HIS NAME IS BROZ.
He says I can call him Joe. He sits beside me and gets out a tape recorder. He puts in a what do you call it—a cart ridge—and presses a button to turn it on.
This is customs officer Joseph Broz at 6 AM on Dec 31st he says.
He points the recorder at me and tells me to introduce myself and xplain what is going on and how I came here.
You want to know everything? I say.
Yes.
But—everything?
And speak slowly.
My name is Bunny I say into the recorder. I am 15 and a bit—almost 16. I live at Creekside Juvenile Detention Centre. I dont know the address but it is near the train tracks in Hope Springs. That is in Ontario in Canada. I am out on a pass. My PO gave it to me. Her name is Roz. I came home for Christmas and then we drove up to my grampas cottage. I was with my brother and my cousins. My brothers name is Spencer.
I take a breath and try to think about what happened and when.
It is way easier to tell a story than it is to write it down. Last time I had to write down a story it took all day. This story only takes a little while. The police station gets noisy as cops come in and the day starts. It is still dark outside. I keep talking.
Joe is interested. He wants to know about the kid nappers. What are there names? Where are they from? What do they want? I tell him Vi and Lubor and Peter and Bojan. And the anthem. And Dusan I say but I never saw him.
Joe stops the tape.
Did your grandfather spend time in—some place? he asks. I do not recognize the name. The way he says it there is a lot of spitting in it.
I dont know I say. Is that a country?
It is now says Joe. But it wasnt when your grampa was spying. Thats what he was rite? A spy?
I gess so I say. There were pass ports and money in his wall. Those are spy things and he was hiding them. And we found a gun. My cousins think he was a spy and there pretty smart. Spencers smart for sure.
And he got the anthem says Joe. Rite? Isnt that what the SPCA kid nappers want?
I dont even know there name. SPCA—what is that? You know more than me I say.
Joes face changes. Oh he says. I thot you said the name.
No. I never herd of the SPCA.
I gess I got it wrong says Joe.
He starts the tape again. You keep talking he tells me. Finish your story while I make some phone calls.
A gust of warm air blows up from the floor. Im so tired. I culd sleep until spring. I close my eyes and feel my body melting like butter on the stove.
I do not dream.
Floating away from a street full of zombies in my new iron hat to play moon tag with my friend Akie from grade 2 until my mom calls to ask what I want on my cheese burger—thats a dream. Crazy you know? I had that exact dream last month.
So what I have now is not a dream. Its like I am sleeping and awake at the same time. I know I am in a police station in skates that pinch a bit and close that smell pretty bad. I have my head down and my eyes closed. And I hear Grampas voice. Careful Bernard he says.
It takes me back to the time we were walking near the cottage and I went after a snake that didnt run away. Well not run—it was a snake so it culdnt run. But it didnt slide away. What it did was it looped around on itself and waited. This was years ago when I was like 8 or 10. It was just me and Grampa. He pulled me away from the snake and said Careful Bernard. Then he showed me the rattles on the snakes tail and told me what they meant and we walked on.
Careful Bernard. Thats what I hear now. I wake up from my not dream with Grampas voice in my ears.