No Place for Kids

By Alison Lohans

Sisters Jennifer and Sarah were once part of a happy, stable family, but their idyllic life comes to an abrupt halt with the death of their mother. Unable to cope with his grief and the needs of his two young daughters, their father finds comfort in alcohol, gets fired from his job, and loses his grip on his family.

As twelve-year-old Jennifer approaches maturity, she starts to develop a tough exterior, especially when she attracts unwelcome attention from one of her father’s friends. With nothing left to lose, the two sisters decide run away to their mother’s sister in Vancouver, setting out with very little money and no clear plan. Along the way, they must overcome fear, loneliness, illness, and the conflict inherent in their sibling relationship. This emotional story deals with mature themes, but is ultimately about the enduring bonds of family. Suitable for readers aged nine to eleven.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heritage House
• Release date: Oct 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781772030181

Alison Lohans

Alison Lohans began making up stories when she was five, and knew at age nine that her calling was to be a writer. Born and raised in Reedley, California, she did her undergraduate work at Whittier College and California State University, Los Angeles. Soon afterwards, she immigrated to Canada in 1971 with her late husband. They spent five years in British Columbia (where her husband completed his Ph.D., and Alison earned her Postgraduate Diploma in Elementary Education while working as a pharmacy assistant). They then moved to Regina, Saskatchewan.Over the decades since Alison's first YA novel was published by Scholastic Canada in 1983, she has published 26 books for young people with Canadian and international presses. These books range from picture books, early chapter books, middle-grade novels, and on up to mature YA novels. Her YA novel This Land We Call Home (Pearson Education New Zealand, 2007) won the 2008 Saskatchewan Book Award for YA fiction, and many of her other books have been finalists for provincial, national, and international awards. Alison has done over a thousand readings of her works in schools and libraries across Canada, and still loves connecting with readers in this way.In addition to her books, Alison writes short fiction, poetry, and creative nonfiction. For decades she longed to write contemporary romance, and finally gathered up the courage to give it a try. She has taught writing and mentored other writers; she's taught instrumental music; completed her M.Ed. degree; done a bit of editing; and served as Writer-in-Residence at Regina Public Library in 2002-03. She has also served on countless boards of arts groups at local, provincial and national levels. Alison was awarded the 2012 Regina YWCA Woman of Distinction Award for her contributions to the arts.Alison treasures her connections with her writing groups: the Children's Writers' Round Robin; the Saskatchewan Romance Writers; the Saskatchewan Writers' Guild; CANSCAIP; and The Writers' Union of Canada.For fun, she plays cello, cornet and recorder in community groups, has resumed piano lessons after a decades-long hiatus, and occasionally sings in choirs. International travel is very high on the list of things Alison loves doing - and in some instances, books have been sparked by visits to new places.Regina has been home to Alison since 1976, where she lives with her dog Sebastian and two finches.

Book preview

Chapter 1

NO ADDRESS

THIS IS SICK, Jennifer said. "So sick. It’s no place for kids." She kicked one of the empty whisky bottles. It slid across the floor like a clear glass torpedo and slammed against the stove. The tiny bit of liquid still inside splashed onto the filthy linoleum.

Sarah jumped at the loud clang. Dad and the others might wake up. Her fingers knotted behind her back. Her older sister didn’t care about waking Dad. Not anymore. About the time Jen turned eleven, she’d started getting lippy. Now, at twelve, she was tough and wary. In a way, Sarah was glad. Dad didn’t look out for them much, so her sister had taken on the job. But was it worth getting yelled at? Jen was always ready for a fight these days. Sarah wasn’t so sure.

A hollow, empty feeling twisted her insides. Her stomach must be trying to eat itself because there was nothing else in there to digest. Sarah couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a regular meal. The constant hunger made her dizzy and tired. Her mouth watered at the thought of a hot dog. Even a peanut butter sandwich would be the best birthday present in the world. Was today her birthday? Or had May 26 already gone past, with nobody noticing?

Mom! something inside her whimpered. Quickly Sarah turned away so Jen couldn’t see her face. It seemed like forever since she’d last cuddled against her mother, and felt completely safe and loved. Not since . . . She drew in a sharp breath. If she allowed herself to think back to those scary times at the hospital, she’d fall apart for sure. And if that happened, she’d get in trouble with Jen.

Sarah bit down hard, then pressed a canker sore on her tongue against her teeth. The pain helped kill the memories. She was so hungry. So tired and confused. But you had to be tough. Jen kept reminding her that every day.

When it was safe to look around again, she went over to stand at the window. They were back in Winnipeg, and this backyard was a lot like all the others in their nonstop trip around western Canada. Dandelions were beginning to bloom everywhere—but you had to look past all the garbage to see the cheerful yellow flowers.

Aren’t you going to say anything? Jennifer snapped.

Sarah whirled around. "I know it’s no place for kids! You didn’t have to tell me that." Then she wished she could swallow the words. Her voice had been loud. What if it woke up Dad? Or . . . Wes? She shivered, thinking of Dad’s buddy who was letting them stay in his house for a while.

Jennifer was slouched against the counter, her skinny fingers picking at ragged spots on her jeans. Her face had a surly, restless look. As Sarah watched, she ground her heel on a cigarette butt on the floor and then deliberately shoved a dirty mug into the sink, where it clattered against other scummy dishes.

Sarah gasped. Don’t! What if you break something?

Hah. Think I care? Jen gave her a calculating look and picked up a plate. One instant it was in her sister’s hands; the next there followed a crash and the sound of shards of glass hitting the metal sink.

"Jen! What are you doing?"

They’ll be too passed out to notice. But for once her sister’s voice sounded uneasy. Jen leaned over the sink. It’s just that plate. And a mug. And a bowl, she added after a slight hesitation.

Sarah went to look. Tears pushed at the insides of her eyelids. What would Mom do if she could see them now?

Everything was so different.

Once they had a house, just like everybody else. She’d had clothes that fit, dolls, lots of markers for colouring, and a game with a charger that didn’t need batteries. She had piano lessons and jazz dance lessons—and she never had to wonder if there’d be food to eat. Jennifer had all those same things except dance; hockey was what she loved best of all.

But Mom got cancer. And everything began to change. Sarah found a bottle in the garbage one day and asked Mom if it should be recycled. After that she started hearing arguing voices at night, sometimes crying, when Mom and Dad thought she and Jen were sleeping. Often Mom had to be in the hospital. Dad wasn’t the same anymore. He quit joking around, and it sometimes seemed to Sarah that he didn’t see her—not even when she was standing right in front of him, talking to him. With Mom in the hospital, there were more bottles, and they weren’t always hiding in the garbage. By the time Mom died, Dad had begun forgetting about meals. And lots of times he didn’t go to his job at A-OK Construction. After a while he lost that job but didn’t try very hard to find another one. The furniture began to disappear. Then the bank took away their house because Dad got too far behind with the payments.

Now they migrated from one city to the next in their old car. Usually Dad’s buddy Joe went with them, and that was good. Dad did more drinking than working, but Joe found odd jobs to buy food and gas. Joe’s like family, Dad would say every now and then. And maybe he was like family; Sarah couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t known Joe. Wherever Dad and Joe went, the girls had no choice but to go along.

Sarah wiggled her toes inside her tight, holey running shoes. What about the broken dishes in the sink? Would Wes or one of the other men who lived here yell at them? It was all Jen’s fault!

Her stomach cramped.

Just in case, she opened the door of the yellow fridge that stood there like a big lie. The same as before, all that was inside was two bottles of beer. And some greenish bologna, plus a few slices of mouldy bread and a slimy mess where something had spilled. The smell nearly made Sarah throw up.

This house was a lot like the others they’d stayed in—a few weeks here, a couple of months there. Sudbury, Thunder Bay, Calgary. Winnipeg, Moose Jaw, Medicine Hat. Dad and Joe seemed to have buddies everywhere. Once in a while there’d be a woman around when Joe or Dad found a girlfriend. If they were really lucky, she’d feel sorry for two neglected girls.

The clock on the wall wasn’t working, but it had to be lunchtime.

Sarah jiggled the dirty toaster. Cockroaches scurried for cover. She shuddered. She hated the bugs! She hated being hungry. And dirty. And ignored.

This definitely was no place for kids.

Aren’t you going to answer me? Jen’s voice made her jump. All you ever do is daydream.

Sarah stuck her chin out. I was thinking. Not daydreaming. If Jen had said something, she’d missed it. What?

"I said, her sister replied in a voice that made Sarah feel stupid, we need to get out of here!"

When Sarah glared at her, Jen’s eyes turned evasive. There’s nothing in the cupboards but roaches, she said quickly, and yanked a door open. Together they stared at the empty bread bags, empty cereal