Bone Deep. Gina McMurchy-Barber
see if you can take diving lessons too?” He stared at me for a few moments with a blank look and then his face suddenly lit up.
“That’s a brilliant idea. I always imagined myself a Jacques Cousteau kind of guy.”
“You know about him?”
“What, Cousteau? Well, duh. He’s only like the father of scuba diving and underwater exploration.”
“Yup, good old Jack.”
“Jacques, you mean.”
“Right. So anyway, are you sure your mom will let you?”
“Peggy, one of the few benefits of having divorced parents is when one says no, you can almost always count on the other saying yes.”
“Great. I’m going to sign up after school at the Reef Dive Shop.”
“I thought you were doing something with your Great Aunt Beatrix today.” Shoot, I’d forgotten about that.
“Hey, TB. Help me out here. Phone my house and tell my aunt that you need me to come over so we can get started on that important school project that’s due next Friday.”
“What important school project?” he said with panic in his eyes.
“There is no project dough-head. I just want you to say that so when I walk in the house and Aunt Beatrix gives me your message she won’t think anything when I tell her I can’t spend time with her today.”
“Sorry, Peggy. I don’t like lying — especially to adults. From my experience I always get caught or end up making matters worse. You’ll have to get out of this one on your own.” If he hadn’t been my best friend I’d have given him a raspberry somewhere embarrassing.
When I got home, there she was — Queen Bee-atrix — in her hat and waiting to go out. “Peggy, you’re slouching, stand up straight, dear.” I did everything to keep myself from groaning out loud. “So, where shall we wander today, dear? Mr. Grimbal suggested we take a stroll through Heron Park and have a look at the stone carvings — petroglyphs, I think he called them. It sounds delightfully primitive.” I sighed dramatically. “What? Doesn’t that sound like a good plan to you?”
“Oh, it’s not that, Aunt Beatrix. I definitely want to go see the petroglyphs with you. I’m just trying to figure out how I can do that and get my assignment done for school.”
“Assignment for school?”
“Yah, my friend TB and I have to make a diorama by tomorrow of Captain Vancouver’s voyage along the Pacific Coast.” There it was again, the perfect lie rolling effortlessly off my tongue. “Oh well, never mind, I’ll just call TB and tell him I can’t do it …”
“You’ll do no such thing. Getting homework assignments completed is absolutely paramount, Peggy. If there is anything I can teach you, it’s to take your work seriously and live up to your commitments. Now you get to it right now, do you hear young lady?” I nodded as though I was completely disappointed and about to object.
It didn’t take me long to scoot out the door, hop on my bike, and make my way towards the dive shop. I had mom sign the permission sheet that morning and write out a cheque to pay for the lessons. I pedalled as fast I could up the steep hill towards Ocean Park. I was hot when I got there but the moment I walked inside the dive shop I got goose bumps. Dangling from hooks were wet suits, masks, snorkels, and other gear. There was a guy there trying on flippers too.
“Man, these are perfect. I’m going to whiz around like a dolphin in these,” he said to the clerk. Just then she caught sight of me.
“Here to sign up for lessons?”
I nodded and held out the form and cheque.
“Great, I’ll just add your name to our list. We have a new set of lessons starting next week. But if you’re eager you can start tomorrow — we still have a few spots open in our four o’clock class.” My heart leapt.
“The sooner the better,” I sang out. “Put my name on the list for sure.” Not only was I going to start scuba diving lessons in less than twenty-four hours, I had the perfect excuse for no longer being able to spend time entertaining Aunt Beatrix after school.
When I rode into the yard I could tell it was nearly dinnertime from all the clanging going on in the kitchen. Uncle Stewart was watering the plants.
“Hi Uncle Stu, what’s up?”
“Oh, your Aunt Margaret for one thing,” he whispered. “She’s wound up tight as a top. Sure would’ve helped if you’d taken Aunt Beatrix out.”
“But I had to —” I started to explain, but he gave me the hush signal.
“Save it, Pegs. I’m just saying it would have been helpful.” I had a brief moment of feeling guilty.
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