All my life, one word has thrummed inside me.

One word.

Belong.

It's what keeps you alive when danger lurks unseen in every corner, when everyone you love drops down one by one, like doves taken down by hunters.

It's there now, that word, as I stand among the large crowd gathered around the old maple. Belong. It tears at me, persistent, unyielding, as I stand, frozen, unable to move or speak.

They are going to cut the tree.

It feels wrong ― it is wrong. We had always lived under a sense of comfort ― safety, freedom, happiness. But when the loggers had arrived, nearly a year ago, we saw right away that something was wrong. All along, the comfort had been nothing but an illusion, a pretty painting meant to cover up the gaping hole in the wall.

Our forest means everything to us. But they had made their intentions clear: it had to go.

Initially, there had been resistance. My mother was part of it. She, and many others, opposed fiercely. They failed. And today, we were going to pay for it.

The loggers knew we never stood a chance. They even came up with a name for us, to mock us. Tree huggers. Though it was meant to point out our weakness, I like to think that standing up could ever be that simple, that peaceful. A nice thought, but impossible.

The swing of an axe jolts me back to the present. They are cutting the tree. This maple ― the oldest tree in the forest ― has become a symbol of resistance to us. Though they took away everything, they could not take away our past, our heritage. Or so we thought.

There is that word again, loud and insistent as ever. Belong. Stay with the rest. It's the only way to survive. But as the axe swings again, building up momentum, a new word rises up. Protect. This is what my mother, my people, had sacrificed themselves for. Something new ignites inside of me. I will not stand and watch while everything I care about is destroyed, one by one. Protect.

I break from the crowd, every muscle in my body protesting, but determination gleaming in my eyes. Time stands still. Everyone stares. The axe halts mid-swing.

Protect. I walk up to the old maple, and hug it. Tight.

CBC Books asked students to give us a glimpse of the great Canadian novel of the year 2174. They wrote the first page of a book set 150 years in the future, with the protagonist facing an issue that's topical today and set the scene for how it's all playing out in a century and a half.

Two winning entries — one from the Grades 7 to 9 category and one from the Grades 10 to 12 category — will be chosen by middle-grade author Basil Sylvester.

They are the co-author of the middle-grade novel The Fabulous Zed Watson and the recently published second book in the series, Night of the Living Zed.

Both winners will receive a one-year subscription to OwlCrate, which sends fresh boxes of books to young readers across Canada on a monthly basis. In addition, each winners' school libraries will receive 50 free YA books.

Last year's winners were Christian A. Yiouroukis for his story Where the Maple Leaf Grows and Bee Lang for their story One Question.

The winner will be announced on CBC Books on June 12, 2024.