“Where?”
“We have to go to the bush.”
“Why?”
“We can’t go back. They’ll give us the electric chair. Or put us in the basement.” The basement was where they put boys who’d been really bad. It was unlit and didn’t have a toilet. It was full of rats. After being locked in there, boys cried at night for weeks.
“What?! Wait! I can’t!”
“Yes you can. We need to head northwest. Then we can find my mama and papa.”
“But I’m cold.”
“We can make a fire when we’re farther away.”
“We don’t have anything to eat.”
“We can catch some fish.”
“What if we freeze?”
“We won’t.”
“But they will come and find us. We’ve left footprints. Then we will be in even more trouble.”
“We’re already in trouble.”
“You said that they wouldn’t do anything with Mr. Shaw here.”
“Well, maybe. But he’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
“You lied to me.”
“I was giving you courage.”
“I don’t care. I want to go back.”
“We can’t. They’ll whip us and put us in the electric chair.”
“If we keep going, they’ll come and find us and it will be worse. They’ll whip us and we’ll bleed and bleed.”
“No …” He began speaking but then caught himself. He seemed to slump, as if the fear had turned to defeat.
“It’s not fair,” he said quietly.
We didn’t want to be seen hanging about the school, so we stayed out by the trees until we heard the bell marking the end of lessons. Then we hurried to the school. I was afraid that we would be caught as we crossed the field, and I watched for Sister Wesley as I ran but couldn’t find her in the yard. Then I caught sight of Sister Wheesk, who was playing pat-a-cake with some of the boys. We ran to the opposite corner of the playground. As soon as we got to the gravel, we bent over to catch our breaths.
“There you are!” Amocheesh said. “Everyone was looking for you.”
“We were just getting some air,” Tony said.
“You guys are in such trouble. Everyone thought you’d run away. Sister Camille did the register at the beginning of class.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing, with Mr. Shaw here. She just pretended that you guys were ill. But he’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
They waited for a few days to punish us. Perhaps they hadn’t decided how best to teach us a lesson. Or they thought that Mr. Shaw would come back. Tony and I talked about it during the breaks.
“What are they waiting for?” I wondered.
“How should I know?” he said.
I glanced about. It could happen at any time. I tried to remember what my dad had taught me about being brave. You needed to be as courageous as a mother bear with her cubs, he said. That was one of the Seven Sacred Teachings.2 You need to stand, unafraid, and fight to the death. But what if they killed me? I bit my lip, trying not to cry.
On the day that we were punished, excitement ran through the room like a snake through dry grass. None of the nuns had announced anything, but it was as if the news travelled through air. The other boys were staring at Tony and me.
It started during the bed-wetting inspection. I tried to remember the Cree story about the courage of the Mother Bear but every time I thought about it, I saw Sister Wesley’s face on top of the sow’s body. The she-bear creature had angry eyes, and she was nothing like the animal in Papa’s teaching.
After breakfast we were supposed to go and play in the playroom, but Sister Wesley took Tony and me into one of the classrooms, which was empty except for Father Gagnon. Father Gagnon began to talk, with Sister Wesley translating.
“Why did you do it?” Father Gagnon asked Tony.
“Do what?”
“You know what I’m talking about! Run away!”
“We didn’t run away,” Tony said.
“Don’t answer me back, Number Fifty-Nine!”
“We needed some air.”
“We give you air, Number Fifty-Nine. That’s what playtimes are for.”
“Sorry,” Tony mumbled.
“Is that all you can say? You almost ruined the reputation of this school and that’s all you can say? Sorry?”
“Sorry, Father Gagnon.”
“What about you, Number Fifteen?”
“I …” I paused, wondering how I could dispel his anger.
“It was my idea,” Tony said.
“Let him talk,” Father Gagnon said.
“I …” My mind was completely blank.
“Speak up, Number Fifteen.”
“It was his idea,” I said eventually. I looked at Tony and his eyes flashed with anger. Father Gagnon turned to Tony.
“You know, I’ve been watching you for quite some time.”
“You have?”
“It’s boys like you that put everyone at risk. Like a dead rat in a well.”
Tony glared at him.
“What do we do with dead rats?”
Tony said nothing.
“We remove them so everyone can drink.” Tony and I looked at each other, uncertain about what the priest was getting at.
Father Gagnon led Tony and me to the playroom, with Sister Wesley and Brother Goulet following. When we got there the other boys were lined up around the walls, as they had been for Amocheesh’s electrocution.
“These boys put the reputation of this school at risk,” Father Gagnon said, with Sister Wesley translating. “They endangered their own lives and those of everyone in this room. They nearly brought shame to this school. On Monday, they tried to run away. Luckily Sister Camille noticed they were missing and notified us immediately. They were found before they could bring harm to themselves or any of you.
“Let this be a lesson to you all. Running away from St. Anne’s is a mortal sin. You will be punished by the Lord and here on Earth. We will find you and we will imprint on your body and soul what you have done wrong. Is that clear?”
No one said anything. The silence was as loud as a waterfall.
Sister Wesley sat Tony down in the electric chair. It had a metal frame, with the seat and back made of plywood. Brother Goulet buckled my friend’s arms into the straps, then checked their tightness. Satisfied, he began to turn the handle on the wooden box. Tony cried out. He began to squirm. He bit his lip. Brother Goulet cranked it higher. Tony’s body stiffened, fell slack, and tensed again. Brother Goulet turned it off. Tony began to cry. Sister Wesley led him away.
It was my turn. Brother Goulet sat me down. My legs didn’t reach the floor. He buckled me in.
“It won’t happen again, Brother,” I said.
“You bet it won’t.”
I held the arms of the chair as hard as I could. I looked at Brother Goulet’s hand as he turned the handle, and felt a searing jolt of pain running from my hands to my legs. I gasped. I tried to pull my arms free. I couldn’t. I could feel my legs waving in front of me. The pain lessened, then intensified like falling through ice.
It stopped.
Then another renewed jolt coursed through my body just as hard as the first time. I wiggled this way and that. My teeth had snapped together. My eyes were closed. I didn’t want to see anyone. I knew I was making a fool of myself.
All around me was burning, pulling me under. I let go and everything went black.
I woke up and looked around. No one else was in the dormitory. Everything hurt. Inside me was hot, and I felt like my blood wanted to burst out of my body. I got out of bed and went to the cabinet and pulled out my pants and shirt. They slipped from my fingers. Everything was so heavy. I picked them up again and went back to the mattress and slowly got dressed. I started down the stairs but they felt too steep. I sat down mid-step and watched the dust fluttering to the wooden floor. When I heard the bell, I went down to find everyone.
In the di
ning hall, everyone stared at me. I ignored them and went to get a bowl of porridge. I managed two bites before I threw up. I stared at the grey-tinged oats mixed with pieces of carrot on top of my bowl. Suddenly Sister Wesley was next to me. She took the bowl from my hands and put it on the floor.
“Eat it,” she said. I reached down to pick up the bowl. “No. Eat like a dog.” I stared at her, and then she slowly pushed me onto all fours. I put my head into the bowl. The smell made me gag. I tried to eat from the side of the bowl, but couldn’t reach the porridge under the vomit. I gagged. The puke was lumpy and tasted vinegary and bitter. I vomited again and fainted.
I heard the wake-up bell and I checked my underpants. Dry. What a relief. I got up and waited for the bed-wetting inspection. Then I went to the closet to get my clothes. I felt woozy. After chapel, I went down to the dining hall. I looked for Tony and Amocheesh but couldn’t see them. I stood in line for my porridge. When I got to the front of the line, the server looked at me and shook his head no.
“Porridge?” I asked.
“No. Sister Wesley’s orders.” I looked around the hall and caught sight of her across the room. She nodded at the server. He reached down and pulled up the bowl from yesterday. Inside was stale porridge with bits of puke floating on top. “You have to finish this before you can have your breakfast.”
I couldn’t believe what he had said. He glanced across the room to where Sister Wesley was watching us. He shook his head slightly as if he wanted me to know that he thought it unfair, and gave me the bowl.
I took it back to my seat. I looked at it. I wanted to vomit again. I put a spoonful in my mouth. The acrid taste made me gag. Retching, I plugged my nose and ate my first mouthful. On my second mouthful, I vomited again into my mouth. It tasted rotten and I tried not to puke. I swallowed quickly and held my stomach, trying to keep it down. I took a few breaths and bit my lip, trying not to cry. I kept eating.
I was the last one to leave the dining hall. The last mouthful took me a long time. Everyone else had gone, except Sister Wesley.
“Go,” she said. “Go to your lessons.” She looked at my bowl, then back at me. “Savage boy. You’re disgusting.”
During my morning lessons, my stomach felt like it was going to explode. The pain pushed out from deep within me. It felt like I had gotten very small, and all that was left was a wall of hurt. I asked if I could go to the infirmary, and was given permission during morning break. Nicholas escorted me. Once we left the school, we began whispering.
“Where’s Tony?” I asked.
“Still in the basement.”
“How long has he been in there?”
“Since he was electrocuted.”
“How long’s that?”
“Two days.”
“I heard there are rats down there.”
Nicholas nodded.
I began thinking about Tony trapped in the dark with rats crawling over him, on his feet and up his legs. I shuddered. “When are they letting him out?”
“I dunno.”
“Do you think he will be okay?”
“I dunno.”
“Why won’t they let him out?”
“Maybe because he was bad.”
We reached the infirmary and Nicholas walked me inside. We waited until the nurse came out from the examination room.
“Yes?” she said.
“He’s sick,” Nicholas said, gesturing at me.
“Come in,” she said.
In the infirmary there were a couple of other boys lying down underneath grey blankets.
“What’s wrong?” the nun said.
“My stomach hurts.”
“When did it start?”
Was I allowed to tell her about being made to eat the vomit? I wasn’t sure. I decided to risk it.
“Yesterday. When Sister Wesley made me eat the vomit.”
“Another one,” she said. She took my temperature and gave me some pills. I went to sleep.
That night, I awoke once all the lights were out. Hardly any light—not even from the windows. I rubbed my eyes and stared. Two yellow eyes. I reached forward and felt a muzzle. A wet nose and warm breath. My stomach stopped hurting, and a warmth spread over me. For the first time in a long while, I felt calm.
Three days later, the pain had stopped and I was free to go. I missed chapel and went straight to breakfast. I lined up for porridge. I didn’t want it—the idea of it made me want to retch. My stomach rumbled, and I tried to keep everything down. If I vomited again, it would be much worse. Maybe I would have to eat it from the floor. Sister Wesley had made other kids do that sometimes. It made me feel sick thinking about it, and I swallowed a few times. When I looked up, I saw Tony. I caught his gaze, but felt too sick to wave. He looked away. I didn’t understand.
He got his porridge and turned away from our usual table. Where was he going? I really wanted to tell him what happened. He walked to the next table and sat down next to Brandon. Him? Why him? I stared at them. Tony said something I couldn’t hear. Brandon laughed. What was he doing? I walked over.
“Hi, Tony,” I said.
“Hi,” he said. He looked at me like he was examining a shoddy piece of fur.
“Are you okay?” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Can I sit here?”
“No.”
“Oh,” I said. He began whispering something to Brandon. “Are you …” I paused.
“Am I what?”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Are you mad at me?” he said in a high-pitched, mocking voice.
“What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” he said in the same voice. Everyone at the table began to laugh.
“Eh, Number Fifteen! Get lost!” Brandon said.
I walked to the other table and sat down. I ate quickly, wiping the wetness from my eyes.
The next few months drifted by. I remember getting in trouble a lot. For some reason, I kept peeing my pants. I tried to hold it, but it leaked out. In chapel, morning lessons, afternoon lessons, doing farm work. Each time, I didn’t say anything, just sat in the wet cold and waited until Sister Wesley found out. Sometimes she beat me. Or she would take me to the playroom where all the punishments happened. We lined up to be whipped.
EIGHT
Somehow I made it to the last day of the school year and I was going home for the summer. I was in the playroom messing about with some other ten-year-old boys, waiting for the final bell. Amocheesh and I were playing cards. Sister Camille appeared in the doorway.
“Message for you, Fifteen,” she said in English. I left the cards and walked to Father Gagnon’s office. The message was a telegram that my parents were going to be a day late coming back from the bush.
The next morning I walked across the bridge. I hadn’t said much to anyone since being electrocuted and then snubbed by Tony. The words would rise up inside of me, but they always came out wrong. Or they came out and they sounded different, like someone had flown inside my body and taken my place. There was another Ed who had taken over my body. He carried on like nothing had happened.
I walked home and sat outside my house. After a couple of hours waiting, Papa came up the path holding Mary-Louise, with Mama and Alex walking behind him.
“Ed!” Alex said, and ran past Papa to meet me.
“Hi, Ed!” Papa said. He and Mama were carrying all their stuff from the canoe.
“Hi,” I said.
“Can you help us?” Papa said. I picked up his bag and gun. We walked inside.
“How are you doing, son?” Papa said.
“Fine.” I looked about the house. It looked cramped.
“You okay?” Mama asked.
“Yes,” I said and shrugged. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. Mama and Papa exchanged glances, and then Papa came over and gave me a hug. His touch felt cold.
“I’m sorry we’re late, son. We got held up. Simeon Scott in Kapiskau relayed the message to Father Gagnon.”
That night Mama cooked foods from my past. There was goose roasted on tamarack, moose meat stew with onions and blueberry jam. It was heavy and rich. I tried to eat but I wasn’t very hungry. Mama said I was too thin, so I put it in my mouth and swallowed it down. Afterwards, she asked if I wanted to show her some of the things I had learned in school, but I said I was tired and went to bed early.
Next morning, Papa woke me up before anyone else. “Let’s go fishing!” he said. “Come on. Just you and me.”
“Okay,” I said.
We walked down to the river. Papa looked at me worriedly as we walked.
“You okay?” he said.
“Yeah.”
Then he began speaking about a beaver reserve he’d heard about down south, and I tried to listen but his words ran together and wouldn’t stay in my brain. Sometimes I thought about being made to eat the vomit. Or I saw Brother Goulet’s hand on the handle of the electric chair and felt the pain shooting through my legs. I stared at the grass. Papa was asking me a question. I hadn’t heard, so I nodded.
“Ed,” he said. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing.”
He stared at me. When we got down to the water, he showed me some of the new lures that he’d made.
“What do you think, Ed?”
“Whatever.”
“What do you mean, ‘whatever’?”
“They look broken.”
“What are you taking about?”
I shrugged.
“Ed?”
“Can we go home now?”
“We’ve only just got here!”
“I’m bored. This is boring.”
“What’s boring?”
“This,” I said, pointing at the fishing line. “Everything.”
Papa shook his head. “No, we are not going home. I don’t care if you think it’s boring. Everyone needs to eat. Which means I need to fish.”
After we got home, Papa asked me to clean the fish. I took the knife and started to clean the scales but it was annoying, so I stabbed the fish in the eye. I pulled it out and did it again. Papa took the fish out of my hand.
“That’s not funny.”
“Yes, it is. It’s funny, isn’t it, Alex?”
Alex smiled and shrugged. “I guess.”
“You’ve spoiled the meat.”
Up Ghost River Page 9
