Arctic Thunder (11 page)

“Lacrosse is an aboriginal sport,” Victor said.

Mike's face lit up. “It's a great sport, Victor. It's like a combination of basketball and hockey, with lots of running. You can hit the other team or hammer them with your stick. And there's way more scoring than in hockey. You've got to be in shape, man, because you never stop running — just like soccer. And the hand-eye coordination you need is unbelievable.”

“It's too bad no one plays it up here,” Claudine said. “It sounds exciting.”

Mike's enthusiasm withered as the full gravity of Claudine's words sank in. Somewhere at the back of his mind there had been a nagging, sickening feeling that lacrosse wasn't played in Inuvik. Now the reality was staring him in the face.

Victor placed a hand on Mike's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Mike. I can tell the game means a lot to you.”

Mike shrugged and studied the fire gloomily. “I don't know if I can live without lacrosse. I don't know how my parents could do this to me. No one told me Inuvik didn't have lacrosse. This whole move was going to be a big adventure and I'd have plenty of fun, they told me.”

“Mike, if your parents had told you Inuvik didn't have lacrosse, do you think it would've changed anything? Would it have made any of this easier?”

Mike shook his head but didn't look at Victor.

“I know it's hard, Mike, but you have to look for what isn't obvious. Look around you. Take your time. Something's waiting for you in Inuvik. Something you'll take with you for the rest of your life.”

“Right now it's pretty hard to see anything,” Mike said. “Today's pretty nice, but it's not lacrosse. As far as I'm concerned, all I can see is no lacrosse, a monster who wants to kill me, and a girl who plays sports like a boy and wants to beat the crap out of me.”

Victor stared at Mike, baffled by his comments.

“He's talking about Joseph Kiktorak and Gwen Thrasher,” Donnie said.

“Okay, I see. Mike, sometimes people aren't what they seem. Just like moving to Inuvik, you have to look deeper. Joseph and Gwen have good hearts, but they're angry at everything around them right now. Just like you. You don't know what their situation is, so be patient. Maybe they're part of the reason you're here.”

Victor let his words sink in for a moment, then continued. “Gwen and Joseph are searching for something. Maybe you are, too, and you just don't know it. Maybe it's here in front of you. We never know what life will bring us, but if we take things with a smile on our faces, life looks a whole lot better. Right now Gwen and Joseph can't smile. They don't know who they are.”

“I know who I am,” Mike protested. “I'm a guy who loves lacrosse and misses St. Albert.”

Victor frowned. “Mike, do you really know who you are? I don't think you do. You're an athletic boy who loves lacrosse. Lacrosse is a big part of you, and I don't think your time with the sport is done, but I sense you're so much more. The first day I met you I could feel your inner strength. I sense the warmth of your heart and how you accept others around you.”

“Mike, your skin is dark,” Victor said. “I'm curious. What's your heritage?”

“A mix of things, I guess. My dad's Irish. My mom's family is from South Africa. I think she's a mix of Zulu, German, and Filipina.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “You think? Why don't you know?”

“I never really stopped to figure it out, I guess.”

Victor motioned in Mulluk's direction. “My granddaughter there is both Gwich'in and Inuvialuit. She embraces both of her cultures. She's part of the Inuvialuit group that travels and shows others our traditional dances. She knows who she is and she keeps our traditions alive. By acting out the stories and culture of our people through dance that has been part of us for many years, she finds herself. I think, Mike, you need to find yourself. You need to discover who you truly are.”

“I don't need to know about my culture. I need to figure out what's going to happen to me right now.”

“Mike, how do you know where you're going if you don't know where you came from?”

Sighing, Mike threw a stick into the fire.

Victor glanced at the sled. “It's getting dark. We better head for home.”

CHAPTER 11

F
or the next week Mike left for school, came home, did homework, ate supper, and then went to his room. He never smiled or talked. He simply looked at the floor as if it could provide the answer.

At supper one night Ben asked his son what was wrong. Instead of answering, Mike looked at the floor as if there were a reply there. Finally, he glanced up at his mother, then focused his attention on his father. “Why didn't you tell me there was no lacrosse in Inuvik?”

“Mike, you know we had to make this move no matter what,” Ben said. “You were upset from the very beginning. Telling you there was no lacrosse here would've made you even more disappointed. I tried to tell you a couple of times, but something always got in the way.”

Ben cleared his throat, then continued. “I'm really sorry. I should've told you as soon as we found out. I guess in the end it didn't make things any easier. You'd think at my stage in life I'd know that the truth is the only way to go. I guess … well, I guess I was having my own problems knowing there wasn't going to be a team for me to coach anymore.”

“I think I understand, Dad. It must've been hard.” He picked up his fork and started to eat the chili in front of him. Then he looked at his mother. “Mom?”

“Yes, Mike.”

“What are we? I mean, what culture are we?”

“You pretty much know what I know. Grandma and Grandpa are from South Africa. Grandma's a mixture of Filipina and German, and Grandpa is Zulu and German. South Africa's a huge melting pot of nationalities and you're a result of all that melting.”

“And I'm as Irish as Irish can be!” Ben said, grinning.

Mike almost scowled at his father, then asked his mother, “But what's our culture? What are some of our traditions?”

Jeannie wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Well, to be honest, Mike, I don't really know much about our culture or heritage. I was born in England, and we moved to Canada when I was really young.”

“Have you ever tried to find out about your heritage? Surfed the Net? Talked to Grandma or Grandpa?”

Jeannie sighed. “I haven't really thought about it much, Mike. Grandma doesn't talk about the past a great deal … and, well, I haven't dug into things myself.”

Mike turned his attention to his father. “Irish, eh?”

Ben squirmed, glanced at his wife, then burbled, “Faith and begorrah, laddie!”

Mike threw his napkin onto his plate angrily and stood up. “You guys don't know a thing! And it isn't funny! How can you sit there and joke about it when you don't know a thing? How do you know where you're going if you don't know where you came from?” Pushing his chair back hard, he stomped out of the dining room, ran up the stairs two at a time, and slammed the door to his bedroom.

For a long time Mike sat on his bed and stared at the wall. Things were so confusing. It hurt like crazy that he wasn't going to play lacrosse this year. But something inside him was fighting the hurt, and it didn't really seem as bad anymore. It had been so much fun going to Reindeer Station, and everyone had been so nice. Except for Gwen Thrasher and Joseph Kiktorak, things in Inuvik were kind of looking up a bit. He was getting to know some of the guys at school. Donnie was a geek, but he was a good friend and really funny to be around. Mike smiled to himself in the dark, then heard a bleep from the other side of the room.

Walking over to where his computer glowed dimly in the dark, he plopped into the swivel chair, wiggled the mouse across, and watched as the monitor brightened and the screen saver disappeared.

“SHOOTER has just signed in!”

Spencer! Their computers had been working for a few days now, but with everything else on his mind he hadn't bothered much with messages and stuff. Before supper he'd signed on to Instant Messenger and forgotten about it.

“SHOOTER says: Wassup, Mikey?”

“Nothing 2 much U?”

“SHOOTER says: School=[[ and LAX=D.”

“LAX already!”

“SHOOTER says: Spring camp at the garrison.

You playing yet or busy building igloos=D.”

Mike sat back and sighed. He'd forgotten that they'd be training already for the season. Spencer likely played winter lacrosse, too. Mike leaned forward and continued to type.

“I wish! No LAX here!”

“SHOOTER says: That sucks! No LAX at all?”

“No LAX but lots of fun snowmobiling! It's amazing”

Mike couldn't believe he'd just typed those words. But it was true. He really enjoyed being out with Victor. He leaned back again. Maybe it was being out with Victor and Donnie more than the snowmobiling. He stared at the ceiling. The computer bleeped.

“SHOOTER says: can't believe you not playing LAX! Your brain frozen! LOL”

“Ha-ha.”

There was a soft knock at the door. Mike turned and saw his mother outlined in the doorway by the light in the hall.

“Can I come in, Mike?”

“I guess. I just have to sign off.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Spencer”

“G2G,” Mike typed.

“SHOOTER says: OK bye.”

Mike swivelled in the chair so he could face his mother as she sat on the bed.

“That's nice. What's Spencer up to?”

Mike kicked at the floor. “They started training for lacrosse already.”

They both fell silent for a moment.

“Are you okay, Mike? I know the move's been hard on you, but it seemed as if you'd started feeling a little more at home. Then the last few days you were so quiet. Now tonight at supper … You just seemed different about things. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Mike fidgeted with his computer mouse. “I'm … I'm pretty confused right now. I mean, I was so mad about lacrosse, and then all of a sudden I'm not mad. I had such a great time with Victor and Donnie and the girls the other day. It was so much fun to drive a snowmobile and be out with Victor. All my friends in St. Albert would say Donnie's a super geek. To me, though, he's a super guy, and real funny. And Victor's one of the nicest people I've ever met. When he talks, it's like he's … I don't know, one of those sensei guys in the movies or something. He's kind and smart at the same time. Even though I was so upset about lacrosse and not being able to play anymore, he made me feel almost happy about it or something. He made it seem like if I really, truly, loved lacrosse, I'd play again someday, and it wasn't the end of the world.” Mike stopped and stared at the swirls of the screen saver now moving across the luminous surface of the monitor.

“Victor does seem like a very nice man,” Jeannie said. “In fact, everyone I've met in Inuvik seems great so far. This one lady I ran into at the post office told me that Victor's one of the most respected elders in Inuvik.”

“Mom, Victor said that he felt I was in Inuvik to learn something. He said something that really started me thinking about people and life, and just, trying to understand everybody. He asked me how I knew where I was going if I didn't know where I came from. I hadn't ever thought of that before, and it's true. People up here learn about their heritage and language and stuff. I don't know anything about South Africa or Grandma or Grandpa. I guess I don't know really who I am inside. I don't know anything about those things. It seems kind of important now, though. Do you understand?”

Jeannie nodded. “I think I do, Mike. All your life you've played sports. You've always done well at school, but you've never stopped to wonder about yourself, your heritage, and the world around you. You know, tonight you made
me
realize I really haven't taken the time to figure out who I am, either.” She smiled ruefully at her son. “I'm your mother and I'm Sergeant Watson's wife. But really, who am I? Mike, do you want me to call Grandma and ask her to write to you about what she knows, about your heritage and great-grandma and grandpa?”

“I think that would at least help, Mom. I don't think that's the only thing that's confusing right now, but I think what you're suggesting would help.”

Jeannie walked over to Mike and ran her fingers through his dark, curly hair. “We'll figure things out, I'm sure.” Bending over, she kissed him on the forehead, then headed for the door. Pausing in the doorway, she glanced back at her son. “I love you, Mike. I'll see you in the morning.”

His mother was already halfway down the stairs to the main floor, when Mike whispered, “I love you. too, Mom.”

CHAPTER 12

E
ven though Mike was confused, he had to admit things were looking up at school. Classes were good, he hadn't seen Joseph Kiktorak in days, and his runins with Gwen Thrasher had been pretty much limited to passing her in the hall and seeing her on the basketball court with intramurals. In fact, Mike's basketball team was doing so well that it was in second place behind Gwen's bunch.

One of the reasons for their success was Donnie. He was amazing. After watching Mike's games, he'd sit and dissect each and every play. He had a photographic memory. After school he'd sit with Mike and detail why in his mind certain plays hadn't worked. Most of the time he was right. Mike used the information to go over things with Tommy, Mitchell, Tyler, and the other guys before the next games. It made a huge difference, and Mike could tell Donnie felt pretty good when the guys started to treat him with a whole new level of respect.

Every game with Gwen's team was intense, and Mike noticed that when they played each other, the gym was consistently packed. Much to his relief there hadn't been a repeat of the shot to the ribs, but the games were still pretty physical. Gwen's team was big and used its size whenever possible. They had two giants — Billy Greenland and Mark Kikoak. Billy was tall, and Mark was incredibly strong.