Dark Chronicles of Nooria 1

I'm usually awake by the time the alarmclock-radio comes on. I've got it timed so I get 2 songs, then news and weather. I hear 2 very haunting songs, things I always enjoy, "Copperhead Road" and "City of New Orleans."
I realize once again mother didn't make it to bed. There's one bedroom, one bed we share. Fell asleep in front of the TV again, turns itself off after 2 hours with no click on the remote.
The first 2 stories are politics, the endless round of nonsense in Ottawa. The next item, "and on the Lilac Valley Indian Reserve, another stabbing. Lyle Taypotat, age 37, died of stab wounds in the ambulance. Police are holding his common-law wife Angie Okemow, pending charges."
This hits close to home, a mile away. The announcer continues, "checking our records, this is Lilac Valley's 14th homicide so far this year. This figure leads all other reserves in Canada and even is ahead of City of Saskatoon figures for year to date."
I get out of bed, shut off the radio. I head for the outhouse, we have no running water. I put on a full kettle of water and toast 2 slices of bread. No jam or margarine left, so I spread lard.
Then I make a second batch, which I put in a bag. I make 2 travel mugs of tea. Half teaspoon of sugar in each as we're running low.
I grab my school satchel and head out the door. Sure enough, my best friend, I mean my only friend Melissa Morningchild is there.
We go around back, sit on our favorite perch, a fallen log. It's a magnificent morning, moist fresh forest air and birdsong.
Wordless I hand Melissa the toast. "Thanks Nora, you're a real pal."
After she's done eating, we sit and sip tea. I tell her of the news item.
"How it is," she says quietly, "both big drinkers."
That over, I ask her if she remembered to do her homework. She forgot arithmetic. I wait, see if she needs any help. Only once, she's getting better.
I can tell something else is on her mind, not the stabbing or homework. I just sit quiet, wait for it.
"You know," she starts, "women are real awful. Seems every one of them, like your mum or mine."
I nod. She continues, "now yours, she's without a man, what does she do? Lie on the sofa, watch TV, eat potato chips. Does she talk with you anymore?"
"Kinda lost track, think maybe a fortnight or so, she hasn't said a word."
"Or take my mum," Melissa continues, "that's what happens when you do have one of those things. Ugh. Me, see I gotta plan."
"You have?"
"Yep, just ain't gonna grow up. 16th birthday, I'll kill myself."
"And how long have you thought of that?"
"Years and years."
Not likely, she's 8. Meaning she thought of it yesterday or this morning.
"So how would you do it?"
"Bottle of aspirin."
"Lousy plan, too slowacting. Take you 2 days to die. Round here, you couldn't hide from people for 2 days."
She shrugs, "got lotsa time, think of something." She sits straighter, looks out at the lake.
"Now see that boat Old Man Merasty owns. Just go out on the lake, take the gascan and poof." More serious look, "why wait? Today."
"You can't, God forbids it."
"My uncle in the army, says Lilac Valley is proof there ain't no God. If there were, he wouldn't allow a place like this to happen. No god, I can do it now."
"You can't. You're my only friend. You die, I'd be heartbroken, kill myself too."
Suddenly she wraps her arm round me crying, "I could never do that to you. You're so kind. Help with food. Homework. Even beat up that pig Jimmy Bittern."
I wipe her face. Now she smiles, "I'll do it. Stay alive for you."
"Good, now school."

We're at the entrance when Tracy Aubichon sticks out her tongue, "Nora, you're dis-gusting. That dress been outa style for centuries. Don't you own any jeans?"
Actually not, but I don't bother talking to her. She shrugs, talks to another girl, "Cindy, don't you own any stylish jeans? That's the sort men wear, mechanics and such."
"Go soak your head," Cindy asserts. No risk of a fight. Boys fight over insults and such. Girls, one reason only, who owns a particular boy.

Melissa heads for her grade 2 class and I head for mine, grade 4.
Jerry Pichay, utter pest, bows, "my fair lady, you are a vision of loveliness in that floral dress. But your beauty outshines any flower on it. I would do anything to prove my love. I would wrestle a polar bear, if it made you happy."
I don't speak, but Mary Quewezance does, "Jerry, what feat of derring-do are you thinking of today?"
Jerry bows theatrically, takes my hand and kisses it, "my lady, we are on a medical mission of mercy. I, doctor and pilot, you, nurse. Now this strong hurricane blows us off course. Soon we're down near Antartica. We're almost outa gas, when we see this island. Too mountainous to land, we ditch in the water. Swim ashore. Wild penguins attack us. I give a judo chop like this, then one like that, soon I've knocked out all the penguins. We cuddle together for warmth and kiss."
"Jerry, kiss a penguin, I'm not interested, for the 100th time."
Good old Mary chimes right in, "Jerry would you kiss a skunk, to prove your love?"
"Certainly, be proud to."
Mary grins wickedly, "then bend over, stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass."
Everyone roars with laughter.
The teacher arrives and we settle in our desks.
"Nora Ahpay, front and center." Hands me the book. "This page to that."
I know why she always picks on me, when she doesn't feel like reading. I'm the only one in the class who can.
It's a story of a little girl in Kabul, Afghanistan, who works as a letter reader/writer in the market to support her family.
At the point a customer pays her, Bert Poundmaker stands, "dis-gusting, obscene. No one should take money for reading a letter. My uncle never charges anyone."
Teacher turns to me, "Nora, you answer that."
"Bert, you've been away a few days. Missed the story. See the little girl is all the family has. Father, put in prison. Mother and big sister, aren't allowed out of the house, this mean government called the Talibans. Little brother, still a baby. If the girl didn't get paid, they'd starve."
"Go on. Just go on welfare, like everyone else here."
"Bert, no welfare there."
"You are such a know-it-all," he rages, "whore, slut, pig, tramp. Two years from now, you'll be a prosty in Saskatoon, giving blowjobs to 60-year-old whitemen. Why you ..."
Teacher grabs Bert, "home for the day." Once he's gone, she sighs, "guess his mother forgot his medicine again today. Don't just stand around Nora, carry on reading."

Recess time, Melissa and I see a bunch of kids head out behind the trees, the glue-sniff set.
Tracy Aubichon picks the right moment when everyone is watching 2 boys get ready to fight. Pulls down her pants, moons Melissa and me.
I just laugh, "so who gave you the hickey there, Bert?"
She heads off to bug someone else.
John Powderhorn walks by, "yuck, double-yuck," suddenly he's shouting, "take that stinky Paki hole of yours back to Saskatoon. Whore. Pig. Slut."
I check where the playground supervisor teacher Mrs Merasty is. Got half a minute before she could get here. So use it.
A football linebacker would be proud. Catch him totally offguard, flatten him. I'm hammering him bigtime, when I feel the hand, "stop now."
"You John," she says grimly, "go home for the day. Three detentions, starting tomorrow." After he leaves, she says quietly, "Nora, one detention, today."

Lunch is macaroni and cheese, an orange and a milk. Melissa and I sit together as always.
Jerry Pichay brings his tray, "can I join you, fair lady?"
"Jerry what part of No don't you understand? Go hit on Mary, she likes you."
"She doesn't. Told me to kiss her ass."
"So kiss it and she'll follow you around loyally."
He leaves but sits at the next table. To no one in particular, he declares himself a knight on a white horse.
A minute later, Mary sits uninvited with him, grins, "last time we talked, you were promising to kiss my ass." Lays her hand on his, "after school, sailor, oh yeah."