April Raintree (11 page)

To preoccupy my mind, I read Cheryl's essay on Riel and the Red River Insurrection. But reading her essay didn't help. Knowing the other side, the Metis side, didn't make me feel any better. It just reinforced my belief that if I could assimilate myself into white society, I wouldn't have to live this way for the rest of my life.

That afternoon, I didn't pay much attention to classwork. My mind was on my present problem. I firmly believed Mrs. DeRosier knew about my essay. I felt I had been betrayed. What could I do about it? I could think of only one thing. Come summer, I'd take off. But then I had wanted to finish school so much. I had wanted to be able to get a good job. I wanted to be rich. Oh, to heck with being rich. I'd run away anyway. Maybe to some other city so they wouldn't find me. I'd lie about my age if I had to and I'd get a job. For the moment, being free was more important than anything else in the world.

That night, I lay in bed still thinking about my soon-to-be future. Another problem came up. I had no money at all to even start out. I'd have to get some. But how? Steal it? I'd been accused of stealing already so why not? That would be justice of a sort. Oh, sure, April, and when you run out of money in the city, you can just sell your body. And what else do native girls do? By now, I knew what meant skid row. I bet all those girls who ended up on skid row just wanted freedom and peace in the first place. Just like me. I'd had good intentions about my life. But here I was, forced to go out into the world, unprepared and alone, with only Grade Ten and no money. No matter. I'd still run away. I felt such pity for myself as I thought about what I'd end up being, about having to give up my plans, about facing a hard life ahead. But staying here would be harder. I felt I had no choice.

My running away plans were discarded when rescue did come at the beginning of our spring break. It came in the form of Mr. Wendell, my new social worker. When I saw him enter the house and introduce himself, I was downright disappointed. He was short, thin, was balding, had glasses and worse, he had a meek, mild demeanor. To put it bluntly, he was no match for Mrs. DeRosier. I studied him as he exchanged preliminaries with her. Suddenly, he said, “I'd like to see where the boys slept.”

“The boys?” Mrs. DeRosier asked. She was obviously flustered by his unexpected question. I could tell and I was glad she was off-balance. But the thought that she was going to get more boys must have hit her the same time it hit me. Her face lit up and my face grew long.

“Oh, yes, Raymond and Gilbert. How are they doing now that they're on their own? I hope they're not getting into any trouble. They were such good boys when they were with us. And such hard workers. You couldn't get any better workers. I believe that hard work is good for the soul, don't you?”

“You lying, phoney hypocrite,”
I said to her in my mind.

Mrs. DeRosier led the way into the living room towards the stairs, saying, “They used to share my son's room. We moved their bunks into the storage closet for now.”

Upstairs, Mr. Wendell had a look in the storage closed and nodded without saying anything. He asked where my room was. Mrs. DeRosier took him down the hall to Maggie's room. I followed them everywhere and when she could, Mrs. DeRosier scowled at me as if trying to tell me to get back downstairs.

“I can only see one bed, Mrs. DeRosier. I understand you have a daughter. Isn't this her room?” Mr. Wendell said.

“The girls share it. The other bed was so old I've ordered a new one. It should have been here by now.” She smiled at him.

This was probably my only chance to prove what a liar Mrs. DeRosier was. I said, “My bedroom's really downstairs, at the back.”

Mrs. DeRosier said quickly, “Well, the girls have been having trouble so I moved April there but only temporarily.” She glared at me when Mr. Wendell turned to start back down.

“I've been in that room since I first came here. And so was Cheryl.” I was beyond caring about the later consequences.

“How about if you show me where your room is, April?” Mr. Wendell said to me when we were back in the kitchen. Mrs. DeRosier said nothing as Mr. Wendell looked at my belongings.

“Well, Mrs. DeRosier, I think that under the circumstances, I can only recommend that April be moved as soon as we find a new foster home for her.” He was about to say more but Mrs. DeRosier cut him off.

“And I think you can take her and get out of my house right now,” she bellowed.

“Mrs. Semple has had a very heavy case-load, otherwise I'm sure you wouldn't have been able to fool her for so long,” Mr. Wendell said to her, calmly.

He told me to get my things ready. When we started for the car, Rebel came to me. I stopped to pet him one last time. “Poor old Reb. I wish I could take you with me. Thank you for being my friend here. Bye, Rebel.” Rebel wagged his tail and as we drove off, I saw him lay down by the roadside, probably to wait for me to come back.

CHAPTER 7

Once we arrived at the Children's Aid Office, arrangements were quickly made for me to attend St. Bernadette's Academy, but they were now on their spring break. I waited the rest of that morning in the waiting area, not quite sure I wasn't dreaming all this. I would actually be going to an Academy. Rich girls went to Academies. When Mr. Wendell returned, he brought back news that increased my excitement. I was going to the Steindalls to be with Cheryl until the spring break was over. All of this excitement was inside me. Outwardly I might have smiled slightly but I was now used to keeping my feelings to myself.

When we arrived at the Steindall's place in Birds Hill, Cheryl was waiting for me on the veranda. When she saw our car pull into the driveway, she bounded off the steps and came running up to greet me. She was practically jumping up and down. I greeted her in a cool, reserved manner and that put an injured look on her face. At the time, only Cheryl and Mrs. Steindall were home. Their own daughter was away in the city for the holidays, visiting an older sister. After Mr. Wendell made sure I was settled in, he left. I had a snack while Cheryl chattered away. Mrs. Steindall seemed nice enough but she didn't attempt to join in Cheryl's questions. Cheryl seemed used to her being quiet because she wasn't at all self-conscious about what she said.

Afterward, she took me out to the barn to show me Fastbuck. As I admired the horse, she asked, “You know what I used to think about doing all the time?”

“What?”

“I used to think of riding him to the DeRosiers to rescue you from them. But then I probably would have gotten lost and I couldn't figure out how to feed and water the horse. Anyways, Mr. Steindall only gave me Fastbuck to ride, not for keeps. If I'd taken him, I'd have been a horse thief.” While I smiled, Cheryl seemed to ponder for a minute before she spoke again. “April, how come you didn't seem very glad to see me?”

“I was Cheryl. Honest. It's just that I'm used to keeping the way I feel inside of me. I've been doing that for such a long time now. It just seems it's safer not to show your feelings in front of other people. Like, if the Steindalls were mean people, or even Mr. Wendell, and they saw that we liked being together, they might try and keep us apart. Remember, DeRosier did that.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.”

After that, Cheryl and I talked every minute that we could, catching up on things we didn't say in letters. I must have made up for all the laughing I didn't do while I was living at the DeRosiers. But too soon I had to leave for school.

I finished my Grade Ten at St. Bernadette's Academy. When I'd been living at the Dions, I had known nuns and they were okay people. I was able to relax at the convent. A daily routine was followed and all the girls had chores assigned to them. It was wonderful not to have to be the only one to work. I made friends with a lot of the boarders. The only thing was that they spoke of their friends and families back home and I had no one to speak of except Cheryl. It wasn't until June that I came up with an outright lie, an excuse for being with the Children's Aid. I told my friends that my parents died in a plane crash. I didn't plan on that lie. It just came out on the spur of the moment, when I was being asked about my family. They were so sympathetic towards me that I knew I would never be able to take those words back. I credited my ability to make friends easily to the fact that none of them knew I was part Indian.

The Steindalls agreed to take me for the summer holidays. Mr. Steindall and Cheryl taught me how to ride. Sometimes, we would all go out riding, even Mrs. Steindall, who looked out of place in her pair of jeans and cowboy boots. When I became a good enough rider, Cheryl and I were allowed to go camping overnight by a small creek about four miles away. The first time, Mr. Steindall rode over in the evening and helped us set up the tent.

One night, when we were sitting in front of our small fire, Cheryl told me the things she had dreamt of when we lived together at the DeRosiers.

“Remember how I used to look at your Geography book?”

“Yeah, and daydream.”

“Well, I used to think that when Mom and Dad got better and took us back, we could move to the B.C. Rockies and live like olden-day Indians. We'd live near a lake and we'd build our own log cabin with a big fireplace. And we wouldn't have electricity probably. We'd have lots and lots of books. We'd have dogs and horses and we'd make friends with the wild animals. We'd go fishing and hunting, grow our own garden and chop our wood for winter. And we wouldn't meet people who were always trying to put us down. We'd be so happy. Do you think that would ever be possible, April?”

“It's a beautiful dream, Cheryl.” She was watching me and I didn't want her to know then that I had my own plans. I wanted to be with people, not isolated in the wilderness.

“But do you think it's possible that it could happen?”

“Maybe. Maybe our parents might start coming to see us again. But it all depends on them.” I realized that moment that I had stopped thinking of our parents as Mom and Dad and it was hard for me to refer to them as Mom and Dad now.

“I wanted to ask our social workers about them but I was too scared. I don't know why. I still think about us living out there together. When I'm feeling down, that picks me up. Mom and Dad would become real healthy again. I always think of Dad as a strong man. If he had been pure Indian, he would have been a chief or a warrior in the olden days. I'd sure like to know what kind of Indians we are. And I remember Mom was so beautiful. To me, she was like an Indian princess. And since this was only a daydream, Rebel would be with us, of course.” Cheryl's eyes sparkled. I could tell that this fantasy had meant a lot to her. It had probably helped her get over her loneliness. She looked so wistful that I knew this was not the time to tell her the truth about our parents. I felt it was more important to let her hang on to her impossible dreams. If only Cheryl would forget about them, forget that she was Metis. She was so smart that she could have made it in the white world. White people has a great respect for high intelligence. I almost wished my parents were dead.

When I first came for the summer, I'd tell Cheryl how great it was to be at the Academy. But by the end of it, Cheryl started talking about going there, too, so I changed my tune. I then told her, “You wouldn't want to leave this place and Fastbuck to go to a Convent, would you? I'm sure you wouldn't like it there. There are hours and hours of praying in the Chapel and then there's also the hours of study periods. There's hardly any sports activity. You'd be bored to death.” I didn't want Cheryl at the Academy because of the lie I had told about my parents and because I was white as far as the other girls were concerned. I wanted to keep it that way as long as I could.

“Sounds to me as if you don't want me there,” Cheryl said, tilting her head to one side.

“You know it's not that. You have it so good here. And I could probably come and visit you for holidays. Besides, I'll be finished school in two years and you still have four years to go. What would you do if you didn't like it? When I graduate, you'd be alone. If you left there, they might put you in another home like the DeRosiers'.” Cheryl shrugged and accepted my reasoning. I was greatly relieved.

Going to St. Bernadette's was good for me. I had many friends and it was easy to study and do well in my school work. On weekends, I was invited to go to other girls' homes, with Mr. Wendell's okay. I never told Cheryl about those weekends, knowing she'd probably feel slighted. Long weekends I always went to the Steindalls. I'd often wish that I had been placed as a boarder at this school long before. There were no hassles about not having a family. There was no one who made fun of my parents. Of course, that was due to the lie I had told. I might not have known a family life as I had at the Dions but I would not have known the cruelty of the DeRosiers either. I spent Christmas with the Steindalls. Perhaps Cheryl had put her family fantasy aside, because while I was there, she had something new to tell me.

“You know, April, I think that since we're going to make it, we ought to help other kids like us make it too. You know what I've been thinking? I'm going to go on to university and become a social worker. And I'm going to be one of the better social workers, just like Mr. Wendell. What about you? What are you going to be when you grow up?”

“I am almost grown up. And I haven't got a clue what I'm going to be. I used to think of being a lawyer but I'm too shy. All I know for sure is what I don't want to be. I don't want to be in anything medical, I don't want to be a teacher or a social worker. I just don't know.”

“Well, geez, April, you better start thinking about it because you only got a year and a half to go.”

True, I did have only a year and a half to go before I would graduate. But even so, I'd only be seventeen. What I wanted to do was start working and make money.