A Walk in the Park - Grace Casselman

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smiled. “Just tell them you’re so successful, you’re in the middle of an expansion!”

      “Good idea!” laughed her mom. “Wanna help me unpack some dishes?”

      Terra scrunched up her face, but nodded, following her mother into the kitchen. They chatted a bit but mostly just unwrapped glasses and plates and placed them in the cupboards in their new kitchen. That was kind of fun, actually, because Terra felt like she was making major decisions about where things would go from here on in.

      “Oh, we don’t need that,” said her mom, referring to the blue plastic milkbag container in Terra’s hands.

      “What? Why not?”

      “I was out grocery shopping, and they sell milk in plastic bottles here, not bags. So I guess we won’t have any use for that.”

      Terra frowned. “You’re not going to throw it out?”

      “Well, the cupboard space is rather limited, I don’t really see the point in keeping it.”

      Terra thought about all the milk she’d drunk out of bags in that holder. It seemed wrong to throw it out, just because it didn’t fit in. “I want it.”

      Her mother looked bemused but nodded. “Sure, dear.”

      Terra headed for the stairs, clutching her milkbag holder. She heard a strange noise and spun around.

      A very large man with a full red beard appeared in the hall, dragging a step-ladder behind him. “Why, hello,” he said cheerfully. “Who are you?”

      “Terra,” she answered, then blurted out, “I live here.”

      “Well, that’s great,” he grinned. “I’m Fred. Fred the Fixer, they call me.”

      She smiled. “Sorta like Bob the Builder?”

      “Exactly,” laughed Fred. “Just let me get this out of your way,” He dragged the ladder out of her path.

      “Oh, you’re done?” she asked hopefully.

      “No, no, just for today. But don’t worry, it’s going to be great.”

      “Uh-huh,” she replied noncommittally, looking around at the mess. There was a pile of wood in one corner, along with several cans of paint. Another wall was lined with toolboxes.

      He smiled at her. “So, what do you think of Inglewood?”

      She shrugged. “It’s okay.”

      “Just okay?” he raised an eyebrow. “You make any friends yet?”

      She thought briefly of Glenn, but then again, he’d just thrown her a wave as he ran out when the class bell rang. No one else had really talked to her, although she’d felt a lot of eyes following her around.

      “Well, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll make friends. You’re personable, aren’t you?” said Fred, wiping his hands on his overalls. “If you’re friendly, people will be friendly to you!”

      “Yeah, I guess so.”

      Actually, it wasn’t as easy as that.

      Joyce and her friends continued to plague her whenever they got a chance.

      Terra tried to ignore them. She told herself she wouldn’t let herself be cowed by a couple of bullies.

      So why, she asked herself, hadn’t she worn blue since that strange encounter?

      Then again, she only had that one blue shirt, anyhow. No point over-wearing it, right?

      To be fair, the other kids at Inglewood Junior High weren’t particularly unfriendly, but they seemed to be settled in established groups of friends. A few kids here and there eyed her with apparent interest, but no one approached her. And Terra didn’t have the nerve just to sit down with strangers at lunch without being invited.

      After several days of solitary lunch hours, Terra thought perhaps things were looking up.

      Walking down the hall, she recognized a familiar face. Glenn was leaning against a locker, chatting with three girls. “Hey, Terra,” he called, waving her over. “You should meet some friends of mine.” He waved idly in the direction of the girls. “This is Kaitlin, and Tracy and Winter. And this is Terra—T-E-R-R-A,” he spelled, grinning.

      Tracy, a petite dark-haired girl, just nodded. Actually, she didn’t look all that friendly.

      “Ah, Terra like ‘earth’ in Latin,” said Winter. She was tall and attractive, with curly black hair and dark skin, dressed in bold red and purple stripes. “That’s a great name.” She smiled warmly at Terra. “Welcome to Inglewood Junior High, girl.” She held out her hand.

      “Oh,” Terra blushed and shook the proffered hand. “Thanks.” Then, uncertain what to say, she added: “I was just going to say how much I liked the name Winter.”

      Winter’s smile broadened. “Thanks.”

      Kaitlin dropped her books loudly in the bottom of the locker. She pulled a large straw hat over her long medium-brown hair. “Hey!” she protested, targeting her grin at Terra. “Doesn’t anybody like my name?”

      “Don’t answer that,” interjected Winter. “She’s sufficiently self-absorbed as it is!”

      “I never!” exclaimed Kaitlin, looking indignant. “What impudent slander!”

      “I beg to differ,” Winter replied smoothly. “Justifiable commentary, I say.”

      Then they both burst out laughing.

      Terra blinked.

      “They do this,” Glenn whispered, shrugging. “Just ignore it. We all do.”

      “Glenn Waters,” admonished Kaitlin. “Just because we’re choosing to . . .” she paused, “. . . exercise our vocabularies, there’s no need to be rude.” She shook her head and turned her back on him. “So, where are you from?”

      “Oh. Uh, Ottawa.”

      Winter whistled. “Wow. That’s a long way.”

      “Have you been up the CN Tower?” interjected Tracy.

      Terra squinted. “Well, yeah. But you know that’s in Toronto, right?”

      Tracy shrugged. “It’s all in Ontario, isn’t it?”

      “Well, yeah. But it’s a big province.”

      “That’s for sure,” said Winter. “But Ottawa’s a beautiful city. My family went there a couple of summers ago. We saw the parliament buildings and visited the National Art Gallery. It was great.”

      Terra nodded, feeling a bit of a pang. “Yeah. I didn’t want to leave, but the engineering company my dad works for transferred him here for work.”

      Kaitlin and Winter smiled at her sympathetically.

      Tracy just looked bored. “Calgary’s a better city anyway.”

      “What do you miss most?” asked Kaitlin, curiously.

      “Well, I definitely miss my friends. And . . . I guess the trees?”

      “What do you mean? We have trees.”

      “Yeah . . . but I’m just not seeing the bush, the forest, that one sees in Ontario. Especially as you move into Northern Ontario, where we used to vacation. Out here, it just seems really . . . open and bare.”

      Winter nodded. “It’s the prairies . . . you’ll grow to like it. At least, that’s what my father says. He grew up in Montreal, and says he never wants to leave Alberta. Hey . . . we’d better get going, or we’re going to be late.”

      To prove the point, just then

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