Inukshuk by Gregory Spatz Read Free Book Online Page B

by the devil winds .”
    Her breath ruffled into the phone. A laugh? Not a laugh. “Jeremy never came home.”
    â€œOh.” Now he was maneuvering into traffic on the main road, Tim Hortons flashing by. Blockbuster, its formerly towering snowbanks shrunken to a meager misshapen few humps. The ridiculous new condo warrens. “Is that . . . that’s unusual for him, I guess? Of course it is.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t be if I could track him down anywhere, but I haven’t been able to. His girlfriend doesn’t know. She never saw him after school. Alas, no one seems to have . . . a clue where he went. Ordinarily, he’d be in touch, call or text. Late after school, going to the Okotoks mall, busy with Belinda, whatever. I suspect he’s gone to Davis . . . his dad, but I haven’t been able to raise anyone there, either. Unsurprisingly.”
    â€œHe’ll turn up.”
    â€œYes. Of course. Dead or alive is the question.”
    â€œI’m not touching that one.”
    â€œNo, I’m sure he’s fine.” She sighed wearily. “It’s just weird. He hasn’t done this before, ever. . . . now it’s going on six o’clock, and tomorrow he’s got practice.”
    Franklin checked his watch. 5:27. Drove a ways in silence. There were certain things he could (and probably should) ask now—where was Rick, why was he getting drawn into this drama instead of Rick, how had this sudden collusion between them sprung up again—but to ask such questions would be to incite an impeding logic, when all he really wanted right now was for her to keep breathing (distraught, worried, whatever) close, in his ear, as he made his way home. He didn’t want to ask her why it was so, why she was inviting him to share her concern.
    â€œSo . . . OK. Was he OK with Legere’s disciplining? Did he mention anything to you about it after?”
    â€œWe weren’t talking.”
    â€œNot at all?”

    â€œI’d say he was a little disappointed, if I had to guess. But . . . I don’t know. No, we didn’t talk. I don’t fight his battles for him. I told you.”
    â€œYes. You said that.”
    â€œI can’t anymore. Not for him or anyone. It’s a road that goes nowhere.”
    â€œYes.”
    She made a growling, exasperated noise. Laughed. “Fucking kid.”
    â€œHe’s all right.”
    â€œProbably having a hamburger somewhere or shooting pixels at imaginary aliens at some friend’s house or at his dad’s, according to a preapproved plan which I seem to have completely and inconveniently forgotten about.”
    â€œFor sure.”
    â€œAnyway, I thought you might have seen him around. . . .”
    â€œSorry, no.”
    â€œI had this crazy thought maybe he would have sought you out to make good and patch things up, but . . .”
    â€œSorry, no . . . like I said.” Sorry . He’d inflected the word Canadian-style almost before he could notice it to stop himself; some form of subconscious, unconscious mockery? Sabotage? Desire for inclusion? Hard o sound. Doubted she’d even notice. “Jeremy’s not . . . not a kid I’ve ever had anything much to do with, actually, until today. If he was on the debate team, now, maybe. Otherwise”—he tried to lighten his voice a bit, speed it up—“I might’ve put it together long ago, you and him, you know. Turner Valley. Actually, though, aside from that, I don’t really know how I would’ve figured it out. But I might have. Anyway, I had no idea. You have to realize that. No idea at all. Definitely, I wouldn’t have grabbed him had I known.”
    â€œHe’ll show up.”
    â€œYes, of course he will.”
    â€œI should go now.”
    â€œCall as soon as you know anything?”
    Silence on the other end of the line.
    â€œI didn’t say that. Call if you want. Whenever you have a