Jeremy Stone Read online

  And besides, I said (when the water started to slow down), besides, I really like you.

  Her look told me that liking someone was not a big deal.

  I care about you.

  She still didn’t say anything.

  Maybe I—

  Wrong path, OM said.

  Don’t go there unless you mean it.

  love you.

  What Caitlan Said to That

  You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to kill myself. It’s not real love. It’s pity. And it’s noble of you but it doesn’t change the way I feel. Maybe I could have deeper feelings for you, too, but right now there is this big hole in my life with Jenson gone and I’m at least partly to blame for his death. And maybe I can join him this way. I don’t really know how it works, but I know I just don’t like it here anymore without him and I can’t find a way to move on.

  Stop, I said.

  I’m your way

  to move on.

  I don’t know. It’s not that easy. Nothing is that easy. Everything is hard. Everything is not right. I can’t just give up on Jenson. I can’t just stop feeling what I feel. I can’t just stop hurting. I can’t just

  What?

  Keep living like this.

  Old Man was shuffling around Coffee Coffee

  looking up at the fluorescent lights and

  cursing. Old Man always hated

  fluorescent lights.

  When he was alive he had told me how much

  he had

  hated fluorescent lights

  (Even makes Indians look pale.)

  and air conditioning.

  (If the Great Spirit wanted us to

  be cool all the time, he would

  have given us free ice year

  round.)

  Let me help you, I said.

  How?

  You’ll see, I said.

  I smiled

  and reached across the table and

  took her hand in mine.

  I leaned toward her

  and accidentally knocked my

  coffee over

  but I didn’t spill much.

  Old Man straightened his back

  and left.

  The List

  Alone at night in my room.

  Now I had a list of things I had to do.

  I don’t like lists.

  But there it is.

  Help my mom hold it together each and every day.

  Stay in contact with my dad and reel him home somehow.

  Make Thomas Heaney stop being a cruel asshole.

  Help Jenson move on.

  Keep Caitlan alive.

  Discover who I really am and why I am here.

  All I could figure out was that the answer to the last item on my list

  was attached to all the items above it.

  My head was spinning but I

  made myself go to sleep

  by imagining that I was not

  a real person at all

  but

  the song

  in the throat

  of a sparrow.

  Conference with Jenson

  I took the long way to school

  knowing I would be late

  but focusing on my request

  for Jenson to appear.

  But he declined on the walk,

  instead showing up

  during lunch

  when I was sitting alone

  with a soggy

  tuna fish sandwich

  I had made

  with way too much

  mayonnaise.

  Jenson was there in front of me and said, I don’t think

  you should eat tuna.

  Sometimes dolphins get killed by tuna fishermen. And

  they overfish.

  They use nets that get lost and swirl around the ocean

  capturing and trapping other fish that die. I just don’t

  think …

  I nodded towards the caf doors and led Jenson out into the hall and then outside the school. There I promised to never buy another can of tuna again, realizing one small joy had just gone out of my life.

  But I was glad to see Jenson.

  I told him about Caitlan and he said he didn’t know what she was going through.

  So I shouldn’t be here, he said. I’m only hanging

  around for me. I somehow thought

  I could be with her and help her

  and also fix this other thing with Thomas.

  I think, I said, you still have some kind of a hold on Caitlan. I think you need to somehow set her free and that, after a while, she will be okay.

  You say she’s cutting herself. That’s terrible.

  You think I’m doing this to her?

  It’s a funny business. I know it’s her doing it to herself but I think she has to feel it inside her that you are moving on and don’t want her to be with you. Does that make sense?

  Dude, not much makes sense but—

  But maybe you have to try. Unfinished business needs to be finished even if—

  If what?

  Even if it means letting go of someone you love.

  Jenson was silent and I listened for the sound of the wind and maybe a bird or two but all I heard was traffic from the highway and announcements on the PA from inside the school.

  Maybe if I could just see her—

  if she could see me—one more time.

  Can you help me do that?

  Why was he asking me this impossible thing to do?

  No, I—

  I heard the bird sound first.

  Then I saw him, Old Man

  leaning against a No Parking

  sign.

  Jeremy, he said, I’ve been

  meaning to tell you. You

  are an Old Soul. Some would

  call you a shaman. You can

  do this maybe, with a little

  help.

  But it takes practice.

  Hmm. Well.

  Maybe I can.

  But first I want

  to try it

  on Heaney.

  If I can make him see you, you can convince him to change

  (That would be one off my list, maybe.)

  and then we try it

  on Caitlan.

  Jenson smiled.

  Old Man smiled

  but I saw

  the worry

  in his

  dark eyes.

  Another Sleeping Story

  Usually I sleep like a log.

  Head hits the pillow. Lights out.

  Old Man always said that Indians had to move freely between the many worlds:

  Wilderness, community, White Man’s World (which he referred to as WMW), the world of the past,

  the present, the future, dreamworld, and spiritworld.

  Dreamworld and spiritworld are connected, but sometimes it’s hard to sort out the dreams. If you are standing in front of math class in your underwear with everyone laughing at your shorts, you are probably not getting a real important message from the dream world.

  But if you have a large eagle, say, speaking to you directly, then you should take it seriously.

  Only it wasn’t an eagle this time. And it was not Old Man who would sometimes show up in my dreams and play tricks on me or deliver advice.

  This time it was just a skinny Indian kid named Jimmy. I knew who he was as soon as he appeared.

  Jimmy was one of the little kids I used to wrestle with back in my house in the community. Jimmy always had a runny nose so whenever he wrestled you, you got snot all down your back.

  But I
liked Jimmy. Everyone did. His full name was Jimmy Falcon, sometimes called JF by his dad.

  Jimmy died of something when he was only eleven. And his mom, well, she went off the deep end and never really came back. His father spent three days in a sweat lodge until he said he made contact with Jimmy and he told everyone that Jimmy was in a good place and we should not be unhappy. Then Jimmy’s father sat down and started eating the moose meat and bannock and potato salad that had been prepared for him by the neighbors. He ate more potato salad than seemed humanly possible.

  But Jimmy had not appeared to me until that night, lights out, full asleep.

  Stoney, he said. (He had always called me that.) Stoney,

  they asked me to deliver some news to you.

  I wanted to say, Hi Jimmy, good to see you, but couldn’t. I can hardly ever speak in those dreams. Maybe you aren’t allowed to have vocal cords in dreams.

  Relax, he said, and let me do the talking.

  I relaxed just like he said and he came much more clearly into focus. Hadn’t changed a bit.

  We know about your list.

  I’m still not sure who “we” were but I was pretty sure this was a spirit dream and not just an underwear one.

  The reason this is all coming down the pike at you

  is because you are an Old Soul

  (I knew that part)

  and because you are a healer. A fixer.

  A guy who needs to set things right.

  (Shit, I was thinking. That’s way too much responsibility. I can’t hardly keep myself together. How can I heal others?)

  I know, I know. It sounds like a bit much.

  And I haven’t been on your side of the line

  in a while

  so I can only guess what it’s like these days.

  I can see, though, that you have more baggage than

  me. Dying young has its advantages.

  Jimmy was always the one to see the upside of everything. You go fishing and catch no fish and Jimmy would say, At least we got to sit by the river and avoid doing homework. Or if his dad’s car broke down, Jimmy got to hang out with his father and have a father and son car fixing talk. Etc.

  And I think you are right about Paper Clip.

  If you can get him on the right path,

  that would be a good start.

  One less asshole out there hurting people.

  You’d be surprised at how one

  Thomas Heaney can do so much damage.

  Like a snowball rolling downhill.

  I’m wondering how. How do you convert a Paper Clip? And why is that so important?

  I know. You’re wondering how. And why.

  I guess this is when I was reminded that the Jimmys and Old Man can probably hear my thoughts. And oh shit to that.

  Oh shit is right. But don’t give it a second thought.

  Look, I don’t have a body to worry about.

  You are still in the physical realm, so to speak.

  Okay, okay. But I still wasn’t sure where to begin.

  You begin by tuning in to Paper Clip

  and then do something kind for him.

  Something he can recognize as

  a kind thing in his world.

  Like what?

  Like cheating. PC is terrible at tests.

  He has test anxiety.

  Paper Clip?

  C’mon, it stands to reason.

  He is like he is because he’s so freakin’ insecure.

  He’s scared of his own shadow.

  It’s why he hangs out with Tybob. It’s why he picked

  on Jenson.

  You got a test tomorrow in European History, right?

  I’d forgotten to study for it with all the other stuff going on.

  Don’t worry. Jimmy will be there.

  I got all the answers.

  I’ll be there to share them with you.

  So you share them with Thomas Heaney.

  Wherever he sits, sit beside him.

  And let him cheat off me?

  It’s not really cheating. I mean, if you can see the big

  picture. You’ll get the hang of it after a while. There’s a

  lot of shades of gray about what’s right and what’s

  wrong. Trust me. You’ll be a great healer and a fine

  shaman.

  The French Revolution

  Yes

  there was that test

  in European History that Jimmy seemed to

  know all about.

  Funny thing, I guess: me a North American Aboriginal studying things like

  the French Revolution. So many wars in Europe

  to memorize and figure out.

  And really, what was the point? But it was school.

  So go figure.

  I had read the book

  but it didn’t stick.

  The words had a habit of running away,

  none stayed in my head

  so I hoped Jimmy wasn’t

  bullshitting.

  (And it was going to be hard to concentrate,

  worrying about Caitlan.

  But she promised me she wouldn’t

  off herself until we talked about it more.

  But I still couldn’t stay focused on the French Revolution.)

  I had the set up: let Thomas Heaney

  sit down first and then

  take the desk next to him.

  You’d have to see

  that look he gave me:

  I think you could safely call it “Pure Hate” if it was a painting on the wall with a title.

  I smiled. (What else can an Indian do?)

  Fuck off. Just fuck off,

  he said.

  Mr. McLeod said, Okay, students, today the test is going to be a simple one with two questions:

  What were the causes of the French Revolution?

  What were the results of the French Revolution?

  He turned his back and wrote them on the board.

  You can answer

  in point form.

  Now begin.

  Everyone moaned like we were being tortured.

  Paper Clip gave McLeod the finger

  but McLeod had his back turned and didn’t see it.

  Heaney didn’t have any paper so I gave him three sheets of lined paper.

  (Whenever I think of school, I think of those pale blue lines on binder paper. And I always had a hard time keeping my letters inside those lines. But that’s just me.)

  Reasons for the French Revolution? Bad leaders, unhappy

  French people.

  Results of the French Revolution? More bad leaders,more

  unhappy French people.

  I figured McLeod wanted more, but that’s all I had even though I had read the textbook.

  Yo, Jimmy.

  Sounds of pens and pencils scratching on paper. Sounds of people knowing answers.

  Not Thomas who was picking his nose

  like it was the most important thing

  in the world.

  Yo, Jimmy. I need ya, buddy.

  Hold your horses, Jimmy said

  inside my brain.

  I’m here already.

  He was still just eleven.

  I hope you know your shit about this French thing, I said silently.

  Well, I got access to the information.

  Like Google, right?

  Pretty much but better. I got whatever

  you need.

  So it pretty much came into my head like I was copying it off the internet.

  (I know, I know. It’s still cheating. But cheating for a good cause. You have to stay focused on the big picture. This was all
about getting PC to like me.)

  Here goes, Jimmy said.

  So I just let my pen slide over the page and tried to stay within the parallel lines

  double spaced as Mr. McLeod would have it.

  There were a number of causes of the French Revolution that began in 1789:

  1. there were many poor unhappy people

  2. Louis XVI and his ministers were unpopular

  3. new ideas about freedom and democracy were being spread

  4. the French were inspired by the American Revolution.

  5. there was too much taxation of the 5 million French peasants

  10% to the church

  5% property tax

  and taxes on wine and baked goods

  6. nobles and church leaders didn’t have to pay tax

  7. there were crop failures, poor harvests, and it was illegal to grow potatoes

  8. people were starving

  Jimmy, are you sure it was illegal to grow potatoes?

  Yep.

  Why, dude?

  The rich people called it “dirty food.”

  ‘Cause it came out of the dirt?

  The rich people back then

  were pretty well fucked up.

  I saw that my writing was very neat and orderly and even readable, which must have been Jimmy’s

  doing and not mine.

  Thomas had a nice clean white sheet

  in front of him

  and seemed to be studying a pimple on

  his cheek with his index finger.

  Mr. McLeod was reading a book and really not watching us. So now was the time.

  I slipped my answers over to Thomas.

  He didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

  I smiled and nodded to my answers.

  He thought it was a trick.

  I smiled some more, gave him a thumbs-up.

  He looked at McLeod and

  then he started writing.

  Well, copying.

  On a second sheet of paper, I got on with answer two about the results of the French Revolution.

  I won’t bore you, but Jimmy gave me stuff about the end of feudalism, executions, violence, democracy, and more rights for the peasants, but then there were wars and Napoleon and more wars.

  I handed that one to Thomas too.

  At the end of class we both handed in our work.

  Thomas didn’t say anything to me.