My Name Is Not Easy by Edwardson, Dahl (the reading list TXT) 📗

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T H E D A Y T H E S O L D I E R S C A M E / L u k e He’s right. It don’t taste too bad.

“Taste okay?”

I nod my head.

“Want another?”

I say no so fast it makes them chuckle, the one guy taking the cup and putting it back inside the metal container, the other removing his gloves and watching the machine. Th ey

don’t take those aprons off .

“What kind of aprons are those?” I ask, because they look heavy, diff erent from any apron I ever saw.

“Lead,” one of them says. “Keeps the radiation out.”

I swallow, wondering how come they want to keep the radiation out of them but not me. Th

e other doctor just looks

back at me, staring me right in the eye and smiling slow and easy.

“See, everyone has a touch of radiation in their bodies, Luke. Th

at’s why we have to wear these aprons—to

keep our natural radiation from interfering with the results of this test. We want to measure your radiation level, not ours.”

I look at them with those heavy aprons, wondering what a radiation level is.

“You’re like a soldier, now, son,” he says, slugging me soft on the shoulder. “You’re a soldier in the army’s Cold War.”

I’m still wondering about being a soldier when they open the door and let me out. Bunna is standing there next in line, his eyes big as baseballs, his body tense. I grin.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “Th

ey’re on our side. And it don’t hurt.”

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M Y N A M E I S N O T E A S Y

I turn around so all the others can see, too. “See? No bandages!”

Bunna looks me up and down and grins.

I go on down the line, nodding at the other guys until I get to Amiq at the end of the line. Amiq grabs me by the shoulders. Hard.

“What’s in there?” he whispers real sharp.

“It’s nothing,” I tell him. “Just two doctors and some machines. Th

ey put a bunch of wires on you and make

you drink this juice and then they sit there watching their machines. It don’t hurt.”

“What kind of juice, ” Amiq says, spitting out the word juice like it’s burned his tongue. “What kind?”

“I don’t know. Iodine something. Iodine-131. It’s a weird green color.”

“Jesus, ” Amiq says, and the way he says it makes my skin crawl, makes me turn and look at Bunna, suddenly scared.

But Bunna’s already on his way into the room, and I can feel that green juice starting to boil inside me like battery acid.

I turn back to ask Amiq about it, but Amiq’s gone now, too.

Just like that.

Back in class, Father Flanagan looks us over carefully in a way that makes me feel weird. Father frowns when he sees Amiq’s empty seat.

“His stomach was bothering him, Father. I think maybe he’s gone to the infi rmary,” I say. I don’t even know what made me say it; it just came out, like a hiccup. Lying.

Junior looks at me, nervous.

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T H E D A Y T H E S O L D I E R S C A M E / L u k e

“Th

ey made us drink a green substance, Father,” Junior says. “Maybe it didn’t agree with him.”

“Th

ey did?” Chickie asks, looking at Bunna.

“Tasted sweet, and kinda oily,” Bunna says, wrinkling his nose.

Father Flanagan gets a funny look on his face like he doesn’t want to hear any more. Th

en he opens his Latin book

and strides over to the blackboard.

“All right then,” he says.

“Father?” Junior says.

Th

ere’s a new sound in Junior’s voice, a concern that even Father hears. He turns around, head cocked, looking at Junior.

Waiting.

“Did they ask our parents about those tests, Father? Did our parents give permission?”

Father looks startled. “Why yes, Junior, I’m sure they did.”

But his voice don’t sound sure. Not at all.

Bunna and I look at each other. We know our mom, and we don’t fi gure she’d say it’s okay to make us drink some kind of oily green stuff that looks like it could just about glow in the dark. But Mom would trust soldiers, just like she trusted the Church with Isaac. She always would.

“But, of course, you know, the school acts in loco parentis while you kids are here,” Father says.

In loco parentis. I know those words somehow. I feel them.

It is not a good feeling.

“What’s that mean?” Bunna asks.

“It’s Latin,” Father says. “Let’s fi gure it out.”

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M Y N A M E I S N O T E A S Y

“In place of parents,” Junior says quietly.

“Th

e school is here for us in place of our parents,” O’Shay adds.

“Right,” says Father. “Quite right.”

For some reason, thinking about Mom makes me think

about Uncle Joe and hunting, which makes me remember about the killer whales. Uncle Joe says killer whales understand Iñupiaq, and if you’re a good person and you ask, they’ll help.

Even though we’re about a thousand miles away from the sea, I can feel them out there, just under the surface of things.

Waiting.

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The Meanest Heathens

APRIL 5, 1962, 8:00 A.M.

SONNY AND AMIQ

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Th

e soldiers had showed up at the cafeteria that day, right in the middle of breakfast, right