Fight for Justice

by Lori Saigeon

  He came away from the table and sat down by his mom, his eyes downcast.

  “I’m not sure what happened in that store but I want you to know I meant what I said,” she began. “Do you know what was wrong in what you did?”

  “Yeah, but you don’t understand,” Justice burst out.

  “Maybe I don’t, but I understand what is right and wrong, Jus, and you do, too,” Mom pointed out.

  “I know,” Justice huffed. How could he tell his mom what had been going on for the last while at school and in the neighbourhood? He would probably be getting Charity in trouble for lying to Mr. Baker and not telling Mom everything, and his mom would know he had been covering up. “I know,” he repeated.

  There was a long pause while Mom seemed to decide something. “Look, we’re going out to Kokum and Mushum’s next weekend. I want you at home all the time you’re not in school until we go out to the reserve, understand?”

  “Yeah.” Justice was surprised his mom didn’t punish him further for the incident. Maybe she still would.

  The next week dragged by. Justice walked to and from school, always expecting the kid from the Shop ’n’ Go to jump out at him from every alley and doorway. He wondered daily what had happened to him and was thankful many times that the other boy went to a different school. Justice was glad to have an excuse for having to go straight home. He didn’t really want to hang around the schoolyard with that guy around. He didn’t want to run into Trey, either. Except for the walks back and forth to school, Justice felt as though he’d never see the outdoors again. Good thing he had his school project to keep him busy at home.

  Justice was actually glad to have time to add lots of details to his model of the reserve. It kept his mind away from the Shop ’n’ Go incident, too. He really took care to make bushes and trees out of twigs he found and attached to a board with plasticine. Justice also spent a lot of time constructing little buildings out of tiny boxes and other materials he found around the house. He found out that he was pretty good at it and he took pleasure from Charity’s and Mom’s praise as his “reserve” took shape. Mom even bought him a paint set to use to make things the right colour. She let him use some of her cotton balls as snow – that way the “trees” didn’t have to have leaves on them. In the end, Justice was pretty pleased with how his project was shaping up – now all he had to worry about was what he was going to say in front of his whole class.

  Chapter 12

  Saturday finally arrived. The family was eating a quick breakfast in preparation to drive out to their reserve. Justice could hardly wait to get there. As he shoveled cereal into his mouth, he imagined his grandparents’ house, the wide-open spaces around it and the bushes nearby where hideouts could be built.

  “Justice, slow down, my boy,” Mom chuckled. Her face had a slight smile on it and she looked more like her old self. “We’ll get there in plenty of time.”

  At last they had their bags in the car and were preparing to drive away. Justice practically bounced in the back seat, praying their old car wouldn’t give them any trouble on the highway.

  The trip to the reserve was uneventful. As they passed fields that had been recently harvested and a few fenced-in pastures, Charity, as usual, chattered away about friends, school and whatever else was going on in her life. Mom, as usual, included Justice in the conversation when she could. Justice began to feel the events of the last while drift away with every kilometre the car drove.

  As they entered the reserve, Justice’s heart lifted further. There were so many familiar landmarks! The same old house stood near the road, its paint still peeling; the same little black dog came running out from another house, still barking; the same clumps of bushes were in the same great places for playing; and there was Kokum and Mushum’s house ahead on the right! To Justice, approaching Kokum and Mushum’s house was like coming home. His eyes hungrily took in the red shingles, slightly curled, the clean white siding with red trim and the shed where he and Mushum had spent hours working on fishing lines and rabbit snares. His heart raced as he anticipated getting into those bushes with some old pieces of wood for building or maybe chasing some gophers with his slingshot.

  The car had barely rolled to a stop when Justice bounded out of it and raced up to the house. “Kokum! Mushum! We’re here!” he called. Mom didn’t even bother trying to tell him to be quieter. She just laughed as the arrival ritual repeated itself, the same as last time and many times before.

  Kokum was waiting for them and came to the door, holding it open for the family. Her round face beamed at the children and their mother. “Heh, heh, look at you two, growing like weeds!” she teased.

  “Hi, Mom.” Mom grinned at her own mother. She reached out to Kokum and was embraced in a big hug and a kiss. “I’d love a cup of coffee,” she admitted. “That drive isn’t getting any shorter.” Justice had already run through the tiny house as his mom sat down at the kitchen table and his grandma bustled around placing bannock, jam and plates on the table. A pot of hamburger soup waited on the stove. “Justice, my boy, come and eat something!” fussed Kokum. “You’ll need all your energy to help Mushum.” She turned to Charity. “How’s my girl?” she asked, squeezing her in a hug.

  “Good, Kokum,” Charity responded quickly, her eyes shining. “Where is Mushum?”

  “Oh, he’s out in that shed of his, of course, still fiddling with that snowmobile. I think he likes being out there alone.” Kokum chuckled.

  “Can I go get him?” Charity asked, ready to run.

  “Yeah, sure, tell him it’s coffee time,” the older woman answered immediately, then turned to her daughter and grandson. “How was the trip?”

  “Oh, the usual. Nothing special,” Mom responded. “I see they’re rebuilding that gas station near the highway.”

  “Oh, yeah, the band council finally agreed to take it over and make something out of it. They’re going to add a little grocery store, too,” Kokum told her. “That’ll be handy for Dad and me. I’ll be glad not to drive into town just for milk or fruit.”

  “That’s great!” Mom’s voice glowed with interest. Justice hoped they weren’t going to get into a whole discussion about the band council and all the decisions that needed to be made. It could take hours; the two women had many opinions about how the reserve should be run.

  “What are you two gabbing about, eh?” exclaimed Mushum as he entered the house. “You just got here and you’re yakking away. My ears are starting to hurt already.” His eyes crinkled at the corners and Justice knew he was joking, as he did so often.

  “Oh, you!” cried Kokum. “Never mind us, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” She put her hands on Mom’s shoulders. “I’ve missed my girl.” She smiled down at Mom, and they hugged again.

  Mushum held out his arms. “Justice, how are you?”

  “I’m good, Mushum!” For the first time ever, Justice wasn’t sure if he should hug his grandfather or shake his hand. Mushum decided for him, surrounding him with his big arms. Justice could smell Mushum’s smell, a mixture of cigarette smoke, woodsmoke from his shed and soap. He closed his eyes a moment and breathed in deeply.

  After a moment Mushum held Justice out at arm’s length. “Well, look at you,” he grinned, “you’re getting to be a man.”

  Justice laughed. It was the same thing Mushum said every time he saw him but it still gave him a warm glow inside.

  “And Charity,” he said, “how’s the prettiest girl in Monarch City?”

  “Oh, Mushum!” Charity bubbled, “I’m fine!” And she ran to hug Mushum. She sure doesn’t worry about being too old to hug Mushum, thought Justice.

  “All right, you four, sit down and have coffee,” Kokum urged. “The bannock’s getting cold.”

  “Okay, but Justice and I are heading out to the shed right after coffee. Right, eh Jus?” His grandfather looked at him expectantly.

  “Yup,” Justice replied, reaching for the jam. “What are we going to work on?”

  “Oh,
that’s man stuff.” Mushum winked. “We can’t tell these girls what we’re doing out there.”

  Justice laughed. He knew Mushum would have something interesting for him to look at and learn about in the shed. He could tell his mom and sister all about it if he really wanted to, but it was a big deal between them that he and Mushum never did. He hurried through eating his bannock and a bowl of soup, so much so that his mom gave him a disapproving look, probably about the amount of food he had stuffed into his mouth at once.

  Finally, Mushum was done his coffee, and they shrugged into their jackets and headed out the door for the shed. The pungent smell of woodsmoke surrounded Justice as he entered it. Mushum had an old wood stove burning in there whenever the temperature dropped below freezing.

  •••

  Mushum’s snowmobile took up the entire space in the middle of the little building, its motor open with strange-looking parts laid out on the hood. Justice went right over and fingered one of the greasy motor pieces.

  “Now don’t forget, Jus,” Mushum said, “I put each part in its own place so I can remember what it’s for.”

  Justice was glad he hadn’t moved anything. “So what’s wrong with the motor, Mushum?” he asked.

  “That’s a good question, my boy. It doesn’t work right,” Mushum answered, grinning and raising his eyebrows at Justice. They laughed. Obviously, that’s why he had taken the motor apart.

  Mushum continued. “It seems to cough when it’s running, and once at the end of last winter it died on me when I was out across the lake. Lucky thing I got it going again or it would’ve been a long walk home.”

  Wow, Justice thought, the lake is outside of the reserve. That would’ve been a two- or three-hour walk home. “We better get this thing fixed,” he said.

  “Well, now, I think these parts just need a little cleaning,” Mushum explained. Mushum carefully unscrewed a spark plug with a special wrench, keeping back a little so Justice could see what he was doing. “See all this black carbon? That’s got to come off.” He scraped it carefully with a file.

  Mushum nodded to Justice. “Why don’t you try the next one?” Justice tried hard to remember what Mushum had done. He used the wrench on the next spark plug, looking to Mushum for a nod to make sure he was doing it right. “You’re being careful, my boy,” Mushum praised. Gently, Justice scraped the second plug, trying to get rid of all the carbon the way Mushum had. “Let’s try that and see how she runs.”

  When everything was back in place, Mushum tried the motor and it started reluctantly.

  “You did it!” Justice shouted.

  Mushum smiled and turned off the engine. “We did it,” he said.

  Mushum straightened up a little, his hands on his lower back. “So how’s school going, Justice?” he asked, stretching.

  “Pretty good,” Justice replied, wondering whether his mom had told Mushum about the Shop ’n’ Go.

  “You keeping out of trouble?”

  Justice shot a quick look at his grandfather, but he seemed unaware of what had happened lately.

  “Yeah, mostly,” he replied evasively.

  “Mostly, eh?” Mushum chuckled, waiting expectantly. “Does that mean, ‘Not always’?”

  “Well, you know, Mushum, no one’s perfect.” Justice squirmed. He wished they could change the topic.

  Mushum gazed at him for a moment, then patted his pockets for his cigarettes. “You know, Jus, I used to fight a lot when I was in school.” He paused to light his smoke. “I always wanted to be right and always had to prove it.” Mushum chuckled and shook his head. “I proved my nose could bleed but I’m not sure what else I proved,” he finished, a faraway look in his eyes.

  There was silence as Justice searched for words to tell Mushum what had been going on. Finally he looked at Mushum, then down at his feet. “There’s these kids that have been bugging me and Charity,” he began. “I can’t let them do that to us.”

  “Ah” Mushum sat down and leaned back on his old chair, nodding his head. “So you’ve been out to prove something too?”

  Justice looked at the floor. Now that he was in front of Mushum he was ashamed that he had been fighting.

  Mushum smiled at Justice. “You know, Jus, I knew some kids like that when I was young. They made me mad, but one day I looked at them really hard, trying to figure out why they picked on me. I saw that they weren’t happy inside. They wanted me to feel that way, too.”

  “But why?” Justice cried, his voice shaking.

  “I don’t know,” Mushum said. “They didn’t tell me. But I started to get an idea.”

  “What was it?”

  “You know how we’re always taught to treat each other with respect?” Justice nodded. “I saw that they didn’t respect me. Of course, I still didn’t know why.” Mushum got up and cleaned his hands with a rag, passing the rag to Justice for him to do the same.

  “Did you figure it out?”

  Mushum sat down again. “Think about those kids who came after you.”

  Justice thought about Trey and his friends. Maybe they were like the kids Mushum talked about. Unhappy inside. What made a person feel happy? What made them feel bad?

  “Well,” he said, “I feel good about myself if I do good things.”

  Mushum nodded and smiled. “What if you do bad things?”

  Justice thought he might be starting to understand. Wanting to hurt Trey hadn’t felt good.

  “I guess they don’t feel good about themselves,” he said after a moment. “Maybe that’s why they want to hurt other people.”

  “Maybe so,” Mushum replied. “I suppose what matters is how you handle things.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the end,” Mushum went on, “we have to be responsible for how we treat other people. We’re not asked to be proven right, we’re asked to show respect.” He paused. “Even if the other guy doesn’t respect us – and that’s hard.”

  Justice knew it was hard. He knew he wanted to pound some of those other kids, to make them take back what they had done and said. How could he walk away and ignore their taunts?

  “So what do you think, Jus?” Mushum asked. “Can you respect people who don’t show you respect?”

  “I’ll try, Mushum,” he answered. He wanted to make Mushum proud but he wondered whether he really could do it.

  Chapter 13

  Early the next morning, Justice was awakened by soft noises coming from the kitchen. When he tiptoed out to investigate, he found his grandfather quietly sipping coffee and putting bannock into a bread bag.

  “Mushum?” he called in a low voice, “what are you doing?”

  “Justice,” Mushum spoke softly, motioning him over, “I’m going to visit Mr. Blackquill. You know, our neighbour?” Mushum nodded his head toward a nearby house.

  Justice was surprised. Mr. Blackquill had always seemed crabby to him. Why would Mushum want to go visit him? “Why,” he asked aloud, “is he sick?”

  “Oh no, I just make it a habit to go see him once in a while. I thought everyone was still asleep.” He paused. “Do you want to come with me?”

  Justice didn’t really want to go to see Mr. Blackquill. He usually went out of his way to avoid him and his house. Mushum waited for an answer.

  “Yeah, sure,” he replied, shrugging.

  As they trudged across the 400 metres or so separating the two houses, Mushum puffed on a smoke and pointed out the distant pond to Justice. “It never did get as full of water as usual this year,” he told Justice. “I sure worry about the poor ducks who tried to nest there. Don’t think they made out too good,” he said, shaking his head sadly. Justice enjoyed hearing his grandfather talk about nature. Mushum seemed to know everything and he loved it all, almost as much as he loved Justice and Charity.

  “Are the ducks still there, Mushum?” Justice asked, thinking about going over to have a look at them.

  “Oh no, the winged ones are all gone south by now, my boy,” Mushum told him. �
�They’re too smart to stay here in winter.” Soon they arrived at Mr. Blackquill’s door. A broken window and sagging steps begged for someone to fix them up. Justice shoved his hands in his pockets and dragged behind his mushum, scuffing at some loose gravel by the door.

  Mushum stamped his boots on the front step to let Mr. Blackquill know he was there. He opened the door slowly, revealing a dim room. “Floyd, it’s Leon!” he called out. “Are you home?” There was a shuffling sound and an old man came to the door.

  “Leon? What do you want? It’s early.” Mr. Blackquill asked hoarsely

  “Oh, I know that, Floyd, but I knew you’d be up,” Mushum chuckled. “How about some bannock? Pearl made it fresh yesterday.”

  Mr. Blackquill nodded to Justice and Mushum to come in. “Guess I could eat some bannock.”

  As Justice came further into Mr. Blackquill’s house, he could see clutter everywhere. The kitchen table, the counter and even the couch were covered with papers, newspapers and plates of crumbs. A cat sat licking one of the plates by the kitchen sink. Justice cringed inwardly. This sure didn’t look like his kokum and mushum’s house!

  “Well, where’s this bannock?” Mr. Blackquill demanded.

  “Oh, here, it’s in a bread bag,” Mushum answered, offering it to him.

  “Hm. Looks good,” Mr. Blackquill said. “So, who’s this?” He looked harder at Justice. “You’re not one of those kids who’s been throwing rocks at my cats, eh?” His rough voice made Justice unsure what to say.