Rez Rebel

by Melanie Florence

the rusted out tractor in the front yard that had come with the place. Seriously. The previous owners, a family called Running Deer, had abandoned it when it stopped running one day. There it sat for the next eight years, until Mouse’s family moved across the rez. For some reason, they decided to leave the tractor where it sat. It had become a bit of a joke. Mouse’s father, John, often said he was going to fix it up someday and drive it to church. But as the years passed and the tractor looked more and more like the rusted skeleton of a movie monster from one of Jasper’s DVDs, it seemed less and less likely to ever happen.

  And there it was, a dry heap of metal, surrounded by grass grown waist high and starting to sink into the ground. I laughed.

  I couldn’t help it. I was picturing that heap being driven across the rez, belching smoke and scaring little kids.

  I took the front steps two at a time and knocked. I could hear music coming from inside. Pop music. I knocked harder.

  “Mouse! What the hell are you listening to, man? Turn that crap off and let me in!”

  The door opened and I looked down, reaching out to mess up Mouse’s hair in my usual greeting. But instead of Mouse’s eager, open face, an exotic — and female — one looked right back at me.

  My hand hung there between me and the face that wasn’t Mouse’s. I couldn’t seem to make my mouth close.

  I saw almond-shaped eyes, tipped up at the edges and full of laughter. I saw full ruby red lips. I couldn’t help but imagine myself kissing them. Wait a second! Where did that come from? Floyd, Jeez! Close your mouth!

  I snatched my hand back and shoved it into my pocket. The person who wasn’t Mouse leaned against the door. She looked at me with a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  Damn it! Say something, Floyd!

  She smiled at my obvious discomfort and tossed her glossy black hair.

  “Mouse! Floyd’s here!” she called back over her shoulder.

  My mouth dropped open again as she turned away, leaving me staring at an empty doorway.

  “Wha?” Oh, good. Smooth, Floyd. The most beautiful girl in the world has clearly heard stories of your cunning and intellect. And all you can manage is “wha?” This was so not how I pictured meeting the girl of my dreams. Instead of an orchestra playing, Selena Gomez was hitting a high note in the background.

  “Hey, Floyd! Are you ready? Are we meeting Charlie and Jasper? Or is it just us today? ’Cause that’s ok too. What are we doing? You said we’d go fishing. Are we fishing? I bet the fish are really biting today, dontcha think?” Mouse was bouncing around in front of me like a cartoon puppy. He was talking so fast it took every bit of concentration I had to make out what he was saying. All I could do was smile and nod. It didn’t help that I was still feeling a bit dazed.

  “We’ll be back later with lots of fish, Kaya,” Mouse said to the vision who glided back into view behind him.

  “Kaya?” I spluttered in shock. As her chocolate brown eyes settled back on me, an amused smile lit up her face. Oh God. Did I just say that out loud?

  She leaned over and gave Mouse a quick kiss on the cheek.

  I felt my face burning as she glanced at me again.

  “Have fun,” she said. Then she was gone.

  I stared at Mouse. “Kaya?” I blurted out again. “That’s your sister?”

  “Yeah. She’s back from school for the summer. Didn’t you recognize her?”

  “Mouse! The last time I saw her she was a foot shorter. She had braces and glasses and . . . that’s your sister?” Oh God.

  Shut up, Floyd!

  Mouse looked at me blankly, holding a fishing rod in one hand and a wicker creel in the other.

  I cleared my throat . . . if only to break the awkward silence. “So yeah, man . . . I hear the fish are really biting today.”

  I watched Mouse’s face light up excitedly.

  “My mom already mixed up a batch of her fish fry, just in case. I told her you were going to take me fishing soon. Are you gonna stay for supper, Floyd?”

  “Uh . . .” What the hell is wrong with me? She’s just a girl!

  I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking or my stomach from jumping around at the thought of spending a couple of hours sitting around Mouse’s place with Kaya. I saw myself making her laugh so I could see that smile again. Then I noticed Mouse

  staring. So I pulled myself out of the daydream of my James Bond–like coolness. In the daydream, I hadn’t gawked at Kaya and said “wha?” to her. I had been suave and sexy. I had made her laugh. I had smiled at her with utter coolness and won her over with my killer charm.

  Nope. I had said “wha?” I shook my head and smiled at Mouse, hoping desperately I’d get a second chance to show Kaya I wasn’t a total dork.

  “Yeah, sure, Mouse. But maybe we should catch the fish first, okay?”

  Chapter 15

  Rodney

  Mouse talked non-stop on the walk down to the lake. He talked while we were untying his Dad’s boat from the dock. He talked while I pulled the starter cord on the boat motor. And he talked while I steered us onto the lake and toward my favourite fishing spot.

  We settled into a routine easily, leaning back and casting out over the sparkling lake. The fish were biting and we were reeling them in steadily.

  “So, Floyd,” Mouse didn’t even turn away from his pole and line as he spoke. I had to admire his dedication. “What do you think the biggest fish they ever caught here was?”

  “Funny you should ask, Mouse. Haven’t you ever heard the old timers talk about Rodney?”

  “Rodney?” That got Mouse to look up for a second. “Who’s Rodney?”

  “You really don’t know who Rodney is?” I was dragging out the suspense, enjoying stringing Mouse along.

  “No.” Mouse stared at me with his mouth open.

  Man, this was going to be fun. “Dude,” I said, “I can’t believe you’ve never heard of Rodney! Rodney is the biggest trout in the lake, man! He’s the Granddaddy fish. The Great Granddaddy even. He’s the O.G.F., man! The Original Gangster Fish. I first heard about Rodney from my Nimosôm, my mom’s Dad, back in the day.”

  “Really, Floyd? Tell me!” Mouse was practically bouncing beside me. He probably would have been bouncing for real if it wouldn’t have tipped the boat.

  “Nimosôm told me that he and his dad went fishing right here when he was a kid, in this exact same spot. So they’re sitting around and shooting the breeze, right? They were

  eating sandwiches, and Nimosôm had his favourite. Ham and cheese on rye. So check this out . . . Nimosôm decides to add some of the sandwich to the hook. . . for bait.”

  “Right . . . go on, Floyd!” Mouse was hanging on my every word. Time to reel him in.

  “So they’re fishing and my Nimosôm feels this tug on his line. He looks down and feels it again. He leans over and sees something way down there, right? And all of a sudden, the line is almost pulled out of his hand!”

  “Holy cow!” Mouse was on his feet, his pole forgotten.

  “So he’s fighting with this fish, right? And his dad is

  cheering him on and slapping him on the shoulder and yelling at him

  to pull that fish in. So Nimosôm is pulling and fighting and

  trying to reel this sucker in. And it’s fighting him, man . . .

  it’s going crazy!”

  “Yeah? Then what, Floyd? What happened? Did your

  grandfather get Rodney?” Mouse was in danger of falling out of the boat. I had to lean over and grab his arm to make him sit back down before he sent us both into the water. I waited until he got himself settled and then went on.

  “So Nimosôm is fighting with Rodney, trying to reel him in. His dad is leaning over the side of the boat with a net, waiting until the fish is close enough to the surface to grab him. Nimosôm’s hands and arms are tired. But he’s still fighting. There’s no way
he’s going to give up this fish. His pole is bent almost double, that trout is so incredibly heavy, right? His shoulders are burning . . . his neck muscles are all bunched up. He’s being pulled forward over the edge of the boat, but he’s not giving up!”

  “Right . . . so what did he do, Floyd? Did he get the fish?”

  I smiled, enjoying this as much as Mouse was. “So he’s been fighting this fish for an hour. He’s exhausted and he doesn’t know if he can keep it up . . . even with his dad there, telling him what an awesome job he’s doing. So right when he doesn’t think he can fight anymore, he gives this almighty pull. It brings Rodney close enough to the surface for his Dad to reach down and get the net under him.”

  “YEAH!” Mouse punched one fist into the air, threatening to throw us overboard again. “They got him! Poor old Rodney!”

  I reached out to steady him before continuing. “Well that’s just it . . . they had him. So my Great-grandfather gets Rodney in the net and they’re screaming and hollering and they pull him in. And that sucker is HUGE! They’d never seen a lake trout that size. They’d never even heard of one that big. Nimosôm said Rodney was a hundred pounds for sure.”

  “A hundred pounds? Holy cow, Floyd! What happened?”

  I was thankful that Mouse stayed sitting down this time.

  “So they had him in the bottom of the boat. And Rodney was thrashing around all over the place. Do you have any idea how big a hundred-pound fish is, man? It was taking up so much of the boat that there was almost no room left for them! So they’re panicking because Rodney is flopping around like . . . like . . . well, like a fish out of water. They’re backing up as far as they can.

  And Rodney is jumping and flailing. And the boat is rocking.

  And with one last giant leap across the boat, Rodney hits the side and they capsize!”

  “Oh my GOD!” Mouse was on his feet again. I grabbed at him and pushed him back down before he capsized us.

  “So there they were, bobbing in the lake like a couple of loons, watching Rodney swimming away. The biggest, freakin’ lake trout ever caught and they lost him.”

  “Wow,” breathed Mouse. “They must have freaked out.”

  “Yeah. They did. But what could they do? At least both of them had seen him, so they could vouch for each other. You know? People had to believe them. They both spent the rest of their lives looking for Rodney, man. So did everyone else around here. Lots of people have seen him. A few have even had him on the hook. But no one has ever reeled him in since then.”

  I sat back and watched Mouse’s face. His mouth was hanging open and his pole still sat forgotten by his feet.

  “Wow,” Mouse breathed. “We have to catch him, Floyd! Have you ever seen him? Man, can you imagine if we got him? My dad would die, man! And Charlie and Jasper would completely lose their minds! Should we tell them? Do you think they’d want to try to get him too?” Mouse’s voice was getting louder and more excited with every word.

  I laughed. “Slow down! Your dad would definitely die, Mouse. But let’s not tell Jasper and Charlie, okay? Let’s keep this between you and me. Our secret.”

  If it was possible, Mouse’s smile got even bigger. “Okay, Floyd. I won’t tell a soul. But we totally have to come back here and find Rodney.”

  “For sure, Mouse. And we have the secret weapon.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ham and cheese on rye, man! Rodney’s favourite.”

  Mouse was still talking away about his plans to catch Rodney. But my mind was racing. I knew that storytelling was something I was good at. I had been entertaining people with stories for years — I liked the idea that I was a storyteller. Storytellers are traditionally the ones who keep our history alive. I had wanted to be a writer for as long as I could remember. And it was important to me to keep our culture alive. But maybe it didn’t have to only be through traditional storytelling. Maybe I didn’t have to just tell trickster stories or other legends to be a storyteller. Maybe I could just be a voice for us. Maybe our

  stories of the rez and how people felt — and even how

  sometimes people gave up — defined who we were just as much. Maybe the stories we were living were just as important as the ones we had already lived.

  Chapter 16

  Mouse's House

  The river gods were generous. The fish were all but jumping into the boat all afternoon. Mouse did a little dance and set the boat rocking every time he reeled one in. He never got tired of celebrating his catch. He exclaimed every time that this had to be the biggest lake trout ever caught. Except for Rodney, of course.

  “Floyd! Check this one out, man! Have you ever seen such a beauty?” he would shout, as he held up his latest catch for my approval. I had seen such a beauty before. Ten minutes earlier, when he showed me the last one. But I dutifully smiled and told him how amazing each and every fish was.

  It seemed like no time had passed before Mouse’s creel was full of fat trout. I was shocked to find that we had been fishing for almost five hours. Wow. Time really did fly when you were having fun.

  “Floyd?” Mouse’s voice snapped me back into reality.

  I turned to see him hitching his very full creel over his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah, Mouse. I think we’ve got enough to feed the whole rez here.”

  Mouse laughed. I could see he was picturing everyone sitting around his mom’s kitchen, eating fish dipped in her famous fish fry. It was a recipe that she refused to share.

  I knew that every woman and quite a few men had tried to get it out of her at one time or another.

  “So I can tell my dad about Rodney, right? I mean, he

  probably already knows about him, anyway. Do you think? He’s never mentioned Rodney to me, but that doesn’t mean anything. And if he does know about Rodney, then maybe he and I can fish for him sometime. You know . . . when you can’t go out with me. That’s okay, right? You don’t mind, do you? Anyway, I bet he’s already heard of Rodney. Maybe he’s even hooked him, Floyd. Do you think so? ’Cause Dad’s a great fisherman. I bet he has.”

  Mouse kept up a steady stream of chatter as we walked back to his place. I found that I really didn’t have to contribute too much to the conversation. Just the odd “oh yeah?” and “mm hmm” kept him pretty happy.

  As I watched Mouse gesturing and laughing, I couldn’t help but think of his sister again. I had never taken much notice of her when she lived here. Why would I? She always had her nose stuck in a book. Her hair pulled into a messy ponytail with little pieces sticking up in crazy horns all over her head and her thick glasses made her look like an owl. A surprised owl if you talked to her and caught her off guard. She was nice enough, I guess. But back then when she smiled, there was so much metal in her mouth that if the sun happened to be shining and caught her braces the right way, you were almost blinded. I had never even really noticed she was a girl before. But now the braces and glasses were gone. And her hair hung like a shining curtain of ebony down her back.

  Oh my God. Did I really just think that? What is wrong with me? “A shining curtain of ebony”? Where the hell did that come from? I see a pretty girl and suddenly I’m Shakespeare?

  I felt a sharp elbow in my ribs and looked down. Mouse. Right. He has the same eyes as his sister. Oh, for crying out loud! Stop it, Floyd!

  Mouse asked, “Should we clean them all now or freeze some, Floyd?”

  “May as well clean them. There’s four of you, plus me.

  I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry! I could eat most of these trout myself, heads and all!”

  Mouse led me around the back of the house where a board was set up across a plastic garbage can. His dad was by the shed, splitting logs into kindling with an axe.

  He was singing something as he worked and shaking his butt a little. It sounded suspiciously like the song that had been

  playing when
I picked Mouse up that morning. Ah, man. I couldn’t help but relax when I visited Mouse’s place. Unlike Mouse, John was a veritable giant. But he was as easygoing as his son.

  He was quick to smile and always ready to lend a hand.

  “You boys need a hand with the cleaning?” he called out, proving my point. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  “Nah, we’re good, Dad,” answered Mouse.

  “Were they biting today?”

  “Yeah! We got some of the biggest lake trout I’ve ever seen! One of them is for sure fifteen pounds, right, Floyd?”

  I couldn’t believe how easily they spoke to each other.

  I found myself wishing my dad was more like John.

  “Maybe even twenty,” I said. I held out my hands to show how big that particular fish was.

  John smiled and walked over to clap a hand on Mouse’s shoulder. Then he turned to me. “Staying for supper, Floyd?”

  I nodded, smiling back. “I’ve just gotta call my mom first.”

  “I heard your Dad is under the weather. Why don’t you tell your mom to join us for dinner as well?”

  Under the weather. Right. Apparently that was code for stressed out and planning meetings with movie stars. “I will. Thanks, John.”

  Mouse grabbed the biggest fish from the creel and slapped it down on the board, picking up a sharp knife in his other hand.

  In one quick motion, he slit the belly of the fish open and pulled the guts out of it. Then he passed it over to me to fillet. We were a good team and had all of the fish cleaned and filleted in no time. My stomach was growling and I could almost taste dinner already as John took the catch in to Raynetta to prepare.

  “We better get cleaned up, Mouse.” I led the way into the house and went into the bathroom. Mouse continued on to

  his bedroom at the far end of the hall. That was likely where Kaya’s bedroom was as well. But I couldn’t let myself go where that thought was leading.

  I soaped up my hands and arms well, washing away the clean smell of fresh fish and the scales that had flecked off and clung to my skin. I rinsed the lather away and leaned over the sink, looking at my reflection in the mirror and smoothing my hair. Then I texted my mom to let her know where I was and to pass on John’s invitation for dinner.