Up Ghost River (10 page)

“They were?”

“Yeah. And they gave me really nice food. Like a chicken breast. And sauce. Lots of it.”

“Like the nuns eat?”

“Yep. Just like the nuns.”

“Did you get any chocolate cake?” I asked as Tony approached.

“What you get?” Tony asked.

“Chocolate cake,” said Amocheesh.

“No way,” he said.

“Yep.” My mouth watered and my stomach growled.

“Yeah. I'm going back.”

“How's that?” I asked. It was hard to get to the infirmary. You had to be really sick, otherwise they just sent you to the dorm. Even when they beat you till you bled you didn't always get to go.

“I'm going to have an accident,” Amocheesh said.

“What sort?” I asked.

“I'm gonna choose,” he said.

“That's stupid,” Tony said.

“If you're that hungry, maybe you could just go to Brother Jutras,” I said.

“No, an accident is better. I heard that Brother Jutras makes your thingy hurt.”

“That's not what Joe—” I clapped my hand over my mouth. I hadn't meant to blurt it out.

“What?” Tony asked.

“Maybe it doesn't hurt,” I said.

“How do you know?”

“I don't,” I lied.

“Did you go?” Tony asked.

“No,” I replied.

“Good,” he said. “Don't.”

I kept waiting for Mr. Pasko to tell me about the special place. In the meantime, Amocheesh wasn't around that much anymore. He was always helping out Father Lavois in chapel. If Father Lavois thought you were really good then you might have your cleaning duties stopped for a few days. We were talking about it when Brandon and his friend Russell approached at the next playtime break.

“I know something you don't know,” Brandon said.

“I doubt it,” Tony replied.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Brandon took a step forward and glared.

Tony shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Oh yeah. Well, get this, smarty-pants. Mr. Shaw is coming,” Brandon said.

“Who's that?” I asked.

“The Indian Agent,” Brandon replied.

“Oh no,” I said.

“What?” Tony said.

“It's good news, dummy,” Brandon said.

“I doubt it,” Tony said.

“Mr. Shaw already came here,” Russell said.

“When?” Tony asked.

“Before you got here,” Russell added.

“So?” Tony said.

“So he took all the whips away,” Brandon said.

“I don't believe it,” Tony said.

“He did!” Russell said.

“You'll see,” Brandon said.

I didn't think much of it, until a few weeks later when we heard at breakfast that Mr. Shaw really was coming. Sister Wesley didn't say anything about the whips. Instead, she told us that there was a new cleaning schedule because the school had to be spotless before he arrived.

Over the next few weeks, everyone was very busy preparing for Mr. Shaw. We kept cleaning, scrubbing and mopping, as the weather got hotter. On the day that he was supposed to come, we heard that his flight had been delayed and that he had decided to postpone his trip until after the summer holidays.

It was the last day of the school year. I couldn't stop thinking of what I would do when I got home, and anyone could have seen the twinkle in my eyes. We heard a loud scraping of chairs, and we all stood up. We weren't allowed to run, but we could barely contain ourselves, all pushing toward the door. There was still a risk that Father Gagnon would whip us for being pushy, but somehow this thought slipped from my mind as I left the classroom and hurried toward the front door. I was going home for the summer holidays—three months of freedom.

Outside was so bright. I could smell cut grass, horse manure and a hint of spruce. And then I was running across the wooden bridge, streaming past everyone, the water gushing beneath me. Just beyond the trees I could see glimpses of my house.

I ran up the path all the way to the front door, crying tears of joy. Home.

We were out on the Albany River, Alex, Papa and myself in our wooden canoe. Mama and my new baby sister, Mary-Louise, were at home. It was one of those days where the water and the blue sky seem
to merge. Papa had some fishing line and thread in his hands. He was showing me how to tie a lure.

“The most important thing is that it's secure and the lure can move freely,” Papa said. “The first thing we need to do is tie a bigger knot in the main line, so tie a granny knot, and then don't pull it tight—make sure it stays slightly open,” he said, pointing to the circular knot at the end of the thread.

Alex and I watched and listened intently. Papa expected us to commit the process to memory the first time, just like he had to do when he was growing up.

When he finished, he watched as we did it ourselves. Alex got it right the first time, but I had trouble pushing the line through the final loop. My fingers felt too big for the small hole.

“Don't worry about it, son,” Papa said. “Just try again.” He watched me until I got it right.

I was carrying a pike home. It was so big that I had to hold it near my face so it didn't drag on the ground. I'd caught it myself. Papa told me that I'm a quick learner and that Mama and Mary-Louise will be really happy about the pike. Alex was carrying a walleye but his was smaller than mine, only the length of his arm. We had left Papa to finish up at the river.

Mama opened the door as we walked up the path.

“My boys,” she said, smiling at us. She came out with a chopping board, which she put on the tree stump next to the house, and began gutting the fish. “Wanna help, Ed?” she asked.

“I … I don't remember how.”

“Sure you do. Come here,” she said. I stood in front of her and she leaned her head on my shoulders and took my hands, showing me how to use the knife. “You're getting so big,” she said. “You have such strong hands.”

—

The days ran together in a blur of fishing and eating and playing slingshots with Alex. I hadn't practised my aim all school year. Since I'd been gone, Alex had gotten better than me and could hit the farthest branches of the treetops.

“So what you learn at school?” Alex asked.

“Lots of things.”

“Like what?”

“I'm learning how to write Cree.”

“I already know that,” Alex said.

“You do not.”

“I do.”

“Show me.” He took a stick and drew a few scribbles in the dirt. I didn't know how to write perfectly but I was pretty sure that what he had scrawled didn't make any sense. “So what's it say, big shot?”

“Uh … it says, uh … Alex.”

“No it doesn't.”

“Yes it does.”

I took his writing stick and drew some circles with lines through them.

“That says Alex,” I lied.

He took the stick and began trying to copy the gibberish. I laughed inside. I couldn't wait to tell Tony.

A few days before I had to go back to St. Anne's, I got a terrible stomach ache. After the second day of being in pain, Mama took me to the infirmary. We were lucky. The doctor who flew in only once per month was in town.

“What's wrong with him?” he asked Mama. She told him my symptoms. He motioned me to sit on a long table and then pulled up
my shirt. I expected him to ask me to pull down my pants to feel my penis, like Brother Jutras had, but instead he pulled up my shirt and pressed my stomach in different places.

“Ow,” I said. It hurt everywhere he touched. Then he told me to open my mouth and he put a wooden stick inside.

“Okay, Ed, you can get down,” he said.

“What's wrong, Dr. Browning?” Mama asked.

“I think it's a case of pre-school nerves.”

“What's that?”

“It means that it's all in his head.”

“What should we do?”

“Nothing. He'll be fine.”

“But he's not eating.”

“Just give him some tea.”

“He's not drinking much either.”

“Don't worry. He'll be fine as soon as he gets back to school,” he said. He scribbled some notes on a pad of paper. “Next!” he said, and Mama and I left.

“Come on. Get up!” Mama said. It was the day I was going back to school. Everyone else was already up and dressed.

“I don't feel good,” I replied.

“Ed. Please. You'll be late.”

“I don't feel good.”

“Come on, Ed. You'll be fine,” Mama said. “Papa had to go and see Mr. Pasko at the store so I'm helping you today.” I slowly pulled on my pants. “Ed, can you hurry, please?”

She went to the trunk where everyone's clothes were kept. Alex began pulling them all out of the trunk.

“Not now, Alex. Please, Ed,” Mama said. “Can you hurry?”

—

We crossed over the bridge together—Mama, who was carrying Mary-Louise, Alex and me. I tried to take Mama's hand but there wasn't one spare so eventually I just grabbed onto her coat.

As the school came into view, I felt a rush of fear and the urge to pee. I turned back toward home.

“Come on, Ed!” Mama said.

“I have to go, Mama,” I said.

“Go in the school then.”

“I don't want to.” Brother Goulet was standing in the school's doorway.

“Number Four. Come and get registered,” he said in Cree.

“But I have to pee,” I said to him.

“After. Come.”

I turned to Mama. “Can you wait here until I finish?” She nodded.

Brother Goulet walked me to Father Gagnon's office where a group of boys were already in line. I stood at the back, trying to hold it. Once my name had been checked, I hurried to pee, then rushed back to the front door and looked outside. Mama, Alex and Mary-Louise were gone.

That first day of the new school year we had to shower again with the chemicals. It felt like a hole had opened in my chest and was getting bigger. The hole made me want to bolt so I stared at the floor, trying to hold everything in.

Most of the new boys were bigger than me, but I was a little taller, too, so when we went to line up to get our new numbers and new uniforms, my number was 15 out of 130. I looked at the number on the collar of my shirt. I didn't want it. I just wanted to be Ed. The
void in my chest was hurting so much that I felt like I was falling into it. It got worse during Brother Jutras's “medical exam.” I didn't look in his eyes when he did it. Just waited and tried not to feel anything. When it was over, and the other boys went to the yard, I went to the toilets and cried. I was feeling very homesick. I'd had enough of school. I hated being slapped and whipped all the time. I wished I could just disappear.

When there were no more tears, I left the toilets and headed for the yard. On the way, I saw Mike Pasko.

“Whoa!” he said in Cree. “You okay, Ed?”

“Yeah.”

“You look like you've been crying.”

“No. Maybe. I don't know.”

He pulled out a handkerchief. “Here.” For some reason, this gesture made the pain inside hurt more. I bit my lip. “What happened?”

“It's just …” I wasn't sure if I was allowed to tell him about being whipped and Brother Jutras's “exams.” My tears began to fall again.

“Come on. If you stop crying, I'll give you a surprise.”

“What?”

“I can't tell you. It's a secret.”

“What sort of surprise?” I said, wiping my face.

“I can't tell you right now.”

“Why not?”

“I have to check if it's allowed.”

“What's allowed?”

“So many questions, Ed! Be a good boy and you'll find out.”

I didn't see Mr. Pasko for a few weeks. We weren't going out to the yard as much now. We had to stay inside and sit in silence. It was because of the news on the radio. The Cold War was heating up.
I wondered how a Cold War could get warm—wouldn't it be a Hot War instead? My granddad had been in the First World War. He said that he had been sent across an ocean to live in a muddy trench and eat biscuits and dried milk. It didn't sound like a Hot War from the way he described it. It sounded loud, damp and bloody.

As the days went by I waited for my secret to be revealed. I wanted to tell Tony, but I knew that I wasn't allowed. Mr. Pasko had already done one nice thing for us—last Christmas, he had bought us all new hockey sticks so we could play ball hockey outside. He wore red and called himself Santa Claus, and the younger boys got to sit on his lap as he bounced them up and down. I wondered if he would give me a special present, one I didn't have to share with anyone. Or maybe he would let me work in his store. He did that with some of the older boys.

I kept waiting and waiting and then it happened on a Saturday. I was out in the yard playing tag with Joe, Amocheesh and Erick when Sister Wheesk came over.

“Message for you, Fifteen,” she said. “Go and see Father Gagnon.”

I left the yard and walked to Father Gagnon's office. Mr. Pasko was standing there, talking to Father Gagnon.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Where are we going?”

“It's a surprise. Come with me.” We left together through the front door into a bright, cloudless day. I could see the grass and the spruce forest in the distance. I felt free as a moose that has escaped a group of hunters. I ran to his van and he helped me onto the bench seat. He started the van, and the radio came on. It was country and western. Once he was out of the parking lot he started singing along. I smiled, but I didn't know the words so I just nodded in time. We turned off the main road and drove into a narrow track sheltered by thick spruce trees.

“Where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

The road twisted, and then the trees fell away and there was grass and the blue of the Albany River. We drove toward the water, and Mr. Pasko stopped the truck before he hit the rocks.