was wearing a huge nightgown that flowed around her like a floral tent and her thin white hair was wound up tight in pink curlers. I didnât think people used those things anymore.
âPeggy, donât you have school today?â she said when she finally took note of me.
âNope, itâs Saturday. Remember, Aunt Beatrix?â She sighed heavily at me. What was that about? She was the one who couldnât seem to keep the days of the week straight.
âPeggy, please donât say ânope.â You need to speak proper English during your formative years; otherwise you will develop poor grammar habits.â I bit my lip to hold in the groan. âAnd dear, donât you think youâd better put something else on?â She turned to Mom, whose cheeks had turned pink. âReally Elizabeth, you canât approve of this. Sheâs worn that shirt two days in a row. And shouldnât she do something with her hair?â I felt my mussed-up hair, then looked down at my Canucks jersey. It had only a couple of dirty smudges, but otherwise was perfectly fine.
âActually itâs the fourth day that Iâve worn this shirt, Aunt Beatrix. And unless something drastic happens to it today, Iâll probably wear it tomorrow too.â I watched her baggy eyelids widen. Aunt Margaret nervously brushed at the crumbs on the table and Mom quietly slipped out of her chair and took the dishes to the sink.
âOh, I see. Well, in my day, children were expected to be clean and dressed appropriately. But â¦â She sighed. â⦠those days are gone. You youngsters go around with rings in your noses and eyebrows, and your arms marked up with tattoos, and wear the most atrocious things.â She looked at my jersey with her nose all wrinkled ⦠like it smelled or something. That was the moment when I figured out what Mom and Aunt Margaret were laughing about earlier.
âRight, well, thatâs very interesting. But Iâm off to the library.â I saw my momâs eyes widen. I bet she knew I was already working on how to get out of spending time with the old biddy. I needed to come up with a different plan to get those diving lessons. Just then Aunt Margaret opened her big mouth.
âBy the way, Aunt Beatrix, youâll be pleased to know that Peggy is planning to spend some time with you this afternoon and on school days when she gets home. In fact, it was her idea. So now the two of you can get to know each other better. Wonât that be nice?â The look in my Aunt Margaretâs eyes told me Iâd walked right into the quicksand and she had no plans to rescue me. I jumped out of my chair and headed quickly for the back door.
âGotta go,â I said, and whipped out the door. On the way out I heard the last of their conversation.
âWell, thatâs wonderful. Iâm very sure with daily guidance I can set Peggy on the right course â just as I did when you both were girls.â
Great! While I thought Iâd come up with the perfect plan for softening Mom up so I could get diving lessons, in actual fact I had become an improvement project for my great aunt.
I stayed out as long as I could. First, I stopped at the library to look for books on underwater archaeology. When the librarian couldnât find anything she offered me a book on some old guy named Jacques Cousteau. She said he was famous because he explored the oceans and was like the father of scuba diving. I figured it was worth a look. My next stop was TBâs house to use his computer to locate the Reef Dive Shop and find out about lessons â it was the nearest dive shop to home, and the best part was they had beginner lessons starting almost every week.
When I finally got home Aunt Beatrix was sitting at the kitchen table wearing her coat with the fur collar and some crazy-ugly brown shoes. On her head was a dorky feather hat. She must have been hot, which would
John R. Little and Mark Allan Gunnells