Up Ghost River (8 page)

“Mike!” It was back to English and my heart sank. Sister Thérèse seemed to be angry, but then Mike said something that made her smile. They talked for a few more minutes, then he turned around and waved to us and we waved back, and he left.

That evening we went out again to dig potatoes. Three of us were crouching around a potato plant and guessing what Mike had said to Sister Thérèse to make her smile.

“I think he said, ‘Take off your veil. I'll make you a woman,' ” Tony said. Everyone laughed.

“How would he do that?” Amocheesh asked.

“You don't know anything,” Tony said. I didn't know either, but didn't want to be mocked.

“Yes, I do,” Amocheesh said.

“Okay. So how?”

“Shh,” said Sister Wesley, stalking toward us. Once she was close enough, she cuffed Tony around the head and told him to shut up.

When she was out of earshot, Tony said to Amocheesh, “Okay, so tell me, big shot.”

“You tell me,” Amocheesh replied.

“I'm not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“Because my papa said I should keep it to myself.”

“Your pa didn't tell you.”

“Shh,” I said. “She's coming.”

Sister Wesley stood over us and looked down.

“You're leaving too much dirt on them,” she said. “Hold out your hands.” Amocheesh, Tony and I held ours out. She slapped us all three times with her wooden stick. It stung, but wasn't as bad as the whip. Amocheesh started to cry. “Stop crying, Number Three,” she said. “Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about.” Amocheesh looked at his hands and wept silently. Sister Wesley shook her head and went back to patrolling the rest of the potato fields.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, I looked for a chance to ask Joe and Erick about whether they had asked Brother Jutras if I could come with them, but we were so busy with the extra work of cleaning the school before the holidays that it was hard to find the time to talk.

The days slipped by in a rush of holiday preparations and excitement, and then it was the last lesson on Friday. When the bell rang, everyone streamed out of the classroom. I said goodbye to Tony, Joe and Amocheesh at the school steps and we parted ways. Like everyone from far away, they stayed at school for the Christmas holidays, and I walked across the bridge home, with about twenty other boys and girls. We walked in silence, as if talking was still forbidden even this far from school.

I kept an eye out for Angela, as I knew she would be returning to Fort Albany too, but didn't see her on the bridge. I saw her several times each day at chapel and in our lessons, but we were never allowed to talk. The times that we were allowed to talk quietly, at playtime and in the school dining room, the girls were taken elsewhere. I wondered what she thought of me.
Did
she think of me? I had smiled at
her in our English lessons, and thought she had smiled back. I decided that once we were home I would go and visit.

When I got to my house, I did something I had never done before. I stopped outside the door. It felt different. Like it wasn't my own home. I wondered what had changed: everything looked the same, but felt unfamiliar. The logs by the side of the house looked the same, although now covered in snow, as did the path and the cross out back that Papa had built so Mama could pray for Rita. I couldn't figure out what it was. I knocked on the door.

Papa answered and picked me up in his arms. He carried me into the house. I took in his smell of leaves and wood smoke and buried my face in his hair. My heart felt warm against his.

“My boy,” he said, and brushed my hair away from my eyes. I looked at his eyes, as his gaze shifted from worry to love.

“I missed you,” I said.

“Me too,” he replied. “Too much.”

That night we ate all my favourite foods: goose and cranberry jam and bannock. The tastes were sharp and sweet and fatty and rich and it was all so good that I ate and ate until Papa said, “What, don't they feed you at St. Anne's?”

“Yeah, they do,” I said. “But not as much. And not like this.”

“Hmm,” he said, and he glanced at me worriedly, then looked at Mama, although she seemed not to notice as she was still serving everyone.

“Things were better this year,” he said. “We caught one hundred animals. Made about four grand, which means we paid off our debt and then some.” He glanced at Mama and smiled. She smiled back. “And this one is turning into quite the hunter,” he said, pointing to Alex. I looked at Alex. He was only five. He was definitely too young to shoot a gun.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He's been helping me track the animals.”

“How?”

“Looking for footprints. That sort of stuff.”

“I can do that.”

“I know you can.”

“So why are you letting him do it?”

“Well, Ed. You're not around.”

Alex was having a hard time cutting his meat, and Papa turned away from me and began to help him with his knife. Eventually he turned back to me. “There's something we wanted to tell you.” He glanced at Mama.

“What?” I said, looking down.

“Mama is pregnant!” Papa said.

“Really?” I said, looking at Mama.

“Yes,” she said, and she took Papa's hand.

“When is it coming?”

“In the season of
sekwan
, when the buds open and the geese arrive,” Papa said.

“Can I watch the birth?”

“No,” he said, frowning. “We'll be out in the bush.”

“Let me come with you.”

“No,” he said. “We already went through this. You have to go back to school.”

“I don't want to,” I said, quietly.

“Ed!” he said louder.

“Papa, please! It's not fair!”

“That's enough!” he said, and he stared at me until I fell silent. I decided to bring it up later in the holidays. There was no way I was going back.

Just before Christmas, Papa went and chopped down a spruce tree for Mama. We had never had a Christmas tree before, but Father Lavois
had told her it was a way to honour the Lord Jesus Christ. We had one at St. Anne's too, although I can't remember the reason why, I think it was something about God liking big dead plants. The tree Papa picked was too big to fit inside the house—it would have filled the entire room—so we planted it in the snow outside.

Then Mama and Alex came outside, and Mama sang one of the English songs she had learned from Father Lavois. Alex tried to join in but he didn't know the words. I knew a few of them. It went “Wewissyouu a Mary Christmas. Wewissyouu a Mary Christmas.” And you repeated those words over and over.

After the song, Papa took Alex inside because he was cold. I looked at Mama, who looked happier than I'd seen her in a long time.
Now is my chance
, I thought.

“Mama. I really want to see the new baby being born.”

“Ed, you have to go back to school.”

“Why?”

“You need to learn to read and write.”

“Please. I don't like it there.”

“School is always hard.”

“But Sister Wesley has a new whip.”

“I was whipped at residential school.”

“You were?” I knew that she had gone to a residential school in Fort George across James Bay, but what this meant hadn't clicked. I wondered if her school was as bad as mine.

“Yes. The nun caught me throwing stones in the yard. They whipped me so hard I cried for two days. After that, I never did it again.”

“So you know,” I said. I couldn't believe that she knew how mean the nuns were and still wanted me to return to school. I wanted to curl up into a little ball and cry.

“They taught me discipline.”

“Discipline,” I said, my voice breaking.

“Yes, discipline.”

“Mama. Please. It's worse now.”

“I doubt it.”

“Why are you making me go back?”

“You have to. It's the law.”

“They are so mean!”

“You need to learn to read and write. You need to learn the wemistikoshiw ways.”

“They hurt us for no reason.”

“That's not true. You must have done something wrong.”

“I wanted more food,” I said, describing my ill-fated trip to the lunch line on the first day of school.

“You were stealing?” she asked.

“Yes. No.” I felt like I was back at St. Anne's.

“We always taught you never to steal.”

“It wasn't my fault!”

“Stealing is always wrong.”

“I don't want to go back,” I said.

Over the rest of the holidays, I tried to bring the topic up again with Mama and Papa but they always said the matter was already decided. Eventually I gave up.

I stayed close to home more than I used to. I liked to play with Papa's things when he was out of the house, they smelled of him. Once when I was wearing his hat, Mama took it away, saying I would get it dirty, but it upset me so much that she relented and let me wear it in the house, and even let me sleep in it.

On the day that I went back to school, Papa, Mama and Alex were scheduled to head for their trapline. Papa made a big breakfast of bannock and rabbit, but I was too anxious to eat it. I waited by the door for Papa to take me.

“Ed,” he said. “Your mama isn't feeling well. I'm going to take her to the infirmary. Can you go to school by yourself today? Or do you need me to take you?”

I felt crushed. I really wanted to be with him, even for a few more minutes. I stared at the floor and then looked up at him. He looked between Mama and me worriedly.

“Okay, Papa,” I said. I put on my coat and left.

I walked toward the river, looking at the spruce forest on the other side. Once on the bridge, I looked back. I could make out patches of roof between the trees and shrubs that lined the river. All I could think: I love you Mama, Papa and Alex. I already miss you so much.

Back at school, Tony came up to me at first break. He was more energetic than I had seen him in a while.

“Look what I got!” He put his hand into his pocket and showed me a corner of yellow paper. It looked like a packet of chewing gum. “One of the older boys gave it to me.”

“Can I have some?” I was still debating whether or not to go to Brother Jutras. Joe had finally said that it was okay as long as I didn't tell anyone.

“Yeah. Not right now though. Sister Wesley is watching.” I looked around the yard and saw her standing next to the entrance. He was right. We were quiet for a while, hoping she would pay attention to the other boys instead.

“How was your break?”

“Good,” I said. “We got presents this year.” Mama had decided that we would have Christmas presents as well as the spruce tree. We had never done that before, but she said she wanted a celebration worthy of the baby Jesus.

“Presents?”

“Christmas presents.”

“Yeah. Some people have started doing that in my town, too.”

“Did you get any?”

“Nah. Is Alex coming to St. Anne's this year?”

“No. Next.”

“Lucky him,” Tony said. “One more year out in the bush.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Tony hid the gum under his mattress and rationed it out. Sometimes we'd take it in turns to chew the same piece. Tony always got the first chew, and normally I got to go next so the gum still had some flavour. It was risky—I'd heard from some of the older boys that the punishment for chewing gum was to kneel in front of the class with the piece stuck to your nose, while the rest of the class laughed and pointed.

Chewing the gum took my mind off things, and made me forget the pains in my stomach for a while. But they always came back stronger. Tony said it happened to him too, and that's why we should go stealing. I didn't want to, I was too scared. But every day he kept on at me, calling me yellow legs, lazy bones or a wemistikoshiw trapper. I ignored him, but it was hard seeing the nuns eat their chicken or steaks every night and being hungry.

The night I agreed to go with Tony, we kneeled listening to Sister Wesley say her nightly prayers, telling us, as usual, that we were all sinners who would probably go to hell, then got into bed. I rolled over so I could see the dorm door ajar, and the thin line of light radiating from under Sister Wesley's bedroom door down the hall. I waited for her to turn it off. She seemed to be taking a while. I turned toward the window. The blinds were open, and I could see the moon brightening thin patches of cloud. What if we didn't go to the storeroom, but went home? We could sneak downstairs
and go out through the front door and run all the way across the bridge. Or better, we could run out to the bush. As I was imagining this, I drifted off to sleep.

“Hey, wait up!” I called out to Tony in the playground the next day. He paused. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” I could tell that he was angry.

“Look. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I thought you were going to wake me.”

“I tried.”

“So did you get anything?”

“No. Father Gagnon was down on the first floor. I had to hide.”

“Oh. Are you going again?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Tonight. Are you coming or are you a yellow legs?”

“I'm coming.”

Tony was leading me through the dark lobby. I was terrified. We got to the basement stairs, and they were cold. Once we were at the bottom, we stole past the room where they kept boys when they'd been bad. The door was shut and I didn't hear anyone inside. We walked past the store cupboard where they kept potatoes, beets and carrots and opened another door. It looked like the place where they kept canned goods, but I couldn't tell in the dark.

“Here,” Tony said. He fumbled about and I saw a flame. We went inside. Tony took down a can and put it in my hands. It was too dark to see what it was.