Chapter One - New Kit

Canada’s weird. Not in a bad way. It just takes some getting used to. Some things aren’t different at all; school still sucks, the sky’s still blue, and the milk doesn’t come in bags - despite what mom had said. Some things are totally topsy turvy; like how the Mars bars taste more like Milky Way, and how the dollars are all rainbow color, and how my pocket money doesn’t go nearly as far. And some things are just a little bit off. Like how I’m going into ‘Grade Six’ in September, not ‘Sixth Grade’; or how the numbers on the speed limit signs go way bigger; or how I used to be a Webelo Scout, but now I’m a Beaver.

It all began the first day we arrived in Welton. It’s only a little town, but I think it’s pretty cool. Looking out the window as we drove up the mountain approach I saw a waterfall and a white tail deer! We unloaded some boxes at the new house before heading straight down to the community center so I could sign up for Scouts. I remember because I was wearing this dorky t-shirt that mom had picked out on the drive up. It was white, with dark blue arms and a red piped collar - two grinning cartoon beavers pictured with their fluffy brown arms cuddled around each other on the front and the slogan ‘HUG IT OUT’ printed above in big bubbly letters. It wasn’t the kind of thing I’d usually wear, but I’d spilled some ice cream down my front when we stopped for lunch, and mom hadn’t wanted to get all the boxes unpacked in the middle of the trip. She’d picked it off the rack at some gas station just across the border, practically swooning at the sight of it.

“Look, Cooper! It’s got beavers!” She’d enthused - crazy for anything with even the slightest hint of a Canada theme.

I’d slipped it on in the backseat, pairing it with my cool navy blue Cub Scout shorts. It wasn’t as if I liked the shirt - but it was a lot better than rocking up to my first Scout meeting in Canada with a big brown stain on my tummy.

Still, I felt like a doofus. There were so many kids on the playground, all of them in weird unfamiliar uniforms, and most of them bigger than me. I’d always been kinda short for my age, but with the babyish t-shirt I felt even littler. I ground to a halt mid-step, suddenly feeling very frightened. None of this looked anything like the Scouts I knew. What if I didn’t fit in?

“Come on, short stuff!” Dad called back, coaxing me to his side with a pat on his thigh. I tottered reluctantly forward, letting him ruffle my messy nest of browny-blond hair with his rough calloused hand. “You alright, bud?”

“Yeah…” I managed in a high breathy voice. “Just kinda nervous.”

Dad laughed. “Don’t be! You’re a big brave Webelo, remember?”

I nodded, though I hardly felt assured. Did Canada even have Webelos? I was pretty sure they didn’t. I wasn’t even sure I was meant to be a Cub anymore. I only had a couple more months before I was moving up to proper Scouts back home, afterall. How did that work in Canada? And what about all my badges? Would I need to start from scratch?

Just at that moment, a sandy haired man in a red button up shirt and a pale brown neckerchief sauntered up towards us. “Hey guys!” he greeted cheerily “How can I help?”

“My son here is looking to join the scouts.” Dad told him. “We just moved up from California.”

“Wow! California!” The red shirted scout master nodded, seemingly impressed “It’s mid season but that should be fine.”

I shifted a little and put my hand in my pocket, a little bit of change jingling, it was a mix of American and Canadian coins. Pulling my hands out, my coins spilled all over the place! Really? This had to happen now? I quickly bent down to pick them up while my Dad and the scoutmaster helped. “Sorry! I got it!” I squeaked.

“So, which program are you looking to join ?” The scoutmaster asked.

Dad raised a confused eyebrow “Program?”

“Well there’s Cubs, and Beavers of course…”

Still scrounging around on the floor, I seized up a Canadian nickel with its little beaver flashing at me.

“Beavers?” I asked him, a little unsure of myself.

“Well, sure bud. Just like your shirt! A beaver is very important in Canada. It’s our national animal!”

“Cool.” I nodded. If it was the national animal, those had to be the most important scouts of all, right? Besides, what was the point of joining the cubs if I was only going to have to move in a few months anyway? “I wanna be a Beaver!” I blurted out, giving a dopey grin.

He grinned at me, kneeling down to my eye level and handing me the coins he’d picked up. “Well that’s just great! You’re in luck. There’s one space in the Beaver group left.” He stuck out his hand. “I'm Taylor, The Beaver Leader!”

I quickly deposited my loose change into my shorts and grabbed his hand. “I’m Cooper.” I shook his hand. “I was in the cub scouts back home.”

“Is it alright if I leave him here?” Dad asked. “We just got here, we haven’t even unloaded the van yet.” He pointed in the direction of the house.

Taylor shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, we can watch him for the meeting, lots of parents around.” He grabbed my hand. I know they said Canadians were friendly but this was a little much! “I’ll get him his uniform, swing by in an hour?” Dad quickly nodded and disappeared in a flash.

Taylor led me into the building, it was a single story wood cabin. There was a large foyer for events, with a few offices on one side. On the other side were multiple classrooms for what seemed to be a kind of daycare - or maybe a kindergarten classroom. I peered curiously through the window, but couldn’t get a good look before Taylor pulled me into what looked like a nurses’ office - except it was filled to the brim with old dusty storage boxes.

“Let’s get you all situated then Cooper.” Taylor told me, opening a drawer and pulling out a well used leather bound scrapbook. He flipped to a page marked with a ribbon. “What’s your last name?”

“Uh it’s Young” I stammered. Why was I still so nervous? “Cooper Young.” I said slightly more assertively, Taylor jotted that down in the book.

He pointed behind me, where there was a yardstick glued to the wall. “Just stand there please.” I did as he asked while he inspected the measurement. “Four feet, on the dot.” He wrote that down in his book too.

Now I was confused. Why did he need to know my height? Was there a height requirement for Beavers? Would I need to go back to Cubs?

Taylor led me over to a scale and had me step on it - just like a doctor’s visit. He moved some weights around. “Wow, fifty pounds even too!” He took note of that as well and closed the book.

I was really worried now. They weren’t going to let me in! “Am I tall enough for Beavers?” I asked him with a tremble in my voice.

Taylor snorted. “Oh you’re fine, don’t worry about that.” I relaxed a little, though I still felt uneasy. Taylor opened a box and pulled out a little blue bucket hat with a brown rim, plopping it unceremoniously atop my head so that it covered my eyes. I let out a little yip of confusion, Taylor twisting me around and threading my arms into a cozy fleece vest. “There. All suited up.” he observed, readjusting the brim of my hat a little so I could actually see again. “What do you think?”

Taking a few uneasy steps forward, I looked myself over in a nearby mirror, hiding my hands in the pockets of the brown vest and rocking back and forth anxiously on the balls of my feet. I looked pretty silly, my hair spilling out messily around the rim of the bucket hat, but I didn’t want to be rude. “It’s cool.” I lied, managing a half-hearted smile as I fiddled awkwardly with the fabric - trying to conceal the babyish design on my t-shirt.

“Glad to hear it, Coopster.” Taylor chuckled, striding up behind me and leaning down presumptuously to do up my zipper. “That’s the group crest, and the area badge, and the council badge!” he narrated, pointing to a series of intricate patches already sewed onto the chest. “You'll get your neckerchief and your tail later - but for now you're still a kit!”

“A kit?” I repeated, the unfamiliar word feeling strange in my mouth.

“It’s like a baby beaver!” Taylor explained, chuckling as he saw my face fall at the “b” word. “Don’t worry, you’ll be a brown-tail soon enough. And you’ll have plenty of time to earn your very own badges, too!”

“I had tons of badges when I was a Webelo.”

“Cool, bud.” Taylor smiled, though I got the impression he didn’t have the slightest idea what I was talking about. “Want to go meet the other Beavers?”

I nodded in agreement, feeling a little embarrassed as Taylor once again took me by the hand - leading me out into the corridor and towards one of the classrooms. The label “PRE-K 2” was pasted to the door in clumsily-colored-in cut-out letters, while the slogan “WELCOME TO THE POND!” and a large picture of a beaver was displayed just below. As Taylor led me inside, I was met immediately with an overwhelming wall of sound; a gaggle of little kids all in bucket hats and vests just like my own running havoc across a preschool classroom. None of them any older than seven or eight, all giggling madly as they chased each other back and forth across a large rainbow-pattern carpet.

I prodded Taylor in the side, attracting his attention. “Where are all the bigger kids?” I mumbled, completely baffled.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Taylor reassured, patting me affectionately on the top of my hat. “Beavers is just for kids your age.” I felt my jowls go loose, my mouth hanging open stupidly like a fish blowing bubbles as it dawned on me that I’d made a terrible mistake! Clearly, Beavers wasn’t the group above Cubs, it was the group below them!