Chapter 13
January 1968

On the first day of school in January, no one was at Tony’s stop. The driver sat with the engine idling for a few moments, but when he didn’t see Tony coming, he pulled back onto the highway. At noon Ellen waited in the library. He didn’t show up.

All week Ellen waited, but Tony didn’t come to school. She began to worry he might be ill or hurt, but she had no way to check. Although she knew Tony lived on the reserve, she had no idea where his house was. On the weekend she phoned the operator, but there was no phone number listed for anyone with the last name Paul. Ellen wasn’t even sure if Paul was Tony’s grandmother’s name. Ellen couldn’t very well call the operator for “Gram’s” phone number.

Monday morning, when Ellen she saw a familiar shape beside the road in the distance, she gave a sigh of relief. Ellen began talking before Tony sat down. “Where were you? I was worried. I didn’t know how to get hold of you.”

“Happy New Year, Ellen,” Tony said. “I hope you had a good holiday.” Ellen deflated.

“Hello, Tony. It was good. I hope yours was, too. I got worried when you weren’t at the bus stop last week.”

“After Christmas we went to Kamloops to see some of Gram’s family. I got work with one of the guys on the reserve who delivers firewood to people in town, so we stayed. The pay was good. I’m not used to anyone except my grandmother worrying about me.”

“You’d laugh at the things I thought up to find out why you were away. I couldn’t phone you, because I didn’t know your grandmother’s number.”

Tony quickly stifled a laugh. “We don’t have a phone. There’s a pay phone at the band office for emergencies, but no one phones in on it. I don’t know if anyone would even answer if it rang.

“I might miss a bit of school in the next couple of months if I get more work. Otherwise, I’ll be here. I have math first period this morning, and I’ll have missed some new stuff,” Tony said. “Can you give me a hand?”

At noon, Ellen checked the new section: quadratic functions. “Sure, I can help with this.”

At the end of lunch, Ellen heard someone call her name. Puzzled, she scanned the library. In the corner, Ted lifted his hand. “Can you wait for a sec, Tony? That’s my lab partner. I wonder what he wants?”

Ellen met Ted half way across the room. “Did you call me, Ted?”

“Yah, I saw you by the window. I wondered if you might like to get together tomorrow and work on the lab write-up.”

“Together? Me?” Ellen stared at Ted. His cheeks got redder; he looked down.

“I know you like to work alone, but,” he said breathing in deeply and pushing his glasses up with one finger, “I thought, um, maybe it might be less work for us to do it together.” He shot her a questioning glance before looking down again.

Ellen stood there with her mouth agape. She saw Tony by the door. “Tony,” she called, lifting her hand in a half-wave, and then looked back at Ted. “Um, I study at noon with Tony. We’re doing math.” Ellen looked over just as Tony disappeared out the door. Her shoulders dropped. “Darn.”

Ted stepped back and bumped against a chair, almost knocking it over. He steadied it with his hand and backed away, gesturing at his books on a table at the far side of the library. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know,” he said. “Forget it. I’ll see you in class.”

“Yah,” Ellen said absently, but by the time she got to the hall, Tony was nowhere to be seen. She looked back to wave at Ted, but he had his back to her. Why would he want to work together, she thought. He won’t have any trouble doing it alone.

On the bus Ellen handed Tony a newspaper clipping. “Tony,” she said, “I cut this out for you. The federal government passed a law right after Christmas that makes health insurance available for everyone—it’s called medicare. Now everyone, Indian or white, will be able to get the same kind of help when they’re sick.”

Tony tucked it in his pocket. “Maybe,” he said.

They rode in silence for a few minutes. “I’m doing OK in class,” Tony finally said.

“What are you talking about?” Ellen asked.

“You’re wearing lipstick. You can work with that other guy if you want.”

“Ted? He’s my lab partner.”

“I thought nobody talked to you.”

“Well, they don’t. Not really.” Ellen looked at Tony. He lifted his eyebrows.

“I see,” he said.

Over the next month, classes were full of new content as the teachers took advantage of the long unbroken work period until Easter holidays. Although Ellen and Tony used the same table in the library to do their homework and study for quizzes, he rarely asked her for help. Once in a while Ellen noticed Ted in the library looking at her. During the labs he worked quietly and efficiently, but he never mentioned getting together to write them up. Fred seemed to be avoiding her, too. Though she sometimes saw him staring, he never said anything to her. Ellen relaxed and put her effort into getting as much work done at school as possible.

Ellen used her free time to explore the winter world around the resort. She had learned how to move quietly. Several times she found herself unexpectedly close to an animal, fortunately none as big or aggressive as the moose. A slight movement in the corner of her eye turned out to be a small, white snowshoe rabbit. Huddled motionless under some branches, it was almost invisible against the snow. Ellen could see marks on the branch tips where it had been gnawing the bark. The rabbit waited, and when Ellen didn’t move, it hopped off, seemingly unconcerned, and disappeared into the landscape. She flushed a covey of grouse from their snowcovered hiding place. They whirred past her head, close enough that she could feel the wind from their wings, startling her almost as much as she’d startled them.

“Tony,” Ellen said one day, “I found more ghost dog prints in the snow by the beach. I’ve never seen any dogs, though. Wouldn’t they hang around the house looking for food?”

“Dogs would, but maybe the track is from a coyote.”

“Really?” Ellen said with excitement. “How can I tell?”

“The prints look the same, but coyotes cross open areas in a straight line. Dogs wander all over sniffing everything. Check the direction of the tracks.”

“Thanks for the tutoring,” Ellen said with a grin.

“Quid pro quo,” he shot back.

When Ellen next spotted the tracks leading straight across the beach, she knew a coyote had made them. She drew a picture of the footprints in her notebook and labeled it Coyote: Canis latrans.

“Ellen,” Ann called as soon as Ellen opened the door, “there’s a letter from the University of Toronto.” Ellen dropped her coat and grabbed the envelope.

“What does it say?”

“I didn’t open it. It’s your letter.”

Ellen ripped the envelope open and scanned the contents. “I’m in, Mom. I’m in.” With a whoop she threw her arms around her mother. “It’s my confirmation of acceptance.”

“There was never any doubt of that, Ellen. Never.”

Ellen pulled away, almost bouncing with excitement. “Here. See?” Ellen took the letter back as soon as her mother had finished reading. “Is Dad in his workshop? I have to show him, too.”

As soon as he got on the bus, Ellen handed the opened envelope to Tony. “Read it,” she said, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Congratulations,” Tony said as he handed it back to her. “You’ve been expecting this.”

Puzzled, Ellen searched Tony’s face for a clue about why he was responding so apathetically. “Tony,” she explained passionately, determined not to have her pleasure dampened, “I’ve dreamed about this since I was seven and read about Marie Curie. She not only discovered radium, but she got two Nobel Prizes. It’s because of her that we have X-rays. I decided I’d be a scientist like her and make important discoveries to help mankind.” Tony smiled but didn’t respond.

“Tony, you know I’m here in Salmon Arm because Dad’s friend died of a heart attack,” Ellen said, turning in the seat to face him directly. “It’s scientists at U of T who developed the first cardiac pacemaker. And last month a doctor in South Africa actually transplanted a heart.”

Ellen collapsed in a slouch against the seat. “It sounds kind of corny but this letter means that I’m getting my dream. I’m going to U of T. I’m going to be a doctor.”

“That’s a good dream,” Tony said, still not sounding very enthusiastic.

Perplexed, Ellen asked him, “When you were young, what did you dream about being?”

Tony didn’t answer.

“Everyone has dreams,” Ellen prodded.

“When I was young,” Tony began slowly, “my father told me I should get a white man’s education. So, I came here for high school. Pretty soon I’ll be finished.”

Ellen waited for him to say more, but he looked at his book. “That was your father’s dream, Tony. What about after school?”

Tony looked out the window at the low, gray clouds and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll work for my cousin in Kamloops, or get a job in the Canoe mill.”

“You could have done those without any education at all,” Ellen blurted. “You didn’t work this hard to do nothing. There’s got to be something you want—a dream. Your dream.” When Tony said nothing, she put her hand over her mouth and determined not to bring it up again.

A week later, her face pale and serious, Ellen handed Tony the front section of the newspaper. “Look,” she said, “they murdered Martin Luther King.”

Tony shook his head as he read. “This year in Current Affairs we’ve been talking a lot about U.S. civil rights. Americans keep killing people off. John F. Kennedy, those civil rights workers, and now Martin Luther King.” Tony looked up from the paper. “Martin Luther King’s the one who said, ‘I have a dream.’ Look. It’s here.” Tony ran his hand over the paper. “Last week you said your dream was to be a doctor, and you asked about mine.

“When I went home I kept thinking about what you’d said. I told Gram, ‘It’s easy for her to have a dream. She’s white.’ Gram told me a story. She said, ‘There’s a young man. Not from here. But he’s Shuswap. He told his mother that he wanted to be a doctor or teacher, but he couldn’t because he was Indian, and Indians didn’t go to university. His mother got angry and stamped her foot. She said he couldn’t use being Indian as an excuse. His ancestors were strong people. He had their blood flowing through his veins. He had hands. He had a mind. Whatever he did, he had to do well because he was an Indian, a Shuswap.’ Gram also told me to remember that now I can decide go to school after I graduate, and stay Indian. Before, about ten years ago, your Canadian law said Indians had no choice; if they wanted more education, they had to give up their status. Then Gram made tea.” Tony paused looking down at his book. “When I went to bed she told me, ‘Look into your heart and accept your dream. Then find a way to go there.’”

Tony looked at Ellen. “One of my teachers told us about that new technical school in Vancouver. BCIT, the British Columbia Institute of Technology. It’s first-rate. Students go right out into jobs. I could feel my heart when he described the courses. I don’t want to go to university to be a doctor or a teacher like the guy Gram told me about. I want to do practical things and work outside. If I took civil and structural technology, I could work with engineers. They’d do the plans, the inside office part, and I’d do the kinds of things I like. But we don’t have money, so I didn’t try to find out anymore.

“I need to know how to get money like you did,” Tony said in a soft voice. “Would you tutor me?”

Ellen and Tony spent the rest of the noon hour planning. “A timeline will help us see if going to BCIT this fall is realistic. Over the weekend, check if there’s any financial support available through the band,” Ellen said. “We can’t spend another lunch hour in the library whispering and pretending to do homework. Where can we go?”

“The Snack Shack.”

Before the bus left that afternoon, Tony went to see Mr. Whitmore and picked up a BCIT calendar and application form. “Mr. Whitmore was more excited than me,” Tony said. “He thinks I have a good chance with my marks and all. He told me not to worry about how late it is. He’s going to write a letter of recommendation. I’ll read these and fill you in tomorrow.”

When Tony got on the bus the next morning, he sat staring out the window, not saying anything. Ellen bit her tongue and waited. “Meet me at the Snack Shack at lunch,” he said as they headed into the school.

Ellen saw him at the corner table. She sat down and looked at him expectantly. “This isn’t going to work,” Tony said, pushing the BCIT calendar across the table away from him. “There’s no way I can do it.”

“But why? What’s the problem?”

Tony sat staring at his hands. He stood up and began to walk away, still not looking at her or talking. He came back. “Do you know how much this costs? My grandmother and I live on welfare. I’ll never get enough money.”

“You can’t give up, Tony.”

“I’m not. I’ll have to get a job and save first.”

“We haven’t even checked bursaries and student loans. Did you ask the band about financial aid?”

“It’s likely too late.”

“Don’t quit without even asking. If I’m supposed to be tutoring you about money, then you need try what I say.”

“You sound like Gram. Except she doesn’t nag,” he said, and then paused. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to come out to the resort? We can check the bursary information I’ve got.”

Tony shook his head. “I’ll go see the Chief or one of the Band Council guys tonight. You can show me tomorrow.”

That evening Ellen went through her file and pulled out everything to do with general financial assistance. On the five most promising, she circled eligibility requirements, amounts available, how to apply, and closing dates. She put an asterisk beside the two that didn’t require repayment.

“Tony,” she said the next day as she handed him the list, “these are good. You’ll have to start applying now though. Go over the details and send everything they ask for. They all need this year’s marks and copies of your reports for the past couple of years. If Mr. Whitmore’ll give you letters saying you have good enough marks to be recommended, then you can send them right away.”

“Are these for Indians?”

“They’re for anyone. If you meet the criteria, then you have a chance of getting some money.”

“This is great, Ellen.”

“But the most important is your application to BCIT. Send it right away.”

When Tony got on the bus on Monday, Ellen saw he had a thick brown envelope tucked in his binder. He didn’t mention it, so Ellen told him about the birds she’d seen. At noon Mr. Whitmore called Tony as he passed and asked him to drop into the counseling office after school. Ellen kept her fingers crossed for luck.