Ryan gave us a packed lunch and we walked to our new high school: Kirkland Lake Collegiate Vocational Institute. The school was bigger than any building I’d ever seen. Kids stood in groups on the lawn, and everyone was in a hurry. We’d already been given our timetables and each of us looked at the times and room numbers, and then began scrambling trying to find the right door. I arrived late for my first class. Not that it mattered much. I walked in, apologized and sat down. My teacher, Mrs. Karr, didn’t slap me. She didn’t go and send another student for her whip. She didn’t even shout. She simply pointed to an empty chair, and I went to the back of the class, where the other native students were sitting. It was lunchtime and we were sitting in the high school cafeteria with about three hundred people. It was packed in there, but luckily, all the St. Anne’s students sat together. “How’s your first day at KLCVI?” Fred asked. “Kirkland Lake Collector of Various Indians!”
