The Big Dig

  Praise for Lisa Harrington

  The Goodbye Girls

  “Harrington shines in this novel where two best friends—who couldn’t be more different—navigate the struggles of high school drama, family, and friendships…. Refreshing and inspiring. The author offers a nuanced perspective on teen angst and relationships.”

  –School Library Journal

  “A novel for any high-schooler who grew up loving the kids-on-a-mission tales of Andrew Clements, this fast read is filled with characters you can root for.”

  –Booklist

  “There is a lot to like about The Goodbye Girls. It’s topical, doesn’t take any easy outs, and it’s a fast, unsentimental read—whether you’re in high school or just remember it well.”

  –Quill & Quire

  “Funny the mess people can make of their love lives—or at least it is in The Goodbye Girls, Lisa Harrington’s hilarious deep dive into the chaos of high school romance and revenge.”

  –Vicki Grant, award-winning author of 36 Questions that Changed My Mind About You

  “Lisa Harrington is the Queen of Dialogue. Her words pull you into the teenage world with an effortless, snappy sense of humour, and realistic portrayal of the ups and downs of friendships and family. She makes writing look easy.”

  –Daphne Greer, Silver Birch–shortlisted author of Jacob’s Landing and Finding Grace

  “Lisa Harrington’s teen dialogue is always spot on and doesn’t disappoint in her latest offering. Paired with a fast-paced plot that expertly weaves in deeper layers of family secrets and best-friend drama, The Goodbye Girls holds you in its grip until the end.”

  –Jo Ann Yhard, author of Lost on Brier Island

  Live to Tell

  Winner: White Pine, Ann Connor Brimer, and SYRCA Snow Willow Awards

  “Beautifully constructed…. Harrington does a confident job of balancing suspense and teenage angst.”

  –Toronto Star

  “An intense, fast-paced, disquieting book.”

  –Atlantic Books Today

  “As satisfying as it is for a reader to solve a mystery before the author provides the “reveal.” even more satisfying is marvelling at the ability of an author to lead readers down the garden path while, at the same time, providing them with road signs telling them that they are not going in the right direction. A terrific read!”

  –Canadian Review of Materials

  Rattled

  “[An] excellent debut novel.”

  –Canadian Review of Materials

  Twisted

  “Through convincing dialogue and well-paced scenes, Harrington captures the right balance of romance, self-discovery, and adolescent anxiety.”

  –National Reading Campaign

  Copyright © 2019, Lisa Harrington

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission from the publisher, or, in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, permission from Access Copyright, 1 Yonge Street, Suite 1900, Toronto, Ontario M5E 1E5.

  Nimbus Publishing Limited

  3660 Strawberry Hill St, Halifax, NS, B3K 5A9

  (902) 455-4286 nimbus.ca

  Printed and bound in Canada

  NB1425

  This story is a work of fiction. Names characters, incidents, and places, including organizations and institutions, either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover Design: Colin Smith, CS Design

  Editor: Penelope Jackson

  Editor for the press: Whitney Moran

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Title: The big dig / Lisa Harrington.

  Names: Harrington, Lisa, author.

  Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20189068574 | Canadiana (ebook) 20189068582 | ISBN 9781771087544 (softcover)

  ISBN 9781771087551 (HTML)

  Classification: LCC PS8615.A7473 B54 2019 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23

  Nimbus Publishing acknowledges the financial support for its publishing activities from the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts, and from the Province of Nova Scotia. We are pleased to work in partnership with the Province of Nova Scotia to develop and promote our creative industries for the benefit of all Nova Scotians.

  Acknowledgements

  The Big Dig was a long time in the making—the first version conceived over twelve years ago—therefore, there are many people to thank. From fiercely loyal friends, some whom typed up my manuscript from handwritten pages (I couldn’t type; still can’t, really) to the anonymous judges of the Atlantic Writing Competition who gave me positive, constructive feedback, to Norene Smiley, whose “Writing for Children” workshop changed my life.

  My family—Ross, Lexi, and William: your constant support and encouragement means everything. And Hermione: sometimes you’re stinky, but I wouldn’t want anyone else to keep me company when I’m writing.

  My editor—Penelope Jackson: this is our third project together, and it’s like working with an old friend. To Whitney Moran, Emily MacKinnon, and the entire team at Nimbus: thank you for all that you do and for making me feel like family.

  My writing group—Daphne Greer, Graham Bullock, Joann Yhard, Lexi Harrington, and Jennifer Thorne: I know you are bleary eyed from all the versions and read-throughs of this story, but I could not have done it without you guys. And an extra thank you to my daughter, Lexi, who had to talk me off the ledge more than once.

  Lastly I would like to thank my mother, Donna, and my grandmother, Josie. They were the inspiration for this story and I am forever grateful for everything they taught me, and for the time we had together. I wish it could have been longer. I wonder what they would say if they could see me now....

  Prologue

  May 1976

  “Uh-oh.” Lucy cringed as the screen door slammed behind her.

  “Lucy!” her mom shouted from the kitchen. “How many times do I have to remind you about that door?”

  “Sorry!” She shrugged off her jacket, tossed it on the banister, and headed down the hall. When she saw her mom, she draped her arms around her and swooned dramatically. “Please, good mother. Don’t throw me in the dungeon. I am but an innocent child.” She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead.

  Her mom raised her eyebrows. “Well, that’s a bit much, I think. How about you just empty out the dishwasher and we’ll call it even.”

  “Deal.” Lucy pulled open the dishwasher and slid out the bottom rack.

  “How was school?”

  “Boring.”

  “You say that every day. How was babysitting, then?”

  “Good.” Lucy nodded. “Sadie just got two goldfish. She wants me to help her name them.”

  “How about Laverne and Shirley? You know, after the TV show?”

  “Mom. She’s four. She doesn’t watch Laverne and Shirley,” Lucy said, scraping something crusty off a fork with her fingernail. “Plus, she thinks they’re both boys.”

  “Oh, okay. That won’t work.”

  “And Mrs. Cooper wants to know if I’ll be around this summer to babysit a few days a week.”

  Her mom made a face.

  “What? I will be, won’t I?”

  “Well…I just don’t want you to commit to any kind of schedule.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re too young for a summer job. You’re only twelve, and I—”

  “Almost thirteen.”

  “Okay, almost thirteen, and…I kind of wanted us to do
a few things together this summer.”

  Lucy eyed her suspiciously. “Like what?”

  “I haven’t quite worked out all the details yet.”

  “But—”

  “Look, I’ll be away for at least a week in July, so why don’t you just tell her you’re good for July, but August is still up in the air.”

  Lucy scrunched up her nose, then sighed heavily. “Fine.”

  Her mom folded her arms. “You might actually have fun spending some time with your mother.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “You know your father,” she said, waving a hand dismissively through the air. “He says he’s going to take time off, but he never does.”

  “Fine.” Lucy sighed again.

  “Could you try not to act like I’m punishing you?”

  “I’m not,” Lucy mumbled.

  “Oh. I must have been imagining it.” Her mom smiled, then went over and cracked open the back door. “Linus! Here, Linus, psss, psss, psss…” A giant calico cat darted through the door, between her legs, and into the dining room.

  “Why does he only come for you?” Lucy asked. “I think he hates me.”

  “Don’t be silly. He hates your father too.”

  While putting the rest of the dishes away, Lucy noticed the lineup of stomach remedies on the counter—Pepto-Bismol, Mylanta, Tums, Alka-Seltzer. “Are you still feeling sick?”

  Her mom unscrewed the top on the Tums and shook out a couple. “Who knew curry could wreak such havoc on my system?” She popped the Tums in her mouth. “I’m starting to think Helen didn’t make it right. But then again, I’ve never had it before, so there’s really no way to tell.”

  “Well, was anyone else from the dinner party sick?”

  “No.” Her mom chewed thoughtfully on the tablets, then shrugged. “It’s probably an ulcer. That would make more sense…. I’ve rewritten the book ending twice and they’re still not happy.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. Isn’t it, like, three times lucky or something?”

  “I think it’s more like three strikes and you’re out.”

  “Speaking of books.” Lucy yanked open the junk drawer and dug out a pen. “They sent the Scholastic book orders home. There’s a set of writing paper with butterflies on it.”

  “That sounds right up your alley.”

  “I know.” Lucy pulled the leaflet from her book bag. “I can use my babysitting money.”

  “Or I can get it and keep it for your birthday.”

  “Oh.” Lucy pinched her lips together. “Maybe…but I still want some Nancy Drew books, and that sundress we saw at Sears, and those butterfly barrettes.”

  “Yes.” Her mom rolled her eyes. “I have your list.”

  “I put ‘surprises’ on there too, don’t forget.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can come up with one or two surprises,” her mom said. “Have you thought about what you want to do? It’ll be here before you know it.”

  “The usual. Chocolate money-cake—with lots of quarters—and a sleepover.”

  “That’s easy enough, I guess.” Her mom filled the teapot and set it on the stove. “Now, before I forget. You have a dentist appointment tomorrow afternoon. I’ll pick you up at three-thirty sharp, as soon as the bell rings.”

  Lucy dropped her chin to her chest. Ugh, the dentist. “Fine.” She wrote her name on the book-order form.

  “See if there’s a thesaurus in there,” her mom said, peeking over her shoulder. “You need some more options for fine.”

  Lucy stood in the school’s basketball court checking her watch. Mom’s never late. A minute later her dad’s car pulled up to the curb. He reached over and pushed open the passenger door. “Hop in, pumpkin. I’m taking you to your appointment.”

  “But where’s Mom?”

  “She’s still feeling a bit under the weather.”

  Chapter 1

  April 1977

  The service was a quiet affair. Lucy and Sadie were the only two in attendance. They stood like statues in the empty yard as a biting wind swirled decayed, leftover winter leaves in and around their feet. It felt more like February than April.

  Lucy reached down for Sadie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Ready?”

  Sadie sniffed loudly and dragged her arm under her nose, leaving a wet streak on the sleeve of her purple jacket. “I guess so,” she whispered.

  They both crouched down, gathered up a handful of gravelly dirt, and took a step closer to the tiny grave.

  “You go first,” Sadie said.

  Lucy nodded. “Goodbye, Bert. Happy travels.” There was a tinkling sound as the dirt hit the lid of the metal Sucrets tin.

  “You were a good fish, Bert,” Sadie said hoarsely. “Everyone liked Ernie best because they thought he was the funny one, but you were funny too. And smart. I’m gonna miss you.” She sprinkled her handful of dirt over the tin.

  Lucy knelt on the grass and shoved the rest of the earth into the grave. It only took a second. The ground was still partly frozen, so she’d only been able to manage the shallowest of holes, barely more than an indent. When it was filled, she patted the top and smoothed out the grapefruit-sized mound.

  “Let’s go in and warm up,” Lucy said, wiping her hands on her pants and collecting the soup spoon she’d used as a shovel. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

  “Beep, please,” Sadie said. “It was Bert’s favourite.”

  Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Sure,” she said slowly. “Beep it is.”

  Hiccupping back a sob, Sadie scrambled up onto a kitchen stool. “He was still alive when I went in to get my Barbies.”

  “It was just his time,” Lucy said gently as she tugged open the fridge door, shuffled some stuff around, and pulled out the carton of Beep.

  Sadie tilted her head and frowned. She seemed to be thinking hard. “Was it your mommy’s time too?”

  Lucy felt the carton slip a bit between her fingers. She licked her lips and swallowed. “Um…yeah. I guess it was.”

  “Mommy told me your mommy got sick and now she’s an angel in heaven. She said it was really sad and—oh no, I forgot.”

  Lucy’s eyes started to sting. She turned away and poured some Beep into a pink cup. Taking a deep breath, she set it in front of Sadie. “Forgot what?”

  “I’m not supposed to ask about your mommy,” she said, staring down at her lap.

  “It’s okay, Sadie. I don’t mind.”

  The little girl looked up. “Phew.” She reached for her cup and took a noisy slurp. “How come your mommy died? My Aunt Jeannie got sick, but she didn’t die. She had penonya.”

  “My mom was a different kind of sick. She was really, really sick.”

  “Do you think Bert was really, really sick?”

  Lucy glanced over at the carton of Beep. “Maybe?”

  Sadie sighed loudly. “I wanted to take him for show and tell next week.”

  “Hmm, let me think. Do you have a picture of Bert?”

  Sadie shook her head.

  “Well, you could draw a picture of him. Show your class, talk about how special he was, how much fun you had together, how much you’re going to miss him.”

  “Is that what you did for show and tell when your mommy died?”

  Something caught in Lucy’s throat. “No,” she said, turning away again. “We don’t have show and tell anymore.”

  There was a commotion in the front hall. Sadie’s mom bustled into the kitchen, loaded down with a bunch of paper grocery bags.

  “Mommy!” Sadie wailed as she hopped off her stool, ran to her mother, and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Bert’s dead! He died!”

  Sadie’s mom shot Lucy a questioning look over the grocery bags.

  Lucy nodded.

  Her face fell. “Oh,” she mouthed.

/>   “Here, Mrs. Cooper. I can take those,” Lucy said, helping her transfer the bags to the counter.

  Mrs. Cooper smiled gratefully, then leaned down to Sadie’s level. “I’m so sorry, honey. He lived a long life though, for a goldfish. Way longer than Ernie.”

  Sadie bobbed her head bravely, unshed tears clinging to her long eyelashes.

  “And sorry all this fell on you, Lucy.” Mrs. Cooper straightened and dug her wallet out of her purse. “Bad timing.”

  “Oh, that’s all right.” Lucy shrugged. “But just so you know, we had a funeral. He’s buried in the yard. She wouldn’t let me flush him.”

  Mrs. Cooper rolled her eyes and pressed a five-dollar bill into Lucy’s hand. “Yes. I flushed Ernie,” she said out the corner of her mouth. “Needless to say, it didn’t go over too well.”

  Lucy grinned as she jammed the money into the back pocket of her cords. “Bye, Sadie. See you Saturday.”

  “Will you help me draw a picture of Bert for show and tell?”

  “Definitely. And you get to stay up until it’s perfect.”

  Sadie smiled wide.

  Mrs. Cooper followed Lucy to the door. “So, Lucy. I know it’s still a couple months away, and, well, you’ve had a lot going on, but I’m looking for some part-time childcare again for Sadie through the summer. Do you think you might be available?”

  Lucy’s brain immediately kicked into overdrive. She’d seen a pamphlet in her dad’s office about the All City Band Summer Camp. And last she heard, icky Jean Pierre from her clarinet class was going. “You’re way too flat, Lucy. You’re using the wrong size reed, Lucy.” She wanted to smash her clarinet over his head every time he opened his mouth. Then there was always this huge puddle of spit on the floor in front of his chair. A whole summer of that? No. Way. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I have no plans.”

  “Wonderful!” Mrs. Cooper said. “But you talk to your dad first and get back to me when you can.”

  “Sure.”

  Lucy stopped the screen door with her butt so it wouldn’t slam. She shook off her jacket, hung it in the hall closet, and made her way to the kitchen. As she dumped her book bag on the table, she noticed steam shooting out of the kettle simmering on the stove—a mug and teabag waited on the counter. Smiling and shaking her head, Lucy tossed the bag into the kettle and turned off the burner. She gave the tea a couple of minutes to steep, then filled the mug and headed off in search of her dad. She wouldn’t have to look hard. She knew he’d be in his study. He’d been trying to work from home most afternoons so Lucy wouldn’t be alone so much.