Rez Rebel

by Melanie Florence

  Chapter 29

  Where We Are

  The fish weren’t biting as well as they had been the first time Mouse and I had were out. But somehow it didn’t matter. We had a huge lunch packed and the sun was shining hotly on the backs of our necks.

  I was watching Kaya try to put a worm on her hook without

  dropping it into the lake. She was probably the least girlie girl

  I knew, but worms totally freaked her out. She always ended up screaming and throwing the wriggling thing over the side. Mouse and I spent more time laughing than actually fishing when the three of us went out.

  “So what do you think, Floyd? Any chance we’ll get Rodney today?” Mouse asked slyly.

  “Mouse! That was supposed to be a secret!” I tossed a worm at him.

  He ducked, laughing.

  “Hey! There are no secrets on the lake!” Kaya said, gently draping her worm over her hook.

  “Your worm is going to drop into the lake as soon as you cast,” I told her. “You have to actually thread it onto the hook.”

  “I can’t! I’m not a worm killer.”

  “She could use one of the sandwiches as bait instead,”

  suggested Mouse. “Maybe peanut butter and jelly.” He winked.

  The three of us had been doing things together pretty regularly since the night Mouse ran away. Fishing. Hiking in the woods. Hunting — with a camera, not a gun. Hanging out at their place. Or mine. Mouse needed me. He needed us. And we were both there for him without question. We all were.

  Mouse was thriving. I had been teaching him how to box. My Nimosôm had taught me when I was a kid. It was one of my best memories of him. He wanted me to always be able to defend myself and I wanted the same for Mouse. I figured it might make him more confident too. I’d dug out my old boxing gloves and the light bag from under some camping gear in the garage. I took the whole mess down to the community centre so I could teach Mouse some moves.

  He was actually really good. He had started showing some of the younger kids the basics and they loved him for it.

  “Been working on your jab?” I asked him.

  “Yeah, a little. More footwork lately though.”

  “Great,” I said. “I finally found that heavy bag too. We can hang that up this weekend.”

  “Cool. Kaya, maybe I can show you some moves . . . teach you how to protect yourself.”

  “I’d actually like that, little brother,” she said with a smile.

  Mouse had started high school where I was around to keep an eye on him. Charlie and Jasper had his back too. But something had changed for Mouse. He didn’t seem to need us looking out for him as much as he used to.

  Something had changed for a lot of us.

  My dad had actually listened to me. He was getting help for his depression, he was going to AA meetings regularly, and he had stepped down for a while to take care of himself. But before he did, he told the Council that I had some good ideas and that they should listen to what I had to say.

  They didn’t just listen. They let me go ahead and start a youth program at the community centre. The first thing I did was get my friends to clean it up and repaint it inside and out. We made a new sign. Word got out and kids started to come by.

  I put together some programs for them . . . sports and cultural activities. We did storytelling and worked on our Cree. We played basketball and lacrosse. I found a career counsellor to come in and talk about colleges and trade schools and funding to help us get an education. The Council finally got some funding for mental health care and helped us however they could.

  Charlie and Jasper were teaching kids how to work on cars. They also got enough kids to put a soccer team together. Amber got the girls to play soccer against the guys and they gave us quite a run for our money. Kaya came home from school on weekends now and did workshops on beading and shawl dance for the girls.

  And Mouse started teaching a regular workshop on

  cartooning. He was nervous at first but his excitement about art was contagious. His group of kids were currently working on a graphic novel about life on the reserve. I was writing some of the text. And I wasn’t the only one. I had a regular group of kids working on short stories and journals and poetry . . . it was pretty amazing.

  The community centre was finally being used by everyone, but what happened next surprised me. A lot of the activities and social events migrated down to the lake. It seemed more appropriate somehow, especially for the kids.

  A lot of us had felt alone before. But things had changed when we started these programs at the centre. Now when anyone had a problem or issue, we got together and

  talked about it around the fire. Eventually we had a regular

  meeting — a healing circle — where we could share

  anything we wanted. Nothing was off limits. We talked and we supported each other. We got together and built a sweat lodge with the elders.

  And the number of kids trying to kill themselves was

  going down.

  Hugely.

  * * *

  There was a bunch of kids hanging around the dock when we got back.

  “Catch anything?” my dad called out. He was crouched at the water’s edge, surrounded by kids.

  “Nah. They weren’t really biting today,” Kaya replied.

  “No sign of Rodney, Mouse?” he asked.

  “Mouse! Is there anyone you haven’t told?” I threw a towel at him.

  “Sorry! I thought your dad might know where he hung out.” He turned back to my dad. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re collecting water and soil samples.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re going to test them and then compare the results with samples from last year.”

  “We’re catching tadpoles too!” A little girl held up a

  container full of squirmy baby frogs.

  “I’ll help!” Mouse shoved his tackle box into my already full arms and ran after them.

  I knew that it would take more than this to fix all of our problems. But it was a good start. The kids had somewhere to go when things weren’t working at home. They had a support system. And the Council was going to start putting together programs for the adults too. My mom was helping. They were hoping to bring down the rate of suicide among the grown-ups like we had for the kids.

  We had a long way to go but I had hope. We all had hope.

  And that was a pretty good place to start.

  Dear Future Floyd,

  You’re stronger than you think. If you ever doubt yourself again, read this and remember what you accomplished.

  Hey, this is Mouse. If I ever feel down again, you should remind me that I helped.

  Signed,

  Mouse

  P.S. I couldn’t have done it without you, Mouse.

  Chapter 30

  Walking Into Our Future

  I stepped out of the cool darkness of the community centre and into the quickly fading daylight. I held a hand up to shade my eyes, squinting into the last of the late afternoon sunshine.

  Mouse looked up from where he was straightening a pair of moccasins on the ground. I nodded at him and watched as he carefully placed a notecard above the mocs. He stood up and put his hands on his back, stretching backward with a groan like an old man.

  “Almost finished,” he called out.

  “What’s left?” I asked.

  “Just the last pair at the end.” He nodded toward a shopping bag on the ground beside him.

  “You got the notecard?”

  “Yep. Give me five minutes,” he said. He grabbed the bag and headed off down the path at a run.

  I watched him go. He had worked hard for this. We both had.

  “Floyd?”

  I hadn’t heard my parents arrive. My mother gave me a tight hug. My father held out his hand, which I s
hook.

  In the past that would have seemed odd: a handshake with my father. But I understood why he offered his hand now. It was his way of showing me that he respected what I was trying to do. What I had already done.

  That handshake meant a lot to me.

  “Ready?” I asked them. They both nodded.

  My mother took my arm and I led them down the path toward the lake.

  Mouse had placed pairs of moccasins on either side of the trail from the community centre all the way down to the water. It was a tribute we had come up with to remember the people our rez had lost. My parents and I were the first to walk down that moccasin trail. No one else would see it until tomorrow.

  I stopped beside a tiny pair of mocs and read the card Mouse had placed above it.

  Abigail Sitting Bear

  Abby loved to sing and dance. She had a smile that always made you smile back. She wanted to be a dancer when she grew up. Abby, we’ll miss you forever.

  Further down the path and across from Abby’s mocs was a larger pair. They were intricately beaded and well-worn from years of use — Mary’s moccasins. My mother had written the card to go with it. She knelt down and touched the beadwork on the moccasins.

  Mary Running Wolf

  Auntie Mary was a role model to everyone, a friend and healer to many, and family to me.

  Auntie Mary took care of me like I was her own and taught me everything she knew about medicine and healing.

  She was the strongest woman I know.

  — Cardinal Twofeathers

  We walked on, looking to one side of the path, then the other, following the moccasins. There was a pair of large ones that had belonged to one of my dad’s friends, another elder. A smaller pair with fur trim belonged to the mother of one of the kids I used to hang out with. We walked the long line

  of moccasins leading all the way down the lake.

  My parents walked silently beside me. They took it all in.

  I had already seen it when Mouse and I were setting it up, but I still found it pretty overwhelming. We walked slowly down the path, stopping here and there to read a card or study a pair of moccasins, until we reached the end of the trail at the water’s edge. There was one spot that had been left empty until now. Mouse was waiting and held out the shopping bag to me without a word.

  I pulled out a pair of really cool kicks, Nike running shoes that Aaron had bought about a week before he died. The soles were only lightly scuffed. The blue and orange colours were unmarred by dirt. Aaron had been so proud of those sneakers. It seemed right somehow to display them for Aaron instead of a pair of mocs.

  I leaned down and put Aaron’s shoes carefully on the edge of the trail. They would sit underneath the card that Mouse had placed there earlier. It was the only card I had written myself.

  Aaron

  My friend.

  My brother.

  In this world and the next.

  Truly the best of men.

  I stood above those words and felt lonelier than I had ever felt in my life. Then my father slipped his arm over my shoulders and reminded me that I wasn’t alone.

  About the Author

  MELANIE FLORENCE is a writer of Cree and Scottish heritage based in Toronto. She was close to her grandfather as a child, a relationship that sparked her interest in writing about Aboriginal themes and characters. She is the author of Righting Canada’s Wrongs: Residential Schools, which was named an OLA Best Bet for Young Adult Non-Fiction and a CCBC Best Book for Kids and Teens. Melanie’s other books include the teen novels The Missing, One Night, and Rez Runaway, the picture book Missing Nimama, which won the TD Canadian Children’s Literature Award, and the Recordbooks title Jordin Tootoo: The Highs and Lows in the Journey of the First Inuk to Play in the NHL, chosen as an Honor Book by The American Indian Library Association.

  Copyright © 2017 Melanie Florence

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  James Lorimer & Company Ltd., Publishers acknowledges the support of the Ontario Arts Council. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund for our publishing activities. We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts which last year invested $24.3 million in writing and publishing throughout Canada. We acknowledge the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Media Development Corporation’s Ontario Book Initiative.

  We acknowledge the [financial] support of the Government of Canada.

  Nous reconnaissons l’appui [financier] du gouvernement du Canada.

  Cover design: Tyler Cleroux

  Cover images: Shutterstock

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Florence, Melanie, author

  Rez rebel / Melanie Florence.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4594-1199-9 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-4594-1201-9 (epub)

  I. Title.

  PS8611.L668R485 2017 jC813’.6 C2016-906042-X

  C2016-906043-8

  This digital edition first published in 2017 as 978-1-4594-1201-9

  Originally published in 2017 as 978-1-4594-1199-9

  James Lorimer & Company Ltd., Publishers

  117 Peter Street, Suite 304

  Toronto, ON, Canada

  M5V 0M3

  www.lorimer.ca