By Debby Dahl Edwardson
ISBN-10: 0761459804
ISBN-13: 9780761459804
ISBN-10: 0761460918
ISBN-13: 9780761460916
From the 2011 nationwide ebook Award Finalist Debby Dahl Edwardson, My identify isn't really effortless. My identify isn't effortless. My identify is tough like ocean ice grinding the shore . . . Luke is familiar with his I?upiaq identify is filled with sounds white humans can’t say. So he leaves it at the back of whilst he and his brothers are despatched to boarding college hundreds and hundreds of miles clear of their Arctic village. At Sacred center college, students—Eskimo, Indian, White—line up on assorted aspects of the cafeteria like there’s a few form of struggle occurring. the following, talking I?upiaq—or any local language—is forbidden. And Father Mullen, whose fury is sort of a strength of nature, is able to slap down those that disobey. Luke struggles to outlive at Sacred center. yet he’s no longer the one one. There’s smart-aleck Amiq, a bold chief— if he doesn’t self-destruct; Chickie, blond and freckled, a unique type of outsider; and small, quiet Junior, noticing every little thing and writing all of it down. They each one have their very own tale to inform. yet as soon as their separate tales come jointly, issues at Sacred center School—and the broader world—will by no means be a similar.
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Sample text
At first we don’t even hear the sound of the car behind us, but when we finally do, it don’t matter. The only place to go is 43 M Y N A M E I S N OT E A S Y down, straight down, which would take wings. We’re trapped. It’s a priest, driving that long, skinny car. The same car that took Isaac away—same priest, too, I bet. He’s driving slow, like he’s hunting. “Shoot,” I say, looking down the mountainside. Shoot. Breathing it out quick, like a bullet. They got us now. The priest pulls up alongside us, but it’s a different priest, a younger one.
The old man’s frown lifts just a bit. ” he asks. “Were,” Bunna says. “We’re headed home,” I add quick, giving Bunna a look. “Road’s that way,” old man says, tilting his head as he runs his fingers over the barrel of his gun. Bunna and I shift, uncomfortable. “You boys making too damn much noise. ” When he moves toward us with that gun, we know we’re done for, and both of us jump up and start running like our bodies are connected by one single muscle, a runaway muscle. We run out across the tundra and off through the black woods, leaping over fallen trees and rocks and bushes without even looking back, not once.
He peers down at Bunna. ” But I don’t. ” the priest asks. Bunna shakes his head. I stare out the window. The priest’s boney white hand grips that steering wheel, one finger still tapping—a long, sharp pointer finger. “Well, it’s like this,” he says. “The Lord gives each of us talents—each special skills—and he expects us each to use them for others. That’s what we’re doing here—volunteering our talents for the sake of the school. ” He frowns down into the valley. “Now, me, I’m not much 45 M Y N A M E I S N OT E A S Y of a hunter, but I do know a thing or two about carpentry.
My Name Is Not Easy by Debby Dahl Edwardson
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