Return of the Trickster by Eden Robinson (inspirational books to read .TXT) 📕

I can’t just leave. It’s my fault everyone’s in danger.

Well, bring them.

Even Mom? And Gran?

God, you’re a headache. Yes. Bring all your psychos. Even the damn otters.

I don’t have Chuck’s phone number, Jared thought.

Duh. Go mind to mind. Like we’re doing now.

We don’t have that kind of relationship.

Fine. Give me a minute.

The raven nestled on the branch, tucking its beak beneath a wing. Wee’git twitched. Jared wanted to know where his mother was. He wanted to know if she was okay.

Chuck’s coming with a minibus in the morning, Wee’git thought. Good luck talking everyone into going with you.

Okay, Jared thought. Thank you.

Just get back in your damn body.

—

“Maybe you can sell it as a retreat,” Sarah whispered. “An intervention but, like, you’re inviting everyone to talk things out in a mansion in Whistler. Or just tell them David’s been seen in the neighbourhood and you need to get everyone out of the way until he’s arrested.”

They sat together on her daybed lit by the bright-blue light from her laptop. She’d taken the whole thing in stride in a way that Jared was getting used to. She seemed stoked to meet a Wild Man of the Woods, especially a vegan one, and had put steel-cut oats, coconut milk and apples in the slow cooker. The combined smell that wafted through the apartment was like a wet paper bag mixed with the tart sweetness of Granny Smiths. Jared felt things shifting, a disturbance in the Force, so to speak, a planets-being-exploded-by-Death-Star level of disturbance.

Sarah’s phone pinged and she glanced at it. “Not your mom.”

MOM, Jared thought, broadcasting as loud as he could. ANSWER ME.

“Ow,” Sarah said, clutching her head. “You moron, she’s trying to be stealthy.”

He wanted his mother to answer him, wanted her here, with him. He even wanted Richie. He wanted not to feel as panicked as a toddler lost in the mall.

“Have you heard from the fireflies?” Sarah said.

“No,” Jared said.

“Fuckers,” she muttered.

“They used me to get Georgina to another universe to keep her away from you,” Jared said. “Now they’re worried about interfering again in a universe that isn’t theirs.”

“Screw their Prime Directive crap,” Sarah said. “We need help and we need it now.”

They both paused as Granny Nita’s snore reached a chainsaw level of decibels then went silent. After a long, sleep-apnea pause, she settled into a quieter rumble.

“Okay,” Sarah said. “I’m done in. Do you want the daybed or the couch?”

“I’m not taking your bed.”

“Your mom can take care of herself, Jared. Justice is with Mave. Neeka’s at Hank’s. Your gran is here. I’m here. You can’t do anything else tonight.”

“Okay,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

He stood and adjusted the room dividers to give Sarah some privacy. He considered shutting off the lamp, but didn’t. Justice laughed at something and he heard Mave shushing her. He tossed the throw pillows off the couch and lay down, clutching his phone to his chest. It buzzed.

RSVPing a hard fucking no for your breakfast shit show, Kota had texted.

Please, Jared texted back. Please, Kota.

Is your gran going to be there?

Jared bit his lip. Maybe.

Fuck right off and stay fucked.

Please.

Nite.

Maybe he could get Hank to work on Kota. Maybe he could sic Neeka on him. Maybe Kota wasn’t even on the hit list and Jared was just dragging him into danger. It was hard to know, hard to guess, but he’d rather have Kota in Whistler with them instead of being a “la-di-da-ing soft target,” as his mother would say.

Holy God, if there was ever a moment he needed to not drink, this was it. This was literally the there’s-no-problem-that-drinking-can’t-make-worse of all problems. But what he craved was beer and then a bong. Anything to take down the anxiety that made it hard to breathe, hard to lie down, hard to resist pacing. Jared told himself he just had to make it through this moment. And then the next. And then the next.

A bright shape darted by the front window—the pale old sorcerer. Tentacles followed, whipping excitedly. Jared hopped up and went to the window in time to see Bob the Octopus trailing the sorcerer, who noticed Jared watching and skittered down the apartment wall out of sight.

26

GUESS WHO’S COMING TO BREAKFAST

The grey sky hid the tops of the mountains. A cool, lazy breeze stirred the last brittle brown leaves clinging to the trees lining Graveley Street as Sarah and Jared dragged the red iron patio table in from the balcony. Sarah had the right idea with her black hoodie and jeans, Jared thought. A sweater wouldn’t hurt.

Mave shouted at them to leave the balcony door open. Her freshly burnt batch of bacon had filled the apartment with sweet, acrid smoke. After they positioned the patio table in the living room, Justice wiped it down, careful not to get any grime on her shiny peach dress and matching furry slippers, and threw a tablecloth over it. Granny Nita was slumped in the recliner, covered with a faded quilt. It was hard to not feel guilty when she was so weak from helping him. Justice asked her if she wanted more tea, but she shook her head and Justice went back to the kitchen. Sarah and Jared dragged in the iron patio chairs from the balcony.

Neeka and Hank hello’d as they arrived holding hands. Hank wore sweats for his day off and Neeka was in her yoga gear, her hair tightly braided.

“Witch,” Neeka greeted Granny Nita as she walked over and sat on the couch.

“Neeka,” Hank snapped.

“It’s a fact, not a slur,” Granny Nita said. “Good morning, Junior. Otter Woman, are you Wee’git’s?”

Hank’s mouth was opening again, when Mave shouted from the kitchen, “Hank, do you have any maple syrup you can spare?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Are the Starr brothers coming to breakfast?” Jared asked Hank.

“They have jobs, Jared. You can’t expect them to come play video games and mooch food anymore.” He leaned over and kissed Neeka, nervously glancing