Chapter 35

The insistent knocking on the screen door made me jump. I peered out my bedroom window, but whoever it was there was hidden by the overhang.

“Hold on,” I muttered and finished getting dressed. Glancing at the time, I groaned. I needed to get on the road soon to arrive in Winnipeg before lunch.

When I got downstairs, the back porch was empty. I looked around the yard. An unfamiliar brown four-door idled by the garage. I walked down the steps. “Hello?”

As I rounded the corner to the front, so did Jess, and we collided. “What’s going on?” I asked. He looked flustered, his cheeks crimson and his eyes wide and darting.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Gah! Where were you? I was banging on the door.”

I stared at him, confused. Why was he so panicked?

Moving closer, he put his hand behind my head and pulled me toward him. I could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. The cotton of his T-shirt was damp and sticky against his skin. A sweet, smoky smell clung to him.

“Rich never came by?”

“Rich?” I raised an eyebrow. “No. Why?”

He gave a half-hearted laugh. “He said something that made me think he might. He was just playing me, though.” He shook his head. “That guy is such an asshole.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Where’d you see him?”

He hesitated. “Did you hear about the residential school?”

I tried to take a breath, but the air got stuck in my throat. Please, please don’t tell me you did it. I nodded. “On the radio this morning.”

“I wanted to see what was left. And check on the burial ground.”

I nodded, waiting for him to continue. I still didn’t know how Rich figured into all this.

“Rich showed up with some loser friends of his.”

I rolled my eyes. I gave Jess a quick once-over. He didn’t have any obvious injuries, and then I noticed his hand. His knuckles were red and swollen. “What happened?” I asked, reaching for his fingers.

He shrugged it off. “Landed a few punches on some big, flabby guy.”

“Jordan Dirks,” I said.

“And Rich.”

I bit back a smile. Rich deserved at least a black eye. I hoped it was a good punch that had left him reeling.

“Your car,” I said, nodding toward it. “It’s still running.”

“Oh shit, right.”

What had Rich said to make him race over here and pound on my door? He was probably right, Rich was just playing him. He’d always known what to say to hurt my feelings or make me feel guilty. Kind of ironic that Rich’s comment, whatever it was, was pushing Jess and me closer.

“You going somewhere?” Jess asked. I’d blow-dried my hair, so instead of being pulled into a haphazard ponytail, it hung sleekly to my shoulders. I’d also put on makeup and some jewellery: thin metal bracelets that jingled on my arm.

“To Winnipeg. I’m going to buy my university books.”

I opened my mouth to tell him about my mom’s phone call that morning, but a car with flashing police lights pulled up beside Jess’s brown four-door. Two officers got out, checked the license plate and walked over to us. One kept his hand on a taser in its holster.

“Jess Sinclair?” one of them asked.

My body tensed, and I looked at Jess.

“You’re under arrest for arson and possession of flammable materials with the intent to commit arson.” The officer, Chris, a cousin of Rich’s, held out handcuffs and walked behind Jess, clicking them into place.

Jess looked at me, his face pale. He looked like a trapped animal, eyes wide and scared, as he struggled against the cuffs, even though there was no way out of them.

“Is this about the residential school?” I asked Chris. He was a good guy, but he was Rich’s cousin.

“Stay out of it, Sara Jean.” The warning tone in Chris’s voice should have shut me up, but I believed Jess. “Chris, wait! There’s a mistake. He didn’t do it.”

Chris handed Jess off to his partner and walked over to me. In a low voice he said, “I don’t know what you’re doing with this punk, but you got to stay away from him.” He leaned in so we were standing ear to ear. “We checked out his trailer and found all the evidence we need.”

“What are you talking about?” I narrowed my eyes at Chris. “What did you find?”

He hesitated, probably worried about breaking some rule by telling me. “Chris?” I prompted.

“Gasoline, rags, a lighter. Right under his trailer,” he whispered. “I’m telling you, this guy is dangerous.”

Biting my lip, I looked at Jess. He was shaking his head and muttering. I could see smears of white powdery ash on his jeans. A ball of nausea rolled up in my stomach. I felt like a fool. All these weeks, telling secrets and confessions to someone I barely knew.

Jess started to struggle and jerk his elbows around. “This is bullshit! It wasn’t me!”

The officer held the top of Jess’s head, forcing him to duck into the backseat of the police car. Chris slammed the passenger door and walked around to the driver side. Before he got in the car, he threw me a warning look.

Jess slouched down in the backseat as they drove away, lights flashing. Like a lost child, I didn’t know what to do or where to turn.

My car was parked inside the garage. If I wanted to go buy books, I should leave, go to the city. It was time to start my life, not stick around and try to help a guy I barely knew. What could I even do? If he was guilty, I’d look like a gullible fool.

I wanted my freedom, to leave Edelburg and make my own decisions. Even if they were the wrong ones, at least they’d be mine. My car sat in the garage, waiting. I ran inside and grabbed my keys. The moccasins sat on the counter. I hesitated, my breath caught in my throat. I needed to go.

The car hummed to life. I put it in reverse and backed out of the driveway. When I pulled up to the highway exit, my foot sat on the brake. Left to Winnipeg, right to Deep River Reserve.

Pushing the signal lever up, I turned right.

The homes were stretched far apart, with nothing but flat, grassy land between. A few had flowerpots and vegetable gardens, but there were lots of bicycles and hockey nets littering yards. Dogs roamed the street, some keeping pace alongside the car.

I asked at the gas station where Jess’s grandmother, Mrs. Sinclair, lived. The kid behind the counter looked up from his magazine and eyed me warily. “I’m friends with Jess,” I told him, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice.

“Keep going down this road and turn left at the four-way. She’s the third on the right, got a wood pile in front.”

“Thank you,” I said and ran back to the car.

A pickup and another car were already parked haphazardly in front of the house. The first hurdle had been to find out where Jess’s grandmother lived. Now that I’d done that, I had no idea how to explain why I’d come to her house. Should I barge in like Aunt Mim: “You don’t know me, but your grandson’s been arrested for arson?” Or should I ask her to step outside so we could speak privately? Would she believe me, or would she look at me like the kid at the gas station had?

Then I remembered the look on Jess’s face when Chris had shown up. I walked to the door.

Through the glass, I could see a group of six people, all men and one woman, sitting in a circle on couches and chairs. I tapped gently on the glass. A few faces turned. “Come in,” someone called.

I ignored the curious stares and cleared my throat. “Are you Jess’s kokum?” I asked the woman. Her hair, shot with grey, was pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. I glanced at her feet. She wore a pair of moccasins with a familiar beaded design.

She nodded but didn’t get up. I walked around the room and crouched beside her. “Jess is in trouble.” The words tumbled out of my mouth. “He’s at the police station in town.”

She made a noise in her throat, the same noise I’d heard Jess make. “Humpf. What for?”

“For the fire at the residential school.” I said it quietly, trying to keep our conversation private, but in the silent room, there weren’t any secrets.

“He was at the meeting when it went up,” she said and turned to the group.

“They found rags and gasoline under his trailer.” I felt like a traitor for saying the words out loud. Sticking her bottom lip out, she turned to the man next to her. He looked like he was eighty years old, with missing teeth and patchy whiskers poking through his lined skin. “Boney, you go find Gus, eh? Tell him to get to the police station in town.” The man nodded and didn’t ask any questions.

As Boney stood up to go, Jess’s grandmother met my eyes and nodded. “You didn’t have to come. A lot of people wouldn’t.”

I looked away, embarrassed to admit that I almost hadn’t.