Weird Rules to Follow
Weird Rules to Follow
It’s Saturday, and the sun is out. My best friend and I make the most of the day by playing on the street in front of my home.
Lara is Mexican Hungarian. I’m mostly Native Indian. I say “mostly” because my skin is lighter brown. Some people think that we look alike. I guess we have similarities, like dark brown hair. But I’m a slimmer build and a bit darker-skinned than she is.
We’ve both recently turned ten years old and have lived on the same cul-de-sac, five houses apart, to be exact, for as long as we can remember. Lara lives in a large white house at the end of the street. They have a view of the mountains and the ocean and they overlook town. Her family has two cars in the driveway, two living rooms, two fireplaces, two bathrooms and a laundry room. It’s one of the nicest houses on our street, and the kind of home people like me can only dream about. Our home is an old wartime house, our view is a retaining wall, and there is no car parked out front. It has original everything, at a time when original has no value. Our bathroom has an old claw-foot tub. We have no washer and dryer or dishwasher, and the kitchen appliances are all mismatched. Lara lives with her parents and little brother, Owen. Her mom is strict, so she isn’t usually allowed to go to other people’s houses. But I’m always welcome at their place, to play after school, for meals or for weekend sleepovers. One of the first times I remember going to Lara’s house was when I was around six years old. Lara and I were taking our shoes off at the door. Her mom was sitting on the living room sofa, and without taking her eyes off the television she said, “Your friend’s not going to say hello?”
It seemed like an order rather than a suggestion.
I didn’t know you were supposed to greet your friend’s parents when you entered their home.
“Hi,” I said shyly, like I’d just forgotten to say it. After that, I made sure to say hello every time I entered their place.
Weird Rules to Follow recounts various events in protagonist Mia’s life from about age ten to thirteen mostly in Prince Rupert, British Columbia, starting with sockeye salmon season when the Natives work long hours catching, cleaning, and preserving fish.
Mia does not have a father and lives with her mother in her grandma’s home, along with her mother’s younger brother and a foster girl named Mary.
Our home is a hub for our large extended family. Different family members are always coming and going - aunts, uncles, and cousins – like a continually revolving door. At least, that’s how my mom refers to it. They move in if they happen to fall on hard times, then move out once they’re able to get back on their feet.
Mia is intelligent, perceptive, and sensitive. Her nickname, Pepto-Bismal, is telling. When someone (or something) upsets her, if she can’t sit on Grandma’s lap, she reaches for Pepto-Bismal to soothe her aching tummy. In Weird Rules to Follow, she recounts many occasions growing up during the 1980’s which gave her pause to consider, “What’s wrong with being Native?”, a question which arises in situations such as when her half-Native (like herself) older cousin talks nonstop about all the pretty white girls and then says that his mother told him “not to marry an Indian”. Another instance occurs when Mia proudly prepares fish and chips for her best friend, Lara, only to be told later by Lara’s mother that the salmon and fried potatoes she’d made were “not real fish and chips.” Another time, Mia’s grandma takes Mia to her church and asks the minister:
“Can you pray for my granddaughter? Her mom’s an alcoholic.”
I can’t believe my ears.
You don’t talk about those kinds of things! Let alone tell it to the guy who’s about to yell for the entire room to hear.
I have no time to process what is happening. The preacher’s hand is now on my head, pressing harder and harder with each “In the name of Jesus!”
…
When what feels like an exorcism rather than a prayer is over, I go sit back in my seat and angrily cross both arms tightly over my chest.
Mia’s story includes many key childhood memories, from a flashback to grade two when she’s chased by some spiteful Native girls, to her first perm, first team road-trip, first ‘crush,’ first date, first dance recital, and finally, to the dissolution of her relationship with Lara after they enter high school and Mia is assigned a locker in “the basement with the headbangers and smokers, even though I was neither, and Lara was placed in a prime location outside the library.”
High school seemed to carve out two separate paths for us.
Author K. Spencer’s story often feels more like a memoir than a novel in that many of its heartfelt and moving observations seem to be from the perspective of an adult looking back, despite the first-person narration. Additionally, the period of time covered in Weird Rules to Follow is broader than that of most middle-grade novels. For these reasons, this reader feels that – despite the age of the protagonist – this novel would be most appreciated by an older audience.
Karen Rankin is a Toronto, Ontario, author and teacher.