Teresa Wouters

Prologue – School’s Out

WHAT’S AN ULCER? Lily Soo-wanee-quay remembered asking her mom as they stood in the rain. The grey clouds floated low in the sky; a cold wind chilled her skin.

A car drizzled by them on the highway. Her mom held two bulging plastic grocery bags in her left hand. She held the other arm out with her thumb up, pleading for a ride. Her black hair drenched. Hitchhiking is how they got to the town of Wallaton. Then they walked to get to the doctor’s office. Then mom bought Lily an ice cream. Then they stopped at the grocery store. Now they stood on the side of the highway, trying to get back to Nune’che’win, their own community.

Never mind, her mom had said. You only get that when you drink too much.

Lily didn’t dare tell her mom about when she had snuck that one tiny sip of vodka from her auntie’s glass. It had made her whole face pucker and her throat burned. It was gross.

Doctor said a nine-year-old shouldn’t have an ulcer.

Then what made her stomach twist up inside?

Lily glanced grey and brown fur in the tall weeds. A puppy! Like a superhero, she hurled herself over a bent clump of dried brown spotted knapweed.

The puppy lay stiff. Its fur matted wet from the rain. Its legs straight. Its eye shut tight like it was clamping out the pain. Its jaw crooked, its tongue lulled out.

“I will fix you.” Lily wanted the puppy to wake up.

She flipped it over.

A patch of white wormy maggots slithered and scrambled over each other. Desperate for rotting flesh. No eye on this side. Just a hollow empty soul.

Nobody likes me, everybody hates me.

I’m gonna eat some worms.

Another grey rainy day. Like maggots, students squirmed and slithered along, pushing Lily with the mob. Lost. Confused. Drowning in a sea of dark bodies that stunk of stale gym sweat, Lily tried to keep on her feet. Someone yanked one of her braids. There was that sharp stomach twist again. As they jostled to get on the yellow school bus, rain turned its dusty sides into weeping, dripping mud.

Lily looked over her shoulder and spied Jade, her fifteen-year-old sister. A lifeline. Just out of reach.

Lily pushed her body to make it past the wave of kids. Her fingertips touched warm skin.

Hold me close, Lily thought.

“Jade,” Lily cried out as she clung to her sister’s arm.

She felt Jade stiffen. She saw the embarrassed glance that Jade gave her friends.

“Sit with me?” Lily asked.

Jade gave her a quick hug then pulled away, as if to say. I’m sorry, I can’t give enough. I’m sorry I can’t give love. I’ve got no feelings to give.

Hold me close. Lily wanted to cry. Save my broken soul. “Sorry baby-girl. I’m sitting with Shayla.”

Lily felt Jade’s hands on her shoulders.

Love?

She felt the gentle guidance to a seat. The one at the front. The one behind the driver who was busy tuning his ancient transistor radio duct-taped above his side window. The radio’s voice of doom said, “-last year, the 2003 average of four to five drive-by shootings each night. Last night’s drive-by shooting resulted in -”

A grade six kid named Renay, who was just getting on the bus, heard the voice on the radio. “Aw!” He gave a coyote smile. “That was my cousins!”

Kids screaming, yelling, jeering drowned out the radio’s voice.

Lily watched the big rear-view mirror above the driver’s head. She watched through cloudy tears as Jade’s reflection made her way to the back of the bus. Kids bounced onto dark green vinyl seats.

Big fat juicy ones

Eensie, weensy, squeensy ones

I’m gonna eat some worms.

Lily curled up onto the seat. She rested her backpack on her legs, unzipped the front pocket and pulled out the photo of her oldest brother, Razor.

She hugged her backpack and stared into the photo.

“That was my uncle when he went to jail,” Renay said.

Lily peeked across the aisle to the second bench. Renay held a red binder on his lap with newspaper clippings glued onto loose-leaf paper. He flipped one of the pages and pointed to the heading while reading it: “One Killed in Nune’che’win Stabbing.”

“This was my cousin, Tyler.” Renay said to his friend, Bradley, as he pointed to another article and read: “Court Date Set for Gang Member.”

He pointed to another photo. “That's my brother. He's in jail now. See this picture? That's my house with bullet holes from a drive-by.”

Lily could hear gunshots outside her house every night as she tried to sleep.

She watched the boys staring at the photo. Renay’s friend, Bradley said, “Mom makes us sleep in the basement, so we don't get shot.”

The school bus bumped onto the pot-holed street. Kids steamed up the windows to draw pictures of faces and boobs. They drove past teens standing in a circle at the corner of the high school parking lot while cheering at a fight in the middle of the circle. Kids leaned and banged on the bus windows to watch. They yelled: “Get him!” “Kick his ass!”

Lily caught a glimpse of the kid getting beat up. It was that teenager, Danny Sunshine, with the weird lip. A lip that looked like a sausage.

Lily tried to press a wrinkle out of the photo. It had been her and Jade’s first day back to school since her brother Razor’s funeral. It had seemed like her teachers didn’t even notice or care that she missed a week. Then again, she wasn’t a regular school attendee.

The bus tires screeched to a halt. Lily grabbed at the grey steel wall in front of her to keep from falling.

Someone yelled, “Hey! Watch your driving!”

“Damned bus driver!” Renay picked himself up off the floor, “Can’t drive worth-”

Two gunshots boomed beside the bus. Lily ducked. Screams. Swears. She saw the bus driver looking out the side window. She peeked and saw a black car chasing a red car that just cut him off. An angry young man leaned out the passenger side window of the black car with a gun in his hand. The cars veered onto the highway, the black slash that cut through Nune’che’win. As the two cars roared away, the bus gears cranked and continued on as if nothing had happened. Students sat down and buzzed when they realized what was going on.

“Friggin’ Ace!” A boy raised a fist out the bus window towards the car chase.

Lily slumped into the corner and hugged her backpack to hide her shaking.

All along the school bus, students’ conversations got louder, as if trying to outdo each other in volume.

“I heard they torched the First Nation's crib.”

“Couldn't have. The Red Posse claimed they were there first.”

“What do you know?”

“They killed the Warriors' leader. My brother came back with a shot in his butt.”

Talking about gangs sickened Lily. For a week after Razor died, all her aunties and older cousins did nothing else but talk about people they knew, even other uncles and aunts, moms and dads, and brothers and sisters working for the gangs that had taken over Nune’che’win. She was sick of all the shootings, the drinking, the fights, the suicides, the murders.

Lily wanted a normal life. Like what she’d see on TV, like Malcolm in the Middle, or even the reruns of The Brady Bunch. How come they never showed First Nations families like those on TV? She knew plenty of families like that. Not all of them worked for gangs.

Don’t cry.

She once wanted to be a teacher because her grade-three teacher always read to them and gave them hugs. She wanted to be like that teacher. Her stomach churned and gurgled.

Big fat juicy ones

Eensie, weensy, squeensy one

See how they wiggle and squirm!

Lily wanted to scream for silence. Her stomach stabbed her over and over. She curled up, leaning against the cold metal wall. In the palms of her hands, she cradled the photo of Razor, her tough looking brother. In the picture, he glared at the camera with his tattooed arms wrapped around Lily who sat on his lap with her arms around his neck and her head against his chest. She felt that twisting feeling in her stomach again. It had been her nineth birthday. Her lips were stained orange from drinking orange pop. There was a bandage on her knee from when she slipped on the gravel while they played tag.

“I’ll fix you.” Razor said when he had picked her up.

A tear fell on the picture and Lily wiped it off with the hem of her t-shirt.

“Don’t!”

Lily looked across the aisle where Chrystal Ducharme, aged seven, and Mandy Laboucan, aged five, sat. The two girls held hands and stared straight ahead. Leaning over the seat, eleven-year old Bradley lunged his hand at Chrystal. Other boys laughed, jeered, and egged him on as the two girls leaned forward to get away.

“No titties there!” Bradley giggled.

Renay climbed onto his knees for a better view, “Check out the other one.”

Bradley pulled the girl's braid.

“Don’t!” Mandy yelped.

“Stop it!” Chrystal turned and slapped the boy’s arm.

Lily heard an older girl scolding the boys, “Leave them alone!”

Lily saw Renay give her his coyote smile and point at her. Bradley looked at her, leered, and hopped to the seat behind her. An arm snaked around the side of the seat and attempted to grab at Lily, but she squirmed out of the way. The arm retracted over the back of her bench with more laughter and jeers.

Stunned, Lily looked at Chrystal and Mandy. They held hands and leaned forward. Stone still. A tear ran down Chrystal’s cheek. Lily shifted forward, hugging her backpack tighter.

The boy snaked his arm over the bench again. Seeing Jade appear, startled Lily. She watched her big sister grab the boy’s arm and throw it backwards. Bradley cried out in pain.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jade bent Bradley’s fingers back. Bradley howled louder. Jade was tall and skinny, but she was strong and tough. Lily glimpsed the bus driver watching the action through his rear-view mirror and smiled while Jade scolded the boys, “Have some respect!”

She turned on Bradley with fire in her eyes, “Touch my sister again, or any of these girls, and I’ll break your fingers.”

She bent his fingers back one more time.

Bradley squirmed as he cried out, “Okay! Okay! I promise!”

Jade let go with a scorn on her face. Bradley slid back to the seat beside Renay as Jade sat down. She put an arm around Lily and swiped the tears off her little sister’s cheeks.

“Don’t let them bug you like that. You all right?”

Lily was NOT all right. She wanted off the bus. Out of Nune’che’win. Off this world!

Big fat juicy ones.

She nodded, “Yes.”

“That’s my toughie. Shake it off. Tell mom I’ll be home later. I’m going over to Shayla’s.” Jade kissed Lily’s cheek and gave her a squeeze, “Love ya, baby-girl.”

Lily watched Jade get up and glare at the boys. She lunged towards them with her fist up. The boys leaned back, going as low as they could to get away.

“I see any of you touching these girls again, I’ll pound you.” Jade lunged again.

“Yaa!” The boys cried in unison with their arms protecting their faces. They peeked over their arms. Jade sneered then sauntered back to her friends.

Bradley leaned towards Lily and imitated a demonic voice, “I'm gonna get you as soon as you get off this bus.”

His lip raised like a snarling wolf, “We all are.”

Lily battled the tears as she closed her eyes to a wall of darkness.

She felt herself going under the dark waves of her mind. Wanting to fall forever in silence.

She could hear the boys’ squealing laughter mixed with squealing brakes of the bus. Lily imagined floating in darkness. No world around her. Nothing to see or hear. Just peace.

“You gettin’ off?”

Lily opened her eyes and looked up. The driver’s left arm rested on top of the big steering wheel as he leaned towards Lily. He stared at her. “Your stop.”

Lily tried to look over her shoulder without making it appear that she was actually looking over her shoulder and got up.

“I know where she lives.” Bradley snickered.

Lily hurried down the steps while the boys taunted her with wolf calls.

The bus drove away, leaving Lily standing alone on the side of the road. Under a gray sky, the world looked so big and she felt so little. A black car glided by like a shark. She saw mean faces. A man held up a gun while he sneered at her. The car slunk away.

Nobody likes me, everybody hates me

I’m gonna eat some worms.

As soon as the car passed, she ran towards a blue bungalow, the house where she lived with her mom, her older brother, and her two older sisters. She wished the plywood wasn’t nailed to the two windows on the front of the house. Like all the houses on her block, the plywood protected windows from bullets. Most just covered gaping holes where glass once was.

If the plywood wasn’t on the windows, then maybe her mom would have been staring out, waiting for her to come home. Lily imagined walking towards the house and seeing her mom through the window with a big smile on her face. Her mom smiling and waving at her. Her mom jumping up and disappearing from the window. After a few seconds, the door opened just as Lily ascended the concrete stair. Her mom bending down, her arms wide open, so Lily could fall into them. So Lily could feel the warmth of her mother’s body against her like sunshine in the summer.

Lily climbed onto the concrete stair with her hand extended towards the doorknob. It wouldn’t open and her body banged into the door. She fished the key on the string around her neck and inserted it into the door. With her eyes still blurry with tears, she had to try twice to make it fit. The door unlocked, she pushed it open and went in.

The dim house felt cool. Lily followed the sound of Oprah’s voice towards the living room. She saw a lump of a body curled beneath a blanket on the mattress in front of the TV. On the bare floor, around the mattress, lay an empty chip bag and an empty two-litre plastic bottle.

Lily wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Mom?”

Marge Soo-wanee-quay pulled the blanket over her head. “Leave me alone baby-girl. Mommy's sleeping.”

Lily watched the TV where Oprah talked to a guest about youth suicides. The guest was a tear-stained mother pleading to stop bullying because her daughter committed suicide. An arm rose from the blanket and her mom pointed the remote control towards the screen. It switched to the APTN channel, the Aboriginal People’s Television Network. Lily recognized the Northern Cree Singers sitting around a drum. Their stick and deer-hide mallets beat against the rawhide skin stretched across the drum. It was painted with a design, but Lily couldn’t tell what it was. The drummers beat as one, like a heartbeat. Their voices wailed as one.

Lily’s shoulders drooped. She stared at the littered floor as her insides felt like a balloon that someone was stabbing to let the air out. She turned and wandered to the end of the hallway and went into the bedroom that she shared with her sister, Jade.

It had no door.

The door had been torn from its hinges when her brother was mad at Jade for stealing his bag of Cheetos. It had been a big teasing game of chase around the house until she locked herself into the bedroom. He pounded on the door. She laughed at him. He pounded again. She laughed and called him a wimp. He decided to prove that he wasn’t by breaking in. He pounded and kicked at that door until it had caved in. Mom had refused to get a new one.

The stark bedroom was divided in half. Jade’s side designed as a typical teen girl’s room: On the wall hung an autographed promotional poster of Shane Yellowbird when he sang at the community centre. She had a mattress on a box spring with the blankets all twisted up on top. Beside it stood a small four drawer wooden dresser that they got from their mom’s cousin. Make-up, a hairy brush, hairbands, and odds and ends lay strewn on the dresser’s top. On the floor sat a portable stereo with The Backstreet Boys, Beyoncé’, Brittany Spears, and Pink CDs scattered in front of it. A lot of them too scratched to play right.

The other side of the room, closest to the entrance, was Lily’s. She had a Hanna Montana poster on her wall. There wasn’t a box spring for her mattress, but that was okay because on cold winter nights, her sister didn’t mind Lily crossing over and cuddling up.

They weren’t very good at keeping the room tidy. Usually, her sister swore at her when she stepped on a Barbie or some Lego. Lily didn’t have much. She once had a favourite doll. It was a raggedy doll with light brown clothe for skin. It had black wool for hair that hung in two braids over the doll’s shoulders. She wore a brown dress, like Disney’s Pocahontas, and beaded moccasins on her oversized feet. Lily loved that doll and carried it everywhere, until she forgot it on that day of the powwow.

Lily fell onto her mattress and curled up. She hugged a fuzzy blue teddy bear and stared at her photo of Razor until she could stand it no more and sobbed. She bent her head towards the hallway, hoping that her mom heard. She cried louder. As loud as she could until the sobbing became wailing, and she couldn’t make her crying quieter no matter how hard she tried. She sniffled. She hiccupped for breath. The crying subsided.

Nobody loves me, everybody hates me.

She couldn’t hear the padding of her mom’s bare feet coming down the hall like she was hoping for. Lily hugged her teddy bear tighter. She could feel the warmth of the tears dripping off the side of her nose, making it itchy. She refused to scratch as she stared at a pink skipping rope lying on the floor. The distant television wailed the Northern Cree Singers singing, "Sad & Lonely”: "Now I'm so sad and lonely for you and I really miss you. Hey oh a, hey oh a.”

“I’m gonna eat some worms” Lily sang. Quiet. Shaking. A silent whisper.

Lily could hear the beating in unison on a drum. It got faster and faster, like a frightened heartbeat. Then Oprah’s voice cut in.