Beauty Returns Read online

  Beauty

  Returns

  SYLVIA MCNICOLL

  Copyright © 2006 by Sylvia McNicoll

  EPub edition copyright © 2011 by Sylvia McNicoll

  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), without the prior written permission of Fitzhenry & Whiteside or, in case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from Access Copyright (Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency), 1 Yonge Street, Suite 1900, Toronto, ON M5E 1E5, fax (416) 868-1621.

  By purchasing this e-book you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any unauthorized information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Fitzhenry & Whiteside.

  Published in Canada by Fitzhenry & Whiteside,

  195 Allstate Parkway, Markham, Ontario L3R 4T8

  Published in the United States by Fitzhenry & Whiteside,

  311 Washington Street, Brighton, Massachusetts 02135

  www.fitzhenry.ca [email protected]

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover image by Sharif Tarabay

  Design by Wycliffe Smith Design Inc.

  Fitzhenry & Whiteside acknowledges with thanks the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Ontario Arts Council for their support of our publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund (CBF) for our publishing activities.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  McNicoll, Sylvia, 1954-Beauty returns / Sylvia McNicoll.

  ISBN 1-55005-100-8 (pbk.)

  ISBN 1-55005-149-0 (bound)

  eISBN 978-1-554559-879

  1. Guide dogs—Juvenile fiction. I. Title.

  PS8575.N52B42 2006 jC813'.54 C2006-900883-3

  U.S. Publisher Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  (Library of Congress Standards)

  McNicoll, Sylvia, 1954-

  Beauty returns / Sylvia McNicoll.

  [208] p. : cm.

  Summary: A contemporary high school love story: a girl who raises dog guides struggles to overcome the objections of her family, her friends, and her school, while she builds a relationship with an older blind and diabetic boy who is the new owner of one of her dogs.

  ISBN 1-55005-149-0

  ISBN 1-55005-100-8 (pbk.)

  eISBN 978-1-554559-879

  1. Guide dogs — Juvenile fiction. 2. Human-animal relationships — Juvenile fiction. 3. Labrador retriever — Fiction. I. Title.

  [Fic] dc22 PZ7.M2385Bea 2006

  DEDICATION

  To Magic, the real dog guide; and all the other dogs, trainers, foster owners, and donors who make the real magic possible.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  For all the help and information on foster puppies, thank you to Natalie Ann Comeau at Lions Foundation of Canada, Dog Guides. For guidance on the medical issues, thank you to Dr. Lindsay MacVicar. For generously sharing innermost thoughts and feelings about diabetes, blindness, dog guides, and life in general, thanks to Angela Mackay.

  FOR MORE INFORMATION

  For any of you who may wish for more information on dog guides, or how to donate or foster a puppy, please visit www.dogguides.com.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 1

  Elizabeth Alone

  “No steady boyfriends this year!” Alicia raises her hand to do a high five, curving her fingers back so as not to wreck her freshly-painted nails.

  “We’re playing the field!” I agree, touching my palm to hers carefully.

  We squeeze together in front of the full-length mirror on my bedroom door. Alicia got her braces off in August, and she’s blond and cute, with bubbly curls twisted and tacked on top of her head with a blue pencil.

  She’s wearing blue sandals that match her toes and fingernails, and they have high cork platforms—so she’s as tall as a fashion model.

  I grew four centimetres taller and a cup size larger over the summer—and I still look short and young next to her. I’ve got a round face with freckles, which we’ve hidden with cover-up, and white eyelashes, which we’ve coloured with mascara. I’m wearing all one colour, cream, so as not to break the height I have. And once I iron my springy red hair, I’ll look almost as cute as Alicia. Eat your hearts out, guys!

  “You wasted far too much time moping about Scott last year.” Alicia leans closer to the mirror and rubs some lipstick from her front teeth.

  “And you did, too, with…” I list her boyfriends on my fingers (she was always chasing some guy), “Todd, Brant, Eric, Malcolm…”

  “Enough already, you made your point. Do these jeans make me look fat?” Alicia straightens again and turns to check out her backside in the mirror.

  “Nothing makes you look fat!” I tell her, checking my own backside, which looks bigger than hers. “And you’re not changing again.”

  “Mmm, okay.” She frowns, studying her left profile. Straight nose, perfect skin, no more overbite—what did she have to frown about?

  “Did you hear Scott broke off with Gwen?”

  I shake my head. “And I don’t care, either!”

  Surprisingly, it’s true. I put my fist to my chest. There’s no instant ache at the mention of his name. I dated him last summer, but I’m just totally over him.

  “No one will ever make me feel that bad again.” I sigh happily. Still, in the back of my mind, a little voice whispers something. I can’t quite hear it—and it turns into a nagging hum.

  Alicia squints at me. “Maybe I should call Scott. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Alicia! Remember, no steady boyfriends this year. Casual or group dates only!” The nagging hum grows louder and clearer. I’m over Scott and don’t care that he didn’t call, but Kyle didn’t call over the summer either, and that bothers me. Why, I don’t know—it’s what boys always do, promise to call and then don’t.

  “You’re right. Scott has always been trouble for us.”

  Alicia checks out her right profile in the mirror. “Your outfit looks great!”

  “Thanks.” We shopped for it together—of course Alicia likes it.

  Mom thought I was nuts when I brought home light-coloured tee shirts and cargoes. “White? You bought white for the fall?” she said.

  “It’s winter white, Mom. Don’t you think it goes well with my colouring?” I held the top up close to my face, which can look kind of orange when my freckles are really in bloom.

  “Yes, but it’s so impractical. You’ll never be able keep that outfit clean.”

  Mom wears drabby clothes so that no dirt ever shows— what does she know? The mono-colour look is different, special. My belly button feels a bit cool, so I tug at the top to close the gap between it and my cargoes.


  “We’re done here. Let’s go downstairs. I want to straighten my hair.”

  “Wait! The final touch.” Alicia takes a small bottle from her backpack: Boy Catcher, the label says. She sprays herself for about thirty seconds, head to toe, until she smells like apple pie. “Want some?”

  I sneeze and shake my head. Alicia stuffs the Boy Catcher back in her bag, along with all the clothes she’s brought to try on. We high-step over last week’s supply of my clothes, spread everywhere and into the hall. We follow bacon smells into the kitchen.

  “To the laundry room,” I tell her.

  She clatters down the steps behind me to the all-purpose TV/computer/laundry room. I pick my way around the plastic rattles and wooden blocks on the floor to where the board and iron are standing, close behind the computer. I plug the iron in and wrinkle my nose at a really bad smell hanging in the air.

  “Peek-a-boo, baby!” Alicia calls as she stumbles over a choo-choo push toy.

  My sister’s eight-month-old son sticks his head out from his room. All four of his teeth show, jack-o’-lantern style. Then he stuffs his juice bottle in his mouth and begins his creep across the orange nylon carpet towards us.

  Dad renovated the basement last year. He added two rooms—one for my sister Debra and the other for Baby Teal, although the two of them have pretty much taken over every room of the house—and everyone’s lives. I roll my eyes and touch my spit-moistened finger to the iron. Sish! Lowering my head to the Teflon ironing-board cover, I spread my curls out and begin to iron.

  “Debra showed me this trick. It makes my hair smooth.”

  “Where is your sister, anyway?” Alicia asks, and Mom emerges from Teal’s room.

  “Oh, hi, Mrs. Kerr.”

  “Shh, Debra’s sleeping.” My mother wipes baby drool from her brown top. “She was up half the night with the baby.”

  “Like anyone else could sleep, either,” I grumble as I drape another section of my hair across the ironing board. No one listens. Since the baby arrived, I’ve become totally invisible unless somebody needs something.

  The brat uses our wrecked old couch to pull himself up.

  “You can stand up all by yourself. Aren’t you the cleverest boy?” Alicia claps her hands with delight.

  Hand over hand, Teal makes his way across the brown plaid cushions, drooling red juice from both corners of his mouth. The bad smell grows stronger as he gets closer.

  I press the back section of my hair, keeping an eye on him. He’s coming my way. When I finish pressing, I stand up.

  “Check it out, Alicia, did I miss any parts?”

  “No—wow! Your hair looks longer, too.” She reaches out and touches it. That’s why I don’t quite register that Teal is making his break from the couch. A wobbly half step—and a tiny hand reaches out and grabs my pant leg.

  Then a drool covered mouth bites my knee.

  “Ouch!” I yank my leg away, throwing the baby off balance. He wails in shock as he topples back. He’s left two sets of juice prints on my pant leg.

  “Crap! Mom—look! My brand new pants are ruined.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sakes—just run some cold water over the spot.” My mother’s lips purse with disapproval.

  “You honestly think you can get this red stuff out?”

  Teal pulls himself up on the couch again and stretches one arm out toward me.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” I back up, and he cries.

  “Elizabeth!”

  What is it about my family? I’m the one with goo on my pants, and yet I’m the one in trouble.

  “Is it too much to ask for? Clean clothes on my first day of high school?” I throw my hands up in the air.

  “And have you had a whiff of this child lately?”

  Mom rolls her eyes. “I’m late for class. You change him this time. And don’t forget to put away the ironing board. We have a baby in the house.” She stomps up the stairs.

  “What about my stain?” I call after her—no answer.

  “We have a baby in the house.” No kidding. I sigh.

  Wisps of red hair stand up from his head like little question marks. Large honey-coloured eyes stare back at me—puppy-dog eyes that remind me of my second foster dog, Beauty. It’s the expression they have most in common— accepting and trusting, yet totally baffled by the world around them.

  “Don’t look at me like that!” I lift Teal up but keep him at arm’s length, holding my breath and wincing.

  Alicia folds her arms across her chest and grins at me.

  She’s not going to lift a finger, obviously. She wants to watch me get covered in crap. Heh, heh, I’ll show everyone. “Time to wake up Mommy! She’s had enough time to sleep, don’t you think?” Teal still dangles from my hands as I kick open Debra’s bedroom door.

  Deb groans awake, sits up, and rubs her swollen eyes.

  Her black hair sticks up all over, porcupine style. “What time is it?”

  “Eight fifteen. Everyone’s late, and Teal’s made a stinky.”

  “I need to take a shower. Can you just…”

  “No.”

  As I lean over to dump him on the bed, Teal squirms and kicks. For a moment, I lose my footing and stumble, my chest on his face. He giggles as I pick myself up again.

  “C’mon, Alicia, we’re outta here!”

  We take the stairs two at a time. Back in the kitchen, I dab a wet washcloth at the red half moons on the knee of my cargoes. The half moons turn pink, then merge into a full moon. Who knows what the blob will look like when it dries again?

  I throw on a jacket and grab my backpack. “Gotta go, Mom. Bye.”

  “Wait. Where’s Teal?” Mom follows close at our heels, with her book bag in hand.

  “Oh, Deb woke up just in time.” We step out the door and Mom turns to lock up.

  “Come straight home,” she says, tucking her key into her purse. “We’re going to Canine Vision Canada today.”

  “Really?” I grin. “You didn’t tell me. What are we getting? Another Lab?”

  I secretly hope so. Then it will be like my other dogs, Beauty I and II—like I hadn’t given them away at all.

  “A Golden Retriever. And I have a surprise for you.”

  Mom climbs into the van, mumble, mumble, “…Magic.” The door slams shut.

  “What’s that? The new dog is magic?” Too late, Mom’s already backing the van up. Alicia and I continue to school.

  The leaves still dance on the branches in their summer greens, and the sun beams down, white-hot, across my back and shoulders. It doesn’t seem like autumn at all, and for sure it’s too hot for the first day of school. I take off my jacket and sling it over one shoulder.

  “Elizabeth, what’s that? You’ve got a red mark on your right boob.” Alicia points and chuckles.

  She’s right. There’s a perfect little red O circling where my nipple is located, a couple of layers down.

  “Juice drool. Drat, that kid ruins anything. Got something in your collection I can wear over this?”

  She opens her bag and rifles through, pitching me a green tee shirt.

  “Hurry up,” Alicia says.

  I yank it over my head and push my arms through the sleeves. Not the mature monochromatic effect I hoped for—still, it hides the stain.

  The sidewalks are deserted as we approach the school, a sure sign the first bell has rung.

  “Look, it’s one of those new Statuses.” Alicia points to a black SUV stopped in the driveway at the front entrance.

  The passenger door opens, and I watch a dog jump out, a Chocolate Lab. Her fur is the colour of milk chocolate with just a hint of cinnamon; her pinkish brown nose quivers at the air. Beauty! Can it be? All Chocolate Labs look like that; still, Kyle, her new owner, does go to this school. I see the thick black harness and feel pride rise inside me like the sun. My smile stretches wider. Beauty, my dog (at least my former dog) is performing exactly the way she’s supposed to. Tall and mysteriously dark and cool, Kyle grips Beau
ty’s harness.

  My heart swells suddenly, an instant ache pulses from my chest. Darn, this can’t be happening to me again.

  No. It’s seeing Beauty again, it has to be. I mean, she was my dog for a whole year.

  “Hey, he’s wearing the same thing as you—your psychic twin.”

  Alicia’s right. Kyle’s wearing beige cargoes and a dark green tee shirt. He’s even layered the dark green over a beige top.

  Why didn’t you call, I want to yell at him. Kyle reaches his fingers through his gelled black spikes, his eyes looking up and reflecting the aching blueness of the sky.

  Will he turn? Will he look my way?

  I smile, toss my hair back, and straighten my shoulders.

  “Whatever you’re doing, you can stop,” Alicia snipes at me. “You know he can’t see you.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Kyle and Beauty

  It’s the first day of school. I stand up from the breakfast table, bend over and touch my shoes to make sure. Left shoe feels fuzzy, and so does the right one. Beige suede loafers—at least that’s what I hope both of them are. “Do my shoes match?”

  “Uh huh,” my sister Shawna answers, her voice directly across from me.

  “Your pants are the same colour. Your shirt’s beige, too.

  You look bland. Let me get your green shirt to throw over.”

  A few seconds later, she puts it in my hands.

  “Bland, huh. And this green goes with beige, right?” I pull it over my head. It’s getting harder for me to remember what colours look like, let alone remember what goes together.

  “Yup.” Her voice drifts away. She must be leaving the room.

  “So, I’ll be off then,” I tell Dad as I head for the hall too.

  “Running behind.”

  “Ah’ll give you a lift. Just so happens ah’m goin’ right by your school this mornin’.”

  My father knows I can get to school by myself but he must have promised Mom he’d drive me. She’s in bed with the flu. So he uses his southern drawl, stretching out every syllable, making me want to punch a wall in irritation.