Murphy & Mousetrap by Sylvia Olsen Page B

placed fish and potatoes next to the butter and salt and pepper.
    â€œMmmm,” Murphy said as he sat down. “Supper looks good.”

2
    â€œHow was your day at school?” Mom asked. She sat at one end of the table, and Murphy sat at the other. The window was between them on one side, and Mousetrap sat on the chair opposite the window.
    â€œGood,” Murphy said. He plopped a pile of mashed potatoes next to his fish. “Real good.”
    After he smoothed out a gully in the top of the potatoes and filled it with soft butter, he said, “I found a really cool green stone on the way home.”
    Mom said, “Great,” and then she added, “I got a new job today.”
    â€œOh, yeah?”
    Murphy didn’t know much about the work Mom did. He knew Mom left early in the morning and arrived home in time to make supper. Except Saturday and Sunday. Those days they spent together. The other thing Murphy knew was Mom’s job never paid quite enough money to buy everything they needed. Sometimes Mom couldn’t afford to pay the phone bill if she talked too much long distance. Other times she didn’t have enough money to buy milk for the whole week, and by Friday Murphy had to eat toast and jam instead of cereal for breakfast.
    â€œI’ll make a lot more money, and we’ll get to move home.”
    â€œThat’s good,” Murphy said. Mom would be happy if she had enough money to take him to a movie or out for lunch.
    He pulled a strip of salmon off his plate, checked for bones and tossed it on the chair in front of Mousetrap. Mousetrap rubbed his pink nose into the fish and lapped it happily into his mouth.
    â€œWhat do you mean, we’ll get to move home?” Murphy asked.
    â€œWith Grandma.” Murphy could tell from the look on Mom’s face that she was happy about moving and her new job. “We’re going to move back to the reserve. To Grandma’s place up island where I lived when I was a kid.”
    Murphy remembered Grandma’s house. He had visited in the summer. When he got there his cousins had chased him around the field and up the street until he ran into the house and hid in the bathroom. He ended up sitting next to Mom almost the whole day while she talked to Grandma, Auntie Jean and Uncle Charlie.
    When Mom told him to go out and play with Albert and Danny, he said he wasn’t feeling well. It was true. He wasn’t feeling well, and the more he thought about playing with the boys, the worse he felt. They came in once or twice and said, “Come on, Murphy. We’re gonna play soccer,” but he could tell from the sound of their voices that playing soccer with them wouldn’t be safe.
    Mom called Grandma’s place the Indian reserve. Sometimes she called it the First Nation,but she never called it home. Grandma’s place wasn’t home. Not for Murphy.
    â€œThis is our home,” Murphy said.
    â€œBut we’ll get to live with my family,” Mom said. “You’ll love it.”
    â€œWe’re family,” Murphy said. “You, me and Mousetrap.”
    Mom wasn’t thinking the same way as Murphy, and he didn’t like what she said.
    â€œThere’ll be other boys around. You won’t be so lonely, all on your own. And there’ll be your aunties and uncles.”
    â€œI’m not lonely,” Murphy said. “This is home. I have you and Mousetrap.”
    Why did Mom have to talk about moving home? They had a perfectly good home.
    He looked around the kitchen. His drawings and paintings covered one wall—some he had done as long ago as kindergarten. Fridge magnets held up photos of Mom and Mousetrap and Murphy and photos of the camping trip with Bernie and Chas, Mom’s best friends. Murphy thought about when he helped Mom cut the curtain to fit the kitchen window, and how he had chosen the kitchenwallpaper himself—colorful blue and green