Blaire walked in with his head down and he put his hands in his pockets. He had grey socks on with a hole in the big toe on one of them. I wanted to run up and hug him. “Clarence and I think you need to lose the baby talk,” Treyton announced.
“I did not say that!” My ears started to burn.
“You did,” Treyton said.
“It’s okay,” Blaire said. “Go on.”
“Blaire,” I said. “I didn’t. I never – ”
“We also think you need to do something about your moles.”
Rather than look up and punch Treyton in the face, Blaire nodded slowly. “You’re right. They’re in the shape of the Big Dipper.”
Wah! I thought. This is the worst pizza party ever!
“Blaire,” I said. I was trying to blanket him in sorries and explanations, but he held a hand up and started talking. “I want to thank you guys. I am trying to talk better. See that? I said it. Better. I couldn’t say that a year ago.” He closed his eyes and put his hand over his chest and pressed down softly. “The new speech therapist says I just need to slow down.”
Treyton and I look at each other. Blaire was speaking perfectly.
“It’s just that…I get so excited about things…I sometimes forget to breathe and then…I make mistakes. I’m sorry if I embarrass you.”
“No,” I said and stood. “Blaire, you’re my best friend. I swear I never got embarrassed.”
He looked down and nodded.
I glared at Treyton. “This is dumb. I don’t want to play this.”
“Also,” Blaire continued. “I agree with what you said about my moles. I wasn’t born with them. They just keep happening. I can go see a doctor if you guys want.”
“No,” I said. “Just leave them. They’re not doing anything.” But I looked and Treyton was right: they did line up like the Big Dipper.
“I don’t think it would hurt, Blaire,” Treyton said. “You’re doing great with your speech stuff. See? This is a great game. Ask them about bleaching.”
My jaw dropped. I turned and was about to go after Treyton when Blaire spoke. “Okay,” he said and sat down. He started rocking back and forth and pulled his favourite He-Man, Grizzlor, close to his chest. Grizzlor had fur all over his body so he was still like a teddy bear. “I needed to hear all of that. Thanks, guys. I want to be stronger for you – and in case that spirit comes back when we float.”
I rubbed Blaire’s shoulder and sat beside him. That only took up ten cheap minutes. Another thirty dumb minutes before supper. “I’ll go next,” Treyton said. “I’m ready. Be honest. I really need you guys to give it to me. We have to get into Roy Bartleman’s parties. They’re supposed to be awesome.”
Who cared about Roy Bartleman’s dumb parties? I shook my head and made a promise to not hold back. He shut the door behind him.
“Blaire,” I said quickly. “I swear to God I never said anything bad about your speech – like how you talk.”
He put his hand on my arm. “It’s okay.”
“But I need you to know that. You and I were altar boys. I swear on the Bishop’s ring and holy catechism that I never said anything about you or your moles. You’re one of my best friends.” As I said that, I felt a shift. Something inside me. Yup. It had happened: Blaire was my new best friend. Treyton was pushed down one stair of friendship as Blaire took a step up. “In fact, you’re my best friend as of right now. How about that?”
“Cool,” he petted Grizzlor. “I believe you.”
I let out the biggest sigh of relief ever. Maybe this night could be saved.
“Treyton needs to work on his parents,” Blaire said. “They’re mean.”
I thought about it. “How?”
“When we go over there, they make us haul wood and shovel. They don’t shovel all week and it’s up to us to do their walks and two driveways. It’s cheap.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And they never turn on the heat in their basement when we sleep over.”
He nodded. “They suck.”
Just the way he said it, I saw the little boy inside of him. “Yeah,” I smiled. “They suck. They also never really talk to us like the way your folks do. They don’t cook for us and all we get is Tang – that we have to mix – and a half-bag of Cheezies.”
“Always,” he said.
“Okay,” I said. “That’s good. Can we eat?”
“Should we tell him about the noises?” He looked up at me.
“What noises?”
“You know,” Blaire said. “When he eats.”
It didn’t happen often but when Treyton drank he’d make these puppy noises, like when they’re hungry, or when we ate something really hot. He’d make this noise like a runt puppy.
I sighed. “I don’t know, Blaire. I don’t think he knows he does that.”
“But isn’t this game about making us stronger?” He grinned. It was an ugly grin. A revenge grin. And it was reaching out to me to join in, like that spirit in the sky inviting them to fly up and up.
“Wait,” I said and there was a knock on the door.
“Can I come in?” Treyton asked as he walked into the room.
“Yeah,” Blaire said.
Treyton looked at both of us and he put his hands in his pocket. His socks were pure white. His jeans were ironed and his hair was perfect. He played hockey and was getting muscles. I had a sense that we’d lose him to the cool kids the second we walked into PWK. It would only be Blaire and me and our He-Man wars and pizza parties.
“What did you guys talk about?” Treyton looked directly at both of us. He was ready.
“You tell him,” Blaire said to me.
I took a big breath. I didn’t feel bad about his parents, but I wasn’t so sure about the puppy noises. “Trey,” I said and took a big breath, “Blaire and I both agree that your parents could try harder…with us.”
“How’d you mean?”
“Well,” I said. “They make us work hard when we go over there with shovelling and hauling wood.”
“You guys don’t even come over anymore,” he said.
Blaire held up his hand to show we were still talking. “They also didn’t turn on the heat when we slept over,” I said.
“I hate my mom,” Trey said coldly.
Blaire and I hissed when we heard it.
“What?”
“She’s a pig. My dad totally bows down to her. I made up my mind today that I hate them both. I can’t wait to leave this town.”
“Trey,” I said and made my way towards him but he stepped back.
“What else?” he asked. His cheeks flared red.
“Treyton,” Blaire said. “We’re sorry.”
“No,” he said. “What else?”
I looked to Blaire to ease off about the puppy noises.
“Clarence said you also make puppy noises when you eat,” Blaire said quickly.
“What?” he said. “When?”
“Clarence said when you eat something you like or in gym when you down water.”
“Take it easy,” he said. “What do they sound like?”
Blaire looked at me. “Do your impression.”
I burst out laughing out of shock. “I’m not…Blaire…I did not say…”
Blaire started laughing, too.
Treyton looked at us with puppy eyes. “Are you guys kidding me?”
“Yeah,” Blaire said. “We were just kidding. You don’t make puppy sounds.”
Oh man! I let out another sigh. This was not the time to talk about it after what he said about his parents.
Blaire and Treyton both looked at me. “Okay, Clarence. Now it’s your turn.”
I looked at both of them and realized that this was it: this was my moment. I took a second to memorize them the way they were now and tonight. Treyton was getti
ng muscles and Blaire was getting peach fuzz. I’d known them since kindergarten. Some grades I couldn’t remember but I had all our class photos tacked to my wall. I looked at them every night before bed. I squinted out of my left eye to cover up Brutus, who always pushed everyone out of the way so he could stand right next to me.
“Go easy,” I smirked but they weren’t smiling. They were already thinking. They better not say anything about me being Indian. If they did, I’d never forgive them because of what I did to Brutus. I winced when I thought of how I’d betrayed him to be here.
I grimaced and took Beast Man with me. His whip was cheap so I always had He-Man’s battle-axe as his weapon. I held him like a teddy bear and closed the door behind me. It was February – the coldest month in Smith – and the cement floor downstairs was freezing so I decided to walk upstairs. I could smell the pizzas in the oven and Mr. Sparrow was upstairs reading, listening to the radio. Country and Western was on and he was a huge reader of Westerns. I could smell the pizzas baking in the oven. My mouth started to water.
“Hi, Mr. Sparrow,” I said.
He looked up and smiled. “Hey, Clarence. What are you guys doing downstairs? You’re all so quiet.”
My face started to burn. “It’s a new game.”
“Oh.” He put his book down. “I hope it’s fun.”
I shrugged and looked out the window. It was still coming down sideways and wet. A truck and van drove by with mattresses of snow on top of them. I had a flash of asking Mr. Sparrow to drive me home, but that pizza smelled so good. Maybe I could eat and then go home if things got stupider.
“So your folks are at the hand games and drum dance, hey?” Mr. Sparrow asked.
I felt my stomach sink. “I’m not sure.”
He looked at me. “I may head out there later.”
I nodded.
“It’s amazing how Smith changed ever since we hosted the sundance out at the Fox Holes, hey?” he asked.
I nodded again. I had seen Mr. Sparrow at the community meeting years ago when it was announced the sundance was coming to town. Mr. Sparrow was Native. I wasn’t sure which kind, but it felt good to see someone so proud of it.
“Remember that guy who came to the meeting and he was making fun of the pipe carrier?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Spotted Eagle sure told him off, hey?”
A medicine man from the south named Spotted Eagle said he had a dream – a vision, in which a tree told him that this was the place: the people were hurting and Fort Smith was to host a sundance for four years every August to help heal our community.
“Who is this guy who thinks he can bring a ceremony from the south here?” one guy asked at our table.
“This isn’t our way,” an old trapper said.
“But what is our way?” Mr. Sparrow stood and said. “We have new poisons in our community. Crack, crystal meth, pills. If this promotes healing and getting us to remember who we are with the church and without it, I say we host our guests who are on their way.”
And a lot of people cheered.
Spotted Eagle was there in our town. He had had long white hair. He didn’t look Aboriginal but he had a nose that was sharp. I bet it could cut butter. He had a choker on and a belt with blue stones. He was carrying a peace pipe that had a feather tied to it.
He was about to speak and address the crowd when a drunk man walked in. “Hey, Chief,” he said. “I wanna be a pipe carrier, too. How do you greedy Treaties do it?”
“My friend,” the man said. “When you can hold a mountain in one hand and a forest in the other, then you’re starting to understand the responsibility –”
“Ah, shut up,” he said. “Show me one Indian who isn’t Catholic. You should all be grateful for the church, you dirty Indians.”
Two of the men who work for the town pushed the drunk man out and that’s when my folks said I should go. Brutus was with me and we left to play in our tree fort.
“Yeah, I remember,” I said.
“Well, look,” Mr. Sparrow said. “Now there’s Cree and Chip being taught at the Early Start. Smith is doing great at the hand games. We got drum practice every Wednesday at the Friendship Centre. That sundance woke us up and got us to remember who we are with and without the church.” He paused and looked at me. “I guess we’re all children of the sundance now.”
I nodded. That was a new phrase everyone said: “with or without the church.” It was respectful, kind of like the Saturday Night Request Show. Before when Native men used to call in and they’d be drinking, they’d say, “I had a hard life you know…I had a hard life,” before they made their request or “requess” as they said. But now, after the sundance came, they all say, “I’m on my healing journey, hey…I’m on my healing journey.” Me and my mom would always laugh when they said it. “Boyyyyyy,” we’d say together and my dad would shake his head.
I remember the first year, after we went to witness the sundance, we drove out as a family. My parents held hands and walked towards the tree. I got shy about it and asked if I could help out with serving the elders. I could see a tree far off wrapped in blankets of colour. It looked like a huge butterfly in blues and reds, yellows and greens. The whistles. I think it was eagle whistles were going on and on. I wasn’t exactly scared. I was just…respectful of it.
That night, after we got home, Mom made Dad a beautiful sheath for his hunting knife out of moosehide and she even did some beadwork on it. I don’t know where he keeps it, but you can bet it’s his most prized possession.
I looked around the Sparrow home. When I got older, I wanted a home just like this: it looked normal on the outside, but inside it was like a log home. There were books everywhere and the radio was always on. Maybe that was why Blaire read so much. His dad liked Zane Grey and had many bookshelves to hold hundreds of Western books. When I got older, I was going to have a house like that: filled with everything I loved.
“You know,” Mr. Sparrow said, “Beth and I give thanks every day you guys take such great care of Blaire. He sure had a rough go until you two came along. This town is not kind if you have a speech impediment.”
I nodded. “Blaire’s fun.”
“He’s our pride and joy,” he smiled and got up. “Want some milk?”
“Yes, please,” I beamed.
I looked on the wall. There were pictures of Blaire from when he was a baby all the way up until now. Every Christmas, it seemed, they’d get a family portrait at the Northern. I studied the ones taken recently and you could see his moles spreading along his jaw. I shook my head. It wasn’t his fault.
I heard the freezer door close and the glasses being set up.
“Where’s Mrs. Sparrow?” I asked politely. The house seemed quiet.
“Oh,” he said. “Prayer group. It’s a sad story but one of the town drunks froze to death out by the airport.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I heard about that.”
“Strange. He must have been on a blackout and thought he was walking home.”
I shivered about this because the last time we all tried to astral project, Treyton and Blaire both said the spirit above them grabbed and carried them both to a patch of forest by the airport, before the trailer park and there was a man face up with ice in his mouth. His eyes were gone cuz of the ravens. And two days later we all learned of the body being discovered.
Spooky! I realized my hands were freezing and I could hear talking downstairs through the vents. I leaned closer to listen but it was muffled.
“I like your hat,” Mr. Sparrow pointed with his lips towards the closet where I’d hung it up. “Is it muskrat?”
“Yeah,” I said. Brutus’s mom, Mercy, gave it to me for her last Christmas.
“I had a hat like that once,” he walked back into the living room. “The last time I wore it I just about froze to death.”
“What?”
I took a sip of the milk and it was ice cold and sweet. Perfect!
“Yup,” he continued. “I was on a sled when I was a kid. We were outside of Fort Res. I wanted to be a big kid and I kept saying I could hold on for the forty-minute skidoo ride back. Well, they trusted me and that was a mistake. I got bumped off about halfway there and they kept going. Nobody knew I had fallen off. It was a community hunt. Caribou. I wasn’t dressed properly and, you know, looking back, when you freeze to death, you get sleepy and warm. It’s so peaceful. It’s actually the easiest thing to let go and surrender.”
I put the drink down. I felt bad we were talking like this. The funeral would be Sunday. Maybe that man’s spirit was listening. What was sad was he was blind. Maybe that dark spirit floated above him as he walked alone, leading him to his very last footsteps.
“Wanna know how I beat it?” he asked me.
I could hear yelling in the basement but I wasn’t sure if it was Blaire or Treyton. Why were they yelling?
“My great-aunt had just passed and she kept yelling at me from the spirit world to wake up or I’d die. She actually – no word of a lie – pushed me up and helped me walk.
“Wow,” I said. “How old were you?”
“The exact age you are now. Hey, can you ask Brutus to call me? We’re out of fish and I want to place an order with his dad.”
I grimaced and looked out the window. “Sure.”
“It must be tough without his mom, hey?”
That was a horrible day when I did what I did. I finally worked up my courage to go out for fries and gravy and coffee with Treyton and Blaire at the Corkscrew restaurant. I knew Brutus would be looking for me and so did Treyton and Blaire. “Look,” Treyton said. “Brutus and his family: they’re pretty chiefy, hey?”
They lived out in Indian Village. They had a shack for a house and a dog team out back. “So?”
“He and I don’t get along. Never did. Blaire and I think it’s time you make a choice.”
Blaire nodded.
I sat up. “What choice?”
“Well,” Treyton said. “You have to choose. If he comes here, prove to us that we’re number one in your book.”
“We can tell when you hang with him,” Blaire said.
Godless But Loyal To Heaven Page 5