Tala pulled her knapsack out from under her bed and brushed off the thick layer of orange fur balls. What to pack wasn’t a problem for her; she’d done this so many times before with Tom and Anjij. She closed her eyes a moment to visualize her mother’s chocolate-brown eyes, the dimples that only appeared when she smiled, her long black hair dancing with the leaves in the autumn wind. She hadn’t said anything to Dason earlier, but she too sometimes had a hard time remembering her mother’s face. She wished Anjij were here, taking care of things, making everything safe for them, sitting behind Tala on her bedroom floor while she braided her hair and sang the old songs.
The memory of Anjij singing awakened the song in her. The soft drumming started deep inside of her and she let her knapsack slip to the floor, waiting for the sounds to flow out. She wasn’t sure what all the words meant, yet they always felt comforting to her, the same words her mother, her grandmother and all the other great-grandmothers had sung before her. When the song took over like that, Tala always felt Anjij was right there singing with her, that the words echoed their love for each other. At times she could even feel Anjij’s soft hair brush the side of her face.
“What’s your knapsack doing out?”
Dason had come into her room without her knowing. It was uncanny the way he moved around without anybody hearing him. Not even Thunder could glide up the creaky steps to the second floor without making a sound. Little Running Deer, Tom sometimes calls him. With his straight brown hair sticking out every which way, and those dark bright eyes always checking things out, Tala preferred to think of him as a pesky muskrat.
“I wish you’d stop sneaking up on me like that.”
“Where you going?”
“Out.”
She leaned down to grab her knapsack from the floor.
“I want to come too.”
“You can stay with Susan since you think she’s so great.”
She walked towards her closet to root out her hiking bag at the bottom of the pile of old runners, out-grown winter boots, overdue library books and broken hockey sticks.
“Tell her I’ll be back around supper time.”
“You’re going to look for Tom, aren’t you?”
“What makes you say that?” she said, turning to face him.
The pest always tried to second-guess her. For an eight-year old, he could sure get on her nerves; always butting in on her and Laura, following them around everywhere they went.
“You never take that old knapsack when you’re with Laura.”
He pushed her rumpled bed sheets aside to make room to sit. “Susan won’t let you if I tell her.”
“That’s none of her business.”
“Tom said never to go to the woods alone.”
No use trying to argue with him, the pesky rat was right. Susan would be on her case as soon as she found out what she was up to. She’d call the cops again to complain about Tom not taking care of them like he should. Better to drag Dason along although it would take her longer to get there. Thirty-four more days until her birthday, then nobody—just nobody—better try telling her what to do.
“You’ve got twenty minutes to get ready,” she said. “Put on some long pants and runners with socks. No sandals.”
He bounced off her bed and bolted out of the room.
The green canvas bag Tom had given her last time he brought them hiking was stuck underneath last year’s winter boots. She tugged it out but didn’t bother loosening the pull-string. Tom had made her practice packing and unpacking it so often she had memorized what was in it: a folded plastic tarp, string, matches, a nylon hammock, a zip lock bag full of folded toilet paper, first-aid tape, and a flashlight with extra batteries. He always carried an identical bag in his own knapsack when he went on excursions with his clients. You just never know, he told her, when she complained that she didn’t need to carry all that extra stuff. It took up less than half the space in her knapsack, so she shoved in an extra pair of socks and a hooded sweatshirt. Dragging all that with her on a bike ride still seemed like an overkill to her, but the weather could change in a heartbeat close to the mountains and the river.
While she was filling the water bottles, Dason emptied a full box of granola bars into his bag, trotted to the fridge to grab the last of the apples and went back for a couple of oranges. She noticed a sour smell when he opened the fridge door; that tuna casserole Susan had given Tom last week still hadn’t been touched. She hesitated whether to flush it down the toilet and decided to leave it for Tom to take care of. Susan would be sure to ask him if he had enjoyed eating it. Tala knew he was dead honest about these things.
“Did you bring a sweater and extra socks?” she said.
Dason nodded, zipping his knapsack closed.
“Wait, you still got room left.” She pointed to the water bottles standing by the sink. “Put two of these right-side up in your bag. I’ll bring the other two.”
Tom’s round wall clock with the hour hand shaped like a hockey stick was going on three; they had to be out before Officer Scott came back. She leaned down, opened the bottom cupboard where the pots and pans were kept, and pulled out the smallest one, a beat-up aluminum pot Anjij always used for hot chocolate, the same one Tala now used to store her most precious belongings. She tugged the lid off and fished around for the headband Nannie had made her out of the softest leather she could find. A small pale-yellow moonstone was attached at one end; the opposite end was decorated with coloured beads and three eagle feathers. Tala tilted her head forward and reached back to tie her hair with it.
Tucked in the bottom of the pot was a tiny birch canoe wrapped in a small piece of red cloth. The smooth feel of the white birch brought back happy memories of Nannie in her squeaky rocking chair, humming the old songs as she stitched the seams of the miniature canoe. Treat it with respect and it will give you strength, Nannie said, placing it into Tala’s open hand. It smelled as fresh and woodsy as the day Nannie had stripped the small sheet of bark from a branch of the old birch tree in her back yard. Tala slipped it into the small pocket on the side of her knapsack and zipped it closed.
“What you bringing that for?” Dason said.
“No reason.”
“How come Nannie never made me one?”
“That’s a lot of questions for a pesky muskrat,” she said, swinging the straps of her knapsack onto her shoulders. “Your cap is on top of the TV.”
“I’m wearing my pirate bandana.”
The tight black cloth was knotted in the back of his neck; its large white cross-bone design framed the top of his head. “All you need is an eye patch,” she said as she hurried to the front room to lock up.
A sharp knock at the door stopped her in her tracks. They both turned to look at each other. Tala signaled Dason to be quiet as she tiptoed to the window again to peek out from the side of the blinds. The moment she recognized the blond curly hair, she jerked the blinds halfway up and whispered through the open window, “Hey, Laura. Pretend to knock again. Bet you anything my nosey neighbour is watching. I don’t want her to know I’m here.”
Laura rapped on the door once more, a puzzled look on her face.
“What’s with the knapsack?” she said, her lips almost motionless. “I thought we were going shopping for school stuff this afternoon?”
“Can’t,” Tala said. “I don’t have time to explain right now. I’m biking up to the woods to see Tom.”
“That’s crazy,” Laura said. “It’ll take you three hours. Does Tom know about this?”
“Don’ worry,” Tala said. “We’ll stop to rest. I’ll call you as soon as I get back. Turn around and pretend nobody answered.”
Her heart sank as she watched her friend shuffle towards the road. They’d been planning this shopping trip for a while. Three weeks left until they both started at Craigville High, their first time going to the same school together, the first time ever taking the same school bus. Tala’s grade school was on the Reserve near Nannie’s, while Laura went to the one in their neighbourhood. Apart from summer break, weekends were the only times they hung out together. They’d be able to see each other everyday in high school.
“Come on Tala,” Dason had his arms crossed waiting by the backdoor.
She snapped the window shut and pulled the blinds closed. Tom had bought them both new mountain bikes at the beginning of summer, promising to go on lots of cycling trips with them, though it didn’t happen like he planned. Summer was a busy season for him so she didn’t bug him about it like Dason did. When he wasn’t out on the trails with his clients, he’d sometimes go there by himself just to think. The woods, he said, is where I do a bit of clean up in my head, get close to Anjij and connect with her spirit.
Tom smiled more often when he came back from these outings; he goofed around and hung out with them. Sometimes they’d bake luski together; it never turned out as delicious as when Nannie made it, but it was fun sharing the hot bread. They huddled on the couch while he told them stories about the spirits that lived in the woods and mountains.
“Slow down Dason,” she said. “You won’t last too long at this speed.”
He always tried to ride way ahead of her to prove he was faster. She had to admit he was pretty good for a kid, but she’d been cycling long enough to know they had to take it easy at first and not burn off all their energy. They were on the cycle path that began at the road near the old Catholic church. It ran behind the town swerving down alongside the high rocky ledges that followed the Cascapedia River for about thirty kilometers, and ended a little ways before the thick woods started, where Tom always parked before going onto the trails.
She kept her eyes open for Tom’s blue pickup on the paved road that ran parallel to the cycle path. If she spotted him driving back towards home, they’d turn around right away. Going on a three hour bike ride with a pesky eight-year old wasn’t her idea of a fun afternoon, but that raw empty feeling in her stomach made her pedal faster. The last time she’d felt this scared and alone was when Nannie told them about Anjij’s accident.
A black crow watching them from the side of the cycle path flew up squawking as they rode by. It circled high above them and she leaned her head back to look up.
“Spirit of the Crow,” she said aloud. “Please help Tom come home safe.”
“Where are you two going?” said a familiar voice.
Tala jerked her head back down and stared in front of her. Susan was smiling at them with her big horse teeth; she always had red or pink streaks on her two front teeth from her lipstick. Tala had been too busy watching the road for Tom’s pickup to notice anyone approaching on the cycle path, and Dason cycling in front had blocked her view. Susan stopped her bike sideways across the path, forcing them to push down hard on their brakes.
“Just a picnic,” Tala said, before Dason decided to say anything.
“Aren’t you a little too far from home for that? You’re way pass the picnic area,” Susan said, taking a long gulp from her red water bottle.
“We like to go down closer to the river,” Tala said, staring at Susan’s bottle and imagining her drinking vampire’s blood. “Away from all the nosey people around here.”
Her words had slipped out and she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. She could tell Susan was angry by the way her eyes bulged out. That’s when spit usually flew out of her mouth when she spoke to you. Dason glanced back in Tala’s direction, his eyes tense, waiting for her cue. They both knew being impolite with Susan was risky business; there was always a price to pay, one more thing for her to squeal to Officer Scott about.
Susan screwed the cap back on her bottle and pushed it back into her fanny pack. She stared at Tala without saying a word. Tala could hear the crows cawing from the top of the trees on the opposite side of the road. She pictured them swooping down on Susan, digging their claws into her, and dumping her smack into the middle of the river.
“Listen Tala,” Susan said. “I know you think it’s none of my business, but there’s a good Samaritan law that says I’m obliged to make a report if I know a child is left without proper care.”
“Tom takes good care of us,” Tala said. “And I’m almost thirteen.”
Susan stood gazing at Dason a moment, sighed and turned back to Tala, “You’re both welcome to stay with me till he comes back. Josh loves it when you guys come over.”
“Tom’s at home sleeping,” Tala said. “We’re going on a picnic not to disturb him.”
“Have a nice picnic if that’s the case,” Susan said, taking a deep breath before pushing herself back up on her bike. “Don’t go too close to the river.”
She rode past without looking at them.
Tala signaled Dason to get going. They’d have to move faster now that Susan was on to them. She looked up in time to see a blue pickup driving on the road back towards the village. Her heart sank as it whizzed by them. It was too clean and shiny to be Tom’s; his truck was full of dents and scratches from driving out on the trails.