Birth Pangs of the Coming Age | Chapter 3

Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity. (1 Timothy 4:12)

Previously . . . Katie went home to Kataan, hoping for a fresh start as a high school junior. But, to her horror, the whole village already knew about her promiscuity and abortion while she was away. Her aunt condemned her sinfulness, resulting in Katie’s suicidal emotional collapse. Fortunately, Kataan’s pastor discovered her before hypothermia killed her, and his wife nursed Katie back to health. With Katie unable to stay in Kataan, the pastor arranged for Katie to return to Ketchikan to live with her Uncle Andy, and hopefully get a fresh start there.

Chapter 3

A Fresh Start

Ketchikan, Alaska, Monday, August 22, 2016

After an instant oatmeal and coffee breakfast, Andy drove Katie to Ketchikan High School thirty minutes before the first school bell rang. They hoped to enroll her early, before she missed any orientation classes for new students.

In the school office, Andy and Katie met assistant principal Susan Mitchell. She seemed suspicious when this red-haired, blue-eyed Irishman said he wanted to enroll his teenage, Native American niece in school. Then Andy handed her his legal guardianship paper.

As Ms. Mitchell reviewed Andy’s guardianship, Katie observed Ms. Mitchell didn’t have a wedding ring, she wore vintage pointy glasses from the 1960s, and her tidy hairstyle and priggish wardrobe suggested she wasn’t concerned about being attractive. She was friendly and polite, but the pitch of her voice had a slightly dissonant quality to it.

Satisfied with Andy’s legal guardianship, she gave Katie an enrollment document. Pointing at an adjacent room, she said, “Katie, please take a seat in there and choose your eleventh-grade elective classes. Then I’ll make up your class schedule.”

***

As they waited for Katie’s choices, Ms. Mitchell said, “I can’t help but ask, how did you become Katie’s uncle and guardian?”

Andy looked her in the eye. “I married Katie’s aunt, her mother’s sister. My wife Sarah and Katie’s parents were killed in a plane crash after a potlatch celebrating my adoption into the clan. Katie and I were the only survivors.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. So sad.”

Andy could see from her expression that she wanted to know more. She leaned toward him expectantly, like Buster did when he wanted another scrap of meat, but she was polite enough not to ask and he didn’t offer.

***

Katie returned and gave her elective choices to Ms. Mitchell.

After ten minutes, she gave Katie a copy of her Monday-Friday class schedule, with the times and room numbers for each class.

“Okay Katie, I’m going to put you in Mrs. Henderson’s homeroom. She’s also a proud Native American, from the Junaqan people.”

Katie smiled, but she was thinking, I’m glad she’s not a Klinatok, or she’d know all about me.

With everything arranged, Uncle Andy left her in Ms. Mitchell’s care. “I’ll be back at 3:30 to pick you up.”

With a wave and a smile, Katie felt a sense of relief as she began to blend in as just another high school student.

Ms. Mitchell led Katie down two hallways to her homeroom, where Mrs. Henderson, Katie’s homeroom teacher, was taking attendance and asking students to introduce themselves. Perfect timing.

Entering, Ms. Mitchell said, “Sorry to interrupt.” Katie scanned the classroom as the principal handed Mrs. Henderson Katie’s enrollment information.

Katie’s initial impression of Mrs. Henderson was that she was efficient, caring, and professional, with a pleasant, feminine voice. In contrast to Ms. Mitchell, she wore a wedding band and her black hair was styled in a neat French braid. Her outfit included a blouse, skirt, and shoes that complemented each other perfectly.

Gesturing toward Katie, Mrs. Henderson addressed the class, “This is Katie Whitefeather, who just signed in this morning. Welcome Katie. Please take any seat you like.”

Katie forced a smile toward Mrs. Henderson and toward the unfamiliar faces in the classroom. As she found a place to sit, four of her classmates returned her smile.

After her first day of school, Katie saw Uncle Andy’s dented truck in the lane where parents picked up their kids in front of the school. He was six cars back. The first five cars were new-looking minivans and sport utility vehicles. Contrasting with these nice vehicles was Andy’s old truck. Another girl her age would’ve been embarrassed by this apparent social incongruity, but not Katie. I’m just glad to be here in this school, and I’m glad Uncle Andy cares about me. Besides, he’s an Alaskan bush pilot, and that’s so cool, so who cares what he drives?

Katie waited under the awning, protected from the rain, until five parents picked their kids up at the curb.

When it was her turn, she eagerly hopped into the truck. Inside, it smelled of oil and wet dog. Buster, as always, greeted her with boundless energy, wagging his tail and giving her loving licks that always made her happy. She hugged and petted him in return.

She barely heard the drizzle hitting the truck’s roof, but one wiper squeaked every ten seconds to remind them it was raining.

As he drove away, Andy said, “How was your first day?”

“Pretty good. I didn’t know anybody, and my teachers all seem nice. I’m really glad to be here.”

“That’s great. If you feel up to it, we’re going to need more groceries now that we’ve got two mouths to feed. I thought I’d wait so you could help choose what we’ll eat.”

“Okay, sounds like fun.”

When they arrived at Andy’s cabin, they unloaded their groceries, then they sat to relax with a cup of hot tea.

Katie said, “Uncle Andy, I really appreciate you letting me live here with you. I’ve been thinking, I want you to tell me what I can do to earn my keep for the next two years.”

“That’s very mature of you, Katie. What household things do you like to do?”

“At Auntie’s, I helped her cook, clean, and do the laundry.”

“Yes, but what things did you enjoy doing more than others?”

“I don’t really like to cook. I’d rather do the cleaning chores—washing the dishes, housecleaning, and doing laundry.”

“Okay, that sounds like a good arrangement. I’ll do the grocery shopping and cooking if you’ll do the dishes, cleaning, and laundry.”

“It’s a deal!” she said. Andy laughed.

Both sipped their tea.

Andy’s Two Rules

A few minutes later, Andy said, “While we’re having this discussion, let me share my house rules.”

Katie cringed inside. Uncle Andy seems so nice and supportive. But I really don’t know him very well. I know he’s religious, so what kind of rules will I have to submit to in order to keep living here? I have nowhere else to go.

She looked down at her tea.

Andy said, “But before I tell you my two rules, let me ask you two questions. First, who is your God? And second, what is the standard you live your life by?”

Strange. What kind of questions are these?

Before she could answer, he said, “I know these are heavy-duty questions, so let me tell you how I’d answer them. I would say my God is Yahweh, who includes the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And the Holy Spirit and the Bible are my standards to live by. So, how would you answer these two questions?”

Andy waited as Katie deliberated for a full minute. Then she said, “I’ve gone to pastor David’s church in Kataan off-and-on for eight years, so I know the right things to say. But the truth is, I don’t know God the way you and pastor David do. You know how God has already saved me from death a few times in my life, so I believe he’ll lead me to find the answer to these questions in my future.”

“Thank you, Katie, for that honest answer. I’m glad you didn’t give me a religiously-correct answer, but you told me the truth. And Jesus agrees with you. He said if you follow the truth, it will lead you to know Him.”

“So, here are my house rules. They’re simple, and there are only two.”

He held up one finger. “First, do everything as unto the Lord,” and, holding up two fingers, he said, “Second, choose to follow the truth in every situation.”

He took a sip of tea.

“I believe you’re already following these two rules, so just keep walking on the path you’re already on.”

No problem. I can follow these two rules.

Relieved, Katie said, “I will.”

Buster moved to sit next to Katie, looking up at her. His eyes said, “Pet me.” She smiled and complied.

Andy concluded, “Finally, for your benefit, I’d ask you to attend church services regularly. Whether it’s in my church or somewhere else is your choice. This isn’t a rule, simply a request.”

Smiling, she said, “I will. Thanks.”

***

October 11, 2016

As Katie entered the bustling high school cafeteria, a hundred teenage voices blended into an unintelligible, chaotic cacophony.

She’d just left a social studies class where a heated debate on personal choices and morality erupted. The topic was too close, too raw for her to take part. Words like rights, choices, and freedom bounced around the room, each one a sharp jab to her conscience. She didn’t want to hear their theoretical debate. She wanted to rush out of the class, but such odd behavior would’ve raised inconvenient questions, so she stayed there and suffered through their philosophical discussion.

With only a small salad and water on her tray, Katie sought solace in a remote corner.

She observed groups of her peers chatting, debating, and enjoying themselves without a care in the world. She still felt like an outsider, different from her classmates. After what she experienced only two months before, she couldn't identify with their lightheartedness and carefree laughter.

As an introvert, she didn’t mind not having many friends, especially since most of her peers were silly and shallow. But one or two like-minded friends would be nice.

As her gaze fixed on her untouched salad, her mind returned to the memory she wished she could erase. It was vivid—the sterile smell of the clinic, the cold metal table, the evil sound of the vacuum. She remembered feeling alone, and so violated.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she re-lived the despair that engulfed her after it was over. She felt hollow, as if part of her soul had been sucked out.

Guilt overwhelmed her, a secret burden she carried in silence. She buried it deep, but like a demon, it emerged to torment her whenever it wanted.

A sudden laugh from a nearby table jolted Katie back to the cafeteria. She wiped her eyes, hoping no one noticed.

I’m so alone, even in this crowded room.

Mrs. Henderson sat down beside Katie, her presence a gentle intrusion.

She said, “Is everything alright, Katie? You seem a bit distant today.”

She seems genuinely concerned. Katie managed a nod and a weak smile. “Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Mrs. Henderson nodded with understanding. “Sometimes, the weight of our past can feel overwhelming. Remember, each day is a chance to start anew. We can't change the past, but we can learn from it and grow.”

Katie’s jaw clenched. Oh, God, Katie panicked, does she know? She must know somebody from Kataan. Who else knows?

Katie calmed herself. Whatever Mrs. Henderson knows, she isn’t judging or condemning me. She only wants to encourage me and give me hope. She won’t tell anyone.

The bell signaled the end of the lunch period.

As she stood, Mrs. Henderson placed a reassuring hand on Katie’s shoulder. “You’re a good person and you’ve got a bright future ahead of you, so always remember that.”

Katie's face brightened with gratitude. She looked up and their eyes met. Katie smiled. “Thanks.”

As students filed out of the cafeteria, Katie lingered, lost in thought, with Mrs. Henderson's words echoing in her mind.

I can’t change the past, but I can learn from it.

As Katie stood, she felt a subtle shift within her. The burden of her secret remained. But now, she felt a faint whisper of something new—a desire to heal, forgive herself, and begin anew with a fresh start. She left the cafeteria, carrying the weight of her past, but also the hope of a new future.

***

Forward Operating Base (FOB) Freedom, Kygyristan

Four Years Later, December 29, 2020

Katie saturated her memory for two full days in her squadron's library room, cramming Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) into her brain.

She pored over local maps, studied enemy threats, and memorized local flight procedures until her brain could absorb no more.

That’s enough for today. I’m tired, bored, and hungry, so it’s time for supper.

She put her winter parka and XyloVirus mask on, then walked out into the bitter cold, dry wind, joining the throng of soldiers heading, from all directions, toward the crowded squadron mess hall. At least this mask covers my face from this icy wind.

After entering the mess hall she unzipped her parka. The warm, comforting scent of roast beef and carrots filled her nose as she made her way to the stainless-steel cafeteria line. She selected a fried codfish fillet, a fluffy baked potato, crisp green beans, and sweet tapioca pudding from the array of options. She topped off her meal with tartar sauce, malt vinegar, a pat of butter, freshly diced chives, and a mug of peppermint tea. Just like home.

When she looked around for a table, she heard someone yell, “Yoo-hoo, Whitefeather! Come over here and sit with us.” She felt like everyone in the building was looking at her. Katie recognized three pilots from her squadron who were calling and waving at her to join their table. She hadn’t met them yet, but she’d seen them around the squadron.

Katie was conflicted. She was alone in a foreign country that differed from her home. Instead of her green and wet home, this place was brown and dry. And, not only was she the only female officer in the squadron, she was also the youngest, lowest ranking, and a Native American. All this made her feel different, uncomfortable, and vulnerable.

She never liked casual chit-chat. It would be nice to have at least one friend, but she didn’t really want to join this group of rowdies. But now that they’ve so-publicly invited her, and they knew she’d heard them, it would be rude to sit somewhere else. So, she surrendered to peer pressure.

As she arrived at their table, she noticed they’d already eaten—their trays contained only the scraps they planned to discard as they exited.

“Welcome!” the loud one said. With a quick glance, she read his rank and nametag. He was a Chief Warrant Officer named Hutchins.

Pointing at two others, he said, “This here’s Tiedown, and this is Shrek. They call me T-BAR.”

CW2 Hutchins, or T-BAR, looked like that goofy character in the “O Brother Where Are Thou” movie. He even had the Appalachian accent.

Lieutenant “Tiedown” Horowitz was tall and thin, with a receding black hairline and a large, thin nose.

Katie instantly saw why they called Lieutenant Miller “Shrek.” He was huge, at least six foot six inches tall, with shoulders that were a meter wide, and biceps like a normal man’s thighs. To complete the image, his jawline resembled the animated character’s face.

Tiedown said, “We heard that you’re a pretty good pilot, but Dingle won’t release you until you pass his local SOP test. That sucks. He held me up for awhile too. I feel your pain.”

“Yes, studying SOPs is so boring! I’d rather eat a bowl full of raw sea lion blubber than read that SOP one more time.”

“Wait. What?” Shrek asked, “Sea lion blubber? Where are you from?”

Katie immediately regretted letting her guard down, forgetting where she was and who she was talking to. These weren’t her friends in Ketchikan. Her world was foreign to them.

“Oh, sorry. I’m from Southeast Alaska.”

T-BAR asked, “Did you eat blubber there? Are you an Eskimo?”

Wanting to change the subject, she politely smiled at T-BAR, then turned back toward Tiedown. “Why did you say ‘Dingle’ won’t release me?” with an emphasis on Dingle.

Shrek said, “Dingle is Captain Berry’s callsign. Think about it.”

“Oh!” as the light of understanding dawned on her. They smirked at her innocent reaction.

T-BAR continued, “We all got callsigns. Most of us ain’t real happy with ours, but that’s life.”

Tiedown interrupted, saying, “Yeah, T-BAR stands for ‘That Boy Ain’t Right.’”

Katie tried, unsuccessfully, not to smile. That’s rude, but funny, and it fits.

T-BAR continued, “In case you can’t figure out how Tiedown and Shrek got their names, Tiedown once forgot to untie his rotor blades before starting his aircraft in flight school. Oops! As for Shrek, that needs no further explanation.”

After sipping his coffee, he said, “Now, I’ll bet you’re wondering why we shared all this with you? Who’s the only one at this table without a callsign?”

All six eyeballs latched onto Katie’s face, watching for her reaction.

She maintained her poker face. I should’ve been rude and sat somewhere else.

Seeing no visible reaction, T-BAR told the others, “She’s not gonna bite.”

He turned back to Katie, “We brainstormed it and came to a consensus for your callsign. We had a few ideas, but the one that’s the least likely to get us in trouble with the political correctness police is ‘Poca.’ So, assuming you agree not to file a racial discrimination complaint against us, that’s going to be your callsign.”

I wonder what their other ideas were? Probably better not to ask.

She responded, “I’m not the type to file a discrimination complaint over such a thing.”

They all nodded in agreement.

She sipped her mint tea.

“And besides, as a young girl, Pocahontas was one of my role models, so ‘Poca’ isn’t offensive to me.”

T-BAR said, “It’s settled then.” Raising his water glass, he proclaimed, “I christen thee Poca. Welcome to the team!” The others raised their glasses, saying, “Hear, hear!” in unison.

Shortly afterward, the three left, leaving Poca to eat her lukewarm dinner.

***

Coming Next Week . . . Three days later, on New Year’s Day, when one of her three friends suffers a violent death in combat, Katie’s character, courage, and skill will be tested in ways she could never imagine.

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