Guide My Name Is Not Easy

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Follow This Blog:. About Elizabeth Burns Looking for a place to talk about young adult books? Comments tanita says:.

November 3, at am. Liz B says:. November 6, at pm. Lori Strongin says:. Thanks so much for the rec! July 10, at pm. Send the link below via email or IM. Present to your audience. Invited audience members will follow you as you navigate and present People invited to a presentation do not need a Prezi account This link expires 10 minutes after you close the presentation A maximum of 30 users can follow your presentation Learn more about this feature in our knowledge base article. Delete Cancel.

Please log in to add your comment. See more popular or the latest prezis. Download Cancel. Width: pixels Height: pixels. Constrain to simple back and forward steps. Copy code to clipboard. Send email. Send to group. And anyhow, it feels good sitting right next to her, feeling warm and not having to worry about intimidating things. Would you like one? How could a person even breathe here? Me and Bunna and Isaac are just standing here in front of the school, staring.

When we look up, we both see him at the same time: a skinny, old priest. With his black clothes and clawlike hands, he looks like a big, bald-headed raven.

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And suddenly that old guy looks really funny—both me and Bunna see it at the same time. The kind of thing that is scary and funny, both at the same time. I look at Bunna and he looks at me, and we both start giggling. And every time we look at each other, we laugh harder.

Just like at puuqtaluk. It feels like everyone and everything has stopped breathing, even the trees. We sit, like rocks in the river, watching kids moving past us, staring. We sit on a hard bench, waiting. It feels like we wait forever. Finally, an old lady in a long white dress opens the door, and the priest sweeps past her without a word, throwing shadows up and down the hall.

I can feel it. My throat is frozen. This lady is big and solid and wears a skirt and sweater the color of ashes.

My Name Is Not Easy

The old lady looks at her. Something bad. It sounds like something that might hurt. Outside a long, square car pulls up in front of the school. Me and Bunna start to follow, but she turns to look back at us, still clutching Isaac. We look back, but the others are gone. Sister looks back, too, then nods.

You two may follow. We follow Sister outside, where the one she calls Father— the one with the squashed face—is sitting in that car, waiting. What am I going to tell Mom? What the heck am I ever going to tell our mom? I was supposed to take care of my brothers.

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They call the place where us kids are supposed to eat a cafeteria. Especially not the meat. Who knows where it comes from? Bunna nods quick. Like someplace where you get put into, maybe. Like a cage or a net or a long, square trap.

Whale Clan? And blushes. Milk always makes our stomachs hurt, sometimes.

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Sometimes laughing is the worst kind of crying there is. He nods back at the tall nun and winks at the old one, his grin as sweet as cake. And for half a second it looks like that old bird might even be trying to smile back. We could eat meat anytime we want. Bunna nods.


Everybody knows how in the ice cellar you have to store whale meat and caribou meat in separate rooms. The milk looks lumpy. As if I know. Tapping the whole room quiet until pretty soon it feels like everybody is holding their breath, watching us. I will not cry. I will never cry. Then, before Father can say another word, Bunna grabs his milk and drinks the whole glass fast, lumps and all, gasping for air like his life depends on it.