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    One More Step
    One More Step
    One More Step
    Ebook58 pages42 minutes

    One More Step

    By Sheree Fitch

    2.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Fourteen-year-old Julian's parents separated when he was a baby and he is still angry and hurt. His mother has had relationships since--all of which have ended disastrously-- but this time it seems serious. Jean-Paul looks like he might be the real thing. Julian is wary--and critical--as he comes to terms with the fact that he and his brother may have to let down their defences and allow their mother to find happiness. On a road trip with his mother and her new beau, Julian finds that love--and happiness-- come in many guises. In the end, he realizes that it is not blood that determines true family, but the willingness to stand together.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOrca Book Publishers
    Release dateOct 1, 2002
    ISBN9781554696826
    One More Step
    Author

    Sheree Fitch

    Sheree Fitch has won almost every major award for Canadian children's literature, including the 2000 Vicky Metcalf Award for Literature for Young People, which acknowledges a "body of work inspirational to Canadian children." She has over twenty-five books to her credit. Her home base is on the east coast of Canada.

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      Book preview

      One More Step - Sheree Fitch

      SF

      Chapter One

      Purple condoms. My brother got purple condoms in his Christmas stocking. Mom must think things are heating up between Chris and Becca. Not likely. I got a diary.

      She gave me one when I was fourteen, too, said Chris. I used it for about a week. Then I forgot about it.

      Mom made a face at him.

      Well, don’t forget to use the condoms, okay?

      Mom’s pretty quick. We laughed. Well, the three of us did. Jean-Paul doesn’t understand our sense of humor. Or maybe he doesn’t understand period. He’s French.

      I learn more English in two day with your mother than I did in one whole year, he said, the first time I met him. I believe it. My mother is, among other things, a non-stop talker.

      Yes, he teased in his broken English. We get along well. She talk, I listen. I guess it was his idea of a joke. Ha. Ha. I didn’t laugh.

      They’ve been going out for about six months. At first, I didn’t think it was serious. I was wrong.

      Jean-Paul is coming for Christmas, Mom chirped one morning in early December.

      So. This was different. My mother gets twisted about tradition and family rituals. This was the first time I ever remember there being an extra on Christmas morning. An invitation like this meant something was up. I wasn’t cool with the idea, but I didn’t have a say in the matter.

      Jean-Paul arrived on Christmas Eve with meat pies, eggnog and presents for all.

      An egghead with eggnog, I whispered to Chris.

      Be cool, said Chris.

      I am. I said.

      Liar, he said.

      Hello, Julian, said Jean-Paul. To Chris.

      Merry Christmas, Chris, he said to me.

      "Hell-oooo! I said. I’m Julian. The tall one. Blonde, brown-eyed smart-ass, remember? Chris is the oldest. The short little twerp. Brown hair, blue eyes. The saint. One more time? Me, Julian. Him, Chris."

      Julian! said my mother.

      "Pardonnez-moi." said Jean-Paul.

      On Christmas morning, there was this real intense moment when Jean-Paul handed Mom a present. She opened it to find a jewelry box. Great, I thought, he is going to propose. But Sheree Fitch it was a pair of earrings. If my mother was disappointed, she didn’t show it.

      They’re beautiful, she said. Then she oohed and aahed and kissed Jean-Paul. No tongue, just a peck on the cheek. Thank God. Still, Chris rolled his eyes. I stuck my fingers so far down my throat, I almost gagged for real.

      To me, those earrings looked like hunks of banged up metal hanging from her ears.

      And they didn’t go with the necklace I got her.

      Then I found my diary. The diary is for getting out your innermost feelings, Mom had written on the inside cover. To learn to talk to yourself. In the end, you have to make friends with yourself and life will be easier.

      When she says things like that I want to barf. In the end? Like what does this mean? When I’m ready to die?

      It’s really so you won’t have time to go your bedroom and jack off, whispered Chris.

      What was that? asked Mom. I swear she has a sonar implant in her ear.

      Jean-Paul heard just fine.

      You don’t want to know, he said, winking at me.

      I guess some things are the same in any language.

      My parents divorced when I was a year old. That’s always my opening line when I have to write about myself in English class. If nothing else, it’ll put the teacher on my side from the start. English is not my best subject. No subject is, for that matter. That line works okay with girls, too. They make

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