Whale Song (15 page)

The surface was far above me. And I was running out of air.

I panicked. My hands flailed and I fought to get to the surface. It was just beyond my reach.

I’m not going to make it.

My heart strained against my chest.
Puh-pum! Puh-pum!

Desperate for air, I clawed at the water.

My head felt like it was going to explode.

I pulled upward, reaching.

Toward the light…

Clawing…

But the light was too far away.

I’m drowning. Like Annie…and Robert.

All of a sudden, I felt myself miraculously lifted, propelled by the killer whale below me. I tightened my body, keeping it streamlined as water rushed past me in a blur.

My lungs strained for air.

Faster!

My head pounded, my heart raced.

Then I saw the light and I broke the surface, gulping in a burning lungful of air. Panting and coughing, I eyed the whale as it lolled next to me, its head above the water.

“
Thank you,” I said hoarsely.

It stared at me before vanishing beneath the surface.

Then I remembered Annie.

A few feet away, I saw her head bobbing in the water. Determined strokes brought me to her side. I turned her over, grasping her across the chest like my lifeguard course had instructed. Then I swam for Fallen Island, towing her limp body beside me.

“
Come on, Annie,” I pleaded.

I stumbled to shore and dragged her across the sand. My feet were scraped and bloody from sharp rocks and weather-beaten driftwood. I dropped to the ground beside her unconscious body.

“
You’re gonna owe me big for this,” I muttered.

I tipped her head back, cleared her airway and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

There was no response.

“
Breathe.”

I filled her lungs again.

Nothing.

“
You can’t die on me, Annie. Who’s gonna bully me around?”

Another breath.

This time Annie reacted.

With a violent shudder, she gagged and spewed up water. She made awful choking sounds while I sat behind her, rocking her in my arms and thanking God and the Great Spirit for saving her.

“
That’s right,” I said, my eyes tearing. “Spit it all out.”

When she caught her breath, she realized that I had my arms around her. She jerked away and looked at me, confused.

“
How’d we get here?”

“
I dragged you. You know, you aren’t as light as you look.”

“
You saved me?”

I shrugged. “I did what anyone would have done.”

She shook her head. “No, nobody else would’ve bothered.”

Rattled by her comment, I looked away. “My dad’ll be here soon.”

An unusual calm settled over us.

Until Annie realized that she was in her bra and panties.

“
Where are my clothes?”

“
You took them off. Remember?”

She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head.

“
It was either that,” I said dryly. “Or drown.”

“
I’ve been awful to you. Why’d you save me?”

The answer was simple. “Because you needed saving.”

Above our heads, a tempest was brewing. Menacing clouds blocked the sun and the temperature plunged. A northerly wind kicked up, blowing icy rain and sand in our faces.

We darted under a patch of trees where we shivered, teeth chattering, chilled to the bone. After a while, Annie shifted and rubbed her legs, flinching in agony when she touched a large, purplish bruise. She looked down at her scarred arms.

“
S-Sarah?” Her voice trembled. “My dad―”

“
Yeah, I know.”

Her head darted up. “That was you the other day? Behind the bushes, I mean.”

I nodded.

Annie bit her lip. “Thought so. Saw you ridin’ away.”

There was a long pause.

“
You’re right, Sarah. I
am
a bully.”

I wanted to say something, but I heard a sound half-hidden by the howling wind. An outboard engine.

Dad!

I jumped to my feet, ran toward the beach and waved my arms in the air―oblivious to the harsh gusts that assaulted me.

“
Over here!” I yelled, drenched to the bone.

Annie joined me and we hollered together.

The small boat drew nearer and I recognized the one person onboard. My father. And he was more furious than the raging storm overhead.

“
We are so in trouble,” I moaned.

Bundled up in warm thermal blankets, Annie and I waited, alone in my living room. My parents returned shortly after seeing off Mrs. Higginson and my classmates. With arms crossed, my mother stood near the rain-streaked window while my father paced angrily in front of us.

Neither of them said a word.

I swallowed hard and glanced at Annie. She appeared as nervous as I was, her bare leg jiggling in apprehension.

I cleared my throat. “Dad, I―”

“
What the heck were you thinking?” my father roared. “You could’ve drowned out there. Didn’t I tell you
never
to swim past the―?”

“
It’s not her fault, Mr. Richardson,” Annie interrupted. “It’s mine.”

My mother cringed and looked away.

“
The doctor’s on his way,” my father said with a frustrated sigh. “And your dad too, Annie.”

He didn’t notice the shiver that racked her small frame.

But I did.

“You promised me, Sarah, that you would never swim past that raft,” my father continued, a harsh edge to his voice.

Annie folded her arms protectively against her chest. “I’m sorry, Mr. Richardson, really I am. It’s all my fault.” Her mouth trembled. “I was stupid.”

“Yes, you were. You
both
were.”

My father studied her for a moment. He picked up one of her arms and turned it slightly, his brow raised in concern. He pursed his lips and I knew that he suspected what I already knew.

“Did you get all of these bruises today?” he demanded.

Annie snatched her arm back. “I, uh―”

A door slammed.

“
Where’s my goddam kid?” a man yelled.

Mr. Pierce staggered into our living room. He reeked of sour beer and cigarettes, and his clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed in months.

“
Where ish-ee?” he slurred. “That little bitch.”

My father’s mouth thinned. “Mr. Pierce, watch the language. There are kids around.”

The man blinked. “What the hell you talkin’ about? She’s my kid. I’ll talk to her how I want.”

When Mr. Pierce noticed me sitting next to his daughter, he scowled. “Get away from that white kid, you worthless piece of―”

“
Mr.
Pierce!
” my father bellowed.

My mother strode to my side and pulled me off the couch. Her arms surrounded me protectively and I could almost taste her fear.

“
C’mon, Annie,” Mr. Pierce growled. “We gotta go home.”

He lurched forward, steadying himself against a table. His expression was a combination of defiance and something else, something more primal―fear.

“
Outside,” my father hissed in a deadly tone.

Standing at least three inches taller, yet weighing much less than Mr. Pierce, my father was no coward. He escorted the man to the front door and I swear I saw Annie’s father actually cringe.

I followed Annie to the door, afraid of what her father would do once they reached their house.

“
Are you going to be all right?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Oh and, uh…thanks.”

On the porch, we anxiously watched as the men exchanged angry words in the pouring rain. Mr. Pierce tried to walk away, but my father grabbed his arm, restraining him. He glanced at Annie, then yelled something in her father’s ear.

I couldn’t make out the words, but I know that whatever he said, it made Mr. Pierce’s face go white as a ghost. Without a word, the man stumbled down the driveway.

As my father joined us on the porch, Annie slid the blanket from her shoulders and motioned for me to take it.

I shook my head. “Keep it. You’ll need it out there.”

“
I’ll bring it to school on Monday,” she said. “See ya.”

She took off, following her father at a safe distance. At the bend, she turned and waved at me. I waved back.

“
Let’s get inside,” my father said. “A storm’s coming.”

A sharp crack of thunder vibrated through the sky.

“
Yeah,” I murmured. “A real big storm.”

At the urging of my mother, I invited Annie to my birthday party the following day. I was surprised when she actually showed up at the door, a gift in hand. Some of my other friends from school came to my party too. Denise gave me a new watch with a stopwatch and light. Goldie gave me an ABBA eight-track, a pair of earrings and a poster of the Bay City Rollers. And Annie gave me a skirt to tie around my bathing suit.

My mother told me I could have two friends sleep over. The ground had dried during the day so Goldie, Annie and I had a sleepover in a tent in my backyard. We stayed up the entire night talking, playing Truth or Dare and listening to my eight-track. At midnight, we told ghost stories and tried to make shadow creatures. It was a great birthday.

When we went back to school the following Monday, I fully expected Annie to return to her constant torment of me. But she greeted me with a smile at the door and walked me to my desk.

If anyone had told me back then that Annie Pierce and I would become friends after I rescued her from certain death, I would have laughed.

But it happened.

Goldie, Annie and I became known as
The Three Warriors
.

That was my father’s brilliant idea. My parents had gone to Victoria to see Dr. Michaels and had seen a movie in the theatre―a western called
Three Warriors
, starring Randy Quaid. That’s how we
got our name. From that moment on, we were inseparable. We went to matinees at the Rec Centre, had countless sleepovers and spent the summer swimming or walking along the shore.

Annie grew in many ways that year. She became a free spirit and everyone was touched by her vivaciousness. Whenever she came over, I couldn’t help but remember my mother’s words.

Forgiveness sets you free.

It was strange, but it was almost as if by saving Annie’s life I had saved her soul. And by forgiving her, both of us had been set free.

But some people didn’t deserve to be forgiven.

Annie’s father was arrested in mid-July. The following month, he was sent to prison for child abuse.

I suspected that my father had something to do with that.

At first, I thought Annie might blame me for the sudden departure of her father, but instead she happily moved in with her aunt who lived on the edge of town.

“
We need a motto,” she said one day. “
The Three Warriors
motto.”

But none of us could think of one.

That weekend, when we were having a sleepover at Goldie’s house, we acted out the story of Sisiutl. Goldie played the monster, Annie played the warrior and I played a fair maiden who needed rescuing. It was then that I remembered what Nana had said the night she first told me Sisiutl’s story.

Great warriors never stop trying.

That became our motto.

Throughout the next year, my mother’s health fluctuated back and forth between bouts of dizziness and periods of healthy calm. By the following summer, she found it difficult to stand and paint, so she began pulling up a chair to the easel. Bit by bit, her stamina was stolen from her. Before long she slept more than she was awake.

In September of ’79, the
Three Warriors
began grade eight. We were placed together in a classroom with an odd-looking―fresh from university―teacher. Mr. Foreman was short, very scrawny with thinning blond hair and his elbows pointed outwards when he walked. We called him
‘Ape-Man’
behind his back. He wore brown thick-framed glasses perched on the tip of his long, crooked nose and he always dressed in open-collared shirts like John Travolta in
Saturday Night Fever
―a movie my mother absolutely adored.