(excerpt)

A few days later in the afternoon while Anton was having a piece of cheesecake and a coffee at the local diner, Molly, the blond, almost thirty year old owner, whispered in Anton’s ear that they were looking for a couple of jobs at the local Indian Residential School on the other side of the river; this aroused some interest in Anton’s mind and the same evening he revealed the news to his parents. His father raised his eyebrows and stared at his son’s face.

“There’re all kinds of stories about the school”, he said, “you better be careful.”

“What stories father?”

“Well people’s talk, really, but be careful what job position they have and the people involved…”

“You didn’t say what you heard, what do people talk about father?”

His father turned to his mother’s side as if asking for help, but the stern glance of his wife made him realize she wouldn’t be of any assistance to him, so he carried on.

“People talk of abuse, all kinds of abuse towards the students…”

“The Indian kids?”

“Yes.”

“Why dad, they are just children.”

“I know. The people who run the show: the administrators and the teachers and the rest of the personnel are accused of a lot of things”

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