy, believe me.”

  “Really?” said Matt. “I suppose your dad beats you.”

  “Are you telling me yours does?”

  “The world famous Dr. Barnes? Oh, come on now. How could he ever do anything wrong?”

  Sarah stopped walking and grabbed Matt by the arm, turning him towards her. “What are you saying, Matt? Are you abused? What?”

  Matt chuckled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “You’d have to see it for yourself.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “Look,” he snapped, wrenching his arm from her grasp. “You can’t help me, all right? Not you, with your nice little family, the minivan, and the politician dad.”

  “I don’t have a minivan,” she said. “And how did you know my dad was a politician?”

  “He’s got the look,” said Matt.

  Sarah’s face flushed. She bared her teeth. “Have you been spying on me?”

  “Why would I do that? It’s not like you’re interesting or anything.”

  “Gosh! You really are a piece of work. I’m trying to help you and you push me away.” She began walking, stamping deep impressions in the snow. Honestly, he wasn’t worth the trouble.

  Matt hung back. “I’m sorry,” he finally called after her. He raced to catch up. “I guess I am a sorry idiot.”

  “Madame Leblanc had you nailed,” she said.

  “But don’t tell me there were any prodigies in that room.” Matt pointed back to the classroom. Madame Leblanc’s large frame was visible through the multiple panes of the window as she dusted off their laborious scribbling with her chalk brush.

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. “What about Chelsea?” she asked.

  “Ch-Chelsea!” Matt choked and sputtered.

  Sarah let out a rip-roaring laugh. “Got ya,” she said.

  “Sure did,” said Matt, heaving a tremendous sigh and then laughing along with her.

  “So what do you say we have a truce?” suggested Sarah, holding out her hand.

  He looked at the proffered hand, pausing. With a slow nod, as if he’d come to a difficult decision, he clasped it firmly and shook. “Agreed.”

  “So?” she said.

  “So what?”

  “Are you going to invite me over?”

  Matt’s eyes bulged in astonishment. “You really are a sucker for punishment.”

  “That bad, eh?”

  “I’ll let you judge for yourself.”

  “Great,” she said, rubbing her mitts together. “And you’ll introduce me to your dad?”

  “I knew there was a catch.”

  “There always is,” said Sarah. “If you want a friend, you’ll have to let me in on all your secrets.”

  “A friend?”

  “That’s what I said. Does it sound that crazy to you?”

  “It just never crossed my mind,” said Matt.

  “Well, it hadn’t crossed my mind either, until just now. But it looks like we could both use one.”

  Matt wrinkled his forehead as he considered her offer. “Okay,” he finally said. “We’ll give it a shot. Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “To meet the infamous Dr. Barnes.”

  “Don’t you mean famous?”

  “Not for a second,” said Matt.