don’t want to go commercial fishing and have to live on a smelly old boat,” Lily says, as if she’s just been insulted. “I want to go to fish camp like Bunny and Dumpling, near their village.”
“Yeah,” Bunny says, “our camp is way up above the Arctic Circle. We have drumming circles and dances that go on all night, and then we lay our sleeping bags out on spruce boughs and we don’t have to get up until the afternoon if we don’t want to. Me and Dumpling get to shoot mice with BB guns and roast salmon hearts over the fire, too. Better than marshmallows!” She rubs her belly and licks her lips just thinking about it.
I’ll pass on the roasted salmon hearts. But Bunny sounds braggy to me, and I glance over at Gran to see if she’s ruffled by it. She’s spooning food onto plates as if it takes so much concentration. I guess other people’s kids can be vain if they want. Lily better watch out it doesn’t rub off on her.
“Is there mayonnaise in this?” Lily asks.
She is the pickiest eater on the planet.
“Lily,” Gran says in a voice that lets Lily know mayonnaise should be the least of her worries. “Say grace.”
“Blessusolordandtheseourgiftswhichweareabouttoreceivefromthybountythroughchristourlordamenwhy-can’t-we-have-a-fish-camp?” Lily asks, without taking a breath.
Selma looks at me and we roll our eyes. Lily spends her life griping that almost everyone else in Birch Park has a fish camp. But saying it in front of Bunny puts Gran on the spot. It also shows how clueless both Lily and Bunny are if they haven’t figured this one out yet. They’re both eleven, which is plenty old enough know to where the lines are drawn.
“We don’t have a fish camp because we aren’t native,” Gran says, to her plate.
“I’m not native, I’m Athabascan,” Bunny says.
Selma and I laugh.
“What’s so funny? She is Athabascan,” says Lily. “Natives are the people like Dora’s mom, the ones who hang out all day at the bar—they’re too drunk to even bother fishing.”
“That’s enough,” Gran says, slapping Lily so hard on the hand that her fork flies up and then falls with a clatter.
“No more talking while we eat this meal that Father Mike has so generously provided for us.”
Lily pushes her peas around on her plate. Her cheeks are bright pink.
Fish camps are pretty much handed down from family to family, but maybe Gran shouldn’t have lumped all Alaska Natives together. It didn’t seem to make Bunny very happy. Especially because Bunny and Dumpling actually have the nicest parents in Birch Park. Dora’s family never goes to fish camp. Lily knows better than to gossip about Dora at the table, though.
It’s not as if we all didn’t see what happened the night Dora came running out of her house wearing only a nightgown. Her father, Bumpo, was chasing after her, calling her a whore. I think he got the name Bumpo because he’s always drunk and bumping into things. Bunny’s dad, Mr. Moses, was the only person brave enough to go outside and face him. Mr. Moses had a big wool blanket and he scooped Dora up in it like she was just a sack of feathers; then he set her inside the door of his own house. No matter how much Bumpo yelled in his face or threatened him with a beer bottle, Mr. Moses didn’t budge; he just stood there blocking the door that hid Dora.
It went on and on until Bumpo just sort of slumped over, all deflated. Bunny’s father led Bumpo back to his house. And the rest of us went back to pretending we didn’t see anything.
If you’re wondering why nobody called the cops, that would show how little you know about us. Whatever you happen to be—black, white, native, or purple, it doesn’t matter—it’s a sin to snitch. It’s the one universal rule that being poor will buy you, for better or worse.
—
When Gran gets up from the table and is out of earshot, good old Selma leans in to Lily and says, “I thought the Lord provided the meal, not Father Mike.” All she gets is a halfhearted smile from my sister, who is busy piling her peas onto Bunny’s plate now that Gran isn’t looking.
Bunny eats them all in one bite, because that’s what best friends do. Then they both hop up saying they’re going to Bunny’s for Eskimo ice cream and are out the door before Gran can argue.
Lily has Bunny and I have Selma. And that’s