Red’s Bait & Tackle
Apparently, my mom’s some kind of Wabanaki superwoman. Who knew? Okay, so she was always obsessed with rituals and traditions. Dad couldn’t take it. Made him so mad, my mom and him kept fighting over it. I thought it was just superstition. I guess there’s a lot more to it, and she’s started teaching me about all that stuff. It’s pretty cool. I suppose I just have to trust she knows what she’s doing. Red says I’m next, that I’ll inherit her gift. I really don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. I’m not sure I want to inherit mom’s gifts. I hope at least I get to learn a hex or two. There are some boys in school I’d like to place a hex on. Uh. Wait. That sounded really bad, right?
A few more weeks of this, and I’ll even be ready for that fishing trip upstate my uncle’s been threatening to take me on. All I have to watch is what I brought with me when we came here to stay with Uncle Red – and anything with zombies or werewolves is off-limits. I just can’t get into a story that has a pretty girl falling for a hot vampire anymore. It feels very wrong. And there’s nothing to read around here. It’s either Russian authors and poetry, or horror stories about small towns in Maine, and I’ve had more than enough of both. I didn’t mean the thing about the fishing trip. I think it’ll be nice, once this is all over. Uncle Red and me, we get along. He’s teaching me to play chess right now… Oh God, I want to get out of here so bad.
I wish there were more of us here, not just Mom and me and Uncle Red, but others from the tribe. Or even better, that we could just move to the trailer park. But no, that’s impossible. Because, you know, there’s this big disagreement in the tribe, and nobody talks to anybody anymore. I know someone did something bad to someone else, like, forty years ago – I think it had to do with my grandfather – but that was, like, forty years ago. You’d think they’d be over it by now. What’s wrong with people? Why can’t they just work it out? Mom tried, many times, but she always came home crying her eyes out. She gave up years ago. And Uncle Red never talks to any of them. Just goes all quiet and serious whenever someone mentions their names. I mean, I like Uncle Frank and Uncle Joe. They’re a bit gross, but kinda funny. And Old Joseph is pretty cool, too. He’s good at telling stories, even though he gets pretty long-winded at times. I just don’t get it. We’re family; we should be able to at least talk to each other.