Free The Daring Game by Kit Pearson

Chapmans’ living room. Carrie was helping Aunt Susan put the baby to bed. Eliza pretended to watch TV with Pam and Jean, but she was really listening to Uncle Adrian talk to Helen behind her. He was showing her his fishing rods.
    â€œI used to go fishing with my father all the time,” Helen said eagerly. “At Nulki Lake. We caught rainbow trout. Have you ever used a fly called a Doc Spratley?”
    Eliza was astonished at the enthusiasm in her voice. Who would have thought that Helen, of all people, liked fishing? Eliza liked it herself. She had to, in her family, her father and uncle were such fanatics.
    On the way back to school in the car Uncle Adrian said, “In the spring, Helen, you’ll have to come out with Eliza again and go salmon fishing with us.” A yearning look flickered on Helen’s face, then disappeared as she resumed her usual arrogant smile. Eliza flushed. Her uncle thought she and Helen were friends.
    O N WEDNESDAY EVENING they celebrated Helen’s birthday. After prep all the grade seven boarders were allowedto sit alone in the dining room and demolish the slab of chocolate cake that had “Happy Birthday, Helen” written on it in green icing.
    Helen presided at the head of the table, flourishing the cake knife. “Chocolate, chocolate, dee- lish -us chocolate,” she chanted. “P.J., have a huge piece. Sheila and Joan, pass your plates. There you are, Eliza Doolittle. Eat up, everyone, and rot your teeth!” A piece of icing flew off the knife and landed on Linda O.’s cheek. Helen at once daubed her own cheeks with icing, and the two performed a whooping war-dance around the table.
    â€œHelen’s so wild tonight,” Carrie whispered to Eliza. “I guess she’s happy because it’s her birthday.”
    Eliza watched the red-headed girl flop down in her chair and concentrate on her cake. As far as she knew Helen had received no presents, but she’d seen her give some money to Miss Bixley to buy the cake. Perhaps the money was all she had got. Helen never talked about her family. Eliza had heard every detail about Carrie’s brothers and sisters and parents; she knew that Jean was an only child, and that Pam’s brother went to boarding school in Toronto. But all she knew about Helen was that she came from a small city in central B.C.
    That morning, after pondering the matter for some time, she had wished Helen a Happy Birthday. Helen grinned so widely that Eliza began to think she was wrong about her after all. It was as if Helen cast some kind of spell over her and she couldn’t dislike her, no matter howmuch she tried to. Even if they weren’t friends, it was a relief not to have to be her enemy.
    â€œNow we’re all twelve,” said Helen, smacking her lips after her last swallow.
    â€œI’ll be thirteen in February,” boasted Linda O., “and you’re still the baby, Helen.” The two of them were always exchanging insults.
    â€œWell, we’re coming along behind you as fast as we can, Linoleum!” retorted Helen. “And one day we’ll be seventeen, and out of here! Free-e-e-e!” She slid a plate with a second piece of cake on it down the table to Linda O.’s place.
    So Helen didn’t mind growing older. Eliza was surprised, since Helen shunned teenage things as much as she did herself. The week before, the five of them had peeked in at the grade nines at their tea dance in the dining room. Each of the older girls was paired off with one of the boys who’d been sent over from St. Martin’s, the boys’ school a few miles from Ashdown. Helen had made as much fun of the gyrating couples as Pam and Carrie had envied them. Jean watched them wide-eyed, as if they were another species. Eliza had just gaped in dread. At home her friends were probably all going to dances. At least here the ordeal was delayed until you were fifteen.
    Eliza licked the last cake