This is the final chapter. You can read the whole book starting here. Buy the book here: Growing Up Itchy

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“Go back to Europe, white boy!”

This statement and the harsh tone that accompanied it was so vehement that Grey almost stopped walking. Spirit, a local native boy about Grey’s age, stood at the door in front of him, arms crossed. A group of Spirit’s friends stood near. They watched to see what Grey would do next.

Gathering inner resolve, he recovered from the verbal attack and pushed past Spirit into the gym. Spirit did not step aside to let him pass, and they brushed shoulders.

“Never been there,” Grey muttered as he passed. He could feel their eyes piercing his back like thorns as he went into the locker room, and familiar blood rushed in his ears. Spirit… what a silly name. Old, traditional names were common here among the locals on the reservation.

The gym was a corrugated tin building, like a big beige box. It was about a half-mile down the road from their house, and Grey would have never gone there except Dad had enrolled him in basketball.

“It’ll be good for you,” Dad said. “You can make some new friends; learn some teamwork.”

Grey grumbled inwardly at this. He didn’t need new friends, he wanted old friends! No thanks, he thought. He knew better than to voice his complaints out loud, Dad never did tolerate back-talking.

Grey carried basketball shoes – the first white shoes he had ever owned. He wasn’t allowed to wear them anywhere except inside the gym. They were called “high-tops,” and were a strange mix of puffy shoes and boots. Although Grey and his family were never intentionally fashionable, he ended up with high-tops because they were sold everywhere in the early 1980’s, even in their remote corner of the country.

“Those won’t last a minute in the woods or in the creek.” Dad told him. “Too expensive to destroy.”

Grey hated the way they glowed like bright lights glued to the end of his legs. They just screamed look at me! They completely spoiled his habitual, continuous efforts to blend in. But oh, they felt great! They were more comfortable than any shoes he had ever worn.

He felt the staring eyes of the Indian boys as they watched him enter the gym. Maybe it’s these blasted shoes, he thought. They’re too nice and they’re jealous. He wished that he could wear no shoes, or perhaps plain shoes that didn’t attract attention, but the floor of the gym would get all marked up from anything but white soles.

Basketball was a horrible affair, something like torture for a boy who didn’t care much about sports. The local pastor organized and coached the team in an outreach effort, and Grey joined the pastor’s oldest son as the only “white” kids on the team. He had never thought of being white before. It was strange to think of himself or anyone in this way – but now on the reservation, the reality of race was staring him in the face. He was reminded daily that he did not belong in this place, and he felt it deeply. The local Indian kids spent a lot of time making comments about this, and they seemed to get agitated whenever Grey was within earshot. “Going back to Europe” was often said, despite the fact that Grey went out of his way to avoid conflict.

Grey was no athlete, but he was in good shape from endlessly playing outdoors. They didn’t have luxuries like television, video games, mobile phones, or computers, those things were expensive, rare, or non-existent back then. In addition, Mom never bought junk food or sweet things like soda or candy, and desserts consisted of her infamous carob brownies. So, physical ability was limited only by desire and genetic heritage. Basketball was just plain hard, but Grey did his very best, which was pretty much exactly average. He had neither desire or the athletic heritage.

It didn’t take much longer than a week before the local boys pinned Grey’s infrequent success on the court as a result of “luck” or being the “teacher’s pet.” Spirit stood out as the leader of the Indian gang, and regularly instigated these charges. The rest of the pack took their cues from him, and he made it clear that they would not ever make peace with Grey.

As much as Grey hated basketball, he quickly learned that he was among the best in that particular group. Only the pastor’s own son was better – having been raised in a “sports family” and all. An average kid like Grey could pretend to be halfway decent in that tiny reservation town. It wasn’t any sort of triumph, but Grey was secretly gleeful – and honestly surprised – about being able to outperform Spirit and his buddies in layups and free-throws. Serves them right, because they’re so mean.

Grey was older, about equal in age to the group of Indian kids, and could suffer through the taunts, but not his brother. Ash quit basketball after the first day. The Indian boys were particularly hard on him, being younger; and Ash never went back. No amount of cajoling on Dad’s part could change Ash’s mind. His decision had been made with such fierce intensity that a team of wild ponies couldn’t have dragged him back to the gym. Grey and Ash were not accustomed to bullies.

Changing there in the locker room was not open for discussion. Grey always left immediately after practice was over. It was only a half-mile to the house, and walking home in sweaty clothes was much better than getting in a fight with six or seven other boys. He hated conflict, and knew he couldn’t win against those odds.

Grey endured basketball gloomily, and the Indian boys endured Grey’s relative success at it with much bitterness.

Grey would have dreamed of moving back to the Christian House, but he knew that was as unlikely as becoming blood brothers with Spirit. It was only about thirty minutes away, but it might as well be on the other side of the galaxy. The whole family, except for Dad, had come to know and think of the Svensonns as close friends, but Dad had not lived there long enough to develop any sort of fondness for them. There were no visits. They never went back to the little prairie town of Wilbur – except once.

Life as Grey knew it was about to change – again.

“Boys, hop in the truck, we’re running an errand,” Dad said, with a secretive smile.

“Where are we going?” Ash asked.

“It’s a surprise – we’re going to run up by Wilbur.”

Grey’s ears perked up at this, and he stood, shocked. Dad piled them all in the truck and off they went, the whole family. Grey and Ash rode in the back.

“What are we going to do?” Asher asked.

Grey shrugged, “It’s a surprise of some sort.”

“It’s probably a dumb surprise,” Ash added. He was not one for optimism while they lived on the reservation.

Grey did not dare get his hopes up, but where else could they be going but to the Christian House? There was no other reason to go to Wilbur that he could think of. Maybe Mom left something there and they needed to go back to pick it up.

I should have been listening better to the conversations they have late at night, Grey lamented to himself. He didn’t usually spy, but something suspicious was afoot. He could feel it.

Mom seemed interested. Not exactly happy, but she got into the truck with a sense of purpose. She knew where they were going, and maybe she didn’t mind so much. It was hard to tell how she felt today, and Grey was puzzled by this. He could usually read her pretty well.

The fact was that Mom’s prayers had been answered – the family was whole again. She hoped the future held something that would be a step in the right direction, an improvement.

Grey and Ash rode in the back. They faced forward and kept their eyes ahead, on the road, looking for their destination.

Dad drove out to Wilbur, just as Grey thought he would, but they didn’t stop there. Grey’s heart lifted as he spotted the old hotel, but they continued on past it. The small town diminished behind them, and Grey gloomily noticed the endless rippling fields of wheat slide by. Pine forests didn’t grow out here.

Dad took a few turns along country roads, and eventually they stopped at a farm.

The owner strolled out from around the corner and greeted Dad with a smile. He led them all back around to the shed, and next to it, sat an old school bus, surrounded by a patch of weeds that hedged it in like a protective screen.

Dad did something Grey never would have guessed. Dad bought that school bus from the farmer.

“I hope you like your new home!” Dad said.

“Uh…” Grey stammered. Was Dad joking?

The bus was white with orange and yellow stripes. Dad told the boys they could ride in it, and he started it up. Grey was a bit surprised that it started – being surrounded by high weeds and all. They drove home. It was kind of fun to ride in that bus, but as they drove back past the Christian House, Grey craned his neck, remembering. He saw the little window at street level – the workshop. He remembered the creek and dragging up crawdads with Ash and Hannah. He hoped to get a glimpse of someone – anyone there, but he could see nobody outside.

As they left the small town behind, Grey sat in the back of the bus – looking out the rear window, his gaze fixed on the old hotel until it passed out of sight. He knew it would be the last time he saw it, and he felt like crying. He would not, of course, he was too old, but he felt like it just the same. He sat at the back of the bus for the remainder of the trip home.

They rumbled up to the little HUD house and Grey despised the scene they made. All of the Indian kids were poking their heads out of doors, coming around from backyard, or stopping to gape at the bus, and once again Grey felt the weight of too many eyes. It was downright embarrassing, like the too-white basketball shoes.

They disembarked among a small crowd like third-rate royalty. Dad told them what the plan was, how he was going to fix up the bus – making it like a little house, a camper of sorts.

Live in that thing? Grey’s idea of what a proper dwelling was had changed over the last few years, but this was downright weird.

“It’ll be nice,” Dad said, beaming. “Each of you kids will have a bunk, and we’ll have a shower with hot water, a kitchen, and everything.”

It was all so peculiar. Grey and Ash were eager to leave this awful Indian reservation, but the plan that unfolded was weird.

The boys discussed it in whispers after they were in bed.

“We’re moving south?” Ash asked.

“I guess,” Grey said.

“I’ll be happy to leave these Indians,” Ash stated. He did not varnish his opinion of them.

Grey agreed. “Me too. But what if we end up in India?”

“More Indians. That would stink,” Asher half-joked.

“Yeah. I wish we were still in Wilbur,” Grey said. He missed living back on the mountain too. Perhaps the next place would be better.

At that moment, he could not help but feel the tiniest glimmer of hope at the thought. They’d be on the bus, gone from this place, and who knows what sights they would see. Perhaps some good ones.

Grey slept fitfully that night, strange dreams ruined his rest. He tossed and rolled as he fought Indians, but it was too small to fight on the bus, so they had to all squeeze out the tiny door. Then somehow he and Hannah were playing in the creek, but Dad rose up out of the water and told him to get back on the bus. But it was too small! Maybe if we paint it brown, Grey said, then it can be like the hotel – and we’ll all fit. So Dad painted the bus brown, but all of the Indians came on board.

Spirit sat in the very front seat and told Grey to go away to Texas.

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Dad worked hard on the bus for months, hammering, sawing, wiring, and plumbing. He had learned a thing or two since building their little shack on the mountain, and he was determined to make this bus conversion his best work yet. He ran errands on weekends, driving to distant towns to buy parts and supplies. He would get home from work as early as possible, to spend his evenings inside the bus, transforming it into a thing that could house a family of six.

All of the seats were torn out, and a big bed was built across the back. That was to be Mom and Dad’s room, and it had a door. Just outside that room was a little closet with a tiny water heater. A little shower stood next to it. Across the aisle on the other side were bunks for the kids, three of them, for the smaller children. Apparently Grey would sleep up front, on the long seat under the table, in the dining area, next to the front door.

Mom made curtains on her treadle sewing machine, and hung them across the windows. They could be pulled shut whenever they wanted privacy; which, in Grey’s mind, would be all the time. Why can’t we just paint over the windows? he thought.

The slow turning of Aspen leaves along the creek announced that autumn had arrived. The air held a hint of coolness, winter would soon be on its way.

“It’ll be nice and warm where we’re going,” Dad told them cheerfully.

The conversion of the old school bus into a tiny house on wheels was just about complete. Mom and Dad had been selling or giving away things over the last few months, in an effort to reduce the amount of stuff. Everything they owned had to fit in that bus, but Grey was a little bit sorry to see the Indians take away their things.

Mom and Dad filled the bus with necessities and supplies, and Dad strapped some larger items onto the roof. Asher’s bike was secured up there, on a big metal luggage rack, along with crates and boxes. Grey’s bike was not coming along for the trip; it had been recently stolen. He was certain it had been nabbed by Spirit and his gang, and he grimaced at the thought. He had never been robbed before and it ate at him.

Finally, Dad traded their old pickup truck for a deer. Deer jerky, to be exact. He struck a bargain with one of the local Indian men, and they jerked the whole deer on an old mattress frame, suspended over a fire. They laid piece after piece of wet venison onto the rusty wires, and there it cooked slowly. The venison was spiced with peppers and salt, and Grey surprised himself by loving it. He thought it was one of the best things he had ever tasted. He wasn’t sure it was worth a whole truck though.

With the truck gone and the house empty, they had nowhere to go but onto the bus. As the final items were loaded, something like eagerness crept into their actions. Beth and Mal played happily on the back bed, and Grey helped Dad kick the tires.

“On a vehicle this heavy, we don’t want to drive without plenty of air pressure,” Dad told him. “It would hurt the tires and maybe cause a blowout.”

They checked the oil, and the water in the radiator; Dad instructing Grey on the procedure. It would be Grey’s job to do this at the start of each day from now on, and he was pleased to have the important task.

Finally, Dad turned the key, and the engine roared to life.

“Say goodbye to the reservation, kids!” Dad yelled back. He pulled out of the driveway onto the paved road, heading south.

Grey and Asher looked out the windows at that awful town. They were not sad to leave at all. Today is a great day!

“I think I like traveling,” Ash said, trying his best to be positive.

I can’t believe we’re going to be missionaries, Grey thought. Seems dangerous.

His feelings of relief at leaving the reservation soon changed into something akin to hope, which grew on him as each mile marker crawled past. They were all together on this bus, Mom and Dad seemed to be friends again, and new places beckoned. As Grey watched the pines slide past the bus window, he remembered the other times they had left a home. Not since moving to the mountain when he was very little had he felt anything other than trepidation. This time, it was different. He was glad to move. The future wasn’t back on the reservation, it was somewhere out across America. It was good to feel hopeful again. The scrub hills and pines Grey had known since he was little passed outside the windows, and he hummed quietly to himself.

He held the pine squirrel carving in his lap – it would always remind him of their time back on the mountain. He examined it closer, and a realization dawned on him. The crack running up the side of seemed to have stopped getting bigger.

Maybe it was time to officially call it done – maybe it was time to start working on something new.

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This is the final chapter of the book Growing Up Itchy by Ian Smith, Copyright Ian Smith, 2017.

I hope you have enjoyed this book! If you could like to own a hard copy, you can purchase it on Amazon here. (I will make a couple dollars.) Click here to view all chapters online.