Whale Song Read Online Free PDF Page B

gift,” Goldie said mysteriously.
    “ What?” I asked.
    She told me that sometimes Nana would simply look at someone and prescribe them a special remedy―before they even knew they were sick.
    “ That’s because she sees auras,” Goldie said.
    She explained to me that auras were colored lights that her grandmother saw around someone’s head or body. Few people saw those lights. Only those with ‘the gift’ .
    Nana was a wise woman―in more ways than I realized.
     
    The following weekend, Goldie invited me to stay for a sleepover. We raced back to my place to get permission from my parents. Then we collected my pajamas, toothbrush and some games.
    Back at her house, we unrolled sleeping bags in the loft overlooking the living room. The ceiling was slanted and we had to duck in some areas. Once, I forgot and walked straight into the beam. Goldie spent the rest of the night yelling “Duck!” every time I stood up.
    That night, we munched on homemade trail mix and buttery popcorn. We told stories and giggled long into the night―until Goldie’s mom yelled at us to go to sleep.
    The Dixons were very nice, even when we kept them up until the wee hours of the morning. Mr. Dixon was a commercial fisherman and was often out on his fishing boat. Mrs. Dixon wove beautiful baskets with pictures of animals on them. She sold her baskets in a charming craft shop in town.
    Every morning, they left Goldie and her sister Shonda with Nana for most of the day. Shonda was a quiet child. We rarely ever saw her. She spent most of the time with Nana, helping her in the kitchen. The Dixon house always smelled like fresh-baked cookies and warm bread and Nana often gave me treats to take home to my mother.
    One day, she taught me how to make bannock―fried bread served warm and dripping with butter and honey. I made a perfect batch, according to her.
    “ Are you sure you aren’t Indian?” she teased in her raspy voice.
    She would often comment on my dark coloring and my love for nature. She said that I was part Indian, but that I just didn’t know which part yet.
    I think she made it her duty to help me find it.
    Usually when I slept over, we’d have a bonfire outside. We’d sit around the crackling fire and roast hotdogs and marshmallows on sharpened sticks.
    Nana would tell us incredible stories. Sometimes, she’d even act them out. I loved listening to her―especially her old Nootka legends. She would mesmerize us with the adventures of Eagle or Bear. She would scare us with stories of strange and fierce creatures.
    Then one night, she told us the legend of Sisiutl.

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    “ Sisiutl was a great sea monster,” Nana said in her raspy voice. “It roamed the land and sea of the Nootka and Kwakiutl peoples. The monster was huge and ugly, with two great heads. And it could change into different shapes and sizes. Sisiutl could disguise itself, so it could prey upon unsuspecting animals or humans. It was believed that anyone who looked upon this great monster would be turned to stone.”
    She turned her back to us for a moment. When she whipped her head around and roared, I shrieked, toppling backward over the log that I was sitting on.
    “ It’s a mask,” Goldie said with a giggle as she helped me up.
    I stared at Nana, horrified.
    Her wrinkled face had been transformed into a terrifying, grotesque creature. The mask was made of wood and painted in dark, bright colors. Spiked black hair sprung from the top, and it had long earlobes and tattoos on its face. But it was the mask’s expression that frightened me most. The creature’s eyes bulged, its mouth a huge gaping hole. A permanent scream.
    “ My great, great grandfather once knew a man who met with this monster,” Nana said, her voice muffled by the mask. “His body is still frozen in stone, somewhere in the mountains.”
    She hobbled over to a huckleberry bush and picked a handful of the tiny red berries. She crushed them between her hands.
    “ It is believed