February 2026 - Vol. 23, Issue 1

I could see Anne and her mother out of the corner of my eye. Heads together, they whispered and snickered. From time to time, their eyes would slide over me like hard grease. I scrunch down, try to make myself small. It’s late. Maybe they’ll give up and leave me alone tonight, I thought. I don’t want to sleep outside in March. It’s too cold. No luck. The crazy old lady giggled and pushed her daughter towards me. She has four or five inches and thirty pounds on me.

Before I could run, she was on me. Fists pounding across my head and back. I dodge, but she’s got a hold of my neck. My dog Skipper bites at her leg. She screamed and turned to kick her, but I twisted around, sheltering Skipper with my body and taking the kick. I grab her up, run into the bathroom, put my back to the tub and feet to the door. Now, for a while, we’re safe. They can’t get in without busting the door, and they don’t want to do that. Living without a bathroom door would be tough for them. Right now, they’re so worked up they might do it anyway. Skip growls and starts to bark and dig at the door. She’s angry, and I try to quiet her cause she’s just a little thing. Didn’t want them coming after her.

I can see a big hunk of broken mirror under the edge of the claw-foot tub. I wrap a couple of dirty socks around one end. Now, I have a weapon. I cuddle Skipper under one arm. Not much else I can do when the two of them are so much bigger than me. I think about burning the house down when they’re sleeping. I can be really mean sometimes.

The next day, I find a better place to hide. I’ve booby-trapped the attic door with a cut-off extension cord. When I plug it in, the wire is hot. They left me alone for a few weeks after Anne got a good shock. Another time, I dropped rocks on her head. I stay there most of the time now and come down at night for peanut butter and bread for Skipper and me. If there’s any meat, I grab it for Skip cause dogs need meat but that’s a rare find.

From the window, I look across the field to the bunch of old elm trees in the park. That's the best hiding spot and my favourite place in warmer weather. I believe the trees take care of Skipper and me. I’m waiting for spring. Anne stays away from that grove. She won’t go near the trees or try to climb up after me. She tried once, and I kicked at her, and she fell. Her brother won’t come up after me either; he’s afraid he’ll look like a goof.

One day last summer, I climbed into the biggest old tree with a book. I like books with pictures, and I can read okay if the words are short. It was hot that day. The wind made the branches rock, and after a while, I fell asleep. Skipper started growling, and woke me up. Anne and her brother were coming. They got too close, so I told Skip to run and hide. I climbed higher. Anne asked me really nicely to come down.

“Why? Your crazy mother sent you to pound on me again? Why dontcha come up here?” I knew she wouldn’t climb up. She wouldn’t have a chance in the tree, and the idea made me laugh.

Her brother tried to climb high enough to reach me. I poked a broken branch at his face. A car stopped, and the people stared at us. He got embarrassed and took off when they got out of the car. Finally, everyone left me alone. Why are people so cruel? What did I do to make them hate me? Summer gave way to fall, then winter, and I had to stay in the attic all the time.

Winter can’t last forever. Finally, the warm weather came, and I was free. I stole a blanket from their house and shoved it into a plastic garbage bag. When I could get out, I slept in the tall grass, and at night I’d creep into the house looking for food. One time, they almost caught me. Skipper and I ran, and they tried to follow us, so we went deeper into the bush on the far side of the river. The bush is scary in the spring, especially at night, because of the bears. But had to live somewhere.

I made a cabin under the tallest tree I could find, with bent branches for a roof and walls. It was more of a lean-to, but that didn’t matter. It was mine. There was a knotted rope hanging down in case I needed to get into the branches fast. Found a big tin can for a fire. It was safe and peaceful. The stars would sing to us at night, and the trees told me stories as I drifted off to sleep. The police caught me a couple of weeks later, but they didn’t find my cabin.

The cops took me back to the crazy people, and I got a shit-kicking. After that, I was ready for them. Found a big rusty spike and rubbed it on rocks and the railway tracks until it got sharp. One night, Anne’s mother got her started again. This time, I didn’t wait for her to come after me. I jumped at her mother and jabbed the spike into her arm. I tried to stab her in the eye, but her son pulled me away. Then he got mad and stormed out. Once he was gone, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. But he’d left a can of lighter fluid on the table. It got knocked over and spilled on the floor. By then, Anne was charging into the kitchen like a mad bull, screaming she’d kill me. I lit a piece of paper on the stove element and dropped it on the floor. The fire roared up, and Skipper and I ran. On the way out, I grabbed a bag of food and stuff I’d hidden behind the door. We made it to the bush and crawled into the cabin. That night, we had a real party with a whole can of meat, cheese, and crackers. No one came after us this time, and we were glad to be alone. Now that the weather was warmer, we moved back and forth between the cabin and the crazy house. When they were being especially mean, Skip and I got out of that place fast.

That summer, I got bigger and meaner, but Skipper got skinny and started to limp something awful. I carried her when she had trouble walking. And now, we had neighbours. Indians were camping about a half mile from our cabin. They’d dug up a big piece of ground and were looking for small bits and pieces of stone and bone. There was an old lady with them. The old one was beautiful, she smelled like cedar and flowers and had silver hair that fell down her back in a thick braid. Her name was Natalie. She left food for us and always remembered a bone for Skipper.

The Indians were looking for old bones and broken pots. I liked Natalie so much that I showed them a spot with lots of bones and things. They got excited after that and treated me extra special. When I got a cut and my foot swelled up, Natalie brought me medicine, and she got some stuff to help Skipper. She brought me a pair of shoes.

Natalie would tell me stories if I let her comb my hair and wash my face. One of the stories was about the trees being very old spirits. I already knew that and told her so. Told her right off that the trees talked to me and told me stories, and that the stars sang at night, and that they weren’t happy with people right now. She was startled, but she believed me. That’s when I knew she was my friend.

Maybe she was a teacher. Over the summer, Natalie took the time to teach me words in her language. Then she showed me how to read big words by sounding them out. She promised that when I could read better, she’d take me to a library. It was a place full of books, pictures and maps. I loved books, so I tried hard. Before long, I knew the map of the world, all about clouds and storms and mountains. By the end of summer, I’d learned a lot of words in her language and other things.

Skipper and I trusted her. One day, the police came to the site, and when Natalie heard they were coming, she told Skipper and me to hide in the trees. When they left, she called me back.

The police told her that people had seen me at the dig. I was six years old now, and in another month, the social workers wanted me in school, and my family wanted me back, but that was a lie. I didn’t have no family! They could leave us alone cause things were good now. Skipper and me ate every day. I was used to wearing shoes, and I could read, add and subtract. The police and social workers were going to ruin everything. For the first time I could remember, I cried.

Natalie promised we’d go to the library the next day. She kept her promise. We rode in a car, and Skipper came with us. The building was so big and clean, we were afraid to go in. Natilie held my hand, and we walked in together. She showed me books about lakes, rivers and oceans. I read about art and music.

On the way back, she explained that the crazy people at the house were my family. They would get in trouble for not taking care of me. They got money every month from the government, and if I weren’t living with them all the time, they’d lose it. I didn’t believe it and said so. They couldn’t be my parents. They hated me, but the money made sense. Just thinking that the crazy old lady was my mother made my stomach sick.

Natalie made a tree promise that day. She swore she’d never abandon me in this life or the next. I didn’t realize what she meant. And I didn’t understand why things had to change. One thing I learned that summer was that things always change, and not always for the better.

Grief is a funny thing. It makes you cold and takes your heart away. If you have friends, like old trees, they keep your heart safe and care for it until you finish weeping and can hold it again. Skipper was dying. My friend was old and tired. She should have died sooner, but held on until I’d found my way so that I wouldn’t be alone. I took her in my arms and carried her to Natalie. We sang her to sleep, and when her time came, buried her by the old trees. They welcomed her spirit. Skipper ran into the spirit world free of pain and full of joy. I heard her promise to be waiting for me when my time came. That night, I sang to the trees and stars, just like Natalie taught me. I told them of Skippers bravery, the many coos she’d counted against our enemies and the strength of her warrior's heart. Still, I knew I had lost a friend.

Within a few days, the government people came for me. Natalie and her friends stood beside me when the police car came with the social workers. I was alone again. My ‘family’ welcomed me by ignoring me for weeks. I was grateful. They took my good clothes and shoes, and slashed my hair off. But I’d changed. When my sister and her mother came at me, I had a weapon. A screwdriver. They remembered the rusty spike and the fire. They were angry about it, but from then on, stayed away from us.

Loneliness can be hard, but it doesn’t have to be if you make it your friend. I was alone with only the trees and the stars. When life is like that, silence becomes part of you, and it’s a good thing.

One day, an Indian man named Ron was waiting outside the school. We went into the park and sat under a tree. He told me Natalie died and gave me her necklace. The pain was terrible. Silence helped me bear it. I went to the old trees where Skipper was buried and sat with her. It was a long time before I came back to the world. Deep inside, I heard Natalie’s voice in my head and felt her beside me. She told me I had a long way to walk yet. She was right.