I am burning with shame.

Millette can tell how upset I am. He unfolds himself out of his seat. In two strides he goes over to the wastebasket, comes back and gently hands me the report with an awkward smile.

Without saying a word, I calmly head toward the door. Behind me the teacher cries, “Larivière? Where are you going? Class is not finished!”

I go out into the corridor feeling dizzy, as though I’ve fallen off a cliff. I know I will never set foot in this school again. My big adventure stops here. It’s all over.

Outside, the cold air burns my forehead. My cheeks are on fire, but I feel very light.

I quickly head for the bridge. I want to let my feet dangle over the swirling river. It would feel so good to be at the bottom of the water, far from the noise of the world…

To the left is the street. In front of me is the long gray sidewalk. To the right is the schoolyard, empty and lifeless. A bit farther on is a small truck. It looks out of place here. There’s something familiar about it. In the back are rolled sheets of white canvas, paddles, coils of rope, an ax…

And through the back window I can see…

No, it can’t be! My blood is rushing through my veins. My heart is beating like a frantic drum.

It’s Sam! Sam Brascoupé! What is he doing here?

And he’s not alone.

The door opens. A girl gets out. She smiles at me. She calls out and her clear voice cuts through the air.

My heart turns over.

“Nipishish!”

It’s Pinamen.

It’s her.

She got my letter…

I drop my school bag and run to her. Manie is there, too, sitting on the seat with Pone’s old walking stick at her side. She smiles, holds out her hand, and I grab it. I dive into the truck. I bury my head in Manie’s warm chest and weep. I drink in the smell of the spring wind, the summer sun, the water and the pines. She pats my back with her big strong hand.

“Nipishish, my boy,” she says. “We need you.”

2

THE TRUCK PULLS away, leaving behind a long gray cloud of dust that seems to go on forever. We make our way slowly to the heart of La Vérendrye Park. We’re all squished together in the cab, but I feel perfectly comfortable. If there were children with us, they would be in their mother’s arms or sitting on our laps. If there were more adults or dogs, they would be riding in the back of the pickup, sitting on their bags or on the rolled-up tent.

This is how we Algonquin travel.

I’m not sorry to be leaving Mont-Laurier. I went there to get an education, to live in a city with white people. But now I want to forget all that — Aunt Mona, Uncle Méo, the school, the teachers, the police, the bowling alley…