Worst Day Ever

  Chapter 3 – Idol Moments

  “Kokum! pleaded Jackson. “Please come back. Please don’t leave. I’m scared.”

  Jackson looked at his little bent-over Grandma in the shadows of the hall light. She leaned her wrinkled hand on the frame of the door for support. “How could someone so weak be so brave?” he thought.

  “There’s no need for you to be scared Nosisim.” said Kokum in a matter-of-fact voice. But I can’t help you. I’m just an old lady. Talk to God. He’s all powerful. Ask him to tell that thing to get out of your room.”

  “Will you ask him for me Kokum?”

  “Why Me?”

  “He might listen to you better. Maybe he’s mad at me for wanting to use Indian medicine instead of asking for his help.”

  “He might be at that,” said Kokum as she adjusted the cigarettes behind her ears. “Maybe you should apologize. God is jealous when his kids want to spend time with other spirits.”

  “I didn’t know that’s what I was doing. I just wanted to be a good runner.”

  Jackson let his breath out in a sigh and slowly curled his body onto the floor. It just seemed right that he should kneel beside the bed the way he had seen his Kokum do.

  “OK God,” he said into the darkness, “It’s me, Jackson. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you for help in the first place. I guess I got carried away with impressing girls. I’d like to be a fast runner but I want you to help me . . . not other spirits. So will you send that evil thing away now?”

  “In Jesus’ name,” finished Kokum. “You need to ask this ‘in Jesus’ name,” she instructed. “That part is important.” Jesus’ name is the strongest name in the universe.”

  “Amen,” agreed Jackson.

  Jackson couldn’t quite remember when he had fallen asleep but he woke up the next morning with sunlight flooding his room. All was peaceful now. How could he avoid a third upsetting day in a row? He sat up and stretched like a cat as his active brain developed a plan.

  The screen door creaked as Kokum carefully opened and closed it on her way to collect eggs from the chickens. He would have to put his plan into action before everyone else got up.

  “Jackson, get up,” Mom called from the kitchen a little while later. “It’s time for school. The bus will be here any minute. C’mon.”

  “I’m sick Mom,” Jackson said in a whiny voice that he hoped sounded convincing.

  A few moments later he burst out of his bedroom with a strained look on his face, staggered to the bathroom and stood with his back to the open door. Coughing and gagging loudly he bent over the toilet and quickly emptied out a thermos of left over soup that he had in his backpack. Wiping his mouth, he turned and gave his mom a pitiful look. “I feel real hot mom.” he said.

  Jackson’s mom sighed. “You must have the stomach flu,” she said sympathetically. “I’ll go get the thermometer. I hope you don’t have a fever.”

  While Mom went to the kitchen to get the thermometer, Jackson quickly scooted back to his bedroom and pressed an electric heating pad to his forehead. That morning, he had sneaked into Kokum’s room to get it when she had gone to feed the chickens.

  The sound of footsteps came down the hall so he hurriedly stuffed the heating pad between the wall and the bed adjusting his covers over it.

  “Let me feel your forehead . . . Yep. It feels pretty warm,” said Mom as she took the lid off the thermometer and turned it on. “Here, put this under your tongue. I’ll be back in a minute. I have to get Jessie ready for school.”

  As Mom disappeared around the corner of the hall, Jackson took the thermometer out of his mouth and slid it between the warm folds of the heating pad. He got it back into his mouth just in time for her to reappear in his room. “Has it beeped yet?” Mom asked.

  Jackson nodded and gave a weak little cough. Mom frowned as she looked at the thermometer’s display window. She felt Jackson’s forehead again. “You don’t feel that warm.” She shrugged. “I guess you better stay home today. I have to go to work but Kokum can stay with you. Make sure you drink plenty of water, OK?”

  “I will Mom,” said Jackson as he looked up into her concerned face. “Can I play games on my iPad?”

  “Of course you can honey. Just don’t play outside until you feel better and your fever is gone.”

  With that Mom kissed his not-so-warm forehead and hurried out of the room to get ready for work.

  A while later, Jackson heard the screen door slam as Kokum entered with an ice cream bucket full of fresh eggs. He didn’t look up from his game when he heard her stack them into the fridge. He didn’t look up when he heard her walking down the hall toward his room. He didn’t even look up when her body cast a shadow onto his iPad.

  “What’s all the gruntin’ and groanin’ about Nosisim? Are you OK?”

  “Kokum, don’t talk to me now. I’m almost to the next level. No! He crashed into a wall.”

  “Why are you stabbing your little compooter thing with your finger? Don’t break the glass on it.”

  “It’s my new iPad Kokum. You work it by touching the screen like that. I’m playing a cool game on it. Want to see?”

  Kokum took off her old brown work coat and tossed it onto the end of Jackson’s bed. She undid the knot under her chin that tied a flowered scarf around her head. She shook out the red and yellow flowers and carefully stuffed the scarf into the sleeve of her coat. Then she sat down on Jackson’s bed and felt his forehead.

  “So, God answered your prayer and gave you stomach flu did he my boy?”

  Jackson remembered to cough and look sick. “I don’t feel good Kokum. I haven’t been able to eat anything all day.”

  Jackson’s grandma raised her eyebrows. “It’s only 9:30 in the morning Nosisim,” she said.

  “Well I’m still not hungry. I think I should rest now.” Jackson slid back under his blankets and closed his eyes except for a tiny slit. Through it, he watched Kokum gather up her coat and quietly leave the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Then he turned Temple Run back on to see if he could get that guy to run more than 956 meters before crashing. Jackson completely lost track of time as he played game after game. He didn’t even notice when Kokum entered the room a few hours later with a tray of weak tea and bannock.

  “Nosisim, did you want to eat something now?” she asked as she set the warm bannock on his bedside table. “I put a little honey in your tea. That’s what my Kokum used to give me when I had stomach flu . . . tea and honey.” She looked down at the iPad on Jackson’s bed. “How do you play that game?”

  “It’s about a runner as good as Paul Acoose, Kokum. He steals an idol from an old ruined temple and some creepy black monkeys chase after him trying to get it back. He has to jump over tree roots and across bridges to get away from them. There he goes. Try to make him jump.”

  Kokum bent over and tapped the iPad but the runner tripped over a tree root. “Humph,” she grunted. “I don’t know why he wants that idol anyway. Don’t you know that God told us not to have idols? Why do you want to play this game over and over?”

  “Well I can’t practice real running . . . ‘cause I’m sick, so I thought this was the next best thing,” said Jackson as he picked up the piece of bannock. He was just about to take a huge hungry bite when he saw the look on Kokum’s face and took a half-hearted nibble instead. “Thanks for making me bannock. I hope I don’t throw it up.”

  Kokum narrowed her eyes as she looked at Jackson. “I’m goin’ down to the creek to do a little fishin’. Will you be OK?”

  “Sure Kokum. I’ll be fine.”

  Jackson watched from his bedroom window to make sure Kokum was really heading to the river with her fishing gear. Then he rushed to the kitchen and frantically started grabbing food out of the fridge and cupboards. He would have to stock up.

  When the food was safely stored in the back of his closet he settled down with a bag of chips and turned on his iPad.

  Hours turned
into days as Jackson played Temple Run. He skipped out of Saturday work with Mosom Jeremy and stayed home with Dad when everyone went to church on Sunday. By Monday morning his food stash was running low and he was actually starting to feel sick for real.

  “Nosisim.” You have dark circles under your eyes. I think your Mom will have to take you to the doctor today.”

  “I’m OK Kokum, protested Jackson. “All I need is another day of rest.”

  He hoped she would go away so he could keep playing his game. It would be a while before everyone left for work and school. Then he would have to go to the kitchen for another raid so he could stay in his room and play Temple Run. If he really concentrated, it should only take a few more games to reach the next level.

  Jackson squeezed his eyes shut with his thumb and index finger trying to get rid of his headache.

  Dad had already left the house to mend fences. Mom had gone to work. Jessie had gone to school. Now, where was Kokum? Was that the back door? She must be out hanging laundry on the line.

  Jackson made a dash for the kitchen and gathered up as much food as he could. He scurried down the hall to his room and started stashing it all in the back of his closet beneath a pile of old clothes he had grown out of.

  “Nosisim, you dropped the Oreo cookies in the hall.”

  Jackson’s heart stood still in his chest. There was a strange sound roaring in his ears. He didn’t dare turn around to face his Grandma. He wished he could disappear.

  He wished Kokum would disappear too but instead, she came up behind him and started putting all the items from his food stash into an empty white laundry basket.

  “What’s so important about a game that you have to hole up in your room for days without talking to anyone?” she asked quietly.

  “What’s so important about a game that you have to skip your Saturday chores and church?” she persisted. “I always thought you liked helpin’ your Mosom on Saturday and goin’ to church on Sunday.”

  “I guess I just got carried away,” said Jackson when he finally found the courage to speak.

  “You’re just like that crazy moniyas on the game. You grabbed your i . . . idol and ran. You didn’t think about anything else. You played that game all night and all day and forgot everything that’s really important. Did it even make you feel good?”

  “Actually, I feel kind of sick now,” admitted Jackson. “My head is aching. My heart feels sick too.”

  Kokum grunted slightly as she straightened her back. The pile of food in the laundry basket almost hid her face from view but her sharp black eyes narrowed as she watched Jackson walk across the room to his bed.

  “Was that stomach flu God’s idea or yours?”

  Jackson sat down on his messy bed and hung his head.

  “So, you’re too afraid to deal with the kids at school?” asked Kokum.

  “I didn’t know what to say to Rayna about the Indian medicine,” Jackson said without looking up.

  “Impressing girls is more important than standing up for God?” asked Kokum with disapproval in her voice. “And iPod games are more important than going to church to worship him?”

  “It’s an iPad Kokum. iPods plays music.”

  “Humph!” snorted Kokum as she stomped off to the kitchen with fire in her eyes.