Trapped in 1867

Chapter 7: Darkness

After six days of travel, Gauri and Ben finally reach Ottawa, only Thomas has one more stop he needs to make first.

CTo do list:

1. Spend less time worrying about what to write in my diary 2. Spend more time embracing the life of 1867 3. Ignore Ben’s negative attitude 4. Get over the fact the battery has now died on my phone

January 23rd, 1867 Evening.

Yes, my battery died. I now have to rely on analog clocks found in and around the city. Big hand = minutes. Little hand= hours. Got it.

6:45ish PM

I found a clock. It’s in Thomas McGregor’s home. He has invited us to stay with him. His dad is still sick with TB (that’s short for Tuberculosis). His name is Patrick James McGregor, but he tells us to just call him Pat. He seems nice, but is deathly sick and has to stay in a shed outside. His face is kind, just like his son’s.

Thomas’ mother is a teacher at a school in Richmond Landing (no clue where that is). We haven’t met her yet.

“You can sleep in the attic,” Thomas says to us as we warm our hands by the fire next to the kitchen. A pot of stew is already boiling.

“This house smells like potatoes and mould,” Ben announces, rubbing his hands together. “Do you guys have WiFi?” I elbow him again. “Ouch,” he shrieks. “What was that for?”

The house does smell, but it’s cute. It’s filled with artwork on the walls, candles hanging from the ceiling and animal fur everywhere—like I mean, everywhere.

Through the small window by the back door I see a face peering in. It’s the girl again. OMG. Is she following me? Who is she and what does she

MYwant?

February 12th, 1867 2:24 AM

This is my first entry since we arrived in Ottawa a few weeks ago. I’ve seen the girl a few times but she hasn’t found the courage to approach me yet. She continues to wear the symbol of a bird on her clothing.

Ben and I have been living in Thomas McGregor’s house ever since we got here and to be honest, the two of us are scared.

We’re scared because we don’t know if we are going to make it.

We’re scared because our bodies aren’t used to this life—this food.

We’re scared because the two of us are sick—real sick.

Thomas continues to deliver the mail for his dad, and is rarely at home. The poor kid had to drop out of school just to help feed everyone—including Ben and me.

But the truth is, I wanna go home.

I don’t want to be here anymore. This assignment isn’t worth all this... this... pain. Plus, Ben snores like a rocket. The only problem is, how do I get back to Burlington when I’m so sick?

February 26th, 1867 Noonish

Thomas’ dad died this morning. I don’t know what else to write.

March 2nd, 1867 Sometime at night

I miss my mom and dad. I even miss my stupid little brother. The funny thing, they don’t even know I’m gone—to them, I’m still in the basement, working on this dumb assignment with Bully-Boy.

March 14th, 1867 5:30 PM

Guess what? I’m a student again. Can you believe it? Thomas’ mother made Ben and I attend her school. We have twenty-one kids in our class between the ages of four and thirteen, and wouldn’t you know it, she’s making Ben and me sit together. Argh. Ben has to wear red suspenders he got from Thomas’ dad and a pair of itchy looking woollen britches that don’t quite reach his ankles.

He looks silly, but I won’t say anything, because I don’t look much better in my pale creamcoloured cotton dress that is three sizes too big!

And you know what? The way they teach in 1867 is soooo boring. We have to use chalk to record our exercises on hard pieces of slate. And it seems like there are hundreds of the same questions in every subject. Like in cursive writing. We have to write a letter over and over and over again until Ben’s mother says we can move onto writing the next letter in the alphabet. Boooooring!

And it’s annoying too. I mean, there’s a bell that clangs so loudly I think my head will burst. It clangs to signal when school starts, when our break is, and when the day ends.

And let’s not forget the smell of the smoke from the stove that heats the classroom. A boy named Sullivan is in charge of putting logs on the stove before school begins in the morning just so we have enough heat to get through the day.

I hate slates, chalk dust, smoke, cursive writing and potatoes.

Yes, I still hate potatoes.

March 17th, 1867 2:34 PM

I’ve been in school for three days and the kids still stare at me like I’m an alien. Haven’t they ever seen a girl with dark skin before? What’s amazing though, is not one of the kids have teased me. Instead, they think of me as a celebrity. The kids are so polite and all want to spend time with me at ‘nooning’ (which is what they call recess).

I love Canada.

March 30th, 1867 1:10 PM

Mrs. McGregor (Thomas’ mother) just shared that the dominion of Canada will take place on July 1st. Apparently it was announced yesterday by the Queen of England. The funny thing is, I already know about confederation. But I won’t say anything, otherwise they really will think I’m an alien.

Anyway, the students are excited, in fact the whole city of Ottawa is excited.

I love Ottawa, especially now the snow is melting and spring is in the air

I miss everyone but I especially miss WiFi. I know, crazy eh?

I guess, now that it’s been so long, I might as well suck it up and wait for the big day and get this assignment completed properly.

If only Ben would cooperate. I swear the guy hates me more than potatoes. In fact, he’s not even talking to me anymore. I wonder if it’s because of all the positive attention I’m getting from my classmates.

April 17th, 1867 Afternoon

Thomas returned from one of his postal treks across Ontario (or the Province of Canada). He looks exhausted. But, get this. He was cool enough to take me to see the House of Parliament. It’s so beautiful and detailed. It’s so new, there are still construction crews working around the grounds—and guess what? The tower is different. I wonder why?

“How come you’re dressed like that?” Ben asks me as we step back into the courier-sled (which by the way isn’t a sled anymore. They put wooden wheels on it and man oh man, is it ever bumpy on the new roads.)

“I want to look nice,” I say to Ben. “This is where it all happens, this is where we’ll be seeing the confederation.” “So,” he squeaks. I shake my head. He clearly doesn’t like the grey frilly dress Thomas’ mother lent me. “I want to look pretty.”

“You look like a dork.” Ben folds his arms and flops back into the cabin.

I can’t take it anymore. I really can’t.

“Why do you hate me?” I ask him. I feel the blood rush to my head. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been mean to me. Why do you hate me so much?”

Bully-Boy looks at me for a moment, and then slowly opens his mouth.

But before he can answer, the girl appears again. This time, I can see her face. To be continued Monday. Next Time: Dominion