I worked as slowly as I could but the exercises were too easy and eventually I had to finish. Gabriela was helping some of the remaining kids. No surprise they were all guys. They never needed help. They were just after attention. I couldn’t stand that. It wasn’t like she asked them to carry boxes or clean the board. I put my work on her desk and made my way out of the class. And she never even saw me leave.
I headed down to the locker rooms in a bad mood and, getting changed, I entered the gym. There I joined in a game of crazy football. There were no rules. We just split into two teams and dragged a medicine ball back and forth like a tug of war. You had to get the ball to the opposite end to score a goal, but nobody did. But it was a laugh and we all had a good time.
After lunch, the rest of the parents turned up. It was strange seeing my friends with their parents. I’d known some of them for years and now I was seeing them in a different light. They weren’t individuals any more, they were part of a group and they had a life after school that was more important than school. What’s more, some of the kids were like clones of their parents, which was a little freaky. And they had mothers. It must have been nice to have a mother. I mean our dad’s great. You couldn’t ask for a better dad. But it would have been nice to have a mother as well.
Anyway, once the parents had met the teachers, we made our way into the main hall to watch the school play. I don’t know what it is about school plays but they’re usually bad and they’re made even worse when you give the leading role to the Rat. She was playing Juliet from Romeo and Juliet. Not the whole play, thank God, just enough scenes to make you wish you hadn’t come.
When everyone had taken a seat, the lights were dimmed and the curtain raised. And there was the Rat standing on this imitation balcony. I started laughing straight away. She was wearing a big white dress and she had a big white cone stuck on her head. She looked like a rocket waiting to be launched into outer space. Then Romeo, Ronny Hill was his name, ran on the stage. He was wearing women’s tights with an oversized shirt and he had a big broad belt wrapped around it. He looked like a plump ballerina.
‘Oh speak again, bright angel,’ said Ronny. ‘For thou art as glorious to this night being over my head as is a winged messenger of heaven …’
But the Rat hadn’t said a word. What’s more we were supposed to know that they had met at the Capulets’ party, got drunk, and fallen in love. When Ronny had finished his lines the Rat started screaming like a banshee: ‘Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?’ What made it worse was that Romeo was standing two feet below her in plain sight. And she was staring into the audience. She looked like a bewildered blind kid. Then she started ranting like a lunatic about him denying his father, and her not wanting to be a Capulet, and doesn’t a rose smell just as sweet and all that. I’d seen the movie, but it was nowhere near as funny as this. I laughed quite a bit until I got told off. Then I had to sit there and pretend to be interested like the parents.
The curtain closed, once they were done, and when it reopened they had the scene with the sword-fight. That was the only good part. It was funny as hell because this kid, Kyle Benjamin, got hit in the eye with a wooden sword. ‘Ah my eye!’ he cried. And collapsed on the stage holding his left eye. The Montagues and the Capulets froze. This wasn’t in the script, they thought. Then Ms Mountshaft ran on the stage, ‘Come on, Kyle. The show must go on.’ She tried to get him up and fighting again, but he wasn’t having any of it. ‘I want to go home,’ he pleaded. The audience started to snigger and so, grabbing him by one leg, she dragged him away. ‘Don’t just stand there!’ she hissed. ‘Get on with it!’ The sword-fight resumed. Only this time, there was a little more aggression because the Capulets wanted to get even with the Montagues for injuring one of their men.
When Kyle came out in the next scene he had a patch over his eye. He looked like a pirate. And so the whole play turned into a swashbuckling version of Romeo and Juliet, and the better it was for it. I think they should have had a theme in the first place. Romeo and Juliet in Outer Space, or Romeo and Juliet meet Hannibal the Cannibal, something that gives it spice.
The Rat refrained from shouting in the rest of her scenes and she never forgot a single line. I could even see her whispering Romeo’s lines to him when he hesitated. The Rat has memory like RAM. But in her final scene, the one where she wakes up and finds Romeo dead, the Rat became deranged. She went absolutely crazy with sorrow and overacting. It’s so strange to see your little sister behave like that. I felt so embarrassed for her, I could feel my own face reddening. Why she didn’t stab herself I don’t know. God knows she had hold of that dagger for long enough. But eventually she held up the instrument of death. She looked at it as serious as a samurai ready to commit suicide. All of a sudden she cried out ‘Ah!’ and, plunging the dagger into her belly, she collapsed on the stage. It’s over, I thought. That’s it. But then she got up! Who stands up after stabbing themselves? I bet that wasn’t in the script. And boy did she stagger around the stage. But that was the Rat for you. Once she was in the limelight she never wanted to leave it. Finally, she hit the deck.
‘Curtain. Curtain,’ shouted Ms Mountshaft.
When the applause died down Father Henri came out to give his summer sermon. He reminded me of a convict somehow. He had closely cropped hair and his jaw was blue with shaving, but that wasn’t it. He had an aura about him: like someone who had done a life sentence in solitary confinement. I always imagined he’d been in prison in his earlier life and he’d turned to the church when he’d got out. But it probably wasn’t true.
After the sermon was over the headmaster took to the stage. He thanked the actors and the parents and everyone who’d worked in, or been to, Luxton in the last one hundred years, which is how old it was and how long his speech seemed to last. I liked the headmaster, he was fun, but he did like the sound of his own voice. Eventually we all spilled out on to the playing fields where the teachers served us free snacks and gave us presents of pencil sets.
I was sad then. I would miss the teachers and the school a great deal. It wasn’t just Gabriela, it was everyone. They were all good people. And I’d imagined my final day at Luxton being a little more of an occasion. I thought me and the guys would be standing around reminiscing about the old days. But they began to drift away quite early, as though it didn’t matter, and that made me sadder.
I couldn’t find Little Joe and so I took a stroll around the inside of the school and reminisced by myself. But then I turned a corner and saw the Rat talking to Ms Mountshaft.
‘You excelled yourself, Marie Claire. I knew you’d rise to the occasion and you did.’
‘I couldn’t have done it without you, Ms Mountshaft. You were a real inspiration.’
I wasn’t going to get involved in that and so I went back the way I’d come. I walked down the Arts and Crafts corridor and, passing a display case, I saw my little balsawood boat. I’d made it when I first came to Luxton and I hadn’t thought about it since. Most of the kids rushed to finish theirs but I took my time with mine and it won first prize. I was so proud. It’s strange how the little things can make you proud.
The Hanson girls came by and tried to get me to go into town. I’m pretty popular with the girls. Well, I am good-looking and tall for twelve. But I wasn’t up for it and so I went back to collect the Rat. But she wasn’t talking to Ms Mountshaft now. She was talking to Miss Gabriela Felipe Mendez! They both turned to look at me and I kind of froze.
‘Este es mi hermano,’ said the Rat.
I don’t believe it. The Rat could speak Spanish. That was the Rat for you. She was always sneaking off and learning something new when you weren’t looking. ‘Tu le gustas,’ said the Rat.
Gabriela laughed out loud. What had that damn Rat said?
‘El es simpático e inteligente. Y yo estoy segura de que va a ser un hombre muy guapo. Tu tienes suerte de tener un hermano asi.’ Gabriela looked at me and then back at the Rat. ‘Well, Marie Claire. I’ll see you after
the holidays. Hasta luego.’
‘Hasta la proxima, Miss Felipe Mendez.’
Gabriela walked toward me. ‘Good luck at your new school, Roberto. I’m sure you’ll do really well.’ She looked right in my eyes. ‘I just want to say, you have been a great student. It has been a pleasure to have you in my class.’
She looked really sad. I’m not kidding. I couldn’t believe how sad she looked. ‘Maybe we’ll see each other around Winnipeg,’ I said.
‘Maybe. Adios, Roberto.’
Me and the Rat said goodbye to the rest of the teachers and, wishing them a happy holiday, we made our way down to the Marlin. I waited until there was no one around before I got her in a headlock. ‘What did you say to Gabriela, you little Rat?’
‘Gabriela? Miss Felipe Mendez to you.’
‘You tell me or I’ll pull your damn head off!’
In the end she squealed. ‘I just told her …’
‘What? What?’
‘Relax, Roberto, she’s twice your age.’
‘She’s only nineteen. Now you tell me or you’re going back in the headlock!’
‘I just told her you had a crush on her. That’s all.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘And she said you were nice and intelligent and would grow up to be a good-looking guy, but you’re way too young for her.’
I dropped down in the boat. ‘You drive,’ I said.
‘It’s steer, Bob, not drive.’
Nice and intelligent. That’s what she had said, not just nice, but nice and intelligent. And good-looking as well.
‘What did you think of the play, Bob? … Bob.’
Mature even, because I’m very mature for my age. Maybe she’d let me hang out with her. And then when I’m fifteen I could ask her out. Because, when I think about it, there isn’t much difference between our ages. Dad was sixteen years older than Mom when they married. I don’t want to get ahead of myself but I’m going to that swimming pool every day over the summer holidays. I’ll go there until I see her and then … Well, I don’t know. But I’ll be there and so I’ll find out.
Gabriela filled my thoughts all the way up the two rivers. I thought about her as I tied up the Marlin and as I got on my bike. The cycle home was all a blur. All I could see was her face next to mine, and my face in her big brown eyes. I was still thinking about her as I rested my bike against the house. I never thought about what the Rat had said about the Old Man dying until I found him dead on the kitchen floor. And then I thought about nothing else.
Chapter Four
He was curled up like a child. His hair was neatly combed and he had a spatula in his hand. I was half expecting, desperately hoping, for him to jump up and say it was a joke. I would have laughed. I really would have. But he wasn’t going to. His eyes were open and the life had gone out of them. Death must have come for him when we were at school. Or on the way home from school. He looked so alive it could have come for him as I laid my bike against the house. But come for him it had. I looked around the kitchen to see what he was going to do with the spatula. But there were no signs of cooking. He looked out of place on the kitchen floor. It was such a strange place for him to be lying down. But he wasn’t lying down, he was dead.
Next thing I know the Rat was kneeling next to him. ‘Pupils are fixed and dilated. Pa’s a goner!’ She closed his eyes and kissed him on his forehead. ‘Everything’s going to be OK, Dad. We’re going to take good care of you.’ She took her cellphone from her pocket and walked up the stairs, typing a text as she went.
God could have let him live a little longer. He wasn’t doing any harm. And he wouldn’t have done any harm. All he wanted to do was look after me and the Rat. It wasn’t much to ask. But it had been taken away from him. And he had been taken away from us. ‘Oh Dad!’ I felt the tears come into my eyes.
I heard the Rat’s cellphone ring upstairs. I could hear her muffled voice and then I heard her coming down the stairs. ‘Dead as a dormouse! No, I’m fine. OK, we’ll see you soon.’ She came in the kitchen wearing her little black dress. ‘You seem upset, Bob, and so I better take care of the funeral arrangements. Now, I’ve spoken to the chief and he’s coming over with Little Joe and Mary White Cloud. I told them to pick up Harold on the way. We’ll bury Dad in his prairie garden next to Mom’s ashes, and we’ll ask the chief to perform the ceremony. We need to give him a good send-off to the other world. We don’t want his spirit hovering around here, now, do we? No, the chief will make sure he gets off all right.’
I wiped my eyes. ‘We can’t just bury him! We have to inform the proper authorities!’ But the words sounded strange when they came out.
‘Are you out of your beeping mind? We’re not telling anyone! Look, Bob, you’re bereaved! I’ve had a lot more time to think about this than you! We have no other family. They’ll put us in a home. And them homes are full of goddamn paedophiles! No, as Frank said, we’ll do it my way. You get the spades and I’ll go pick some flowers.’ She twisted on her little black shoes and went out the door.
I couldn’t understand it. The Rat wasn’t upset, not even a little bit. Maybe she was in shock. Whatever the case, I could see she was right. They could put us in a home. They could even split us up. ‘They’re not going to split us up!’ I said and stormed off to get the spades.
I followed the Rat down to the prairie garden where she stood looking at the ground. ‘Here’s a nice spot,’ she said pointing to a bare patch between the gaillardias and the Purple Cone Flowers. And he’ll be right next to Mom. You get started and I’ll move the things off the living-room rug. That’s what we’ll wrap him in.’
‘This isn’t right! Our dad deserves better than this!’
‘No, Bob. This is exactly what he would have wanted. He loved Mom and the prairies and he loved his prairie garden. It’s like burying a captain at sea. And he wouldn’t want us to be sad. So try not to upset yourself too much. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come back to the house? The chief will be here soon. He’ll help you dig.’
We made our way back to the house and sat quietly until the chief’s jeep pulled up outside. I looked out the window. Little Joe, his grandfather the chief, and Running Elk got out first. They held the door open for Harold and, following him, came Mary White Cloud, my mom’s old friend. The Rat opened the front door and they made their way inside.
‘Hey, brother,’ said Little Joe putting his hand on my shoulder. ‘I’m really sorry.’ Running Elk came in with Mary White Cloud’s rocking chair, she never went anywhere without it. ‘I’m sorry, Bob,’ said Running Elk and she sounded like she really meant it. Then Mary White Cloud came in. Mary White Cloud, who had helped deliver the Rat, never looked her seventy years. Her eyes were pale and bright and when she smiled her face glowed with warmth. ‘Hey, Bobby.’ She was the only one who ever called me that. She touched my arm and sat in her rocking chair.
The chief helped Harold take a seat and then, going in the kitchen, he knelt over Dad.
He looked at him for a few seconds and then he came back in the living room. ‘There are no signs of pain on his face. I am sure he died peacefully.’ The chief was a big man with thick grey hair that he wrapped in a ponytail. He had a hard serious face and in all the time I’d known him, I’d never heard him laugh.
‘We want to bury him in the garden next to Mom,’ said the Rat. ‘And we want you to perform the ceremony, chief.’
‘I cannot do that. There has to be an autopsy.’
‘But it’s what he wanted,’ said the Rat. ‘And it’s what we want. Isn’t it, Bob? The authorities can’t find out. If they do they’ll take us away and put us in a home.’
‘Come here, Wazhashnoons. Let me look at you,’ said Mary White Cloud. The Rat stood in front of her and Mary took hold of her hands. ‘My, how you’ve grown. How old are you now?’
‘I’ll be eleven soon.’
‘And you look more like your mother every day. Tell me child, what dreams have you had?’
‘I’v
e had many, but one keeps coming back. There’s a man and he’s surrounded by tall buildings. He tells me he’s going to look after me and he keeps me somewhere safe, like a castle, and he reads to me all the time. I don’t know why he reads to me. I can read myself.’ The Rat frowned. ‘You know who the man is, don’t you, Mary?’
Mary White Cloud looked at the chief and then back at the Rat.
‘Can we bury Dad first?’ asked the Rat.
‘You cannot bury him here,’ said the chief. ‘It’s breaking the law.’
Mary White Cloud pulled her shawl around her. ‘I remember a time when my son called them white man’s laws. He would talk about the way they used their laws to destroy his people. I can also remember him calling an autopsy a sacrilege to the dead.’
‘That was long ago, Mother,’ said the chief. ‘The words of youth.’
‘The words of youth are not always foolish. You have become so involved in the day-to-day running of the reservation. You think about what is politically correct without consulting your heart. You seem to have lost your spiritual beliefs. Even though last week I told you I heard the owl call John’s name. Even though you can see how gifted his daughter is.’
The chief shook his head. ‘I am a First Nations chief. It will reflect badly on the reservation and on the First Nations people themselves. I have responsibilities, Mother.’
‘But you have no responsibility here. This is not the reservation and the DeBilliers, while they have always been our friends, are not your people. You are held in high esteem by many, my son. Is it that which you fear losing?’
‘And what if I am prosecuted, Mother? What then?’
‘Then I will be sorry to see my son in court. But if you do not bury John according to the wishes of his children I will be ashamed.’
Unhooking the Moon Page 4