by Orca Various
I may be wrong about some of this but trust me—hot per suit is important. They must of said it 1000 times. The police sarjent was with them on this. She nodded her head every time.
Katy solved the problem by saying she drove me here because I wanted to come and that wasnt hot per suit or cold per suit or any other kind of per suit and anyway I saved the babys life so go home you bully. Thats what she called Brady or Alex. A bully.
Brady or Alex put on her coat and hat and stomped over to where I was sitting. She leaned down—close enuff for me to smell her gum. Peppermint.
I still dont trust you she told me. You could be a terrorist.
A terrorist? said the young Canadian customs officer—the 1 who looks like Superman. Thats ridiculous! he said.
Katy laffed. Brady or Alex left the station. Her uniform boots made for good stomping. I never did find out her name.
That was a bit ago. Now its so late its early. Im not going back to America tonite but I am still in trouble. The older Canadian customs officer wants me to show Im a citizen even tho I dont have a pass port.
In case the Americans come back with proofs of there own he says. I have some questions for you—Canadian questions. Theyll only take a minit. You can answer them eh?
Hes got white hair and a great voice. If the other officer is Superman this 1 is like that guy who plays God in the movies.
Uhh I say.
Lets begin with an easy 1. Do you know whos the prime minister? he asks me.
No. Oh no wait. That guy I say. With the glasses and the funny hair. I saw him shaking hands with Aiden Tween on TV.
Katys back from a smoke. She hears this and laffs. She thinks Im pretty funny.
Sorry I say to the old officer.
Well do you know any capitals? he asks me.
Washington DC I say rite away. And Beijing.
I can even spell it. I did a project on Beijing for school because Mr Wing is from there. The old guy frowns at me.
No he says.
What—they changed it? I say.
I mean our capitals he says.
Hes shorter than the Superman guy but hes the boss. His uniform has things on the sholders to show hes important.
Oh yeah. Sorry I say. I remember now. Ottawa is our capital. Mom goes there sometimes. Its in Ontario I say.
Any more?
We have more capitals?
He looks out the window.
I know eh? I say. Sorry Im so stupid.
Im afraid hes going to send me to America for not knowing stuff so I try to come up with Canadian things. I think hard.
I know Terry Fox I say. And Wayne Gretzky. And that singer—whats her name. The one who sings about the river she can skate away on. Theyre Canadian rite? And Aiden Tween but I gess every bodys herd of him. And that singer from Montreal. And the basketball player that Benj likes. And those guys who discovered gravity—no not gravity but something important. Insulation. Something like that. Some doctor thing. There Canadian. I know they are I say.
The customs boss shakes his head and lets out a long haaaaa. Not a laff. He looks more like that God actor than ever.
You shuld go home now sir says the younger officer. I can take care of Bunny here.
I feel horrible. I failed the test.
I am Canadian I call after him. Sorry but I really am.
I turn to the younger guy with the muscles and chin and the lick of hair curling over his fore head.
Dont drive me back to America I beg him.
Katy puts her hand on my arm.
Its okay Bunny she says. He believes your Canadian. His boss beleeves you. Everybody beleeves you.
But I got the questions wrong I say.
Yeah she says. Yeah you did. But its the way you did.
She heads for home. On her way out the door she yawns and shoots me with her finger. Shes pretty cool.
The Superman customs officer is going to look after me.
HIS NAME IS BROZ.
He says I can call him Joe. He sits beside me and gets out a tape recorder. He puts in a what do you call it—a cart ridge—and presses a button to turn it on.
This is customs officer Joseph Broz at 6 AM on Dec 31st he says.
He points the recorder at me and tells me to introduce myself and xplain what is going on and how I came here.
You want to know everything? I say.
Yes.
But—everything?
And speak slowly.
So I do.
My name is Bunny I say into the recorder. I am 15 and a bit—almost 16. I live at Creekside Juvenile Detention Centre. I dont know the address but it is near the train tracks in Hope Springs. That is in Ontario in Canada. I am out on a pass. My PO gave it to me. Her name is Roz. I came home for Christmas and then we drove up to my grampas cottage. I was with my brother and my cousins. My brothers name is Spencer.
I take a breath and try to think about what happened and when.
It is way easier to tell a story than it is to write it down. Last time I had to write down a story it took all day. This story only takes a little while. The police station gets noisy as cops come in and the day starts. It is still dark outside. I keep talking.
Joe is interested. He wants to know about the kid nappers. What are there names? Where are they from? What do they want? I tell him Vi and Lubor and Peter and Bojan. And the anthem. And Dusan I say but I never saw him.
Joe stops the tape.
Did your grandfather spend time in—some place? he asks. I do not recognize the name. The way he says it there is a lot of spitting in it.
I dont know I say. Is that a country?
It is now says Joe. But it wasnt when your grampa was spying. Thats what he was rite? A spy?
I gess so I say. There were pass ports and money in his wall. Those are spy things and he was hiding them. And we found a gun. My cousins think he was a spy and there pretty smart. Spencers smart for sure.
And he got the anthem says Joe. Rite? Isnt that what the SPCA kid nappers want?
I dont even know there name. SPCA—what is that? You know more than me I say.
Joes face changes. Oh he says. I thot you said the name.
No. I never herd of the SPCA.
I gess I got it wrong says Joe.
He starts the tape again. You keep talking he tells me. Finish your story while I make some phone calls.
A gust of warm air blows up from the floor. Im so tired. I culd sleep until spring. I close my eyes and feel my body melting like butter on the stove.
I do not dream.
Floating away from a street full of zombies in my new iron hat to play moon tag with my friend Akie from grade 2 until my mom calls to ask what I want on my cheese burger—thats a dream. Crazy you know? I had that exact dream last month.
So what I have now is not a dream. Its like I am sleeping and awake at the same time. I know I am in a police station in skates that pinch a bit and close that smell pretty bad. I have my head down and my eyes closed. And I hear Grampas voice. Careful Bernard he says.
It takes me back to the time we were walking near the cottage and I went after a snake that didnt run away. Well not run—it was a snake so it culdnt run. But it didnt slide away. What it did was it looped around on itself and waited. This was years ago when I was like 8 or 10. It was just me and Grampa. He pulled me away from the snake and said Careful Bernard. Then he showed me the rattles on the snakes tail and told me what they meant and we walked on.
Careful Bernard. Thats what I hear now. I wake up from my not dream with Grampas voice in my ears.
GOOD NEWS.
Joe is taking the day off work so he can drive me to Creekside.
Its not far to Creekside he says. If we leave now youll be there this afternoon.
I make sure and thank him. He says no problem. Standing up we are the same size witch means he is a skate taller than me.
Joe drives a police car xept it does not have flashing lites or a siren and it is green. Joe is like a c
op under cover—but not very far under cover. I sit in the big front seat. The sun shines in my face. There is a sheepskin rug on the drivers seat but not on mine so Joe can be warm and comfy but not me. Oh well. On the dash in front of me is a sticker of a flag I do not know.
Joe skids a bit coming out of the parking lot. It is still icy.
The clock says 7:34. Spencer will be awake. I ask Joe if I can use his cell phone to call my brother. He says no.
My phone battery is dead he says. Sorry Bunny.
We slip and slide getting onto the 401 but the hi way is clear and we go fast. Trees and fields flash past us and the tires hum and every time I look up there is another turnoff. I am thinking about how nice it will be to eat and sleep and not worry when I get back to Creekside. Especially not worry.
Worrying is hard on you. Its a voice thats always there. Worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry. You dont notice it and dont notice it and dont notice it and then you do—and you realize its been there all along. Ive been worrying ever since they grabbed me from the city hall rink. Finally I dont have to worry. Im in an almost police car on my way home. I try to shake off the voice. Worry worry worry worry.
There are snowy fields on both sides of the hi way with trees behind them. White and dark with the blu sky on top. I take a deep breath.
The clock says 10:04.
Whats that? I ask Joe. Pointing at the sticker on the dash.
Oh that is the coat of arms of—some place he says.
If I was going to try to spell the some place it would come out Pee Yan Vee Ah. Thats not the way Joe says it but I cant write down his spitting and clearing his throat sounds.
I try to say it. Pee Yan Vee Yah?
I know that name. Ive herd it befor.
Close says Joe.
The sun glints off his teeth for a second when he smiles. He really does look like Superman—or maybe an ad for beer or happyness.
We pass a truck and a small car.
Wait—isnt Pee Yan Vee Yah the place you asked about back at the police station? I say. You wanted to know if my grampa had been there.
I was interested he says. My mother and father were born there. Im Canadian but my background is Pee Yan Vee Yan. Theres a lot of us in Canada he says. Toronto and Montreal have big Pee Yan Vee Yan communities. And Winnipeg.
Sure I say.
The next sine is for a gas station. Joe puts on his turn signal. Were running low he says. And Im hungry. Do you want a sandwich?
Sure I say.
There are 4 gas tanks under a tall roof. Joe gets out and rolls his sholders to make them looser. I stay in and yawn. When I stretch my left hand touches the rug on Joe’s seat. Its fur not sheepskin. Huh.
The country side is bumpy like the blankets when you get out of bed. The sun is above the trees. Its a winter sun—more white than yellow. Its trying to warm you up but it cant.
Joe goes into the Tim Hortons next door. He has his phone up to his ear and he is shaking his head. I check the driver rug. It is fur all rite—an entire animal. The hind legs hang down in front and the head stretches over the back of the seat under the head rest.
A wolf.
WEIRD EH?
All the wolf stuff. I can hear the worry voice in my head. No reason for this since my adventure is over and I am on my way home. But I dont like the idea of killing a wolf and skinning him and sitting on him. Whether hes your grampa or not doesnt matter. Its not cool. And thats not the only thing. Joe was lying about his phone. He said it wasnt working and it is. Is there anything else hes lying about?
Worry worry worry worry worry.
Joe drives away with a jerk and eats his sandwich in chomps. His cheeks are smoother than Dads. They move all the time—even after he finishes eating. He taps the steering wheel. Dad would tell him to chill. He says that to Mom a lot. It is his way of saying to take it easy.
We pass a sine that says TORONTO 113.
Do you know the way to Creekside? Joe asks me.
No I say. Sorry.
My sandwich is meat and cheese like Joes. And mustard. Its pretty good.
But do you know where it is?
Not really.
He nods like he is pleased.
No problem he says. I do. You relax for a while.
Joe is driving me and getting me lunch but he wont let me use his phone. So he is being nice to me but he is also not being nice to me. That doesnt make sense. Something else is going on.
I finish my sandwich and milk. The numbers on the sines get smaller and smaller. Toronto 78. Toronto 56. Joe doesnt talk and nether do I. I close my eyes. I feel like I am waiting for a balloon to pop. Something is about to happen. I know it. I just know it.
Worry worry worry worry worry.
I open my eyes. Close them. Open them again. Nothing happens. We keep driving.
So much for what I know.
The road gets wider. 3 lanes then 4 then a hole bunch. Ive been here befor. We pass a mall with a gas station and a dollar store and a Happy New Year banner. The road bends and the land falls away so I get a wide view of the lake on my left. It goes all the way to the horizon and there is ice a long way out. The sun bounces off it. The clock ticks from 12:23 to 12:24. Theres lots of cars on the road and they are going fast.
Joe puts on his turn signal and swoops over. We are off the 401 but where are we?
Is this how you get to Creekside? I ask.
It isnt how the bus took me there from the court house in Toronto. And its not how mom and dad took me home last week.
Joes hair shines with whatever he puts in it.
We are going to stop for a moment on our way to Creekside he says. I have to drop something off.
Oh I say.
We turn and turn again and drive down a twisty street. We are in the middle of a lot of houses and all of them look the same. Same front window and porch. Same roof with 2 pointy bits facing the street. Same little tree on the front lawn—maybe even the same kind of tree. Same drive way with the snow cleared away and piled up. Same garage with the house number on the front. Different numbers.
We come to a stop sine but dont stop. The car going the other way honks at us. We roll slowly down the street while Joe reads the numbers.
We stop in front of the only house on the street with the drive way full of snow.
This is the place says Joe.
He zooms the engine. We skid sideways up the curb and bucket forward up the drive way and then stop.
Come inside Bunny.
Joes voice is harsher than normal. It is stretched like he is. Everything about him is tite like plastic rap on a bowl.
Just for a bit he says.
I dont want to come inside but I have to go to the bathroom so I unbuckle my seat belt and open the car door. Joe puts his hand on my sholder and steers me up the front steps. There is a front door key in the male box.
The place smells like sickness. You know what I mean. Spencers bedroom smells like that when he has the flu. I dont know what makes the smell. Barf and swet I gess. Sheets and dirty close and pills—no maybe not pills. I take off my skates and think yuck. Its worse down the hall in the bathroom but I have to go so I try not to notice it. I do notice Grampas voice tho—it cuts thru the toilet flushing and me washing my hands.
Bernard you must hurry.
I jump enuff to splash water on my pants and socks.
Grampa? I wisper.
I cant see where he is. The meer reflects the hole bathroom but Im the only 1 there.
I turn off the water and dry my hands—and spot the geography magazine on the shelf behind the towels. I havent been to the dentist in a while so I havent seen this one. The front cover has a close up of a wolf staring into the camera. Big yellow eyes serious and sad. The headline reads WILD BUT NOT CRAZY.
That would be Grampa.
WE HAVE A BATHROOM CONVERSATION
—me and the wolf on the cover of the magazine. The toilet runs for a bit and the fan is on so nobody can hear us.
This house is dangerous for you Bernard.
Why? I ask.
The wolfs eyes gleam like they are alive when Grampa is speaking. Then they go back to paper. Gleam and fade—gleam and fade. They gleam now.
Broz is 1 of them says the wolf.
One of—
The Pee Yan Vee Yan national party he says.
He spits the name like Joe does. And like an old movy clip coming back I remember the hockey game I played back at the Newman house. A mask guy told me he was from a place that sounded like a Pee and a Vee—and so was a player for the Vancouver hockey team. I didnt know if Pee and Vee was a city or a country or what. Now I realize he was talking about Pee Yan Vee Yah. And that the Pee Yan Vee Yah guys are the kid nappers.
Lots of people are from there I say to Grampa. Just because your from Pee Yan Vee Yah doesnt mean your a kid napper. Joe is a customs officer I say.
And a lyer. He never called Creekside about you Bernard. He drove past the turnoff to get here.
Worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry.
He lyed about his phone 2 I say.
The kid nappers needed a safe place to drive you across the border says Grampa. They new where Joe works. They are a nationalist group called the SPCA.
That was the name Joe asked me about!
Hush Bernard! Speak more quietly.
Sorry I wisper.
I know the wolf stuff doesnt makes sense. I get that. Its about how much you trust Grampa. Spencer was talking about spying and who Grampa was working for. But I dont care about that. He led me to Adeline. Saving her life is the biggest and best thing Ive done in a long time. Maybe ever. Babys are more important than spy secrets. Take that James Bond. Id rather have Grampa on my side.
What shuld I do now? I ask him.
Theres a window behind you. Use it.
What?
You promised you would look after yourself Bernard. Keep your promise.