Free Washika by Robert A. Poirier

have to know that?”
    â€œIf I don’t make a lunch that makes one extra person here for dinner”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œI just thought you should know.”
    â€œNow I know.”
    â€œYes. I’m working for P’tit-Gus today. Monsieur Hébert, I was wondering?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œWell, does it ever happen? I mean, is it possible someday to have chocolate pudding?”
    Dumas looked at Henri. He smiled without moving his lips, more a look of disgust than a smile, and one that made Henri wish he was standing somewhere else at that moment.
    â€œYou think that this is a summer camp?” he said. “Maybe I should visit in the evenings with cookies and milk? Eh?”
    â€œNo sir.”
    Dumas turned and walked quickly into the kitchen, leaving Henri standing alone in the centre of the cookhouse. Henri felt more a fool than ever. He wished that he had not spoken of the pudding. Then he thought about P’tit-Gus and he wished that he had not gone to see Alphonse, and he wished that he had not become so excited about seeing Lise Archambault later and, finally, he wished that he had buttoned his shirt properly when Alphonse had spoken to him about it.
    Henri left the cookhouse and walked across the yard to the bunkhouse-and-office. Through the screened windows, he could hear Richard Gagnier, the cookee, singing, and pots banging on the stove. As he reached the bunkhouse, he met André Guy. André was carrying his lunch pail and he walked past Henri without looking at him. He was very red around the eyes and there was a swelling above his right cheek.
    Henri entered the bunkhouse-and-office. The students had already left and gone down to the wharf. It reminded Henri of once when he had visited his school during the summer vacation, how empty the classroom had seemed and how he could see each of the faces of his classmates at their desks. He had looked at the dull, black chalkboard and imagined that he could see the words and the numbers that had once been written there.
    â€œYou’re ready?”
    Henri turned quickly. He had felt alone in the room. Now the voice had frightened him. He had not noticed the man sitting by the stove.
    â€œThere’s lots of work to do,” P’tit-Gus declared.
    â€œYes sir,” Henri said, looking down at the man. “But first, I must go see the nurse.”
    â€œDid Alphonse say that?”
    â€œNo sir.”
    â€œAll right, you can go. But remember, you’re working for me today.”
    â€œYes sir.”
    â€œGo and see the nurse then. And after, come back and sweep up this place.”
    â€œYes sir.”
    P’tit-Gus pulled at the string that was tied to his pocket watch. He looked at the watch and put it back in its pocket. He walked over to the door and, turning, looked once around the room and went out.
    Henri looked out the window. He looked at P’tit-Gus making his way to the main sleep camp. It had clouded over once again and he could hear a light rain falling.

Chapter 14
    H enri opened the screen door and then knocked on the thick, hardwood door of the infirmary. It was cold and damp standing on the verandah and his hair was wet from walking across the yard in the rain.
    The door opened and Lise Archambault stood in the open doorway. She was wearing a pink nightgown with lace at the wrists and all down the centre. Her brown hair was untied and it slid over her shoulders and down to the small of her back.
    â€œYes?” she said.
    â€œHello,” Henri said. “It’s about the burn.”
    It was warm in the room and the windows were closed and the curtains hung straight down past the sills. It was almost dark in the infirmary but there was a light coming from the back room.
    â€œThey are waiting for you?” the nurse asked.
    â€œNo, I’m not going out today.”
    â€œYes, well, have a seat then. You have had your breakfast?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI am just