34. Jon-Ante
JON-ANTE
1955
Now it was njuk?amánnu, the month of swans. In Swedish, March was called “mars,” and Teacher told them it used to be called “spring month.” But it wasn’t spring at all, there was still a meter of snow on the ground. Jon-Ante liked the trumpeting call of the swans, and he was amazed at how easily they could fly despite their heavy bodies and long necks.
Aslak, too, heard the swans as they walked to the store.
“Nilsa shot a swan once,” he said. His tone was light, but his face said something different.
“Manin?” Jon-Ante replied. They were speaking Sámi, brave enough now that they were far from the school. And Jon-Ante really wanted to know why. Why would anyone shoot a swan?
“I don’t know. And after, the other swan was all alone. I saw it later, it got frozen in the ice and died.” Aslak kicked clumps of snow; they flew off into snowdrifts. Lisbet had sent them out to buy butter and sugar, having miscalculated what she needed for pancakes to go with today’s pea soup. She had been careful to send Jon-Ante along with Aslak.
“How did he get hold of a rifle?”
“We have an air gun. Our áddjá taught Nilsa to shoot it.” Aslak paused. “Wanna spy on somebody?”
“I don’t think we have time.”
“What about after?” Aslak never would have suggested spying if Nilsa weren’t tucked in bed in the isolation room with the stomach flu. He turned into a different person the moment Nilsa wasn’t around, and he often sought out Jon-Ante in the classroom, where they were safe from the big boys. It was strange, but in some way they made sense together, he and Aslak.
“Maybe,” said Jon-Ante. “But who would we spy on?”
“We can always find someone.”
Aslak typically just looked on whenever Nilsa went after Jon-Ante. But sometimes he closed his eyes as though he didn’t want to be there. Jon-Ante had noticed this once while lying on the ground, looking up at the boys encircling him. Another time, Nilsa made Aslak hit Jon-Ante when they were all taking turns punching him. Aslak stared at the ground the whole time, and his fist relaxed into a palm as it struck Jon-Ante’s stomach. The others laughed at his limp hands, but it had given a relieved Jon-Ante time to breathe as he waited for the next boy, who wouldn’t hold back.
The swans trumpeted over the village again, and Aslak imitated their call.
“I’ll race you,” he called. “First one to the light pole wins. Ready, set, go!”
They ran and laughed out loud when their hands slapped the pole at the same time. They took off their mittens and made V signs for victory.
Before entering the store, they jumped up and down to knock the snow from their boots. As usual, they ended up by the very tempting candy display. The store was owned by Ragnar, and some children at school had said he was rich as a troll.
“Well then, boys, what’ll it be today?”
“Sugar and butter.” Swedish came easier for Jon-Ante these days, and he was astounded at how quickly he had learned.
“Will you give us some candy?” Aslak grinned beside Jon-Ante.
Ragnar gave a booming laugh and his belly bounced. “If I gave you Lapp kids a piece of candy every time you came in I would go bankrupt.”
He didn’t say “Lapp kids” the way other people did, there was nothing mean in his tone. His wife, though, was different; she always sounded cross and curt. Lisbet said once that Vega had been born grumpy.
“Just one,” Aslak begged.
“Your teeth will fall out,” Ragnar said, turning around to take some sugar from the shelf.
“We brush them very thoroughly,” Jon-Ante said, feeling rather excited to say something so bold.
“Oho, I see you’ve started talking more,” Ragnar said with a big smile. “Well, I suppose that’s worth a piece of candy.”
He dug the scoop into one of the tubs and dropped a sweet red treat into each of their hands. They popped them in their mouths and were quick to thank him in every language: “Tack. Kiitos. Giitu.”
When they went outside, Vega was in the yard, talking to another lady, each of them next to a kick sled. Vega was short and fat and had a big double chin; the other lady was just as short but she was very skinny and had sharp cheekbones. They seemed to be absorbed in a serious conversation.
“Come on!” Aslak said, pulling Jon-Ante around the corner of the store. “We can spy on those two!”
Jon-Ante wanted to object, say that they were just boring old ladies, but he liked the soft feeling of Aslak’s hand around his upper arm and nodded eagerly.
The women resumed their kick-sledding, with one foot on a runner, kicking along with the other. The road wasn’t giving a very good glide, the boys could tell, and soon the women began to walk with their hands resting on the handles.
Aslak and Jon-Ante snuck from tree to tree. The women’s discussion had turned cheerful, and they were heading up the hill toward the church as the boys slipped in and out behind houses and sheds, full of giggles.
The ladies panted slightly and slowed down. They stopped for a moment so Vega could retrieve a handkerchief from her pocket, and she blew her nose loudly.
“Now listen to this.” She glanced around, and Jon-Ante and Aslak quickly pressed up against the side of a red shed, pricking their ears. “Ture Olsson was seen with another woman in Kiruna.”
“What on earth?”
Jon-Ante peered out cautiously.
“That’s right. But it would be no wonder, if it’s even true.” Vega nodded at the nomad school. “To think he ever got together with old Rita.”
Jon-Ante turned around and raised his eyebrows at Aslak, who mirrored his expression.
“She struts around the village, thinking she’s really something. She’s no more than a common child-minder.”
They began to push the kick sleds slowly onward, and Jon-Ante and Aslak missed some of their words.
“Come on! We need to hear more!” Jon-Ante snuck through the snow and two scrawny birch trees became their next shield.
“… and no children of their own.”
“I heard from Lisbet that she’s too hard on the pupils, that she beats them black and blue.” Vega coughed. “Serves her right, if Ture found someone new. I suppose it’s too bad for him, though, he could have ended up with a better wife.”
“Like one who could have given him babies, too. To think he’s stayed all these years, I can’t fathom it.”
Now there were neither trees nor houses in front of them, and the women would soon reach the church. The boys wouldn’t overhear any more. Aslak grinned as they returned to the road. “We are the best at spying! Did you hear them? They said Housemother is mean.”
“Yup.”
They walked close together, their arms brushing. Jon-Ante hadn’t understood much of what the women said. That Ture guy, they’d met him only once, when he was waiting for Housemother in the common room. He’d introduced himself to the children and taken a seat on the sofa, laughing a lot and asking questions. Ture was the one who had brought the newspaper article about the nomad school to show them; the children had flocked around him as he read it aloud. He’d asked Lisbet for tacks to hang up the article by the front door. The girls in the picture next to Housemother couldn’t get enough of looking at themselves.
“An extra mama to you all,” Ture said, looking smug.
Jon-Ante didn’t understand, and when Johánas whispered to him in Sámi that the paper said Housemother was their extra mother, he couldn’t believe it.
“Does it really say that?”
“Juoa.”
Jon-Ante and Aslak dragged their feet the last little bit to the dormitory.
“Now we know a secret,” Aslak said.
“Yup.”
They exchanged glances and giggled, even though Jon-Ante wasn’t entirely sure what that secret was. He wondered if Aslak had understood more than he did, but he didn’t want to ask and risk seeming stupid.
Their cheeks were rosy and their noses cold when they came into the kitchen, where Lisbet welcomed them with her warm smile.
“Thank you, boys!” She patted them gently and Jon-Ante wanted her hand to stay there, at the small of his back. He pressed a little closer to Aslak for a moment. “My, don’t you two look pleased as punch! Did you get candy again?”
“Better!” said Aslak. “But we did get candy too.”
Lisbet looked pleased and waved them off. “Go out and play now, before supper.”
Jon-Ante liked her so much. She had found him crying in the cellar more than once and had held him in her arms until it passed. The article should have been about Lisbet, because she was an extra mama for real. Just like Anna had been.