Spoiled Rotten Read online

  Spoiled Rotten

  Dayle Campbell Gaetz

  orac currents

  Copyright © 2005 Dayle Campbell Gaetz

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Gaetz, Dayle, 1947-

  Spoiled rotten / Dayle Campbell Gaetz.

  (Orca currents)

  ISBN 1-55143-474-1

  I. Title. II. Series.

  PS8563.A25317S68 2005 jC813’.54 C2005-904075-0

  Summary: Jessica must trek through bear country to save her stepsister.

  First published in the United States, 2005

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2005929721

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP), the Canada Council for the Arts, and the British Columbia Arts Council.

  Cover design: Lynn O’Rourke

  Cover photography: First Light

  Orca Book Publishers Orca Book Publishers

  PO Box 5626, Stn. B PO Box 468

  Victoria, BC Canada Custer, WA USA

  V8R 6S4 98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  Printed and bound in Canada

  Printed on 50% post-consumer recycled paper,

  processed chlorine free using vegetable, low VOC inks.

  08 07 06 05 • 4 3 2 1

  For Liz,

  an all round ‘good’ person.

  chapter one

  My hiking boots slopped through soft mud. Cedar branches slapped my face and young alder trees brushed against my knees. The trail was so overgrown it looked like no one had used it since the last time we’d been there.

  That was three years ago, before Mom got sick.

  Dad veered off the trail in front of me. He pushed through thick undergrowth toward a rocky cliff. This was Mom’s favorite place in the whole world. It made me feel good just to be here again. At the same time, something inside me felt like crying.

  We climbed up the rocks on all fours. It wasn’t a difficult climb, not so steep we needed ropes, but we had to work. At the top Dad and I stood on a moss-covered rock and looked down. The steep, forested hillside dropped away to a sea as blue as the sky. Dark green islands dotted the calm water. In the distance, the white cone of Mount Baker seemed to hang suspended over low hills.

  “The top of the world,” I whispered.

  That’s what Mom had always called this place.

  Dad nodded. He had been so quiet all morning I knew he had something important to tell me. That’s the way he is. Sometimes he takes forever to get words out of his mouth.

  We settled on the rocks and unpacked our lunch. I gobbled down two sandwiches and bit into an apple. Dad took one bite of his sandwich and stared at the view.

  It was time to help him out. “Did you decide not to marry Patti after all?” I crossed my fingers, hoping he would say yes. Maybe that’s why he wanted to come back here, to Mom’s place, today.

  He looked surprised. “Of course not. Why would I change my mind?”

  I glanced around, at the trees, the mountain, our hiking boots. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because she’s not your type?”

  “Jessica, I love Patti, that’s not going to change.”

  Ouch, that hurt. “But you did tell her we don’t want to spend our vacation on her stupid boat?”

  “Jess, look, I’m sorry but…”

  “I don’t believe this! You want to go, don’t you? What about our hiking trip?” Tears stung my eyes as I turned away. How could he do this to me?

  “I thought it would be fun to try something different for a change. We can go hiking another time.”

  So this was his big news? The hiking trip we had planned all year was not going to happen? Too angry to sit still, I leapt up and tossed my apple at him. It bounced off his chest. “I’m not going with you!” I shouted.

  Dad stood up too, his face red with anger. “Now you listen to me, Jessica! I’m your father and I say you’re coming. Like it or not.”

  “How could I possibly like it?” I asked coolly. It’s funny how that worked. The angrier my father got the calmer I felt inside. And the more determined.

  He looked at me and daggers shot from his eyes. It hurt almost like real daggers, but I pretended not to care. He threw his arms in the air and took a step toward me. “I don’t understand,” he said. “We had such a good time last year.” He paused and his eyes searched my face. The daggers were replaced with a pleading that twisted at my heart. “Didn’t we?” he asked softly.

  I leaned my head back and peered down my nose at him. The hard angry line of his jaw softened and his mouth hung open. Dad didn’t look so scary now. He looked sad. I knew I could hurt him then, all I had to do was say no.

  I stared over his shoulder, away from his face. If I thought about last summer I would turn into mush. We were so close then. My dad had treated me like an equal, even though I had been only thirteen. And he never expected less of me because I was a girl. That was important to me.

  “Didn’t you enjoy our trip last summer?” he asked weakly.

  “Yeah.” I had to admit, “It was fun.”

  I shut the memories behind a black wall in my mind. I couldn’t afford to think about the good times because that would make me weak.

  “Then what’s so different about this year?”

  I couldn’t believe he would ask such a stupid question.

  “Everything!” I shouted. I didn’t mean to shout, but there was something about his face that made anger well up inside me.

  “Last year…” I paused and lowered my voice. “Last year there was just you and me, a beat-up canoe and two backpacks.”

  I turned my back and stared down at the treetops. I could not let him see my watery eyes. “This year there’s you, me, your precious Patti and her snotty little daughter.” I shuddered just thinking about Amy. It was hard to believe she was almost twelve. Amy was worse than the worst nerd in my entire school. She had “perfect little angel” written all over her. In short, she was disgusting.

  “Worse than that, we’ll all be jammed together on their stupid boat.”

  I could tell my dad was getting angry again. And that was good. I knew how to deal with his anger. It was the deep, hurting sadness I couldn’t handle.

  He put his hands on my shoulders and twirled me around to face him. He waved a finger in front of my eyes, so close I blinked. “Don’t you ever speak that way about your stepmother and stepsister again.”

  “They aren’t my step-anything.”

  “They will be by next week. And you’re going to have to get used to that.”

  I glared at him. “Isn’t it bad enough that you caved in to what Patti wants? How could you tell me here, in Mom’s place?”

  His face went pale; he stepped back.

  I picked up my pack and started toward the cliff.

  “Jessica!” he called. “Wait for me. Don’t be so stupid!”

  I wasn’t stupid, no matter what he said. I stopped to put my backpack on properly and turned around to climb down the rock face.

  My father needed to gather up our stuff, so he was a few minutes behind. When I reached the bottom, I didn’t wait. I started for the trail. I needed to get away from him.

  I pushed through bushes that came up to my waist. My father’s words rang in my head: You’re going to have to get used to that. But I didn’t want
to.

  I didn’t want things to change. Until today I had been sure my father would come to his senses. I thought he would realize how wrong Patti was for him. I never thought he would cancel our trip together.

  I reached the trail and started down. Anger made me walk fast.

  If Dad couldn’t see it, why didn’t Patti? Why did she want to marry him anyway? They had nothing in common. He liked to paddle a canoe on a quiet lake. She liked a big noisy boat with a smelly engine that polluted the ocean.

  Her first husband had been a professor at the University of Victoria. A brainy guy, big time educated. Nice man, until he ran off with a younger woman. Patti hadn’t seen him in a year.

  Patti was an accountant—a neat clean office-type. So why would she marry a hardworking mechanic who comes home with grease under his fingernails? More to the point: How could she do this to me? Didn’t she know I would always love my mother? Didn’t she realize Dad still loved Mom too? That would never change. There was no room in our lives for Patti, and sooner or later my dad was going to figure it out.

  I really hoped it would be sooner.

  chapter two

  As his wedding day got closer and closer I watched my father, hoping he would come to his senses. I knew the marriage would be a disaster, so how come he couldn’t figure it out?

  I tried to help him along by acting super grumpy. But he didn’t notice. So I stopped talking to him. He didn’t notice that either. Then I got to thinking that he might like it when I didn’t talk, so I started talking all the time, yak-king about anything I could think of.

  Nothing worked. He walked around the house with a stupid grin on his face like he’d won the lottery or something. It was disgusting.

  The wedding day arrived, sunny and warm. It should have been raining. They got married in the chapel at the Victoria hospital where Patti used to work. After her husband ran away, Patti had needed a change so she moved to Salt Spring Island to take a job in our hospital. If only her car hadn’t broken down. If only Dad hadn’t fixed it for her. If only Mom were here.

  Sara didn’t want to come to the wedding, but I talked her into it. We dressed in our favorite outfits, long cotton skirts and peasant blouses with beaded bracelets. Long earrings dangled from our ears. We made the jewelry ourselves from beads and seashells and feathers. We looked great.

  I wanted to sit at the back of the chapel, but they made us sit at the front with the groom’s family. That consisted of Sara and me. And you couldn’t really call Sara family, even though she was my best friend. I felt like we were on stage with everyone watching us.

  The bride’s side was bursting with family—a horde of them in fancy dresses and suits. They sparkled with gold and diamonds.

  I stared at the back of my dad’s head and concentrated on sending him a message: Hey, Dad! It isn’t too late; you can still get out of it!

  “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the minister asked.

  I held my breath. Last chance, Dad. Just say no.

  I waited, closed my eyes. Please!

  “I do,” he said, loud and clear.

  At the reception Sara and I stood beside a table loaded with tiny sandwiches cut into triangles, stacks of cheese, grapes, pickles, crackers, dips and fancy little cakes.

  “Mmm, this is so good!” Sara said, stuffing her face. “Why don’t you try some?” She licked chocolate from her fingers.

  “I’m not hungry,” I told her. “How could anyone eat at a time like this?”

  “Do you really hate her that much?” Sara picked up a turkey sandwich.

  “Who? Patti?” I shook my head. “I don’t hate her, not exactly. I mean I kind of feel sorry for her in a way. First her husband leaves her, which is bad enough, but look what he left behind.”

  We both looked over at Amy. She sat with her grandmother and was wearing a tacky pink dress with a matching ribbon stuck in her long, blonde hair. Amy saw me, and a little smile crept over her face. I rolled my eyes and turned away.

  “Can you imagine living in the same house with her?”

  Sara groaned. “But at least there’s only one of her. Try living with my sister and brothers and see how long you survive.”

  Dad and Patti came over. He looked me up and down and shook his head like he was embarrassed. “My daughter, the born-again hippie,” he said.

  Patti was all gushy and smiley in her pale blue suit. Her blonde hair was tucked into a blue hat that looked like an upside down cookie tin. She laughed. “I think they look nice,” she said and kissed me on the cheek.

  Yuck. I hadn’t seen that coming.

  “I can hardly wait for our boat trip this summer,” she said. “I know we’ll get to be such good friends.”

  I looked up at my dad. But he was watching Patti with that stupid grin on his face. Some lottery.

  After the wedding I had exactly one week left to enjoy my life. I stayed at Sara’s place while Dad and his charming bride went off on their honeymoon. Now there’s something I never want to think about.

  “If you don’t hate Patti, how come you’re so depressed?” Sara asked me one evening. We were sitting in her room with the door locked so her little brother and sister couldn’t get in to bug us. As usual, the baby was screaming. Their house was so tiny it was hard to get away from all the noise those little kids made.

  “I don’t know,” I tried to explain. “See, Patti was okay as a friend. After Dad met her she sometimes went for walks with me and we’d talk about…” I paused and took a deep breath. “You know, about things.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know. Things my dad would never understand.”

  Sara nodded.

  By the end of that week I was actually looking forward to Dad and Patti getting home. I figured one stuck-up eleven-year-old had to be better than Sara’s madhouse.

  Man, was I wrong!

  The first thing Amy did was try to take over my room.

  “Why should she have the biggest room just because she was here first?” Amy whined. She stood in the hall with a stack of blankets in her arms and a huge scowl on her face.

  Her mother was bent over a box of dishes in the kitchen. “Whine all you like,” she said. “But I won’t let you kick Jessica out of her bedroom. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Oh, fine!” Amy tossed the blankets on the floor. “So I get stuck with a room the size of a closet! How am I supposed to move around in there with all my stuff?”

  “I don’t know, Amy,” her mother said. “If you can’t manage we could give your desk to Jessica. I’m sure she could use it for her artwork.”

  Amy’s jaw dropped. “I’ll manage.” She picked up the blankets and stomped off to her room.

  There were only two weeks left until the big summer vacation, and Dad still hadn’t told his dear wife that I wasn’t going. It seemed to have slipped his mind. He kept talking about how much fun we were all going to have.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I was beginning to weaken. I couldn’t find any place to stay—one week at Sara’s place had cured me of ever wanting to stay there again. And Dad would never let me stay home alone.

  Then there was the problem of Amy. If Amy had three weeks to brainwash Dad and Patti, who knew what she might accomplish? They could come home thinking she was the best daughter in the entire world. And I was just the opposite.

  I refused to go down without a fight. That night at dinner I took a deep breath and jumped in. “Did Dad tell you I’m not going on the boat trip?”

  Everyone stopped eating and stared at me.

  “What do you mean?” Patti asked. “I thought you were looking forward to it.”

  I shook my head, “I don’t like boats.”

  “But, your dad told me what a wonderful time you had last year on your canoe trip.”

  I gave her the look. Eyes hard, jaw clenched, I rolled my eyes up toward the ceiling. “Key word,” I said, “canoe. You paddle a canoe and you sleep under the stars. You
are not cooped up in a big boat with a noisy stinky engine that pollutes the water everywhere you go.”

  Patti looked crushed. She put her fork down. “Well, I don’t know what to say. You know, I thought about selling the boat this summer; it was my husband who really liked boating anyway. But then your dad told me how much you would enjoy going up to Desolation Sound.”

  I turned the look on my father.

  “I thought it would be good for us,” he said, “as a family.”

  “If we sell Fanta-sea,” Patti suggested, “we could use the money to take a trip we all planned together.”

  “Fanta-sea?” I said. “That’s the boat’s name? You’ve got to be kidding.” My voice was lost in Amy’s wail.

  “No-oo. You can’t sell Fanta-sea just because of her!” Amy had a whole different look from mine. Her bottom lip quivered, and big fat tears rolled down her face.

  My father’s eyes shot daggers again. “How can you be so selfish, Jessica? The three of us are all excited about going cruising to one of the most beautiful places in the world. And you want to ruin it for everyone.”

  I looked from his anger, to Patti’s hurt, to Amy’s tears and knew I was beat. But I didn’t need to be happy about it. “Crap!” I shouted and pushed my chair back.

  “Watch your language,” Dad said.

  I stood up. “If I go, you can’t make me enjoy it!”

  I turned and stomped out of the room.

  Tears, one. The look, zero.

  chapter three

  Steering a boat is not like driving a car. In a car you pull over, hit the brakes and stop. Simple. Boats don’t have brakes. You need to take the current and the wind into account when you pull up to a dock. So, I had to hand it to Patti: She did a good job of steering the boat up to the gas dock at Powell River.

  It was our third day out, and Dad sat beside her on the command bridge, watching, so he could learn what to do. I stood on deck, clutching the bow rope, ready to jump. Amy had disappeared. She was probably reading. Amy was always reading.

  We were about two meters from the dock, coming in dead slow. Patti shifted the engine to neutral and let the boat drift in. I watched the gap narrow. My bare toes curled over the wood trim. I waited for the right moment.