Mind Gap Read online

  MIND GAP

  MIND GAP

  Marina Cohen

  DUNDURN PRESS

  TORONTO

  Copyright © Marina Cohen, 2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

  Project Editor: Michael Carroll

  Copy Editor: Cheryl Hawley

  Design: Jesse Hooper

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Cohen, Marina

  Mind gap / by Marina Cohen.

  Issued also in an electronic format.

  ISBN 978-1-55488-801-6

  I. Title.

  PS8605.O378M56 2011 jC813’.6 C2010-902445-1

  We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

  Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

  J. Kirk Howard, President

  Printed and bound in Canada.

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  For Martha

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to send a heartfelt thank-you to the following people: to readers, Dr. David Jenkinson, Mac Martin, Nora Tuchagues, Dave Benner, and 7B; to Phil Perlmutter for assisting me with legal terminology and Kevin Klayman for sharing his “street” knowledge; to my husband, Michael Cohen, for his love and support; to my agent, Margaret Hart; and to the amazing staff at Dundurn Press, including president and publisher Kirk Howard, associate publisher and editorial director Michael Carroll, and my editor, Cheryl Hawley.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “In or out?”

  Jake shaded his cards with his left hand. He peeled up the corners with his right. Two of clubs. Ace of spades. He glanced at the cafeteria table. Face up, in a neat row, lay the seven of diamonds, the two of hearts, and the jack of clubs. Deuces, he thought. Story of my life.

  “Come on, man — in or out?”

  Over the hum of gossip, the shuffling of feet, and the grinding of chairs, Jake heard a twinge in Cole’s voice. He looked up, and their eyes locked for a second. Jake could read his best friend like a cheap magazine. Cole had a big mouth, but he got nervous quickly. He was bluffing.

  “In,” said Jake, tossing his second dollar into the pile. He shifted his gaze to the dealer.

  Damon was more difficult to read. From his greasy hair to the tattoo of a crown dripping blood emblazoned across his knuckles, all the way down to his brand-new Nikes, the guy was stone cold.

  Damon threw a buck into the pile. He kept his grey eyes trained on Jake as he slowly flipped over another card and placed it next to the jack. Queen of clubs.

  Cole checked and began chewing his lip.

  Too obvious, thought Jake, battling the urge to smile. He pushed a stack of four quarters into the growing mound. Jake had a lousy hand, but at this point he had nothing left to lose.

  Damon answered.

  Cole shook his head and swore. He threw down his cards and began shovelling fries into his mouth. Cole seemed to take his losses much harder these days.

  Damon flipped over the final card, dragging Jake’s attention back to the game — ace of diamonds.

  Two pair, thought Jake, ace high. Nice.

  Jake willed his pulse to slow. His mouth was a thin line. He ran a hand through his thick hair. Then he picked up his last stack of coins and tossed them casually into the heap. Nine bucks. Ten, if Damon continued. Not what you’d call a fortune, but hey, it was better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Jake slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans. He shifted his cellphone. Stray nickels and dimes danced between his fingers. If he lost this hand, he could kiss next week’s lunches goodbye. Like he’d done this week. And last.

  “Call,” said Damon. He placed his two cards onto the pile of money as though he were claiming it. He had a pair of aces.

  Jake let out his breath. The deuces came in handy, after all. He turned his cards over one by one. Jake watched Damon’s eyes darken. Suddenly, they reminded Jake of shark eyes — cold and lifeless. Jake stretched out his arms to rake in his winnings.

  “Why, gentlemen,” said a deep voice, “you wouldn’t happen to be partaking in the quite illegal and most suspendable act of gambling, would you?”

  Jake peered over his shoulder at the towering six-foot-six figure of his English teacher, Mr. Dean.

  “At the very least it would mean a week’s worth of detentions for each of you.”

  Cole could wriggle his way out of a clogged pipe. Trouble was, his mouth was quicker than his brain. “Gambling? Us? Course not, sir. We’re just having an enjoyable game of Fish. And this money here?” He jerked his chin toward the pile. “Why, it just happens to be sitting on the table doing nothing.” He sat back looking pretty proud of himself.

  “Nothing?” Mr. Dean frowned. “Hmm, I see.” He scratched his chin, then volleyed glances from Damon to Cole, finally settling on Jake. “Well, if this money is just doing nothing, then I’m sure you gentlemen wouldn’t mind if I donate it to the Salvation Army where it can do something?”

  Jake rolled his eyes and scowled, but kept his mouth shut.

  Mr. Dean patted Jake on the shoulder. “Life is an endless series of choices, Mr. MacRae.” He leaned in, scooped up the loot, and strolled off, humming “Amazing Grace.”

  Jake gave Cole a shove. “You idiot.”

  “What’d I do?”

  “This money just happens to be sitting here doing nothing …” Jake mocked. “Couldn’t you have come up with something better?”

  “I didn’t hear anything brilliant shooting out of your mouth. And I guess you’d have wanted a pile of detentions instead?”

  Jake picked up his cards and threw them across the table.

  Cole sneered. “Think of it as bail.”

  Damon was leaning back in his chair. “Forget it. It’s chump change. Let’s talk real business.”

  Business. Right. Jake had avoided thinking about it all day. He reached over and grabbed a few fries from Cole’s plate. They were cold and tasted like cardboard.

  “My brother says you guys have been hanging around the coffee shop long enough. He wants you to do a favour for him.”

  Damon’s brother, Vlad, was what you’d call king of the 5 King Tribe. He was the kind of guy you did not want to disappoint.

  “We’re in,” said Cole all too eagerly. He glanced at Jake, but Jake didn’t say a word.

  “Good,” said Damon. “Vlad will be happy.”

  “So, um, what exactly does he want us to do?” asked Jake
.

  Damon was eyeing him as if they were playing poker again. Only this time Jake felt his cheeks flush.

  “Meet at the coffee shop at one o’clock on Sunday. Pick up a package and take it to where Vlad tells you. A simple delivery.”

  Simple, thought Jake. But what if simple gets complicated?

  “Delivery,” said Cole. “Sure.” He flashed Jake another look. This one said: Be cool.

  The bell rang, ending second lunch. Damon grabbed the cards, shoved them into his pocket, and swaggered off into the stream of students heading toward their lockers. “Sunday,” he called over his shoulder. He didn’t look back.

  “What’s your problem?” asked Cole once Damon had disappeared. “Don’t you get it? When Vlad asks you to do something, you do it.”

  Jake didn’t respond. His thoughts were doing backflips.

  “It’s just a delivery,” said Cole. “Like Damon said — simple.”

  “Simple,” echoed Jake. He was nodding, but his expression betrayed his uncertainty.

  Cole sighed. “Make up your mind, man — in or out …?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The October sky looked like an art experiment gone wrong. Blotches of red, orange, and purple streaked the deepening blue as the sun hovered low in the horizon. It was getting dark earlier. A bitter wind raced down the street, scattering litter and leaves. It sliced through Jake’s grey hoodie, chilling him to the bone. He bent his head and hugged his chest. He was late and he hadn’t called. His mom was going to go off like a firecracker.

  Jake slipped inside the building. While he waited for the elevator, he thought up excuses.

  Team tryouts? Nah. She’d never buy it.

  Detention? Sure. But then he’d catch it just the same.

  Extra help? Jake smiled — even he wouldn’t believe that.

  The elevator doors opened, and Jake stepped inside. He pressed number seven and felt the old motor kick in as the traction steel ropes began hauling him upward. Then somewhere between the third and fifth floors the elevator ground to a halt and the lights went out. In the ten years he’d lived in the building this had never happened.

  Jake stood for a moment, searching the darkness. It was thick and complete. The tiny space seemed to be drawing in on him, getting hotter by the second and leaking oxygen. Jake’s pulse quickened. Sweat skittered across his forehead. He reached out, fumbling for the emergency button. Then a voice — more like a whisper of wind — blew past his right ear.

  Last stop.

  Jake spun round. He stepped backward until he was against the metal doors. Who had said that? But before his brain could calculate possibilities the lights went on, the air cooled, and the elevator jolted upward. Jake was standing alone. His eyes swept the ceiling and floor. A wad of gum. A cigarette butt. A chocolate-bar wrapper. He mopped his forehead and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Must have been his imagination.

  Exiting the elevator, Jake headed down the hallway. There was barely enough time to turn the key before the door to his apartment flew open.

  “Where have you been? How many times do I have to tell you to call?”

  The fireworks display began.

  “Do you ever listen to a word I say? I feel like I’m banging my head against a wall.”

  Jake stood there, letting his mother finish her rant. There was no point in stopping her. Once she got going, she’d have to say it all. If he interrupted, her lecture would never end. He’d learned that the hard way.

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  “It was off.”

  “Perfect. Why do I bother paying for that thing?” She leaned in closer and sniffed. “Have you been drinking again?”

  “Huh? No.” Jake shrugged and did his best to look indignant. Like it had never happened before.

  Jake’s mother’s stringy blond hair was showing an inch of dark roots. The corners of her eyes were ploughed like fields. She was skinny. Too skinny. She wore jeans that were out of style and T-shirts that were too big. She looked way older than thirty-four.

  “I’ll bet you were hanging around with Cole.” She said his name as if it were some kind of disease. “I don’t trust him. He’s a cheap thug. He’s been getting you into trouble ever since you met him.”

  Just then Drew poked his head round the corner. He mimicked their mother, shaking his head, gesturing, and moving his mouth exaggeratedly. It made Jake smile.

  “Oh, I suppose you think I’m funny now. Some kinda joke. Well, let’s see if you think it’s funny when I …”

  “No, Mom,” said Drew, stepping into the hallway. “He’s not laughing at you … it was me …”

  “Save it, Drew. You’re always trying to rescue your brother. But I got news for you — he isn’t the one who needs rescuing …” She said this last bit to herself as if neither of them would understand it, anyway.

  She turned back to Jake and whispered, “He thinks you’re some great hero. He’d jump off a bridge if you asked him.” She glared at Jake for a second longer, then her eyes softened and she reached out and hugged him. She pushed away and shook her head. With disappointment weighing her face, she grabbed her pack of cigarettes from the hall table and walked toward the balcony. “Dinner’s in the kitchen. It’s cold.”

  Jake dropped his backpack by the door, kicked off his shoes, and strolled into the living room. “Get out the Xbox. I’m gonna kick your butt in Karate Chaos.” He plunked himself onto the sofa. Jake was still a bit edgy from the elevator experience and figured playing a game or two would calm his nerves. The Xbox was an old hand-me-down. He wished they had one of those new high-tech systems. If only his luck would change, then he’d be able to earn back some of his losses and buy one.

  “You wanna piece ’a me?” said Drew, grinning. He got out the controllers and turned on the TV. “So how’d it go today? Did you win?”

  The money. Jake cleared his throat. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I won, but …”

  “Cool! So where’s my money?”

  Jake took a deep breath. His brother’s eyes were so wide and happy that Jake had to look away. “Well, thing is … well, this teacher came and, well … he kinda confiscated the cash.” Jake glanced at his brother. The smile remained on his face, but the light in his eyes had dimmed.

  “Confiscated?”

  Jake paused. “He took it.”

  The corners of Drew’s mouth quivered, but he kept on smiling.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jake lay on his bed, his eyes closed, his iPod cranked to the max. Drew was watching his favourite reality show. Jake loved his time alone — and in the one-bedroom apartment there was never enough of it. Once nine o’clock rolled around, Drew would come bouncing into the bedroom, and Jake would no longer have the space to himself. He’d have to listen to his ten-year-old brother yak on and on until Drew finally passed out. Jake glanced at his alarm clock. Fifteen more minutes of peace.

  As bass bludgeoned his ears, Jake thought about the 5 King Tribe. How cool would it be to be a real member? Guys to watch his back. Security. Belonging. Respect. Power. But there was other stuff, too. Stuff that worried Jake.

  His phone vibrated. He dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled it out. It was Cole. Jake shut off his iPod. “What do you want?”

  “Nice greeting.”

  “I’m bagged, man. What’s up?”

  “Flash party.”

  Jake sat up. The rusty bed frame creaked. “Party? Where?”

  “No idea.”

  Cole was one of those guys who dragged everything out, like a cat playing with a mouse before he ate it.

  “That’s stupid. How can you not know where?”

  “It’s a flash party. Could be anywhere. At a house. In an alley. In a barn …”

  Jake sighed. “Oka
y. So how does it work?”

  “You’ll get a text later tonight. It’ll tell everyone where to meet. You won’t know where until the last minute. What do you think? You in?”

  In. Out. In. Out. Jake’s thoughts were spinning again. “I dunno.”

  “Come on,” Cole whined. He paused, then pulled out his ace in the hole. “Shelly might be there.”

  “Shelly? You sure?”

  “I can’t guarantee she’ll show, but she’ll get the text.”

  Jake stood up. He walked over to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. His mother was sitting beside Drew on the sofa. “What time?”

  “Late,” Cole said. “So?”

  Jake watched his mom put her arm around his little brother. Drew was the perfect son. He did well in school. Never got into trouble. Jake and his brother were like night and day. Jake couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble. His mother would skin him alive if he snuck out again. She caught him once and nearly kicked him out. She gave him the silent treatment for an entire week. Wouldn’t say a single word to him, as if he didn’t exist.

  “I dunno …”

  Cole sighed dramatically. “Jake … Jake … this is so you. You say you wanna be cool. You say you wanna hook up with Shelly. Then you get a chance and you chicken out. You’re such a loser.”

  Cole’s words stung. “Watch your mouth.”

  “Whatever,” said Cole. “You’ll get the text. It’s up to you.”

  Jake stared at his phone for a second, then pressed end.

  Another decision. Why couldn’t life be simple? No problems. No decisions. Jake suddenly wished he was a wild animal. A wolf. A lone wolf, sitting pretty at the top of the food chain, with nothing and no one to worry about. Except maybe his next meal. Or the odd hunter. Or a possible run-in with an angry bear. And then there was the deterioration of his natural habitat …

  Okay, so life sucks even for wolves, he thought.

  Anyway, he’d made up his mind. Shelly or no Shelly, he was tired. He wasn’t going to any stupid flash party.