It took the class a while to realize that this story was about kids like them -- they were used to thinking they were unknown and beneath notice. The larger world didn’t know they existed at all and the adults had no notion of what they thought or did. They were quite wrong.
At this point they got a grip on the idea that they could put themselves in the story if they wanted to. Each chapter was supposed to advance the plot, but in a way developing characters also advanced the plot. Che’s part was about loneliness, no other people at all and an attempt to obliterate even himself. Existence was not pleasant for him. Heather’s part was about being in a group, a community. Christie had written a story about these same kids in their earlier years when they roamed like a pack in the hills around Heart Butte. They had grown up together. In some ways they knew each other too well.
“Anne of Green Gables” was the most universal movie I had. All the grade levels, both boys and girls, loved that story though only a few would read it. We had the Canadian video. They said liking it wasn’t so much about Anne as it was about the little town where she lived, which struck them as being very much Heart Butte in the best of times: people they knew, places they knew, peculiarities that they understood, a kind of confidence that they were safe. When the worst things came along, then Heart Butte was nothing like Avonlea -- still, Avonlea had it’s problems.
Until this story, the only story about Heart Butte was the one that John Tatsey wrote as a weekly serial. This blog has an entry about Tatsey. It was not flattering, but there was the same air of familiar bemusement over what went on.
Chapter V
ALONE AND TOGETHER
One of the survival lessons Che had learned well was to know when it was time to make himself scarce. When his aunt got that look in her eyes and began to hunt around for her pack of cigarettes, he knew he'd best get out of there. She only smoked when she was angry and then when she smoked she got angry at herself for doing it, so pretty soon she was even more angry. Then she got mad because she hated dirty ashtrays, and pretty soon she was housecleaning. If you stayed around you either got put to work or YOU got cleaned.
It was turning out to be a nice day, pretty warm and not much wind. With a bit of breakfast and a change of clothes Che didn't feel half bad. There was no use in going to school this late in the day, but no kids were around yet so he just ambled along until pretty soon he was out of town and following the little creek that ran along the shallow valley. He picked up an old slat out of a snowfence and waved it around, not pretending anything in particular but just enjoying the way it felt in his hand, the weight of it and the shifts of it and how he controlled it easily, slicing it through the air and even pounding the tip on things here and there. He swished his stick through the willows along the creek. The mountains were a little vague, but he never paid much attention to them, really.
Just about that time he passed a culvert where a rancher's road crossed the little creek, and his eye caught on something glittering. He almost didn't stop, but then he felt rather as though it would be good to look around since there was nothing else to do. He squatted down by the culvert, letting his stick's end get wet in the wandering water. It was dark in there and he had to shade his eyes, then duck-walk over closer to see.
Good thing he looked! Somebody had stashed a six-pack of beer in there! Probably some of the winoes that sort of hung around the creek. He stood up and casually twirled his stick around while he checked to see if anyone could see him. There was no sign of anyone. It was a sleepy sort of day and only a few anonymous birds cruised the sky. Just to be sure, he looked for a long time. One of those old guys might be sleeping it off in the brush and come charging out all of a sudden. They were usually weak and shakey and a guy could just run off, but maybe one of them might be tougher than most.
When it seemed absolutely safe, Che put one foot down into the creek so he could reach the six-pack and quickly hooked it out. He tucked it under his arm, under his jacket, curling over protectively to keep it safe. He walked on, away from town, intent on finding a place that was secluded and relatively hidden. A whole six-pack for himself! Usually a guy had to share. He could hardly believe his luck.
A half-mile farther on there was a fallen-down old cabin, which couldn't be entered anymore, but there was a sort of shed slumped behind it with enough floor and walls to make a kind of three-sided booth where a person could sit off the ground and out of sight. Some old cottonwoods grew there, planted and watered by someone eighty years ago or more. Limbs had blown down and littered the ground.
Che crawled into his little wooden cave, pushing aside some debris from other tenants both human and varmint, and popped the tab on the first can of beer. What a life! Nothing could be so bad when the present was so ideal. He had a little twinge of loneliness, but he refused to let himself think about his aunt or his mother or what might happen next. Instead he tried to just sit there and get high, not feel, be peaceful. It wasn't until he began on the fourth beer that he began to cry. He hated himself for crying.
It never occurred to him to slow down on the beer drinking. Instead he just drank every can, one right after the other, chugging himself to oblivion. He didn't particularly enjoy the taste-- he really didn't let himself taste-- he just put the stuff away like medicine for what ailed him. But he could not have told anyone what it was that ailed him. In fact, he would have gotten angry at the idea that anything was wrong with him at all. It was the rest of the world that was rotten.... It was those...
But he had gone to sleep, propped there in the corner of a fallen-down shed, completely unconscious and snoring by the time his classmates were out of school and going home with books and papers under their arms.
About the time Che left his aunt's house, Heather and her friends were hurrying into the cafeteria with their trays. This was one of the best times of the day for them, a chance to catch up on news and make plans for after school. Cindy went by, her new short haircut making her look like an otter that just poked its clever head up out of the water. "You guys!" she called, excited as usual. Cindy just loved to talk more than anything. Then came Angie, with her silken skin and Gioconda smile. "Oh, I can't wait to tell you..." Jonelle and Christy were already conferring over something and they went off to a corner. It was funny that they were so close when they seemed so different at first glance. Christy was small and sweet, but Jonelle was tall and very thin--so sharp-tongued sometimes that she made you jump. They all heard Patty shriek, but it was hard to tell where she was. It seemed like Patty was always on the move.
"Where were you yesterday, Heather? You missed a test in science!" Cindy always tried to keep track of everyone.
"Well, it's kind of a long story," began Heather. Between bites of pizza and swigs of chocolate milk she told them about Che coming over and how her dad had come home early and the long talk they had had.
"Gee, if I did anything like that, my dad would really KICK MY BUTT!" said Cindy, and she sounded as if she thought it would be the right thing to do. "Didn't he even ground you or anything?"
"No," reflected Heather. "He seemed more sad than anything else. It was kind of scarey really. My mom is always the one who just gets mad, but she's too busy with bingo to bother with me."
` "I'll bet she cares anyway," said Angie, who believed in looking at the best side of things, at least now that she'd gotten over having to move away from Bozeman. "Sometimes parents just don't show what they really feel."
"Maybe," said Heather dubiously. "But wait until I tell you what else he said. I have a HALF-SISTER and I didn't even know it!"
"What!" "Wow!"
Heather was pleased that she got such a reaction. "I don't even know her name or where she lives. But I'm going to find out."
"What if she's awful?" asked Cindy, who sometimes had strong feelings about her own relatives.
"Oh, I'll bet she's really wonderful," enthused Angie.
"Well, that's just it," mused Heather, forgetting to eat. "I don't have any idea what she might be like, so it's pretty hard to know what to do about it. I guess I'll just have to wait until I find out more."
Jonelle and Christy came over to see what the news was. They were curious about the new half-sister, too, but since they were kind of boy-crazy these days, they really wanted to hear more about Che.
"I wouldn't stand for any boy just walking into my house!" said Jonelle fiercely, and no one doubted but what she knew how to handle things like that. "But Che is really cute. I think I would let him come in, all right. But you shouldn't have let him have a beer. I don't believe in drinking. You should have given him a pop or coffee or something."
"But he just TOOK it!" protested Heather. "I didn't even have time to say anything."
"I know what you mean," sighed Christy. "But your dad must have believed you when you explained, so everything is all right now."
"No it isn't," said realistic Jonelle. "How's she going to handle him when he comes back the next time? I hear stories about that Che. Bad stuff. You better be careful, Heather. He might come around drunk or something."
Cindy gathered up her silverware and milk carton and napkins. It was just about time to go, but she couldn't resist asking again. "He only kissed you though, huh? That's as far as it went?"
Heather blushed as she gathered up her own tray. "Yes." But she didn't explain what it was like, the kissing on her collarbone and the feel of his back. Maybe she would tell one of them later, but not here in this noisy lunchroom. "Hey, you guys! It's getting late and Mrs Scriver will yell at us again!"
In English they were watching a movie called “Anne of Green Gables” and it was about a girl with red hair who lived in some old-fashioned time and place. She talked too much and had a lot of imagination and always got into trouble. Heather really liked her a lot. It all seemed to happen out in the country someplace, maybe in a small town like her own, where everyone was related and feuds between families went back decades. There was this boy who called Anne "Carrots", so she broke her slate over his head and you just knew that in the end they would end up together. Even the boys were quiet while they watched the movie, except when that old woman came on the screen, the one who scolded Anne all the time. Then they got mad and said bad things when she began on Anne, so the boys must like Anne, too.
Her mind drifted off and she saw herself hitting a notebook over Che's head. What would he do? Everytime she thought of him she got this little twist in her stomach and she wondered if it meant she was in love. Love to her was a gentle thing, made of trust and little gifts and exchanges of looks... That's not quite what Che was like, but she knew his homelife wasn't very happy. Her grasp of the facts was kind of vague, but she had heard his mother drank and he often seemed worn out or mixed up, which made her want to comfort him. It was nice to think of being the more adult one, the one who knew what to do and could soothe hurt feelings. But it was also nice for Che to be so strong and so able to just walk into the situation and take over when she didn't know what to do. Then she thought of him following her into the bedroom and her stomach gave that twist again.
Well, she knew better now. Next time her tape ran out in the bedroom, she'd just leave it. She'd just stay right there in the front room. Maybe turn the television on. And not open the refrigerator until he was sitting down and sort of watching some program. She would plan things better and be prepared. Really, this whole thing had caught her by surprise. But now she would be ready for him. IF he ever came back again. What if he didn't? Awful thought. Better watch the movie.
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