The Chronicle 2022

we would settle down to normality. However, normality has changed and we find ourselves thrust into a freneticism that has become the new normal. Months melt into one another and we are left with a collage of colour, with few definitive shapes. What is definitive, however, is the need to develop, and maintain, a reading culture. The English Department is fastidious about our ten minutes of reading-time at the beginning of all E Block lessons. This often spills over into the D Block lessons and we take every class (E – B Block) to the library once a cycle. The greater school community has welcomed our reading-frenzy - the whole school reads during the tutor lesson every Monday. Reading has enormous benefits, from improving concentration levels, to developing vocabulary and comprehension skills, to enhancing empathy levels. And more… F. Scott Fitzgerald, perhaps, says it best: “That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.” The reason that we all head north is because the pay is good; other than the oil, the Northern Prairies are just a big field of snow. When you reach the northern parts of Alberta, the small towns are made up of a few working-class families who are willing to bear the cold in order to live a somewhat comfortable life. No one likes it, they just bear it. Everyone leaves eventually. It’s cold, seriously cold. It’s not so cold that you need to wear two layers whenever you go out or so cold that you have to sleep with a hot water bottle every night. No, it’s so cold that if you touch a metal pole with a bare hand, that hand will become bare of skin. If your cat manages to get out it won’t ever get back in and if it decides to fall asleep on your warm car bonnet then it, like a bare hand, won’t last too long. It’s too cold for your car to break down because if it does, you’re in quite a lot of trouble; it’s sure too cold to walk anywhere. It’s too cold to have a town drunk because wandering outside on a cold night can only happen once up here. Because of this bitter circumstance the people too are stark. Still fresh faced, at seventeen years old, my family and I made the move from an easy life in Saskatchewan to a small town outside of Fort McMurray. I’d been there two months when I first truly experienced the weird way in which these people behave. At school I was surrounded by disaffected teenagers and teachers with a more adult version of the same outlook. When I met Riley, I saw a look that was all too familiar: angry yet uncaring. She was smoking at the end of the hall (it was too cold to smoke outside and too dull not to smoke). We crossed eyes and I smiled. The look she gave back was not a pleasant one, nor were the comments that she made; whoever stereotyped Canadians as polite obviously hadn’t gone far past the border. That’s the first time I remember her but the first time that we spoke went much differently. She was a pretty girl, though I had only noticed it once we were sitting in my truck. She was plain looking with skin that hadn’t seen much sun in the past few months. Her hair, in contrast, was very dark although most of it was covered by the beanie she was wearing. She had a sharp nose which, along with her CAUGHT IN THE CENTRE OF A SOUNDLESS FIELD Freddie Waller (A Block, Tatham)

cheeks, was rosy from the cold. Past that I couldn’t say. She was dressed head to toe in layers of thick clothes. Because she was in the year above me, I didn’t know her from a bar of soap. I was sitting in the second-hand pickup that my dad bought me when she jumped in. “I need a lift” she said bluntly. I didn’t know what to say. “Where do you wanna go” is how I instinctively replied. “We’re having a thing up the river”. I don’t know why but I started on my way. The we being referred to were all of the no-good teens (just all of the teens) in the area and the thing was them all packing into a house that was left vacant for a few days and drinking. In the insipid world of Northern Alberta this was common practice. We eventually found the house despite the darkness which was already engulfing the early evening. We hadn’t talked during the ride, I just tried to keep the car on the road while she sat there smoking, windows still up. As we walked into the house, I saw no change in her demeanour; you wouldn’t have been able to tell that she was going to a party. This attitude was reflected throughout the evening, faces void of any expression. People were drinking and doing stupid things, but the party remained dull. The teenagers were just acting how they thought teens should act. No-one cared much for this gathering; they were just going through motions. I tried to find someone who had some spark of life in them, but I was unsuccessful. Those types of people are few and far between here and those who are aren’t at parties like this. Because I didn’t know anyone, I eventually gravitated back to Riley. She, like I, was bored. For a short while we sat there, not knowing what to do. We knew that we had to leave but not much past that. Just as we had come, I unconsciously started back down the river. Again, we didn’t talk; the silence of the night was broken only by the sound of warm air being blown into the cab. We were going around a steep bend when I suddenly felt the truck pulling against me. Despite my best efforts the trucked skidded then rolled backwards down a slope into a large clearing below us. We were a way out from either of the towns. I stared out deeply into the night. All I saw was the snow revealed by the car’s headlights and the darkness around it. Neither of us turned the cab light on. I looked over at Riley through the darkness. Her cold eyes gave a familiar look back. Her cigarette was almost at its butt. Looking over her shoulder, I saw the snow start to softly hit the window. I tried to start up the car, but the engine wouldn’t give. I tried again but again the car fell silent after a few revs. The snow was starting to pick up outside. Riley pulled out her last smoke and threw the box on the dashboard; for a moment she seemed concerned but no more than that. I sat and watched her, caught in the centre of a soundless field.

DUTY AND DUNES Alejandro Sartini-Kruger (A Block, Mackenzie)

Like angels of death, they dropped from the clouds. I knew this was a possibility but didn’t want to believe it. I gripped the joystick tighter, turning my knuckles white. The sharp bark of The Commander over the radio broke my dazed stupor, “Fighters, form up around the payload, protect Charlie at all costs.” With a buzz, the five escorting fighter planes formed up around me. The enemies began to take shape now, a dozen or so German interceptors circled above us, descending like vultures

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