IN THE SCHOOL playground, Ralph and William were loitering, bored with themselves. The game of King of the Hill had been officially banned by the Powers That Be who ran the school. Always a rebel of sorts, William was willing to poke the beast of school authority for the thrill of pushing classmates down a dirty pile of snow, but Ralph was not. Poking any type of beast was not one of his favourite activities. So instead, they leaned against the swings where the younger kids would occasionally play, looking out at the playground.
Without adrenaline to get his heart pumping and muscles moving, it turned out William was not a very articulate conversationalist. There they stood, the both of them, watching the elementary school world go by. “Hey, did you hear? There’s talk of the school getting the internet!”
William seemed unimpressed. “Nope, what’s that?”
“Some sort of computer network thing. You can learn and find all kinds of things. Mrs. Kendrick described it like having an entire library in your typewriter. And … and … you can send messages and all sorts of cool things out to people.”
William thought for a moment. “Kinda like Spock’s library computer on Star Trek?”
Now Ralph thought for a moment. “Yeah, kinda. Supposedly it’s been popping up all over the world. All you need is a phone line. It’s in Baymeadow already.”
“Big deal. Nobody will care.”
“How come?”
“Nobody will want to do all that typing. All that information, sounds too much like being in school all the time.”
Recess wasn’t for standing around. It was for running around. Doing things. And what was wrong with King of the Hill, anyway? Nobody ever got hurt … well, not badly, anyway. “So do you know what the prize is gonna be?! The one I’m gonna win?!” William smiled eagerly.
“You are so sure it’s gonna be you.”
“Yep. Gotta admit, that Everything Wall was a good idea. I like your mother sometimes. Geez, seems practically everybody’s drawn some sort of picture there. None of them very good, of course.” Absentmindedly, William grabbed a handful of snow and began making a snowball.
“Yeah, my mother says it’s where imagination comes alive.” Intentionally, Ralph exaggerated his mother’s mannerisms, getting a laugh from William.
“Yeah, that sounds like your mother.” Liz Thomas, in one of her annual home beautification attempts, had planted all sorts of new and interesting flowers around her house, determined to make her and her children’s home visually arresting. Unfortunately, one of the flowers she’d chosen to line the front of her deck was a particularly lovely strain of poppy. And it wasn’t long before somebody made the connection between poppies and heroin. Almost immediately, rumours began to fly about what Liz was really doing with those flowers, completely disregarding the fact that there are dozens of varieties of the poppy plant, of which only one carries the addictive alkaloids that, properly processed, lead to opium, morphine, and heroin. A visit from the local cops failed to put that gossip to rest, and within a week of their blossoming, the poppies were relocated to the compost heap.
William yawned. “And you still haven’t drawn anything. What are you waiting for?” William suddenly flung the snowball at a tree, hitting it dead on, showering its roots with bits of lumpy snow.
“I tried three times, but nothing came out. I don’t know …” Unfortunately, Ralph was beginning to feel a little inadequate about his dormant sense of talent and non-existent contribution to the Everything Wall.
“Don’t sweat it. Some people know how to draw. Others don’t. And I’m happy with that.”
Suddenly the bell rang and recess was over. “Is it my imagination or is recess getting shorter and shorter?” said William.
Both boys began walking towards the front doors of the school. Sitting on the steps of the slide, nearby but hidden from where the two boys had been standing, was Danielle. Standing up, she finished off her delayed breakfast, another bag of chips — this time a little more exotic brand of salt and vinegar — and watched the boys travel further away. She watched them leave with a certain longing. It had been a long time since she had walked anywhere with anybody.
“The Everything Wall …,” she said. For a brief moment, she seemed happy. Then the second bell rang, and she began walking towards the school. “Imagination comes alive …,” Danielle repeated, deep in thought, almost forgetting the wet, squishing sound her right boot made.
FIVE DAYS HAD passed since the creation of the Everything Wall, and the Thomases’ wall was alive with life and imagination. Easily two dozen different images of varying styles and talents had been squeezed onto the surface of the black wall. There was still one day left until the winner would be chosen. A motley selection of drawings crowded the kitchen, but it was obvious the boat William had drawn was by far the best. Two of Shelley’s closest friends, Vanessa and Julia, had drawn, or more accurately had attempted to draw, their pets, a cat and a dog. Other various friends and family had populated it with animals and objects. Most had laughed at the idea, claiming they were “too old for this kind of thing,” but pretty soon, with a little prompting — and occasionally without prompting — somebody would eventually kneel at the Wall, chalk in hand, opening the doors of imagination and letting through what may.
Liz Thomas was pleased. Her little gift to youthful artistic expression was proving surprisingly successful. Part of her was glad William’s boat was so good. It was rather obvious he was better at drawing. This way, by picking him, she wouldn’t be hurting any of the other youngsters’ feelings. Still, William couldn’t continue to win the prize every week, she thought. She’d have to make some rule about that later. More importantly for the moment, her husband was due home that night. It had been three weeks since he’d last slammed the Thomas door behind him, not out of anger but because it had been a windy day and the elements had wanted him to leave with a more emphatic send-off.
This afternoon, she began her usual ritual. Pork chops. Scalloped potatoes. Peas. And, of course, pie. Maybe apple. Possibly a strawberry rhubarb mixture. Liz would make most of the traditional welcome home dinner herself, except for the pie. Her dexterity in the kitchen for some reason did not extend to the baking arts. Experience had taught her her limitations. Those pies came from a small shop in Baymeadow. Once she had made the mistake of bringing home something called a Key Lime pie. Due to its unique appearance, all in the family had refused to call it a pie. And who ate green pies? So that non-pie quickly fell by the wayside.
Tye Thomas’s life was one of simplicity. Drive trucks. Come home. Eat the same food he’d been eating for the past four decades. Get to know his kids again. And wife. Catch up on local gossip. Watch some hockey. Laundry. Golf when the season and the weather allowed. And then head out again to parts of the continent where it was his responsibility to prevent product shortages. The eighteen-wheeler he drove was the twentieth-century cargo ship travelling across the land instead of the sea. The Thomas house, located on the Otter Lake reserve, was his home port. And if the projection in his phone call was correct, Tye Thomas should be pulling his own personal cargo ship — a Ram 1500 — into port in the next few hours.
Liz’s life was just as simple. The only difference? She wished it wasn’t. There was a wayfaring spirit hidden somewhere deep under her polyester blend Baymeadow sweatshirt, struggling to break free. Rather than a cargo ship, she wanted a catamaran, a schooner, a real sailing ship to explore the world, see new things, and have adventures. There were precious few adventures to be had in Otter Lake. She had to live them through her children; thus, the Everything Wall.
A television show about some far-off land played in the living room, and when she craned her head as she was preparing the scalloped potatoes, she could catch some of the visuals as well as the audio commentary. In her heart she kept a list of places that, should she win the lottery, she planned to take her family. There were several of the usual places one would expect: Greece, Australia, New Zealand, England. Some unexpected countries also appeared on that list: Iceland, Ireland, Easter Island. The show currently captivating her interest talked about some ancient civilization in India, which was now on her unofficial list. The world was so fascinating. She loved Otter Lake, but …
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Ralph, William, and Shelley were sitting at the Thomas living room table, playing a game of cards, a unique local game called Anishnaabe Rummy. The rules had developed in the community over a number of years and they involved the ability to swoop in on your neighbour’s cards, picking the tastiest one, whenever an ace turned up.
Outside, it was a cold, drizzly day. The very first hint of spring had arrived extremely early with a temperature slightly above freezing. Thus, the rain created a dampness and cold that ate through even the best winter gear. As a result, it was an afternoon meant for indoors and cards.
“You’re cheating!” yelled Shelley at William.
“Prove it … I mean, am not!” he replied to the accusation.
Shelley threw her cards down in frustration and stormed away from the game. “I want to go to Vanessa’s. I bet they’re having fun over there.”
“Go right ahead but take an umbrella or a scuba outfit. It’s very wet out there.”
Looking out the window, Shelley sighed. “I wish somebody could drive me over.”
Ralph shuffled the cards once more. “Then you’ll have to wait till Mom or Dad gets home. Want another game?”
Depressed that her life had come down to either forging out through the winter rain, or playing cards with her little brother and It she rested her head against the glass. Apathetically, she answered, “I guess.” Even this had to be better than reading the book she’d been given for English class. Shelley never understood how a lot of the books they were given to read in school related to her life in Otter Lake. Yes, the human experience was universal, as her teachers tried to drill into her class; but, seriously, a book about a group of stupid boys stranded on tropical island, getting meaner and meaner. If that was of interest to her, there was William to study. He was his own Lord of the Flies. As for the Shakespeare she’d had to read … cry havoc and let slip the dogs of boredom.
Shelley sat down at the table for another game of Anishnawbe Rummy, there was a slight noise, possibly from the direction of the front door, possibly not. Almost a scratching sound, like a tree branch rubbing against an outside wall. Or the cat trying to get in — if they’d had a cat. “Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?” William was busy sorting out the cards before dealing them. Despite his talent with chalk, manual dexterity was not his forte.
“Ralph?”
“No. I didn’t hear anything. What did you hear? Maybe it was the furnace.” Shelley was about to answer him when the mysterious sound repeated itself, this time slightly louder. “I heard it that time. I think someone’s at the door.”
“What, a mouse?” snorted William, getting ready to deal. “I think I’m first, right?”
“Dealers are never first,” Shelley snapped. Leaving her hated enemy, Shelley went to investigate the mysterious noise. Curious, she opened the door to the front steps. Standing on the stoop was a little girl, looking very soggy and uncomfortable. It took a moment for Shelley to place her. She was from their school, but several grades back. All the kids from the reserve and a few from nearby settlements went to the school, and almost everybody knew everybody in one way or another. But not everybody was as unremarkable as Danielle. Somewhere in her almost thirteen years, Shelley had passed this girl on the street, in the hallway, or at some function, but she couldn’t seem to recall the tiny creature’s name. But at the moment it was a very wet and cold Danielle that was standing at their door. The two boys could hear her teeth chattering from across the living room. Even though the young girl was looking down, Shelley could tell her wet, stringy hair was plastered across her face. She could also see water running down the unfortunate girl’s neck. She was shivering with the cold.
“Hello,” said the puzzled Shelley. “Who are you?”
At first Danielle didn’t respond, and then when she did, her chattering teeth made her difficult to understand. The two boys put down their cards and listened, curious about who Shelley was talking to.
“Christ, that’s what’s-her-name. Danielle. Isn’t it, Ralph?”
“Yeah. What’s she doing here?”
Ralph shrugged as Shelley invited Danielle in out of the rain, though that move did little to stop her shivering. “Danielle, is that your name? Oh, you poor thing. You’re soaked through to the bone. Let me get a towel. You stay right here.”
Shelley closed the door behind Danielle and left the room. The little girl stood in the living room, a puddle of water growing around her feet. William and Ralph looked at each other, not sure what to say.
Ralph finally worked up the nerve. “Hey, Danielle …”
Nervously, she looked up and managed a small, slight smile before Shelley came back, towel in hand. “Take that coat off. Let’s get you dry. What are you doing out on a day like today? It’s horrible outside. You shouldn’t be out there.”
Danielle tried to answer, but quickly found a soft, fluffy towel being rubbed across her face, muting her response.
“Are we playing this game or what?” asked William, with a freshly shuffled deck. Shelley and Ralph ignored him.
“There,” said Shelley, taking another look at the now semi-drowned girl. “You look a lot better. Almost human.” She smiled at the tiny creature in front of her, but wasn’t sure if she got a smile back.
“Thank you,” said Danielle, too low to be heard clearly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.” Shelley took Danielle’s tiny jacket, heavy with rainwater, leaving a trail of water as she walked across the room. “What can we do for you?”
There was no response while Shelley hung the girl’s coat on the back of a chair over a hot air vent, hoping it would drip reasonably dry with some prodding from the furnace.
Danielle’s attention, however, was elsewhere. She had spotted the Everything Wall once the towel was taken from her face. Clearly visible from the front door, across from where she stood, was a black chalkboard with many dubious expressions of art and what appeared to be a welcoming space for one last attempt. Her eyes, unusually alive, almost eager, scanned the images that populated the surface. Near the bottom right of the Wall, close to the humming refrigerator, there was the only untouched space. The little girl smiled and turned towards Shelley. “The Everything Wall.”
Shelley nodded. “Is that why you’re here? You want to draw something?”
Danielle smiled even brighter. There was a brief and hesitant nod. “Please.”
“The chalk box is on the counter. Right there.”
Shelley escorted the little girl across the room. As the Wall grew closer, Danielle’s smile grew bigger. The tiny girl quickly grabbed the chalk. Shelley thought she heard her say, “Thank you” again, but was unsure. This little Danielle sure was a soft speaker. The older sister looked over at her younger brother, who seemed as puzzled as she was.
William looked impatient, eager to get back to the game he was winning.
“Come on! Are we playing or what?”
With the chalk in her hand, Danielle knelt down, facing the blank spot. Everything and everybody around her seemed to fade away, for at that moment in her life the universe consisted only of her, the expanse of painted plywood, and the chalk, which was her passport to what could be innumerable worlds of wonder. There, she stayed, kneeling as if praying, looking at the Wall.
Puzzled by the girl’s sudden appearance and her reaction to the Wall, Ralph watched her. To the young boy, it almost seemed like she was looking not at the Wall but into the Wall. In her left hand a white stick of chalk was clutched, but it didn’t move. Danielle was motionless. As if waiting for something.
“She’s weird,” whispered William.
Shelley glared at the sitting boy. “Shut up. Geez, you’re an idiot. She’s not weird. Just quiet. Ralph, who is she?”
She was weird, thought Ralph. Everybody knew that. But weird isn’t always a bad thing. Weird could simply mean different. And different could mean special. And special could mean extraordinary. But a lot of the time, William was right. Weird was weird. “She’s in our school. I think she’s a grade behind me. She comes from down towards Hockey Heights. Other than that, I don’t know much about her.”
Shelley asked the age-old question unique to Native communities. “Who’s her parents?”
“Oh, man. What’s their names? William?”
Unlike a lot of questions posed in school classes, this was one the boy could answer. “Yeah, let’s see, her father … I think his name was Albert. Albert Gaadaw. At least I think it was. My father knew him. He died, I think, about four years ago. Construction accident of some kind. And her mother’s name …”
“Hazel,” finished Shelley. Even though she’d been only eight, Shelley remembered the accident and everybody talking about it. Something to do with him being buried in a hole in the ground. Hazel Gaadaw. Practically everybody knew of Hazel Gaadaw. And not in a good way. Albert’s death had devastated her and had left its repercussions on the woman and, by association, his daughter. Looking again at Danielle, Shelley’s immense sense of compassion for anybody other than William became infinite.
“She’s awfully skinny,” Shelley mentioned, looking at Danielle.
“Yeah, and you’re awfully fat. Come on, are we gonna play this game or what?” William was no longer the focus of the afternoon, and that needed to be addressed.
“All right then, let’s play your stupid game. Honestly, Ralph, I have no idea how you put up with It. I don’t know how It’s family puts up with It either.”
“My mother tells me I’m adorable. That’s why.” Smiling, William disappeared into the living room, followed by his fellow Anishnaabe rummy players.
“And I’m not fat!” came Shelley’s voice from the other room.
Alone in the kitchen, Danielle was forgotten, which was fine with her. Her eyes were riveted to the Wall and all its potential. She barely breathed. But there was more than the Everything Wall in her eyes. That was merely the door, hiding so much more. There was something else that hid beneath its surface. Something special waiting to come through. Most people saw what was. It was a precious few who could see what could be or even what should be.
Another second passed, then a few more. All the world was silent except for the hum of a fourteen-year-old refrigerator and the squabbling of kids in another room. Danielle raised her left hand to the Wall and slowly drew a curved white line. A second later, another line followed, then another. Faster and faster came the chalk impressions on the Wall, dust like small snowflakes slowly falling to the ground. Grabbing a handful of other chalk pieces, Danielle smiled as the image began to take shape. She could almost see the Horse.
More importantly, it could almost see her.
AFTER HALF AN hour, Ralph was tired of listening to Shelley and William bicker over the card game. At first it had been amusing how everything about one seemed to irritate the other. But by this point, it had become annoying. Every time all three got together — as Shelley would have absolutely nothing to do with William unless Ralph was directly involved — it was the same sequence of events. Shelley would say A. William would respond with a snarky B, usually resulting in Shelley’s annoyed C. William would ignore her and move on with D. As predictable as an election on the reserve. Despite Shelley’s insistence that he always be around, it was almost like Ralph didn’t exist when Shelley and William were together.
Ralph couldn’t understand why they bothered hanging around each other so much if they didn’t like each other that much. People didn’t make much sense, Ralph had wisely concluded, based on his ten, almost eleven years on the planet. His parents were a similar case. His mother, kind of unconventional in many ways. His father, so conventional in other ways. Yet, sixteen years and two kids later, they still managed to move forward in life together. Ralph wondered if his father would be bringing any presents home with him tonight. Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn’t, depending on where the trucking company sent him. Admittedly, not a lot of exciting things to buy kids when in Lethbridge for the night, or Hearst.
To give himself some peace, the younger brother quietly slipped away from the living room coffee table, as Shelley was now deeply involved in yet another spirited discussion over William’s occasionally unique interpretation of the rules to Anishnaabe rummy.
“You can’t do that!” yelled Shelley.
“Sure I can,” responded William. “I saw it in a movie.”
“What movie? How To Play Cards Stupidly?” And on it went. Shelley had a whole set of other friends she preferred to play anything with, but on such a miserable day, it was best to spend time staying home and dry and warm and being miserable with William and Ralph.
Ralph had a mild thirst that if properly exploited would have an additional beneficial effect. This manoeuvre involved moving away from the anarchy of the living room and obtaining water from the tap in the quietness of the kitchen.
The other two did not notice Ralph leaving the table as William practically shoved a seven of clubs into Shelley’s face, intent on proving his point, even if unsuccessfully. Part of Ralph was hoping the rain had stopped; this would permit his sister to go over to Vanessa’s, leaving him and William to get into their own brand of interaction. Boy stuff. Less bickering.
Once he crossed through the doorway into the kitchen, he saw Danielle partially hidden by the refrigerator. Still kneeling, chalk in hand and in motion. Oh yeah, Ralph thought, having completely forgotten about her, as had the other two. She had been so quiet and discreet in the kitchen, her appearance and eager participation in the Everything Wall had faded from their immediate consciousness. But there she was. Her hand fluttering against the Wall. Adding final touches.
When Ralph cleared the refrigerator, he stopped dead in his tracks. He was transfixed. All thoughts of his sister and William and that glass of water just evaporated. Ralph stood some six feet away from the little girl, staring at the Everything Wall and its new citizen. There are few times in a ten-year-old’s existence when time and space bend. When all their imagination has taught them no longer is relevant. A child’s imagination is powerful for sure, but on rare occasions, it can be overpowered. Augmented with new parameters. The Everything Wall swallowed up ten-year-old Ralph. He disappeared into it long enough for William and Shelley to wonder what had become of the third member of their awkward triumvirate.
“Hey, you playing this hand or what?!” asked William as he entered the kitchen.
Right behind him came Shelley. “I don’t know if I want to play cards anymore. It looks like the rain has stopped. I might want to go over to …” Shelley noticed Ralph’s fixed and unresponsive expression. “Ralph, what’s wrong?!”
“You got anything to eat?” said William, dodging around Ralph, aiming directly for the refrigerator. He hoped there might be some chicken left over from last night’s dinner with the Thomases. There were always leftovers in the Thomas fridge, unlike in his house. The definition of leftovers in the refrigerator at William’s home was condiments.
Then William saw the Everything Wall. “What? Geez!” Not many things took the tough boy’s breath away, other than a punch to the breadbasket.
Only Shelley had not yet set eyes on what Danielle had created on the Everything Wall, but it was obvious by the reactions of her two male companions that something very different had been added. Off the top of her head, she could not remember either of them stopping so suddenly dead in their tracks, so frozen. This was very un-Ralph and un-William. Curious, and a little concerned, she looked around her brother to the black wall where she had left the quiet little girl from their school to labour away.
“What are you two up …”
Now Shelley crossed over the border from the annoying and boring world of playing cards and rainy days into what was waiting for her on the Everything Wall. She, too, was silenced. The only sound in the kitchen was the slight, raspy scraping of chalk on wood. A darker tracing here, a thickening border there, defining an edge more clearly near the eye, adding more colour. Despite the reactions of Ralph, William, and Shelley, the Horse was still a work in progress.
All three stared at the Horse. They stood in their tracks, stock-still, taking in Danielle’s creation.
To call the creation a horse would have done it and every horse in Creation a disservice. It was the kind of horse every person on Earth would have wanted to ride, but never could. It looked like it was leaping across the Wall, blazing freedom somehow emanating from it. Out of four shades of chalk, Danielle had managed perfectly to sculpt the image of a magnificent steed, every muscle, every sinew, and every hair. The image was better than a photograph. A photograph rendered reality, and reality was sometimes lacking. Danielle’s drawing was much better than any artist they had ever seen or read about could have done. The creature on the Everything Wall seemed alive and conscious, real and powerful.
In the drawing of the animal, Danielle had managed to incorporate other images on the Everything Wall. In some cases, the Horse swallowed them up. The Horse was huge, covering the entire Everything Wall. The other images, drawn by Shelley and William and other friends, barely registered; they appeared between the Horse’s legs or beyond its back, as if standing aside, making way. It was unlike anything the three had ever seen or even imagined was possible, let alone on the wall of a house on the Otter Lake reserve. But there was the Horse on the Thomas wall, now staring back at them.
Ralph, the first to see it, had been immediately swallowed up by what Danielle had created; he was completely unaware of the arrival of William and Shelley. The creature appeared so noble, if that was the right word. It looked protective and strong, but also kind and caring. There was also wisdom and love captured in Danielle’s drawing on that plywood wall. At first, Ralph wasn’t sure how he could have come to that unusual understanding — wisdom and love — then he realized it was the eyes. Somehow everything the Horse was, its very essence, poured out of its eyes.
And Danielle’s, too. There was an intensity, shining through brightly, Ralph noted, that was not normally seen in shy barely-ten-year-old girls. For a brief moment, Ralph could see through what some have called the crack between the worlds. Fleetingly, he saw what Danielle saw and what she was endeavouring to re-create on their wall. The Horse was everything the girl wasn’t. Everything she needed. Everything every person in that room, and perhaps the world, needed, all wrapped up in a chalk drawing. It was obvious, but not in a conscious manner, that what she was creating was the girl’s best friend, protector, father, and, were she older, lover. The Horse filled all the missing parts in her life. As the artist, she would call it forth with such mundane equipment as chalk, plywood, and black paint, and it would come. It was as real to her as anything was to anybody. And by some means, this registered on Ralph and the other two witnesses.
The Horse took Shelley’s breath away. She’d ridden a horse precisely once during a weekend stay the year before at summer camp. She’d done this with more fear than excitement. But her experience of the creature on the Wall was nothing like that. The Horse’s mane was like fire. The hooves like a ballerina’s delicate feet. The chest and shoulders massively strong, strong enough to ride into the night and through to the next morning without breaking its stride. Many have said there has always been a spiritual connection between girls and horses, and this animal was the Mount Everest of what that connection could be. Though it was just chalk, Shelley wanted to reach out and touch it, to make sure it really existed. But her arms couldn’t or wouldn’t move. She continued to look, her eyes doing what her fingers couldn’t.
“Holy …,” she managed to say.
William, the least philosophical and imaginative of the three, was equally bedazzled. This little girl he had barely acknowledged or given any thought to, who had by her arrival thrown a wrench into his afternoon activities, had somehow created something that timid little girls shouldn’t be able to create. The style and the way she brought it to life didn’t just overshadow what he had contributed to the Everything Wall earlier, it practically destroyed it. It wasn’t fair. And yet it almost seemed like the Horse was looking at him, staring him down, mocking his effort. Regardless of who had drawn it, the Horse was definitely cool. Cooler than it should be. William couldn’t deny that. Dangerous, too. He should have drawn it. That should be William’s Horse. But it wasn’t. Danielle had brought it into this kitchen, into this world. It taunted him.
“Shit,” he managed to say, his voice quiet, full of wonder and envy. Normally that would have earned him a slap on his ten-year-old shoulder from Shelley, but it was unlikely she even heard it.
The three of them did not notice the gradual slowing of Danielle’s hand and the return to normal of Danielle’s countenance. With a few final touches added to the Horse’s tail and right hoof, she put the chalk down. She was finished. She looked it over one last time, visibly pleased at what she had created. Smiling, she got to her feet, gathered up all the pieces of chalk, and neatly presented them to Shelley with a grateful nod. The older girl put her hand out to accept them, not really conscious of what she was doing.
“Thank you,” said the little girl, smiling again. She gathered up her still-damp coat, put it on, and walked across the rooms to her equally damp boots and put them on too. Then she turned and opened the door to the outside, far cheerier than the level of moisture in her clothing warranted.
“Wait …,” whispered Ralph.
Danielle stopped and turned around.
“How … how did you do that?”
Danielle looked again at the Horse, her interest obviously fading. “I dunno.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she nodded towards the image on the Wall. “Ask him,” she answered, with complete sincerity. Then, just as suddenly as she had arrived, Danielle Gaadaw was out the door.
William was the first to break the silence that permeated the kitchen after the little girl’s departure. “I’m not going to win the prize, am I?”
Both Shelley and Ralph slowly shook their heads in agreement.
ALMOST TWO HOURS later, the trio were still admiring Danielle’s contribution to the Everything Wall. Used plates, cups, and empty pop cans littered the floor and table, evidence that a few of their baser instincts had kicked in. All three were still in awe of the Horse.
“It’s almost like it’s alive,” said William.
“Where’d she learn how to do that?” asked Shelley.
“Not from our art teacher,” added Ralph.
More silence followed.
“What do you think Mom will say when she sees this?”
Ralph thought for a moment. “She will love it. How could she not? She’ll want to frame it.”
William leaned forward from his seat on the floor to the right of the chalk drawing and hesitantly reached out, touching the tail of the creature. The action instantly caused cries of concern from the other two. His index finger left a small smear of dark brown chalk leading away from the Horse. “I’m sorry. I just had to touch it. Make sure … something.”
Instantly, Shelley was trying to repair the smudge. “Make sure what?!”
“Make sure it was real,” answered Ralph for William.
“Yeah,” the other boy acknowledged.
“Well,” said Shelley protectively, “it’s real.”
Some twenty minutes later, Liz Thomas came home, car laden with groceries. Time, as it usually did, had foiled her original plans. The scalloped potatoes she had made earlier were still in the refrigerator, waiting to be popped in the oven. But coffee with Janine Magneen had eaten up more time than expected, and the restocking of the pantry for her husband’s return had consumed what precious few minutes were left. Impatiently, she honked the car horn twice, inviting her children to assist her in transporting the food from her vehicle to the kitchen counter. She knew from long experience that after that, she was on her own in distributing the staples and produce to their proper locations. She honked a third and final time, and Ralph and Shelley, along with William, came out of the house to help her. But something was wrong. Liz could see that. They weren’t running down the stairs and to the car with excitement. And Shelley and William weren’t fighting. William wasn’t wrestling with Ralph. Instead, they seemed quite placid, almost reflective. Instantly, Liz hoped this wasn’t a portent of something horrible.
“Okay, what’s wrong?”
Shelley answered for them all. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hurry up. You gotta see this!” Each grabbed a bag of groceries and entered the house, quickly but orderly. All three stopped inside the doorway, patiently waiting for Liz to follow. This was unnatural. “You’re scaring me,” said Liz, locking up the car.
“Hurry,” said Ralph.
“Yeah, hurry,” added William with an eager nod.
Liz entered her house, puzzled and concerned. Still silent, all three kids put their grocery bags on the table, then stepped back, once again looking at the Wall, hidden from Liz’s view by the refrigerator.
Expecting a hole, or maybe a dead squirrel — it had happened before — Liz joined the children and met the Horse. She, too, said nothing as she gazed at what was on her Everything Wall. Immediately struck, bewildered by the image and by the ability and talent of the person who’d drawn it, Liz struggled to process the figure now located on her kitchen wall. She was uncomfortable. Frightened? She realized that the ice cream in one of the bags across the table was melting, but at this point it seemed an unimportant issue.
“Who did this? William?”
For a brief second, William’s innate nature almost made him claim ownership, but he knew it was a claim impossible for anybody to believe, including himself. He was already learning that reality frequently has a way of keeping people honest. “No. Not me.”
“Shelley? Ralph?”
“No,” replied Shelley.
“No,” replied Ralph.
“Then who?”
“Danielle Gaadaw.” Shelley spoke the name of the little girl she was coming to think of as an artist.
It took a moment for Liz to process her daughter’s statement of fact. “Albert and Hazel’s daughter? I haven’t seen her in ages. She did this?”
Ralph nodded. “I watched her do some of it.”
The girl definitely had talent, the mother thought. “What did she say? I mean, did she say anything about it?”
William answered. “No. She doesn’t talk a lot.”
“Yeah. Just said, ‘Thank you,’ then she pretty much left.” Ralph felt they should have thanked her instead.
“She’s really weird,” added William.
“This is quite an achievement for sure.” Liz walked around the children, looking at the Horse from a different angle. “Do any of you know her much? Do you play with her?”
Shelley shook her head. “She’s three grades below me and one below Ralph and William. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her play with anybody.”
Liz now knelt down, just a few inches away from the image. “Wow.”
Ralph agreed. “Yeah. Wow.”
“Do you know her?” asked Shelley.
Liz shook her head. “Not really. I see her walking around the village sometimes and think to myself, what a poor little girl. She always looks so small and cold. Even in summer. I always meant to ask somebody about her, but I always seemed to forget. I knew her father a bit. He dug our septic tank.”
“And what about her mother? Hazel, right?”
For the first time since entering, Liz took her eyes off the chalk drawing and looked at her daughter. “That is a sad story. Poor Hazel. She really did love Albert. So sad.”
Shelley and Ralph looked at each other, not quite understanding.
Ralph expressed their confusion. “What do you mean?”
With barely a shrug of her shoulders, Liz tried to explain the impact tragedy can have on a person. “When somebody you know and love is suddenly gone, sometimes it can leave a vacuum. And sometimes what rushes in to fill that vacuum is not necessarily a good thing. Hazel looked for comfort in some pretty bad places.”
“My father always told me to stay away from their house. Says they’re bad people. Crazy, even. A lot of drinking, he says.” As always, William was nonchalant in relaying his father’s opinions.
“Yeah, William, I heard that too. I’m surprised nobody’s looked into their lives by now, I mean about Danielle’s welfare.”
“It can’t be all that bad. Look what she can do.”
“Yes, William, I am looking at what she can do. I wonder where” — Liz gestured to the Horse — “where this came from.”
It was the dripping of melted ice cream on the floor that managed to drag Shelley back into the world of Thomas kitchen reality. “Mom! The ice cream!” Straightening up with a groan, Liz got a cloth from the sink while Shelley attacked the lost dessert. Ralph and William, barely tearing their attention away from the Everything Wall, put the rest of the groceries away, surprising Liz. This was a monumental day in more ways than one.
Once the disaster was dealt with, Liz looked over her shoulder at the Horse. “Well, gang, I guess we have a winner for this week. It is sure gonna be hard to top that. Does everybody agree? Danielle gets the prize?”
They all nodded, including a rather glum William.
Liz opened the refrigerator a foot before pausing. “It’s sure going to be a shame to wash that away. It’ll bring me to tears for sure.”
Ralph looked at his mother. “There’s no reason we have to.” They all glanced at him. “I say we leave it up. I got no problem with that. There’ll be lots of room left to draw. Shelley, William, Mom? What do you say?”
“That’s a nice thought, Ralph, but I’d hate to play favourites with all the kids participating, even you three, by favouring one kid’s drawing over another. It wouldn’t be right.”
In the silence that followed, Liz suddenly thought to herself, Those scalloped potatoes should have been in the oven twenty minutes ago. She looked at the drawing one more time. “It definitely is worth saving. You guys sure?”
One by one, they nodded their agreement with varying levels of enthusiasm.
“I wonder what she’ll draw next?” pondered Shelley.
“That,” admitted Liz, “is a very good question.”
THE LIBRARY WAS attached to the school the three kids attended, though it was kept as a separate institution. Usually, it was only open for ninety minutes after the school closed during the week, but it was hosting a meeting today — something to do with government attempts at increasing literacy rates in First Nation communities — so Ralph, Shelley and William raced along the frozen roads as fast as they could, knowing time was growing short. The library would be open but not for long.
“Why are we going there again?” asked William.
“You know why. But in case your sad little brain can’t figure it out, Ralph, tell It why.”
Once again forced to be the mediator, Ralph took a deep breath, partly because of the cardio experience resulting from the half-kilometre power walk and partly because of familial weariness. Sometimes being the bumper nation between two warring parties can be draining.
“Uh …”
Looking up to the sky in a uniquely teenage combination of frustration and annoyance, Shelley practically growled at the two younger boys. “Oh for — Boys. It’s absolutely amazing how you guys make thirty cents on the dollar more than we do.” As usual, both boys had no idea what Shelley was talking about. Unlike her, they did not, on occasion, watch the evening news with Tye and Liz.
Struggling to keep up with the girl’s longer legs, the stocky William shouted at her, “I don’t understand!”
Under normal circumstances, William’s statement would have been a prime opportunity for the girl to further eviscerate her brother’s best buddy. But even Shelley, despite her contempt for William, felt that under the circumstances it would be too easy. Besides, they were in a hurry.
“I just wanna see if maybe we can find a picture of that Horse somewhere. Maybe in one of those books. That was so amazing, maybe she copied it from something.”
William looked to Ralph, sharing the same unspoken thought. Actually, that was kind of smart. But neither dared to speak it aloud.