My Name Is Not Easy (10 page)

Chickie looked out the window, too. Th

e moonlight was

shining on the yellow-leaved birch trees outside, making them twinkle and dance in the wind. For a fraction of a second, it got so quiet, Chickie swore she could even hear the sound those leaves were making.

Sonny felt a sudden chill in the air and looked around. Most of the other kids were still busy shoveling their mouths full of food, hungry after a long day of missing home. Th ose two

35

my name is n ot easy final text_.indd Sec1:35

18/07/2011 8:25 PM

M Y N A M E I S N O T E A S Y

Eskimo brothers were talking together in their own language.

Sonny watched them closely, trying to fi gure out what they were talking about.

“Horse meat!” the bigger one muttered, unaccountably.

Horse meat.
An English word nobody ever used, laced into an Iñupiaq sentence. Weird.

Before Sonny even had a chance to fi gure it out, the whole room went dead quiet, and everyone looked up, as if by instinct. Th

at old priest was striding toward the Eskimo table, black as a storm cloud, shaking the whole place into an electric silence. He stopped right next to those two brothers and towered over them, tapping his hand with a ruler.

Some of the other kids might have wondered why he

needed a ruler at dinnertime, but Sonny already knew, and so did Amiq. Th

e two of them eyed each other without meaning

to.

Checkmate,
Sonny thought, watching Father and ducking his head. Even without looking he could feel Father, standing there like a big black bishop in a game of his own—a bigger, meaner game.

And then the only sound in the whole room was the sound that ruler made, smacking that kid’s hand. Hard.

Sonny still didn’t look. No one looked. Th

ey all sat there

leaning into each other, one body of kids with a whole lot of dark, averted eyes.

Th

at Amiq should have warned his kids about Father,
Sonny thought, glancing sideways at Amiq.
He should have told them.

36

my name is n ot easy final text_.indd Sec1:36

18/07/2011 8:25 PM

How Hunters Survive

SEPTEMBER 7, 1960

LUKE

—

It’s still dark outside, like this is the kind of place that’s always gonna be dark. And I can’t sleep.

All I can hear is the sound of other boys breathing. I think maybe I hear the whole place breathing—every last one of them. Nuns and priests, girls and Indians, all of them fast asleep. Bunna looks tense, even in his sleep, clutching Isaac’s toy gun. He didn’t think I noticed that he had it, but I did.

Some of the younger kids are making little hiccupping noises, hunched into their blankets, trying not to let anyone hear them crying.

I wonder if Isaac’s asleep now, too, wherever they took him. I try real hard to imagine him sleeping—snoring soft with that twitchy little sleep smile he gets. But no matter how hard I try, all I can see is his tear-streaked face, pressed up against the black window of that car, disappearing into tree-shaped shadows.

I stare up at the ceiling, wishing a person could go from
37

my name is n ot easy final text_.indd Sec1:37

18/07/2011 8:25 PM

M Y N A M E I S N O T E A S Y

one place to another, just like that. I’d make myself go from this lonely bed at Sacred Heart School to my own bed back home, curled up with my brothers—both of them.

I have never in my whole life been spanked, and I’m wondering what’s so bad about Iñupiaq that they have to make your hand sting for speaking it. I can still feel those Iñupiaq words, warming the back of my throat, only now it feels like the sounds got twisted around somehow
.
Like if I try to say a word, it’s gonna come out bent.

But I know for sure what I gotta do now. I lean over the side of the bunk and shake Bunna hard.

“Bunna. Wake up. It’s time,” I say real soft.

“Time for what?” he asks, his voice loud and groggy.

“Shhh. Time to go home.”

“Where’s our stuff ?” He’s wide awake now, whispering.

“We don’t need stuff .”

“I’m taking Isaac’s gun,” he says, his voice rising a bit.

Isaac’s toy gun is on the bed, next to him. He slept with it, I just realized.

“Go ahead,” I say. “Take it.”

Outside it’s dark, but there’s a moon slung low, and the dirt road that leads away from the school is lit with a shadowy light. It’s the same road that priest drove down when he took Isaac away, his car spitting stones and dust. At the end of that road is the highway that leads north to Fairbanks and south to Anchorage. If we can fi nd Isaac and hitchhike north to Fairbanks—and then get a message to Uncle Joe somehow—we can get home. Uncle Joe has a friend who fl ies planes.

38

my name is n ot easy final text_.indd Sec1:38

18/07/2011 8:25 PM

H O W H U N T E R S S U R V I V E / L u k e

“I’m hungry,” Bunna says. “We oughtta eat fi rst.”

“Eat what? Horse soup?”

Th

is shuts him up.

We’re coming up on the place where the school road turns out onto the highway. Th

ere’s a cabin on the corner there and

it has its lights on.

“Wait here,” I tell Bunna, but he don’t listen. He follows right behind me like a shadow.

“What the heck you doing?” he asks.

“We gotta fi nd Isaac. Maybe this is where they’re keeping him. Stay low.”

We sneak up to the window of that cabin and peek in.

Part of me already knows we aren’t going to fi nd our brother in there. Th

e other part is desperate enough to look any-

where.

Inside is an old Indian man sitting there, all alone, wearing dirty brown coveralls, staring at his stove and drinking coff ee. He’s got his back to us, and the hair on the back of his head looks matted, like he just woke up. He looks mean, even from behind. When he stands up, I duck down quick, my heart pounding. Now what?

I think about my grandpa’s uncles, killing all them Indians, but I don’t feel that brave. All I feel is a sudden need to get off that road and out of sight.

“We gotta cut through the woods behind,” I whisper.