The Secret Diary of Cameron Baum

THURSDAY

Picture the scene: a detached house in the city suburbs, little different from the thousands that surround it. A white picket fence. A family car parked in the driveway. A basketball hoop above the garage door and a child's toys haphazardly scattered around the yard. A single mother lives here with her young family: a son, two daughters and their pet dog. All seems normal, nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary.

Look a little closer...

Anomalies begin to appear. The mother is fanatical about her fitness, jogging ever longer distances every day. The son and the eldest daughter can be glimpsed holding hands and kissing when they think no one is watching. The little girl is latino, not white like her siblings. She has long conversations with the dog, appearing to understand his frequent barks. At night the older girl doesn't sleep. Instead she patrols the house and yard and wider community. After dark? In LA? Is she mad? No, just very efficient at what she does. You would do well to avoid her if you have mischief on your mind; your life is as meaningless to her as the air she doesn't breathe.

Yet within these innocuous seeming walls are the individuals whose actions will determine the ultimate fate of mankind.

So no biggie...

-0-

It is an awesome responsibility and one which weighs heavily on the shoulders of Sarah Connor. Today she seeks to share that responsibilty by coming to me and requesting my help.

"I've arranged a meet to buy some weapons," she states without preamble. "It's in a rough part of town. Rougher than I'd like. I want you along as backup."

"What about John?"

"He has to stay here. Someone has to look after Mia. Her safety is as much a priority now as the other stuff."

Mia appears in the living room doorway. "What are you two whispering about?" she asks suspiciously.

"Nothing. Go and watch TV."

"It's an ad break. Is it about Snowy? Because he doesn't mean to make everything stink of the pool. The chlorine sticks to his fur no matter how many baths we take."

"It's not about the dog. Go back inside."

"I wanna get some cookies first."

"Why won't you eat the rice cakes I bought you?"

"They taste like cardboard."

"They're healthy and nutritious."

"Still taste like cardboard."

Mia goes into the kitchen and opens the cookie jar, blithely extracting three calorie-laden chocolate chip cookies. She inserts one in her mouth and begins to munch. Sarah Connor frowns but makes no move to prevent her. For someone so rigid and discliplined Mia's small acts of defiance must be infuriating. She should chill. But just try telling her that...

-0-

Sarah Connor and I take the freeway south. She is at the wheel of the Chevy Suburban while I am seated beside her. Traffic is fairly light and free-flowing. It is a sunny day and we are both wearing mirrored Rayban sunglasses that make us look totally badass. I pity the men who would try and mess with us.

"You're very popular with Mia lately," Sarah Connor states, glancing over at me.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning she's asked you to read her a bedtime story three nights in a row. It's always you or John, never me."

"I can imitate voices and John acts things out, making her laugh. You would merely read."

"I thought that was the point?"

"Evidently not."

"She calls me Senorita Shouty."

"It suits you."

This evokes a frown but no comment. "Has she noticed you're different yet?" she asks instead.

""She wonders why I never seem to eat anything."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I eat breakfast before she wakes and supper when she goes to bed."

"So you lied."

"You prefer I tell her the truth?"

"No. But one day the lies won't work."

"I will burn that bridge when I come to it."

"Cross that bridge, not burn."

"Oh. My bad."

"How are you and John?"

"I still satisfy him sexually, if that is what you mean. Although we are running out of Kama Sutra positions to try. Soon we will have to mix and match."

She groans and shakes her head. "Just what a mother wants to hear. I wish I hadn't asked!"

"Why did you ask?"

"Just making conversation."

"Yes, humans are often uncomfortable with silences and feel the need to fill it with meaningless prattle."

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine."

"Only a ray of sunshine is a ray of sunshine, although quantum theory postulates-"

She interrupts and says, "Let's listen to the radio."

Music fills the vehicle's interior. Early period Green Day. "I know this song," I announce. "The lyrics mention casual drug usage and male masturbation."

Sarah Connor groans again and hastily switches stations. A new song starts up.

I don't know this song," I confess. "Therefore I cannot interpret the lyrics."

"Good."

Charming much? Indeed not.

-0-

We arrive at our destination. Sarah Connor is correct: this is a rougher part of town. The houses are smaller and less well maintained. Yards are overgrown and unkempt. Groups of men loiter on street corners and make little attempt to conceal their weapons. This is gang territory; a virtual warzone.

I like it already.

"This is the address I was given."

We pull up to the kerb. The address is a single story building finished in faded white stucco, no better or worse than its neighbours.

We approach the door. Sarah Connor raps twice on the frame. A small grille at headheight opens and a black face peers at us. "What yo want?" he demands in an unfriendly tone.

"You Paradise?"

"Maybe. Who yo?"

"Sarah. We spoke on the phone."

"Right. Sarah. Yo bring the money?"

"I've brought it."

"Wait. I'll tell Paradise yo here."

The grille closes. Sarah Connor looks around. "Two white women in a place like this we might as well have targets on our backs. If this turns bad you have permission to use extreme force."

A license to kill, in other words. Like James Bond.

The door opens and a tall, slim black man ushers us inside. He is wearing a red silk bandanna round his head. This is called a do-rag. I wonder if I should wear one? I accessorize well.

"Are you Paradise?" Sarah Connor persists as we are led through the house.

"Leroy. Paradise is this way."

"Paradise is an odd name," I comment.

"I wouldn't be telling him that if I was yo."

We enter a room without windows or furnishings. Several wooden crates are piled against one wall. There is the faint whiff of something illicit in the air. My sensors examine the odour and draw their conclusion: marijuana.

A large black man enters the room, more fat than muscle. He doesn't wear a do-rag on his shaved head. Instead he sports multiple gold chains around his neck. Bling.

Sarah Connor says, "Are you Paradise?"

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm Sarah. We spoke on the phone."

"I speak to a lotta folk on the phone." He nods at me. "Who's babycakes?"

"A friend. I told you I'm looking to buy some merchandise. We agreed a price. Forty thousand."

"Yeah, about that. The deal is now fifty. Overheads and shit."

"Okay...fifty."

"Did I say fifty? I meant sixty."

"Now wait a minute-"

"In fact, I gotta whole new deal in mind. We keep the guns, take yo money and party down on yo pretty white asses."

"Don't be a fool, Paradise."

A pudgy hand reaches out and slaps her across the face. "Don't be calling me no fool, bitch!"

"Then stick to the deal and no one gets hurt."

"Oh yeah? Mebbe I wanna do some hurtin', you ever think of that? Which one yo want first, Leroy?"

Leroy grins in anticipation. "I'll take the mama. She feisty!"

Sarah Connor turns to me and whispers, "This isn't working. Take them down."

I do so. I am quick, clean and efficient. There is minimal blood-letting. Blood is not clean or efficient.

Sarah Connor stares down at the bodies without expression. "Idiots. Sometimes I think we deserve what coming." She nods at the wooden crates. "Might as well take them all."

"Waste not want not," I agree.

-0-

John is surprised to see so many crates. "Wow. Quite a haul. Were they having a sale or something?"

"Or something," I confirm.

"It was a shakedown. They had no intention of selling us anything," Sarah Connor says bitterly.

"You took care of it?"

"I have a license to kill. Like James Bond," I tell him.

"Where's Mia?"

"Playing in the pool with Snowy."

"Put these crates in the spare bedroom. We'll sort them out later. And lock the door. I don't want her finding them and thinking they're toys."

-0-

Later, when we are alone, John quizzes me in more detail about the events of the day.

"These two jerks - Paradise and Leroy - were they armed?"

"No."

"Paradise was a big guy?"

"Approximately two hundred and sixty pounds, more fat than muscle."

John shakes his head. "Mom's handled bigger than that. It makes no sense to kill them."

"You mourn their loss?"

"Hardly. We're not vigilantes. Mom's always been ruthless, but this...I think what happened in Mexico's taken her to a whole new level."

"They were bad men, intent on bad things."

"Oh I don't doubt it. It's what mom's capable of that worries me."

-0-

MONDAY

Today is Mia's first day at school. Sarah Connor has enrolled her in a fee-paying school in Burbank. It requires her to wear a uniform. This soon becomes a fresh source of contention.

"Why can't I wear tanktop and shorts like normal?"

"Because the rules stipulate school uniform."

"What does stipulate mean?"

"You do what you're told."

"The uniform itches!"

"It's fine."

"You don't know! And my shoes are too tight."

"You said they were fiine in the shop."

"That was in the shop; they're too tight now."

As usual John steps in and mediates.

"Wear the shoes for now. If they're too tight at the end of the day we'll buy you some new ones."

"Can Snowy come to school with me?"

"Of course not!"

"But he's really smart!"

"Oh for goodness sake!"

Again John intercedes. "Snowy can come with us to drop you off and he'll be there waiting for you when you come out."

"How long do I have to stay at school for?"

"Until three."

"I won't have any time to play!"

"We'll extend your bedtime by an hour. Now come on. We don't want to be late on your first day."

-0-

Mid-afternoon we receive a phonecall from the school. Mia is in trouble. Or rather she has caused trouble.

"She punched a boy in the face,'" Sarah Connor reports putting down the phone.

John says, "She hasn't been expelled on her first day?"

"No. The boy said something nasty to provoke her. I have to go see the Principal." She shakes her head. "Now I really do know how my mother felt."

"You punched boys in the face?" I ask.

"I was usually caught kissing them."

"So you were a skank."

This is an uncalled for remark apparently.

-0-

We all go to pick Mia up. Sarah Connor escorts her to the Surburban. Mia gets in and hugs Snowy.

"How was it" John asks.

"Oh the usual lecture. Discipline begins at home, no need for violence, blah blah blah."

"That boy deserved it!" Mia insists. "He called me a bad word!"

"Did the word rhyme with trick?"

"Uh huh. Papa say if anyone call me that I have to stick up for myself. I am proud to be Mexican!"

Sarah Connor notices Mia is cradling her right hand. "Did you hurt yourself? Let me see."

Mia extends her hand. The knuckle is red and swollen but no bones are broken.

"I'll put ice on it later. That boy was much bigger than you. Suppose he'd hit you back?"

"Then I hit him harder!"

"When we get home I'll teach you some self-defense moves. At least that way you can protect yourself without getting hurt."

She is true to her word. Once home the two spend the rest of the day practicing self-defense. They both seem to enjoy it. In the evening Mia requests Sarah Connor to read her a bedtime story, the first time she has done so since our arrival. It appears the two of them have finally bonded. Over violence. Go figure.

WEDNESDAY

With Mia away at school for much of the day Snowy finds himself at a loose end. Most days he does a few desultory circuits of the yard, then settles on the pool apron in the shade cast by the diving board for a long nap. Sarah Connor has yet to dig out any vegetable beds so there is little mischief for him to get up to. He seems so lonely and forlorn that I take pity on him and volunteer to take him for a walk.

It is just like old times: Snowy trots ahead of me, straining at the leash, while I maintain an unhurried pace behind. The area where we reside has many wide sidewalks, with grass verges and regularly spaced trees. Snowy insists on interrogating every tree trunk with his nose before the leash tightens and he is yanked away. John told me what it is he's sniffing. It's really gross and I will not record it here.

We encounter few people. Los Angeles is a city of cars. Few humans bother to walk anywhere when they can ride. No wonder so many Americans are obese.

We reach an intersection five blocks from the safehouse and wait for the lights to turn red so we can cross. Also waiting is a man walking a dog of his own. The dog is the same breed as Snowy. And female. The two waste no time in sniffing each other's bottoms. This is how dogs greet each other. I am glad humans do not share the same ritual.

"Cute dog you've got there," The man says to me. He is not much older than John, with short cropped hair and a tee shirt with the slogan THE BUTTHOLE SURFERS on the front. Can you surf buttholes? It seems unlikely. Suppose you fell in?

"Yes, Snowy is cute," I agree.

The man smiles. "Cute owner too."

"I am not his owner."

"Oh. Well, you're cute anyway."

"Thank you."

"I'm Daniel."

"Cameron."

"That's my dog, Lulu. Snowy, did you say yours is?"

I confirm this to be so.

"So you live around here, Cameron?"

I confirm this also.

"Just moved here? Because I walk Lulu everyday and I think I'd haved noticed someone as cute as you before now."

"We have just moved here."

"Listen, there's a park a block or so from here. I usually let Lulu off the leash so she can run around and get some exercise. Think Snowy would like that?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

This provokes a laugh but nothing more. There seems little wrong with this plan so I agree to it.

At the park we release the dogs and they run about together. Snowy wastes no time in telling Lulu about his trip to Mexico. Lulu doesn't say much. Possibly she is shy.

Daniel and I sit on a park bench under the shade cast by a tall chusan palm.

"So, you go to college, Cameron?" he asks.

"No."

"What do you do?"

"I am presently attempting to save the world."

"The Green movement and all that enviromental stuff? I'm totally with you there. I'm studying part-time at UCLA. I was hoping to get into MIT but I got sick in my senior year and my grades kinda suffered."

"Sick?"

"Yeah. Leukemia. Real bummer. Still, all my recent tests were clear, so with any luck I've beat that sucker. Touch wood."

He raps on the wooden slats of the bench. Odd. Possibly he believes in a wooden deity.

"Would you like an ice cream? There's a vendor over there. My treat."

"No, thank you."

"Look at those two," he says indicating Snowy and Lulu. "They sure made friends quick. Good job they've both been snipped, right?"

"Snipped?"

"Yeah, you know, down below..."

"Oh you mean the removal of his bad boys. Yes, he has been snipped."

"Lulu as well. It's for the best."

"Snowy doesn't think so; he misses his bad boys."

Daniel laughs. "Yeah, I can totally relate! The docs told me there was a thirty percent chance the treatment would leave me sterile. I think that scared me more than the prospect of dying."

"Thirty percent means a seventy percent chance it wouldn't," I point out.

"Yeah. For once my luck was in."

"So your bad boys are intact?"

"Last time I looked."

"Do you look often?"

Daniel laughs and shakes his head. "You know, you're like no other girl I've ever met before."

I tell him this is more true than he realizes.

"Do you like buttholes?" I inquire.

"Ah - excuse me?"

"Your tee shirt. Do you surf buttholes?"

"Oh. No, it's the name of a band. I picked this shirt up at a thrift shop on Vine. I thought it seemed kinda cool."

An amber alert icon flashes in my HUD. A reminder that time is passing.

"I must leave now," I inform Daniel. "Come, Snowy."

"So soon? Nothing I said, I hope?"

"No. My sister will be coming out of school soon. She likes her doggie to be there when she gets out."

"He's her dog?"

"Correct."

"Well, maybe I'll see you both again another day?"

"Anything is possible."

-0-

As it transpires we needn't have left so soon. Mia is tardy exiting the school. She is one of the last pupils to leave, preoccupied chatting to a blonde girl and doesn't look up even when I toot the horn.

snowy see mia! snowy see mia!

"I have eyes also."

The two girls part and Mia joins us in the Suburban.

"Who is that girl?" I inquire.

"Megan. She's in my class."

"So you have made a friend?"

"I guess. She likes the same TV shows I do."

"Shared interests are often a basis for friendship."

"I suppose. Megan's really phat."

"She didn't appear fat to me."

"Not fat, silly! Phat. P-h-a-t. It means cool."

I add this information to my database. I like to keep my list of modern idiom fully updated. It's groovy, daddy-o.

"Can we go to the skateboard park?"

"No."

"Can we go to the Mall?"

"No."

"Can we get takeout? Please, Cameron, I'm really hungry!"

"Didn't you eat lunch?"

"Yeah, just tattertots and shit."

Tattertots. And shit. It doesn't sound very healthy. Or palatable. I agree to visit a drivethru.

A five minutes later and we pull up beside a giant plastic clown. I roll down the window and Mia leans across me and yells at the clown, "Two burgers. One with cheese and one without. Hold the pickle. Double fries. One regular Coke." Less than a month in the country and already she is adapting well to the customs.

"You want me to supersize the Coke?" asks a tinny disembodied voice, presumably not the clown but an unseen employee.

"Yeah, supersize!"

The order duly arrives and I pay for it. Mia and Snowy eat while I drive.

"Would you like some fries, Cameron?" Mia asks.

"No, thank you."

"You never eat. Megan has a sister exactly like you."

"Exactly? I doubt it."

"It's true! She's always on a diet. And she's saving up for a nosejob. What's a nosejob?"

I consult my database. The information appears on my HUD.

NOSEJOB

Slang. A cosmetic surgical procedure designed to enhance facial appearance.

I divulge these details to Mia.

"Eww! So they give you a new nose?"

"Evidently."

"Suppose they give you a pig's nose by mistake?"

"It is likely the surgeon's are competent enough to tell the difference."

Mia touches her nose. "I hope I don't need a new nose. How about you?"

"Mine serves its purpose adequately."

We arrive back at the safehouse. Mia stuffs her mouth full of the last fries then says, "Quick, help me hide the cartons and wrappers before Sarah sees them. She hates me eating junk food."

Now she tells me.

"Cameron? D'you think Sarah likes me?"

"Of course. Why do you doubt this?"

"She's always yelling at me. I told Megan how she is and Megan thinks Sarah needs some Dick. Does she know anyone named Dick?"

"I don't think so. She knew a Derek, but he died."

"No Dick?"

I confrim there is presently no Dick in Sarah Connor's life.

"Why does it have to be someone named Dick?"

"I don't know. Megan didn't explain." Mia admits. "Maybe if tell her to find a Dick to play with she'll stop yelling at me?"

I agree this is worth a try.

-0-

To my surprise John becomes agitated when I tell him of the day's activities.

"Cam, that guy you met was totally hitting on you!"

"He was?"

"He invited you to the park, offered to buy you something to eat, told you intimate details about himself. Hell - it was practically a date!"

"Oh."

"It didn't occur to you to mention me?"

"No."

"I see."

John is grumpy for the rest of the day, even snapping at Mia when she spills some Cola on the floor. I have obviously made him jealous. Is this a good thing or bad? I have no frame of reference and decide to seek advice. Mia is too young, which leaves a choice between Snowy and Sarah Connor.

After much deliberation, I decide on the latter.

-0-

I find her in the kitchen loading dirty plates intot the dishwasher.

"Is is too hard for that girl to put her dirty plates on the counter like I told her? Know where I found this? Under a sofa cushion. How did it get there?"

I agree it is a mystery worth of Hercule Poirot. This is called being facetious. It earns me a frown but no reprimand. Possibly she is mellowing.

"I need your advice," I explain.

"You need my advice? Since when?"

"Since now."

I recount the events of the day and John's reaction to them.

"You did kind of lead this guy on."

"I did?"

"When he invited you to the park would've been a good time to mention a boyfriend."

"What should I do?"

"Will you see this Daniel again?"

"Snowy has expressed a strong desire to see LuLu again."

"Well, if you run into this guy tell him you're seeing someone. Chances are he'll back off."

"And if not, do I still have a license to kill?"

"What? Of course not! You can't terminate every man who looks twice at you - you'll decimate half of LA."

This sounds suspiciously like a compliment.

-0-

When I return to the attic room I find John still up.

"Tomorrow I'll walk Snowy," he states. "And if we run into this Daniel...well, he'll learn a thing or two.

But John doesn't walk Snowy the next day. No one does. The next day Snowy gets sick.

Very sick.

-000-

The Butthole Surfers. An actual band. Never got much radio play. Can't imagine why.

What's wrong with Snowy. There are a couple of clues. Will I off the doggie?

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