Read Online Living with the hawk by Robert Currie - Free Book Online

bet she’d know how to handle them. Maybe the next time I saw her in the halls I’d speak to her. Tell her how brave I thought she was, taking on Jordan Phelps the way she had, how beautiful she was. Yeah, fat chance of that. Get close to her, I’d be sputtering away, someone might just as well bind my tongue into a reef knot.
    â€œThat native girl,” said my mother, “it mustn’t be easy for her at school. By herself, I mean.”
    â€œIt isn’t,” said Blake. “Some people give her a rough time because she isn’t white — but man, she’s got a temper, tells them where to stick it. Doesn’t hold back either. Anybody else she treats . . . well, the same way everybody does.” There was a warmth in my brother’s voice. For some reason, he made me think of Mr. Salter at church, whose wife had died, who liked to visit with my father, who was so lonely he always steered the conversation in the same direction so he could talk about his wife. “I’ll tell you something though; nobody gives her a rough time in Mr. Helsel’s class. Anybody did, he’d slap them in detention the rest of the year. He figures natives get a raw deal in this country, he sure isn’t going to let that happen in his class.”
    â€œYou mean he favours her?” My mother looked thoughtful.
    â€œOh no. History class, everybody’s got to work their butts off — her included, but you can tell he kind of likes her.”
    â€œI don’t blame him,” I said.
    Blake gave me a sarcastic look. “What do you know about it? You’ve never even met her.” He jerked his head toward me so violently that I flinched and immediately felt foolish. “I don’t think she’s got much background in Canadian history, but she works hard and she catches on real quick. Sits right at the front where she won’t miss a thing.” He turned to me again. “Right next to me,” he said, and I knew he was rubbing it in.
    â€œOh ho,” said our father, “and I thought you liked to hang out with the boys in the back row.”
    â€œNot in history class. Fool around there, you end up dead in the water.”
    â€œYou fool around anywhere,” my father said, “your marks are going to suffer.” My father glanced at Blake, and then at me, nodding his head. He could never resist the chance to make a point he thought would be good for his sons to hear. Yes, and my marks weren’t as high as Blake’s. With both of us grounded though, we’d have lots of time for schoolwork.
    â€œThe thing about Anna,” my brother said, the same warmth in his voice as before, “is she sat at the back the first day she transferred in. Todd Branton leans across the aisle and whispers something to her — I don’t know what it was, he can be a real jerk — and you know what? She slaps him on the mouth. At the start of class. Then she marches up to the front and takes a seat there. Now here’s the good part. Mr. Helsel was right there at the front of the room, saw the whole thing. You know what he says? ‘Todd,’ he says, ‘I think we’ll have a little chat after school.’ Cool as anything. You’ve got to hand it to him.”
    â€œAnd to her,” said my mother. “It’s nice to know she’s not going to put up with things like that.”
    â€œShe won’t take any crap.” My brother grinned. “That tends to make most people kind of reluctant about dishing out the crap.”
    â€œGuff,” said my mother. “ Crap is not a term we need to hear at the dinner table.”
    After supper, when our parents had gone to the front room and we were stacking dishes in the washer and cleaning off the counter, I spoke to Blake, keeping my voice low, so it wouldn’t carry to the other room. “You’ve got a crush on her.”
    He turned toward me, a pot in his hand.