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DREAMING ROUNDBALL

Native Stories Sewn With A Hoops Thread

James BlueWolf

Other Books By James BlueWolf

Formally Published

Sitting By His Bones (Poetry) 2000

Sitting By His Bones (Audiobook)

Grandpa Says (Family Stories) 2000

Speaking For Fire (Illustrated Children's Story) 2006

Speaking For Fire (Audiobook/Video DVD)

Available From

Earthen Vessel Productions

3620 Greenwood Drive, Kelseyville, Ca 95451

Or call 707-279-9621

Manuscript Editions

American Myths & Madness (Essays)

Haunted Hearts & Indin Parts (Poetry)

Skins In Shirts (Essays)

Black Breath, Red Wind (Fiction)

Lake County Letters (Essays)

Sparks--Stories of Values and Virtues (Children's Stories)

Shadow Of A Fat Man (Gastric Bypass Journal)

Dreaming Roundball (Young Adult Fiction)

A Dysfunctional Union (Essays)

For My Grandchildren

Haley (Vooestaa), Ohshinnah, Takeyla, Michaela, Megan

Jason(Koi-Ossi), Adam(Hvshi-Homma), Christopher,

Tyler , and Travis (Onssi-Mahli)

Contents

1 Born To Play pg 5

2 Chub's Killer Shot pg 49

3 Ohshinnah's Choice pg 97

4 Half N Half pg 156

Born To Play

Akomachi pulled her WalMart sports bag out of her Uncle Tim's beaten up, rust red, 1961 Chevy pickup and looked up with her dark brown eyes at the dark thunderclouds threatening overhead. She felt the first hint of fine mist in the air and saw a few raindrops sprinkle themselves like stars on the pavement. The breeze was fresh and smelled of pine and cedar. She straightened herself up to her full height of five feet ten inches and brushed back her straight black bangs, even though they were cut to only a two inch length for the season. The rest of her shoulder length hair was gathered and tied severely behind her neck. Her coffee-brown skin covered a lithe and athletic frame. She was muscular, without being overly built, and she rarely got pimples or blemishes on her face, something she was immensely grateful for as a teenager. She wore extra long athletic shorts and an old gray pullover sweatshirt over her Tribal Olympics T-shirt. She had on her court shoes from last year, scuffed and worn at the front, but the red color was still bright and she still had good traction on the court.

She breathed deep, appreciating the sharpness of the cold in her nose. She was nervous. This was the Pinewood Middle-School Eighth Grade basketball championship game and her team had had to work especially hard to get here. They were all counting on her. She was the star player.

Her Great-Grandpa said it was in her blood. He said she was just one of those few players who seemed to instinctively see the open pass or the open lane to the basket. She also knew at an early age to pass the ball to where a player was going to be open, not where she was at the time. And she constantly moved her eyes so the opposing players couldn't predict what she'd do or where she was going to pass or dribble. He said she was one of those rare players that not only had talent but coachability as well. Coachability, he said, like talent, was a quality you couldn't teach. Someone either had it or they didn't. Some players you could teach only by showing them over and over, but a player like Ako seemed to instinctively know what a coach wanted and she was willing to work on a skill till she mastered it. You only had to show her once and she had the basic idea.

Ako knew that she had to carry her team and if she didn't score big tonight, they would probably lose. She felt like she was carrying water for her Grandma at ceremony; struggling up the steep dirt path from the creek to the Dance Grounds, her shoulders burning like they were on fire hefting the two big five-gallon plastic buckets filled to overflowing, water splashing out with each new step. The expectations both she and her Coach put on her were like that kind of weight on her shoulders.

She carried her bag into the gym and saw where the other players on her team had gathered. Shoes, coats, bags and water bottles littered three rows of benches near the top. She saw her best friend and cousin, Sonja, sitting alone with her back against the wall, looking depressed. A whistle blew close to her ear, the sharp piercing noise making her take a quick step toward the stands. The referee glanced at her and nodded before he rolled his hands in the motion for traveling and pointed toward the far basket. The seventh graders were just finishing up their game. Ako looked up toward the scoreboard and grunted with satisfaction. Their seventh grade team was pounding their opponents 33 to 12. Her cousin Freda was dribbling the ball up the court. She was the new point guard for the Mustangs. Ako had spent quite a few Saturday mornings teaching her the right way to crossover. She watched Freda approach the top defensive player and change direction abruptly with a perfectly executed crossover. Ako nodded in appreciation, Frieda had it down pat already.

Ako remembered how long it had taken her Auntie Kat to teach her to dribble on the rough rocky ground behind her trailer. That was the only flat place they could find to put up the hoop.

Kat was just over five feet tall and her legs were so short she could dribble so low no one could get it. In high school she'd turned her lack of height to her own advantage and had made the All-County team as a point guard with excellent ball-handling skills. Her three point shot and her ability to get into position for quick, accurate passes and assists had made her a standout player. Ako knew she was lucky to have someone with her skill level as a mentor. Her Aunties hair was dyed blonde and cut short, styled almost like a man's, and even though she'd gained quite a few pounds in middle age she was quick and althletic. She'd married young but her husband had left after the first year. He'd beaten her up regularly, and everyone in the family relieved when he left. She'd announced the next year that she was Gay. Her girlfriend lived in Skylar, a town just to the North of Pinewood. Ako didn't think anything about it, Native people had always been accepting of the differences in people.

Akomachi had gone with her Uncle Samuel to cut the two lodge-pole pines he'd used to support the plywood backboard. He was a short, dark-eyed, heavily muscled man, with a shock of longish black hair that constantly flew in every direction but never seemed to interfere with his vision. He was bandy-legged, with strong thighs and thin narrow calves like many Northern Plains people, and his face could only be described as craggy. with sharp well-defined features

Traveling up to Bald Mountain to cut the trees had been fun. Her Auntie had packed bologna sandwiches, Fritos, and bananas for them and they'd parked at the lookout on top of the mountain after they cut the trees to eat. As they sat beside each other on the tailgate, her Uncle offered tobacco and they listened to Bill Miller on his boom box, at least until the batteries wore down and Bill's voice sounded like he'd had a six pack too many beers. She'd asked her Uncle why the whites called it Bald Mountain and the Indians called it Place Of Old Cedars. She didn't see any cedar trees growing there, just pine.

“That whole mountain was a cedar forest once,” he said, “but it was logged out with the coming of the first settlers. The mountain offered them the most accessible place to cut logs for homes and businesses for the new town of Pinewood. They couldn't see, or didn't care, that those trees were hundreds, maybe thousands of years old-they just whacked them down as fast as they could. After all the trees had been logged out they started calling it Bald Mountain. In the middle twentieth century the forest service replanted the area with pine and that's what grows there now. But we can't forget the old growth cedar trees that grew there. We still remember them, even to this day.” He looked sadly over the valley and said, in a softer voice, “Yeah, we still remember.”

Ako thought about how her two white friends, Anita and Molly, had giggled when they saw the rough, gray bark falling off the poles after the first season's winter. The two girls had hoops at home, but they had fiberglass backboards and plastic reservoirs you filled with water to add weight to the bottom. Ako liked the way her goal looked with the two lodge poles, even if they were starting to lean a little to the left. They had character; they weren't plastic. Besides, dribbling on the rough uneven ground had improved her skills and made her a better ball handler.

Another whistle brought her back to reality and she climbed the bleachers to where her cousin sat. The smell of sweat and humidity seemed to get stronger up here. She put her hand up, palm forward, for her cousin to smack. Sonja made a halfhearted effort to respond.

“What's up, Dinks,” she asked, using her cousin's Rez name. All the Indins on the Pinewood Rez had one. Only a few people were known by their given name and they were usually Elders.

“Nothin”, Dinks said sullenly. She was a few inches shorter that Ako and her dark brown hair had reddish highlights. Her skin was the color of walnut but her eyes were green, a gift from her Irish grandmother on her Dad's side. She carried a few extra pounds around her hips and waist but still moved easily and was strong as a bull.

Ako poked her in the side roughly.

“Sup?”

Dinks sighed loudly. “Everything sucks! My brother got sentenced to five years for the fight he got into last month. My Auntie's kids gotten taken away from her by CPS cause she got drunk at the casino last night. My mom's mad at me and the coach said I wasn't starting today!”

Ako already knew about Dink's brother, Carlos, and her Auntie Charlotte. She didn't have much to say about that. That was life as usual on the Rez.

“What’s your Mom mad about?”

“She thinks I cut school last Friday to go to the lake with Twyla and Robby-boy!”

“Well, uh-didn't you?”

“Yeah, but it pisses me off she found out about it!”

Akomachi shrugged and didn't say anything. She watched the last few seconds tick off the clock in the seventh grade game. The horn sounded and they began gathering up their stuff as the seventh graders leaped around, enjoying their win.

“You ready?” Dinks asked.

“Born ready,” she replied, but inside the butterflies were already churning in her stomach. She quickly stepped down the bleachers, eager to feel the pimply texture of the ball on her fingers; to hear the squeak of her sneakers on the polished hardwood. It was a lot different in the playoffs. Playoff games were played at the high school not the middle school. The Scorpions gym at the middle school had concrete floors. Most of the older school coaches had knee problems from the hard surfaces. She was glad this was her last year there, she was already starting to feel twinges in her knees and she imagined that this was the result of her five years playing there.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw most of her teammates grouped together around their coach, Marvin. Marvin was the owner of the local hardware store in town. His daughter, Kristy--a tall, gangly, dirty blond with freckles, was their center. She wasn't very good on defense but she had a fair turnaround jump shot from the free throw line, and usually posted up strong underneath.

She waved at Ako to come over just as her Dad shouted, “Scorpions! In!”

Akomachi trotted over and tossed her bag on the bench behind the team box.

Marv nodded to her as she joined the circle of girls.

“O.K., ladies-here we are. This is what it’s about. All your hard work ends here in a win and the trophy, or a loss and we go home with nothin'. Personally, I'd prefer the trophy, but then it won't be me out there on the court. I imagine the high school coaches will be here, including Coach Murphy, so put on your best moves out there and hustle your butts off.”

He put his two hands into the center and everyone else followed.

“Who are we?”

“Scorpions!”

“I didn't hear you.”

“SCORPIONS!”

“So go on out and warm up.”

Akomachi led them out, pounding the ball against the floor with a high exaggerated dribble. They started with the half court passing weave and then went into their layup drill. Looking over at the bench she could see the Coach going over his starting roster. He was a very large man, side to side, but not very tall. Her Uncle said he'd never even played ball in High School but Junior High coaching volunteers were hard to come by. She knew the only reason he was coaching was so his daughter was sure to make the team. In truth, he didn't know much about the game, but at least he emphasized fundamentals enough to avoid too much criticism. Pinewood was a basketball town and there were always readers comments in the Pinewood Daily News or on the Pinewood Community radio station. KBBR, criticizing something to do do with basketball. She sneaked a glance at her cousin and could see that she was still angry at not starting. To be honest, Ako had to admit that her cousin was probably down at about number seven on the starting roster in talent, but what she lacked there she made up for in intensity and aggressiveness. The ball came to her and her mind stopped and basketball filled her consciousness.

Twenty four minutes of game time later, the score was tied at 31. The opposing team had put a double team on Ako from the opening whistle. She had still managed to score seventeen points of their points but her mostly off steals and breakaway layups. Her set shot was off from the pressure and their lack of team rebounding had hurt them. The other team had a set of twins that had killer jump shots anywhere in the paint and the Scorpions run and gun offense just couldn't seem to contain them defensively.

The Coaches' daughter, Kristy, had kept them in the game with ten points, and Ako was proud to acknowledge that Sonja had redeemed herself, when she finally got a chance to play, with a crucial tie-up resulting in a jump ball change of possession and a magnificent three pointer to tie the game before the end of the third period.

Coach Marv pulled them in close and stood silent for a moment, looking at the time and point totals on the scoreboard.

“We need every rebound from here on out.” He looked pointedly at his daughter for a moment, then around the circle. I want everyone to get the ball to Ako. I don't care if you're right in front of the basket, pass it out to her. She'll be taking the shots from here on out."

The girls looked confused.

One of the guards, a short redhead with frizzy curls named Mandy, stammered, “Even if we have a good shot?”

“Do you want to win this game or not?” Coach Marv replied.

The other girls were shaking their heads and giving Akomachi dirty looks but she didn't care. She loved to get the ball; to be the go-to player. If the coach had wanted her to go out there all by herself she would have.

The whistle to start the last period blew.

“What are we going to do?” Coach shouted above the noise of the fans.

“WIN!” the Scorpions shouted back.

Ako licked her fingers and then rubbed them on her shoes for traction. Coach Marvin grabbed her by the arm and yelled in her ear.

“Do it all, do everything you have to win. I'm counting on you!”

Ako nodded and ran out onto the court. For the next eight minutes she was a dynamo; stealing passes, rebounding out of her position, defending the twins even when she was supposed to be guarding the forward, taking shots from every angle and place around the key-even following them up and rebounding inside to put up a follow-up shot. Twice she tripped up her own teammates going for the ball, ignoring their angry looks and pushing herself to hustle harder and faster. She drew two quick fouls near the end, which caused her to slow herself down a little, but when the final whistle blew she had eight more points and the other team had only managed four. The Scorpions won.

For that moment, all of the anger and resentment disappeared in the joy of winning the championship. All the girls were jumping up and down, hugging each other. The Coach's wife, Jackie, was passing out waters and T-shirts that said, “Eighth Grade Pinewood Champs”. A few minutes later Akomachi was walking on clouds, savoring the feel of being named the Tournament MVP. She felt someone hug her from behind and turned to find Sonja beaming at her.

“You did it, Cous! We're Number One."

Akomachi looked around for the rest of her teammates and Coach but they were nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for Coach?” Dinks said.

Ako nodded.

“They all split right after the trophies were given out. He didn't even wait to see you get the MVP.”

Ako shrugged, but inside she felt let down.

Her cousin grabbed her arm.

“Let's go get some fries or something, I'm starved!”

As they started to leave the gym, a large familiar figure stepped into their path.

“Congratulations ladies”, he said, voice booming. “I'm Coach Murphy.”

Akomachi looked up at the huge black man. He was six-six and had the widest shoulders and biggest hands she'd ever seen. He kept his hair cropped extremely short and had large ears and a square jaw. His eyes were brown, flecked with gold, which gave them a sparkle that animated his face and gave all his expressions an extra look of intensity. His nose was smooth and straight. All in all, Ako thought he was a pretty good-looking man. His body was still taut and long-muscled at forty and his hips were narrow, with long powerful legs in support. He had played two years of professional ball for the Dallas Mavericks as power forward before an injury forced his retirement. His jersey at the High School had been retired long before Ako and Sonja had been born. Her throat felt dry and she seemed to be having trouble speaking.

“Thanks,” Ako managed to say in a hoarse croak.

“I'm impressed with your level of skill, young lady.” The big man didn't smile. “But I'm concerned that you don't believe in the importance of teamwork.” He paused, waiting for her to reply.

“But my Coach said for me to do whatever I had to for us to win.”

The big man touched her shoulder gently. His brown eyes softened.

“I don't want to put down your coach-but that's poor advice. You can win at this level that way, but when you get to high school and beyond teamwork is crucial. Person to talk to about that is your Great Grandpa. Keep up your ball-handling this summer. We play some pretty tough man-to-man teams-you're gonna need to be at your best. And about the teamwork thing-I'm not kidding.” He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder and strode off.

Akomachi felt a wave of depression wash over her. She'd been really high but now she just felt down. All the elation of winning the championship was gone. Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, she didn't even want to think about basketball.

“Let's go eat,” she said shortly. “I've gotta get out of here.”

The two girls went outside and stood in the parking lot. Wispy white clouds were whipping across the sky, playing hide n' seek with the moon and an ocean of stars. The rain had blown on by and the evening air was fresh. The street lamps cast their blue light on the wet pavement as they stomped their feet and shifted from foot to foot to stay warm. Their breath was visible in the air.

“Uncle Teddy better get here soon,” Sonja complained. “He said he'd be here when we got done!”

Ako knew that there was a good chance she'd be walking home alone tonight. Her Grandma had laid down the law about riding with Sonja's uncle if he'd been drinking. She didn't say anything as they saw headlights approaching. The green Ford Bronco turned into the parking lot, its back wheel riding up over the curb causing the driver to almost lose control into the street lamp.

Sonja looked at Akomachi and said softly, “I won't say anything to your Grandma.”

Ako shifted her bag to her shoulder and turned to start the four mile trek home.

“So-kay Cousin, I feel like walking anyway,” she lied.

Sonja gave her a sympathetic look and climbed in beside her Uncle Ted, a squat, fat man with a huge flat nose and thin lips. His eyes were squinty and small, giving him a feral appearance. At the moment they were glazed and he blinked repeatedly as if he was trying to bring them into focus. His crewcut looked like he had styled it with more than a handful of gel. It gave his dark hair a slick and greasy look in blue light of the gymnasium parking lot.

“She’s too good to ride with me, huh?” He snorted. “Big basketball star!”

“Shut up, Bud. Just get me home in one piece.”

Sonja watched Akomachi in the rearview mirror as they made the turn onto the highway out of the parking lot, the Bronco coughing out a huge cloud of oily smoke that drifted behind them. She wished she was already seventeen so she could buy a car and drive herself.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Ako reached home. It was almost midnight and she was surprised to see all the lights on. She got a bad feeling in her stomach and quickened her step, nearly tripping over her little brother Sherman's skateboard, lying on its side beside the walkway. She burst through the door just as her Auntie was opening it from the other side. The grave look in her Auntie's eyes confirmed her fears. Someone had died. Death was pretty common on the Rez. Between sickness, alcohol, drugs, violence, suicide and old age, almost all the families here had been touched in the last year. They went to more funerals than anything else. Her Great-Grandma, visiting from the city, hurried to her side and hugged her close. Ako felt the wetness of tears on her Grandma's cheek as it pressed tightly to her own.

“Who is it, Nana?”

Her Grandma didn't reply right away-just hugged her tighter and sobbed a little. Ako's Auntie Kat sat down on the chair and looked away as she spoke in a hushed tone. “There was an accident on the way home from the game tonight. Bud crossed over the white line on the Stag Valley grade and hit an empty logging truck head-on.”

Ako felt the bottom of her stomach fall out. Her pulse began to race and her heart was pounding in dread, but she couldn't speak.

Her Auntie seemed to know and said quietly, “Sonja didn't feel anything. It was over in an instant. Both of them are gone.”

Suddenly, Ako was eleven years old again, watching her Grandma's mouth speaking the words-telling her that her mother and father were dead. Another car crash. Another senseless loss.

Ako felt a wave of pity for her Great-Grandma sweep over her. The little woman seemed so thin and frail these days. Her eyes were huge and dark in a haunting, melancholy way. She had lost so much. First, she had lost Ako's Grandmother and Grandfather to early deaths of diabetes and tuberculosis, and then her Granddaughter and Grandson-In-Law to an accident caused by alcoholism and drugs. How could she take it? How could she go on and be so strong? She patted her Nana's thinning black hair gently with her hand. “So-kay, Nana. I'm going to my room now.”

Her Grandma pulled back and looked deeply into Ako's eyes, then wiped her own deeply lined face with her apron and nodded with a sad smile as Ako walked away. “This one is strong,” she thought. This one will make us proud.”

Ako drug her bag listlessly to her room, closed the door gently, and sat down on the corner of her bed. She looked around the room at her posters of Geronimo and Red Cloud, and at the pictures of her Mom and Dad. Her basketball awards were carefully hung in a diamond design on the wall in their Kmart picture frames, with a small collection of her most treasured trophies gathering dust on the top of her dresser. For a moment it seemed as if she could not stand the weight of her life and she wished she could just change into a bird and fly away like in the movies. But if Indins had ever been able to shape change in the past, which she doubted, she sure hadn't ever heard of anyone doing it recently. That was the kind of junk they wrote in the new age novels you bought at the store with the cover picture of an Indian in feathers, with tipi's in the background and horses, buffalo, and eagles posing as decorations-these were today's version of the cigar-store Indian. She sighed deeply and lay down, curling her legs tight to her stomach. Tears dripped on her pillow as she thought of Sonja and the terror she must have felt at the end. She slept, and dreamed of graveyards and big shadows.

After Sonja and Bud's funeral, the spring seemed to fly by and, before long, she was out of school for the summer. It was nearing the Fourth of July and her Uncle Samuel was preparing for Ceremony. She always smiled when she thought of him as Uncle Sam-most of the time he was just Sammy, her favorite Uncle. He was coming to dinner this weekend with his wife, Auntie Lara, a latte-skinned, shapely woman, with beautifully-shaped features, black hair that hung below her knees, when it wasn't braided, and large, brown, almond-shaped eyes.

Lara was actually Maya from Guatemala, but because she spoke mostly Spanish everyone thought she was Mexican. Her whole family had been murdered by the death squads and only she and her sister had escaped,ending up, somehow, in Kansas. Sammy met her while he was attending the Indian University at Haskell. One of the families there had taken her in. Kansas was a totally new experience for her but she and Sammy had hit it off right away. They got married after knowing each other only a couple months. No one in the family had said anything; after all Lara was brown and had the most beautiful thick black hair. Now she was about seven months pregnant and Sammy was taking his ceremonial duties much more seriously than he had in the past, now that he was to be a father.

He was fasting this weekend. Grandma had been planning to cook frybread, but now she was worrying out loud that maybe she shouldn't be tempting him. Uncle Joe, her oldest Uncle, said it served him right for trying to be a long-hair, an old time reference to the days when all the ceremonial leaders wore their hair long. That wasn't the case anymore but Ako suspected her Uncle Joe was jealous of Uncle Sammy and his commitment. Joe was a thin and boney man with a distinctly mis-shapen left leg that caused him to walk with a severe limp if he didn't have his cane. He'd had polio as a young child and it had made him bitter and sarcastic. He hardly ever had anything good to say about anybody. That seemed to be the way it was on the Rez. No one had anything good to say about anyone else, and the more someone tried to be good and do something important for themselves or for the people, the more it seemed they were criticized.

Sammy and Lara arrived with Sammy sniffing the air and loudly asking what was for dinner. When Grandma looked concerned, he quickly stepped to her side and gave her a big hug.

“Don't worry, Nana.” He said. “Just the smell is enough for me!”

After dinner he asked Akomachi if she wanted to go elk hunting with him the next day. She was surprised. They usually didn't hunt elk until the fall, after the bulls had put on some of their winter fat. He seemed to know right away what she was thinking.

“We just need some meat for the ceremony, and a raw hide for my new drum. We had a lot of late rains this year so their feed has been good, shouldn't be too thin yet. I'll just tell all the ticks that you're coming!”

He came for her the next morning at four AM. Blurry-eyed, she stumbled into her clothes and laced up her boots, grabbed her pillow, and made her way, half conscious to the truck. They didn't speak a word in the early morning dark. Ako pushed her pillow into place and leaned her head against the window frame to look out at the moving sky full of stars. She had her flannel pullover starter jacket on but the old truck had no heater and she was almost to the point of shivering. Sammy reached over behind her seat to pull out a well-used Pendleton blanket and tossed it over her. She nodded to him gratefully and lay her head back down. In a moment, the lull of the straight-six engine pulling itself up the mountain road put her to sleep.

She didn't wake up till her Uncle pulled the truck off the road into a wide open area bordering a meadow that ran North-to-South between split mountain ridges. Uncle Sammy hopped out and grabbed a small orange plastic ice chest and a blue stainless steel thermos from behind his seat.. From the ice chest he pulled out a bag of small smoked sausages and a package of aluminum foil. He stripped open the foil and exposed two pieces of perfectly cooked frybread.

He brought the bread to his nose and breathed deeply. Ako looked at him intently, wondering if he was really going to eat and break his fast. He looked at her in a conspiratorial way and said, “No one would know?” Ako realized she was holding her breath. Her uncle smiled, “No one except me.”

Ako breathed out heavily. He handed her the bag of sausage along with the frybread. “Eat. It'll be a while 'til we stop and you have another chance.”

As she began to chew, she saw him load his small pack with a plastic bag of jerky and a plastic bottle of water. “For your lunch,” he explained. Then he removed his gleaming, oiled Model 64 thirty-thirty rifle from its buckskin case and carefully loaded it with shells.

“Why do you do it, Uncle? You know, fasting and going up on the mountain-I know that it’s for power and everything, but how do you do it? Don't you just get so hungry or lonely that you can't stand it?

Her uncle shook his head. “Guess I was just raised that way. Great-Grandpa got me into it early. I wasn't serious about it until this year though. Now, since I've got a kid coming, it’s time for me to decide what I really believe in and start practicing it. Too many people here talk a good game but don't practice much. It's always been easy for me to fast, or go out by myself for awhile...or Dance. I was raised that way. Sacrifice for the people is a part of our Traditional life. Some Indins treat it like it’s something from our past. They don't look around them anymore and feel connected to everything. Great- Grandpa has a special way of dreaming so that he knows things before they happen. That makes me feel a responsibility for our family-to keep that power alive-even if I don't have it myself, Maybe someone in the next generations will come along and they'll have it-and do great things for our people...maybe the world." He shrugged. "I just feel more content with my life with ceremony and our way of believing that there is more to what is here than what we can see, touch, hear, or smell. It makes me feel like I'm part of something greater than myself.”

“How come my Dad didn't feel that way?”

A look of pain crossed his face like a shadow and then it was replaced with an expression of sadness.

“Your Dad always believed-he just was full of ghosts. Where we lived in the city, he grew up with a lot of discrimination. Everyone at his school looked down on him or treated him like he was something special. He was either an ignorant savage or a noble savage. Everyone was a little bit afraid of him. All the white guys were jealous ‘cause all the girls loved his shiny black hair and dark gloomy looks. But none of them would date him for fear of what their Dad or Mom would say. He was always lonely. There weren't any Skins in that town, just a few black people. He hung around with them. That's why he loved Motown and Soul music so much. Somehow, after awhile, he must have gotten the idea it was his fault, how people treated him. I don't know. I was still pretty young. He started drinking in seventh grade. By his junior year he couldn't get up and go to school without having a beer. If Great-Grandma had ever caught him he would have had his butt kicked, but she never did. He was careful and he never missed a day of work. That would've tipped her off too. When he met your Mom we thought maybe he'd finally find some happiness and when you were born, I think he did. But then your Mom started cranking in order to stay up late for her graveyard shift at the casino and they both went downhill from there.”

“And you and Great-Grandpa-you couldn't help him with, you know, the Medicine?”

“It really doesn't work like that, against someone's will. Your Dad didn't believe that he deserved to get well. Guilt caused him to hate himself. He was ashamed that he wasn't taking on Grandpa's bundle. He was afraid of the Power. It ate him up. Great Grandpa was close to getting him on the road, but then your brother passed and your Dad just gave up.”

Ako's brother had gone-on at birth, just two years before she was born. She had never known her father to be sober for a whole single day of her life. When he was sober, he was funny and lovable, but as soon as he started drinking he'd become very quiet and scary-occasionally beating her mother. Her mother never made a sound. Ako thought that her Mom didn't wanted her to hear, but the loud thumps and groans always made their way clearly to her ears. Then, after her Mom started cranking she didn't seem to care if Ako heard and she started fighting back. They both had to go to the hospital a couple of times while she was in elementary school. It had been a really bad period in her life.

Her Uncle punched her softly in the shoulder. “We better get going. It's a long hike into the valley. The herd has been moving around quite a bit the last few weeks. I got my eye on one doe with a bum leg. She won't last the season.”

The sun was just peaking over the top of the eastern ridge when they crossed the meadow, jumping the creek bed at its narrowest point and entering a large grove of pine where the valley narrowed. They moved in single file with her Uncle ahead. She followed about ten steps behind, pausing when he paused, being careful to look where she stepped and watching out for the branches whipping back at her from his passing. Twice they spooked deer, but her Uncle paid them no attention except to wave his hand slightly in their direction in acknowledgment.

After a couple hours, Ako began to tire. They had just finished hiking up a section of the mountainside to avoid an area of the creek bed full of giant boulders and deep pools. Sammy led her to a small clump of pines on the mountainside. On the other side was a series of rocky outcrops with a clear view of a well-used game trail down to the creek. He put his hands to his lips and bent over at the waist, skirting the edge of the pines and crawling on his knees up behind the largest of the nearest group of rocks. Ako followed, copying his every move.

He sat with his back to the rocks and reached into the small green canvas military bag at his side. He withdrew a small leather drawstring bag and opened it, one set of strings in his teeth. Ako could smell the big fragrant leaves of dried tobacco as he crushed them in his hand. His lips moved silently for a moment and then he began to sing. Not a radio or CD song, but an Indian song, full of vocables and their Native language.

Her Auntie and Great Grandpa were slowly teaching her how to say basic things like, “I am called so and so,” or “I'm in need of water.” The hardest part for her was getting over the fact you couldn't translate exactly what you said in English word for word. A lot of what was said didn't make any sense in Indian and vice versa. Also, Indian was backwards-the order of how you said things was off. She knew what her Great-grandpa would say. He'd say that it was English that was backwards and out of whack. He was one of the few elders left that could speak fluently in the old language. Her little brother was picking it up fast though. He could say a lot of things already that Ako was just learning. She'd heard of Tribes where a lot of people spoke together fluently but her Tribe had almost lost it until some of the oldest elders got together and started meeting every week to remember what they could. Ako had gone with her Grandpa to some of the meetings. It was funny to see the old people trying to talk and laughing when one of them made an embarrassing mistake. They'd started with games-each one of them taking turn at knocking at the door, with someone inside asking who it was and them making a reply. But her favorite game had been in the big kitchen at the tribal center when they'd gathered every night for two weeks to discuss cooking, make big dinners and then serve anyone who wanted to participate in learning. It had raised community awareness, and everyone had a good time. After that even the tribal council began their meetings in the language and prayed. It made her feel good that some of her people were at least trying to keep the language alive. Even her Auntie from Guatemala was learning it so she could speak it to her new baby.

Her Uncle raised the tobacco to the four directions, the earth and sky, and then sprinkled it on the ground between his legs and tossed the rest into the breeze.

He turned and said shortly, “Stay here.”

She watched him slowly crawl out around the edge of the rocks. He paused for a moment and then continued down into the tall grass. Soon he stopped and lay perfectly still. Ako could barely see his side moving as he breathed. They stayed that way for a long time. She moved her butt restlessly. She was getting sore from sitting on the hard rocks. The roar of the rifle caused her to jump so hard she bit her tongue slightly. Her Uncle was up and running down the mountain toward the trees lining the creek.

Ako followed him as fast as she could without tripping and sprawling in the weeds. When she reached the spot where her uncle stood, he was taking out more tobacco. A doe elk lay at his feet, shot clean through the neck. There was only a little blood. The doe's eyes were glazed and Ako couldn't help but feel sorry for the beautiful animal as her uncle was saying the prayers for its spirit and giving thanks for its sacrifice. When he finished, he knelt by its side and put his hand gently against the doe's flank. She could see that his affection for the animal was genuine. That's what made her Uncle so special. He really believed in the old ways. For him, they weren't old-they were just their Ways! She felt very proud of him. There he was, dressed in WalMart tennis shoes and jeans, a worn casino T-Shirt and hooded sweatshirt-no feathers or medicine bag, not even any jewelry-but he was a real Indian! And it wasn’t because he had killed an elk, or was a Sun Dancer, or could sing a few songs, but because he was a family man; a man who provided for his family and took his responsibilities seriously. He was someone you could count on not to put his own interests first.

She was brought back to the moment by the gleam of sunlight off his skinning knife. In no time he had left the insides for the coyotes, quickly stripped off the hide and quartered the animal. Then he reached into his bag and brought out a large Ziploc bag of ground black pepper. He took little pinches between his fingers and rubbed it into the meat, making sure he covered it all. Next he cut a strip of rawhide from the skin, poked holes around the outer edges and began lacing the peppered quarters inside the skin, making two large bags. Taking a coil of nylon rope from the first bag he tied one end to a metal weight and threw it over a high tree limb. Then he tied the other end to the holes in the four corners of the skin bag and drew the whole thing high into the air. He repeated it all with the second bag. This is where they would stay until he came back later the next day with other men to carry it all out. It would take four grown men to carry it. Sammy gave Ako the bag of jerky and pulled out a tube from his bag.

“You can drink from the creek with this,” he said, “it purifies it as you drink.” He lay down on his belly on a rock extending out over the water and took a few long sips at the tube. Then he gestured to her and lay on his back in the dappled shade.

The cottonwood tree leaves overhead rustled noisily. The air was warm but not hot. The breeze was cool and the air fragrant with the smell of creek moss, damp, pine cedar and vegetation. It was a perfect day, Ako thought. These kinds of days in the mountains made you forget all about school, and problems, and civilized life. It made you feel like life could be simple if only we could slow everything down and not take everything so seriously. She sighed, knowing that life had never been easy-not even in the old days. Slower, yes-less complicated, maybe-but easier? No she didn't think so. There was always tragedy. There was always pain and sickness. It was just that she thought in the old days maybe they understood their place in all of it a little better. They still believed in mystery. No one thought they knew and understood everything. She stopped herself from thinking and breathed the air around her. Turning your mind off, that was the secret. Listening, really listening. There was so much to hear.

She awoke at her uncle's touch on her shoulder. He moved his hand in the quick jabbing way that meant it was time to go. She rose quickly and followed him. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see she had only slept for a half hour. The trip back seemed to take a lot less time. Before long they were back in the truck and on their way home. They stopped just once when her Uncle pulled off the road to point between the trees across the mountains to a large outcropping of rock across the canyon.

“That's where Great-Grandpa goes to be alone. Me too. Maybe you'll check it out someday.”

A week later she saw him at the powwow, sitting with the other society men. He waved to her and went back to the discussion. She waited until after Grand Entry to get a fresh lemonade and an Indin taco. She scrutinized all the regalia on display before her. She could tell what was store-bought and what outfit some Grandma, or Grandpa, or Mother, or Father, or Aunt, or Uncle, had labored and sweated on to make beautiful for their dancing relative. She had once made a comment to her Grandpa about how maybe she should become a dancer or singer. He asked her why she felt that way.

“I don't know-it just seems like something to do,” she replied.

He'd given her a Cheshire cat smile like that one in the Lewis Carroll story they’d read in school in fourth grade. Alice had been the girl's name in the story. Alice-gone down a rabbit hole to find another world. She had read it twice but didn't understand a lot of it. But that Cheshire cat had caught her imagination. He seemed kind of like Coyote in the old stories...and she could picture his smile because she'd seen it on her Great-Grandpa Charlie's face. Charlie was someone you didn't forget. For one thing, his legs were so bowed it looked like they'd been formed around a barrel. He had a huge chest and his arms were long and powerful. He'd worn his grey hair in long braids tied at the ends with red yarn. But it was his face that captured people. His eyes were luminous and black, as if there was a light behind them, lighting them up from the inside. His nose was aquiline and his cheekbones were high and well-defined. He had a dimpled chin that gave his smile a mischievous quality that also had the peculiar effect of making him look decades younger than he was.

Her Great-Grandpa had smiled at her and said in the soft voice he used when he was saying something important, “Not everybody's born to be a singer, or a dancer. What would they do without someone to watch?'

Ako got the point and gave up her idea of dancing, at least until a time when she really felt like it might be important to do. After the Powwow, she watched the fireworks with her Great-Grandma and Grandpa, and Auntie from lawn chairs in front of the trailer. Her Uncle was pulling a swing shift and had to miss it. The local Casino always had a good display, even though they probably could have afforded to give their employees a quarter an hour raise on what they spent on forty minutes worth of pop and sparkle.

The next day she started handling the round ball again, spinning it on her finger and slapping the side to keep it going. She could spin it for a long time. After that she began dribbling for an hour every morning and an hour before dinner. At noon she shot free throws. When the hotter days of August baked the ground under her aging hoop, she decided to change her schedule and got a job working a shift at the local co-op grocery as a cashier to start to save money to buy a car. Her Uncle Sammy had promised her he would match the amount of money she had to put in, but she had to wait until the end of her sophomore year to buy it. She figured she could save quite a bit by starting before high school.

Before she knew it, school had started again and the novelty of attending different classes in high school kept her busy and intrigued. She really enjoyed a couple of her classes and only thought a few of her teachers were jerks. She shot baskets in the gym every time she got the chance, but most of the time it was filled with the volleyball team and cheerleaders practicing for the Friday night football games.

She ran into Coach Murphy a lot in the halls at school. It seemed like they were always going to the same place. If she went to the office, he was there. When she went to lunch, there he was. Even the library! He always acknowledged her with a nod and a stern look. She couldn't make up her mind about whether she liked him or not-he didn't give you much to go on. One thing she was sure of though, he knew the game of basketball and could make her a better player.

Her Great-Grandpa was always talking about scholarships. She didn't think about it much-it was too far away. Besides, her Uncle said Indins didn't get offered Division One scholarships ‘cause the coaches had been burned too many times by Natives getting homesick, or being ragged on, or dissed at home so much they quit and went home. She wasn't interested in playing for a community college, she was hooked on the excitement of the big-time Division One and Two Playoff games on TV in March every year. She even remembered her Dad sitting silently in his chair drinking beer after beer and grunting occasionally when someone made a great play, or blew it big time. She dreamed that it might be part of her future.

Halloween passed, and after the second week in November she began to scan the bulletin board for the basketball tryout postings. A lot of the coaches waited until after Thanksgiving, but she knew that Coach Murphy and Coach Stallings, the JV girls coach, would want to give everyone a good look before the holidays. Coach Murphy always took an active role with the JV tryouts. She saw the tall blond girl, Kristy, from her eighth grade team, and fell into step beside her as they walked toward the lunchroom.

“Have you heard anything about the tryouts?”

Kristy looked at her like she was a bug. “If I did, why would I tell you?”

Akomachi was shocked. “What did I ever do to you?”

Kristy rolled her eyes like something she'd seen on television and huffed.

“Well, let's see-how about hogging the ball, taking all the credit, having to be the big star all the time? None of the rest of us ever got any notice. My Dad says you'll never make it high school. None of you Indians ever do. He says you'll probably drop out or get pregnant before you're a junior!” She laughed and gestured to her group of friends. “We're going to be the team this year. I doubt that any of you kids from the “Rez”, she accented the word sarcastically, “will even make it.” She leaned in close in a conspiratorial way and whispered, “Unless that Nigger Coach needs someone closer to his color around!” She laughed again and started to walk away.

Ako grabbed her blond pony-tail from behind and jerked her head back, sweeping her feet out from under her the way her Uncle had taught her. The tall girl fell heavily onto her back with a shriek and Ako learned over her-pointing at her in the Indin way, with her chin.

“You ever call him that again, your Daddy's going to be paying big bucks to your dentist, Skank!”

Miss Henry, the tall, thin, Caucasian-looking Spanish teacher, grabbed Ako by the elbow and stepped between her and the white girl, still lying on her back in disbelief.

“Ako-what do you think you're doing?”

Akomachi said nothing, silently starring at the floor.

“I didn't do anything, Miss H," Kristy whined. "She just grabbed me and threw me down! She's crazy, or on drugs or something. You know how they are!”

“Be quiet, Kristy, and go on to lunch. I'll handle this. Come on Ako, Mr. Akins will want to discuss your behavior.”

Ako followed along behind her without saying a word. She knew she'd made a big mistake. Her temper had really got her in trouble this time-and just before basketball season!

Mr. Akins, the Vice Principal, had been put in charge of disciplinary procedures at the school after his predecessor, Sandy Shinson, had gone out on a pregnancy leave. Sandy had been the librarian at the Middle School for two years before she got the administrative job at the High School. This was during the dark period right after Ako's parents had been killed. Sandy had noticed that Ako was spending a lot of time alone in the library reading fantasy novels. She tried again and again to get Ako to trust her enough to talk about it, and one rainy night, even though she didn't mean to, Ako found herself bawling out loud and telling the skinny Anglo brunette every depressing thought and fantasy she'd ever had-even her most secret dreams-including her thoughts about killing herself. She was surprised to find that talking with the woman made her feel a lot better and Sandy had then revealed a lot about herself, including the revelation that she had lost her parents to an accident as well, and that her father had also been an alcoholic and abusive father. They had become as close as an adult teacher and a student could, and when Sandy got the job at the High School, Ako had been one of her biggest cheerleaders. She'd gone to Sandy's baby shower in the summer and the two had spent hours laughing. Ako had given Sandy a present of beaded moccasins for her baby, and Sandy had marveled at the tiny, size thirteen seed beads that made up the rainbow pattern.

Sandy would understand, thought Ako, but the short, round, balding Mr. Akins, was not the kind of person Ako could open up to. For one thing, he was a man, and Ako had been raised not to talk to men about women issues-and this was definitely a problem between women!

They entered the office just as the door to Mr. Akin's office opened and Coach Murphy walked out. Ako could feel her brown skin reddening in embarrassment. The coach gave her a questioning look. Ako just looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

Twenty minutes later she ran to get a candy bar from one of the vending machines after missing lunch and was on her way to Algebra class, with a detention slip for two days in her pocket and a warning that a suspension loomed on the horizon for any future “fighting”.

Ako's second cousin, Philly, was in her math class. He was going out for the boy's team. They often practiced together in his driveway. His Mom had married a white guy from the County Transportation Department and they lived in the new subdivision of three and four bedroom houses on the opposite side of town from the Rez.

He was almost too tall for the desk and had to sit sideways on one cheek to fit as he nodded to her when she sat down in the back row beside him. All the Indins except for Scoobs, a heavyset girl with thick wire-rimmed glasses, sat in the back row. Scoobs sat up front, not out of choice, but simply because she couldn't see the blackboard from the back. Valerie lifted a hand from two seats over. She was the last Indin girl from the Rez left from the eighth grade team that was going to try out for basketball. All the rest of Ako's relatives and tribal friends, girls that had played and dominated the leagues since the fourth grade, were gone now; ineligible due to poor grades, or seriously involved with boys or pregnant, or who were doing drugs or drinking, or who were saddled with adult responsibilities at home, or who just didn't enjoy competition any more-after all, competition really was contrary the Native value of community.

Val slipped a quick glance at the teacher, Mrs. Everett, and surreptitiously passed a note to Ako behind Philly's back. The note read, “I hear tryouts, Thurs, after school?”

Ako gave her a questioning look and shrugged. Everyone at school called Val, Valkerie, because she was famous for drawing pictures of Viking warrior women, and her body was fantastic. She had the best shape of any of the Rez girls. She lifted weights and her muscles, though not over-developed, were well defined and cut. She never wore dresses or skirts, always preferring sports bras, muscle shirts, and skinny jeans. Her uncle had sent her a book about drawing that had included pictures of warriors, and she had been fascinated by contemporary drawings of Viking folklore, particularly those of handsomely built, ferociously beautiful, women warriors. Everyone kidded her about it, but she didn't care, she loved drawing powerful women. Val's long black hair, which reached down to behind her knees and was usually braided into a single braid, was a favorite target of girls on the basketball floor. At least two or three times a game she'd end up on the floor, or at the free throw line, from girls yanking on her braid. If it was at the free throw line, the other team was in trouble! Val shot about eighty percent from the line. She wasn't a great outside shooter but she blocked out well and was a great rebounding, follow-up, shooter. She averaged ten points a game with follow up shots and if they put her at the line, her points-per-game numbers shot up dramatically. Val lived with her parents and had no brothers or sisters. Since Sonja's death she had been a regular at Ako's house for dinner.

Akomachi could see Philly's eyes scanning the note.

He nodded. “That's what I heard too. Our tryouts are on Friday,” he whispered.

Ako breathed a sigh of relief. She'd have her detention served by Wednesday.

Mrs. Everett began calling the class role. Ako settled into Algebra. She had to admit she liked the formulas and the strange expressions. She'd liked it in eighth grade and she was enjoying the class a lot, even though it was hard learning it from Mrs. Everett. She was one of those teachers who thought that just because it all seemed so clear to her that everyone should get it easily. If you pretended to be dumb enough you could get her to do the problems for you. The class had mastered manipulating her into doing a good part of their homework every day by pretending mass stupidity. Even the kids that got it played along. So far, Mrs. Everett hadn't caught on to the game. If it wasn't for her Uncle, who hadn't finished high school but was a natural in math, Ako would never have been able to keep up.

Tuesday and Wednesday flew by, but Thursday classes seemed to drag on and on. Even her math and literature classes couldn't hold her attention. PE was especially bad. The weather was cold but clear and sunny and they had started archery.

Ako snorted. Archery! Aside from the bow-hunting club in town that had an outside target range on a ranch near Bald Mountain, she didn't know anyone who had the least bit of interest in it. What possible good would it do to have a few classes in something they would never use? Not a single one of the students had access to a bow with arrows out of school! It was a total waste of time-like most of high school-learning things they'd never need to know, or would forget by the time they did need to know them. About the only important thing Akomachi thought you could get from High School was learning to show up and deal with bullshit day after day and still keep going! And then there were the stupid jokes the Native kids had to endure if they missed the target or didn't seem to automatically be experts.

They were always harassing her cousin, saying things like; “Whassup Philly-you should be able to shoot the eyes out of a squirrel,” or “Didn't your Grandpa teach you to shoot a bow and arrow. What kind of Indians are you guys?”, even though they knew perfectly well that the Native kids lived just like they did-except poorer. It was part of being Native-living with the stereotypes from TV and movies. Ako wondered if it would ever change.

Then, all of a sudden, it was time for the tryouts. They ran for time, shot baskets for time, did passing and dribbling drills and even had to do a written test! Ako wasn't ready for that and a quick glance at Val told her Val wasn't either. But the questions were just situational, pretty much common sense, and Ako flew through it without any trouble.

After it was over, Coach Murphy hovered in the background as Coach Stallings gave them a pep talk and tried to prepare those that wouldn't make it to not feel so bad and to go on and do something else.

Ako wasn't listening. She was evaluating her performance against the other girls. She knew that she'd looked good. Only the new black girl, LaTesha, was at her skill level. LaTesha was six-feet-one already, and both her Dad and Mom were even taller. She wore her hair in dreadlocks that hung to the bottom of her neck and her dark eyes were piercing and intelligent while always appearing calm and relaxed. Ako thought LaTesha had eyes like an eagle. She didn't think the African-American girl missed much. Kristy and Val had done well too. A couple of the other white girls from the eighth grade team had done alright. Ako was pretty sure they'd make it. She thought the two new Latino twins, Maria and Lucretia had a chance as well. They were almost identical, with both girls sharing medium height and solid bodies. It was easy to tell them apart because one had her hair cut short and the other wore hers at shoulder length. Also, Maria had a rounder, more oval face than Lucretia's. Both had very strong legs and were superb jumpers. If they all made it, it would make for a pretty colorful squad! Talk about melting pot. They'd even had an Asian girl, Kim Yee, try-out, though Ako thought the girl seemed too fragile to hold up. She was thin and slightly pidgeon-toed, with square cut black hair and long-tapering fingers. Her skills weren't bad, she just looked like if you bumped her too hard, she'd break.

Val trotted over to join Ako as she headed for the showers.

“So, how'd we do?”

“I think we'll make it,” Akomachi said, dipping her head slightly. “Coach Murphy was watching you when you stole the ball in the defensive drills, looks like we might have a pretty good team.”

Val nodded. “Yeah, that girl LaTesha is awesome. With you and her out front we might even be able to run this year! Are you going to the powwow down in Kensington this weekend?”

“Naw, I'm going to stay home. I got a history report due and I haven't even started it yet.”

Val looked at her incredulously. “You're gonna stay home and do schoolwork?"

Ako nodded. “Well some of us might want to actually graduate in four years-ayyyy?”

Val laughed. “I'm going down there with my parents to visit my Auntie to see my cousin, Tahleeya, win the Jingle Dress. Seems like I spent half the summer rolling those chew tops for her dress. She better win!”

“That's a pretty big powwow-lots of entries-I wouldn't get your hopes up too high.”

“You're just jealous you won't be there to spend any of her prize money with me.”

“Yeah, right! Like she's gonna share that with you.”

Val looked hurt. “She'd better. I worked hard rolling those tins!”

They walked home to the Rez together without saying much more. Val waved and turned off at the Tribal Center. Akomachi continued on and was passed by a car full of hooting boys riding in the back of a pickup. She casually flipped them off, then left the highway and took a beaten dirt path over the hill behind the Smoke Shop, around the gymnasium and down the little hill to her Auntie's trailer.

The next morning, Auntie Kat got up early to give her Great-Grandma a ride to Tribal Health to get her flu shot. She was staying over for the weekend while Great-Grandpa was gone to an Elder's Conference on Language Preservation. Auntie offered to drop Ako at school after she made sure Sherman got safely to his first grade class at the elementary, but Akomachi decided to walk so she could have time to shoot a few baskets before her first class and check out whether she made the team. Her Auntie knew it was a big day for her, and smiled knowingly, giving her a big hug and reassuring her that she knew she would make it.

Ako skipped shooting baskets and went straight to the gym where she found most of the girls who had gone out for the Mustang JV team huddled around the bulletin board where the names of players that had made it were posted. Ako saw a number of girls turn away in tears, one of them sobbing hysterically. Her pulse quickened and all her confidence drained away. It was funny how you could feel so sure of yourself one minute and then so vulnerable the next. She saw Val at the side of the board and had to push and shove a little to move up to where she could see the postings.

Her eyes scanned the list, first for Val's name, which she found immediately, and then for hers. Her stomach flopped as her eyes went down the list without seeing her name. Then, relief flooded over her. Her name was the last one on the list. She relaxed and then leisurely went over the list again. LaTesha's name was there, so was Kristy's. She was surprised to see the Asian girl, Kim's name on the list, as well as Maria and Lucretia, the two Latina girls. A number of other white girls from the eighth grade team rounded out the list. They had the makings of a pretty good team, Ako thought.

Kristy pushed up beside her, pretending to ignore her. “We all made it,” she said loudly to the two girls she usually hung out with. She looked down at Akomachi and her face twisted into a sly grin. “Finished with your detention yet?” Her voice was syrupy sweet with just a hint of naked aggression.

“All done, thanks!” Akomachi returned her insincere smile and mimicked her condescending tone.

The blond girl tossed her hair and pushed her way out of the circle.

Akomachi's eyes returned to the bulletin board, scanning it for information on the dates of their first practices. She grunted in satisfaction when she saw they were scheduled to start on Monday. She was ready.

All weekend she alternated between working on her roundball fundamentals and her history report. The report was on the conflict in Georgia between President Andrew Jackson and the Cherokee Nation, particularly the Supreme Court’s finding that he couldn't remove the Cherokees to Indian Territory followed by Jackson's challenge to the Court's authority. It was an unprecedented demonstration of Executive power. Jackson had told the Court they were powerless to stop him and they were! “Try and Stop Me!” was her title for the report. She found it interesting how the U.S. Government could say one thing and do another whenever they wanted but when common people tried it they usually ended up in prison.

She finished the paper late Sunday afternoon, then went out and shot free-throws until dusk. Her Great-Grandma cooked for them, making enchiladas for dinner and Ako showered and went to bed early, looking forward to the week to come.

The next day she turned the paper in and was surprised when her teacher returned it to her before the end of class.

" I think your paper was very well written, technically speaking", he said, "but I think you should check your facts. I know books have reiterated the claim that Jackson said those words but there are some historians who say that, in fact, he never really said them. That might be a paper on its own. Anyway, good job."

Basketball season started fast, with both the girls and boys JV teams winning their first couple of games handily. LaTesha and Akomachi worked together well, learning quickly to anticipate what the other was going to do. Pretty soon they were communicating without having to speak, through body language and familiarity of habits.

Kim Yee was developing into a pretty strong power forward. With her height, and despite her slim frame, she proved to be surprisingly strong, physical, and resilient. She could post up, rebound, and had a fair jump shot from the baseline. But where she really shined was in backing Kristy up in the paint on D. Kristy was holding her own offensively in the middle, but she was lazy and often got caught out of position following the ball on defense. Ako noticed Kim saved her butt a lot.

At first, Coach Stallings put Akomachi at point guard, with LaTesha helping her bring the ball down and either Maria or Lucretia at the other guard. Kim and Kristy started at forward. After awhile, LaTesha demonstrated she had the ability to handle the ball effectively so the Coach went to double guards and no point, pushing Kristy into the center and alternating the twins and Kim in the forward spots.

They spent a lot of time working on man-to-man defense. Coach Murphy demanded that all his teams play tough man-to-man. Running figured prominently in his offenses and he demanded complete concentration to compensate on defense. It took the JV girls all pre-season to learn how to open up and let their teammate slide through beneath the screen rather than following the offensive player and getting scraped off, requiring a dangerous switch. Their coaches were working hard on scouting the opposing teams to get the best offensive and defensive match ups.

“Whadda you think?” Val said, after their first game. They had barely pulled out a victory in the last quarter after Kristy fouled out and Maria missed two crucial free-throws in the last minute. Kim had saved them with a crucial rebound and then out-letted the ball quickly to LaTesha who hit Ako with a perfect pass on the breakaway lay-up to seal the deal.

Coach Stallings gave them a lecture about having control on the court. Kristy had gotten mad at the refs for her first two fouls and never really got into the game. Her last two fouls were for reaching in, a bad eight grade habit the coach had been emphasizing they all must break. But when Kristy got mad there was no talking to her. The Latino girl she was guarding had been shorter then her, yet she had out-jumped Kristy the entire first half on the boards and was very effective at blocking her out on rebounds.

“I expect you ladies to have control of your emotions on the court. I’ll deal with the refs-that’s my job. You just play the game no matter what the calls are. Got it?”

“Yes, Coach,” they replied in unison.

Ako noticed that Kristy hadn’t joined them. She just looked toward the sidelines where her Dad sat in the top row, his back to the wall, a blank look on his face. She made no secret that she didn’t think much of Stallings’s coaching. Ako suspected that her Dad had had a lot to say about that and was probably influencing his daughter’s opinion.

Afterward, in the locker room, Ako and Val were the last two to throw their towels in the hamper and leave.

“The team’s coming together on the court,” Ako replied.

“Yeah, but everybody hates each other, enit?”

Ako shrugged. She knew Val was right. It would take just one little incident to throw the team in turmoil and chaos.

Christmas vacation was busy with practices. Only a few families on the Rez celebrated Christmas, most were still too poor to make a big deal out of it, and fewer still went to church. Akomachi’s family didn’t celebrate Christmas at all, but they did celebrate the Winter Solstice. “Earth Renewal” they called it. That was the time the sun began its return. Her brother, Sherman got a new skateboard from their Uncle Sammy, who had broken his other one by running over it with his truck when Sherman left it in the road. Usually their tradition was to make all the gifts for Solstice but Sherman was lost without his skateboard. He rode it everywhere. It made their holiday to see the look on his little face when he first glimpsed his new board.

After Christmas, the Mustangs suited up for a long bus ride to St Ignatius for the Holiday Invitational. They finished second and Akomachi won the tournament MVP Award. Even Coach Murphy had complemented her on her unselfish play.

But the white girls hadn’t gotten much playing time and the grumbling from them and their parents took the thrill out of the victories.

Ako had been a witness to one outburst during one of her few moments on the bench. One of Kristy’s friends, Tania, had gone too far. She was sitting behind Lucretia and Maria and spoke loudly, so everyone could hear.

“Wetbacks” are taking over the world. Pretty soon we’ll all have to learn Spanish. I wish they’d just go back home to their own country!”

Ako knew that Maria and Lucretia’s family had been Americans almost as long as Tania’s. She’d been to their house for dinner and seen pictures on the walls of their great-great-Grandfather in World War One.

“Sometimes we wish that about other people too!” Ako said loudly, just to make sure Tania and her friends heard.

Ako saw the white girl’s face turn scarlet with anger.

“You got nothing to say, “Squaw”. You’re always the coach's pet. You get to play almost every minute. All you Coloreds do. Us “real” Americans have to get our asses full of splinters sitting on the bench behind you. They never give us a chance anymore!”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t play very well,” Maria spoke up.

“What did you say to me, bitch?”

“You heard me,” Maria said, without turning around.

Ako saw Tania look up and down the bench. Before she could do anything, Tania drew back her foot a short way and kicked Maria in the back as hard as she could. Maria screamed in pain and everybody in the gymnasium looked their way.

Coach Stallings got up and trotted down the bench. “What’s going on?”

No one said anything. Maria whimpered as her sister rubbed her back and glared at Tania who was looking away and pretending she wasn’t involved. Coach Stallings gave them all an exasperated look and went back to the Coach’s box.

Lucretia leaned back toward Tania and spoke in a hushed voice. “I’m gonna kick your ass. You better watch your back.”

A momentary look of fear passed over Tania’s face and then she saw her friends looking at her. “You want to fight? How about Monday after school? Course I expect you to bring your “posse” or whatever. You people never go anywhere without your gang!”

Lucretia pressed her lips together tightly so that Ako barely heard her reply. “3:15, at the outside courts.”

After the game, at the Wendy’s where the bus stopped for dinner, Ako found Maria and Lucretia sitting alone.

“You know that if you fight her, you’ll be suspended and Coach might even kick you off the team?”

Lucretia nodded glumly. Maria flushed and her brown skin seemed a shade darker. “I should be the one to fight her. I was the one she kicked!”

“We need both of you to win the championship this season.”

“This is about respect. They can’t treat us like that, just because their parents own businesses or are City Council members. We’re just as good as they are.”

“No one thinks you aren’t-except them. They’ve been that way for five hundred years. I don’t think one fight’s gonna change anything. I’m not telling you what to do, just asking you to think about the team. We need you.”

Ako walked over to where Val and LaTesha sat, eating their Chicken sandwiches and fries.

“Want some of my Frosty?” Val said, pretending she wasn’t interested in Ako’s conversation with Maria and Lucretia.

“Nope,” Ako said shortly.

Val waited for a moment. “Well?”

“I don’t know. If somebody kicked me in the back the way Tania did I woulda knocked her unconscious right there on the spot. I don’t know what they’re gonna do. But I think we should be there to back them up, just in case.”

“Don’t you think we should tell Coach?", LaTesha looked around fearfully.

“We don’t snitch on anybody,” Val replied.

“What if we all get suspended?” LaTesha whispered.

Ako sighed. “I think this could be a short season.”

Most of the school was aware of the impending battle by noon on Monday. As 3:15 arrived, everyone rushed to the lower quad where the tennis courts, swimming pool and outside basketball courts were located. By the time Akomachi and Valerie got there, a crowd had gathered. Ako saw Tania and her friends standing by the pool gate. Kristy and the other white girls on the team were nowhere to be seen.

Val said, “I don’t see Kristy anywhere.”

Akomachi nodded. “They must’ve got these girls to do their dirty work for them. I think it’s a conspiracy to get Maria and Lucky in trouble-maybe all of us. If we get suspended or kicked off the team, they get to play. Come on.”

Ako and Val pushed their way through the crowd to where Maria and Lucretia stood by themselves under one of the basketball hoops on the blacktop. Gray clouds piled up overhead and she felt a few drops of rain on her face. A few other Hispanic kids stood by watching, waiting to see what was going to happen.

“This is a set-up,” Ako said to the twins. “They’re trying to get us in trouble!”

Maria looked depressed and only shrugged. Lucretia was pulling off her sweater. Ako looked over at Tania. She had a scared look on her face.

“I bet she’s never even been in a fight,” Val laughed. “She looks like she’s gonna have a heart attack or something.”

“She’s gonna wish she’d never been born. Nobody screws with my sister.”

The look on Lucretia’s face was scary. Ako didn’t know what to do. She respected Lucky’s right to defend her sister but she didn’t want the whole team destroyed. She realized it was just her own selfishness that was driving her and pushed it aside. If there was gonna be a fight, she’d stand with the side she thought was right.

Lucky started toward Tania and the students tightened their circle around them. Tania’s head jerked toward her and she looked as if she wanted to run away. Tears welled up in her eyes. This is gonna be short, Ako thought.

Just then they heard a shout “Teacher!”

The crowd parted for Coach Murphy and Vice-Principal Akins.

Coach Murphy’s voice boomed out over them. “There won’t be any fighting here this afternoon, people. Everybody clear out!”

He walked directly toward where Val, Ako, Maria, and Lucky stood. To Ako, it seemed like they were all holding their breath. Coach Murphy stopped and took a moment to look each of them in the eyes.

“I know why you ladies are out here and I respect you for defending each other, but there are better ways to deal with this. You girls are outstanding Mustang athletes,” he waved his hand in a dismissive way toward Tania and her friends. "I’m holding you up to a higher standard of community. When you play on one of my teams, and the JV’s ARE one of my teams," he looked directly at Ako, “I expect leadership from you all. I expect you to put aside your interests and problems as individuals, and work together. Your first responsibility is to the team. We’re one people. We have an objective and it’s not just about winning basketball games. It’s about supporting each other and learning to be responsible for each other. You’ve done part of that by standing together here-now learn the second part, and walk away. There are some things more important than being individuals. Now take off, Coach Stallings is waiting for you at practice. And ladies,” he gave them a stern look, “no fighting off the court!”

He allowed a half-smile to momentarily grace his face, then waved them away. The four girls ran trotted off to the locker room.

They had a bye weekend in January. The weather had turned brutal. Practices were suspended for a few days due to the icy road condition- especially at night-about the time practices would normally be over.

Ako went over to Val’s house for dinner and to sleep-over. Her Auntie and Uncle had gone to the city to look in on her Great-Grandparents. Uncle Sammy and Auntie Lara were at the trailer watching her little brother. They always stayed in Ako's room and she slept on the couch with her brother. Her little brother, Sherman, still had nightly “peeing” problem. He just couldn’t seem to wake himself up. Akomachi had been awakened many nights by his crying and was the person responsible for getting him up and out of his wet shorts, into the tub for a quick wash, toweling him off and then changing the bed and arranging the towel on the wet spot under the new sheet. Akomachi knew that part of it was losing their parents. Sherman had been only three but she knew he still missed them. She could hear him whimpering in his sleep and more than a few nights he had climbed into her bed wide-eyed after a bad dream. Still, as much as she loved him, she didn’t relish sleeping on a cramped couch as he rolled around and around all night.

“My mom’s making a great dinner." Val teased. "Honey cornbread, fried potatoes and some trout my Dad caught up at the lake last weekend.”

That sealed the deal. Ako noticed a new photo in the living room of a pretty girl in a beautifully crafted Jingle Dress.

“Is that your cousin? I forgot to ask you if she won.”

“Let's see, that was months ago. No, she didn’t win that one, but she’s been doing the indoor circuit and she won one a few weeks ago in Oklahoma. The whole family was there except us. My Dad said the roads were too bad to drive and I couldn’t afford to miss practice.”

“You’re family is really into that, huh?”

“Yeah, did you know that my Mom used to dance?”

Ako shook her head.

“She was a champion traditional dancer. I put on all her regalia last year and I couldn’t believe how heavy it was, once you got it all together. She was really good. My Dad said her fringe always bounced in perfect rhythm with the drum. My Grandma worked two years on her outfit. I’ll show you sometime.”

“I can’t believe how much goes into those powwow outfits,” Ako said.

“It’s a big deal,” Val replied. “It takes a lot of people working together to keep you going. It’s almost a community effort. Outside people just see the dancers but they don’t realize how many other people are involved.

“What was the dance like that you went to, any trouble?”

“Naw, it was quiet. Most powwow people are pretty well behaved these days. All of them are drug and alcohol free and security is tight. If they even think you might be a problem they have a talk with you.” She whispered out of the corner of her mouth as they went into her room. “I met a boy.”

Ako couldn’t take her eyes off the collection of warrior women drawings on Val’s wall. They were so beautifully done-intricate and colorful.

“A boy, huh?” Ako filled her cheeks up with air, pushed up her breasts with both hands and held her hand out from her belly a foot-creating the image of pregnancy.

“No!” Her Cousin pushed her roughly and laughed. “We didn’t do no tipi creepin’. My Grandma was right there! Besides, I’m smarter than that. But he was, what does my Grandma say, “a dish?”

They laughed together and talked about boys, basketball, school, and life on the Rez until dinner. Ako was so stuffed she was glad she didn't have to walk home. It was nice to have other people around you that cared, she thought. Val was one of the few people on the Rez whose parents were still together. Ako thought that that’s what she wanted if she ever had kids, she wanted them to grow up with both parents in the home. That’s the way it should be. Parents surrounded by Grandparents, surrounded by Aunties, Uncles and Cousins. Extended families, that’s what had made their peoples strong. When that broke down, and people were alone-that’s when trouble came along.

Basketball season ended with their JV team taking the championship, just barely. The relationships between the girls had gotten worse and worse as the season went on. A number of the white girls from the eighth grade team were unhappy that the coach had played Lucretia, Maria, LaTesha and Kim more than them. After all, they were part of the “good-ole’ boy” network that had started, and run the town for decades. That their daughters should be pushed aside for new players was aggravating and they took every opportunity they could to criticize Coach Stallings. Unfortunately for them, winning the championship took the wind out of their sails. What could they say?

Ako knew that a lot of their frustration was racially motivated. She’d heard the nasty names in whispered conversations in the corner of the locker room or in PE. But the local press had made a big deal out of the team’s success and was projecting great things for the team. Of course, Ako was a big part of their reports, having broken the school record for points and assists with LaTesha coming in just under the previous record herself. The local paper always seemed to have a picture of her or LaTesha in it during the season. Kim was featured once, and Kristy even got a write-up after making five consecutive free-throws but then fouling out at the end. The paper touted the team as one of the best JV teams in the state. Akomachi wondered whether they could hold together long enough to win the next season. It was one thing to win as freshmen and quite another to win it all in back-to-back seasons.

Summer was hot and dry. The Ceremonial season kept Ako busy. Her Uncle Sammy had her out working every weekend with her Grandma and Aunties on some project or another. Val was gone on the powwow circuit with her Cousin and Ako spent a lot of time shooting hoops alone and working at the Co-Op. By the time the school year rolled around, Ako was tired of sleeping-in and lounging around. Despites her attempts to stay busy, she was tired of how slow the days seemed to pass. She hated to admit it, but while other kids on the Rez wanted to drop out or cut school all the time, she loved school! Of course there were teachers and adults she couldn’t stand, but that was the same as everywhere-at work, even at home!

Football, volleyball and soccer season were uneventful. None of the teams performed very well and none of them made it into the sectional playoffs. Everybody was primed for basketball. All four teams, girls and boys, had a real chance to win their leagues, and the girl’s varsity team had a real shot at the State Tournament.

The level of excitement at the school rose noticeably on the first day of practice. Coach Stallings gave his usual pep talk, but finished it by saying that there was a chance that at the end of the season, if the varsity girls made it into the playoffs, that Coach Murphy would bring up two or three of the JV girls to the varsity team for Sections and State.

“Because of that, we’re changing our practice schedule to emphasize the offensive and defensive techniques that the varsity practices,” he explained. “We’re going to use their drills, their offenses, and their defenses. It’ll be hard for some of you to catch on ‘cause Coach Murphy runs some pretty advanced stuff,” he looked pointedly at the four new freshmen players, “but it’ll make all of you better players in the end.”

As they ran through the locker room door and out on the court, one of the freshmen girls, a slender black girl named Maya, fell heavily to the floor. LaTesha and Ako helped her up.

“That white girl pushed me,” she complained, pointing to Kristy.

Ako saw LaTesha’s lips tighten and her eyes narrow as they looked out across the court at the five white girls stretching together under the far basket.

“That girl’s got somethin’ coming,” LaTesha fumed.

“And it's only the first day!” Ako sighed.

LaTesha looked at her expression and her anger disappeared. She laughed out loud. The five white girls looked their way. LaTesha locked her arm around Ako’s shoulder.

“Come on, Rez girl, don’t be so serious. We’ve got a championship to win!”

Ako felt her spirits lift as the whistle blew and the season started.

The first local tournament after Thanksgiving seemed to justify the newspaper’s predictions. Both the JV and Varsity teams were blowing out their opponents by an average of twenty points a game. The mood of the team had brightened, as everybody was getting ample playing time. Coach Stallings wasn’t happy about their defensive efforts but the Mustangs offense was clicking on all cylinders already. Ako scored more than fifteen points in each of her first three starts and LaTesha was averaging ten.

Ako was having a great time. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. And to make it better than perfect, her Great-Grandfather and Grandmother came to each of her games! It was the first time they had ever come to see her play. In eighth grade, her Aunties and Uncles had all made it to a number of her games but her Great-Grandparents had never made the long trip from the city. Now, it seemed like they were driving up for every game! It was about the best gift she could imagine.

She and her Great-Grandpa were very close. He was ninety two years old, but when her parents had passed she had gone to stay with them for almost six months. Their influence and quiet dignity during the crisis had made a profound effect upon her. Late at night, listening to the city sirens, in those first horrible days when she couldn’t sleep and lay awake wondering if it was all her fault, her Great Grandpa was there-brushing her hair back softly from her forehead, kissing her gently on the cheek, speaking to her in his soft low voice, telling her old stories. The stories seemed to soothe her; to give her back some hope; to help her believe that life could continue for her. It wasn’t just what he said, it was what he didn’t say. It was how he carried himself. And when she’d shown interest in roundball in third grade, it was her Grandpa that had convinced her Auntie to let her play in the Peewee league with the boys. She was the first girl player allowed to play, and now all the Peewee Leagues were co-ed. By the sixth grade her Grandpa began calling her “Born to Play”. It was something she adored about him. He was affectionate and funny, as well as stern and serious.

As Ako ran out on the court for the introductions to their first tournament championship game, she was smiling a huge smile. Unfortunately, her smile didn’t last long.

Kristy got into foul trouble in the first period. She came off the court at a time out yelling at Kim for not opening up so she could get through the screens.

“I did open up,” Kim replied calmly. “If you’d been in position in the first place, instead of trailing her all over the court, you wouldn’t have had to reach in.”

Kristy gave her a nasty glare and sat down on the bench, whispering to one of the freshmen girls, Sarah.

The game see-sawed back and forth throughout the second and third period and, at times, Ako felt the Mustangs go out of sync. They weren’t used to being in a close game. They’d gotten too confident. They were rushing things, not being patient, not waiting for good opportunities.

Coach Stallings hovered over them like an angry buzzard.

“That’s some of the worst hustle I’ve seen from you girls in a long time.”

He looked right at Kristy, who looked away quickly like she didn’t notice. The scoreboard showed them down three with five minutes to go.

“Keep this up and you might lose this game,” he cautioned. “We need every rebound."

As the girls ran out on the court he motioned to Ako.

“Keep an eye on things at the top of the key. If Kristy gets hung up on the screen on that side, you’ll have to be in a help position. That girl can hit the three, I’ve seen her. She hasn’t done it yet today,” the Coach looked out onto the floor and then back at Ako, “but I know she can do it. Don’t let her get that shot!”

Ako nodded and ran out just as the ref handed the ball to LaTesha. They took it down and Ako hit a ten foot jumper off LaTesha and Kim’s double screen. They hustled back down the floor and set up their D.

The coach had called an unusual set. They started like they were in a zone, until the offensive players came down-then they changed to man-to-man. In this set, LaTesha and Ako took the top, Kristy had the paint, and Kim and Maria had the low block, forward positions. When the ball approached the key they shifted to take their players. The ball came up the side away from Ako, down to the forward and in to the low post, then back up to the top. It swung around her way but she almost stole the ball from the redhead she was guarding and the girl got rid of it in a hurry, passing it back to the guard on the opposite side of the key.

Ako saw the player Kim was guarding, a tall dirty blond with a million freckles, flash from the low post to set up a screen on Kristy, as the center, another tall blond with a perfect milky-white complexion, wheeled off the screen to the low post. Ako slid down just as the guard from the other side tried to force a blazing pass through the middle to the low block where “cover-girl” was posting up. Kristy fought her way off the screen and was late getting into position, but Ako made it there before her and had the post effectively sealed off toward the baseline. The blond handled the fiery pass, faked going baseline and pivoted, dribbling expertly with her left hand toward into the paint.

Akomachi had good position but as she slid over to cut off the dribble, Kristy forced her way into position and stepped directly on the top of Ako’s foot. Akomachi’s momentum caused her to pull up and twist suddenly in a direction she hadn’t intended to go. She felt a pop in her knee and hot knives stabbed her there mercilessly. She fell to the floor and was run over by the blond going to the net. A bony knee caught her underneath her chin and her vision was filled with tiny sparks of light bursting into blackness.

She woke up, lying on her back, with Coach Stallings calling her name and someone lifting her head gently and placing something behind her neck. She felt woozy and kind of sick to her stomach. The Coach was continuing to call out her name so she responded.

“Here!”

A wave of laughter rippled among the players hovering over her. Val’s face appeared next to the Coach.

“She’s OK.” Val made a face at her. “Always got to be the center of attention,” she joked.

A jolt of pain from her knee reminded Ako what had happened.

“My knee!”

Coach Stallings called out the trainer, Sally Gaines, to check her out. Sally gently felt around her knee and moved her leg slightly. Ako’s groans caused the woman to shake her head negatively.

“She’s done for today. We’ll take her in for an MRI to see what’s what.”

The next five minutes were a blur as they helped Ako get up and hop over to the bench on one leg. A few minutes later her family was gathering up her warm-ups and water bottle. They all had grim expressions on their faces and most of the team looked panicky. Ako yelled out for them to win as she was helped out of the gym but she wasn’t sure they heard her. Kristy never looked her way.

At the hospital they waited two hours in the emergency room before someone came to take their information. Ako knew that if Sandy Gaines hadn’t been there, they might have sat all night. The hospital was famous for letting Native people sit there for hours and then sending them home with painkillers and no treatment. There’d even been an expose in the paper about it and an internal investigation. But it hadn’t really changed anything. Those people that had married to white people got better treatment than the Rez families, but you still had to have someone watching them pretty closely. She'd known an elderly woman with diabetes, Nettie Hodges, who had damaged her toe pretty badly during Christmas trying to chop two-by-fours for kindling with a dull axe. The woman had come to this same emergency room with a terrible gash, bleeding and swollen. They’d given her Tylenol with Codeine and released her, telling her to go to Indian Health after the weekend if it wasn’t better. Her son took her back in on Sunday with blood poisoning. They amputated her foot on Monday and she'd died on Tuesday from a heart attack.

Ako had no confidence in the ER staff at all, but she trusted Sally Gaines. Sally was one of those people who didn’t see skin color. She didn’t care where you were from; if you were red, black, green, or purple-it was her job to take care of you.

After another hour, they were on their way home. Akomachi hadn’t torn any ligaments in her knee but she’d stretched some to their limit, and had a bad sprain and a concussion to boot. She was out for at least a month-four to eight games. Half a season. It was going to seem like forever!

She got used to the crutches pretty fast, and the names that went with it. “Hop-A-Long, Chief Pogo, and Rez-Sticks were three of her least favorite. She attended practice every day, fuming on the bench-angry, frustrated, and feeling useless all at the same time. Kristy had never apologized and Kim just shrugged when anyone asked what had happened.

“Got my feet tangled,” was all she would say.

Their practices had turned ugly, with a lot of yelling, accusations and shoving. The Coach seemed to spend half the time settling arguments or having them run as punishment.

It got worse a week later when Maria and Lucretia were called into the principal’s office and accused of cheating on an exam. The accusation was anonymous but it was school policy to treat any accusation of cheating seriously. The teacher, Miss Franks, seemed non-committal and really didn’t support the twins the way Akomachi expected. A rumor started that Miss Franks had been dumped at the altar by her Hispanic fiancé and she was punishing the twins for that indignity but Ako thought that was pretty far fetched. She was probably just one of those American individuals that thought everyone’s problems and victories were their own and you shouldn’t get involved.

Maria and Lucky were suspended from all extracurricular activities during the term of the investigation. That meant that two of the white girls that had been sitting the bench were now starters. That first practice came to a screeching halt when Kim overheard Kristy and the white girls, Mandy and Colleen, discussing their plan to get Maria and Lucretia in trouble. Kim told Lucretia and Val and they confronted Kristy, who just laughed and said, “No comment!”

LaTesha was all for going right to the Coach while Val wanted to take a more direct approach.

“Let’s punch their friggin’ lights out!”

Ako tried to be the voice of reason, even though she had a hard time swallowing the idea that Kristy might get away with it. She was sure it was her, or her Dad’s idea in the first place.

“Come on. If you tell Coach, he might not believe you anyway. If we pound on them, we’ll all get suspended and there won’t be a team. Just let it go for now and Maria and Lucretia’ll probably be back next week.”

As it turned out, that’s exactly what happened. The twins were back after missing only one game. A game they lost by twenty points. It was the worst loss in Coach Stallings’ career. But the next four games weren’t much better. Two they won by three points or less and two they lost by ten-even with the twins back. The team had disintegrated into bickering back and forth-even on the court. Everybody seemed to just ignore Coach Stallings lectures about team play, and his warnings and dire predictions didn’t even get a response. Ako could see he was losing control of the team. A few more losses and it wouldn’t matter; they’d never even make the playoffs, let alone win a championship.

In the Thursday game, against Kentworth High, Mandy had pushed Kim into the referee on the sideline, knocking him into the seats because Kim berated her for a reaching foul on the Kentworth point guard. It was the first time Ako had ever seen a technical called for an action against one's own teammate. It cost them the game. With fifteen seconds left, the tiny little Hispanic point guard that Mandy's foul had sent to the line, calmly buried her two free throws, and then buried two more for the technical foul. The last fifteen seconds flew by and they lost by three.

Coach Stallings looked like he was going to throw up. He didn’t even talk to them after the game; just let them shower in their little groups and gather up their gear alone. He sat mute in the bus seat behind the driver the whole way, looking silently out the window at the walls of plowed snow. Ako and Val sat in the very back of the darkened bus. The ride home was silent as a graveyard.

Friday, Ako went to the Tribal Health Clinic and got released from her crutches to begin her rehab. She used them to get her home, then up and down the trailer steps and out to her backboard where she stretched tentatively, not wanting to test her knee before she took some shots. Her first shot rebounded right back to her and she fired up a follow-up. She heard a cracking sound and watched in horror as one of the lodgepoles cracked and split, eventually breaking off. The plywood backboard hung at a crazy angle. Akomachi just stood and stared. It was so unexpected she didn’t have time to even imagine it. The backboard had been there so long it was like a part of her. She left the ball where it lay, put her crutches under her arm and limped back to the trailer. She only picked at her spaghetti and cornbread, then went to bed early. Her Aunt and Uncle watched American Idol by themselves for the first time since the show had been on, but they didn’t ask what was wrong.

On Saturday, she got up late and her Aunt and Uncle announced they were all going to the city to see her Great-Grandparents. Usually Ako felt excited about making the two hour drive, but today she was apathetic. It was hard to get excited about anything with her old friend hanging, crippled, out in the yard, net almost dragging the ground.

The trip seemed to take forever, and even the traditional bargain meal; cheeseburger, fries and a coke didn’t relieve the gloom.

She perked up a little when they entered her Great-Grandma’s house. She thought it was the smell-cedar and sage mixed with wonderful kitchen smells. Bread was frying in the pan, beans cooking on the stove and the smell of one of her famous spice cakes, cooling on the top of the fridge. As Ako sniffed deeply, her Grandma gave her a pat on the shoulder. Ako leaned down so the tiny woman could kiss her cheek. Then she kissed the gray hair on the ancient forehead and hugged the fragile shoulders.

“Your face looks like you been worryin’.”

“S’okay, Nana. There’s just a lot going on at school.”

“Your Papa wants you to come see him out back.”

Akomachi nodded and gave her another quick squeeze. She walked down the tiny hall past the wash room and out the back door. She stood on the porch, appreciating the sight before her. Her Great-Grandpa had plastic tent circles of garlic and onions everywhere. His sweat lodge was bare and the skeleton frame looked like old rib bones in the sunlight, bark hanging off like skin. He was scraping a large elk hide with his shirt off. His small body was powerfully built, even if the skin was a bit loose and wrinkled, and his mahogany colored skin glistened with the sheen of perspiration. She could hear his breath whistle between his teeth as he scraped. She walked to his side and stood watching his measured, careful movements with the sharp scraper peal the hunks of meat and tissue cleanly from the green hide.

“Guys who skinned this sweetheart need a lesson or two, “he said, between strokes.

Ako compared the way the hide looked to those her Uncle's Sam, or Tim, skinned. Theirs were almost completely clean-no meat, very little blood and never a knife cut that penetrated the hide. This one had cuts all around the edges but was whole in the middle.

“All she’s good for is cord and maybe a kid’s drum,” he said, as if he knew her thoughts.

He did that a lot. It was like they could almost have a conversation without speaking. She liked that. She didn’t have to worry about whether he understood what she was trying to say or not. She knew he did. He always did.

"How's the knee feelin' ?"

"It's Okay. Just a little sore. I've been kinda afraid to test it..."

"And the team?"

"We're in deep shit!"

He glanced at her out of the corner of her eye disapprovingly.

"Sorry Papa. I forgot."

Grandpa didn't approve of cursing. He thought it was a waste of words. Better to not say anything than to curse. He and Nana never cursed. They were about the only people Ako had ever known that didn't curse in about every sentence they said. Even her mom and dad had cursed freely. Most of her teachers even cursed once in awhile. She and her friends cursed all the time. Somehow though, now that she was older, it embarrassed her to curse in front of her Great-Grandparents. They expected something more from her and she wanted to prove to them, and herself, that she could do it. It wasn't easy. Once you got in the habit of something, it was hard to change.

Her grandfather turned back to his scraping."What's the problem?"

"Well, you saw us-everybody on the team hates each other. The white girls are so prejudiced...it sucks!"

"Just the white girls?"

"The rest of us are pretty tolerant. We just want to win. We're all from different backgrounds."

"But you don't really like them either do you?"

"Not really...they've been bitches since the seventh grade!"

Her great-grandfather laughed out loud. "What's your coach doing about it?"

"Not much. I don't think he knows what to do. He's in way over his head."

Grandpa laughed again."What about Coach Murphy?"

"We haven't seen much of him lately. I think he's too busy with the varsity."

"I wouldn't be too surprised if you don't start seeing a lot more of him soon. Let's go inside and eat some bread," he said, changing the subject. "I'm gonna make us some powwow lemonade."

Grandpa was famous for his powwow lemonade. Fresh lemon quarters, water, Splenda, and ice shaken and shaken until it was cold, sweet, and perfect. As they sat at the circular wooden table, scarred and marked from years of service, Grandpa peered at Ako closely.

"You know those girls are just jealous. They've always been jealous of your talent. People often react that way when you've got something they wish they had. It makes them angry because they're by themselves. They don't get any pleasure from sharing in your success. We used to appreciate everyone’s gifts and celebrate everyone’s successes. Now most of us are just like them. We've gotten selfish. We only care about what we accomplish personally. We tear each other down every day. The only time we speak well of each other is at funerals. I miss those days when we really cared about each other; when being part of a Tribe meant something more than per capita. It's the same with your team. You're all guilty."

Akomachi started to interrupt, but stopped herself. Her Great-Grandpa usually didn't talk this much, unless it was about something important. She waited for him to continue.

"You know what I'm talking about?"

Ako shook her head negatively.

"You think that you're supporting the team, just because you all want to win. But that's not enough. Winning isn't what being part of a team is about. It's about supporting each other, making each player better. More talented players have an obligation to help their other, less talented teammates see how they are important and necessary. Forget the scoreboard. The team is what counts. What you learn from each other; how you feel together. If a team finds harmony together, it will always do its best. Sometimes that's enough to win, sometimes it isn't. It's like our people today. They feel neglected and unimportant so they act out of selfishness and shame, for their own purposes. That's why we have so few people willing to be leaders. We're afraid of being hurt, of being criticized, of making a mistake. It can go the other way too. If someone is arrogant or gets too full of themselves, they begin to act out of selfishness or pride, again for their own purposes-and we all suffer for it ‘cause they could be the ones that would really help all of us. When we recognize a shared responsibility for each other’s successes and failures, then we have trust between us. A spirit of generosity, that's what our Old Ones had-towards everyone-Whites, Blacks, Mexicans, Indins, it didn't matter. That spirit of generosity made us strong. You have the talent. If you really want your team to be successful, they need a leader; one that's interested in all their successes-and not just pretend-interested, the real deal. Be the roots of the team, let them sit on your shoulders, help them realize their dreams. Waiting for them to grow up; to be responsible; to throw away their prejudices-that could be a long wait. You have to show them the way. A real leader can do it. That's how, in the old days, we knew someone was a leader. They showed us how we could be better by their example. They helped us feel pride in ourselves…that our opinions mattered and we were important. You might not win a championship, but you'll win friends, maybe even family. That's more important than any trophy."

Akomachi was quiet the whole drive back to the Rez. She was thinking about what her Great-Grandpa said. It was definitely a different approach than any she'd seen in her life-except for maybe the way her Uncle Sammy was. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that's what she respected about Sammy. He put everyone else before himself. He always complimented people; always asked how he could help them. In every way, he was what Grandpa was talking about. No matter how people treated him, he gave back his best. She wasn't sure she could do it with someone like Kristy, but maybe she would try. What could it hurt?

Ako woke up to the sound of the tires on her Uncle Sammy's truck crunching on the gravel outside her Auntie's trailer. She hesitantly peeked out the window toward the spot where the disabled backboard and hoop stood waiting to remind her of poverty, only to be shocked to see two freshly peeled lodgepole pines standing straight and gleaming in the frosty moonlight. She leaped out of the truck, forgetting her gimpy leg and was reminded by a small twinge of pain. Instantly, she slowed herself down and gingerly trotted over to take in the sight of the freshly painted sky-blue backboard sitting atop the two yellow-white pines, sporting a new orange hoop and a stiff black net. She turned to see her Auntie standing on the front porch. Her wide smile was visible even in the moonlight. Her brother Sherman squeezed his way gently past her with Ako’s ball firmly clutched in his small hands. He pushed the ball out toward her with a two-handed pass and giggled. Uncle Sammy stood beside the corner of the trailer with his hands in his pockets.

“Take a shot, Shorty", he said. "See if it all falls down!”

Ako was speechless. She hopped toward the ball as it bounced crazily on the gravel and, with a smooth motion, scooped it up, found her grip, pivoted and shot from three point distance toward the never-before used net. The ball seemed to have its own eyes as it sought the net and sliced through cleanly. Everyone in the yard broke into whoops and hollers. Ako’s heart pounded with a fullness she hadn’t felt since long before her parents had passed on. It seemed an important moment and she remembered something her Mom had said to her during one of her few un-stoned moments shortly before she was killed. They were having lunch together in town. The Casino had had to close down because a water main had broken and the bathrooms and kitchen had to close so she got the afternoon off. She’d surprised Ako by picking her up at school, actually taking her out of class. At first, when she saw her, Ako had been frightened, thinking something was wrong. But her mother had smiled her perfect broken-toothed smile, and before long they were in Sophie’s Diner in town having hamburgers, fries and milk shakes. Her mother had chosen a booth where they could sit side by side rather than a table where they were across from each other. Ako remembered that her mother had finished before her, then leaned back and put her arm around Akomachi’s shoulders, closing her eyes and sighing deeply.

“Sometimes there’s moments you gotta remember, Hon. Like signposts in your life. Take a breath, snap a picture for forever. Being here with you, right now-for me it’s one of those times.”

Ako’s eyes filled with tears, but she was surprised that instead of feeling sad like she usually did when she thought of her Mom, she felt content-and that was the best feeling of all. She let the ball roll away into the brush and walked over to each of her family and gave them a monster hug, letting her tears flow silently down her cheeks without wiping them away. Her Uncle Sam gave her a huge bear hug and lifted her feet from the ground.

“You did this, didn’t you?” she asked.

He shrugged and gestured toward the others.

“We all did our part.”

She realized that she hadn’t hugged her little brother, and was surprised when he stood uncharacteristically still for it rather than pulling away like he usually did when she tried to hug him. He even returned the embrace in his reserved way.

“Let’s go in and eat. It’s been a long day,” said her Auntie Mel.

Ako let everyone go in before her. She stood in the doorway for a long moment, staring at the new hoop and thinking about what her Great-Grandfather had said about family and teamwork. Somehow the moment seemed so fresh she breathed a deep breath of the cold invigorating night air and said to herself, softly, “I will remember this.”

The week passed quickly at school. Grandpa’s prediction about Coach Murphy was dead on. He came to every JV practice and he and Coach Stallings often stopped the action to discuss strategy. Ako was practicing at about half speed and the coaches were keeping her out of the scrimmages altogether. This was the first round of the playoffs and they were fourth seed in the JV competition. To get to the next bracket they had to travel to play Martin Luther King High, an inner-city school in Morgansville almost one hundred miles away. It would be a four-hour bus trip that none of the players or coaches were looking forward to.

Their scouting had revealed that the MLK Warriors had gotten to the playoffs depending on physical play. Their league was known for having referees that believed in letting the girls and boys settle their scores on the court, refusing to let their calls interfere with the flow of the game. They had a reputation for letting calls go rather than stopping the action at crucial points which played right to the strengths of the Warriors. Their big center was six foot two and weighed well over two hundred pounds. When she blocked out for a rebound, she blocked out. Her weakness was that sometimes she got lazy, or tired, and didn’t hustle every play.

The Mustangs plan was to run ‘em to death, though the coaches were concerned about the speed of the two Warrior guards. They were both top conference sprinters and unless the Mustangs were in the best shape of the season, their strategy might backfire. One thing was certain, Ako and LaTesha would have their hands full, and Kristy was going to have to play the most physical game of her life.

The bus ride was much quieter than usual. Everyone had their pillows and bags piled around them. The coaches sat in front with the driver, talking quietly and looking at play diagrams. Kim was buried in her usual book. Maria and Lucretia talked and giggled quietly, LaTesha studied as Kristy and her friends listened to their IPods and MP3 players. Ako and Val just stared out the window or tried to sleep. They stopped once at a Wendy’s to go to the bathroom, but only a few of the girls bought anything significant to eat. Most of the girls just bought fries and a soft drink, and then fell asleep after the stop.

Everyone awoke for the crawl through rush hour traffic and pushed their faces close to the window when they entered the inner city. Only a few of them had ever lived in a place like this-except for Kim and LaTesha, who were the only two not paying attention to the city. Even the coaches stopped talking basketball and looked out at the sights. There was plenty of poverty, something that wasn’t at all new to Val or Akomachi, but the setting was, and they were as entranced as the others with the novelty of their environment. They pulled into a long driveway that led up to the parking lot by the gym. It seemed to Ako like there were thousands of kids loitering around their cars, talking and smoking. Hip-hop bass penetrated even the closed windows of the bus. As they pulled into the parking lot, hundreds of kids turned to stare at them. There were few smiles. The bus driver drove right up to the gym and Coach Stallings gave them a lecture about staying together and not going anywhere without telling him first.

The Mustangs retreated to the locker room as fast as possible through the hostile crowd, with school officials leading the way. They had two hours to kill until the game, waiting for the third and tenth round seeds to play before them. The coaches gave them a general preliminary talk about strategy and then spent five minutes laying out the ground rules for where they could go before suiting up.

“You can go sit in our area of the stands or eat at the snack bar in the gym lobby-but under no circumstances do we want any of you leaving the gym! Coach Stallings looked earnestly at each of the players sitting on the benches in front of him. “Some of these kids haven't got anything better to do than try and get you into trouble before the game. Don't play that!”

Ako could see the smirks on Kristy and her white teammate's faces listening to the Coach use obsolete street slang to make his point. LaTesha didn't seem to be listening at all and Val was busy drawing in her notebook. Maria and Lucretia were taking turns brushing each other's hair while Kim was buried in her book.

When they were released from the meeting, they all went to the snack bar to load up on carbs before it got any closer to game time. Ako and Val shared another fries and ate a couple of candy bars at one of the few empty tables. It was half-time of the game being played and the lobby filled up with the spectators from that contest. Ako lost sight of the rest of her teammates and she and Val gave up their table and headed into the gym to the section of the stands designated for the Mustang players, coaches and fans. They saw the red and black banner the cheerleaders had spent the last week creating and worked their way around the floor as the two competing teams warmed up for their second half. They'd just sat their bags down and were getting comfortable against the wall in the top row when LaTesha and Kim bounced up the bleacher seats. LaTesha's face was set and grim.

“Have you seen Kristy and the Clorox Gang?”

Ako and Val shook their heads negatively and looked out at the floor as the horn sounded for the beginning of the third period.

“Well, they're not in the lobby or the locker room-and we haven't seen them in the gym either.”

Val yawned in disinterest. “Who cares where they are as long as they make it back by game-time.”

“If they make it back!” LaTesha said pointedly.

Ako shook her head and surveyed the crowd around them more closely.

“Are you sure they aren't in here somewhere, sitting by themselves. Maybe some of their parents came down.”

“We've been around the gym three times-they aren't here,” Kim said. Her normally smooth features were twisted with concern. “I've got a bad feeling.”

Ako sighed and looked at Val. “Come on Cous, we've got to go discover the Americans, before they get eaten.”

“Why can't we just let them take care of themselves for once?”

LaTesha snorted in disgust. “You know those girls-they're out of their league here-they'd get annihilated. I doubt that any of them has ever been in a real fight that wasn't stopped right away by a teacher or adult.”

Ako stood up gingerly, protecting her knee. “I guess we better go look for them before it gets any later.” She looked up at the game clock. “We're 'sposed to be in the locker room for pre-game in twenty minutes. Coach'll have a cow if we're late.”

The four teenagers climbed down the bleacher benches one by one, stopping to search each row for signs of their teammates. They spotted Lucretia and Maria sitting with their older brothers near the bottom row and made their way over to them. After a short conversation all the girls stepped onto the floor together.

“Do you think we should split up and go different directions?” Maria asked.

“Nope”, LaTesha said forcefully. “We stay together.”

They followed close on LaTesha's heels, making one complete trip around the floor, oblivious to the hard fought contest raging just a few feet away. Then they made another trip into the lobby where a couple of bored looking students manned the deserted snack bar. They described their teammates to the two students but neither remembered seeing them go out the front door.

“Did you checkout the student lobby?” one of them asked as they started to walk away.

“What's that?” Val asked.

“Aw, it's where we go between classes or at breaks to talk and listen to music, do homework-stuff like that. It's safer than going outside.”

“How do we get there from here?” LaTesha asked.

After getting the directions they hurried through a side door in the lobby and found themselves in a busy hallway.

Lucretia looked at her watch and said, “Sheet! It's almost six." Doesn't anybody go home after school? It looks like the whole student body is still here.”

LaTesha answered. “They've got night school classes, ROP, and tutoring going on. Plus a lot of after school programs for kids who can't go home right away or who don't want to go home at all.”

“Why don't have we have anything like that at our school?” Kim asked.

“We don't live in the inner city.” Ako answered. “I doubt they'd get many of us there if we didn't have to be. Here they don't have much choice.”

“It'd be nice to have something like that student lobby though,” said Kim.

“At least we don't have to worry that much about safety,” Val snorted. “The most dangerous thing in our parking lot is the freshmen drivers.”

A shout and the sound of running feet caught their attention and they saw four or five students sprinting toward a doorway near the end of the hallway. Ako got the funny feeling in her stomach she always got when she knew something was happening, or going to happen, to her or her family. She started jogging down the hall toward the commotion, gesturing to her teammates to follow. As she reached the double-door's leading down another corridor, she glimpsed the top of a blond head surrounded by a knot of people. A muffled scream came from inside the circle and an alarm went off in her head. She broke into a full run and slammed through an opening in the crowd to find herself standing beside Kristy. Mandy knelt on the ground, blood running from a gash in the back of her head. A group of angry looking girls stood around the four white girls and Ako. One of them held a short piece of lead piping in her hand. LaTesha broke through to stand beside Ako, followed by Val, then Maria and Lucretia. Ako could see Kim trying to push her way through to them.

LaTesha stepped between the short, heavyset black girl slapping the piece of pipe against her hand and Mandy-now down on all fours.

“Leave her alone!”

“Oh, crap,” laughed the girl. “They even brought a “colored girl” with 'em. You their bodyguard-or their house nigger?”

“This is my team.” LaTesha answered.

Ako stepped forward. “And mine.”

Val was next. “And mine.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ako could see Kristy, wide-eyed and looking scared to death. Ako was nervous, but she wasn't scared. She and Val had been in a lot of fights at Native tournaments and gatherings. She had to admit that things had gotten a lot more peaceful at Native events in the last few years, as event managers began beefing up security and requiring participants to be drug and alcohol-free. Even the social dances didn't have as many fights and disturbances as they used to. Family-safe events were becoming more and more desirable in Native communities. She was shocked to think how long it had been since she had actually been in a knock-down, drag out fight. But at this moment, she was prepared for whatever was going to come down-and she knew Val was right there with her.

One of the other girls in the circle that faced them stepped forward.

“What are you-some kind of Mexican?”

“We're Native-Rez Sisters. We own all this land you're squatting on.”

Another girl facing them spoke up.

“So how come ya'll are backing up these whiteys?”

“They're here with us,” LaTesha answered. “We just come to play ball.”

“Come to get yo ass whipped, you mean.”

The circle of girls around them laughed together in a menacing way.

Ako swung her arm around, pointing at all of them in turn.

“So what's it gonna be-one at a time, or all at once?

The girls confronting them looked around the circle at each other, as if wondering who was going to make the first move. The short girl with the pipe stepped forward toward Kristy. Kristy's attention was on helping Mandy up off the floor, whimpering in pain and holding her head where she'd been struck. Ako reacted without thinking, kicking the heavyset girl in the stomach and knocking the pipe out her hand. The girl fell back trying to catch a breath.

LaTesha spoke quickly. “We just wanna play ball but we're here to kick ass if that's what we have to!”

The six Mustang girls formed a protective circle around Kristy, Mandy and their other two white teammates. For a moment it looked like there was going to be a serious confrontation. Then the short girl seemed to lose her nerve, now that she had lost her weapon.

“Let's split,” she said to her friends. She gestured at LaTesha and Ako. “Let these 'sisters' have their white pets.”

The menacing circle broke around them like a wave as the threatening group of girls hurried off down the hall.

LaTesha turned to Mandy. “How bad is it?” she asked.

“I'll live,” Mandy replied, “ but right now I'm seeing two of everybody.”

“Maybe you'll shoot better.” Val offered.

They laughed together and it seemed to break the tension as they hurried back toward the gym, with LaTesha and Akomachi leading the way. As they entered the locker room, Kristy touched LaTesha and Ako on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “That was pretty scary.”

Ako could see that LaTesha was going to say something, but appeared to change her mind.

“Yeah-it was,” Val spoke first. “But hey, we're teammates. We gotta stand together sometime if we wanna be the best.”

“That's right,” LaTesha joined in. “Just 'cause I wanna pound on you doesn't mean I'm gonna let some other home-girl do it! We may not always get along but we don't have to. It's like sisters-even sisters fight sometimes. We just have to have respect between us.”

Ako interjected, “Listen up girls-we can kiss and make up later. Right now, we got a game to win!” She put both of her hands out in front of her. “Who's number one?”

Kristy hesitated for a second, then stood toe to toe with Akomachi and reached out and grabbed both her hands. Looking around at the other girls, she said forcefully, “Mustangs.”

Val stepped in to put her hands on theirs. “Mustangs forever,” she pledged.

LaTesha was next. “Mustangs.”

Mandy, wincing with one hand holding a wet paper towel to the back of her head, put in her free hand and whispered, “Mustangs forever.”

All the other girls joined them, and a large jumble of hands knotted together. With one voice, they yelled together. “MUSTANGS!”

Coach Stallings stood in the doorway of the visitor’s locker room office with Coach Murphy. The tall black man put a hand on the top of his shoulder and said softly. “Coach, I think your team just arrived.” Stallings smiled and shouted. “Mustangs, in!”

Ten minutes later they were on the court, warming up for the District Five, Junior Varsity High School, First-Round Championship Game.

The game started with both teams suffering from the jitters; hurrying shots, making bad passes and forgetting defensive sets. The Mustangs took an early lead as Akomachi scored on two forecourt breakaway steals from the Warriors point-guard. The Warriors coach took a quick time-out to set up a two guard entry and the Mustangs responded by pulling their tenacious man defense back to half court.

After that it was a back and forth scoring as both teams found their rhythm and the game settled into the defensive battle everyone had expected. Ako was surprised how fast the Warriors were. Even the heavyset girls sprinted down the court and kept up the pace. The Mustang offense had to work hard swinging the ball back and forth around the perimeter to find inside openings for Kristy and Kim at the post. The Warriors zone was pretty solid and they were well disciplined, with hands high and waving, blocking the passing lanes and forcing the Mustangs to use up their clock time finding a decent opportunity to score.

Fortunately, Kristy and Kim were playing their hearts out at the post, and Kristy was using her body physically in a way she hadn't done all season. That resulted in her getting a number of good shots from the low block. She had found that the Warriors center could be drawn to one side with a head fake or stutter step. She scored three quick baskets before their coach shouted to one of the other Warriors to step in and help in the middle.

Coach Stallings called a quick time-out just before the half to direct Kristy to look for Kim when she fell into the double-team and the Mustangs got a quick basket from Kim to finish three ahead at the half. Half-time flew by, and before they knew it, it was mid-way through the third period. Ako hit two three pointers to open the period but the Warriors high scorer, a lanky girl with short cropped hair, got hot from three point land and buried three in a row to come roaring back and tie the game with a minute to go in the third period.

The Mustangs man-to-man defense had played the Warriors pretty tough except for a few switches they'd had to call when trying to fight through screens. The sheer size of the Warriors team made it difficult to cover even when Ako and LaTesha tried to open up to let the other through. The distance they needed to cover opened a short window of opportunity for the Warriors guard to get set from the three point line. When the Warriors got that opportunity, they were deadly. Coach Stallings was forced to bring up Maria to help. Fortunately the Warriors hadn't been able to take advantage of that weakness and hit the open post player for the short jumper around the key. The Warriors team all seemed to be strong scorers so the Mustangs had no choice but to run, run, run--to try to and limit Warrior scoring by tiring them out. So far, it hadn't worked.

On the last possession of the third period, the Warriors did something they hadn't done before, bringing their post high to the top of the key and screening Ako with the big center, forcing Kristy to cover their other short, but fast-as-lightning, guard as she drove in from the top of the key. She burned Kristy on the switch for an easy layup when Kim was late getting over to help.

The period ended with the Mustangs behind by two for the first time in the game. The huddle at the beginning of the fourth period was subdued and Ako could see a shadow of doubt and uncertainty creeping into her teammate's expressions. She pushed forward when the Coach finished telling them what they had to do on defense and stomped her foot and whooped to get their attention.

"Let's go ladies. Step up and get this done!" She glared at all of them with a challenging stare. "Do we want this or what? Look at what those girls did to Mandy. Are we gonna let them get away with that or are we gonna stomp their asses on the court? We've gotta punish them for thinking that this is their floor. We've gotta take away their home court and make it ours! Mustangs Rule!"

Val responded with a cry of her own and even Kim stepped forward with an unusual personal screeching noise that even Ako thought was kinda startling and scary! Everyone thrust their hands into the center in unison and their team cry of "Defense" sounded authoritatively across the court as the buzzer to begin the fourth period sounded.

Ako ran out to her defensive position feeling confident. Coach Stallings had told them that at some point he was going to call for the full court press and she was ready. She loved to press and loved to run. It was her kind of game. Until then they just had to be patient on offense and take the high percentage shots and play tough man at the other end. She heard the yell of a familiar voice and looked up into the stands to see her Auntie, Uncle, Grandma, Great-Grandmother and Grandfather and little Brother sitting in the small Mustang cheering section with Val's parents and relatives. It was the first time she had seen all her relatives together at a game since before her injury. Then she spotted her Uncle Sammy and her Auntie too. Unexpectedly, her eyes flooded with tears of joy as the whistle sounded and she was busy wiping them away as the Warriors brought the ball down. She wondered why she was suddenly so emotional but didn’t have time to ponder it. Then she was covering her girl and everything else faded into background noise and color.

The two teams scored quickly against each other at the beginning of the period and then the game settled back into a defensive chess match. At three minutes into the fourth period, the Warriors coach switched his defense to man and tried to dominate the Mustangs with their size but Ako and LaTesha recognized the man set immediately and called for a baseline trap that resulted in an easy score to tie the game. The big girl, trapped on the screen, had tripped trying to get through and had fallen heavily to the floor. Ako could see the angry expression on her face as she got up and recognized the opportunity. The center had suffered a couple of pushing fouls early in the third period and already had a total of three personal fouls.

As they ran back on defense Ako called to Kristy. "Kristy, switch with me."

The tall blond looked confused and shook her head negatively.

"I know what I'm doing. Switch! You take forty-four, I'll take eleven. Now!"

Kristy nodded and shrugged, sliding by Ako to cover the right guard coming down the floor. As the big center reached the key and discovered that Ako was covering her defensively, she began to jump up and down energetically, waving her arms and calling loudly for the ball. Ako crouched lower to the floor than usual, encouraging the guards to recognize the size mismatch and feed their center at the high post. It didn't take the experienced Warriors guard long to see it and she fired the ball in. Ako had seen the big center practicing her post moves in the pre-game warm-up. She had noticed that the girl rarely used her left hand to dribble and almost always used a head fake and stutter step to the right before coming back left with the dribble to drive to the basket. Once she committed to that move she was unstoppable. Ako just hoped the Refs would see it the way she did. She pushed up close behind the big girl, letting her feel her on her right hip-giving her an opening on the left to turn and drive. The big girl reacted predictably and gave a quick head-fake and unconvincing stutter step to try and draw Ako further to her right, before pivoting and starting her drive back to the left. But Akomachi knew where she was going and as the girl jerked her head to the right, Ako retreated two quick steps directly backward and then, as the center pivoted, slid to the left with a giant sidestep to end up almost two yards behind and directly in front of the driving center. Ako knew by the determined look in the black girl’s face that she wasn't going to stop for some puny little Indin girl standing in front of her on the way to the basket. No way! She was gonna take that shot come hell or high water. Ako set her feet wide and leaned forward as far as she could into the big girl’s driving lane. A moment later she felt like she'd been hit by a train and found herself flying backward on her butt and then back, way past the baseline and up against the crowded seats under the home crowd’s basket. A roar went up from the crowd as the ball split the net, drowning out the sound of any whistle. The black girl stood over her, with a satisfied expression on her face before turning to jump with her teammates and jog toward the other end of the court. Ako swiveled her head to look toward the nearest referee and was rewarded with the piercing sound of his whistle being blown again and again. Finally, red-faced and panting from the exertion of his efforts, the ref began waving his arms over his head and making the two handed pushing gesture to indicate he was calling an offensive charge on the big center.

The crowd went wild a second time, this time in protest, but to no avail. The referee pointed toward the floor and crossed his arms back and forth indicating no basket. The big girl could hardly be restrained, advancing upon him like she intended to assault him before she was forcibly restrained by her teammates. The Warriors coach was out on the floor pleading his case with the other officials who were listening politely but obviously agreed with the call. Ako lay on her back, savoring the moment and resting. A shadow blocked out the overhead lights and she opened her eyes to see Kristy standing over her, offering her a hand up.

"Good call-way to take the charge," the tall girl said, smiling.

Ako took her hand and stood. The two girls faced each other and Ako knew that everything in the past was past. This was a brand new day. It was just as her grandfather had said.

After that, the Warriors seemed to lose their concentration and fall apart emotionally. The big center fouled out on the very next Mustang possession and Kristy and Kim were able to dominate the high post offensively. Ako spent the remaining minutes driving the key and then making great assist passes to each of her teammates as they broke away in point totals to lead by twelve at the buzzer. The end of the game was a blur as the crowd emptied from the stands and the Mustang coaches hurriedly shepherded their players to the locker room. The post –game talk was postponed until they were all safely on the bus and headed home. Coach Stallings spoke briefly about how proud he was of them all, as Coach Murphy just beamed from the front seat and was silent. The ride home was noisy and boisterous. They were finally a team.

The Mustangs went on to win the Junior Varsity Championship and Ako was named to the All-County First Team with LaTesha. The girls weren’t just playing together as a team now but were becoming closer and closer off the court as well. Kristy even invited Ako and Val to her sixteenth birthday party. The girls went dutifully ‘cause Val's Mom said it would be rude to refuse in light of the peace and progress that had been made. They went and were bored to death with the Hannah Montana-like music and stereotypical American consumer party atmosphere.

Kristy sidled up to Ako as it was winding down and said, “Wish my parents would let us listen to 'real' music!”

Ako just smiled at her and thought how different things were now. Kristy was actually confiding in her! School was so much better now that everyone seemed to be getting along. The tension had dissipated in the halls and the whole school seemed to sense that something important had changed.

Akomachi stood in the doorway of her tiny closet looking at the few outfits she had to choose from. She was deciding which one of her two dresses to wear for the All-County Team Basketball picture shoot for the local paper and she dreaded the whole thing. She loved to play ball but she hated being singled out for attention and having to get up in front of people and smile when she didn't feel like smiling. To tell the truth, at those kind of events she usually felt like throwing up! Her Grandfather said it was her ‘Indin Values’ showing.

She was just about to make up her mind when she heard the phone ring. Her stomach knotted at the sound of the first ring and she knew something was wrong. She heard her Auntie's voice go from a cheery greeting to a hushed and thickly emotional tone. She stood still for a few moments and then slowly walked out toward the kitchen. Her Uncle was embracing her Aunt, and she could see her Auntie's shoulders shaking and knew she was crying. That could only mean one thing, and Akomachi braced herself.

“What's happened?” she said softly.

Her Uncle gestured to her to come over and join them. He reached out and put his arm around her while continuing to hold his wife.

“It's your Grandfather. He passed away in his sleep last night.”

Ako could hear her heart pounding. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins. She was intensely aware of everything around her-the big school clock ticking on the wall; the sound of her Auntie's soft crying; the murmurs of comfort her Uncle was making as he patted her Aunt gently. The kitchen faucet dripped and she could hear the water running in the toilet cause her little brother had forgotten to jiggle the handle before he left to go play with his Cousins. She felt the tears begin to run from the corner of her eyes and broke away from her relatives embrace. She opened the front door, feeling their eyes upon her and stepped out into the bright early-April sunlight. She gently placed her feet on the steps before her and slowly walked over to where her basketball lay on the gravel. She noticed the paint peeling from the metal barbecue nearby and it seemed to convey something meaningful. She focused her gaze on the far mountains. The haze of wood smoke that hung in the valley gave them a softer look, and her tears, coming faster now, blurred them. She walked over to the basketball hoop and leaned against the pole, then hugged it and emptied her heart.

The funeral brought out the entire Rez, with many people coming from the city and from surrounding states. There were even a few people from out of the country. Ako had known that her Grandfather was well respected as an Elder but she had no idea the reach and scope of his influence. She knew he would have found something funny to say about his funeral, and probably would have repeated his criticism that this seemed to be the only time people got together and forgot their petty jealousies and arguments. He always wanted people to get together at happier times-for graduations, or births, for the change of seasons and harvests. He thought people could get over their problems between each other that way. She looked around at her relatives and those that had come to pay their respects. They were bundled up as the weather had turned cold in the last couple of days and their breath together made a cloud over the patches of snow and green grass that covered the ground here. She noticed Coach Murphy towering over the others beneath a tree nearby.

She stood close to her Grandmother and was amazed at how she was holding up. She seemed to have lost some height, somehow smaller and frailer, but she stood straight, chin up, and her eyes were clear and bright. Ako thought what a great example her Grandparents were and how blessed she was to have had them in her life. She felt eyes upon her and looked around to see her Uncle Sammy, wearing his dark mirrored sunglasses, staring at her. At least, it seemed he was staring at her. She wasn't sure, maybe he was looking at her Grandmother. He reached up and took off his glasses and then she was sure he was looking at her. His eyes were somber but his expression was gentle. He gave her a half smile and a wink and all at once the grief went out of her and, even in this gathering of sorrow, she felt a peace and contentment that surprised her. Somehow, her Uncle's expression had made sense of her Grandfather's passing and she felt his presence among them. She realized that it was exactly the same expression she was used to seeing on her Grandfather's face when he was relaxed and at ease with the world.

Later, she stood next to her Uncle as the older men took turns remembering the qualities and accomplishments of her Grandpa and their exploits together when they were younger. Very often, their remembrances were humorous and the atmosphere of the gathering lightened, the sun seemed to warm up, and people started taking off their overcoats. Laughter floated over the bright multi-colored flowers that covered the area.

Her ears perked up as she caught the sound of Coach Murphy’s voice addressing the people.

He began by talking about his home life and where he had come from in the city. He had come to Pinewood, as a tall gangly outcast black boy, with no friends and few prospects. Ako listened intently as he told how her Great-Grandpa had volunteered to coach the fourth grade team at the elementary school, and then had moved on up to the seventh and eighth grade as Murphy progressed. “Murph” was benched by the ninth grade coach whose son he would have replaced and it looked like his career was finished until her Grandpa talked the high school into letting him coach the JV’s, and then the Varsity-free of charge. By the time Murphy graduated, and under her Grandpa’s tutledge, he had blossomed into an All-State player. Grandpa had helped him get a Division One College Scholarship-the first one ever given to a Pinewood athlete. Her Grandpa had been his Guest Of Honor at his first game in the NBA. Ako hadn’t known any of this. Now she understood her Grandfather’s interest in scholarships and her basketball career.

After Murphy finished, he ambled over to where her Grandma stood and quietly paid his respects. Then he took Ako’s hand, squeezed it gently, and said, “I could have never made it without him-he’s why I do what I do.”

She was surprised to see tears well up in his eyes as he turned to go. Her Uncle Sammy had moved to her side. Ako nudged him with her elbow and he nodded to let her know he was attentive.

“I feel like I need to do something,” she said.

He nodded again slightly but didn't speak.

“I need to start my life over again...some kind of new beginning...I don't know... .”

Her Uncle put his arm around her shoulders.

“Tomorrow-we'll talk.”

The stars were witness to the early June morning when, once again, she rode in the Old Chevy pickup beside her Uncle toward the mountains. She did not have a pillow this time and sat straight and tall in the seat despite the early hour.

Two hours later, she followed him up the winding narrow path toward the top of the ridge where the spires of rock formed silent sentries to the valley below. She wore only a pair of shorts and a halter top against the morning chill. In her hand she carried some prayer ties, her prayer sticks, a twist of tobacco and a small straight pipe that belonged to her Great-Grandmother. Her uncle carried a rabbit skin-lined wool blanket. They had not spoken yet this morning.

They reached the high point and climbed between the boulders to the highest point where a broad rock flattened out and made a ledge jutting out over the deep valley and river below. From this spot one had a full-circle view of the horizon and the mountains in every direction. The sky was lightening in the East. There was a circle of small rocks where someone had made a fire off to one side. Her uncle spread out the blanket and gestured for her to sit. He took out his leather tobacco bag and made offerings in each of the four directions. Then he put his hand on her shoulder and said simply, in his Arnold Schwarzenegger impression, “I'll be back.” Then he kissed her on the forehead and left by the same route they had come.

Akomachi sat, facing east, watching the sunrise-thinking why she had come to this place. She had had her Coming-Of-Age Ceremony two years before. That's what the girls did. They had their “Sunrise”. The boys were the ones that came to the mountain. They were the ones that were brought here to fast and pray. When her Uncle had suggested that she be prepared to come here she expected to hear all kinds of grumblings in the Community, but that hadn't happened. It was as if her Grandfather's passing had brought about some new understanding. It wasn't that the boys were having “Sunrises” or that the girls were coming here; it wasn't as if the age-old relationships and roles that the People had were being abandoned or changed...it was just the sense that this was a new time, with new possibilities and new realities especially for those Tribes that had 'lost their Way', literally. She knew that some peoples had retained much of their old traditions and whatnot but for her people it seemed the time for letting go and seeing where it brought them. People were being less judgmental, less argumentative, more accepting and more tolerant. They smiled more.

Akomachi thought that it was too bad that it took the passing of a beloved Elder to bring about this change but she knew her Grandpa, in the next world, loved it! And here she was, a girl of sixteen, perched in the Place of Eagles, where only boys and men sat-preparing to fast from food and water as long as she could to find her place in the world; to find her strength and guiding power.

She closed her eyes and began her first prayer. Something brushed her shoulder and she opened her eyes-but nothing was there. She squinted in the first sunlight breaking over the mountains and realized that she was wrong. It wasn't ‘nothing’ after all-it was everything! Her Grandfather was here with her, along with her Cousin Dinks and her Mom and Dad. She could sense all the boys and men who had prayed here before her; and all her relatives past and present. She smelled the scent of cedar and pine in the air and recognized the trees and plants around her as relatives. She was aware of birds singing, and insects buzzing. Even the sound of an airplane did not affect her concentration. She was aware of everything-and this was life. She was it, and it was her. Earth, sky, sun, moon, stars, water, wind, fire, plant, animal, human. A fresh breeze lifted her hair as she stood and walked to each direction to recognize the power there and pray. As she walked the circle, she thought of the roundness of the basketball she loved, how it was like the earth. She smiled. Soon she would begin to Dance. She would still bounce the roundball for pleasure, but for life-for her people, for her Aunties and Uncles, for her little brother Sherman, for Val, and to honor her beloved Great Grandfather and Grandmother-she would Dance.

Chubs' Killer Shot

Chubs knew it was time to get up and go to school. "Just five more minutes", he thought. He could hear his Auntie banging around in the tiny trailer kitchen, making his Uncle the “black soup” coffee he drank a pot of every morning. Through the flimsy wall he listened to his Uncle drag himself from his bed into the squeaky wheelchair and wheel himself into the bathroom.

The sound of water splashing in the sink made Chubs think of the waterfall in the canyon where his Grandpa had taken him for his puberty ceremony the previous summer. He remembered sitting alone at the top of a rocky escarpment, listening to the pounding of the water on the rocks below, imagining the spray of that cold clean water on his dry parched lips and deepening brown skin. At first it had seemed like torture, but after awhile the sound of the water was like a companion and his loneliness went away so he was able to concentrate on his prayers and not on his suffering.

He groaned as he rolled his body out of the narrow single bed and tossed the covers that had fallen to the floor back on top in a heap. He thought for a moment about making the bed but decided against it. His Auntie didn’t care. It wasn’t like at his Grandma’s house in town where he had chores to do every day, and he had to keep his bed made and his room spotless. Here, on the Rancheria, he was left pretty much on his own. Actually, he was lucky he even had a room! Many of his cousins and relatives slept on the couch, or shared rooms together.

He had come to live with his mom’s sister, Auntie Rose, from his grandparents house after his Papa Bob had passed away in July from diabetes-related problems, and Nana Mel followed him in September after suffering a bout with the flu and pneumonia. His Auntie said it was a broken-heart. She said that after fifty years, Mel just couldn't imagine going on alone. Chubs wasn't sure about that, his grandmother had always been a fighter! After all, she'd lost three of her own children before they'd become adults, and of her two grown children, one was a druggie and the other was in prison. Somehow with all that heartache and tragedy, Chubs couldn't see her giving up her life easily. His mom's drug problems had resulted in his living with his grandparents since he was a little boy. His felt the tears well up in his eyes as he thought of his Papa and how he would never again see him shoot his strange two-handed, underhand basketball shot as his Nana giggled from her front porch chair.

He turned his thoughts away from his sorrow and pulled on yesterday’s clothes. Two more days till wash day, then he’d have clean jeans again. The washer had gone out the week before and his Auntie had to scrounge coins from gathering plastic bottles to get enough to go to the Laundromat in town. His Uncle Bud’s Veterans disability check didn’t last long these days and his Auntie had lost her job at the Tribe’s Smoke Shop because she gave free cigarettes to the Elders she knew couldn’t afford them.

“Hey, Chubs-you gonna go to school today?” his Auntie called out.

“Yeah.”

“You want somethin’ to eat?”

“Nah, that’s okay, Auntie-I’ll get something later.”

“Well you better head out or you’ll be late again.”

Chubs had a problem with being late. He’d already been suspended twice for it, and it was only November. He told himself he better not be late again if he wanted to go out for basketball. He knew the coach would cut him right away if he missed practice for detention or if he was suspended. He wasn’t even sure he could make the team as it was. He’d always had a weight problem. The doctors said it might be his thyroid but his Grandma insisted it was the Twinkies and Cheetos and sodas he’d lived on when he stayed with his Mom. She wasn’t much on food. The only time she ate was when she didn’t have money for crank or had been up so long she was in danger of crashin’.

By the time Chubs had gone to his Grandparents, he was already twice as big as the other kids his age. They kidded him about it and nicknamed him Chubs-his real name was Jesse-but they always included him in their games. Native kids were different than white kids, Chubs had noticed. If the white kids thought you were different or didn’t like you for some reason, they wouldn’t let you do anything with them. Native kids just made a little fun of you and let it go. He was glad about that.

Chubs’ Uncle sat in his wheelchair at the round wooden telephone-wire spool they’d picked up at the dump. Now it was covered with a stained blue and white tablecloth and they called it their kitchen table. Uncle’s gleaming stainless steel Starbucks coffee cup he'd won at the Casino steamed in front of him as he looked out the small frosted trailer window.

“It’s gonna be cold out there today with that wind. You got your jacket?”

Chubs nodded, picking up his backpack and showing his Uncle the thin blue windbreaker he’d gotten for his birthday in October.

His Uncle snorted and looked back out the window.

“Don’t know as that’s gonna keep you warm. We need to get the boy a decent jacket,” he said to wife, as if Chubs wasn’t there.

“Maybe at Christmas,” she said, cracking an egg into the popping grease of her cast iron skillet.

Chubs opened the door and stepped out onto the small porch. His breath clouded in front of him and his ears stung from the cold as the wind crept down the back of his neck. He shivered slightly and wrinkled his nose, feeling the hairs crinkle as they began to freeze. The water in the puddles from the weekend rain was frozen solid. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and leaped down the two rickety wooden steps, jogging the gravel road toward town. It was about two miles to the Kensington Middle School from the Rancheria. If he didn’t hurry he’d be late again. He wished that his Auntie had offered to drive him, but pushed the thought away as fast as it came. The days of having things done for him were over. He really was, on his own.

Two hours later, his math and social studies teacher, Mr. Cowen, was passing out the assignments for the new week along with the signup forms for basketball. Chubs hurriedly stuffed the math papers in his binder and smoothed out the hoops forms on his desk. Mr. Cowen was lecturing them about the importance of volumes and areas but Chubs wasn’t listening. He took his best pencil and began carefully filling out the signup forms. He wanted to get them in as soon as possible. Basketball was his first love. He knew he wasn’t as good as a lot of the boys, but he thought he made up for that with enthusiasm.

Later, Chubs skipped lunch, eating only a few of his Cousin Della’s French fries, before he ran to the upper level playground area. He remembered the weeks of trucks, cats, and dozers that had cut down the mountain and leveled it for the tennis courts, basketball courts and soccer field. His Grandpa had complained bitterly that no one cared that the mountain had, at one time, been a sacred area for the local Native people. He’d gone before the County Supervisors about it, but they just referred him to the Planning Commissioner who told him that if there weren’t any bones or structures there, he was out of luck. Chubs could tell his Grandpa was really upset about it, but secretly he was glad they’d put in the basketball courts. It was the only place he had to practice where there was blacktop to dribble on and a hoop with a backboard to shoot at. At home the ground was uneven, the backboard warped and the hoop crooked. He dug around in the pocket of his windbreaker until he found the half-eaten Snickers bar he'd saved from the day before. It had taken a lot of will power not to eat it all. This was the payoff!

He approached a group of boys playing three on three and stood silently, chewing and watching. The tallest white boy was Ray Crooks, a dynamite inside player. The High School coaches had been watching him since the fourth grade. He was already six foot one and was still growing fast. His Dad was six-six and everyone thought he’d be bigger than that. Chubs’ cousin, Freddy, dribbled the ball back and forth between his legs at the top of the key. Chubs knew he was preparing to drive to the basket-he always did that before he made his move. Freddy was a point guard, probably the best in the school at ball handling, but he was also a ball hog. Chubs knew that his Cousin would have a hard time with Coach Wilson-the eighth grade coach. Coach Wilson would want him to pass the ball all the time when Freddy just wanted to go to the net! Freddy saw Chubs and waved him over.

“My Cuz’s here,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “Who's got him?”

Chubs could see some of the other boys shaking their heads negatively.

“Its okay, Cuz-if you let me use the other ball,” Chubs pointed to the one by Freddy’s bag, “I think I’m just gonna go work on my shot.”

Chubs was used to boys not wanting him on their team. Especially if they weren’t Native. Freddy looked at him carefully.

“You sure? You can be on my team.”

“Nah, teams‘d be uneven then-I’ll just go shoot.”

His Cousin shrugged and drove the basket before any of the opposing players could defend him, whooping joyously as the lay-up pounded off the backboard and cut the net. He thrust his thumb up in the air at Chubs and yelled, “Winner’s outs!”

Chubs picked up the extra basketball and slowly dribbled over to the far side of the playground. His first shot missed the backboard entirely and he looked around in embarrassment to see if anyone was watching. He set the ball down and walked over to his bag, fishing around for the bag of Skittles he'd gotten from the vending machine at the Fast Stop the day before. He tore open the bag and filled his mouth, then picked up the ball and dribbled slowly back toward the yellow paint of the key. He made sure that all his shots were from inside the paint, just in case someone was looking. He’d only made a few by the time the bell rang and told himself he’d have to do a lot better than that if he wanted to make the team. After school, he borrowed Freddy’s ball again and stayed almost an hour shooting and dribbling up and down the court. Finally it got so cold that the ball wanted to give up bouncing and Chubs started the long walk home.

His Uncle’s truck was gone and it was dark when he climbed the trailer steps and went inside. Inside, it was pitch black, but warm. He turned on the kitchen light, took some leftover macaroni and cheese from the refrigerator and heated it up in the microwave.

He remembered how his Nana had despised microwaves. When his Papa had bought her a little one from Kmart to make it easier for her to heat water for her tea, she’d made him take it back.

“I can heat my own tea water,” she said dismissively. “I don’t need to nuke it!”

Chubs missed them so much it hurt. He washed a spoon and bowl from the pile of dirty dishes in the sink and filled it up with the goopy orange macaroni. He sprinkled it with a ton of black pepper and some garlic powder and sat down to eat. Only two days until the tryouts, he thought. He was already getting butterflies in his stomach when he thought about it. He really wanted to make the Wildcat team.

On Friday, even before his Auntie got up to make the coffee, Chubs was dressed, and gone. This was the big day. He told himself he was gonna do great! All day long he shifted nervously in his seat, his eyes continuously checking the big round clock on the wall. At ten-to-three his stomach started doing flip flops and his mouth got dry. When the bell rang, he rushed to his locker and crammed down a small bag of Doritos from his emergency stash before he ran to the gym. He told himself he needed the extra energy.

Coach Wilson stood towering over everybody around him. At six feet four inches and three hundred and twenty pounds, he cut an imposing figure. He was surrounded by a crowd of would-be players waving their permission slips and team contracts. Coach Wilson was big on team contracts. You had to sign one to play. Chubs hadn’t been able to convince his Uncle Bud to sign. His Uncle had just eyed it suspiciously and said, “I don’t sign treaties.” He wasn’t laughing when he said it. Chubs had to ask Auntie Rose. She didn’t even read it before she signed. Of course, Chubs had to sign too. It was an agreement to keep a C-average in his classes, not to miss practice or get in trouble, and to do everything he was told by the coaches without any backtalk. Chubs had no problem with it. He was a little worried about the C-average part, but figured he’d jump that creek when he got to it.

Coach Wilson was starting to look a little agitated. He blew two short shrill bursts on the whistle that seem a permanent feature at the corner of his lips.

“Everybody to the baseline!”

He pointed for emphasis and the entire group sprinted to line up under the hoop beneath the far scoreboard.

Chubs was the next to last to get there. For the next fifteen minutes, Coach Wilson and his assistants collected the permission slips and contracts from every prospective player. Chubs recognized the two youthful assistants as players from the High School Panther varsity team.

“Okay-heads up! We‘ve got ten timed drills for you. Then you’ll each have an interview with me and you’ll be outta here. Players that are chosen will have their names posted on the bulletin board on Monday next to the practice schedule. If you’re cut-don’t take it personally but your name won’t be on the list. There’s…” Coach Wilson counted down the list of names quickly, “twenty-eight of you trying out for the team. We only keep fifteen and that’s a lot-so thirteen of you won’t make it.” His voice softened. “Look boys, I know some of you want this bad-but sometimes life doesn’t go the way you want it. If your name isn't on the list, it means one of two things-you either gotta get out and make yourself better through self-discipline and plain hard work-or you gotta move on to somethin’ else that you’re good at. But don't, I repeat don’t, waste time moping around. Everybody got that?”

There was a muted mumbling.

“Does everybody get it!” Coach Wilson’s voice went up an octave.

“Yes!” The response was definitely loud enough this time.

“Then let’s get to it. I want you to break up into two groups. First two drills are about speed. First little dessert we got for you is called a suicide, followed by another sweetheart we call side-to-sides.” He blew another shrieking blast on his whistle.

An hour and a half later they were done.

Chubs’ walk home took him a lot longer than usual. He chomped on a Butterfinger as he passed a heap of broken down cars and trash-littered trailer yards on the edge of the Rez. Most of the Native people didn't have the money to move their garbage to the landfill. Some of it had been there for generations.

When they first got the Casino, the Tribal Council had organized an effort to clean up the road that led to the Bingo Hall. The newly cleaned areas had stayed clean for about a year, then gradually started filling up again. Local people had written a number of articles in the paper about what an eyesore the Rancheria was, criticizing the Native people for not having the pride to keep their lands clear of garbage. His Uncle Terry had written a rebuttal, reminding everyone that Native people had never had garbage. Later, when they started getting stuff that didn't break down naturally, no one told them they were expected to haul it away to another piece of land--out of sight! Terry said that was a learned-value kind of thing. In the end it was about priorities. For poor people, spending the few bucks they had moving garbage from one piece of land to another just didn't seem to make sense.

Chubs chuckled as he thought of Uncle Jerry, his face red with emotion, saying sarcastically, "What difference does it make where the garbage is? It isn't like it magically disappears at the dump! At least we're putting it in bags now. We've learned how to organize our garbage. Someday we'll haul it away to the garbage reservation, like everybody else. Then the property values near the Rez will soar and all the real estate people will be happy. Imagine how wonderful the world will be, when all the garbage is reunited in one place--like a garbage heaven!"

Chubs cut through the meadow where the run-down houses ended and Bear Creek crossed the Rancheria. He stopped for a moment beside the rushing water to finish his candy bar. He was depressed and lonely for his Grandparents. They had always come to all of his Pee-Wee and seventh grade games. His Papa had been there after every loss, or bad game, to console him with his bony-armed hugs, while his Nana just smiled and made him his favorite dinner-Indian Tacos with hominy, and sometimes black beans. He really needed them tonight, but all he had was their memory. Life was hard.

It was cold, with a hint of snow in the air. The darkness was the deepest kind of black as a new moon hid among the stars. Out past the school, at the Rancheria boundary, the streetlights ended and there was no artificial light of any kind except for the occasional headlights of a passing vehicle. A carload of teenagers went by, hooting and hollerin’ at him. Chubs ignored them. He knew from the way one of the boys hung dangerously out the window that they’d been drinkin’ or were really loaded.

Chubs' Grandpa had started talking with him about alcohol and drugs when he was in kindergarten. He hadn’t preached to him about it, just pointed out people on the Rancheria and told him their stories so he understood the effects of abuse on their lives. Already, Chubs had been exposed to people smoking weed, drinking and doing drugs. Most of his family used something-some heavily, some not. Almost all of the Rancheria kids experimented with something but Chubs was the exception. He had loved and respected his Papa and couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing him and seeing that sad look he got on his face watching one of their people falling down drunk or reading about them being arrested. Many a night Chubs had lain awake listening to their discussions about his Mom. They always waited until they thought he was asleep, but he'd heard it many times, his Nana sobbing and his Papa trying to comfort her. When his Papa had passed on, Chubs went through a hard time. He'd been tempted to try drinking or crank. Then he happened to see one of his intoxicated Aunties beat one of his little Cousins for spilling her soda in the gym at the Tribal Council meeting. The swollen cheek and fearful look on her small face made an impression on him and that memory had helped him resist trying anything since then. Sometimes his friends called him “chicken” and other names, but Chubs didn’t care. He just kept imagining the smile on his Papa’s face when he firmly said, “No, thanks.”

He was grateful for the blast of warm air that greeted him when he opened the door to the trailer. His Auntie Rose was sitting in her chair watching a rerun of American Idol and drinking hot tea. She smiled at him.

"So, how did it go?"

His Aunt always seemed to know when important things were happening in his life, whether he made a big deal about them or not. Chubs felt sometimes that maybe she took too much of an interest, but he supposed it was a lot better for him than for so many of his cousins, whose parents or relatives didn't seem to care at all what they did.

Chubs shrugged.

"OK, I guess. I'll find out whether I made the team on Monday."

Her eyes searched his face carefully as she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Whatever happens, you be strong. You're a good boy."

Chubs grunted.

"Thanks, Auntie."

"Hungry?

"Starved."

Chubs said it, but didn't really mean it. The Butterfinger had taken the edge off his hunger. Still, he knew his Auntie Rose would think there was something wrong with him if he didn't eat. He thought about the chocolate-frosted Twinkie in the table drawer beside his bed and his appetite returned.

She giggled and chin-pointed toward the kitchen.

"I left you a plate in the microwave. Your Uncle got his check today and brought home Kentucky Fried Chicken. I gave you my biscuits, and there's two corns. Put your leftovers in the compost bucket, we're gonna have a big garden this summer."

Kentucky Fried Chicken was his Auntie's favorite food. Chubs thought she would eat it for every meal if she could. He hurried to the microwave, set it to heat his dinner and then sat down and watched a few minutes of "Idol." They were doing the segment of all the people that didn't make it. It was usually pretty funny, but some of the people were so awful it caused him squirm with embarrassment. The things Simon said to them made him cringe. He hated it when people were mean to others, especially when you could see they were trying their best. It wasn't their fault they didn't have a talent that met other people's expectations. Shouldn't their effort, desire, and risk of failure count for something? The microwave dinged and he grabbed his hot plate with the tail of his shirt and headed for his room. He couldn't watch anymore.

"Don't leave your dirty plate in your room again or we'll have ants," his Aunt cautioned. "And we're going to the city this weekend to visit your Auntie Ticks. I promised her I'd help work on Robby-boy's riggins."

Chubs didn't respond. He hadn't seen his Auntie Ticks much before his Papa and Nana had passed on. She and Nana didn't get along and they hadn't been speaking. Ticks was a registered nurse at the Hospital in Holman. She and his Nana had argued about his Mom's crank habit until they couldn't face each other any more. Ticks thought that Nana should have turned her in to the cops. Nana felt it was a family problem. She came from a time when Native people didn't turn to the authorities for anything for fear of what might happen. Ticks had made her own way in the world. She had a tough personality. Chubs' Papa had told him he thought Ticks was upset that her sister got so much the attention because of her addictions, while her own achievements seemed to be accepted without acknowledgment. His Papa had said that his Nana felt guilty about it, because basically Ticks was right, but Nana couldn't bring herself to admit it to Ticks, so they stopped speaking. Though Chubs didn't know his Auntie very well, he thought she seemed nice enough. Strict, but nice. His cousin, Robby-boy, was getting started grass dancing on the powwow circuit, and since his Auntie Rose was a whiz on the sewing machine, Auntie Ticks had enlisted her help in sewing Robby's outfit. Chubs had only been to one powwow. He thought it was pretty boring after awhile, except for the midway and all the snack shacks. The tasty Indian Tacos and fresh, hand-shaken lemonade had kept him occupied.

Chubs sat on the edge of his bed and scarfed down the last biscuit, then set the plate on the floor, telling himself he'd take it to the kitchen later. He turned on the radio, tuning it to the Tribal LPFM station, KRED. The community station was into its evening programming schedule, with one of his favorite DJ's, JT, playing Native Rap groups. He listened to Natay, Shadowyze, and Rollin Fox before falling asleep to Julian B's classic, "New Day."

Chubs woke up with his Uncle poking his shoulder.

"Get up, son. We're getting an early start. I don't want to hit traffic and we need to be gettin' back before dark tomorrow night. One of the truck's tail lights is out, and I don't got the money to buy another bulb."

Chubs moaned and rolled over on his side. "I thought you got your check," was what he was thinking, but he didn't say it out loud. He knew his Uncle had bought the chicken so his Aunt's attention wouldn't be directed to the five cases of beer stashed in the woodshed. Chubs figured his Auntie knew that the beer was there, but had to acknowledge her husband's gesture, so she didn't say anything. Not right now anyway. She'd wait 'til he got roaring drunk and nasty before she'd bring it up. Chubs hoped he was somewhere else when that happened. Their fights got pretty rough sometimes, and it scared him. Too many times on the Rancheria things got out of hand and people got hurt. It was part of the culture now. Everyone just shined it on. Chubs thought maybe if people talked about it more, maybe it wouldn't happen so much, but most Natives didn't seem to think talking would solve their problems.

He forced himself to get out of bed and get dressed, putting on the same clothes he'd worn to school the day before. He hoped his Auntie had gotten the money from his Uncle to go to the Laundromat so he'd have clean clothes for school the next week.

Auntie Rose was sitting at the spool eating fried chicken with her eggs and toast. She greeting him with her usual smile and pointed at the plate across from her.

"Sit and eat. Your Uncle's impatient to be going. Also, I want you to gather up your school clothes and put 'em in a trash bag in the truck. I'll use your Auntie Ticks washer and dryer."

Chubs sat down to eat and smiled at his Auntie gratefully. She took good care of him. He was lucky he had a relative like her to look after him.

Despite his Uncle's desire to leave early, they didn't get going until eleven. The truck didn't want to start and his Uncle had spent nearly two hours trying to get it going. Finally, he discovered that the coil wire had worked its way loose and he re-attached it with a long string of curses. Bud banged down the hood and climbed in to fire it up, still cursing.

Chubs would have preferred the windy ride in the back of the truck, but decided it wasn't a good time to be asking his Uncle anything. He sat uncomfortably between his relatives on the long ride to Holman. His Uncle cursed at traffic the whole way. They stopped at a Fast Stop for a soda on the outskirts of the city. His Auntie went in while Chubs and his Uncle stayed in the truck. His Uncle waited till his Aunt was in the store before he reached under the seat and pulled out a beer. He gave Chubs a 'you better not say anything' look and chugged it in one long pull, carefully stashing the empty back under his seat. He burped loudly and leaned back with a sigh.

"I wish your Aunt hadn't offered to help with this powwow business," he snorted derisively. "We aren't a powwow people. Never had nothing like that here until the 80's. Now everyone's a powwow tribe. Damn powwow's everywhere you look. Bead and feather Indins. We need to leave that all behind. Them times are gone. Plus, I got to deal with that wannabe brother-in-law of mine!"

Uncle Bud pressed his lips together as Auntie Rose returned to the truck and handed them both a soda. Bud sat his on the seat between them as Chubs popped the top on his Pepsi. His Auntie was drinking a bottled water. Chubs reminded himself to ask her to get him one of those next time. He wasn't supposed to drink pop. The dentist at Tribal Health had shown him how much sugar was in one. Truth be told, he didn't really like pop, but he guessed that one pop didn't matter much compared to all the candy bars and junk food he ate everyday.

When he'd lived with his Grandparents they had always had candy, sodas, and sweets around. It was just the way they lived. He remembered his Great Grandmother, before she died, lecturing his Grandmother about their diet. He thought it was funny at the time, seeing his sixty five year old grandma with her head down, acting like a kid being scolded by her mom, who was eighty six!

They pulled up to the large two-story white house where Auntie Ticks and her husband, Jerry, lived. The big manicured front lawn was littered with shiny bikes, balls, and toys. Auntie made good money at the hospital and Jerry worked for the City Water District. Between them, they had it pretty good. Chubs was always amazed at all the stuff his Cousin got. He'd stayed with them for a weekend after last Christmas when Auntie Rose had been in the hospital for her diabetes. Robby-boy had gotten more presents on that one day than Chubs had gotten in his whole life! Still, Robby-boy wasn't stuck up or selfish about sharing his stuff. He hadn't even gotten mad when Chubs had screwed up his Xbox. He just put it back in the box and told him he had a friend that could fix anything. Robby-boy had two, three year old twin sisters that Chubs thought were cute. He'd never had any brothers or sisters. They could be annoying at times, but when they were happy, the two older boys had fun keeping them occupied.

Chubs liked kids. He figured that when he got older he wouldn't mind being a father. He was determined to be like his Uncle Jerry; solid, dependable and affectionate. He thought the last quality was the most important of the three. A smile, a hug, or a kiss carried a lot of power to make people feel better. So many Native people seemed to be so angry all the time. They didn't show their feelings of affection as often as they did their displeasure. Chubs wanted his house, and his grown up life, to be bright and sunny and full of love. He wasn't sure if that was possible, livin' on the Rancheria, but that was his dream.

"Hey Cuz!"

The door to the house burst open and Robby-boy ran to greet them. Chubs was always a little shocked at how friendly and open Robby-boy was. He was used to the quiet and reserved way people at the Rancheria greeted each other, and Robby-boy's enthusiasm was a little disconcerting sometimes. Robby hugged his Auntie Rose and nodded to his Uncle Bud, then slapped Chubs on the back and whispered, "Man, have I got stuff to show you."

The two boys raced inside, pausing for Chubs to give Auntie Ticks a hug. Uncle Jerry opened his arms and Chubs hesitated, feeling slightly uncomfortable giving the large white-looking man a hug. He was still getting to know Jerry. Jerry was Chickasaw from Oklahoma. He wasn't enrolled but he seemed to know a great deal about every kind of Indin people and their ways. He even spoke a little bit of Chubs' people's language.

Auntie Ticks and Jerry were taking on-line classes from the Tribal Center. In the last year the Tribe had brought together all its remaining fluent speakers and enlisted their help in designing a language revitalization program. Not too many tribal members had showed much of an interest and a number of the speakers had drifted away from the program since, but a few were sticking it out. The Tribal Vice-Chair, Billy Sparks, had come back from college with a degree in Native Studies and a burning desire to bring back the language. He had a few families trying to speak it and even got the Council to rename some of the streets on the Rancheria in the language. He also convinced them to use the language at their meetings-mostly in greetings, the opening and closing prayer and in yes/no voting. He'd even spent his own money advertising for a web master to develop the Tribe's web site. Ralph Harjo, an Oklahoma Creek, had volunteered to help. Ralph was a whiz with computers and he'd convinced Billy that they could put together a tribal history and language program on-line and tie it up with the community radio station to do language and history broadcasts. It was modeled after the Choctaw program in Durant, Oklahoma. Their successful on-line language program was being utilized by Choctaws all over the world. As soon as the language program came on line, Ticks and Jerry had been regular students. Even Chubs had learned a few words from them.

Jerry greeted him in the language as they embraced and Chubs struggled to remember the answer to "How are you?" Then Chubs and Robby-boy escaped to his room and Robby slammed the door behind them. Chubs was expecting to see some new technological toy but Robby ran to the closet and flung open the door.

"Check this out, Cuz."

On the back of the door hung a brightly colored grass dancing outfit. Robby-boy fingered the bright yarn fringing proudly for a moment, then danced across the room to his stereo and flicked the power switch. A powwow drum boomed from the speakers, the steady beat filling the room. The lead singer opened, and in a moment the room was filled with a grassdance song. Robby-boy pointed to a stack of CD's by the amplifier.

"Check out all these CD's. I got Black Lodge, Northern Cree, Southern Cree, Tha Tribe, Kicking Woman Singers, Mandaree, Young Bird-even the Gathering Of Nations CD!"

Chubs pretended to be impressed, even though he hadn't heard of any of these groups except for Black Lodge and Southern Cree. Those two groups had been his Grandfather's favorites. He'd had all of their CD's and Chubs had grown up with their music. Southern Cree had been the Host Drum at the one powwow he'd been to when his Papa had been alive. It was one of his most cherished memories; he and his Grandparents in their tent at the powwow grounds, drifting off to sleep surrounded by the sound of drums and native voices. He sighed. There wasn't any drumming in his Auntie Rose's house, Uncle Bud wouldn't allow it.

"You're really into this grass dancing stuff, huh?"

"Yeah," his cousin replied. "I didn't think so much of it at first, but as I get more and more into it I'm starting to have a lot more fun. I won fifty bucks at the last powwow!"

"No way!" Chubs cried.

"Yep. I was tenth but I placed. Most powwows don't pay down that many places but this one was pretty freaking big. We went all the way to Cheyenne for it."

Chubs noticed that Robby-boy never cursed around his parents. They didn't allow it. But when he and Chubs got together, Robby-boy would let fly! Chubs had never lived around anyone that didn't curse. His mom cursed at blue streak. Even his grandmother and grandfather had cursed. Auntie Rose didn't curse much, but she said "damn", "hell" and even an occasional "s" word. With Uncle Bud, ever other word started with f and ended with k.

"Are you s'n me?" Chubs had gotten into trouble at school a number of times for saying the "s" word. The teachers and principle had called his Mom and she'd told them flat out that in her house that word was not a curse word. He'd gotten detention anyway. Finally, after two straight weeks of detention, his Grandpa had sat him down and explained that peoples had different ways of speaking and different standards of what was appropriate.

"I wasn't allowed to curse at home when I was a boy," his Papa said. "My father told me that cursing is a lazy way of talking. He said that words are important and a person should learn as many words as they can--that way people will know exactly what's being said." His grandpa smiled when he said that and leaned closer to Chubs. "I still cursed," he confided, "just not around my parents or where they'd hear about it!"

Chubs had learned to control his language after that. He appreciated his Papa's way of teaching him, especially when Chubs had grown up listening to his Grandfather's curses. He hadn't yelled, or preached, or asked something of Chubs he couldn't practice himself--he simply let Chubs know that the important thing was the word "appropriate" when dealing with other peoples' values and ideals.

"We all have to live together," his Papa would say. “No need in pissing people off or making them uncomfortable when all it takes is a little self control. My Dad used to say that the real leaders make sacrifices to step up and be better people. They do the things that bring people together--not the things that tear us apart."

Chubs' eyes teared slightly as he thought about his grandpa. He missed him a lot. He was a good man.

"Yeah, we stayed the weekend." Robby-boy continued. "We even stayed one night at a Holiday Inn."

Chubs had never been on a trip where he'd stayed in a nice hotel. Most of the trips he'd been on they'd driven straight through, or stopped and slept in the car.

"In a few months we're goin' to the Red Earth Festival in Oklahoma. Hey! Maybe you can come with us?"

"Nah, that'll be toward the end of basketball-and the playoffs."

"What if you don't make the team?"

Chubs was shocked. Even though he'd been worried enough about that to mention it to Robby-boy the last time they talked, he really hadn't thought about it.

"That'll never happen," he said confidently. But inside, his guts started to churn. What if he didn't make it? What would he do?

Robby-boy saw the look on his face and hurriedly changed the subject.

"Don't sweat it, Cuz. Let's go down and raid the fridge," Robby said, charging out the door.

Chubs was after him like a horsefly to a sweaty T-shirt.

That evening, at dinner, his Uncle Jerry spent the whole time talking about tribal politics and Native history. Uncle Bud ignored him, looking at his plate and grunting every now and then. It was hard to tell if he was agreeing or disagreeing with what Jerry, Auntie Ticks, and Auntie Rose were saying. Chubs and Robby-boy just listened. They both knew they weren't expected to chime in. Chubs was impressed by Uncle Jerry's knowledge of what he was talking about.

After dinner, Ticks and Rose went into the crafts room to continue their work on Robby's outfit and the stuff they were making for the powwow give-away. Jerry led Robby-boy and Chubs out to the garage where he was working on a hand-drum. He had the wooden circular ring made already and was measuring the dry rawhide to cut for size.

"Hey Chubs', he said, you got any interest in dancing?"

Chubs shook his head side to side.

"Nah, I'm gonna play ball."

"S'all right. Playing hoops is cool. But if you ever change your mind, I met this Omaha fancydancer that lives right here in Holman. He could teach you."

Chubs slept in a sleeping bag on the plush rug in Robby-boy's room that night. Around midnight he went into the kitchen to see if he could find something sweet to eat. The best he could find was a cinnamon Granola bar. Auntie Ticks didn't allow many sweets in their house. He returned to his bed unsatisfied. The bag was brand new and the smell was unfamiliar. Chubs still had a knot in his stomach from thinking about not making the team. He dreamed of his grandfather's smile and the knot went away.

The next day passed quickly. They all slept in late, except for Robby's mom who was on-call and had to go to the hospital. Uncle Jerry helped Auntie Rose cook a huge breakfast of sausage, eggs, corn fritters and coffee. Afterwards Robby-boy and Chubs walked down to the school to shoot hoops for an hour before Robby-boy had to start his daily workout for his next powwow competition.

“The first few times I danced my legs felt like melted rubber after, “ Robby-boy explained, as they took turns shooting and rebounding. “ I didn't realize how much energy and stamina it takes. I got a whole new respect for the dancers after that. My Dad said he talked to a couple of the older fancy dancers who gave him advice on how I could train for it. It wasn't anything special, just lots of leg work and some sprints for conditioning. Not everyone does it, but some of the guys who compete regularly do train.”

Chubs looked at him skeptically.

"Or not!" Robby-boy laughed.

They finished up with a game of horse. Robby-boy took the lead with a couple of left-handed layups but missed the third time he tried. Chubs took his time strutting out to the three point line and set up for his shot. He buried his first shot as Robby-boy's attempt clanged off the rim. Chubs carefully retraced his steps to the same spot and repeated his swish. Robby's shot again banged off the rim. After Chubs sank his third in a row, Robby whistled.

“Man, Chubs. You're deadly with that shot. Can you hit it from anywhere outside?"

Chubs shook his head ruefully.

“Nope. Wish I could. This is the spot where I usually shoot from when I need to make it.”

Robby-boy missed again and Chubs calmly sank his fourth and fifth try in a row. Robby missed every time and lost the game.

Robby-boy looked at his watch, “I think it's time we headed back.”

“You just don't want to get your bee-hind whipped again,” Chubs laughed.

“You're right!,” Robby-boy grinned. “Plus, it's not a whole lot of fun shooting behind a machine from one spot on the court.”

Chubs was secretly proud. There weren't a lot of things he was good at, and his cousin was always getting awards for something. His room walls were covered with medals, ribbons, plaques and papers from school, or little league, or youth football. Chubs walls were bare except for one ragged sheet of colored paper from the third grade proclaiming that he had won Mrs Akins' class spelling bee.

He spent the rest of the afternoon with Robby-boy's Xbox as Robby practiced; drums booming from the living room stereo. They had a light dinner of fried chicken and potato salad, then started the drive home. Chubs went straight to bed trying to not think about the team posting.

Monday introduced itself with thunder and lightning. Chubs' Uncle Bud had had a few too many beers the night before and didn't wake up in time to take him to school, so Chubs pulled on his torn windbreaker and ran most of the way there, scarfing down a Payday as he ran. The rain let up a little during the last mile but his shirt and lower pant legs were soaked through and he was shivering a little as he sat in his chair in English class. He felt exhausted and couldn't seem to get enough water. His science teacher, Mr. Ryan, let him go get a drink three times in the first half hour of class, then told him he'd have to wait. Chubs felt like he was dying of thirst and his vision was blurry. He could barely make out the words in his book. He struggled to keep awake, thinking of cold orange soda. His clothes were almost dried out by the mid-morning break and his fatigue passed after he ate his lunch. His excitement increased as the end of school approached. The bell rang and Chubs was out of his seat like a jackrabbit scooting out from underneath a hawk's shadow. He hurried to his locker, weaving his way through the crowd of students. Tossing his books inside his blue WalMart sports bag, he turned and sprinted toward the gym.

Despite his efforts to be one of the first, there was already a large group of boys staking out the posting board just inside the gym next to the Wildcat logo painted on the wall. The board was empty.

Chubs felt someone grab his elbow.

" 'Sup, Cuz?"

Freddy's big smile took the edge off Chubs' nervousness.

" 'Sup," he replied.

Freddy sighed.

"They always make everybody wait. My brother said when he was here they even postponed it for another day." Freddy saw the look of panic cross Chubs' face and laughed, "Its okay, man. Don't sweat it. Deep breaths."

Chubs looked at him sideways. That was a phrase his grandpa had said to him a lot. Somehow though, when Freddy said it, it didn't have the same calming effect. He took a couple deep breaths even so, and relaxed a little.

The door to the Coaches' office opened and all eyes turned that direction. The large form of Coach Wilson emerged and slowly strolled toward the crowd of nervous young men. A single sheet of paper hung from his thumb and index finger, almost as if he was deliberately avoiding contact with it.

Chubs realized that this must be one of the most stressful and difficult times for a coach. Having to cut kids from the team, ending their dream of playing ball, must be a pretty heavy responsibility he thought. He knew that few players cut from the eighth grade team ever made it in high school. He'd heard the story of Michael Jordan being cut in high school, which was pretty inspiring considering his legendary status, but Chubs imagined that those kinds of exceptions were few and far between.

His breath quickened and he even broke into a nervous sweat as the boys made a lane for the Coach to approach the board. Coach Wilson didn't say a word until after the list was posted. Then he turned slowly around and gravely surveyed the group, his large body obscuring the single white sheet of paper.

"I know all of you wanted to make this team. The staff and I wanted to keep as many as possible. If you're one of those that didn't make it, I'm sorry but maybe it's meant for you to try and find something else. I know that won't help how you feel much, but it's the best I can do. Those of you that did make it, take a look around at those who didn't. I hope you appreciate the opportunity and the responsibility that comes with making the team. Good luck to all of you."

The Coach strode back to his office as the sea of boys closed around the list. It was unusually quiet.

A few of the boys cheered as others pushed their way out, their faces set and grim as they digested the fact that they hadn't made it. Chubs was suddenly afraid to look at the list. He stood back around the outside, delaying the inevitable. Freddy returned from the board with a broad grin on his face. Chubs tried to force a smile, knowing that his Cousin had made the team.

"Don't look so grim, Cuz. You made it!"

Chubs felt a lump in his throat as he looked closely at Freddy to try and determine whether he was joking. Inside he knew that he wasn't and his heart beat faster. Freddy wasn't like that. Some of the other boys might try and pull that, but not Freddy. He edged his way through the rapidly thinning crowd and stood in front of the list. He experienced another moment of insecurity when he didn't immediately see his name, then he saw it. He was number fifteen on the list. The last one.

Chubs turned around and looked up at the new scoreboard. He took a few steps to clear himself from the circle and looked around the gym. He'd been playing here for a number of years already, since the fourth grade PeeWee Leagues. But now it looked different somehow. He noticed things he hadn't really seen before. The school colors painted on the wall suddenly took on a greater meaning for him. He was a Wildcat!

It was another week until the first practice and Chubs was walking on air. His Auntie Rose had congratulated him with a pan of brownies. His Uncle gave him a half-hearted high five. Coach Wilson made sure all the teachers got a copy of the list. Each teacher scheduled meetings with the players to discuss their progress and grades. Chubs had a C-minus in math, and another one in history. One D would disqualify him from the program, so he went to the meetings and paid attention to what his teachers told him. He wasn't too fond of his English and Art teacher, Mrs. Kramer. She always seemed to make it a point to call on him when he didn't know the answer. At times he thought maybe she was prejudiced against him for being Native. On the first day of class, when all the Natives had staked out their seats in the back, she had immediately rearranged the seating and made all of them sit in the front row. He was dreading the meeting with her, but was surprised when she was actually nice to him and offered to tutor him a few minutes every morning. His History and P.E. teacher, Mr. Howard, was pretty cool. The only problem with his class was how much your grade depended on making sure you got your homework turned in and how you did on the regular Friday quizzes. Chubs almost always did his homework, the problem was in remembering to take it back to school. Invariably, he would start for school then be forced to run back home or ask his Aunt or Uncle to turn around and go back so he could get it. After the first month of school they refused to do that anymore and he had served a number of detentions for not having it in on time, not to mention the way the missing assignments drug his grade through the mud. The Friday quizzes were another matter. Chubs studied on Thursday nights from the time he finished eating until the time he went to sleep but it never seemed to help. It was the first time in his eight years of school that he actually spent all evening studying.

At his mom's and his grandparents house they'd pretty much left him on his own when it came to school. He'd never received any help with schoolwork at home, from any of his relatives. Not that he'd asked for it either. He knew that some of his white friends parents regularly worked with them on their schoolwork, and even a few of the Native kids had mentioned how their parents or grandparents helped them. His grandmother had always been working at her crafts while his grandpa worked outside in his tin-roofed shed every night, but his mom and his Auntie and Uncle mostly just watched TV. He'd talked to Mr. Howard about it and he had suggested that Chubs go to a special program at lunch time that helped students learn how to study for tests. Chubs hadn't gone yet, he was too attached to eating a leisurely lunch and enjoying his food, but now he thought he probably needed to go and see if it would help.

The novelty of making the team wore off after the first few practices. This wasn't youth basketball anymore. The coaches were serious about preparing them for high school. The Wildcat basketball program was designed to offer a seamless transition to the next level. The Panthers High School teams all played aggressive man-to-man defense and depended on a high level of conditioning to run and push other teams to their physical limits. Coach Wilson's program was the first step toward conditioning the players to understand the system and commit to the intense level of practice needed to be successful at that kind of game.

The Wildcat players barely touched a basketball the first half of the week. The coaches had them running side-to-sides, shuffle drills, start-and-stops, laps, as well as full court and half court sprints. On Wednesday, Chubs was so sore he had trouble getting out of bed. All day he stumbled around in pain, grimacing and yelping. Of course, he wasn't alone, all of the players were suffering. By lunchtime they were making jokes about it.

"Are you sure maybe we didn't go out for track?" Freddy asked ruefully. "My legs hurt so bad I think my great-grandpa could outrun me right now.!"

On Thursday they started a fundamentals review, starting with ball-handling, dribbling and passing. They did full and half court weaves, bounce passes, inside and outside one-hand push passes, lobs, hail-mary's, handoffs, even behind-the-backs. For dribbling they worked on keeping it low, practicing cross-overs, start-n-stops, hesitations, runaways, behind-the-backs, between the legs, and a lot of weak-hand work. Finally, at the end of practice, they spent fifteen minutes shooting the ball (from a square stance) at the base-line wall, getting the ball from the floor to their grip; the release, hand flip, and follow-through.

The whistle blew and all the players headed for the locker room until Coach Wilson shouted, "Okay, men. You know that's not how Wildcats end their practices. We've got a little drill called "suicides" to do yet."

All the players groaned out loud. They'd heard of the dreaded "suicides" from former players.

Coach Wilson pointed at the base line.

"Everyone get a ball. We do it a little differently here, but we start there," he said quietly. "On the whistle, put your ball down and run to the near free throw line and back. Then to half court and back. Then to the opposite free throw line and back. Then to the opposite base-line and back. When your group is finished, pick up the ball and do crossovers until the next whistle. First three suicides are for everybody. After that, the first three players to finish can sit. We run until the last three finish. Then we stand together and put our hands in. This is the way we end practice every night except before a game. Ready?"

His whistle shrieked.

Fifteen minutes later, Chubs and two other of the heavier boys were the last to finish.

"That was a good effort, boys. Keep trying. We need everybody in top shape."

Chubs was still breathing heavily when they put their hands in together and yelled, "Wildcats Rule!"

When he got home, Chubs wasn't hungry and fell into bed exhausted. He woke up four or five times that night to go to the bathroom and drank almost half a gallon of water. He dreamed he was walking in a desert, without water. Thunderclouds hung over the blue mountains in the distance.

Thanksgiving came just as they were starting to get into shape. The Coaches were obviously unhappy with the holiday break but they made up for it by running everyone extra hard.

Chubs' Auntie Rose had convinced all their relatives to come to their house for dinner and she'd spent almost all her foodstamps buying the food. Chubs wondered why she did that when the pantry was filled with commods from the Tribal Center. He started to ask her about it but she cut him off, saying she would be embarrassed to serve her relatives commodities at Thanksgiving.

"We eat enough of those during regular times", she said shortly.

Robby-boy and his family were the first to arrive. It was pouring rain outside so Chubs and Robby spent the first hours in his room with Robby-boy showing off his I-Pod.

"I didn't do very well at the last powwow." Robby complained. "The judges thought I had a hard time stayin' with the drum. Truth is, I did. So my dad bought me this so I could listen to drumming all day at school. I don't know if it'll help or not."

At noon the rain broke enough for them to shoot baskets at the old hoop by the shed. Around two everybody started showing up and the gravel driveway filled up with cars and trucks so they were unable to shoot anymore. They sat in the living room, bored to death, listening to the adults argue and yell and laugh. The little kids cried and fought underneath everyone's feet--all except for his Cousin Peetee.

Cousin Peetee had Down's syndrome. Chubs' Auntie Rose said it was because Peetee's Mom, Michela, drank so much when she was pregnant. His Uncle had referred to Peetee as "the mongoloid" until Auntie Rose gave him "the look." Anytime Auntie Rose gave him "the look", his Uncle knew it was time to either change his tune or shut-up altogether. Cousin Peetee was perpetually happy and smiled all the time, no matter what went on around him. Chubs had only seen him cry once. Peetee ran around the packed living room with a big grin on his face as all the other kids whined and cried. Chubs gestured to him with open hands and Peetee ran over to sit in his lap--snuggling in. Robby-boy sat with a distant glazed look on his face. Chubs noticed his toes tapping and realized he was listening to his IPod, wishing for a moment that he had one to escape into. Eventually dinner was ready and Uncle Terry gathered everybody together for the prayer. With his grandma and grandpa gone, there weren't any real Elders to speak in the old language, so Terry said a few halting words in Chickasaw and Auntie Ticks repeated a short prayer in their language.

Chubs remembered Thanksgivings at his Grandparents house. His Papa would read a long prayer he'd picked up from Six Nations anytime they got together. The adults always sighed when they saw him sit down, put on his glasses, and shuffle the seemingly endless sheets of paper that comprised the Prayer of Gratitude. Yet, when it was over, the atmosphere in the room was always more peaceful, with arguments forgotten and everyone more appreciative of the meal. Chubs was amazed at how the traditions his Grandpa forced on the family made them all feel better. It was hard since they had gone on. The family seemed to lack direction and no one except Uncle Terry had stepped forward. Unfortunately, Uncle Terry wasn't really one of them, and his influence and direction wasn't given much respect.

The next few hours were filled with children spilling their plates or drinks on the floor while the adults tried to ignore them, filling their plates again and again. Eventually most of the adults gathered outside around the fire pit in back of the shed, smoking and drinking. Auntie Ticks and Auntie Rose stayed in the trailer with the kids. Uncle Terry and Robby-boy stood beside Chubs until the third round of beers were passed around, then they went inside too. Chubs stayed out long enough after that to see a few of the teenagers drift off to smoke weed. They invited him but he turned them down. He had too many issues to take on another. Most of the families had gone home already so the driveway had cleared out enough for him to take a couple of shots in the dark from his favorite spot. He missed badly both times and let the ball roll away into the bushes in disgust. Chubs decided he wanted another piece of pie. He went in just in time to say goodbye to Robby-boy and his Auntie and Uncle. After they left, he went to his room feeling over-stuffed and depressed. Another holiday on the Rez, Chubs thought. At least they weren't too poor to afford food these days. What depressed him was that these were his first holidays without his Grandparents. He fell into bed with his clothes on, too tired and upset to care.

The next few weeks flew by. Chubs never imagined that there was so much to learn about basketball. He had thought of the game as "run, dribble, and shoot". The Wildcats spent an entire practice just learning how to block out for a rebound. There was all kinds of other technical stuff to learn. They even had a couple of blackboard classroom sessions to discuss rules and strategy. Chubs was having a hard time staying current in his schoolwork. Many nights he was so tired after practice he went right to bed after eating. A couple of nights he missed dinner completely, which upset his Auntie.

After the second time, she stopped him as he came in after school.

"What's going on? I worry about you when you don't eat. You're not using anything, are you?"

"No, Auntie. I'm still a drug-free Native," he joked.

His Auntie Rose didn't smile.

"Don't joke about that. Too many of us have problems. I worry about you."

"Don't worry, Auntie. I've seen how it works and I'm not interested in that shi..." he stopped himself, and then finished, "stuff."

She smiled at him.

"I'm proud of you. Your grandparents would be proud. Even your mom, I think."

Chubs nodded.

"I am worried about my grades, though. If I get a 'D', I'll be off the team."

"Then you better not get a 'D'," Rose replied, turning her attention back to "Dancing With The Stars."

Chubs stood for a moment, watching the judges rip one of the contestants, then drug himself to his room to begin studying for a history quiz. He was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with him. He was so tired all the time! It was starting to affect him at practice. He was always the last one now in the running drills and he'd noticed Coach Wilson staring at him more than once as he struggled to finish. He'd even lost ten pounds but it hadn't seemed to make a difference. He also was embarrassed at how often he needed to go to the bathroom every day. He tried to read a chapter for his next quiz but fell asleep with the book open in his lap.

The next day the Wildcats were scheduled to play their first practice game. Chubs woke up with butterflies in his stomach to go with an uncontrollable thirst. He stood in the cold kitchen in his shorts drinking cup after cup of water, worrying.

He hadn't been real quick to grasp the intricacies of man-to-man defense and he still had the problem of crowding his man. His body was just too big and slow to keep up with the shuffle side-to-side the coach taught them to use. He had a terrible habit of reaching in and trying to steal the ball all the time, something he'd picked up playing youth and street basketball. Some of his coaches in the youth league had tried to get him to stop but Chubs had ignored their criticism. Now he wished that he had paid more attention. His defense was way behind the curve compared to most of the other players. He sighed and turned his attention to the supposed checks and balances of the American governmental process. His eighth grade Government Exam was the most important test he would take this year. If he didn't pass it, he'd have to go to summer school to graduate.

His Uncle Bud had laughed when he found out that Chubs was studying for the government test.

"They gave us our tribal organization models in 1927, trying to pretend they were giving us democracy while setting us up for corruption and greed so they could take our resources and keep us poor." He snorted. "We didn't get any of those famous checks and balances. I'm not convinced that it's done a whole lot of good for the U.S. either. Look how Bush was able to do just about whatever he wanted to as Prez. The checks and balances only seem to work in their favor--big surprise!"

Chubs never knew where his Uncle would stand on something until he brought it up. Most of the time he just criticized his own people, then every now and then he'd sound like Chubs' Papa or Uncle Terry, Red Power to the core!

Chubs family celebrated Earth Renewal on the December Solstice. His Uncle gave Chubs a small hand-drum he'd received as a boy and his Auntie gave him a gift certificate for a free CD from the local music store. Chubs didn't have any money to buy gifts so he offered to do the dishes for his Aunt Rose for a month and helped his Uncle pull and rebuild the truck transmission over the holidays. Christmas came and went uneventfully, except that Robby-boy gave his IPod Shuffle to Chubs when Robby got a Touch for the holidays. Chubs didn't have a computer so Robby promised that the next time he came to the city they'd spend the whole time loading it up with Chubs' favorite music.

With all the tournament practice games behind them, Chubs was getting more and more discouraged. He'd only played a few minutes in each game and he hadn't done very well. His defense sucked and he'd missed every shot he'd taken. The Coach had laid down the law about shooting from the three point line at this point in the season, so he hadn't been able to show his only weapon. His general support game wasn't too bad but he knew if he didn't improve a lot, he'd never get any playing time when the real season started.

The first week back to school after the holidays was a rough one for Chubs. Not only was the return to regular practices difficult physically, but Chubs had also received two on-probation notices for his grades. Because he couldn't attend after-school tutoring due to his practice schedule, he was forced to sign-up for the lunchtime tutoring program. His tutor turned out to be a pretty blue-eyed sophomore JV high school cheerleader, Chrissy Fields, who was getting extra credits for volunteering for the tutoring program. It was very embarrassing for Chubs to sit close beside the beautiful older blonde girl, trying to pretend that he was soaking up the information she provided in her rapid-fire way of speaking. The proximity of her perfume made him uneasy, not to mention the jokes he had to endure once the word got around who his tutor was. He hadn't been aware that her father was a county supervisor and that she was one of the most popular girls in her class.

After the second session, Chrissy looked at him intently for a moment and said, "You're not getting much of this are you Jesse?"

Chubs wasn't used to someone using his real name. That made him even more uncomfortable. He shook his head negatively.

"Well, what can I do to help?"

"Maybe go a little slower, and show me more examples?"

"I can do that."

After that, Chubs started making progress. Just that short conversation seemed to have broken down the barriers between them and Chubs felt much more comfortable with her than before. He even started getting used to someone, besides Coach Wilson, calling him Jesse. He was more focused and attentive, though he had to admit that the proximity of her shapely form and self-assured manner still made him uncomfortable. Chrissy slowed down her verbal assault and took a lot more time to "show" him the way to study, making an effort to create solid visual examples for him to understand. They had a number of conversations about the differences between his culture and hers and she seemed genuinely interested in his opinions without being pushy the way some non-Natives were. She didn't pry into his personal life and appeared not to have a lot of preconceived stereotypical views about Indians. Their lives were so dissimilar, Chubs was fascinated at how openly she discussed her personal problems with him, a junior high Native boy. She was so trusting, he wondered just how naive she really was! She was smart, white, athletic, popular, well-to-do, and on a college track. It was hard to imagine her with problems, but after she laid them out Chubs realized that he'd had his own stereotypes of what white kids were like. He began looking forward to their time together.

The next session they spent brainstorming what he could do for his eighth grade project. Chubs thought maybe he'd do it on the Grass Dance. He figured he could get a lot of info from his Cousin and Uncle and maybe even borrow Robby-boy's outfit. It would be an easy way to not have to do too much work and he doubted the teachers knew a whole lot about the subject. The project was crucial to his grade but he didn't want to put much time in on it. Chrissy thought it was a good idea too and showed him how to outline his proposal for his teacher's approval.

As she was getting up to leave, she surprised him by asking, "Are you going to the homecoming game this Friday nite?"

"Uh, no," he stammered, "We've got a game that afternoon."

"Well, if you decide to go, I'll see you there," she said with a smile.

Chubs watched her walk out of the room and sighed deeply. Too bad she wasn't Native, he thought. She was really, really good-looking, but getting together with a girl like that was trouble with a big T. He could only imagine what his Uncle Bud would say if he thought Chubs was hanging with a non-Native girl, even though half the people on the Rancheria were married to non-Indins. There was still a negative stigma attached to relationships outside of the immediate circle of the Tribe. It was so powerful that some of the older Native kids were having relationships with their own relatives rather than risk the criticism they'd face for involving themselves with outsiders. His grandfather and grandmother had sat Chubs down when he was ready for his Going-to-the-Mountain and talked seriously to him about their belief that incest and inappropriate relationships with relatives was not only wrong, but damaging to the integrity of the people. After that, his eyes had been opened to how much of that kind of activity was going on around him. His grandfather had been roundly criticized, behind his back, for bringing up the problem openly in a tribal meeting. No one wanted to talk about it. It was one of those problems everyone wanted to go away, but no one wanted to talk about how to make that happen.

Chubs thought about Chrissy again. He couldn't imagine that she would be interested in him and it was even harder for him to imagine her father and mother reacting positively to her dating a Rez-boy. Besides, to her, he was probably still a kid. Yeah, he was mature for his age, almost six feet tall and well over two hundred pounds. He had already started shaving too, but not being in high school put him in the minor leagues. Chubs shook his head in wonder, what was he thinking?

He went to practice with his tutor still on his mind. Coach Wilson ran them quickly through their warm-ups and then called them in for an impromptu meeting.

"How many of you are planning to attend the homecoming?" he asked.

A few players raised their hands. Chubs didn't.

"Well, I want as many of you to go as can make it. I want you to see how our Panthers play man defense. Also we need somebody to shoot in the fourteen-and-under three point contest. Any volunteers?"

"Chubs can do it, " Freddy quipped. "He could even win it!"

Coach Wilson looked at Chubs skeptically.

"How about it, son? I need to let them know tonight if you want to do it."

Chubs scowled at his cousin, but nodded.

"Great!", said the Coach. "Also, we got a potluck after the game. Everybody has to bring something. OK?" He peered around the circle intently. "Now that that's out of the way," he clapped his hands together loudly, "let's get back to practice."

Chubs ran out onto the court and took his place for the shuffle drills. He was pretty upset with his cousin for volunteering him for the contest but as he thought about it, his anger subsided. Now he had a reason to go and Chrissy would be there….

A basketball bounced off his shoulder as the Assistant Coach, Ray Innes, yelled at him. "Wake up, Big Tree! On the whistle now! Right, left, forward, back, left, right."

Chubs shuffled according to the coach's directions, trying to force himself to pay attention, but in one corner of his mind he was thinking of a girl.

Chubs' Uncle Bud didn't show up to pick him up after practice as planned so Chubs caught a ride home with Freddy and his mom. His Uncle's truck wasn't there when they pulled into the gravel driveway, so he was a little surprised to open the door and find his Auntie sitting on the couch, in the dark, with the TV off.

He sat his bag down by the door, and squinted in the darkness, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the gloom. His Auntie had her foot in a big plastic bowl of water and an Epson Salt box sat beside the bowl. Her head was down and he thought she might be asleep. He softly walked over to the couch as she raised her head. Chubs was shocked to see that one of her eyes was blackened and her cheekbone was cut and bruised. There was deep cut near her hairline that was seeping blood in a single stream beside her ear. She'd been crying and her cheeks were streaked. He sat down beside her gently and gathered her hands in his.

"What happened, Auntie," he asked, knowing the answer before she replied.

"I had a doctor's appointment this morning. Your Uncle started drinking when he got up and was pretty out of it by the time we needed to go. I tried to call Betty Rhoades over at Tribal Health to see if they could come pick me up but Bud got mad. He was goin' on about how I always treat him like a cripple and look down on him 'cause he can't be anything but a wheelchair man. I told him that that wasn't the reason I didn't want to ride with him, that he was drunk and he should just stay home and watch TV. That just made him madder. He hit me a couple of times and then announced he was going out to start the truck. He fell out of his chair trying to get down the steps and when I went to help him up he hit me again. My foot got caught underneath the chair and he ignored me telling him I was caught, and pulled himself back into the chair with the wheel on top of my foot. It crushed my big toe pretty good. When I screamed he smacked me again and then rolled himself over to the truck and drove away. I crawled back in the house and passed out on the floor. Maybe I got a concussion, I don't know. He just wouldn't wait for me."

"How long were you unconscious?"

"A few hours, I guess."

"Auntie, it's almost eight o'clock! Why didn't you call someone to take you to the doctor?"

"Oh, I thought your Uncle would be back by now. I"ve been soaking my toe."

Chubs switched on the light and knelt down on the floor beside the couch. He carefully lifted her foot from the bowl and winced when he saw her toe. It was an ugly reddish purple and terribly swollen. With her diabetes, he knew her injuries could be life-threatening.

"Have you eaten today?" he asked.

"I had a piece of toast and juice when I got up."

Her voice was weak. Chubs knew he had to get her some help quick. He called the Tribal Center, but as he expected, no one answered. He thought of calling 911, but knew that they would take forever. The authorities didn't like coming out to the Rancheria. They'd made that very clear with their lengthy response times. Chubs decided to call Freddy's mom, Freda.

Freda listened for a moment, then said, "I'll be right over."

Within a half hour they were in the emergency room. A tall, thin black nurse with high cheekbones and a razor sharp nose helped his Auntie into one of the small temporary examination rooms. His Aunt Rose immediately fell asleep beneath the heated blanket another nurse brought for her as Chubs sat in the chair next to her bed. After about an hours wait, a short white man with mussed hair and thick glasses peeked his head around the curtain and joked feebly, "Anybody home?" His smile disappeared when Rose raised her face to see him. Both her eyes were almost swollen shut.

He clucked disapprovingly.

"I'm Doctor Gentry. Let's take a look at these bruises." He gingerly felt her cheekbones, and shone his light in her eyes. "I don't think anything is broken but your eyes may swell shut and the bruises are going to be pretty bad." He checked her chart. "Probably a concussion too. How long have you had diabetes?"

Chubs interrupted. "What about her toe?"

The short white man peered again at the chart. "Let's have a look."

One look and Chubs could tell the situation had changed. The doctor turned on his heel and stepped out of the room, calling to a nurse.

“I need this patient admitted. Stat." He turned to Chubs. “We'll take care of her.”

The man removed his glasses to rub his eyes and when he replaced them he had a slightly embarrassed look on his face. “Unfortunately, in situations like this where obvious abuse has taken place, we have to call the authorities. There are two Sheriff’s deputies here that would like to talk to you.”

Rose shook her head. “No. I got nothin’ to say to them.”

Chubs, raised his hands, palms up. “Sorry,” was all he said.

Doctor Gentry shrugged. “That’s up to you. But the next time you might not be able to talk. The next time you might be dead.”

He turned on his heal and left. The Deputies came in but left in frustration when neither Chubs or Rose would talk to them.

The Native people of Kensington didn’t talk to cops. There was too much racism still rampant in the area and the cops always seemed to be antagonistic toward the Native people. Chubs hoped that things would change. He didn’t want his Uncle to be allowed to do this again, but he knew there wasn’t anyone that would speak up about it. His Papa had told him that in the old days, behavior like that wouldn’t have been tolerated. His Uncle would have been given a choice or an ultimatum. The leaders would have seen to it. Now it was up to the families and Auntie Rose didn’t have anyone except her sister, Auntie Ticks, and her husband, Uncle Jerry.

Chubs waited until they brought in the gurney to transfer his Auntie to her room before he kissed her on the cheek and told her he’d see her soon. Then he hurried to a pay phone and called Auntie Ticks. She immediately called Uncle Jerry to one of their other phones so he could listen to Chubs tell what had happened. Jerry wondered out loud why they hadn’t called the cops. Auntie Ticks tried to explain, but Jerry wouldn’t hear it.

“I don’t care if Bud is in a wheelchair, honey. It’s not right. I’ll drive up there tonight!”

Chubs interrupted. “Please don’t do that Uncle. Let me go home first. If he’s there, I’ll talk to him.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea, Chubs? After all, you’re only fourteen. He might come home loaded again.”

Chubs sighed, then said, “Don’t worry about it, Uncle. I got it covered. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Rez life was always dangerous, he thought. That was the nature of a place filled to overflowing with a hundred years of captivity, frustration, tragedy, guilt and sorrow. After what had happened to their peoples, no one felt safe, even generations after the fact. If their strongest leaders; their most powerful healers and warriors and visionaries had been unable to stop the carnage, how could anyone ever feel safe again? That feeling of insecurity and doubt had been passed on from generation to generation. His Papa had talked about these kinds of things all the time; where the people had come from and where they were going. Chubs wished he’d paid more attention to what his Papa had said. More guilt, he thought. Would it ever end? Could they ever heal and still be who they were?

Chubs was surprised to see Freda in the lobby. She had waited three hours to give them a ride home. They didn’t speak at all on the way back to the trailer. Uncle Bud’s truck still wasn’t there. She got out of the car and gave Chubs a hug before he went inside.

“Want me to cook you somethin’ to eat?”

“Naw, I’ll make something.”

“Sure you don’t wanna stay at our place tonight?”

“I’ll be OK here.”

“Well, if there’s trouble you call!” Freda gave him a stern look. “Promise!”

“I promise.”

Chubs slowly climbed the steps and went inside. It was cold. He turned on all the lights and made a fire in the woodstove. He turned on the TV and sat on the couch; watching without seeing. One of those cooking shows was on with some famous chef. Chubs watched him prepare a marinate for chicken, along with some other dishes. He ate a Mounds bar and two Snickers and fell asleep on the couch.

His Uncle still hadn’t come home the next morning. The fire had gone out and Chubs dressed quickly for school and left. By the time he got to school he was starving. The vision of the chicken sitting in the marinade the night before was stuck in his mind. In fact, he thought about it all day. After practice, he ran home and turned on the TV. His Uncle was still gone. He called the hospital and was told his Auntie was being watched carefully for complications and she would be there at least a few more days. The phone rang and another Sheriff’s Deputy pressed Chubs for information, even making a veiled threat about the repercussions of not cooperating with an investigation. Chubs wasn’t stupid, he knew he didn’t have to say anything. He hung up on the investigator and turned up the volume. The same cooking show was on, but this time the chef was making an apple dessert. Chubs watched, fascinated. He’d never watched one of these shows. He made himself some macaroni and cheese with a bologna sandwich and sat down to watch some more. Despite having a quiz the following day, he fell asleep having watched five hours of cooking programs in a row. The more he watched, the more he wanted to watch. On one of them, the chef prepared a simple gourmet French toast recipe. Chubs found himself taking notes.

When he awoke he was still in his school clothes from the night before. He showered, changed, and went into the kitchen to began preparing french toast from the directions he’d written down the night before. He didn’t have any vanilla and found just a tiny bit of dried cinnamon in a container. He used the last egg from the carton and two pieces of semi-stale white bread. He didn’t have real syrup but he mixed some commodity corn syrup with some maple flavoring he found under the cupboard and decided that he actually liked the result. Sitting down to breakfast was rewarding in a way he hadn’t expected. After breakfast he made a list of groceries and raided his Auntie’s secret cash stash for twenty-five dollars. She had to keep it hidden from Bud or he’d spend it right away on alcohol. Chubs wondered where his Uncle had gone, then got an idea and called the County Jail After a five minute wait, he found out that his Uncle had been booked two nights previously (the night his Auntie was admitted to the hospital), for being “drunk in public” and “intent to cause great bodily harm to a law enforcement officer”. According to the booking officer, who laughed when he said it, Uncle Bud had tried to run over a deputy with his wheel chair. Chubs hung up thinking that by the time the local courts were finished with him he’d probably get a heavy sentence for assault with a deadly weapon. Somehow, despite his realization that the charges would be overblown and the penalties harsher than those given out to non-Natives for even more serious crimes, Chubs didn’t feel the least bit sorry for his Uncle. His Auntie Rose had her problems, everybody did. But no one deserved to be beaten up.

Chubs turned his attention to the kitchen and cleaned up his dishes and cooking utensils before he left for school. He was already planning what he would make for dinner.

Chubs called the hospital at lunch time to talk to Auntie Rose but the nurse said she was sleeping. Her condition had taken a turn for the worse. Her diabetes was causing complications in the healing process for her foot. Chubs waited almost five minutes for a doctor to get on the phone to tell him she'd probably be there at least another week at least. He hung up feeling depressed.

Auntie Ticks and Jerry had invited him to stay with them in the city but Chubs decided that he couldn't miss school and basketball. They weren't too happy with him staying by himself in the trailer, but Jerry had driven up to make sure the rent and utilities were paid for the next month and left two hundred dollars for food.

"You make sure that's what you spend it on, yeah?" Jerry said, stepping in close to give him a quick hug. Chubs wasn't used to being hugged. Since his grandparents had passed, no one had given him any physical affection and it was a strange feeling to be embraced by a grown man. His Auntie and Uncle weren't the hugging kind. It made him feel uncomfortable, but left him with a feeling of wanting more.

It was obvious that his Uncle Bud was going to spend some time at the County Jail. No one had the money or the will to bail him out after what he'd done to Auntie Rose. Chubs left the TV on most of the time so he wouldn't feel so alone. The Food Channel became his companion. He'd even rummaged around in the box of stuff his Mom had left at his grandparents before she'd taken off. In the bottom of the box, he found what he was looking for.

It was one of his first and clearest memories of being with her. He was still a little kid and they were living alone in a one room modular on the Rancheria. The roof leaked and the woodstove smoked the house up so much they had to leave the front door open, even in the dead of winter. His dad had left during the summer and his mom had gone downhill after that. She started cranking heavy--eventually losing her job and getting arrested. He remembered that she'd been ordered to participate in a court-imposed rehab program over Thanksgiving and Christmas, and that was the first time he stayed with his grandparents. She'd picked him up the day before New Year. When they got home she set him on the couch and brought out an unopened Christmas present one of the nurses had given her as she left the hospital. She'd made a point of telling Chubs that she hadn't gotten a Christmas present since she'd become an adult. He could still see her sitting at the table with her hands folded in her lap, just looking at the bright green wrapping paper covered with small red Santas. She sat for a long time without opening it. Finally, she gingerly tore open one corner to peer inside. It was a new edition of the Betty Crocker Cookbook. In his mind, Chubs could still hear the shrill sound of her laughter as she realized what it was. She'd tossed the book in the corner without even looking at it, but had carefully folded the wrapping paper and placed it in her top dresser drawer, where she kept her few, most-prized possessions.

Chubs gingerly held the cookbook in his hands. It had gotten wet somewhere and the cover was stained. The first few pages were stuck together and he carefully separated them before settling down to read some of the recipes. Before long, he was in the kitchen scrubbing everything down. He rearranged the pots, pans, and utensils, looking for measuring cups and spoons. He found one half-cup measuring cup, and a half-melted plastic tablespoon. Then he sat down at the kitchen spool again to make a list of what he needed. He figured his Uncle wouldn't be mad at him spending twenty dollars on cooking hardware. He planned to go out Saturday morning and shop. But first he needed to find a recipe he could make for the pot luck. Hooray for Betty Crocker, with her clean white apron and her bright, hopeful, never-had-a-bad-thing-happen-in-her-life, 1950's smile!

Chubs squirmed uncomfortably on the bench as the second half of the game wore on. Once again, the closeness of the score ensured he probably wouldn't get any playing time. The Wildcats had only lost two games this season and the coaches were beginning to smell a league championship. Freddy was dribbling down the sideline near the bench with his hand in the air, calling the offensive play.

"Get em, Cuz, " Chubs yelled.

The opposing team was tall and slow but played a tight zone defense that the Wildcats had only been able to penetrate occasionally. Fortunately, the Cardinals offense was only shooting about twenty percent from the floor so the game pretty much belonged to the Wildcats. They were ten points up with four minutes to go when Coach Wilson surprised everyone by calling time out.

"Second team in!" he yelled.

The second team players, Chubs included, stood up in shock, clumsily stripping off their warm-ups. They crowded around the Coach to get last minute instructions.

Coach Wilson's eyes twinkled humorously.

"Didn't expect this, huh?" He looked around at the shocked expressions. "This is your opportunity to show us what you can do in a pressure situation. You're either gonna win or lose this game. No one's coming out 'til it's over. Got that?"

Chubs nodded with the rest of the nervous second team players. The horn sounded and they ran out onto the court. He found his man immediately, glad to be starting on defense. The Cardinal boy he was guarding was a couple inches taller but Chubs outweighed him by at least sixty pounds. He knew that would make him slower and he would have to anticipate the kid's moves. His man set up at the right side of the free throw line, top of the key. The Cardinals inbounded the ball and Chubs man spread his feet and stepped backward roughly, posting up hard. Chubs fought to keep his feet set and not give up his position. His player, number 15, clapped his hands together loudly, calling for the ball. The guard with the ball surveyed his options and dumped the ball inside to number 15. Chubs stepped back and put his hand in the middle of the boys back, trying to sense which way he would move. He berated himself for not having watched the game closer so he'd have an idea which direction the player favored in his moves. Number 15 made a quick drop step with his left foot, jerking his shoulder and the ball toward the middle of the key. Chubs reacted instinctively, shuffling to his left. Unfortunately, the move was just a fake, and as soon as Chubs committed left the boy put the ball on the floor with a left-handed dribble, drop-stepped quickly with his right foot, sealing Chubs away from the ball with his right shoulder, elbow and arm--then drove powerfully toward the basket and scored. Chubs hung his head in disgust and embarrassment as he ran down the court to his left side forward position. He heard Freddy yell from the sideline.

"Don't sweat it, Cuz! You can do it."

Chubs pulled himself together and the next four minutes flew by. He was able to stop number 15 from scoring again although he did get called for a reach with a minute left. Fortunately, his man wasn't a good free throw shooter and Chubs was able to come away with the rebound to make up for his mistake. His only chance to shoot resulted in a ball that caromed off the backboard without even touching the rim and bounced out of bounds before anyone could touch it. At that point though, the other team was six points down with less than a half a minute to go and no one noticed. The Cards hurriedly brought the ball in as Chubs and his teammates raced down court to set up on D. A moment later the horn sounded and Chubs breathed a sigh of relief that the second team had been able to save the win. The cheering in the stands made him feel proud. He looked around at the rest of the second team and knew they were feeling it as well. They were all together now, it was a real team. Freddy clapped him on the shoulder and pumped his fist as they celebrated on the sidelines. Coach Wilson started with his criticisms, as usual, but finished by complementing each player on the second team for their performance.

"Good job, men. All your hard work is paying off. You're beginning to come together. Now let's go eat some of that Potluck and I'll see all of you later at Homecoming."

He motioned to Chubs.

"You didn't forget the three point contest, right?"

Chubs nodded, but he felt his stomach roll with nervousness thinking about it. Suddenly he had to go to the bathroom again and ran to the restroom.

Chubs was the only player at the team Potluck who didn't have any relatives there. Freddy's mom had offered to pick him up so he wouldn't have to carry his food the two miles to school. She gave him a funny look when he told her he'd made the dish himself, but she didn't say anything. He noticed she made sure she stayed close by during the dinner, but when Chubs reassured her he was feeling OK, she drifted off to talk with some of the other parents. Chubs was surprised at how concerned he was about whether the ten bucks he'd spent on pork and seasonings would be received. He'd copied a pulled pork recipe from a program on the Food Channel and was pretty proud of the result. In fact, he'd had to force himself to quit scarfing it before Freddy and his mom got there.

He tried some of the fried chicken and a couple of the potato salads before he nonchalantly drifted over to see how his dish had fared. He was shocked to see that the big metal bowl was completely empty! He looked around to see if someone else had put it in another container when a tall black man stepped up to the table.

"Dang it, I knew I should have gotten a second helping of that pork right away!"

He shook his head and walked away toward one of the other tables, leaving Chubs to savor his success. He stood there for a few more minutes as other people experienced the disappointment of the disappeared pork and almost forgot to eat what was left on his plate. "I wish Auntie Rose was here to see this," he thought.

Freddy's mom had to run home to check on her two younger sons, so Chubs and Freddy made the twenty minute walk from the Junior High School to the High School gymnasium. They could hear the noise from the large building two blocks away. That was enough to get Chubs' stomach flopping around again. The noise was like a wall as the Coach ushered them in without having to pay, and pointed to their section of the stands. Most of the other players and their parents were there already. Chubs noticed Chrissy in front of the cheering section. For Homecoming, both the varsity and junior varsity cheer-leading squads got together for their routine. Because half-time would feature the three point shooting contests, both of the cheer-leading squads were scheduled to be featured before the player introductions. Chubs watched Chrissy do handsprings, cartwheels and lifts with a lump in his throat. "She sure is beautiful," he thought.

He looked around the gym and immediately became aware that their opponents were the Falstaff Indians.

He felt uncomfortable at the cartoon caricatures depicting Indians drawn on many of the posters that covered the gym walls, but not nearly so uncomfortable as he did when the cheering section started shouting, "Scalp the Indians, Butcher the Braves" over and over again.

Some people in the stands put their hands to their mouths and "woo wooed" derisively. "Send em back to the Rez!" yelled a large white man in suspenders and a stained T-shirt sitting behind them.

Freddy rolled his eyes and made a gesture with his middle finger but kept it low and close to his shirt so that only Chubs could see it.

Chubs was glad Uncle Jerry wasn't here. Jerry had been a Red Power activist since the early 1970's. He'd been around during the first days of Alcatraz, had jumped the fence at DQU, and had helped smuggle food and ammunition into the village at Wounded Knee during the occupation. He'd always been on the fringes of course, with his red hair, light skin, and freckles--but he hadn't let that stop him.

Jerry had been active getting the Holman City Unified School District to change the High School and Junior High mascot names from the Chiefs and Braves to the Timberwolves and Cubs. His face would get red and the veins in his neck stand out anytime someone argued about Native rights, stereotypes, treaties, government, resources or mascot names. Auntie Ticks agreed with him, but in a much more reserved way. She held him back when his natural energy threatened to get him in trouble. Just her presence had saved him from getting pounded by other Natives when he stepped over the line. Since he looked white, he was often a target of Native people who believed that race was the main element that went into identity. Chubs was fine with his Uncle's identity, but sometimes he thought Jerry went overboard trying to prove just how Indian he was.

The first half of the game ended with the Indians taking a two point lead over the Panthers, which upset the hometown crowd and caused at least one fight in the stands.

Chubs was standing on the crowded sideline, waiting for the announcer to call out the contestants for the three point contest. Someone grabbed his elbow and he turned to find Chrissy standing beside him. He was surprised, as always, by the genuine warmth of her smile. He had never had a real Anglo friend, especially a popular, pretty cheerleader with an IQ that probably doubled his own. As he returned her smile he thought of what his grandfather would have said if he had voiced that thought aloud and almost burst out laughing. He would have said something like, "IQ, does that have anything to do with Indian quotient?" No one would get it and no one would laugh but his Papa would really think it was funny--and his Nana would smile.

"Hey, Earth to Jesse!"

Chubs came back to the moment. This happened to him a lot. Sometimes his thoughts seemed to drift way and reality would disappear. In kindergarten they'd called it daydreaming and laughed about it. By third grade, at his parent-teacher conferences, the teachers weren't amused anymore. They told his grandparents if he didn't get more serious about his studies, he would fall behind. He remember his Papa telling his Nana that he'd be worried about any third grader taking his studies seriously. His Papa encouraged him to pay attention to his dreams. His grandparents thought his daydreaming was a good thing; an indication of his natural spirituality. Anytime his Papa had had to go pour water for people, or sing, he always made sure that Chubs went along. For most of his growing up, gatherings and ceremony had been a part of his life. His grandpa had said that it was his to learn and Chubs had begun his training. He had a good memory and seemed to easily remember everything he heard and saw. His grandma had called him "a strong-heart." Then he'd lost them and now there was no one to teach him.

A loud buzzer drowned out his answer to Chrissy as a loudspeaker began calling out names. Chubs was last on the list of four. He was immediately conscious of over six hundred pairs of eyes on him. He visualized himself, overweight, in jeans that were too tight and barely reached the tops of his fraying tennis shoes.

Chrissy nudged him and said, "I think you've got your shirt on inside out."

He looked down in shock, but the shirt was right.

"Gottcha!" she smiled. "Lighten up or you're gonna have a stroke."

He grimaced at her and tried to suck in his stomach and run smoothly out onto the court but one of his sneakers hit a wet spot on the gym floor and he almost toppled, sliding and teetering, regaining his balance at the last possible moment. A couple of the Panther cheerleaders saw him slip and laughed. He could feel the blood run into his face.

"Watch out, Jumbo," one of them shouted. Her friend hushed her up and she flashed Chubs a dark look.

Chubs was shocked. He had never had a high school cheerleader speak to him before Chrissy. Whenever he used to ride the bus the older kids had never spoken to him. He reached the baseline where a short man in sweats and an AC/DC sweatshirt called them together.

"Okay, this is how it goes. Your name is called, you run out to mid-court. Then run back to the spot on the three point line you want to shoot from. Once you get the first ball, you can move two times if you'd like, anywhere on the line. These four gentlemen, he pointed to four high school JV players in their uniforms, will try to make sure you have a ball as fast as you want one. You've got one minute to shoot. The person who hits the most buckets in ninety seconds wins. Tie, and you do it again. Any questions?"

Chubs watched as the first boy, a tall, husky Latino, shot as fast as he could from about ten feet from the baseline in the corner. He missed badly the first few times, but caught fire and hit ten in a row. He finished at sixteen. The next kid was one of his second cousins from the Rancheria, Sammy, a freshman. He raised his chin to Chubs as he ran out onto the court wearing a pair of very long shorts that hung below his chicken-bone knees. He maxed at twelve in a row, but ended up with twenty-two. The third shooter out was a stocky, solid African American in a Michael Jordan T-shirt and black sweats. He amazed everyone by hitting his first fifteen shots in a row before he felt apart and lost his rhythm. He struggled to get it back and finally hit another five at the end to put up an admirable twenty-three.

Chubs ran out to half-court, facing the inevitable cheers, jeers, catcalls, hoots and occasional nasty-isms that are a part of high school basketball crowds. He turned and trotted out to his favorite spot. It was exactly the same place as the one that stayed dry all year by the shed at his Nana and Papas'. It had offered a relatively smooth surface and Chubs had practiced almost all his dribbling from there. One day he had turned without thinking and launched a shot from where he was dribbling. The ball went right through the bent and rusted orange ring so cleanly that Chubs wondered if he'd really made it. After trying it again and hitting it twice more he was convinced. This was his spot. He'd been shooting almost exclusively from there ever since. He reached out to take the first ball and found his cousin, Freddy, standing next to him, looking solemn.

"I wouldn't let you stand out here by yourself, man. I've got your back, and your balls!"

Freddy held out a basketball and grinned.

A whistle sounded and Chubs breathed a deep breath. His Nana had called it a "cleansing breath". She'd learned it attending the Indian Health natural birthing classes required for midwives to be able to practice at the "home birth" unit at Kensington Ridge Hospital. Chubs' Papa had smiled and said. "Let's go honey, we need to learn how to have babies. Ten thousand years isn't enough!" Nana had giggled when he said that. They'd had all five children of their children at home and Grandpa had delivered three of them.

Chubs exhaled slowly, fingering the sticky pimply texture of the new basketball. He noticed that all the other balls were worn. There was even a 'dinosaur' leather ball. It was the "money" ball. A number of local charities benefited every time someone hit the "money ball." You never knew when you were gonna get it. Often the feel and weight of the leather threw even the best shooters off their game. Chub's flinched at the sound of the horn and let his first shot go. A number of voices chimed in.

"Aiiirrrr Baaaall..."

Chubs shook out his hands and began launching shots in a rapid, but controlled way, fighting to relax his body and get into his rhythm. His next couple of tries bounced off the rim and the crowd noise increased. The next shot went down. And the next. And the next. Chubs forgot about the crowd and just concentrated on the front of the rim. His shoulders and arms relaxed, then his waist and hips. He followed all the way through on each shot, then let go and reached for the next ball. He was dispassionate and focused. All there was, was the shot...

"Sixteen!" the crowd roared. "Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty!"

Chubs suddenly heard them counting. He realized they were counting for him! He missed two shots and then another before he calmed down and fell into the groove again.

"Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one!

The horn sounded as the crowed roared. Freddie was yelling in his ear that he had won. Chubs was overwhelmed. The helpers ushered him to the scorer's table where he was given a twenty-inch trophy and a new basketball. Freddy took the trophy and waved it over his head. His name was announced at least five times. The moment was ended by the horn, sounding again. The varsity teams ran back out on the court to warm up for the second half.

Chubs passed by the varsity bench and almost collided with the cheerleader that had given him a dirty look.

"Watch out, fat boy. I don't want to get any on me."

Chubs didn't know what to say. He was angry but too embarrassed to respond.

"What's the matter with you, Felicia? Why would you say something like that?" Chrissy stepped in between them.

"Duh-uhh," said the other girl. "Maybe because he's got such a good tan all over!"

Crissy's face turned beet red.

"I didn't know you were such a racist!"

"I'm not racist," Felicia barked. "I know these ... people. My uncle was killed by one these people drinking and driving."

"All kinds of people drink and drive!"

"Well, it was his kind killed my Uncle."

Chrissy shook her head and led Chubs away from the bench toward the bleachers where the Wildcats were sitting. Chubs got quite a welcome from his teammates and even Coach Wilson said something to him about wanting to talk about his shot after the weekend. Chubs noticed Chrissy wasn't at his side any longer and looked around for her. He saw her standing with a tall blonde man and a shapely blond woman. They were putting on their coats and Chrissy and her Dad seemed to be having an intense conversation. As they wound their way through the last of the half-time crowd struggling back to their seats, Chubs saw Chrissy look his way. She caught his eye and smiled affectionately. It was a warm, big-branched smile and Chubs was captivated.

At only four minutes into the second half, Freddy's mom wanted to leave. Chubs didn't care if he saw the end of the game or not. He wanted to get home. He felt drained and his mind kept thinking of Chrissy. He couldn't wait to sit on the couch and watch his favorite cooking show!

Auntie Ticks called him early the next morning to tell him they were coming up to visit his Auntie Rose and check in on him.

"I'll make you lunch," Chubs said casually, imagining the look of surprise on his Auntie's face.

He left during Saturday morning cartoons to go shopping for food and cooking stuff. He wanted to try some of the recipes he was learning so he only bought two dollars worth of candy bars.

The recipe was for oven-cooked barbecue ribs. Chubs washed his hands thoroughly and looked proudly around the spotlessly clean kitchen. His utensils and supplies were neatly organized on the card table he'd brought in from the shed.

He'd found the foil turkey pan his Auntie used for Thanksgiving stashed above the fridge, then cut the three pounds of tender pork back ribs individually and set them aside. He had been shocked at how much the ingredients for this one meal had cost. He poured the eight ounce jar of honey into the clay cooking pot he'd turned and glazed for his Auntie in the sixth grade, then carefully measured out a teaspoon of paprika, chili powder and two tablespoons of Old Bay seasoning. He caught himself about to use the quarter teaspoon for the garlic and onion powder, but after an exhausting search he couldn't find the half teaspoon so he was forced to use it anyway. One quarter teaspoon of celery salt and black pepper followed the garlic and onion into the bowl. Next he tried to chop a medium onion and was discouraged at how difficult it seemed to be. The knife he was using was dull but it was the only one he could find. He hadn't realized how important a sharp knife was. He measured out a half cup of dark brown sugar and another quarter cup of white sugar to mix in with twelve ounces of mesquite barbecue sauce. He found a large chipped wooden spoon to mix it all together. The smell wafting up from the bowl made his mouth water. He set the oven for 375 degrees and then set about rubbing the semi-dry paste mixture onto the ribs. It felt a little weird using his hands to coat the ribs but he got into it and was surprised at much he was enjoying himself. He lay the ribs in the bottom of the foil pan, arranging them in a spiral circle. Trying to cover the pan with a single layer of aluminum foil turned out to be the most difficult part of the whole process. The first sheet he tore off was too small and the second one ripped in the middle when he tried to cover the pan. Finally, he got it right and gingerly placed the pan on the broiler rack. The stove timer didn't work so he set the microwave timer for an hour.

Chubs sat down at the card table, feeling like he'd just run the marathon. He forced himself to drink a mason jar full of water to quench a massive thirst and then ran to the bathroom for the third time since he'd started the recipe. When he returned, he got the Potato Buds ready, arranged the Hawaiian sweet rolls on the cookie sheet and drained two large cans of green beans. He sat down on the couch to watch one of the popular reality cooking competitions and immediately fell asleep.

He was dreaming about starting the fire for his Papa when a faint ding woke him up. At first he wasn't sure what the noise was, then smelled the cooking ribs and remembered. He jumped up, cursing himself for having fallen asleep. He was supposed to keep an eye on the ribs and turn them a few times while they cooked. He carefully opened the oven door and wrapped a dishtowel around his fingers to lift a corner of the foil to examine the ribs. They shimmered a golden color in the foil pan and smelled wonderful. Chubs turned off the stove and remembered his Auntie's cotton garden gloves in the drawer. He pulled them on quickly and removed the foil pan full of ribs, placing it on the card table. The hot pan started burning the plastic and he hurriedly found a plate to put underneath it. A black burnt ring signaled where he'd placed the pan. Chubs sighed in disgust. He had a lot to learn about cooking. A few minutes later, with the rolls in the oven and the potatoes and green beans steaming on the stove, he relaxed and sat down at the card-table, sipping an orange soda. He put it aside after a moment and laid his head down on his arm.

The sound of a vehicle crunching on the gravel outside the trailer woke him. He shook his head, wondering again if something was wrong with him. He was so tired! He forced himself to jump to his feet. The rolls were slightly over-baked but still edible. The potatoes and beans were perfect, despite his unplanned nap. Some kind of chef he was, falling asleep all the time. Maybe he could get his own reality cooking show and call it "The Unconscious Chef!" A moment later Uncle Jerry and Robby-boy burst through the door. Auntie Ticks followed on their heels. Jerry gave him a quick hug and Robby-boy offered him knuckles.

"Something sure smells good1" Auntie Ticks, held him tightly. "How's Rose?"

Chubs knew Ticks had probably called the hospital ten times in the last two days, but this was her way of letting him know she considered him to be in charge.

"Doc, say's she's doing better, but they're worried about her diabetes."

"Yeah. After dinner, I think I'll leave you boys alone and go visit her."

They couldn't stop talking about how delicious the ribs were. Chubs' puffed with pride. After dinner, he and Robby-boy cleaned the kitchen, then watched a little TV waiting for Auntie Ticks to return from the hospital. Chubs was feeling really worn and and excused himself to go to bed. When he awoke early the next morning, they'd already taken off for the city. His Auntie left him a note reminding him to call them that evening. There was a hundred dollar bill paper-clipped to the note.

Chubs formulated his shopping list as he dressed for school. He couldn't count the number of recipes he wanted to try.

As they got ready for practice that afternoon after school, Coach Wilson waved him over.

"Stop by my office after practice. We need to talk."

Chub barely made it through the drills that afternoon and when it came to the running--he was dead last by a mile. It seemed to take him forever to shower and dress. Finally, he sat down heavily in the chair in front of the coaches' desk, too tired to be nervous.

"Are you OK, son?" was the first thing the coach said to him.

"Just feelin' really tired for some reason today."

Coach Wilson cocked his head to the side and peered at him closely.

"Too much partying this weekend?"

Chubs shook his head negatively.

"Well, I called you in to talk about that three point shot of yours. That was a pretty impressive show you put on at homecoming. Can you do that from anywhere on the line?"

Chubs shook his head again.

"No, just from that one spot. That's the only clear spot I had to shoot from at my Grandpa's house. With all the tree branches in the way--I just shot from there. After awhile, I got pretty good--from there."

"I was thinking we might need that shot down the road." The coach paused for a moment and then said, "Think you can make it under game pressure?"

Chubs shrugged.

Coach Wilson pulled out his clipboard with the key marked on it and began to diagram a play.

"This is what I've got in mind."

Chubs leaned forward to get a better look

Chubs was too tired to go shopping after school, especially when he knew he'd be carrying the groceries home on foot. He walked home after practice and fell into bed without eating. He woke up around midnight and started to eat a Payday but felt sick to his stomach and left the candy-bar half eaten on the table beside his bed.

At game-time that afternoon, Chubs was still feeling weak. He hadn't felt like eating at all. Mostly he was tired and thirsty. He seemed to be either drinking or going to the bathroom every five minutes. He actually caught himself hoping the coach wouldn't put him in, the way he was feeling. He sat down at the end of the bench as his cousin directed the team on the floor. They were blowing the other team out, leading by eighteen. Chubs felt a hand on his shoulder and was shocked to see Chrissy sitting behind him. He hadn't even noticed her. She left her hand on his shoulder and he felt his heart speed up at her touch.

"How--how come you're here?" he stammered.

"Nothing better to do." Her smile changed from open to impish.

"Don't you have cheerleading practice?"

Her smile vanished and she looked away for a moment.

"I quit the team," she said quietly.

Chubs wasn't sure he'd heard her right with the crowd noise.

"Did you just say you quit?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"I couldn't deal with their racism and stuck up attitudes."

Chubs mouth opened and closed a few times as he started to speak, then changed his mind.

"Besides, now I got more time to tutor my favorite eighth grader." She looked away again.

Chubs mind clicked.

"Did you quit because of me?"

At first he thought she hadn't heard him, but then she turned and gazed directly into his eyes.

"I'm not the kind of person to judge people, but they're a bunch of…well, you know. No one talks about my friends like that, and I determine who my friends are--not my peers."

"What did they say about me?"

"You know, typical "dirty Indian" stuff."

Chubs was still too shocked to be upset.

"What did your parents say?"

"They support me. My folks are wonderful people. My Dad can be a hard-ass sometimes, but in the end he always backs me up."

Chubs sat there quietly, envying her and thinking it must feel wonderful to have two parents at home--especially parents that care. Suddenly he felt like someone put a heavy bar across his shoulders. His neck ached and his mouth was dry. He had to go to the restroom. He stood up, feeling light headed.

"I'll be back in a minute."

He started to walk down the sideline, but his dizziness increased. He looked for a place to sit down but the bottom row of the bleachers was packed. The ball bounded by him out of bounds and a ref's whistle sounded close by. The gym started to spin and he felt confused. Chubs heard a loud commotion which resolved itself into someone calling his name.

"What?"

"Are you OK?" the voice asked.

"Sure," he replied, opening his eyes. He raised his head slightly and his confusion returned. "Why am I lying down?"

He recognized Chrissy's voice as she replied.

"You passed out, silly. How do you feel?"

"Weak," he said, trying to sit up.

"Just stay down, son. The paramedics are on their way."

Coach Wilson's concerned face looked down at him.

"I'm OK," Chubs insisted, but as he tried to sit up he felt himself sliding down into the darkness again.

Chubs awoke with a start. It was dark and he didn't know where he was. He tried to focus his eyes in the darkness. It was a small room with an overhead TV mounted on the wall. The bed was narrow with metal railings. It came to him in a rush. He was in the hospital! He turned his head and saw Auntie Rose asleep in the chair next to him. What had happened? All he could remember was being at the game. His Auntie stirred in the chair and opened her eyes.

"Oh, you're finally awake. You had us all plenty worried, Jesse."

Chubs thought about what she said for a moment. His Auntie hadn't called him Jesse for years.

"What happened?"

She started to reply, then hesitated and appeared to be reconsidering her answer.

"I think I'll let the doctor explain it. You go back to sleep."

Chubs was going to ask another question, but it skipped away like a stone across the water. Sleep sounded good.

The next time he awoke it was daylight. The room was filled with people. His Auntie was there, with Uncle Jerry and Robby-boy at the foot of his bed. Freddy and his Mom, Freda, stood by the window. Coach Wilson stood next to Chrissy and her Dad near the door. Auntie Rose still sat in the chair beside him.

"How's my boy?" she said tenderly.

"I'm OK, I think."

"Better than the last time we saw you!" Coach Wilson's voiced filled the room.

Chrissy moved to his side, careful not to stand between him and Auntie Rose.

"You gave us all a good scare," she said, smiling her beautiful smile and putting her hand in his.

Chubs saw his Auntie's smile widen.

"Okay, okay--part the waters, folks, El Doctoro is coming through!"

A tall gangly white man with a shock of unkempt red hair and a wrinkled white jacket burst into the room. His stethoscope bounced on his chest as he walked. His face was covered with freckles and his bright green eyes sparkled. He grasped Chubs' wrist and quickly took his pulse, swept up the clipboard from the table and read the stats.

"Yep, you're gonna live, young fella. But believe me, your life is gonna change!"

His manner changed abruptly and he grew serious.

"What we have here is a case of too many sodas and candy-bars, too much sugar and white flour after too many centuries of salmon or buffalo meat or acorns. Your Native American body just can't take the abuse!"

Chubs expected his Uncle Jerry to jump in and correct the doctor on using the politically correct term, "Native Americans", pointing out that anyone born here was technically a "native" American. But Jerry stood uncharacteristically silent.

The doctor continued.

"So like most everything else my White ancestors gave to, or forced upon, our Red brothers--you got the short end of the stick! Confused?"

Chubs nodded.

The doctor's manner softened even further and he laid his hand on Chubs' shoulder.

"You're suffering an early onset of type-two diabetes. You went into a diabetic coma; low blood sugar brought on from not eating and eating the wrong thing. But I've got you straightened out." The red-headed doctor gave Chubs a hard look. "Whether you'll stay that way is up to you. No more soda, no more candy bars, no more sugar--period. You have to change your habits, my boy. If you do, you'll live a pretty normal life--if not," he raised his hands, palms to the front, "then we'll probably be seeing a lot more of each other." He stood for a moment, waiting for Chubs to say something, then waved with a flourish and strode out of the room.

Chubs was going through a lot of emotions at once. He felt guilty that he'd caused everyone so much trouble, grateful that so many people cared, and angry that he'd ignored the warning signs. He'd never even considered that he might get diabetes at his age, even though he knew all Native people were high risk. Practically every adult he knew had it, but only a few kids. He looked at Auntie Rose.

She had a sympathetic look on her face. He noticed how much thinner her face appeared and how much older she looked. Her ordeal had really taken a toll from her. He reached out to her, overcome with emotion, and they hugged each other for a long time. Everyone else stood respectfully by, letting them have their moment.

"How are you, Auntie?"

"I'll be coming home with you," she replied.

Chrissy visited him the next morning at the hospital, then showed up at his Auntie's house the afternoon they both were released.

"I invited her over to tutor you," Rose explained, her eyes twinkling as she said it.

Chrissy unloaded a pack full of books as Chubs groaned out loud.

"We've got a lot of catching up to do," was all she said.

Secretly, Chubs was in heaven.

His Auntie Rose whined about "someone redoing her kitchen", but Chubs knew she was grateful that the house wasn't destroyed and he'd taken care of her things. She was visibly impressed by the new additions to her cooking pots and utensils. He made dinner for them the first night they were home and her eyes widened when she tasted his pot roast.

The second week he was home he started shooting baskets again. Chrissy would appear almost as soon as school was over. She sat on the front porch watching him shoot.

"You're pretty amazing, you know," she said one day. "You hardly ever miss from that spot."

"Too bad the rest of my game isn't as good."

"Well, my Dad says we have to be grateful for any talent."

"What does he think about bringing you out here to the Rancheria every day?"

"He's a little concerned…but as long as I'm not walking around he's OK with it."

Chubs was intrigued. He hadn't spoken more then ten words to her father since he'd met him, but the man always looked him in the eye and seemed pretty easy to get along with. It was amazing the trust Chrissy and her Dad seemed to have between them. Chubs had trusted his Nana and his Papa, but had never felt comfortable relying on his Mom. As far as men in his life went, his Papa and Uncle Jerry were the only two he could trust entirely. Now he was down to one.

After missing two weeks of school and four league games, the team welcomed him back enthusiastically. The coach even had them work on their "secret play." Chubs hit both of his shots cleanly as Coach Wilson beamed from the sideline.

As the weeks went by, with Chrissy's tutelage, Chubs' grades began to improve significantly. He became more interested in his class work as his success increased. His Cousin Della, who was in most of the same classes as he was, commented about his having a "Barbie" for a tutor, but she didn't say it in a nasty way so he didn't get mad.

"You coulda asked me if you needed help. Not all Natives are dumb, you know!"

Chubs knew she was jealous. If they hadn't been related, Della would probably be his girlfriend. She was cute and smart and they'd been close all their lives. She didn't seem to care that he was overweight either. But they were second cousins, and despite what a few other Natives were doing, his Grandparents had taught him that going out with relatives was taboo. Della understood. Her parents felt the same way--but she still considered him to be under her control. She had been ordering him around since they were four.

Chubs' teachers were impressed by his progress, which he attributed to Chrissy's method of tutoring. She always had concrete examples he could see or visualize and often she figured out ways for him to use his hands in the process. He'd learned early on that he was a hand's-on learner. If he had to learn something by listening or reading, he'd never get it. He could learn visually to a point, but if he could get his hands around a problem he could solve it pretty quick. Her talent was in creatively figuring out ways to teach him without having to tell him how to do it. His grade point average had increased from a C-minus to a solid B. It was great not having to worry when grades were coming out whether he'd be eligible or not. His self-esteem soared. In the dead of night, he still craved candy-bars. Often he'd get up and roam through the house, wishing he could find a Snickers or something to scarf. More often than not he'd end up in the kitchen, gnawing on a piece of jerky and drinking Splenda-sweetened ice tea. He'd lost eighteen pounds since his hospital visit. Now he needed a belt to hold up his jeans. In his mom's box, he found one of his father's belts--a wide leather braid with a wolf's head buckle. He felt funny wearing it at first. It was the only contact he'd had with his father since he'd left.

With only one league game left, the eight grade Wildcats were tied with the Harding Mustangs for the championship. All the teams made it to the round-robin post season tournament but bragging rights went to both the league and tournament champions.

The Mustangs were a short but lightning-fast, man-to-man defensive team that loved to run and gun. The Wildcats increased their running drills to get ready for what they knew would be a game determined by who was in the best condition and who wanted it the most. The Mustangs point guard was a Native kid, like Freddy, ahead of the curve in his ball handling and court sense. Chubs tried to get Freddy to laugh before the game by telling him a couple of powwow jokes, but his cousin didn't even crack a smile.

The first quarter was a wild one with each team pushing the ball up the court as fast as they could and rebounding furiously. Both teams were hitting their shots and the score climbed quickly.

The battle between Freddy and Tino Bill, the Mustangs point guard, heated up considerably when Freddy stole the ball from him as he was calling a play and drove the length of the court to score. Tino followed close behind and tried a misguided hack at the ball as Freddy went up for the layup, hitting the Wildcat in the shoulder and drawing the foul. Freddy made him pay for his mistake by sinking his free throw and completing the three point turnaround. A few minutes later, Tino returned the favor by stealing Freddy's pass into the post and raced down court for the layup, but Freddy was smart and though he pressed him hard right up to the moment of release, he didn't foul him.

The quarter ended with the score tied eighteen all. Chubs sat on the edge of his seat, wondering if he would see any action. Freddy's face was drawn and tight with determination. Chubs stood beside him in the team huddle and bumped him with his shoulder. Freddy looked at him and Chubs filled his cheeks with air, making a face that always made his cousin smile. Freddy's grim look softened and the corner of his lip curled into a half smile.

“We'll see how much clowning you do when you go in,” Freddy said. Chubs' stomach started doing its customary rolls.

As if on cue, Coach Wilson called his name.

“Jesse, get in there for Mark. Let's see you hit the big ones. Everybody remember your assignment-three times in a row, start baseline left, then baseline right, then top of the key. Guards, don't forget to block out and rebound!”

Chubs ran out on the court. The Wildcats had the possession arrow as Freddy inbounded the ball to the Wildcat's other guard, Paul Rivera, a solid player with great passing instincts and solid dribbling skills. It was his job to hit Chubs with the pass. As Paul dribbled down the right side of the court, Chubs ran to the left side low block and sat up next to his forward, Phillip Freise. Phillip was almost six feet tall but he weighed almost two hundred and fifteen pounds and could run like a horse. Chub's man was a muscular Black kid, who looked like he could bench press a buffalo. He followed Chubs closely into the key and Phil immediately set a terrific screen on him to allow Chubs to flash to the corner. Paul pushed the ball in to Ray Crooks, at the opposite high post, and instantly got it kicked back to him. Freddy charged from his off-side guard position down to the corner and set a tough screen on Chubs' man, trying to recover his position after fighting off Phil's screen at the low block. Chubs scraped him off on Freddy and raced to his spot at the left side three point line, half way between the top of the key and the baseline. Paul's pass was already on the way and arrived perfectly as Chubs set his feet and pivoted for the shot. It was just the way he liked it and his release was smooth. He knew when he let it go that he'd hit it and started backpedaling down-court before it even cut the net.

Freddy caught up with him as they ran down to set up defensively, offering him knuckles and a wide smile. Chubs' nervousness disappeared; replaced with a sense of pride and determination. He had finally contributed something to the team, other than being a practice player. He knew that practice players were important, but nothing felt better than actually being a productive part of the team on the game court. Not everyone got to experience that thrill and he savored it as he hustled defensively. The Mustangs rushed their next shot and the ball caromed off the rim into Chubs hands. He out-letted the ball to Freddy and ran to the opposite side of the court to set up. Freddy made sure he brought the ball down the left side of the court and they ran almost the same play--to the opposite side. Paul followed suit, following Ray Crooks' screen on Chubs' man with one of his own. Freddy hit Chubs with the pass, then set a third screen on Chubs' harried and frustrated defender as Chubs let the shot go from his sweet spot. Once again, he buried it. As he ran up the court, hearing the crowd, his heart pounded. They were cheering for him! He was almost distracted into losing track of his man but the Mustang coach saved him by calling for a thirty second timeout. He trotted to the sideline and heard Chrissy's whistle.

The first time she'd whistled at him was when they first met. They were supposed to meet outside the library. He got there early and walked around and around, wondering what she would look like. Since he didn't have a watch, he had to keep ducking into the library to check out the time. He was beginning to think he'd missed her, or messed up the day, as he started to go inside for the fourth time. A seriously loud and piercing whistle stopped him in his tracks. He looked around to see a beautiful girl, wearing a simple blue dress covered with sunflowers, standing only twenty feet away--the fingers of one hand at her lips. Her smile was friendly and open, and Chubs couldn't help noticing the way the sun shining through her dress outlined her curves in a very complementary way. His mouth dropped open as she walked right up to him and put out her hand.

“Hi, Jesse. I'm Chrissy, your new tutor.”

He soon learned that she used that whistle in a lot of different situations. It was so shrill and piercing it made you want to cover your ears, but there was no denying it got everyone's attention!

He looked for her in the stands. It wasn't hard to single her out, Chubs thought. All you had to do was look for the most beautiful girl in the gym. Chrissy smiled, and gave him a thumbs-up. Chubs realized he was grinning back at her. Coach Wilson brought him back to reality in a hurry.

“You boys better not let down on these guys. They can come back in a hurry. We need to keep the pressure on D, don't make mistakes, and keep hammering them on the boards. Be aggressive, but be smart. Don't sit back 'cause we have a little cushion. Let's add to it. Jesse, this time we use option two. Got it?”

Chubs nodded and the Wildcats ran back onto the court.

The next time down on offense Chubs did everything he had before, but this time the Mustangs were ready. Their Coach had instructed the D to switch on the screens, rendering the first Wildcat strategy ineffective, but also setting up a size mismatch on the first screen. By the time Chubs got the ball at the three point line, the defense man was close enough to defend the shot, but Chubs wasn't looking to shoot. He faked the shot, took one dribble to the right and fired a blazing pass right through the key to Ray Crooks, the Wildcat center, at the nearside low block. Ray put a baseline move on the shorter defender and scored easily. He pointed at Chubs in recognition of the spot-on pass. Chubs returned the point and ran up-court feeling more a part of the team than ever. He was always surprised by how good it felt to make an assist. Sometimes it was better than scoring your self! The Mustangs tried to force a pass to Chubs' man, and he slapped the ball away. Freddy picked it up before it went out-of-bounds and drove the length of the court to score. After that, it was pretty much a blowout. Chubs hit another three at the two minute mark and iced the game. He finished with nine points in his first full eighth grade game!

The team celebrated their victory over Harding with high-fives all around, and then decided to go to the Pizza Shack in town. Chubs and Freddy stood back a little; neither one of them had a ride home or the money to go. Meanwhile, Chrissy made her way down from the stands and grabbed Chubs' hand enthusiastically when she got there. He squeezed her hand in return, fully expecting her to immediately let go. When she tightened her grip on his hand and bumped her shoulder against his affectionately, he could feel the skin around his ears getting red. He was standing in the packed gym, holding hands with a Sophomore--and a beautiful one too! They followed the group outside where he drew her aside. Freddy trailed along behind, a curious look on his face.

"Freddy and I can't go into town," Chubs explained. "We don't got a ride home."

"Haven't got," Chrissy corrected. "You haven't got a ride home--and yes you do. My Dad's gonna drive us!"

"We haven't got any money either."

"That's OK, I do," she said firmly.

She tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him toward the parking lot.

"He's parked over here." Chrissy looked back toward Freddy and said, "Come on Freddy, you gotta help me babysit, Jesse."

Chubs' ear got red again as he saw the look on Freddy's face change from curiosity to amusement. He knew he was gonna take a lot of kidding about this, but the warmth of Chrissy's hand reminded him it was worth it.

As they neared the white Toyota Prius, Chubs tried to withdraw his hand from Chrissy's so her Dad wouldn't see them holding hands. He was used to the dark looks and unkind words that usually accompanied anyone seeing Native boys and white girls together. It didn't matter if you were in the middle of town, or in the middle of the Rancheria, someone always had something negative to say. Even Chubs' Papa and Nana used to comment about Indian boys and girls marrying Indian boys and girls. Even they were apprehensive of the mixing. Chubs thought that the time for worrying about that was gone. So many of the Tribal peoples were mixed blood already, and besides, he and Chrissy weren't getting married--they were just holding hands. Still, he felt nervous at Chrissys' Dad seeing them. Chrissy waved to Freddy to take shotgun in the front seat, while she dragged Chubs into the back, never relinquishing her steel grip on his hand.

Chrissy's Dad immediately turned to him, offering his hand. Chubs looked carefully at his expression to see if he could detect any animosity as he withdrew his hand from Chrissy's, but there was none.

"Call me Charlie. We haven't spoken much but I've heard a lot about you. Where are we headed, Kiddo?" her father said to Chrissy, after repeating the handshake with Freddy.

"The Pizza Shack, Dad. Afterward, I'll call you. They'll need a ride to the Rancheria."

"I think pizza sounds good," Charlie responded.

Chrissy sighed and patted her father on the shoulder with her left hand as she squeezed the blood out of Chubs' hand with her right.

"He's so…o protective!" she whispered.

"I heard that!" Charlie said, then turned up the radio.

Chubs was surprised to hear the community Native station. He settled back as Chrissy snuggled up beside him. The Blues Show was on and BB King was wailing on his guitar, Lucille. Chubs put his face against Chrissy's hair and smelled lilac.

He barely ate anything at all at the party with Chrissy sitting next to him. He was too self-conscious to stuff his face the way he usually did when eating pizza. The whole room seemed to notice how close Chrissy sat beside him and there were plenty of stares and hard looks thrown their direction. Chrissy seemed oblivious to the covert attention they were getting. Finally, the attention shifted to Coach Wilson, who gave a short speech encouraging all the players to stay out of trouble over the weekend and keep their celebrating legal.

Before he knew it, they were back in the car heading toward the Rez. Chrissy's Dad only asked a few pointed questions about his home life, and seemed satisfied when Chubs said he lived with his Auntie. He didn't mention his Uncle Bud. Chubs was surprised he wasn't getting the third degree. He thought that if he had a daughter as beautiful as Chrissy, he'd want to know every little detail about any boy she was holding hands with!

Chrissy gave him a kiss on the cheek as he climbed out of the back when they got to his Aunties' trailer. Inside, he went straight to his room, trying to hold onto the way he felt a little longer. Could his life get any better?

Chubs heard the phone ring in the kitchen and listened to Auntie Rose struggle to get up to answer it. He felt guilty for not rushing to help her and jumped out of bed, but she was already answering.

"It's your Uncle Jerry," she said.

Uncle Jerry's voice sounded exited.

"Hey Jesse, guess what?"

Jerry rushed on without even letting Chubs get in the obligatory, "What?"

"The college approved our application for a powwow next month! Isn't that great? Robby-boy's entered in the Grass Dance contest. We were hoping you could come too. We'll camp out. It'll be sweet. We'll even have an Indian Taco booth for you to show off your cooking skills." He paused a moment for Chubs to answer, then said quickly, "You can even invite someone if you want. We'll come up and get you the Friday before."

Chubs did a little figuring to make sure that the playoffs would be over before he replied.

"Yeah, sure, that's cool. I'd like that." Chubs mind was already racing forward, thinking about the one person he'd really like to ask.

"Great! We'll see you then."

Auntie Rose was smiling a crooked smile when he got off the phone.

"You rushed to your room in such a hurry--I never got a chance to ask who the girl was, in the back of that car?"

Chubs gaped.

"Don't looked so shocked boy. I ain't stupid you know. You're plenty old enough to have a girlfriend. It was that girl Chrissy wasn't it, your tutor?"

Chubs nodded, mute.

"Okay, so don't talk about her then." She giggled and sat down on the couch to watch "So You Think You Can Dance."

Chubs returned to his room, turned on the radio, and sat on the edge of his bed. He wondered if Chrissy's parents would let her go to the powwow. The DJ played Bill Miller's "Heart Of A Child" as he fantasized about spending a whole day with Chrissy. He fell asleep, hugging his pillow.

All the next week, the school buzzed about the upcoming playoffs. Five other middle schools within a fifty mile range were coming to the high school. As the regular season champs, the Wildcats had a bye as the other four teams played to determine who would meet them in the District Finals. Coach Wilson demanded that his player attend all the preliminary games to see their opponents at least once more before the championship game. All the games were hard fought but, as expected, the Salisbury Eagles prevailed. Salisbury made them nervous.

Their first time out against the Eagles, during the regular season, the Wildcats had barely won the game--and that was because the Salisbury point guard had been hurt and their best player had fouled out at the end. It was definitely going to be tough. Salisbury had a bunch of tall boys that packed in around the key creating an almost impenetrable defensive wall. They were quick to help each other and their size helped them dominate the boards. Coach Wilson spent the week stressing blocking out and positioning. He also kept reminding his players that because the Eagles controlled the boards so well, the Wildcats had to choose carefully and make every shot count.

Game time came and Chubs found himself in the starting lineup. As the Wildcats ran out onto the gleaming high school court in their burgundy red uniforms, Chubs was exhilarated and scared at the same time. On his first defensive possession he went back to his old habits and drew a foul for reaching in. A quick glance toward the bench and Coach Wilson's scowling face reminded him he had to play smart and he settled down to do his job. The Wildcats started their offense by swinging the ball quickly around the perimeter and then pushing it inside and kicking it out again to try and shake the Eagles zone into over-committing and being out of position. It didn't work. The Eagles were a well-disciplined team and their zone was tight, yet flexible. Phil and Ray were working hard at the post and each scored twice to keep the Wildcats close. The 'Cats tough man defense held the high-scoring Eagle offense to only ten points as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the first period.

"Let's put some pressure on these boys and see how they handle it. Get into our half-court press and deny every pass. Force them to put the ball on the floor." Coach Wilson knelt inside the circle and scribbled a new play on his clip-chalkboard. "When we get the ball, Jesse, start at your off-side high post. Paul, feed it into Ray at the opposite high block. Ray, swing it to Freddy in the opposite corner. Jesse, flash to your spot and Freddy hit him for the three--if it's not open then go back to the corner and let Freddy try it. We have to loosen up their zone. After that, go back to our three-point playbook and keep taking them until I tell you to change. Once we've got them loosened up, we'll pound the ball back inside to Ray and Phil. Got it?"

Everybody nodded as the horn sounded and they sprinted back out to their positions. Chubs ran to the high block, opposite his normal guard spot, and waited for Freddy and Paul to bring the ball down. Everything went perfectly except that Freddy put a little too much on his pass and Chubs was unable to handle it as it skipped out of bounds. As they hustled back to set up at half-court, Chubs heard Coach Wilson clapping his hands and yelling from the sidelines.

"Shake it off and run it again next time."

Freddy immediately made up for his mistake by stealing the ball and driving the length of the court for a lay-up to move the 'Cats within two of the Eagles. Ray Crooks stole a pass on the Eagles next possession and the Wildcats ran down to try the play again. This time Freddy's pass was perfect and Chubs buried the three.

The score seesawed back and forth. Chubs hit another three and Freddy nailed a pull-up jump-shot but the Eagle offense got hot and it seemed like everything they put up went down, so the Wildcats gained no advantage. In the fourth period, the Eagle defensive wall shut out the Wildcat penetration, even after Chubs buried another trey. Coach Wilson called time out with two minutes left and the score tied. Chubs had just been on the wrong end of a three-point Eagle play and he was determined to make up for it. He'd gotten a little too close to his man and was unable to slide through underneath the screen. Freddy gave him plenty of room but Chubs found himself a half-a-step behind, with his man driving to basket. He positioned himself to slap the ball away as the boy prepared to shoot but was late and got some wrist and not much ball. The shot went up, rolled around the rim and fell through as the referee whistled a foul. A moment later the Wildcats were behind by five with only a minute left.

A moment later, Chubs hit his fifth three-pointer and the crowd went wild, but he was still upset with himself for his previous defensive mistake. The Eagles ran the shot clock down to the last second before taking their opportunity and Chubs blocked out hard to get the rebound as Freddy called time with thirty-two seconds left.

Coach Wilson stood silent for a moment as the Wildcat team stood around him, waiting for their endgame direction.

"I want everybody to know how proud I am of how you young men have played tonight. I mean it." He looked around earnestly. "So let's give it our best shot. Run Jesse back and forth from the corner and swing the ball until the shot clock is down. We're down by three so it won't do us any good to go inside. Freddy and Paul, if you get an open three, take it--otherwise look to Jesse at his spot."

The noise in the gym was deafening as people stamped their feet on the wooden benches and yelled at the top of their lungs. Chubs ran onto the court, amazed to find himself in such a situation. He'd dreamed of it, but really never expected to find himself a part of it. Freddy in-bounded the ball to Paul and the game clock started. Chubs ran to the corner and then flashed to his sweet spot. The Eagle zone closed in front of him, so he ran to the corner again. The ball swung to the other corner, then inside to Ray, then back out to Freddy. Freddy faked a shot then flipped the ball to Paul. The defense swung to that side just a tad late, and Paul loosed an embarrassing three point attempt that banged off the backboard and deflected off two defenders' hands toward the sideline. Chubs raced toward it and recovered it just before it crossed the out-of-bounds line. He pivoted to face the basket and heard the crowd yelling shoot. An Eagle player stepped in front of him, hands high. Chubs glanced toward the clock to find it ticking down from seven. He faked baseline and then put the ball on the floor and dribbled toward the top of the key, just outside the three point line. His defender followed closely. Chubs heard the intensity of the noise increase and knew the clock was about to run out. He stopped his dribble, set his feet, and tried to shoot over the outstretched hands of his defender. The boy lunged at him and literally knocked him off his feet as he released the ball. Chubs went down hard on his backside as the horn sounded and the gym became a madhouse of noise and energy. He struggled to his feet, knowing by the look on Freddy's face that the shot had missed. A shrill whistle blew right next to him. The stripe-shirted official was waving his arms and pointing.

"Foul on number 32. Reaching in, on the shot. Offense will get three free-throws!"

It took the officials almost five minutes to clear the floor. Chubs stood in a daze by the bench, Coach Wilson's arm around his shoulder.

As the officials gathered near the free-throw line, the Coach patted him on the back.

"Guess we should have spent more time on free throws, huh?"

He smiled and said gently, "Just do your best, Jesse. Without your killer shot, we wouldn't have been close. I'm proud of you, son."

The officials blew on their whistles and waved Chubs out to the free-throw line. Since the game had ended, none of the other players were on the court. The fans were pounding on the bleachers, some cheering him on, some yelling insults.

He had never expected this. This was the worst. To be out here by himself trying to do something he was terrible at in front of all these people…he couldn't imagine a worse nightmare. But he had to do it. He had to finish. Stepping up to the free throw line, he tried to remember all the steps of his free-throw shooting routine. Set the feet. Dribble the ball to loosen the arms and shoulders. Place the hands in position. Take a deep breath to relax. Bend the knees. Sight on the front rim of the basket, raise `the hands and…Chubs took his first shot. The ball hit the backboard hard and dropped straight through the net. The Wildcat fans went wild. Chubs had a little more confidence as he went through the routine again. He loosed the shot and knew right away it was short. The ball hit the front of the rim and softly skipped up and over to roll around twice before it hesitated and slowly dropped through the net.

Chubs realized he had been holding his breath along with everyone else. He gasped in nervousness, gulping in huge breaths to try and calm his shaking hands. One more--only one more to put the game into overtime. He could do it, he knew he could. He went through the process again but as he let the ball go he realized that he had hurried his routine and had forgotten to focus on sighting in the front rim. The ball hit slightly off to the left, rolled around the rim once, and dropped off. The Eagles fans went nuts. Chubs stood for a moment and then walked off the court dejectedly to join his teammates. Everyone made it a point to tell him not to worry about it, but Chubs couldn't help the feeling that he'd let everybody down. The game today had been the high point and low point of his short basketball life. A lot had been packed into the last hour and a half. He felt drained.

Coach Wilson gave them a short speech about "keeping their heads up and being proud" but they were all taking the loss hard. They went down the line half-heartedly shaking hands with the jubilant Eagle players and coaches, then put on their warm-ups and waited for the game announcements.

Chubs had to endure another humiliation when he was named "player of the game" for his seventeen point contribution and had to go out onto the court to receive his plaque. Any other time he would have felt pride mixed with embarrassment, but after the loss he just wanted to get out of there. He hurried back to the bench and picked up his bag. Freddy was already gone. Chubs wasn't looking forward to the long walk home in the cold. He was caught up in the crowd trying to squeeze their way through the lobby doors when he felt someone grab his hand and squeeze it tight.

"Trying to get outta here without me, huh?"

Chrissy's wide smile caused him to relax and he gave her a rueful half-grin.

"Blew that last shot…didn't I?"

"Yep," she said cheerfully. "It never had a chance." She giggled at Chubs' crestfallen expression. "But up until then, you were awesome! How about me and my Pops give you a ride home?"

Chubs nodded gratefully.

"He wants to talk to you about the powwow thing."

Chrissy's Dad was lavish with his praise of Chubs' performance in the game. After he'd detailed most of Chubs' best highlight moments, he got serious.

"So tell me about this powwow. My wife and I were planning to go into the city that weekend, so it looks like it could work. What time would we drop her off and pick her up?"

By the time they reached the Rez, the plan was set. Chrissy was going to get to spend the day and some of the evening with Chubs at the powwow. Chrissy held his hand all the way home. By the time he went into the trailer, the sting of the Wildcat defeat had been replaced by a warm fuzzy anticipation of the weekend to come. Rather than going to sleep right way, Chubs spent the next few hours seasoning the meat for his Indin tacos as his Auntie grilled him about the game. He was surprised how fast the hurt of the loss was passing away.

Auntie Rose noticed and said, "Not taking this too hard are you? Must be something else on your mind, neh?"

Chubs never got over how insightful his Auntie was. She always seemed to know when he had something, or someone, on his mind. He went to bed smelling of seasoning salt and green peppers, thinking about how unpredictable life was. How had it been possible for him to score seventeen points in a championship basketball game when only a month ago he hadn't played a whole quarter in a game in his life? And what had he done right to deserve a chance to spend the day with a beautiful high school girl, that held his hand and made him feel special? Where did that come from? He feel asleep, the smell of her perfume lingering in his nose.

The weekend didn't start off the way he imagined. His Auntie and Uncle called to say they'd be late to pick him up and he had to call Chrissy to let her know that they'd have to meet around noon, instead of ten. She sounded a little disappointed and preoccupied and Chubs wondered what else could go wrong.

Uncle Jerry showed up by himself to pick them up, explaining that his Auntie Ticks was working furiously on Robby-boy's riggins for the dance. Jerry was worried that the host drum, Wolf Robe, wouldn't make it because a blizzard had hit the Midwest and Plains states earlier in the week, and he hadn't heard from them. By the time they got to the powwow, it was ten after ten.

Chubs hustled to unload the truck with Uncle Jerry, as Auntie Ticks hustled Robby-boy off to registration to get his number. Even though Auntie Rose was going to be running it, Chubs had agreed to be in charge of getting all the food ready for the Taco Stand. He had all the dishes and sides in K-Mart plastic containers. The frybread was made but Chubs had hoped there'd be a way to heat it. His Uncle had a small microwave but wasn't sure there'd be power nearby. Once they were there it was obvious there wasn't any power around. The bigger food stands had all the power outlets used up with their long orange cords running across the ground behind the midway. As soon as they were set up and he put up the sign, they started selling. He barely had time to go meet Chrissy at the entrance. Her Dad gave him a serious, "you better take care of my daughter" look as he left but Chubs was too busy to be concerned.

They heard the first call for Grand Entry and Chubs pointed out Robby-boy to Chrissy on their way to the Taco Stand. Chrissy was distracted for a few moments by the woman next to them, sitting at a card table with her jewelry. Her bead work was tight and the size sixteen cut-glass beads shimmered in the light. Her designs were simple but elegant and her use of color, extraordinary. Auntie Rose had noticed her right away and bought a few key chains, a belt buckle and a hair beret.

"I remember that lady," she said confidently. "She's been around forever. She used to come to a lot of the gatherings on our Rez. I haven't seen her in years. You make her a couple of tacos, Chubs and I'll take them over. Inez, that's her name. I remember now. She has to be seventy-five, if she's a day."

Chrissy pitched in to help Chubs make the first batch of tacos. She had a million questions, and they talked nonstop for the next twenty minutes. The moccasin telegraph was doing its job and they were deluged with Native people clamoring for Chubs' tacos. The drum sounded for the Honor Guard as the Flag Song began in the arena. Finally, the crowd slacked off and his Auntie told them to go and check out the dancers while there was a lull in customers. They hurried to the arena and found a couple of empty bleacher seats behind the rows of camp chairs set up for the Elders and relatives of the Dancers, drummers and VIPS.

Grand Entry was as entertaining as always. Chrissy was fascinated by the outfits and went on and on about how cute the “Tiny Tot” dancers were. Chubs pointed out his cousin and various other members of his people to her as the dancers made their way around the circle. During the Women’s Traditional she was intrigued by the long fringe of the dresses moving in perfect rhythm to the drum and her eyes grew very large during the Fancy Shawl contest. A small, thin, middle-aged man holding a half eaten Indian taco stood by the edge of the stands where they had found empty seats and gestured with his chin in acknowledgment to Chubs. Chubs returned the gesture and the man spoke.

“I don’t know if you know me. My name’s Corbin Walls. I’m the Food and Beverage Director at the Casino.” He took a large bite from the Taco and chewed slowly, looking out at the Fancy Dancers pounding the Astroturf rug on the arena floor. “I think this may be the best Indin taco I ever tasted,” he said, without looking at Chubs.

Chubs grunted politely in acknowledgment of the complement.

“I was thinking,” the little man continued, “that maybe this summer we could use something to spice up our menu. This just might be it. What do you think about working for me in the kitchen? I could start you at nine an hour. You’d have to do the usual for a new kitchen worker-dishes, cleanup, prep-cook-but you’d also have the time to make these Tacos. I think they’d be a big hit.” The man still didn’t look at Chubs; allowing the boy the privacy to think his thoughts without pressure.

There was a long silence before Chubs answered. Inside, his spirit was jumping at the opportunity. On the outside, he was cautious and reserved.

"You know I'm only fourteen."

"Never too young to learn. I started working when I was twelve. Besides, you're big for your age."

Chubs was quiet.

"Aren't you worried about underage employees?"

"We're a Sovereign Nation, son. We make our own labor laws."

“Well then...yeah, I guess that sounds good." Chubs knew that probably wasn't the case but who'd know. "When would you want me to start?”

Corbin turned to face him and put out his hand.

“How about right after school’s out?”

Chubs took it and nodded in affirmation.

“Good. Come down next week and get an application.”

The man raised his hand slightly, took another bite and walked away.

Chrissy nudged him.

“Chef Jesse. You’re already famous!”

Chubs bumped her with his shoulder and changed the subject.

“The Grass Dancers are next. There’s Robby-boy.”

They watched the Grass Dance competition closely. Chubs thought that Robby-boy was at least the second best out there. His feet were right on the drum and his stops were clean and precise. The second the drum stopped, so did his feet and his body was still as a statue.

Chrissy said suddenly. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Chubs pointed behind them to a row of green porta-potties just visible behind the midway.

“I’ll be right back.”

Chubs watched the next few dances. Five minutes passed. He looked around anxiously, Chrissy was taking a long time. Something wasn’t right. He slid off the side of the bleachers and walked quickly toward the direction she had gone. He stood for a minute next to the green toilets, watching the people come and go. After a seeing the doors open and close he was sure that Chrissy wasn’t there and he got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He should never have let her go by herself. Quickly he walked toward the camping area directly behind the green cubicles and his eyes searched the grounds. He could just make out a group of boys standing behind an RV.

One of the boys was looking around suspiciously and Chubs faintly heard a girl’s voice say, “Get your hands off me. Let me go!”

Chubs sprinted toward the RV so that he would come up on the backside away from where they were standing. As he rounded the vehicle he recognized Chrissy’s long blond braid and increased his speed. One of the boys was standing very close to her with his hand where it didn’t belong and the other one behind her neck, pulling her face close to his. Chrissy was struggling to get free. Chubs recognized the boys from the Rancheria. They were his second cousins, Eddy, Sammy and Jim Jacks. They were freshmen at the high school.

He heard one of them say, “Give it up, Barbie. It’s just a kiss...to start!”

Chubs flew into Sammy as he forced his lips against Chrissy’s face. She was trying to turn her head as Chubs put an elbow into Sammy’s ear and body blocked him away from her.

Their surprise allowed Chubs to get in between them and Chrissy.

“Lay off. She’s with me," Chubs said simply.

“Oh look,” said Sammy, rubbing his ear and grimacing, “its Ken, coming to the rescue. Hey Ken, this is an Indin gathering. If you aren’t going to share, maybe we need to teach both of you a lesson.” He grinned evilly.

“Try it,” Chubs said. Inside he was scared, but he was also very angry. This was the kind of stuff that gave the Rancheria and his people a bad name. And, this was his girl! “You guys clear out. We don’t need this kind of crap.”

Sammy lunged at him, fists flailing and Chubs did what his Uncle Bud had taught him. It was one of the few things he’d learned from his Uncle Bud. He stepped back with one foot, then kicked Sammy hard between his legs with the other. The boy went down in a heap, groaning. Chubs stood defiantly.

“Who's next?” he asked.

The boys helped their brother to his feet and started to walk away, making nasty comments about Chrissy and Chubs as they went. Chubs was surprised they gave up without a fight. He was used to every argument on the Rez ending up in a fight.

Chubs turned to Chrissy.

“Are you okay?”

She stepped close to him and gave him a soft and luscious kiss on the lips.

“My hero.”

"How did you get all the way out here?"

"They told me you were out here, helping one of your relatives."

"I'm going to have to watch you like a hawk, aren't I?"

Chubs tilted his head toward her and she stepped into his embrace.

"I think I'd like that," she crooned.

They kissed for a good five minutes before she broke away, breathless.

“Wow,” she whispered in his ear. “I think we better go back to the powwow now.” Her eyes searched his and she gave him another deep and generous kiss.

Chubs really didn’t want to go anywhere, but he forced himself to nod in agreement. The taste of her lips lingered and his steps felt like he was walking on marshmallows as they held hands and made their way back toward the circle. They found a place in the grandstands and Chrissy sat down very close to him. He noticed the looks that many of the Native people gave him as they sat together, his arm around her neck. Some were smiling in approval; others were openly hostile. The second round of dancing had begun when she looked at her watch and motioned that it was time to go.

“My Dad’s probably waiting out there already.”

“Are you gonna tell him what happened?”

“I tell my Dad everything. He’ll understand.”

“I just don’t want him to think bad about my people. We’re not all like that.”

“People are people, Jess. My Dad’s pretty open minded.”

They walked together to the entrance to the Dance Grounds and saw the Prius parked off to the side. Chrissy’s Dad was standing by the door, nodding his head and tapping his foot in time to the echo of the drum behind them.

He reached out his hand and said, “Got her back in one piece, huh?”

For a moment Chubs felt guilty, but warmth of the man’s smile and his genuine friendliness put him at ease.

“See you at lunch, Jess,” Chrissy smiled shyly and ducked into the car.

Chubs watched them go until they were out of sight. He headed back to the Taco booth to help his Auntie clean up, but when he got there everything was done and she was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t feel like going back to the arena so he walked slowly to their tent. He was surprised to find his Auntie Rose, lying on her inflatable sleeping pad, with her arms folded behind her head.

“This reminds me of when I was a little girl,” she said softly. “There was no place I felt more comfortable than at our summer dances, lying under the stars, listening to the drum, hearing the singers, enjoying the sweet of a summer night.”

Chubs lay down on his sleeping bag beside her.

“So what do you think of Chrissy.”

“She’s a very nice girl, Chubs. Respectful and helpful. I like her a lot.” His Auntie sighed. “Times have changed so much. Once I would have thought different. I would have said, “Chubs, find yourself a good Native girl. White girls ’ll only bring you trouble.” When I was young, my family would have had a fit if I brought home a white boy. I felt the same way. But then one daughter brought home a black boyfriend and my other daughter got pregnant by a white guy and then turned out to be Gay and suddenly I had a half-black grandchild, and a half-white grandchild. Everything changed. I think I still wish that our people could find happiness together so that our blood would stay strong. In another few generations, if we lose our language and our culture, who’ll be able to tell the difference anymore? But trying to force it never works. What is meant to be, will be. I thinks she’s a beautiful, intelligent, sensible girl. Just remember, you’re not even in high school yet. Take your time growing up. Being an adult comes too fast anyway.” Chubs lay quietly, thinking about what his Auntie said. It was true. He was in a hurry to grow up. He guessed that was the way life was. His grandpa always said, “Young people want to be older, older people want to be younger. Being content to be where you are is what balance is.”

Suddenly a memory from the past flashed into his mind, complete with the smell of pine and cookies. It was Christmas at his grandparent’s house and Chubs was still a little boy. His Nana had sent him to bed early, so Santa could come. He knew his Papa didn’t believe in Christmas, but he always went through the motions to make it wonderful for him. He had awakened in the middle of the night, and crept into the living room to see if he could get a glimpse of the fat white man in the red suit that left him presents every year. The Christmas tree lights lit the front room in reds, greens and blues. His Nana and Papa had fallen asleep on the couch, her head against his chest, his arm around her shoulder. Chubs remembered thinking how happy they looked. He stood there for long time in front of the wood-stove as they slept peacefully. Listening to the sound of their steady breathing, feeling the comfort and security of the house that sheltered them, Chubs felt the power of their love. The feeling of that moment returned to him and his sense of loss diminished. As the booming powwow drum echoed his heartbeat in the darkness, Chubs sighed like his Papa had taught him, said his prayers of thanksgiving, closed his eyes, and slept in peace.

Ohshinnah's Choice

Ohshinnah Ridge squirmed in the hard narrow chair. The eighth grade boys basketball coach was introducing his players at the basketball awards ceremony in the auditorium of Harley Sanders Middle School. Her brother, Sahli, was standing at the end of the line waiting for his name to be called.

“The next player did a lot to help us win this year's championship. Give it up for number thirteen, our point guard, Billy Tomlinson!”

The crowd of seventh and eighth graders cheered enthusiastically.

Ohshinnah's mouth went dry. Her chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise and her heart was pounding. She knew what was coming. She wanted to get up and run out of the gym but her legs seemed caught underneath her chair and she couldn't free them.

The coach looked down the line of players and shuffled his papers. He looked reluctant to continue.

“Our next player's outside shooting helped us win a number of games and his defense improved all year. Our second highest scorer for the season, Sahli Ridge.”

Ohshinnah held her breath. It was silent for a moment and then it started. A swell of boos that began like lone crows in a naked limbed tree and swelled to a crescendo of flocks protesting the coming of winter. To Ohshinnah, the noise was deafening. She saw her brother's shoulders tighten and his chin sink down toward his chest as he walked toward the coach to get his award for participation. His expression hadn't changed. Oshinnah felt like screaming but she couldn't open her mouth. She felt like she was suffocating as the booing went on and on. Helplessly, she struggled to stand up, rocking from side to side, bumping the students that sat beside her. They laughed at her. She burst out crying...and woke up.

She was in bed in her room. The sky outside was lightening up and the stars were disappearing. Her pillow was wet with tears and she was hyperventilating. She forced herself to take deep breaths until the panicky feeling went away and she was breathing normally again. The nightmare was back. She'd had it continually for almost all of her eighth grade year, but it had gone away after that. She'd just started high school a few weeks ago. It had been almost two years since that day. Her brother, Sahli, was now a sophomore. The day before, his English teacher had sent him to the office because “she couldn't handle him.”

Actually, Sahli hadn't done anything but respond to his tormentors. The preppy white boys that had teased and abused him since the third grade, were now jealous of his dark good looks and the attention he got from all the girls. They knew he was impulsive and quick to act out or say things without thinking. They'd honed the process of goading him until he made some kind of outburst that got him in trouble. Then they'd smirk and high-five each other when the teacher's back was turned. The day before they'd taken turns hitting him in the back of the head as they were called up to get their graded essays on “What I should have done during the summer.” After the third smack, Sahli had reacted by loudly saying, “Cut it out!” The other boys were afraid of him and never pushed him too far. They knew he was basically a peaceful kid that desperately wanted to belong to the group and have their approval, so they knew when to stop--which was right after they got him in trouble. The teacher, Miss Sullivan, obliged, and sent Sahli to see the vice principle for his outburst. She didn't tolerate any noise in her class and all the preppys knew it. Sahli had gone without comment, as usual.

Ohshinnah knew the vice-principal had probably lectured him for the hundredth time on self- control and appropriate behavior, ignoring his version of the circumstances. Her brother had been especially mean to her that afternoon on the bus, pinching her leg and knocking her glasses off as she tried to read. That's how she knew he'd had another bad day.

“Leave me alone, Sahli,” was all she said.

Ohshinnah had her own worries right now. Tomorrow she was going out for cheer-leading and she was anxious to get home and go outside in the back behind the old house and practice her moves in private. She knew she was a pretty good dancer, athletic and capable, but over the last two years she'd put on fifteen pounds and being a little overweight would weigh against her. She could still do the moves, even cartwheels, but she was definitely chubbier than she'd been the year before. Her whole family had a problem with their weight. She knew it was mostly their diet, but she'd done enough reading to learn about genetics and predispositions to obesity. She was really interested in medicine and human anatomy. It had started with her uncle. As if by magic, there was a knock at her door, and her Uncle Tim's face appeared.

“You wanna go hunting with me, Osh?”

“Can't we go Saturday, Uncle? I really need to practice my cheer-leading,” Ohshinnah moaned.

“Aw, come on, lazy bones-you can dance tomorrow. I need my best skinner along today.”

“But we've only got a few hours of light left.”

“So-kay, we're not going far. Just out to that stand of lodge pole by the old mill.”

“Not grey squirrels again!”

“Yep, I'm making some feather staffs and your Grandma's been bugging me. She's got a craving for six-water squirrel.”

Ohshinnah groaned again and reluctantly changed into her worst pair of skinny jeans. She grimaced at how tight they were but squeezed into them anyway. Pulling on a t-shirt with holes worn all around the neck, she opened the top drawer of her garage-sale dresser and took out her skinning knife and sheath. She tested the knife for sharpness, then slipped her belt through the sheath loop and strapped it to her side. Lacing up her boots caused her to huff and puff a little, increasing her worry that she wasn't in good enough condition to make the squad. She hurriedly pushed that thought away and trotted out of her room. Her brother was in the bathroom so she decided not to wash up and brush her hair-she didn't think the squirrels would mind.

Uncle Tim was always hunting. He was a drum-maker and craftsman, invariably screeching the tires on his pickup truck and swerving over to the shoulder to stop and pick up some roadkill for its hide or feathers. He'd been taking her with him since she was five years old, teaching her where to look for game, how to sit quietly and watch, and when and how to move. Most days he didn't even shoot his gun. He only killed if they needed the meat, and even being poor, that wasn't too often. Grandma Lottie always encouraged him to bring home meat, saying it was better for them than government Commods, but Tim really didn't enjoy killing. He preferred to “hunt clean.” Sometimes he brought his Nikon instead of his single-shot twenty-two rifle, but today they were really hunting.

Six-water squirrel was her Grandma's favorite meal, besides elk. Nana would put the quartered squirrels in her cast iron pot, flavor them with seasoning, then cover them with water. Then she'd put the heavy lid on the pot and boil off the water until there was just enough left under the squirrel to keep it from burning. She'd add water five more times until the squirrel was tender and juicy. Ohshinnah had never been that impressed by the taste of squirrel, but she had to admit it was edible.

She let her Uncle wander off into the lodgepole following the squeaks that indicated the location of a squirrel and drifted down by the river, startling the sentry ducks watching for danger. They immediately took flight as she sat down on a rock, feeling the hard cold through her jeans. The smell of the water and vegetation filled her nose and she breathed deeply, letting the frustrations of her life slip away. Almost immediately a shot rang out from the northeast.

She stood slowly and listened for any further gunfire. The forest remained silent so she began picking her way in that direction. After a few minutes walk she saw the bright orange of her uncle's jacket ahead. He always hated wearing the bright color, insisting that it seemed ridiculous to be hunting by making oneself impossible not to be seen by the game you were hunting! He'd only given in when a number of local people had been accidentally shot in the area by other "hunters". As she got closer she could see him sitting on a rock looking down at his feet. A gray squirrel lay between them. He was praying. She knelt silently and waited for his prayer of gratitude and good wishes for the squirrel families to end.

Uncle looked at her for a long moment and said gently, "I guess I don't really feel like hunting today after all."

He reached down and gently stroked the fur of his victim. Ohshinnah carefully picked it up and carried it back to the river where she skinned, cleaned and dressed the squirrel as he had taught her. She took one last deep breath and trotted back to the truck, knowing that her Uncle would be waiting. He sat in the driver's seat silently starring straight ahead for a long moment as she climbed in and placed the skin and quartered pieces of the squirrel in a paper shopping bag.

He looked at her apologetically. "Sorry I got you up so early..."

He trailed off without finishing his sentence. She could see that something was bothering him.

" I'm worried about your brother", he said abruptly. "I see some of the same things happening to him at school that happened to me. I'm afraid he's not going to make it."

Ohshinnah nodded in agreement but didn't speak.

"I know a lot of people here still don't care much about education but its the only way we've got a chance to save what's important of ourselves and our way while still making it in this modern madness."

He shifted the truck roughly into reverse, grinding the gears mercilessly and backing out through the trees onto the dirt road that led back toward the Rez. He didn't speak at all on the way and Ohshinnah knew to respect his silence and keep to her own thoughts. When they reached her Nana Lottie's cabin, he waited until she got out, gave her a sad look of affection, and drove off as she walked toward the broken porch steps.

The next few days of cheer-leading tryouts were a nightmare. She was quite capable of doing everything that was asked of her, despite her extra pounds, and even earned the coach's praise for her enthusiasm and winning smile. Her moves were crisp and her form correct most of the time, even if her jumps weren't as high as the other girls. But the worst part was the attitude of her teammates. They treated her like she wasn't there, constantly crowding her toward the back of any line and purposely pushing her toward the back where the coaches had a harder time seeing her. There was even some mean-spirited laughter and whispered words about her size when she tried to do the cartwheels, jumps and splits--even though technically she performed them well.

By the end of the second day she was nearly ready to fight or break down in tears. Even Coach Farley's announcement that she had made the team didn't lift her spirits. She sat silently on the bus as her brother was being harassed in the back, at least until he defended himself and was promptly kicked off the bus. She got off with him, giving the bus driver an earful and a scornful look, and they walked the rest of the way home together. He didn't say a word except to say it was embarrassing that she had berated the bus driver and gotten off with him; not acknowledging for a second that she had done it to support him against his tormentors. That was always how it was. He never saw her attempts to defend or help him positively. It seemed an added humiliation to him that his sister had taken it on herself to be his "protector" and he resented her for it.

Ohshinnah couldn't help herself. She really hated the way he was being treated and could see how much it hurt him. His grades had fallen to the lowest point they'd ever been and he hadn't even bothered trying out for football, even though he was one of the best up-and-coming quarterbacks in the Conference. He could throw a perfect spiral fifty yards and run the option as effectively as any of the best scrambling QB's in the league. His coaches had tried to help him get tutoring but it was too late. She was afraid he was going to fall into the traps so many young Skins did on the Rez--no pride, no esteem, no drive, no ambition, no hope.

That weekend the Tribe was holding its elections and she had volunteered to help at the meeting. The tedious calling out of the roll to establish voter presence was excruciating. Many of the members had driven long distances and were tired and cranky, eager to get on with the day's business, get their checks, and be off. There was the general argument about the election committee and complaints about the nominating process but the current crop of elected leaders brushed by most of those issues, deflecting the criticism--valid or not--and pushing the meeting forward to the voting. In a couple of hours it was over. You could tell by the tight looks on many of the tribal members' faces that they were unhappy and concerned about the whole process, but no one had any answers about how to make it better.

The family that dominated the leadership had done so for almost three generations and the opposing families had never been able to unite in a strong enough base to challenge them. This didn't mean that these leaders hadn't done anything valuable for the Tribe, but they were perceived to be untrustworthy and were generally thought to be in it for their own egos and financial enrichment.

Her Auntie Pug was running for Tribal Treasurer and her Uncle Pops as a member-at-large, but she could tell just by the tone of the meeting that most of the members weren't looking for, or didn't believe, change was possible. They were just there of their hundred dollar attendance check.

The BIA, as a policy, stayed out of Tribal elections unless there was a documented complaint. Even when that happened the original results were rarely overturned. About the only time Tribes could count on the BIA to step in on behalf of individual Native rights was when a criminal complaint proved to be valid. All the rest of the time, members were subject to the decisions of their elected officials, or the momentary whims of the General Council. The guarantee of legal voting processes, justice, and fairness depended more on the character of those elected to serve than the power of a General Council/Tribal Council system that might be corrupt, self-serving, or even incompetent...just like the U.S. Government.

Ohshinnah was old enough to know that her family wasn't among the "leadership family clique" that ruled the Rez, but she also knew that they were still lucky to have the General Council as a last truly democratic tool-- if it could be harnessed and made to work effectively as a representative body! Many Tribes had given over all power to elected councils and when it came to important issues like dis-enrollment, use of per capita, or other important decisions, the People had little voice, less power, and virtually no one to enforce their individual rights-- tribal, American, or otherwise. Sovereignty sometimes succeeded for the Tribe, but failed to protect individual members' rights. She knew that's just how things worked in twenty-first century Indin Country.

Osh got out of the meeting around five PM and went with a few of her cousins to the Pizza Place in town to eat. No one said much. She was tired and depressed and despite her promise to herself that she would watch what she ate, she plowed into the Pizza and ended eating almost half. Osh and her friend Maria were just finishing their pitcher of root beer when a buzzing in her pocket reminded her she had her cell phone on vibrate. She pulled out her phone and saw she had nine voice-mails. The numbers were from her Mom and her Grandma. Her pulse sped up and her hands shook as she dialed her Mom. There wasn't any answer so she hung up and immediately called her Grandma.

"Hello?", she said, when someone picked up but didn't speak. She could hear someone wailing in the background and her stomach muscles tightened in anticipatory shock and anticipation. "Hey!", she said again, "Is anybody there? What's happened?"

A moment later a voice came on the phone, very low and subdued. It took her a moment to recognize her Nana's voice. It was grave and tight.

"Ohshinnah?"

"Yes, Nana."

"You have to come home right now. Something's happened. Something bad."

"Nana, tell me what's going on!"

"Just come home now", her Grandmother replied, her voice sounding even more strained and worn.

Then the call was abruptly dropped.

Ohshinnah raced her bicycle home and burst through the front door. The room was filled with relatives all looking shocked and grief-stricken. She searched frantically for her Mom or her Nana but neither was in the front room. She pushed by a number of relatives to the kitchen where she found them clinging to each other sobbing uncontrollably. Her mother saw her first and broke the embrace to draw her close to them.

"What's happened!", Oshinnah said, dreading the answer.

"It's your brother, Trips, and Stevie."

Trips was their cousin, a year older than Sahli, but Stevie had just moved with his Mother about mile away to live with his Auntie, who was from another ReZ. Osh didn't know much about him except that she'd heard he was a stoner and maybe a tweaker. Her mother took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom, chasing out two cousins playing an X-Box on the floor beside the bed.

"Your brother went with Trips to stay over at Stevie's. I guess Steve's Auntie had an appointment at Tribal Health. Somehow they found a bottle of his mom's liquid Methadone and each of them drank some. Stevie's mom came home and found all three passed out. Trips was just conscious enough to tell her what they'd done, but Stevie and your brother were unresponsive when the ambulance finally got there. They're all in intensive care right now. No one knows what's going to happen." She wiped away another flow of tears from her eyes and put her head on Ohshinnah's shoulder.

"Methadone?" Ohshinnah hadn't heard of any Natives OD-ing on methadone before. "Why was it there?"

"I guess his Mom was shooting heroin where they came from and came down here to try and get away from it. They gave her methadone. They say she's been clean for about a month but the bottle was still there."

"But how did the boys know about it?"

Her Mom looked at her with pursed lips.

"You think teenage boys don't know everything that's going on with their parents; where they're stashes are and whatnot?"

Osh realized she was right. There were very few secrets on the ReZ, both inside families and out.

"When are you going back to the hospital cause I wanna go?"

"I was just waiting 'til you got here, we'll go now."

After giving her Grandma a long hug, Ohshinnah and her mother got in their old Ford Mustang and drove to the hospital. Seeing her brother through the ICU glass with all the tubes and medical equipment hooked up to him caused her eyes to well up with tears. She brushed them away angrily, beginning to feel the familiar emotion she knew was building up inside her. Her mother stood beside her, weeping softly. After awhile a nurse came out and asked them to follow her to a consultation room where a doctor appeared. He stood quietly for a moment, seemingly waiting for their questions. When none came, he launched into what seemed to be a well-rehearsed speech. Her brother was in the worst shape of the three. He'd make it, but he'd have to be there a couple of days. The other two were conscious and responding well. They'd probably be released in the morning.

"Can I stay with him", her mother asked?

The Doctor shook his head. "Not in the ICU. We expect him to be moved from there to a room in the early morning, but you're welcome to stay in our guest facility. I'll make the arrangements." He gestured to the nurse standing by and repeated what he had just told them.

"I'm going to go home, Mom", Ohshinnah whispered. "I can't stay here and see him like this."

"Okay, you go and comfort your Nana, I'll call if there are any changes."

They hugged again for a long moment, then Qhshinnah hurried away. As she was leaving she saw another group of relatives--Aunts, Uncles, Cousins--entering the hospital, all coming in to check on her brother and the other boys. She stepped into an adjoining hall as they passed and none of them saw her. She didn't feel like talking to anyone. After they passed by, she hurried out the Ford and drove home to be with her Nana. That night, her dreams were filled with death songs and funerals.

The next morning she went back to the hospital with her Nana and was overjoyed to see her brother awake and sitting up in a regular room. Osh was careful not to show her concern; that was just how their relationship worked. She knew he was ashamed of what had happened but also angry that he was in the cross-hairs of so many relatives, taking criticism as well as concern. He didn't handle criticism very well. He gave her a nod and she forced a quick hug on him before she told her Mom she was going to school. Her Mom and Nana hugged her again and she hurried out of the hospital into the bright early September sunlight. The air was crisp and smelled good to her as she walked the mile and a half to Brandon High.

It was lunch hour and the cafeteria was buzzing. She'd gotten out of class late and could tell by the energy in the room that something was going on. She wove her way through the tables of students to one of the tables where Native students gathered and plopped her books down on the table, looking around expectantly for someone to tell her what was happening. She noticed Laticia Bill silently weeping with her head in her hands and sat down next to her putting a consoling arm around her shoulder.

"What's going on Tish?"

Laticia keep her head down and muttered between sobs, "They're both dead!"

Oshinnah's pulse jumped and her hand shook as she picked up her water bottle. She was having a hard time forming the obvious question.

"Who? Who's dead?"

"Trips and Steve."

"No, I don't think so-- they were released from the hospital yesterday!"

Tish raised her head and wailed, "No, they're both dead!"

"But how...?"

Willie Rivera spoke up, his stutter dragging out his reply. "The-the-they we-went h-home and d-d-did it again." He shook his head.

"Did what?" Osh said, dreading the answer.

"They d-d-drank some m-m-more of that same c-c-crap when they g-got home".

"Are you frigging kidding me?"

The entire table looked up, shocked. They had never heard Ohshinnah curse before and that was unusual on the Rez. Almost everyone cursed on a regular basis. After all, one of the first gifts adopted from the colonists was their penchant for swearing. The first words Natives learned in English had been curse words and prayers. But Osh was always so even-tempered and under control that she was an exception.

"They found them about an hour ago," Willie continued. "Auntie Lucky went to the store to get some breakfast stuff and when she got back they were both passed out in the garage. The paramedics actually got there pretty quick...but they were both gone for good this time."

Oshinnah felt overwhelmed. She also felt guilty for her relief that Sahli hadn't been with them. She got up abruptly and went to the library. There she accessed a medical site on the student computer and began to look up methadone and overdoses. She couldn't believe the boys had been so stupid!

As often happens when surfing the net, she found herself drawn to other medical sites and issues. Before she knew it lunch was over. The bell rang but she didn't feel like going to class so she remained in her seat checking out all kinds of medical sites. It was actually very interesting--and kept her mind from wandering where she didn't want it to go. She spent a long time checking out a series of transparent layover pages that detailed the human body. They started with the skeleton, and then, as each succeeding page was laid over another, every aspect of the body followed; first the vascular system, the internal organs, and finally the muscles, cartilage and skin. It was fascinating. Of course she already had a pretty good idea about the internal construction of mammals. She'd been skinning, gutting, and cleaning animals since she was eight years old. When it was time to go to cheer-leading practice she was stiff from sitting and had to seriously stretch. Her mind was still distracted by the tragedy and her own family's brush with it.

Practice started well but went rapidly down hill. Coach Farley was introducing their new pyramid and the music they'd be using to execute it. The Coach and her assistants stood off to the side while the team did its regular routines and practiced fundamentals. Finally, the coaches stepped in and Farley held up a sheet of paper.

"Okay ladies, we've come up with what we think are the best position assignments to guarantee your safety and still have a sharp pyramid. Let's start with the base. At the bottom we've got our four pillars. Lauren, Marcellina, Ohshinnah and Monica."

They was soft grumbling from some of the girls, but Ohshinnah wasn't listening, she was thinking about her brother. He probably wouldn't get to play basketball now. The school had a no-tolerance drug policy, even off the grounds. Once it became common knowledge he'd over-dosed there was no way they'd let him back. She was afraid of what would happen to him now. He was good at all sports, but he lived for hoops. What had he been thinking? Raised voices brought her back to what was happening around her. Coach Farley was engaged in a heated conversation with Rosy Madison, the shapely blond daughter of a local Sheriff.

Finally Rosy said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I don't want her touching me at all! It's bad enough that you let her on the team. The rest of her kind were smart enough not to try out. She's just as crazy and stupid as her brother. I don't want her dirty hands on me. Switch me to the other side!"

Osh noticed all the other players looking at her and realized the white girl was talking about her and objecting to being supported on the second level by Ohshinnah and Monica. Her face flushed and she felt her temper rising. The Coach seemed to be trying to calm the blond girl down and Osh heard her say that Rosy could be on Lauren and Marcellina's side if she wanted. That just made Ohshinnah madder! She had heard the words "dirty Indians" plenty of times before at the school but never had them specifically directed at her. Since she was the only "Indian" on the team (Sarah was considered "white"), the insult couldn't be ignored and she suddenly felt the weight of all the times she'd heard it fall directly onto her shoulders. The weight of the overt racism seemed crushing. Osh walked directly up to Rosy and tapped her gently on the shoulder. When the girl turned and saw who it was, she jerked away violently.

Ohshinnah whispered, "Don't worry Rosy, touching me won't give you a disease, but insulting me and my people will get you this!"

She balled her fist at her side and with all the power she could muster, punched the girl in the middle of her pretty apple-pie face. Blood spurted immediately from Rosy's broken nose and a muted scream escaped her lips. Coach Farley jumped between them but Ohshinnah had already turned and was walking away toward the locker room. She ignored the Coach's order to stop and kept walking, snatching her sports bag off the bench in the dressing room and continuing out the outside gymnasium door into the parking lot. Her mind was racing. She'd really burned that bridge! She rubbed her bruised knuckles as she walked. Compared to her cousins, she hadn't been in too many fights. She'd always been the even-tempered one; difficult to provoke. She supposed it was because of her love/hate relationship with her brother.

As she walked she began to contemplate what the repercussions of that extremely satisfying punch would be. Probably detention at the least, maybe even a suspension. She'd never done anything like this before so she really wasn't sure what would happen. It was sure to surprise a lot of people, not to mention her Mom and Nana...although once she told them what had happened she knew they would understand. It just wasn't something she could let go, nor should she. The days of racism had to pass, whether it was White to Black, White to Red, Red to White, Red to Black and on and on. People were people. Yes, she thought, we can be very different and believe in different things, but we're still just human beings. The further she walked the more convinced she was that she had done the right thing. Quitting the team was quitting a dream she'd had since she was a little girl, but she wasn't a little girl anymore and some things were more important than the dreams of a child.

By the time she'd finished the walk home and entered the house, everyone knew what had happened. "Cell phones!", she thought, shaking her head in disgust. Everybody knew everything immediately these days. One of her cousins from school had texted her Mom and told her what happened. It didn't take her long to convince her Mom that she'd just lost it with all the emotion of the last few days. Her brother had been released and had only been home a half hour when the text had arrived. The school vice-principle had already called to schedule a meeting with Osh and her mother for the next morning. That was what her Mom was most mad about. She'd hated school herself and didn't want to have to go there again, even as an adult.

She peeked into her brother's room and saw he was awake, staring out the window at a sky starting to fill with dark, ominous clouds.

"There's a storm coming," he said softly. He turned his head to look at her then raised his hand and poked his thumb toward the ceiling. "Heard about your sucker punch. Wish I coulda been there. I never seen you fight a girl before, just me!" He grinned a half grin for a second, then the blank grim stare took over again and he turned back to the window.

"You know what you did was stupid right?" Ohshinnah couldn't stop herself. "It hurt Nana and Mom a lot. We all thought you were smarter than that." She immediately regretted saying the last part, so she went on hurriedly before he could reply. "Both Trips and Steve are gone. Steve's mom tried to hang herself in the garage when she got home and found them. She's in critical condition. What were you guys thinking?"

She tightened her lips to shut herself up. After a long moment he shrugged, still staring out the window at the yellowing leaves blowing off the trees outside.

"Just looking for a high", he finally spoke quietly. "A way to get outside ourselves for awhile. I hate my life. I just wanted to forget about it for awhile. Stevie said it would be like a strong downer. We were gonna kick back and play video games all night. Only thing was, he didn't know how much we should take."

"But why did they go back again after they almost died the first time, and why was there still methadone where they could get it?"

"His mom had bottles of it all over the place. I don't know why they did it again, but if I'd been with them, who knows, maybe I'd be dead too!"

"Don't say that," Osh snapped. "Things are bad enough here on the Rez without you guys offing yourselves for no reason! We've done real well with suicide here compared to other places."

"Ah, but us Indins always got a reason, enit?"

Ohshinnah knew when he started using slang from the seventies and eighties that the conversation wouldn't go anywhere so she just said, "I'm glad you're alive Sahli. I really am." She turned and walked to her room and shut the door.

"I love you too, Sis," he said, after she was gone.

The next morning it was raining hard and the air smelled heavy and felt oppressive. Their meeting in the Office was quick and to the point. Seeing as the girl she hit was a Sheriff's daughter, the school administration had had to agree to suspend Ohshinnah for a week, with another month of detentions. By doing that, Rosy's father agreed not to press charges. Osh's mom thanked the vice-principal and principal for negotiating on her behalf, but Ohshinnah thought they'd probably done it more for their own interests than hers. If the charges had been filed, the newspaper would have found out and there would most certainly have been an article published about school violence and student safety that would have reflected badly on the school.

Ohshinnah spent her week of suspension at home helping her Nana with the daily chores, making frybread for the Saturday night Elder's dinners at the community center, and helping get the snack bar set up for the Native basketball league playing at the Brandon High Gym on Sunday afternoons. The League was playing now, before the high school basketball season began and they'd have to go back to the old concrete floor of their community center gymnasium. When she had a moment, she took the family laptop to her bedroom and continued looking at medical sites, especially first aide and emergency services. Even after she returned to school, she kept pretty much to herself, spending more time in the library reading books about her new medical interests.

Osh avoided the Friday night football craze, except for working on the Rez float for homecoming in October. Actually it was the Junior Class float but the Natives in that class had helped build it the past two years and they had a good working relationship with the non-Natives. Osh unrolled what seemed like a thousand yards of streamers, and glued and painted until she thought she'd probably lost a million brain cells from breathing the fumes in the garage where they were building it, even with the door open.

She thought of the "huffers" that gathered in the ravine behind the Tribal gas station and convenience store on the Rez. Her Auntie often went down there and passed out sandwiches to those intent on slowly destroying themselves by huffing paint thinner, paint, glue and anything else they could think of to get high. She'd accompanied her Aunt once as she'd climbed down the steep hillside to walk in the arroyo littered with spray paint cans and other garbage. She never forget the bright, glazed looks in the eyes of the men and women gathered there, sitting by themselves or in groups. There wasn't much conversation, but there were a few smiles of gratitude when the sandwiches were passed out. It was very sad, and as each generation passed or moved on, another one seemed to take its place. Not always with the same drug, but always with a spirit that required dependency. She didn't know if it would ever end or if her people would ever recover...but if and when they finally did, how much would be left of who they had once been was impossible to know.

Halloween came and went, and the football season mercifully wound down. Without Sahli, the team hadn't finished nearly as well as they had hoped. That just made it worse on him in school as his ex-teammates blamed him for their poor season and redoubled their efforts to humiliate him and get him in trouble at school. They had learned that with his temperament all they had to do was provoke him quietly and his reaction would be loud enough to draw attention to himself in a way that led the teacher to think he was the instigator of the problem. He didn't actually spend much time in detention but was regularly ridiculed and criticized by both his teachers and his peers. Ohshinnah still stood up for him when she knew he wasn't around or wouldn't hear about it, knowing he hated it when she tried to help.

He'd started to play in the adult basketball league as soon as he recovered and her family had been attending all the games. Native basketball games were different from non-Native games. At non-Native games it was all about the game, about winning and losing, about my team versus yours. At Indin games and tournaments there were always rivalries but it was more about the relationship of a community gathered in the gym. Lots of people only watched the game as a sideshow as they gabbed, joked, laughed, and hooted. Food was the unifying factor, as it had always been at Indin gatherings, especially since it was always plentiful and delicious.

The prayer was said by Millie Sam, one of the last of their Tribe to speak their language fluently. Everyone was worried about her passing on, but no one had stepped forward to try and learn anything from her.

A relative from California, Yolanda, had brought dried seaweed for the dinner, which many ate for the first time. Ohshinnah's Grandfather on her Mom's side had been part Pomo, so she spent the evening grilling Yoli about the people there, how they lived, and if they were that different from the people here. Ohshinnah loved the crisp, salty green strips with the ocean smell. Yolanda had also brought a number of fresh salmon, which were grilled over coals in foil and were the first dish to be eaten.

The Elders ate first, as was customary, then the children and families, then the couples and individuals. That's the way it seemed to be everywhere in Indin Country, Osh thought. She'd just finished preparing and serving what seemed like her one-hundredth Indin Taco when she saw her brother make a steal at mid-court and outrun the defense for a layup. She couldn't keep from cheering with the people watching in the stands. Here on the Rez, Sahli was accepted. He might be teased, made fun of, even criticized, but never in a mean-spirited way. Here, everybody was subject to the same treatment and virtually no one got away unscathed. At half-time they did one of the many uniquely Indin games developed to entertain the crowd--the sneaker kick. The competitors stood at the baseline, untied the laces of one of their tennis shoes, got the shoe loosely clinging to their foot and, when it was their turn, snap-kicked the shoe off toward the opposite goal utilizing their big toe to direct and guide their effort. The one whose shoe went the farthest was the winner and received a gag prize, usually a bottle of foot powder or athletes-foot creme, or whatnot. The winner held the nickname "Big-Toe" until the next contest was held. A chubby twelve year old named Eugene kicked his the farthest this time and was half-raised onto the shoulders of his competitors until one tripped over his unlaced shoe and they all fell into a heap at half-court. It took about twenty minutes to settle the crowd and get the court cleared for the second half, but by then the food was gone and Osh was furiously scrubbing pans and helping with the cleanup in the kitchen. Just as she was about to leave, her Uncle Tim came up and gave her a hug. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath was heavy with alcohol. She was shocked to see him this way. He'd been successfully on the wagon for two years. She hugged him at arms distance and could just barely make out what he was saying through his alcohol induced slur.

"Wanna go hunting morrow?" He peered at her as if he was having a hard time keeping her in focus, weaving where he stood, and cocked his head to the side. "You drive."

Ohshinnah hesitated, then nodded her assent. He brushed the top of her head the way he had done since she was a child and staggered away. She knew he'd come with her Uncle Jack, so at least he wasn't driving himself! By the time she got home she was exhausted and fell into bed like a chain-sawed tree in the forest, bouncing and already asleep when she hit.

She woke up late on Saturday morning, surprised that her Uncle wasn't sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee or striding into her room and jumping up and down on her bed to get her up. She ate a bowl of cereal, put on her coat and went outside to sit on the porch. The weather had turned and small flakes of snow fell from a low-hanging steel-gray bank of clouds. She didn't wait long before his truck came weaving up the road. Before she even opened the door she could smell the alcohol.

"Why don't you come in for some coffee, Uncle?" she said hopefully.

"Nah, we gotta get going Hon. It's already late and they're predicting this snow is gonna get a lot worse before tonight. I wanna see if I can get two or three of the grays today. I got a craving for squirrel!"

He smiled a twisted smile and Ohshinnah returned it. He didn't seem too drunk.

"I'm driving, remember?" she said. She approached the drivers side and opened the door. "Scoot over Unc."

He grumbled as he slid over to the passenger side, but by the time they left the main road heading into the mountains he had fallen asleep with his head against the hard glass of the window and the metal side of the door.

They reached the river turnout where they always started their hunts about forty-five minutes later. Osh got out and slammed her door as hard as she could. Her Uncle's head shot up as if they'd crashed.

"Jesus, girl! You're gonna stop my heart doing crap like that."

He gave her a disapproving look and then stepped to the back of the truck. Pulling his 22 rifle from its scabbard and strapping on his hunting bag he took a few deep breaths and started off toward the river. Ohshinnah stood where she was. He stopped.

"You coming?"

"Didn't you forget something, Uncle?"

His expression was perplexed as he tried to remember what it might be. "I don't think so...", he said, trailing off uncertainly.

"Tobacco?" Ohshinnah said.

His eyes brightened. "Taught you well, haven't I?"

He walked around to the passenger side and opened the glovebox. He rifled through it once, then again, then again. He frowned and mumbled to himself.

"Humpf. Wonder what happened to it."

He stood uncertainly for a minute then shrugged his shoulders and looked at her sheepishly.

"Guess I used it all up last time and forgot to put some in. You wouldn't happen to...?" He trailed off when he saw the look on her face. "No, you don't smoke and I'm glad for that. Tobacco should be for ceremony only unless you grow your own", he lectured. "Well, I'll make sure I make an offering at home before we cook them, OK?"

Ohshinnah shrugged. She didn't feel comfortable at all with what was happening. Here Uncle Tim was, ready to go off hunting while still partially drunk, and on top of that he had forgotten his offering. He hadn't even checked the rifle to see if it was loaded!

"Are you coming?", he said.

She shook her head side to side. "Nah, I think I'm going down by the river for awhile. When I hear your shots, I'll come to you."

He nodded and set off down the trail toward the northwest. She headed directly west toward the river. At this elevation the pines were huge but spaced apart and there was a beautiful meadow between her and the river. She heard the faint bugling of a bull elk in the late November haze. She could smell the dank mustiness of the river from here. She sat down about twenty feet from the water on a disintegrating log, hugging her knees to her chest for warmth in the chill morning air.

Her thoughts were of her brother. With two of his friends gone-on from their second go-round with methadone, she wasn't sure how he was going to react to going back to school on Monday. She could imagine how the rest of the students that hated him would react and felt the compassion for him rising up to fill her eyes with tears. She wiped them away and thought about what she was going to do now that she wasn't cheer-leading. Thanksgiving was coming fast.

She smiled as she thought about her Grandfather's story about how Thanksgiving was just another manufactured American holiday myth to unite unrelated peoples. He said that an annual event never happened and the one time the Puritans and the Natives sat down to eat was when the newcomers were starving with only a meager harvest and the Natives stepped in to see their neighbors didn't starve. Most of the gathering prayers by the white ministers and clergy centered on giving thanks for the destruction of the Natives, not unity with them! The whole story of those first days of the occupation of the East had been twisted and contorted in a historical sense that kept most Americans totally in the dark about their history and the real circumstances of violence that the Pilgrims perpetrated on Natives over and over again during that time. After her Grandfather had passed, no one told the true history at the family gatherings anymore and their holiday was becoming more and more like those held by non-Indins located across the Nation.

Her musing was interrupted by a single gunshot to the North. She slowly rose and brushed her rear end off before walking into the forest about thirty yards from where the river made a sharp western turn and the open space and tall pines diminished into a dense, almost thicket-like concentration of lodgepole ranging from a few inches in diameter to ten inch, pole-like, pine trees. Often these were harvested for use as fence posts, corral poles, arbors and other commercial and non-commercial uses. The Tribe used them for tipi poles as well. Ohshinnah remembered her Grandpa working in the back of their old family cabin, stripped to waist and sweating heavily as he drew a razor-sharp draw knife down the length of a pine, stripping the bark in long curled strips and leaving the bright almost-yellowish inner bark to dry in the sun. As he finished each one, he stood them up and leaned them into the fork of a buckeye tree by the shed.

She heard a funny noise up ahead that sounded like a human cry and picked up her pace. The hair on her arms stood up and she shivered. A bad feeling washed over her and she hurried even faster, weaving her way in and out of the trees, leaping felled logs, and brushing back low hanging branches.

When she had gone about as far as she thought her Uncle would have gone, she stopped and cupped her hands around her mouth.

"Uncle. Where are you?"

There was no answer and she called again.

"Say something so I can find you."

Again there was no answer. Her pulsed jumped and she knew in her gut that something was wrong. She turned east and began climbing a slight rise when she heard a faint groan to her left. Hurrying in that direction she glimpsed the red handkerchief her uncle tied around his shaggy head. She could see the rest of him lying on his stomach in the brush. As she reached him and circled to where she could see him clearly, she caught her breath and stood for a moment in shock. He was lying face down on the opposite side of a large felled tree. She leaped over the tree to his side and immediately noticed that his left pant leg was drenched in blood.

"Uncle. Uncle can you hear me?"

When he didn't respond she turned him over gently and was surprised to find his rifle underneath him. She moved it away from them and tried to find the wound. It was somewhere in his left leg. He was still unconscious when she undid his belt and started to slide his pants down over his narrow hips. His underwear was completely soaked with blood as well. She shifted position and pulled his pants down a little more. Instantly she could see blood pumping in short, regular spurts from the inside of his left thigh. She knew from deer hunting that the femoral artery was located there and immediately recognized that he was in danger of bleeding to death. She tried to remember the emergency first aide chapter she'd hurriedly skipped over in PE. She recalled something about putting pressure on the wound and something about the use of a belt as a tourniquet. She undid his belt buckle and, loop by loop, pulled off his belt. She wrapped the belt as high up around his leg as she could, then slipped the end back through the buckle and drew it tight. The pumping subsided a little but the flow of blood still seemed massive. She felt overwhelmed, weak, and confused. She didn't know what to do! Should she run back to the truck where she knew there might be cell phone coverage or should she stay with him and try to do more for the wound. He stirred a little and she saw him open his eyes.

"Uncle, can you hear me? What happened? What should I do?"

His eyes focused on hers and his mouth twisted in a wry smile.

"Just a stupid mistake", he said, so weakly she could barely make it out. "I propped the 22 up on the opposite side of the tree and when I jumped over it I caught the pocket of my open jacket on the tip of the front sight and it fell underneath me and went off. Shoulda kept the safety on, huh?" He tried to raise his head to see his leg. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"I think you hit your artery."

"Too bad". He lowered his head back onto the ground and gazed skyward. "What a stupid way to die."

"Don't say that", she scolded weakly, "You're gonna be fine. What should I do?"

"Run back to the truck and call I guess." His voice was a whisper now.

"I'll be right back", she said forcefully, "you stay awake, promise?" Her voice trembled noticeably on that last word.

"I love you Osh," he said, "but I'm feelin' pretty tired. Go on now...and don't worry."

Ohshinnah stood up fighting an inner battle. Should she leave him or not? It was her only chance to save him, but it was a good ten minutes back to the truck and an easy hour for the paramedics to get there. She knew in her heart he wouldn't last long at the rate he was bleeding out. She felt helpless and terribly afraid. She knelt at his side again, brushing his long bangs out of eyes and back from his forehead. He opened his eyes again and saw her face close to his.

"I'm glad you decided to stay," he said softly. "Hold my hand and help me pass over. You know what to say."

Tears started to pour down her cheeks.

"Why did this happen?" she asked.

"I was stupid and careless. Sometimes that's all it takes. But you're here with me and there's no one else I'd rather be with right now."

He sighed heavily and winced as he tried to shift his weight. She ripped off her jacket and folded it underneath his head.

"I want you to promise me you'll do great things in your life. Our people need strong women like you."

Ohshinnah tried to respond but her voice failed from too much emotion and all she could do was sob and nod.

"Guess I shouldn't a been drinkin', huh? Maybe I wouldn't have forgotten my tobacco. Kharma."

He smiled again, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Ohshinnah held his hand tightly. After a moment she could sense a change all around her and she put her ear to his chest. She couldn't detect a heartbeat. She felt for a pulse in his neck. Nothing.

"Uncle? Uncle!" she cried, but she knew he was gone.

She placed both his hands on his chest, kissed him on the cheek and said the words he had taught her to say over the squirrels and occasional deer they had hunted together.

"Spirit, fly free. Four days is your journey. Look back and pity us. Speak to the Grandfathers and ask them to help us, for our People have lost their way." Then she added, "Go easily Uncle. I will remember you."

She sat for a few minutes in sorrow, shock, and respect. Wiping her cheeks, she slowly walked back to truck. She got cell phone reception right away and called 911. Then she called her Nana's house. No one was home so she left a short message on the machine that she had very bad news and she would see them in a few hours. She intended to accompany her Uncle's body all the way back to the hospital so as to make the arrangements for it to be picked up by the Tribal Elders. They would take care of all the rest. The Tribe had an MOU with County authorities to take care of their dead in their own way.

Osh had an impulse to take the rifle and throw it in the river, but then had second thoughts. Undoubtedly the Tribal Police would want to do a cursory investigation and the last thing she needed now would be a repetitive questioning about the accident.

She waited for the fire truck and the ambulance to arrive. It was almost an hour and twenty minutes later when she led them to him and stood aside as they took off the belt and loaded his body on the backboard. It took four men to carry him out. She rode with him to the hospital and then waited for William Billie to relieve her to hold vigil until they could move the body to the gymnasium to be taken care of by the Elder Women and hold the wake and social gathering that would mark his passing.

There had been a bitter argument through the years between the Catholic Christians on the Rez and some of the Traditionals about whether burial in the town Cemetery was appropriate or whether the Tribe should conduct their own arrangements in the Old Way. Eventually it came down to a disagreement between those who were practicing Catholics and those who believed in burial and those who either believed in cremation or the Tribe's Ancestral practices. Uncle Tim had been in the latter group.

When Ohshinnah got home late that night she made sure she gave everyone a hug, including her brother, then went directly to her room and fell into bed without even changing into her nightgown. She slept until late Sunday afternoon. She woke to find Sahli sitting on the end of her bed, watching her silently.

"Feel like going to a party, Sis? Maybe it'll get your mind off...all this," he finished lamely.

Ohshinnah started to say no, then abruptly changed her mind. "Why the hell not!" she said out loud.

Her brother cocked his head and looked at her curiously. "Well, you should get ready then," he said, getting up from the bed.

"Where are we going," she asked.

"Out to Chimney Rock. Baddie's got a keg and I know Ricardo's got some weed."

He knew she seldom drank or smoked but maybe this was a way for her to let go some of her grief. She kept everything so bottled up inside.

"You need to let loose for a change."

She nodded absently as he headed for the kitchen. Osh took a long hot shower, just finishing her hair before the water turned cold. She dried her brown skin, thinking of the last party she'd been to with Sahli.

It had been a number of years back, in seventh grade, at an all night event for students at the Knock'em Down bowling alley. She had initially gone there with Ivonne Santos, a Latino girl she was friends with from school, but they got separated almost immediately and she ended up with three Rez girls. Two of the girls were her cousins. She got along very well with Sticks, but she didn't like Raylene at all...and she knew the feeling was mutual.

Raylene and another girl, Margie, were loudly talking smack about all the white kids as Osh and Sticks stood by silently. The two other girls giggled whenever what they were saying attracted one of their targets attention and looked back at Ohshinnah. Osh felt uncomfortable under their gaze. She knew they were just acting out to bug her. It was like being looked at by a couple of hungry lions with a plan to finish off their prey.

Margie chin-pointed toward the snack bar, nudged Raylene, and said, "Look at that! Chocolate Boy is getting out these days."

Ohshinnah looked through the crowd and saw Jaylen, a Black transfer student from Texas, sitting down with a box of fries and a drink at one of the tiny circular tables. He'd just enrolled at their school a couple of weeks ago. To her, he was a very attractive boy, but shy and kinda nerdy. He was in a couple of her classes and they sat together in one of them.

"Hey Osh," Margie said earnestly, "You two should get together. You're about as dark as him."

Ohshinnah felt her face flush as she fumbled for something to say. Her hands clenched into fists. Sticks seemed to be in shock as Raylene laughed loudly. That pissed Osh off even more.

She stepped forward, ready to pound on Margie. With a stern look at her cousin Raylene, Ohshinnah pushed her chest right up against Margie's round front.

"I'm gonna flatten your coffee and cream face, tipi creeper."

A look of fear filled Margie's face. She backed up quickly with her arms in the air as if she didn't want to fight, then her expression changed to fury and she lept at Ohshinnah with her hands open, her long fingernails extended. Osh was ready for her. She waited until Margie was almost on her then quickly stepped to the side. Margie turned toward her, dropping her inside guard. Osh front-kicked her in the solar plexus, then quickly followed that with a left-right combination to the sides of Margie's defenseless face as she was falling forward, gasping for air. The girl feel heavily to the floor, blood streaming from her nose. Raylene quickly knelt at Margie's side as Ohshinnah stormed toward the entrance doors. Sticks followed her out hurriedly.

"Wow, Cous! You're turning into a regular Mohammed Ali. What's got into you? What are you gonna do now, it's fifteen miles back to the Rez and our ride doesn't leave for another hour?"

"Would you go in and find Sahli and see if he can find a ride for me?" Osh looked around the parking lot helplessly.

Sticks nodded and trotted into the bowling alley. Five minutes later Sahli came outside.

"What's up, Sneakers", he asked.

She could tell he was drunk already. He only called her Sneakers when he was loaded. It was a joke from their childhood. When she was only three, her brother found her and their dog Fang chewing on a dirty old tennis shoe in the laundry room. He knew she hated for him to call her that.

"Go back inside Sahli. I gotta find a ride home."

Ohshinnah noticed a big Native man standing about ten feet away, leaning against the front of his Toyota truck. He stepped slowly away from the truck and walked toward them, holding out his hand to Sahli.

"I'm Tommy Plouffe. From Flathead". He saw the confused look on their faces. "You know, Montana? I heard what you said and I can give you a ride home. What did he call you? Sneakers?"

"That's not my name," Osh snapped. She sighed and looked out toward the horizon, in the direction of the Rez. "What do you think Sticks? she said, ignoring the fact that the man was standing right beside them. "Do you know this guy?"

Sticks shook her head from side to side.

"Ya spins da wheel, ya takes your chances," Sahli said from the shadows where he had been vomiting loudly.

The big man, Tommy, reached out slowly to tap her on the shoulder.

"I'll get you home safe, trust me." There was something reassuring about his tone and expression.

"Oh, what the hell!" Ohshinnah felt a little more at ease as she walked around to the passenger side of his truck.

"I'll text you as soon as I'm home," she yelled at Sticks, more for the big man's benefit than anything else.

Twenty minutes later they pulled up to the front of the cabin. Ohshinnah looked at Tommy gratefully and stuck out her hand.

"Thanks." she said simply.

He smiled, nodded, and waited until she reached the stairs to the front porch before slowly turning around and driving away.

Osh hoped that this party wouldn't end up like that one, but she felt out-of-place the moment they got to the kegger. Her brother was drunk almost immediately and once again she knew she'd have to find a way home by herself. There were only two other girls there that were from the Rez and a couple more non-Natives from town. The girls from town were really drunk already and the guys were circling around them like vultures. A bonfire was blazing away near the rocks at the edge of the lookout just below what the locals called "Chimney Rock" or "The Chimney". She sat down cross-legged before the fire and put her head in her hands. A hand appeared over her shoulder holding a large plastic cup filled with beer. She tilted her head to the side and the wide smile of her brother came into view. He was weaving back and forth as he stood, beer sloshing out of the cup onto the ground as he swayed. He seemed to be gloating over the fact that she was there since he was the one known for hard partying and whatnot.

"Don't look so happy," she grumbled, as she took the cup from him, "You already have your idiot smile on."

He gave her a quick finger, but his smile stayed in place as he drifted off into the darkness.

She gazed around the circle of faces gathered by the fire. She knew them all. None of them seemed to be enjoying themselves. Few of them had much to be happy about. Most of their parents were tweakers or alcoholics and only a couple were still in school. Those that had dropped out weren't working and had plenty of time to get in trouble or worse, fall into the depths of depression that, on the Rez, often ended in suicide or a stint in what they called "Indin college", which meant prison. She got up a couple of times to get a refill but always found her way back to fire. Suddenly there was a commotion behind her and she heard a girl shouting, then screaming in the darkness. She jumped up, noticing that no one else moved at all. She tried to determine where the now muffled screams were coming from and decided it was up on the ridge crest. There were two trails to the top of the "Chimney", one left, one right. The screams had stopped but she could still hear noises as she chose the path to the right and bent forward to start the difficult climb to where the brushy area above the lookout began. She felt a hand on her ankle and glanced behind her. It was Sahli. He wasn't smiling now.

"Don't get into it, Sis."

"What do you mean don't get into it?" she barked angrily, "Someone's getting hurt up there!"

"It dangerous for you to go up there. You don't know what you'll find."

"What will I find, Sahli?"

He looked away, as if embarrassed, then shrugged. "You know what's happening, Sis. It happens all the time. They knew it too when they came up here. It's their own fault."

"Nobody deserves to be assaulted. Just because it happens doesn't mean its right, or that we should just sit by and let it happen."

She started to climb again. When she reached the top she glanced back to see Sahli standing where she had left him. He was weaving where he stood and seemed to be trying to decide what he was going to do. She was out of breath and sweating like ice melting from winter icicles on a trailer gutter. Osh continued up the trail that wound through the brush. She could hear rustling up ahead and slowed down to a quiet walk, trying to see ahead in the darkness. She almost ran into someone standing in the trail ahead of her. At the same time, she saw one of the girls from town lying on her back, unconscious and bleeding from her nose and mouth. Her face was already swelling from what looked to Ohshinnah like a vicious beating. A boy was kneeling between her legs, sweating and cursing as he tried to pull down her jeans. Another boy stood behind him giggling. She couldn't see his face, but she knew the one on his knees.

"What do you think you're doing Lorenzo?" she yelled at the boy kneeling down.

He looked up with a shocked expression and stopped what he was doing. His mouth dropped open when he recognized her. The form in front of her turned toward her and she braced herself. She didn't recognize him at all. Without warning he slapped her on the ear with his open palm and then punched her in the stomach with his fist. She bent over and fell to her knees, vomiting forcefully, some of the beer she had just drunk spraying from her nose. She was pushed to the ground on her side and she felt hands pulling at her shirt. trying to rip it open. She kicked out ineffectively as her shirt was torn and the same hands clawed at her bra. She realized she was going to be assaulted and tried to fight back. A huge fist smashed her in the cheek and her surroundings started to spin into darkness as she lost consciousness.

She came to lying on her back, looking up at the stars. Her face felt like she'd been in a boxing match. She reached up to touch her cheek and discovered it was extremely swollen. Her nose was sore and her ear hurt terribly. Her lips were split and bleeding and, as she explored the inside of her mouth with her tongue, she found two loose teeth. All this took only a few seconds and, as real consciousness returned, she sat up and looked around fearfully. There was no one there that she could see.

"I told you not to come up here," came a familiar voice from the shadows.

"They were gonna rape her, Sahli." Osh winced from the pain of speaking. "Is that why the guys come here to party, to take advantage of drunk girls?"

"Sometimes."

"And the rest of you guys just sit back and let it happen?"

He shrugged.

"I'm ashamed of you. I thought you were different from these jerks," she said, groaning with the effort of getting to her feet. She tried to close her shirt but there was only one button left. She buttoned it anyway.

"So what's new. Everybody's always ashamed of me for some reason."

"What happened? When did you get here? Was he...?"

"No," he said, answering her unvoiced question. "I followed you up and...", he held up his knuckles.

Ohshinnah saw that they were bruised, bleeding, and noticeably swollen.

"Thanks," she said simply.

"So-kay. It was my fault you were here to begin with."

"Can we go home now?"

"Yeah. We can go home now."

They slid down the steepest part of the trail on their butts to find the fire abandoned and only a few kids left, passed out and sleeping by the dying embers. None of the crowd of girls and guys, including those from the attack, were there except her Cousin Jelly-B. He was standing next to his truck expectantly.

"Jelly offered to drive us home," Sahli said, walking behind her.

The big Flathead man named Tommy stepped out of the shadows and walked to the side of Jelly's truck. They all stared in surprise. No one had even known he was there.

'I'll take her." He said it so matter of factly that neither Jelly or Sahli objected.

Sahli got into Jelly's truck and said simply, "See you at home Sis," as Jelly stomped on the gas and they watched them disappear down the road.

So," the big man spoke, "how'd you end up with that crowd?"

"My brother."

"Yeah, I guess I can see that. Pretty dangerous though, don't you think?"

"I didn't know it was gonna be like this, but he took care of it."

"Did he?"

Osh felt her face flush as she thought of the girl spread-eagled on the ground and the look on her brother's face as he had stayed at the bottom of the hill while she'd climbed to the ridge. If she hadn't been the one up there, she doubted he would have helped."

Suddenly she was angry.

"Who the hell are you to criticize my brother? Where were you while all that was happening and what were you doing up here anyway?"

"Actually, I just got here a few minutes before you came back down. I checked out the other girl." His expression was grave. "She was definitely assaulted but not beaten up as bad as you. She must not have fought as hard. To answer your questions, we had a girl in the ER a few months ago that almost died from being raped and beaten. She wouldn't tell the cops about it but she talked to me. Since then, I usually hang around near the parties I hear about if I think there's gonna be trouble."

"Why? You some kinda Bruce Lee, gonna save the day?"

"No, I'm a doctor. Where I come from there was never anyone around to help."

The big man hesitated, as if he wanted to say more but stopped himself.

"And being a stranger, no one ever says anything to you?"

"I'm pretty good at staying unnoticed, and those who do usually think I'm someone's ride. Not everybody that comes up here is Native."

"A doctor huh?" Osh was intrigued. "What kind of doctor?"

"General practitioner," he said simply.

Ohshinnah nodded in gratitude as he opened the truck door for her and she climbed into the back seat of the crew cab.

He responded by raising his chin. "You okay?"

"Feel like I've been in a Casino cage fight, but I guess it coulda been worse."

"Good thing your Bro was there."

Osh nodded, not voicing her thought that if not for her brother none of this would have happened. She was furious with Sahli, not about what had happened to her, but for his cruel and callous disregard for a teenage girl when he knew what was going to happen to her.

When they reached home, she patted Tommy on the arm in thanks as he opened the door for her and pushed his seat forward for her to get out.

"Let's not make a habit of this, okay?" he said softly.

Ohshinnah nodded as she hurriedly walked away, feeling embarrassed. Twice now, she'd had to depend on this stranger.

Once inside, she went straight to the bathroom to assess the damage. She decided it wasn't too bad. Osh took a hot shower, doctored the contusions, and filled an icepack as she had just recently learned to do. Then she lay on her back in bed listening to her favorite Asani CD as she moved the icepack over all the bruised places she felt. After an hour or so she put the icepack into a bowl into a bowl on the floor beside her bed and fell into a deep but restless sleep. She dreamed of fighting a man with no face.

Ohshinnah was extremely depressed. Even though she immediately iced her face when she got home (the way it said to do in the books and articles she'd recently read), she had two black eyes and her nose, ear, and both cheeks were swollen. Nonetheless, even looking her worst, she had had to go out in public with almost the whole Rez there, to attend the funeral of an important Tribal Elder.

The Elder, Raymond Largo, had stayed pretty much to himself on the Rez, despite being one of the few remaining speakers of their language and carrying significant ceremonial and material cultural knowledge. Most of the people left him alone and few of the young people went to him with questions about their historical or spiritual heritage. Older members criticized him for having left the Rez as a young man to join the service, especially afterward, when he migrated toward one of the larger cities in the area to become a steel worker. No one openly spoke against his service, but most thought his not returning immediately after the war was a slight against the People. Nevertheless, any time there were gatherings that required a traditional prayer, he was the one they called on. He almost always agreed with a certain resigned reluctance. Now he was gone, along with all of his knowledge and experience, inaccessible and silenced forever. He had been a Catholic but just about everyone on the Rez had attended the graveside service and internment. Death alway brought them together.

"Too bad we couldn't give him this respect in life," Osh said out loud, to no one in particular, but no one had acknowledged her comment.

Osh had known Raymond since her birth, but had had little contact with him except when she went in to clean his house after his wife of fifty-five years, Jean, had passed on. She remembered him as a warm, if not solitary man, somewhat bitter that his people were not moving forward at a faster rate toward recovering traditional values and governing equitably. Yet, in her interaction with him, he was always smiling, telling her jokes and staying out of her way. She remembered him staying mostly in his garden and in his workshop as she worked, yet always seeming to show up just as she finished to pay her generously for her time. On top of all that had happened, she found herself grieving his passing and feeling his loss as if he had been an immediate family member.

On the Monday morning of the week before Thanksgiving, she sought out her closest cousin, Angelina, and together they raided Angelina's Mom's secret Vodka stash. The rest of the afternoon they sat sipping from the half-filled bottle on a hill at the edge of the Rez, looking down on the dilapidated mobile homes, trailers, and cardboard shacks intermixed with new manufactured houses funded through Block Grants from HUD and the BIA Home Improvement Program. New trucks and cars were beginning to outnumber the old junker Rez cars that had once dominated the community. Many of those unable to afford new vehicles were now walking or using public transportation rather than driving the broken down heaps they had once relied on.

"So you quit cheerleading?" Angelina said tentatively.

"Yeah. Couldn't take anymore of Snow White and her high-kicking dwarves."

"How is Sarah handling it?"

Sarah was a member of the Tribe, but her Mom was white. Her Dad, Gilbert, was in the service stationed on Afghanistan. They lived in one of the cookie-cutter houses in the newest residential development in town.

"She's light-skinned enough they don't really bother her much. Course they don't include her. Mostly she's ignored."

"Did she say anything when that girl said that in front of everybody?"

Angelina took a large sip, made a face, and burped loudly. Osh took the bottle from her and followed suit. She was feeling pretty buzzed but not any happier. If anything, she was feeling emotionally numb.

"Nah. What was there for her to say. I saw her speak to the Coach afterward but I don't know what she said."

"Seems like she woulda said something."

"I don't know, she's got the best of both worlds. Why screw with that?"

Angelina shook her head. "I still think she shoulda stood for you if she wants to be one of the People."

Ohshinnah stood up and staggered slightly. "I think it's time I go home. I'm s'posed to make Indin Tacos for dinner tonight."

Angelina stood up, brushing off her rear end and weaving heavily.

"I'm so bombed. Hey, since you're not jumping up and down in that short skirt anymore, why don't you go out for basketball Wednesday?

Angelina was one of the team's star forwards.

"I haven't practiced much since eighth grade. I doubt if I could make the team."

"So go out anyway. What else do you have going right now, except sitting up here on this hill with me getting wasted?"

Ohshinnah didn't answer. She was thinking about what Angelina said. Maybe she should tryout. She'd always liked basketball. But she was so far behind. She decided to borrow Sahli's ball and go to the school to see just how bad she was. At least there were enough Natives on the team that she wouldn't have to deal with the same kind of BS as she had in cheerleading.

The cheerleading squad was like an old-time Country Club with an unspoken "White's Only" policy while the sports teams were thoroughly integrated and there were only isolated incidents of racial slurs or confrontation with most of that directed at the Black athletes. Fortunately, none of the sports coaches tolerated it, needing every player to hold their high-ranking State teams in almost every sport. They knew that the success of those teams relied heavily on their Black, Latino, and Native athletes. In basketball, both the boy's and girl's teams had been in the top eight in the State the last two years in a row.

"Here". Angelina held out the Vodka bottle. "You better take this with you. I think you need it more than me." She tripped and fell taking her first steps down the hill. Osh started to laugh and then clamped her free hand over her mouth. Angie looked back embarrassed and stuck her tongue out the way she had when they were little kids.

Osh snorted derisively, but kept the bottle, and stumbled down the hill along the narrow rocky trail home, thinking about basketball. Her brother was bound to give her a hard time about going out. He'd been a second-string guard with a fairly reliable three-point shot, even though his defense sucked. His role was as a spot player in games where they were in danger of getting blown out or when they needed the occasional game-winning shot.

When she got to the trailer, she hid the half-filled bottle in her closet and went to the bathroom to rinse her mouth with mouthwash, trying to disguise the vodka smell. Cupping her hand in front of her mouth and breathing into it, she satisfied herself that most of the alcohol smell was gone, then went into the kitchen and began making the frybread dough.

Her Nana came in and, after only a moment, sniffed loudly, making sure Ohshinnah saw her frown of disapproval. Osh couldn't believe how good her Nana's nose and other senses were. She had an instinctual, uncanny ability to know just about everything that was going on all over the Rez without hardly ever leaving the house. It was a mystery how she did it. Ohshinnah thought that if it was back in the old days her Nana would have held a special and prominent place among the women and maybe among the Tribal Leaders in general. In her Tribe, the women had been given a voice and their accomplishments were recognized, though perhaps not quite as much as the hunters and warriors.

Her thoughts distracted her from her task, and she overcooked the frybread a little, but Osh didn't care. She wasn't going to stick around to eat anyway. After putting out the meat, diced onions, cut tomatoes, cheese, jalapeños, and beans, she went to her bedroom to log onto her computer and continue her reading about emergency first aide. She was becoming more and more familiar with the basics, but her curiosity was only greater now that she knew more. The effects of the Vodka had worn off when she finally turned off the light to go to sleep.

The next morning at school, after turning in the forged sick note from her Mom for her absence the day before, Ohshinnah hurried to the gym to sign up for basketball. Some of the girls seemed surprised to see her, but no one said anything. They were playing basketball in P.E. now and Osh was discouraged by her performance. She thought her chances of making the team were pretty slim and, as the day went on, her depression grew.

When she got home she immediately went to her closet and took a number of large swigs from the bottle, gasping and coughing as the hot fluid scorched her throat and warmed her belly. She thought she felt a little better and walked to the kitchen to do her chores. Most of her friends didn't have regular chores to do as their parents didn't really care what they did. They were on their own. Sometimes she wished she was one of them, but most of the time she was grateful for having a family that cared, no matter how dysfunctional they were. She knew her Nana had been raised in a Traditional family where each member was expected to contribute; thus, her chores.

That feeling of responsibility had been lost in a lot of families around her. Ten year olds took care of their brothers and sisters while their parents drank or cranked themselves into oblivion. The old values had disappeared in those families and even though the trappings of Christianity could be seen in their houses in the form of pictures of Jesus and crucifixes hanging on the walls, the new religion hadn't provided any real direction in unifying families and recovering from the century and a half of generational Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome still being experienced by Natives across the country.

Her Grandmother came into the kitchen and Ohshinnah made a ton of noise piling the dishes and pans while she filled the sink with hot soapy water. Her Nana stood beside her for a moment, then gently tapped her on the shoulder. Ohshinnah tensed as she turned to face her. Her grandmother surprised her by standing on her tiptoes, wrapping her thin arms around Ohshinnah's shoulders and holding her tightly to her chest. Osh responded, bending down slightly to make it easier for her Nana. She felt tears beginning to leak from the corners of her eyes unexpectedly. Within a few seconds she was crying uncontrollably into the soft nook between her Nana's shoulder and neck. Nana let her cry, patting her on the back reassuringly. After a few moments, Osh straightened up, her Nana removed her arms, and she wiped away her tears in embarrassment.

" I don't know why I did that", she said softly.

"Yes, you do", her Nana said shortly. "You know you don't have the problems your brother does. You know that alcohol won't make anything better. Our people know better than any what happens to us when we give in to weakness and forget our warrior spirit. Your Grandpa would have really torn you a new one if he was alive. Of all our grandkids he thought you had the most potential to become a leader for our people."

"He never told me that", Osh said flatly.

"Well, he didn't say what he thought most of the time. When we were young we weren't allowed to speak around the Elders and that carried over into his adult life. He often told me he wished he could express himself better. When he did try and say things, it never seemed to come out right. He used to say it was like English was a foreign language to him even though it was all he spoke. He never seemed to be able to find the right words and was afraid he'd hurt someone."

"But we were his family."

Her Nana sighed. "I think he was more afraid of saying the wrong thing to us than to anyone."

"I'm trying, Nana. I just feel kinda lost right now."

"When aren't we lost? We've been living in a foreign, alien world for so long...one we've never felt a part of. But we also know that the old world is gone and its not coming back--at least the way it was. For now we're in a sort of limbo."

"So when will that change?"

"Either enough time will pass that we become just like everybody else in this country and they take away our limited special status as "Sovereign Nations", or children like you will take an interest in the past, as well as the future, to reestablish our Native values while developing the modern skills that can serve our people."

"That's a lot to carry."

"Yeah? Well I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. Before you start feeling too sorry for yourself imagine how it was when we were losing our lands and our way of life; our very world. How do you think the leaders felt? What do you think the teenagers thought about seeing their people degraded and destroyed?"

"I guess you're right Nana, it could be worse."

Ohshinnah wasn't sure if she really believed that, but she understood what her Nana was trying to say. Coming out on the other side of a Holocaust was certainly preferable to going in.

She washed the dishes and cleaned the counters thinking about basketball tryouts and the tribal Thanksgiving Dinner, not to mention their own family dinner. But her mind always returned to the subject she was studying in her continuing medical studies. Right now she was studying the emergency treatment of shock and broken bones.

She helped her Nana prepare beans and rice with chicken for dinner, then went to her room and fired up her laptop. She was looking forward to reading about how to treat shock. Later, when she went to the bathroom, she carried the bottle of Vodka with her and poured the remaining liquor down the drain.

She spent four hours the day before Thanksgiving in the tribal kitchen at the Community Center. She knew there would be a sizable crowd that would come to eat, especially since the Tribe still had a number of Elders, children, and extremely poor members counting on the opportunity to eat their fill for a change. Outside people thought they each made lots of money from their Casino, but the truth was that poverty was still rampant on the Rez and only a few families had incomes higher than the lowest low-income guidelines published by the Federal Government. She was glad she was cooking rather than having to serve, clean up, or wash the huge pile of pots and pans that would remain after the feast.

Thanksgiving morning arrived under gray skies and a cold drizzle. Her Grandma had the radio on in the kitchen listening to the tribal station, KSKN, as she tied up the loose ends on dinner. The DJ was ranting about the truth about Thanksgiving and how it was a contrived holiday. He was detailing the re-created history that had taken one small cooperative effort between Native and Pilgrim peoples (ignoring the thousand other simultaneous examples of violence and betrayal), and made it a symbol of how the Pilgrims and Natives considered each other equals and cooperated often. It never mentioned the prayer offered by Mather, a Pilgrim Elder, thanking God for the destruction of the "savages" by disease and praying for their ultimate extinction. The DJ, Curtis Jack, spent time detailing all the other events that took place at the same time, mentioning the fact that, at that time, there wasn't a particular day designated for Thanksgiving. That had happened many decades later.

To be honest, Osh really wasn't that much interested in the broadcast, but she knew these kinds of shows were her Nana's favorites. Curtis hosted similar shows on Columbus Day, detailing the horrendous crimes against humanity of that historic icon, as well as his July Fourth political rant. Her Grandmother had grown up being active during the time of Alcatraz Occupation, the Pit River suit against PG&E in Northern California, the fishing rights struggle on the Nisqually River, and the Traditional Unity Convention that occurred in the Longhouse at Tulalip, Washington. She had stayed active in the Indians of All Tribes Movement but met Grandpa around the same time and missed the first Long Walk and then the Occupation at Wounded Knee because of consecutive pregnancies and the struggle to make ends meet. All of this occurred during the time before the U.S. Government changed its policy toward Native Nations, however disingenuously, and began to espouse the limited Tribal Sovereignty that Tribes enjoyed, or struggled with, today.

All the relatives they were expecting started drifting in after noon. She was sad that Uncle Tim wouldn't be there. He had always been the one person she felt comfortable talking to about what she was interested in. All the other adults had their own problems and just gossiped, cut each other down, complained about the Tribal Government, or were already too high to converse at all. Her brother was pretty drunk already and, as usual, was very loudly expressing his opinions on every issue...getting louder and louder as time went on.

Ohshinnah went to her room for awhile to get away from the noise. She found herself opening her laptop and studying about thermal burns; burns caused by excessive heat or cold. Her Nana stuck her head in the door to tell her dinner was ready and it was time for "the Prayer".

"The Prayer" had been a Tradition in her family since she could remember. Her Grandfather had been insistent on saying the Gathering Prayer just about every time the larger family got together. He had tried to get the Tribal Council to have it said at every General Council meeting and important event, but the Council was divided on who should be given the honor of saying it. They also expressed a concern about the time it took to get through it as well as confronting the ever-present disagreements between the Christian families and the Traditionals.

Her brother had always made complaining noises about the prayer's length when their Grandpa had been alive, but his attitude had changed when, during the last few years of Papa's life, his grandfather would ask the children what they were grateful for. It was amazing to hear the quality and thoughtfulness of the answers, even from the four to six year olds. Now Sahli insisted that the prayer be said, even if he still half-joked about shortening it a bit.

Their Uncle George, Papa's older brother, had been reading it the last two years. He was seated in Papa's old chair and Ohshinnah felt another pang of grief as she imagined her Grandfather sitting in the chair, his glasses halfway down his nose, earnestly expressing their gratitude. He always gave first thanks to the Creator, the Mother Earth, and the Four Grandfathers. Then he covered just about everything else; the rocks and waters, the wind and rain, the Sun, Moon and stars, the animals, fish, birds, shrubs, trees, roots, berries, garden vegetables and finally, of course, each other. Each of all these relatives were introduced as equally important and his emphasis was always on human beings taking care of the Mother Earth while maintaining their gratitude for life. After that he lectured them about the personal and Tribal balance needed to face the tragedy, destruction, and travails they had suffered, and were still suffering today.

The prayer was repetitive in a lot of its wording, as is common with Native prayers, and the children usually began shifting their butts about halfway through. At this point Grandpa would take off his glasses and put on a huge and loving smile for everyone before launching again into the Ritual of Gratitude. Everyone knew the last line almost by heart and were poised on the edge of their seats to rush the kitchen, even though they knew Nana would stop them to feed the Elders and children first.

As always, the food was wonderful and Ohshinnah ate too much. With the men watching football, the women talking in the kitchen and on the back porch, and the children running around wildly in the front yard, Osh crept off her room to finish her reading. She had started making notes in a "journal" to remind herself of the most important things to be done in the emergency situations she had studied so far. Writing it down seemed to help her remember. She went back in to munch a few more times, but as the gathering moved outside in front and became more boisterous, she went back to her room and fell asleep reading about how to treat a compound fracture.

The swelling had finally gone down, and only a small purple bruising at the corners of her eyes reminded Osh of her ordeal at the "party". The rumors at school about what had happened to her varied from believable to wild and crazy.

The Monday afternoon following the Thanksgiving vacation, Osh nervously went to the gym for the first day of basketball tryouts, quietly surveying the group of girls that were trying out. She was surprised to see the senior, Sarah Johnson, warming up on the sideline. She was the light-skinned Tribal member who lived off the Rez. She must have quit the cheer-leading team right after Ohshinnah. Osh's respect for her increased tremendously with that knowledge. She'd started at post the year before and Osh knew that the coaches were probably over-joyed that she'd decided to play again this year. Four of the other senior girls from last year's team were from town. The seniors consisted of two blonds; one was short and quick with a severe acne problem, Lyndsey Porter and one was a tall, gangly post, Sandy Maddox. Both were dead-eye shooters and potential high scorers in any game. Amanda Knox was a red-headed, freckle faced, three point shooter with solid defensive skills. Gennie Sanchez was the lone Latina, aggressive, reliable, and sturdy. She was a defensive powerhouse, but didn't score much. Wendy Hyatt and Debbra Thompson were both sophomores, brought up from the JV team to help the Varsity's first line of subs. Ohshinnah thought the two younger girls were fairly good on defense but erratic and prone to mistakes in transition and on offense. Her Cousins from the Res, JoJo Sam and Angelina Dominguez, were coming back as starting juniors. They had started for the Varsity last year as sophomores, playing the point guard and post positions respectively. Osh, as a sophomore, would probably substitute as a post or forward--if she made the team, and if she played at all.

Coach Walker blew two loud, short shrieks on his whistle.

"Three laps, Ladies, then go to the middle of the floor and stretch.

As the team ran their three laps around the gym, Ohshinnah knew that her weight was going to be difficult to overcome for a team used to putting a running offense and pressure defense on the hardcourt. Osh was only five foot seven, and the girls her height that she would be competing against were all slender and very quick, except for Gennie. She was the type of player Osh would have to emulate to make the team. Both of them were fast for their size, and her aggressiveness and all-out style of play might get some playing time, but her ball-handling skills, shooting, and overall down-the-court speed were definitely below par.

After stretching, there was the obligatory team meeting laying out the rules and ground-rules for the season; what was expected of the girls and what rewards and consequences would be meted out for different behavior and performance. There were about ten more girls trying out than there were playing spots available. Osh knew this first week would provide the impressions on which the coaches would ultimately make their decision.

They started with mass drills; shuffling, dribbling, passing, pivoting, moves off the pass under pressure, and low post moves. Then they broke up into groups to shoot free-throws and demonstrate what they knew or remembered about blocking out from the line. While they were doing that, the coaches called each player over individually to give them three tries at a vertical leap. By the time that was over they lined up on the baseline for speed sprints without a ball. Then they were given a ball and asked to speed dribble the length of the floor to a layup with both right and left hands. Osh was in a difficult position. She was too heavy to play at the guard position and too short to play the post, even though her weight, and aggressiveness made her capable of doing better than some of the weaker, taller girls. Making the wing position was her best chance.

Next they broke into two groups; guards and wings at one end, posts at the other. The guards and wings ran 1-on-1 from the free throw line, while the posts showed their moves in the single 1-on-1 post-in-the-box drill. Osh noticed she had been placed with the guards and wings rather than with the posts. When her turn came to challenge the defender and drive, she easily beat her with a simple double exchange but missed the layup. She got the rebound and put it back up and in, but it wasn't the kind of start she'd wanted.

Before the water break they broke into shooting groups with each player being called to the coaches table where they were asked twenty questions about the rules and on-the-floor strategy. Ohshinnah felt that only the last question had tripped her up. The question was, "What defense would you call if the other team had two good scoring threats, while the rest of their team were mostly support players." She kicked herself for not going with her first impulse, the triangle-and-two. A triangle-and-two was the correct answer but one of the assistant coaches, Bill Turley, got up and trotted back with her to her shooting group.

"That wasn't a hard and fast answer", he said sympathetically. "Lots of coaches would consider it a trick question. Some coaches would decide by the personnel they were facing, while others might go to another D altogether. Don't worry about it."

He gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder and headed back to the table. When everybody had had their twenty questions, CoachWalker blew his whistle energetically and ordered them all to the baseline for jingle-jangles. In Junior High, Osh remembered them being called suicides because if you did them right, as hard as you could, you felt like dying. Now that phrase had been virtually outlawed by education and athletic programs all over the country due to the issue of student suicides. It was felt that just the use of the word was inappropriate and possibly even dangerous because it kept the issue in the students minds. As if it wasn't there already, Osh thought.

The first day of tryout drills began with a three-on-three blockout drill, a four-on-three offensive drill, and a breaking-the-trap drill. After that, they were lined up at the baseline again to run more jingle-jangles and then hustled to the free-throw lines to do a full minute of side-to-side line-shuffles. After that even the players in top shape were bent over and gasping, trying to recapture their wind. Ohshinnah put her back against the nearest wall and slid down onto her butt.

Her Cousin Jo-Jo sauntered by and said, "It's better to stand up and raise your hands over your head to get your wind back." Jo hesitated for a moment, then said, "You did pretty well out there today."

Osh was still too out of breath to respond, even after she stood up and took her cousin's advice, raising her hand highs and giving Jo a thumb's up. Then everyone came together for the team cheer and slowly made their way to the locker room to change.

The next day was hell! When Osh woke up she couldn't even sit up normally. She had to roll off the bed sideways she was so sore. Every step was torture on her shocked muscles, tendons, and ligaments. She took time before she left for school to take another look on-line at the way they worked in the body to compliment each other. She made it a point to stretch thoroughly in P.E., where the enlightened teacher, Ms. Frederick, had abandoned trying to teach basketball skills to a largely uninterested group of girls, and was instead letting them dance for an hour to contemporary music.

By relying on the Native vote in their District, the School Board had been infiltrated by two Native women from the Rez. They had prodded and cajoled the other members to ask the local principal to change the Physical Education program from being solely sports-oriented to providing a real-life health and safety consciousness, including fitness. Dance had seemed a logical choice for most of the girls and even some of the boys. Since the classes were gender separate, even the shy kids participated. Other parts of the program emphasized the negative effects of dieting as opposed to making good food choices, the prevention and treatment of sexual and other easily transmitted infections, and getting every student certified in First Aide and CPR. Osh had been interested in how the instructions for CPR had changed over the years. The emphasis was much more about compressions now, especially in immediate emergencies and situations where the care-giver was alone.

Ohshinnah enjoyed physical education a lot more now that it was teaching usable skills than when they had struggled with short programs featuring the regularl sports as well as archery, flag football, dodge-ball, and badmitten. Most of those programs, with their high equipment costs, had gone by the wayside with the most recent budget cuts. As it was, even the sports teams had had their budgets slashed and only got buses when they went to tournaments. The rest of the time it was up to the parents to get the teams to and from games. That had caused quite a stir on the Rez because so many families were without personal transportation. The Tribe had stepped up by allowing the athletes to use the two tribal transportation buses on game days. Those that had been using the buses to get around were directed to public transportation with the Tribe picking up their ticket costs.

Grades were posted on-line at lunch-time, along with the more traditional letters sent home in the mail. Ohshinnah had a solid 3.2 average. English was her worst subject but her science and math grades had jumped significantly since she had taken an interest in medical things, even though that interest had existed for less than half a grade period.

The second day of basketball was much like the first except they skipped the racing, jumping, and quickness tests as well as the twenty question segment. There was an increase in shooting drills, defensive fundamentals, ball-handling in a crowd, defending a fast break, in-bound plays, rebound position and blocking out. The coaches spent their time setting up the drills and rotations but made few comments or corrections other than to give a cursory outline of tips on how to perform the drills correctly. It was obvious they were not only assessing talent and potential but general ball sense, ability to take direction, willingness to correct mistakes and a dedication to hustling, toughness, assertiveness, court-sense and decisive decision-making. Ohshinnah's shooting was mediocre but she felt her defensive intensity, rebounding, hustle, and court-sense was equal to all of them except the seniors that had started on last year's team.

Each successive tryout day after that included an increase in fundamental drills and scrimmaging in half court controlled and scripted sessions. On the last day the players were give blue or red colored net practice vests, separated into two teams and allowed full court scrimmages with real officials. Osh rated her performance at about a six. She wasn't too far behind on fundamentals, but in pressure situations she was hesitant. She didn't know if she was good enough to make the team but she'd left everything on the court and couldn't have tried any harder.

She was impressed at the difference in coaching styles between the volleyball coach, Ms. Farley, and Coach Walker. Walker didn't tolerate any tension, gossip, cliques, or negative comments of any kind, both in the locker room as well as on the Court. He even said he would be keeping his ears open all over the campus and in his World History classrooms for problems between team members. He said he wouldn't tolerate it and Ohshinnah believed him. The team atmosphere in the locker room and on the bench was a hundred percent more supportive and safe than the cheer-leading program. It was a relief after her former experiences.

Sahli was also in the midst of tryouts and she could tell by his sullen face and stone silence on their walk home from practice that it had not gone well.

"I don't want to talk about it", was all he said.

She figured that his unhappiness didn't have to do with his performance, as hers had, but had to do with his interaction with the other players. Two of the other Natives on the team lived in town and didn't associate much with the Res crowd. The really good players from the Rez all had grade problems, except for Stones.

Stones was a hulking, six foot four monster of a boy. He was heavily muscled, with a short, thick neck and a hank of mahogany colored hair that contrasted with his wide forehead, slate gray eyes and light brown complexion. He'd been able to slam dunk a basketball since eighth grade. But Stones had lost both his Mother and his Grandparents to diabetes-related illness and complications in the last year and had been drinking pretty regularly since then. Surprisingly, he was still holding a C average but he hadn't gone out for tryouts despite Sahli's low-key attempts to convince him.

Both Osh and Sahli went straight to their rooms when they got to the house. Nana called Osh to help with the dinner of macaroni salad, venison stew and biscuits. Ohshinnah could make macaroni in her sleep. Her Nana reminded her that they had volunteered to help with the Friday night dinner for the Tribe. Since the Halloween party for the kids and Thanksgiving dinner had been a huge success, the Elders had gotten together and started the weekly dinner. Generally, it was a rousing success and most of those attending were excited about the gatherings. It gave the older adults a chance to visit and talk, even if they were estranged from one another, and allowed them to share in the joys of their children together as a community. Osh believed that it was events like these that kept the Tribe together, or at least as together as it could be after a century of forced close contact and devastating poverty.

At school the next morning, Ohshinnah went straight to the gym to see if she had made the team roster. Her heart sank when, at first, she didn't see her name.

She was ready to walk away when Angelina, standing beside her, whooped and yelled, "You made it!"

She followed Angie's finger to her name on the list at the bottom, returned Angie's high-five, and hurried off to the library. She'd had her homeroom teacher's permission to study there since the beginning of the year. At first she'd just gone there to escape the classroom and read magazines or doze but lately she'd been spending more and more time in the medical/first aide section. Her last two papers in English had to do with triage and emergency care.

She'd also stumbled on a book about sports injuries last week and had already made it more than half way through. She was now immersed in the chapter dealing with foot and ankle sprains. She made careful notes of the most important points of treatment, then spent the rest of the hour studying the methods of wrapping and taping to prevent injuries and keep athletes participating. She was considering doing a science project demonstrating how taping helped prevent many of the various sports injuries common to high school athletes.

Osh had gotten a job through the Tribal Youth Program helping in the tribal office and at the Pre-School. With the money she made from that she'd begun purchasing first aide books and basic materials, including ace bandages and sports tape.

She found out from one of the assistant coaches that the local Fire Department was holding a First Aide/CPR certification class at seven PM that evening. Practice had been canceled due to an unexpected use of the gym by the School Board to discuss additional emergency budget cuts, so she decided to go the training.

Ohshinnah couldn't imagine what more the Board could cut, but these days it seemed all about eliminating services for students while keeping the State and local Administrators salaries at exorbitant levels. She didn't know why the money couldn't be given directly to schools to make their own decisions on how to offer their programs and teach their students. Meanwhile, the Tribe was moving forward to start their own Charter School, though they'd met resistance from the County School District and it looked like getting it going would be a long and drawn out process.

Osh got a ride into town from Angelina on her way to KMart to shop for her Grandma. She stood in the parking lot of the Fire Department by herself, feeling disoriented and out of place, though she noticed a familiar green Toyota parked at the side of the building. She tried to remember where she'd seen it before as she followed two men she didn't know into the building

Inside, a few on-duty fireman in their neatly pressed uniforms hovered near a big round table littered with newspapers, magazines, and empty Styrofoam coffee cups as Ohshinnah found herself trailing behind a small group of seven men and women in street clothes entering a small classroom off the main hall. CPR manikins were evenly spread around the room next to what appeared to be ancient school desks with drawing and carvings covering their tops. She supposed there was also a smooth layer of chewing gum covering the underneath of the desks as she sat in the row farthest toward the back. She squeezed her body into the narrow opening of the desk uncomfortably, putting her notebook and pen on the table in front of her.. After a few moments, she was surprised to see "Tommy, the Flathead" enter the room and walk to the front, facing the desks.

"Hello everyone. I'm Tom Plouffe, an MD and EMT/First Aid Instructor. I'll be helping you all get your certification this evening."

Ohshinnah was nervous, but pleasantly surprised to see the big man teaching the class. As he plunged rapidly into the material he had prepared for the lecture she was amazed to admit how much she enjoyed what she was learning for a change. Even when Mr. Plouffe came by to correct her slightly on her CPR technique, she wasn't self-conscious at all and eagerly accepted his criticism.

When he handed out the certificates at the end of the class he said, "You really take to this well. Have you thought about taking some kind of medicine or EMT classes?"

"I've thought about it."

"Well I'll set it up for you if you want. I think there are advanced classes being offered starting next Saturday. You interested?"

"Thanks, I'd really like that." As an afterthought she said, "Maybe you could help me with something. I just started basketball and I'm interested in learning how to treat and tape ankle sprains."

"Sure. I can do that. When do you want to do it?"

"How about right now?"

The big man looked hesitant.

"Uh, I don't usually carry pre-wrap and tape with me, ya know."

"I do," she said, enjoying the look of surprise on his face.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the pre-wrap and tape.

"Okay", he said. "But we're gonna do this right and it'll take awhile?"

She realized he was asking her for a commitment of time.

"Can you give me a ride home again?"

He nodded and clapped his hands energetically.

"Then let's get started. To understand ankle sprains you have to understand ankle anatomy. The ankle joint has three bones and three groups of stabilizing ligaments. Most ankle sprains are inversion injuries involving either complete or partial tearing of the lateral ligament complex. These ligaments are usually injured starting in front and moving to the back, depending on the severity. Most ankle sprains occur when landing from a jump, with the foot in an inverted position. Eversion ankle sprains, however, are usually the result of contact with another player or something like that."

Ohshinnah nodded, listening intensely as the Native doctor continued.

"The concept of ankle bracing evolved from ankle taping. Now days, braces are being used instead of taping as they are self-applied, reusable, and readjustable. In the long run, braces are more cost-effective than taping. The disadvantages of bracing include the fact that many athletes feel less comfortable or stable when wearing braces than they do when the ankle is taped. Braces also can become torn or lost and require replacement. Most of the studies have shown that braces are slightly more effective than taping but both are better than no support at all. One interesting study found that simply wearing high-tops instead of low-top shoes prevented some ankle injuries and that high-top shoes plus taping had more than 50% fewer injuries than low-top shoes plus taping."

"What kind of tape do you have?"

Osh reached into her bag and pulled her tape out.

"Yep, that's what you need. 1.5- or 2-inch white, porous athletic or nonelastic tape."

He continued teaching her about positioning, skin preparation, learning how to tear the tape, insuring smooth taping with no wrinkles, as well as following the natural flow of the body part and not forcing the tape against the natural direction. He also emphasized that the tape should not be applied too tightly."

Ohshinnah was in heaven. It was so interesting she didn't even know how long they'd been doing it. The rest of their time was spent with Tommy demonstrating actual taping techniques using Osh as the patient. He repeated the process twice then asked Ohshinnah to guide him the next time with step by step directions. When he was satisfied she had the process down pat, he had her tape both his ankles.

"Not bad", he said, admiring her work. "You learn fast."

Osh felt the blood rush to her face, embarrassed by his praise but inwardly bursting with pride.

"That's enough for this time."

He waited while she gathered up her materials, repacked them in her bag, and looked to him expectantly.

"Now all you need is a guinea pig."

"No problem", she replied, thinking of all the kids she could bribe to get to sit for her to practice on.

Doctor Plouffe drove her home again in silence, until they parked.

"I'm on call in the E. R. this week, why don't you come down and check it out?"

"Will they let me do that?"

He smiled slyly, "If I say so."

She dipped her head, avoiding his gaze.

"We'll see. Maybe."

As he drove off, Osh was already trying to remember everything she'd learned that evening.

Ohshinnah's days and nights filled up with basketball practice, school (which she was taking more seriously now), and her medical studies, either in the library or on the Internet. Her weekends were full of Saturday EMT classes and family or Tribal events on Sunday's. She also had spent one long night following Dr. Plouffe around the E.R., and had been overwhelmed by the tense, emotional atmosphere and the suffering she saw as well as the amazing amount of expertise he seemed to effortlessly draw on in his treatment of the various emergencies he faced. Osh felt physically exhausted at school the following day but realized, surprisingly, that she felt a fresh commitment to mentally refocus on learning everything she could about trauma and emergency first aid. Her plan was to get her EMT and First Responder credentials before she graduated.

At the end of the second week of practice, as she was coming out of the girls' locker room, she was surprised to see Coach Walker sitting on the bottom row of the bleachers not far from the locker room door. His face was grim as he stood up and waved her over. The gym smelled of sweat and effort. She felt her stomach turn over at the look on his face. He didn't waste any time.

"How would you evaluate your skills compared to the others on the team?" he said bluntly.

Osh shrugged, then realizing he expected an answer she said, "I've got my strong points but I'm probably at the bottom." She wondered where this was going.

"And how important do you think it is to the team and the school to make it to State this year?"

"Pretty important".

She knew that that was the correct answer but also realized it wasn't that important to her. That was one difference between Natives and non-Natives. Natives were often more concerned with having fun and enjoying themselves than embracing the serious competitive spirit prized by Americans. Of course that was changing as time went by, she knew a couple of very competitive Rez girls, but it wasn't a value that had been embraced yet by her family. Her Mom and Nana were always supportive of whatever grades she brought home, sports she played, or whatnot, without ever pressuring her.

"The reason I ask is that we've had an issue come up and I need you to be the one to make the final decision."

Osh's nervousness clicked up a notch.

"A week or so ago we got this new transfer from Texas, a girl named Felicia Rolen. She's tall and was an All-County player where she came from. Her parents brought her in to see if there was a way she could play ball for us even though the team roster's already set."

Ohshinnah knew now where this was going.

"Now as far as I'm concerned the roster is full", he looked at her pointedly, "Unless...", he trailed off leaving the response to her.

"So you want me to quit?"

He shook his head from side to side. "No. Everyone, and I mean everyone, agrees we want you to stay with the team. You can practice with us, ride the bus, whatever you want."

Osh took a long time to respond as the Coach shifted foot to foot uncomfortably.

"So I'd be a player or...what?"

"I don't think you'd get much playing time...", once again he stopped.

"So what's left, team manager?"

"Could you live with that?" He studied her face carefully.

Osh thought about it for a moment. "How about trainer/manager?"

The Coach's face lit up with a relieved grin and he put out his hand for her to shake.

Ohsinnah wasn't sure how she felt about this, but she shook his hand anyway. Given the time and effort she'd put in to make the team, it was a painful disappointment, but she also knew that another strong player would almost guarantee the team a District, if not State, Championship. Suddenly she had a thought, an exiting thought!

"So I can take on all the taping, treatment and player care responsibilities?"

The Coach looked confused, then perplexed. "Well, how much do you know? I don't want you in over your head?"

Osh knew he really meant he didn't want her pretending to be something she wasn't.

"Let's just say I've been studying and taking classes for some time."

The Coach looked doubtful.

"You can call Dr. Plouffe at the hospital if you want, he'll back me up. I've got his number in my cell phone."

Coach Walker took a deep breath. "Well, we'll start with taping okay? You show me you know what you're doing and you're on."

Osh held out her hand this time and he took it with some hesitancy. She got a good grip and shook it intensely. She was sure she could do it. Half the kids on the Rez had been walking around with taped ankles since she started offering small payments to volunteers. She had complete confidence in her competency.

Again the Coach looked surprised at her aggressive handshake, he wasn't used to that from most younger Natives.

"Okay. I'll see you at practice tomorrow. Gennie's gonna need taping, she's got a weak right ankle."

"I'll be there," Ohshinnah said firmly. She actually felt better about how it had turned out. She was still on the team and would be able to practice the skills she was most interested in. Unfortunately, or fortunately, basketball wasn't what she'd be practicing.

The first game of the playoff season was a barn-burner at home. The game started out with the visiting team, the Crawford Trojans, playing a tough man-to-man pressure defense. They contested every inbound pass at both ends, seeking to trap at every opportunity. The difference between them and the other teams that Brandon had faced was that this team had great team speed. Every one of them was capable of guarding their girl while falling back into help position in an instant. They forced three quick Eagle turnovers resulting in scores in the first minute and Coach Walker was forced to call a full timeout. Ohshinnah listened over is shoulder as he spoke to the team.

"Okay Ladies, we know this game will be about ball control and playing our tempo not theirs." He drew out his white-board and quickly reminded them of their press and trap-break responsibilities before they joined hands for the break.

"Go-o-o Eagles!"

Coach Walker knelt in front of the other players on the bench.

"Listen up! We're gonna substitute fast and furious all through the game in groups to make it hard for them to determine who their man is, so be ready".

After that, the Eagles settled down and played a pressure game, but under control. Coach Walker had prepared the team well for squad substitutions and they were fortunate to have a deep team with ten of the twelve players virtually interchangeable on the court. Gradually, the Eagles crept ahead one basket at a time until they were up by eight at half-time. They came out strong in the first minute of the third period and Chrissy Johnson, with a head's up play, stole the ball on the first Trojans's inbound pass and took it in for an uncontested layup. Both teams clamped down with their defenses and the score stayed about the same, see-sawing back and forth with the Eagles maintaining a five to seven point lead. In the middle of the third period JoJo drove hard down into the key from the right lane, faked a shot and kicked the ball out to Angelina at the forward position. Angelina took one quick dribble back toward the baseline and picked up the ball. Being known as a solid three point shooter, both the post and the wing charged to deny her a shot. The Trojan's backside post was late to help at the vacated low block, where Felicia posted up strong. Angelina waited until the defense was almost to her, making it look to everyone like she intended to take the shot, then pulled it down and made a sharp, low bounce into the post. Felicia handled the pass flawlessly then performed a perfect Power-to-the-Middle move, looking over her right shoulder to the middle, drop-stepping with her right foot and crab dribbling in a low crouch between the two defenders rushing to trap her. She finished leaping up high with a feather-light underhand layup. The ball rolled around the hoop a couple times and, with everybody on both benches holding their breath, teetered on the rim before it fell through the net. The crowd erupted with so much noise the whistle of the official was drowned out as he called the Trojans for a foul on the shot. Some of the Trojan fans booed but Felicia stepped calmly to the line and sank the free-throw for a three-point play.

Ohshinnah had a feeling that that was the turning point of the game. After that the Trojan's play seemed erratic and more frantic as the third period ended and the minutes of the fourth ticked by. They hit a three at the four minute mark but JoJo responded with her own three from the baseline to restore their ten point lead. They wound up winning by fourteen with a final score of 64 to 50.

The atmosphere in the locker room was jubilant and Ohshinnah was carried along with the emotion of the moment as she cut the tape from the ankles of the players and tended to any new abrasions or complaints suffered in the second half. Fortunately the Eagles had no significant injuries in the game and they were eager to move onto the next level of the playoffs.

The Eagles blew the next team out of the water, relying on their speed to outrun the taller Broncos from the town of Sanders, a small logging community about twenty minutes northwest of Brandon. The Eagles full-court press generated ten points in the first half on turnovers alone. Frustrated, the two big players for the Broncos got in foul trouble at the end of the third and the beginning of the fourth periods. One of them fouled out with a high vicious elbow on a rebound in the key, breaking Lyndsey Porter's nose and then was called for an additional technical when she stomped off the court, pushing Chrissy out of the wayas she went by. Gennie Sanchez, the best free-throw shooter for the Eagles, sank both the technical free throws to ice the game. In the first seconds of the fourth quarter, the other big girl, a six foot two red-headed fireball, stuck out her foot to trip Angelina on a breakaway off a stolen pass and picked up her final foul. After that both teams put in their second teams and subs to play out the rest of the game.

Ohshinnah didn't see much of the end of the game. She'd pulled on a pair of surgeon's gloves and popped the cold pack before Lyndsey had even made it off the court, her nose dripping a steady stream of bright red blood on the shiny hardwood floor. Taking Lyndsey by the arm she led her to the end of the bench and showed her where to hold the cold pack and keep her head elevated. Osh gently pressed on Lyndsey's cheekbones and adjacent facial areas but it was evident that she hadn't sustained any other facial fractures. The nose was swelling quickly though most of the bleeding had subsided.

"How bad is it," Lyndsey asked. "I can't breathe out of my nose at all." She reached up with the hand not holding the icepack to feel for the damage. Ohshinnah caught her hand. "Leave it alone. We won't know 'til the swelling goes down if your nose will need straightening. As long as its swollen like it is now we have no idea what it'll look like." She handed her two Tylenol and added, "Take only Tylenol for pain and don't take it too often."

She gave Lyndsey a severe look and noticed the girl was watching the subs playing out on the court. Osh put her hand on Lyndsey's jaw to get her attention again.

"Pay attention, girl! Absolutely no Aspirin, Motrin, Advil--only Tylenol, Okay? I need for you to watch out for any signs of infection, and go to the doctor if the swelling doesn't go down within a day or two. or if you lose or notice a change in your sense of smell, or if you get a fever. And you may have a couple of black eyes!"

"Great!" Lyndsey replied. "Guess I'm not gonna go to the dance tomorrow night."

"As long as you ice it twenty minutes on, then twenty minutes off as many times as you can within the next twelve hours, and if you don't jump around too much, I don't see why you can't go."

She ended her sentence like she was asking a question.

Lyndsey looked at Ohshinnah like she was crazy just as the game ended and both were distracted by the commotion and celebration on the bench. Lyndsey stood up slowly, still holding the icepack against her nose.

"Thanks," she said simply.

Osh nodded and went about cleaning up the bloodied wipes, putting them in her biohazard bag along with the gloves she stripped off. She straightened up her first aide box, gathered up her bag and went into the locker room to the supply cabinet to replenish her supplies. She took out an extra ice pack and carried it to where Lyndsey was sitting on a bench, handing it to her without a word. Then she sat down and shared in the victory. She didn't feel included by the players but neither did she feel excluded. It caused her mixed feeling for a moment but then JoJo and Angelina came by to give her high fives and her smile returned.

The season seemed to fly by. The players, once they saw that Ohshinnah knew what she was doing, came to her for all kinds of injuries: sprained ankles, toes, fingers, blisters, black eyes, bleeding noses, bruised ribs and other assorted pains and problems. She was surprised by how much they confided in her as they sat patiently while she taped ankles, dressed wounds, or just listened sympathetically to their complaints.

At the end of February, they beat their rivals, the Finley Cougars to win their Division, and that win put the Eagles in the State Final Tournament. The thrill of being associated with one of the best teams in the State was exhilarating for Ohshinnah. She'd never been a part of a successful team before. When she came out of the locker room even Sahli gave her a low five. The atmosphere was jubilant and it followed her all the way home.

They had to wait three days before they found out who their opponent would be. Though it was what they expected, it hadn't ended up the way they'd hoped. They had been rooting for a school about fifty minutes away, the Landers Cardinals, but St. Mary's had pounded them 57 to 42, and that was with only the subs playing for St. Mary's in the final period.

St. Mary's was located in the city of Calder, almost three hours away in good weather, and closer to five or more in bad. No one was looking forward to that long a bus ride especially since the forecast was for snow, sleet, and icy rain with occasional strong gusts of wind all the way. Snow was common this time a year but any driver familiar with that stretch of road feared the icy mountain road. It would be a Saturday afternoon game so they had to leave early.

Saturday morning arrived accompanied by large alabaster-white snow flakes floating down from a slate gray sky. The girls started gathering in the parking lot around eight AM. At five after eight, Ohshinnah was still at home, completely stressed out trying to decide what she wanted to take on the bus. As the Team Manager she was responsible for the towels, balls, score book, pencils, Coaches' white-boards and pens, and First Aide supplies. She was taking it very seriously. Sahli had started calling her Dr. O because of her obsession with being prepared. Curiously, the nickname didn't seem to bother her. The weekend before she had watched a movie about a bus in South America going off the road and the casualties they suffered from being unprepared. She had managed to convince the coaches to require every player to bring a blanket and a pillow. She also made it a point to tell everyone to bring water and some packaged food, even though they planned to stop along the way for bathroom breaks and snacks. She knew that most of them had cell phones but wasn't sure they'd have service so she confirmed that at least one of the parents would be following the bus, just in case.

She sat on her bed and put the contents of the hard plastic first aide box provided by the school into a cloth shopping bag. That went into a large sports bag with everything else she could think to prepare for any of the potential disasters they might face.

Finally she felt ready and, taking one last wistful look around her room to see if she had forgotten anything, headed out the door to ride with her Mom to the school. The air was brisk and the tiny hairs in her nose froze and crinkled in the early morning cold. The smell of woodsmoke mixed with diesel fumes hung low in the parking lot air as she hugged her Mom and strained to lift her huge bag from the rear of the pickup.

The team was in high spirits, excited and jittery at the same time. Heavy white smoke was coming out of the bus tailpipe as it warmed up. The door was closed allowing the heating system to begin taking the icy chill out of the air inside.

Coach Walker and his assistants were solemn faced, looking anxious and distracted. Most of the girls already had their I-Pods blasting music into the little microphone buds in their ears, or were busy texting on their phones. The bus driver was Chuck Adams, a long time driver for the School District. He was in his early fifties, a little on the heavy side, with cheeks that were always red, sporting an old-time crew cut with a big bald spot in the middle. He was slowly loading all the larger bags and quite a few of the blankets into the cargo bin. Ohshinnah immediately went to Coach Walker.

"I thought all the blankets would be on the bus?"

He began to walk away. "Talk to the girls, that's their decision."

Osh followed him closely.

"Coach, I really think its a better idea if they're on the bus. I'm the Manager, its my responsibility to look out for the team."

"What, you think the bus heating system is gonna fail?" He looked amused. "I think you're taking all this a little too seriously, don't you? Blankets, food, water", he looked down at her sports bag, "and probably half a pharmacy to boot!"

Ohshinnah felt her face flush with anger.

"I'm not taking my job any more seriously than you are. I just want to be prepared."

The Coach smiled and put his hand on her shoulder.

"And you've done a great job for us this year. I've never had someone take such good care of our players. You're the best student manager any sports team here has ever had. Look, we're almost there. Just a simple bus ride left...and one game." He saw her reaction to his last sentence. "We've been making these rides in the snow since I went to school here. Don't worry."

He gave her shoulder a firm little shake and turned away to talk with Chuck.

"How close are we to being ready?"

"Any time you want, I'm all loaded up."

"Outstanding."

Coach Walker looked at his watch and loudly announced that the girls could get on the bus and mark out their territory. Only one parent was going with them, Felicia's Dad. All the Native parents and others would be following, or speeding ahead, in their cars. Most of the parents wanted to get there early enough to eat a late lunch before the game. The game was scheduled for three o'clock. It was almost ten after nine. On the bus, Walker spoke again.

"Let's get going Ladies, we're gonna need some time to stretch and work out the kinks before we start our pre-game drills. You all got your warm-ups on?"

A few girls responded while most were busy staking out the seats they wanted to lie down on with their bags, and pillows. The Coaches sat up front behind the driver, one to a seat, preparing for the long ride.

Ohshinnah was the last to get on dragging her bag, backpack, and blanket up the steps. She stopped and strained to lift the backpack over her head as she turned sideways to move down the isle with everyone still trying to get situated. Felicia's Dad offered to help but she politely refused and slowly worked her way toward the back until she had reached one of the few spaces left on the bus with two adjacent empty seats. She dropped the bag heavily on the first seat and then slid into the next one, pushing her backpack down between the seat and the floor and her blanket against the side of the bus and window. She leaned her back against the blanket and put her feet up on the seat facing the aisle. She already regretted her decision not to bring her pillow.

The first hour on the bus was rowdy and noisy. The girls were sitting in the groups they usually hung out with at school. Felicia was sitting in the seat next to her Dad toward the front, two seats behind the coaches. The two Rez girls, Jojo and Angelina, had captured the very back seat. Chrissy and Gennie sat between them and Ohshinnah. The rest of the girls from town were grouped together toward the middle. After an hour it began to quiet down as the girls plugged back into their I-Pods or smart-phones and started dozing or looking out the window at the white landscape flying by. Osh felt drowsy herself. The air outside was blizzard-like with the wind blowing the falling snow sideways. A thick coat of snow was already deepening on the landscape. She rolled the blanket up and lay her head against it at the side of the window. It wasn't long before she drifted off to sleep listening to the bump of the tires on the road.

Ohshinnah woke with a start, her stomach lurching as she felt the sickening feeling of the bus as it went into a wild skid, the tires losing traction on the icy road. There was a loud commotion at the front with the coaches standing in the isle obscuring her view of the driver. Most of the girls were screaming as the bus continued its slide toward the side of the road. Ohshinnah thought that the bus would stop there but to her surprise and horror, the rear end continued over the embankment dragging the rest of the bus sideways with it.

Suddenly she felt her stomach drop out as the bus tilted toward the right and dropped over another four foot incline. Everyone on the bus was thrown against the window or side of the bus on that side. The bus settled for a moment and seemed to stop. Ohshinnah breathed a sigh of relief believing that the accident was over, but as she struggled to gain a footing she felt the bus began to move again. The screaming of the girls had subsided into whimpering but changed again to shrieks of fear as the bus slowly tipped backward and rolled over another ledge where it began tumbling sideways again, rolling over and over with increasing speed.

Everyone was at the mercy of fate as the bus rolled. At one point they came down upside down and she hit her back hard against the roof underneath her. She told herself that she had to relax to survive and she drew her knees up tightly to her chest and tried to just roll with it. The last few rolls she spent most of the time in the space between the top of a seat and the bus roof. The last roll seemed to be the most violent, throwing her hard against the window and then back into the isle as the bus dropped over another ledge and slid to a stop on its side, with the top edge of the bus digging into the ground so deep that snow and frozen earth pushed through the now broken windows to the depth of a foot. Ohshinnah's right arm and leg were almost completely covered with dirt.

Realizing that the accident was finally over, most of the girls lost it again, screaming loudly and crying in shock. Osh looked toward the front of the bus but was unable to see any movement. She could make out a least two bodies lying at crazy angles, quiet and still. She was unable to see Felicia and her Dad. All but one of the four girls that had been sitting mid-bus were moving slowly, calling out to each other. Someone outside the bus was shouting but Ohshinnah was unable to make out what they were yelling. She looked down at herself and found that other than a pain in her back where she'd come down hard against the roof, and shooting pains in her left wrist and ankle, she was otherwise unharmed. She squirmed her way into a position where she could look toward the rear of the bus and was shocked to find her face only inches from Chrissy's.

The girl's eyes were closed and she was trembling violently, even though she appeared unconscious. Raising her head and pushing herself up on one arm, she tried to see JoJo and Angelina.

"Jo? Angie?", she called out weakly, "Are you okay?" She was relieved to hear both of them respond.

"Yeah, we're okay...I think. I can't move my legs and Angie's got a bad cut on her forehead. Are you hurt Angie?" JoJo asked her seat-mate.

"My head hurts and I think my arm might be broken...it really, really hurts!"

"Can you guys climb out the window? If not, you guys just sit tight until I check out everybody else."

"Who d-d-died and made you K-K-King?" JoJo stuttered.

Osh didn't answer as she was pulling herself around the side of Chrissy to determine what her injuries might be.

A voice from just beyond Chrissy said sofly, "Is it over?"

Ohshinnah could barely make out the muddied and bloodied face of Brenna Sanchez, peeking her head out into the aisle from between two seats.

As if on cue, she answered Osh's unvoiced question.

"I'm not hurt but I think I'll lay here for awhile."

"Okay." Osh turned back to Chrissy.

"Chrissy, can you hear me?"

Chrissy's eyelids fluttered and then opened, wide with fear. She tried to get up but there wasn't room with Ohshinnah leaning against the top of the seat with her butt on Chrissy's legs.

"Get off me!" Chrissy commanded.

Ohshinnah crawled back toward where she had been sitting.

Chrissy sat up and said, almost as if she didn't believe it, "I guess I'm alright too."

She looked past Ohshinnah toward the front of the bus and turned her head, throwing up the candy and chips she had eaten earlier.

Osh turned away from the vomit in disgust and worked at turning around so she could move toward the front of the bus. Immediately she noticed what had made Chrissy sick. Just beyond what appeared to be the pile of white girls jumbled together in the middle of the bus, and the unconscious bodies of Felicia and her Dad beyond that, was the body of Bill Turley. His arms were thrown up over his head and his body was draped like a rag doll over the rail of a seat. His head was twisted at a crazy angle and his eyes were fixed and staring sightlessly at her.

"Is Coach Turley...alright?" Chrissy asked from behind her.

"I don't think so", Osh replied, her stomach turning as she acknowledged the horrifying truth.

Realizing that Chrissy might be in shock she said in a commanding voice, "Okay. I want you to try to roll over on your side in case you throw up again."

She continued to crawl and climb toward the majority of the other girls until she was blocked by the large back of Sandy Maddox. She reached over Sandy's neck with her hand and put her fingers on her carotid artery. The pulse was strong and steady.

"Sandy?" She put her hand on the girls leg and Sandy yelped.

"Don't touch me!" the tall girl said, pulling away with a gasp. "I think my hip's broken."

"Okay. Stay flat. I'll be back."

Ohshinnah backed up a little and started forward again, climbing carefully over Sandy while trying not to bump her. Lyndsey Porter was curled up into a tight ball holding her side. Osh tried to get her to remove her hand so she could see if there was an injury but Lyndsey reacted as Sandy had, pulling away.

"Lyndsey, I need to see what's wrong."

She saw the other girl remove her hand from her side and tenderly reached in with her fingers, feeling her ribs.

"Does it hurt to breathe?" she asked.

"Yeah, every time I breathe in."

"I'm sure you probably have some broken ribs. Anything else hurting?"

"My neck."

"Well, you can move your hands and arms so you're not paralyzed but I don't want you to move at all. Can you feel your legs? Wiggle your toes."

"I can feel them moving," Lyndsey said, her voice full of relief."

"Do you know where Wendy is?"

"I can't see her."

"What about Debbra and Amanda?"

"I think someone's legs are underneath me but I don't know who it is."

Ohshinnah noticed that the temperature inside the bust was dropping fast. She saw the corner of a blanket in a pile of bags above Lyndsey's head. She grabbed at it and pulled it down, trying to cover both Sandy and Lyndsey. Moving as fast as she could, she retraced her path to where she had been sitting and found her blanket buried in dirt between the seats. She crawled to Chrissy and spread it over her.

"I have my blanket here", Gennie said, from behind Chrissy, poking her head out into the isle.

Osh hadn't even remembered she was there.

"Cover yourself", Osh commanded. "Are you hurt?"

"Nope, just bruises."

As she covered Chrissy, she shouted, "Jo and Angie, do you have blankets?"

"We can hear you, Sneakers. Nah, both of ours went underneath."

"How about you, Brenna?"

"I'm covered."

Ohshinnah felt her strength returning rapidly. The accident was finally coming into focus and she suddenly had a terrible vision of the bus catching on fire. She had to hurry! She worked her way back toward the front, trying to stay on her knees and feet. Slipping past Sandy and Lyndsey she found a clear path to the next body. It was hard not to be distracted by the dead face of Coach Turley starring straight at her. She could tell by the Uggs Boots that the next body was Wendy. Her legs were in the aisle and her torso was still on the seat. She was covered with a blanket.

As Osh reached her, Wendy moved her legs.

"I'm okay too," she said quietly. "I've been listening to you. It's a good thing for all of us you're here."

"We're not out of this yet," Osh replied. "Can you move well enough to climb out of the window up there?"

The bus had landed so that one set of windows was buried in the dirt and the others were high in the air on the side toward the road.

Wendy stirred and slowly moved her body to that side of the bus, climbing on top of the seat railing to reach the broken window.

"I think I can get out but I've got to break out the rest of the glass."

Ohshinnah spotted one of the girls backpacks behind her, still sitting on the seat. She grabbed it, and in one motion, flung it upward toward the window.

Wendy caught it in mid-air, unzipped it, and shoved her hand inside. Bringing it up to the window she punched out the remaining window-glass and poked her head out of the window.

Ohshinnah heard a shout from outside.

"One of the parents are here! I think it's Gennie's Dad."

"Ask him if he can help you climb out." Ohshinnah felt, for the first time, that maybe she wasn't alone in trying to help. "Also, see if someone out there can get into the cargo bay and get the rest of the blankets out."

Wendy stuck her arms, head and shoulders through the window. She watched two sets of hands reach through to grab Wendy under her arms and pull her up and out. Her shoes caught for a moment on the bottom sill and then she was gone. A face appeared at the window and she recognized Gennie's father. He tried to see the length of the bus, anxiously looking for his daughter.

"Gennie's okay Mr. Sanchez, but we've got some serious injuries here", she paused as her voice caught in her throat, "and at least one f-f-atality".

Osh felt strange using the dispassionate terminology everyone used in her EMT classes.

Mr. Sanchez pulled his head out for a moment and she heard him shout.

"I smell it too. We don't have much time!"

His head poked back inside the window.

"We can smell gas out here. We've got to get everybody out now!"

"Some of them can't be moved yet," Osh said firmly. "I need to finish my assessment."

"Better be quick," he said.

"Gennie, your Dad's here. See if you and Chrissy can get to the closest high-side windows. Mr. Sanchez...we may need you to break out some windows up there. Gennie and Chrissy are gonna try to climb out, they're..." Osh paused to count windows, "about five windows back."

"I hear you."

Oshinnah restarted winding her way through broken glass and piles of sports bags toward the front. She consciously avoided looking at Mr. Turley. She found Debbra next. She was unconscious but her vital signs were good so Osh moved on. Amanda was sitting with her back against the body of Felicia's father. Her head hung against her chest but she was shaking. Osh found another blanket hooked underneath a seat and worked it free to drape it around the girl's shoulders.

"Amanda? Do you know where you are? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Amanda's eyes were glazed and she didn't respond to the question. Oshinnah was certain she was in shock, but it seemed worse than that. All of a sudden a feeling of dread, doubt, and discouragement overwhelmed her. She wasn't a doctor, what was she doing? She heard a groan and peeked over Mr. Rolen's back. Felicia was on her back looking up.

"Is my Dad okay?"

Osh felt for his pulse. It was strong. She noticed a bruise on his forehead and temple.

"I think maybe he might just have been knocked out but we need him to wake up."

"Daddy? Daddy wake up!"

As if on cue, Mr. Rolen raised his head and sat up. He looked around, momentarily confused, then noticed his daughter.

"Licia, are you hurt?"

"I don't know Daddy, I can't move."

Ohshinnah tapped him on the back and said, "Can I get past you and Amanda, Mr. Rolen, so I can check out Felicia."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Why should I trust your judgement?"

Osh pulled back.

"Look Mr. Rolen, if you don't want me to look at her I won't, but can I get by to check on the Coach?"

"Daddy, you can trust her. I do." Felicia smiled weakly.

Amanda squeezed to the side and Mr. Rolen moved his large body as much as he could to let her by.

"Can you feel anything", Osh asked Felicia gently. "Can you moved your fingers or toes?"

"Nope, I can't even turn my head."

Ohshinnah looked sharply at Mr. Rolen.

"You're right, she needs professional care. I don't want to move her at all, but if there's a danger of fire...." As she was speaking, she smelled smoke and heard yelling outside the bus.

"I'll be back."

Osh moved forward to where she thought Coach Walker should be. He was lying wedged in the space between his seat and the back of Chuck Adam's seat. Bill Turley's corpse hung over the seat only inches from her now. She tried to ignore the fear creeping up her spine and took Coach Walker's hands in her own. He opened his eyes,

"You know you really take this Team Manager crap to an extreme." He smiled weakly, then coughed twice. A thin trickle of blood flowed from his nose and the corner of his mouth. "My chest hurts, its like an elephant's sitting on me...you sure Coach Turley's not layin on me?"

Ohshinnah turned her face quickly so he wouldn't see her expression but she figured her face had already given her away when he said, "What?"

"I'm sorry Coach, but he...he... didn't make it."

Coach Walker's eyes widened for a second then closed as he grimaced in pain.

"God! My chest is killing me."

Ohshinnah was pretty sure the Coach was having a heart attack, but she couldn't help him immediately and had one more person to check. She stepped past the Coach to find Chuck Adams gasping for breath in his chair. The front of the bus was crumpled in and pressing in on him. The drivers-side window at his was open, with broken glass covering his chest and lap. The windshield was punched inward from the top and snowflakes fell through the opening. The steering wheel was almost touching his chest and his whole seat was tilted crazily to the side toward the door. She touched him on the shoulder. His seat belt was holding him up as he leaned slightly forward against the steering wheel.

"I can't breathe," he complained.

Ohshinnah reached across to unbuckle his seat belt. As the belt loosened his body began to pitch to the side and he grabbed at the steering wheel to keep himself steady. She reached out to try and keep him from falling.

"I can't feel my legs at all. How are we all doing?" He pointed to the rear of the bus.

"It's pretty bad back there...I'm afraid of fire. They...they said they smell gas outside."

"Well, the engine's off but somebody's got to get these people out. Think you're up to it?"

"I guess. I've been trying."

"Promise me if I don't make it you'll tell my daughter I love her."

Oshinnah nodded and felt the tears begin to flow from her eyes and stream down her cheeks.

"I promise."

He nodded once and then his whole body went raggedy-doll. Ohshinnah gently put her fingers to his neck. His pulse was steady but weak. She had no idea what his injuries were. She rebuckled his seatbelt to keep him from falling out of his chair and

moved to Bill Turley's body.

Putting her hand on his back, she said the words for passing. Then she took a deep breath and closed his eyes gently with the fingers of her left hand as looked down the length of the bus, trying to assess the situation. The smell of smoke was getting stronger. Two of the girls had gotten out already, as Mr. Sanchez had successfully pulled Gennie out. So now they had one dead, one probable heart attack, two with possible broken backs or necks, a broken leg, a broken arm, broken ribs and various bruises and lacerations.

Ohshinnah knew that she had to figure out how to get everybody out of the bus to a safe spot. She knew Mr. Sanchez could help, maybe Mr. Rolen too, if she could talk him into leaving his daughter's side.

She yelled toward the back of the bus, "Chrissy, Gennie, Brenna, JoJo, Angelina, Lyndsey-- can you guys get out of the window?"

"We can try", yelled Angelina.

Osh could hear the doubt in her voice.

"I'll try and get you guys some help."

Ohshinnah climbed past Coach Walker, now lying quietly on with his eyes closed. She was relieved to see that his chest was still moving. She noticed that the window behind him was broken and she climbed up to look outside. She could see a couple of cars parked on the highway. It seemed like they had rolled almost thirty yards down the embankment.

She heard voices outside and yelled out, "Mr. Sanchez, are you there?"

"I'm here", he yelled back.

"Can you help the girls in the back get out?" Then she added, "How much time do you think we have?"

"I don't have a clue... it could go up any time. Who else can we get out?"

"Coach Walker's having a heart attack I think but we can move him. I don't think I can lift him anywhere near high enough to get him up to a window though. The driver's belted in his seat and I can't tell how bad off he is. Debbra's unconscious but I can't see any visible signs of trauma. Amanda's in shock but we could probably get her out next. Felicia's really hurt bad...maybe paralyzed, and Sandy's got a broken hip. Lyndsey's got broken ribs and it'll hurt but she can probably get out too."

"Is there anybody that can help you? What about Coach Turley?"

Osh choked up for a moment before replying, "No Mr. Sanchez, I'm afraid he's gone."

"What?"

Osh took a deep breath.

"He's dead."

Her voice suddenly sounded very loud in her ears.

There was a long silence outside before Mr. Sanchez replied again.

"Anyone else?"

Osh look down the aisle to where Felicia was lying on her back with her father leaning over her holding her hands in both of his own. She wasn't sure if Mr. Rolen would leave Felicia's side to help.

"Mr. Rolen? He didn't respond. She raised her voice, "Mr Rolen!"

His head came up slowly and turned in her direction.

"Do you think you can help me get Amanda up to the window where Mr. Sanchez can get her out?"

He nodded but didn't release his daughter's hands.

"We have to do it now," she said urgently.

He nodded again and gently loosened his fingers from Felicia's. A moment later he was poised at Ohshinnah's side trying to get Amanda, who was still not responding to their efforts, into a position where they could lift her high enough to get her head out of the window so Mr. Sanchez could get his arms under her shoulders.

Out of the blue she wondered how Mr. Sanchez was even getting up to the height of the window, it seemed so high up. Together they pushed Amanda up with Mr. Rolen doing most of the lifting and Ohshinnah trying to lift and guide Amanda's head and torso toward the opening. After a couple of tries they were successful and Mr. Sanchez was dragging the girl out. Ohshinnah reached down for the blanket that had fallen off the girl's shoulders and, rolling it into a ball, pitched it out the window.

"Make sure she's bundled up really good. Can you get her up to the road and put her in a car?"

" Yeah. Everybody that we've gotten out is already up there. We even had another car stop to help and Wendy went with her Dad to see if they can find a place where they can get cell coverage."

"You mean we don't have the paramedics coming yet?"

She was shocked at first, then faced the reality of just how far away from any town they were.

"Hey Sneaks?"

It was JoJo.

"We're all out!"

Osh looked toward the rear of the bus and felt relief sweep over her.

She looked around to decide who to try to get out next, ticking off everybody's name in her head. Jo, Angie, Chrissy, Wendy, Gennie, Brenna and Amanda were out. Coach Walker seemed the best candidate but he was a lot heavier than Amanda had been and they'd had trouble lifting her!"

"Mr. Rolen, do you think we can left the Coach?"

He looked doubtful but said, "We can try."

It took them four tries and a lot of sweating and grunting but finally Mr. Sanchez and another set of arms pulled Coach Walker through the window with him groaning loudly all the while. At least he was alive.

Ohshinnah was exhausted, physically and mentally. The sweat on her brow and under her shirt began to freeze causing her to shiver in the afternoon cold. She hadn't noticed just how cold it was before. "Fire or ice", she thought. If they didn't make it in time it would be fire and she decided she prefered ice. She forced herself to her feet. Mr. Rolen had already returned to his daughter's side. Osh pressed past him on her way back down the isle toward Sandy.

As she passed Felicia, Mr. Rolen grabbed her arm.

"What are going to do about my daughter. How are we going to move her safely?"

"I'm workin' on it, Mr. Rolen. Give me a minute to deal with Lyndsey, Debbra and Sandy. If I can get them to their feet can you help me get them out next?"

She could tell Mr. Rolen would prefer not to leave his daughter to last in getting everyone out, but he knew it would take time and preparation to do it safely.

As she climbed toward Sandy she racked her brain trying to remember the EMT class training on how to move someone with neck or back injuries without a board and neck brace. A thought jumped into her mind. It was wild but it might work.

"Mr. Sanchez? Are you still there?"

She knew he'd worked hard to get all the girls up to the highway into the warm cars, despite their various injuries.

"Yeah. I'm not going anywhere."

She was grateful to hear his voice.

"Do any of the people who have cars up there have skis with them?"

"Um, maybe. I'll have to go back up and check."

She heard other men's voices outside.

"We need at least four and maybe eight. We also need cord or rope, towels, and padding of any kind."

She reached Sandy again to find the girl breathing heavily and moaning.

She had ignored Ohshinnah's advice and was sitting up sideways.

At least her pelvis isn't fractured, Osh thought with relief. Most likely it was a hip dislocation.

"I have to touch your hip for a moment", she said, not waiting for approval.

Osh tried to determine how much swelling there was but the girl's clothing kept her from make a clear determination. She'd just have to go with her gut feeling. She felt sorry for Sandy, knowing how much pain she was going to have to suffer before they could get her out and really diagnose her condition.

"Sandy...?

The girl had her eyes closed and didn't reply.

"Sandy, listen to me! I know how much it's going to hurt but I can't help you as long as we're in here. We've got to get you out."

Sandy shook her head fiercely.

"I want to stay here."

"Look girl," Ohshinnah said forcefully, "this bus could blow up any minute. You want to be here for that?"

Sandy seemed to be weighing her words.

Lyndsey interrupted in a panic.

"I want to get out of here now!" She was pressing her hand against her side and huffing and puffing with pain but she was trying to climb to the open window.

Osh helped Mr. Sanchez pull her through the window and then turned back to Sandy.

"Okay," Sandy said in a resigned voice, "how do we do it?"

"We've got to get you on your feet and then up to the window so they can pull you through."

Sandy looked up at the window.

"That seems like a long way. How do I get up there?"

"Mr. Rolen will help me push you up but we'll probably have to push on your hip some...it's probably really gonna hurt but there's nothing we can do."

Sandy took a deep breath.

"Okay, let's do it. I definitely don't want to fry."

Osh turned again toward the front.

"Mr. Rolen, we're ready back here."

"I really don't want to leave her again."

I know it's hard Mr. Rolen, but the sooner we get Sandy and the other girl's out, the sooner we can begin to get Felicia ready."

That seemed to convince him and a minute later they were helping Sandy to her feet, squealing and gasping in pain. Osh knew it was nothing compared to the pain she'd feel when they actually had to push on her hip to get her out. She started shrieking and crying as soon as they started pushing her up to the waiting arms of Mr. Sanchez and one of the passersby that had stopped to help. Ohshinnah almost lost her balance and had to push extra hard to keep Sandy from tumbling sideways. She heard an audible pop and Sandy screamed.

Ohshinnah feared they had made her injury worse.

Sandy said suddenly, "What happened? It doesn't hardly hurt at all compared to a minute ago!" Her voice was filled with relief.

In another moment they had her up through the window and her feet disappeared from sight. Oshinnah realized that Sandy's hip had probably been dislocated and they were just lucky that it had popped back in on its own. It was one of the first good things, other than getting the girls out, that had happened. Only two more left, not counting the driver..

Mr. Rolen had already returned to Felicia's side. Osh decided they had to get her out next. Once she was out, Mr. Rolen would be more interested in helping get out the others.

"Mr. Sanchez?"

"Yes?"

"Have we got the skis and the other stuff down here yet?"

"Yeah, it's all here. We even got a roll of Gorilla Tape for you."

"Can you pass them through the...", Osh counted, "eleventh window back?"

"Coming up."

A minute later she saw the first of the skis coming through. She and Mr. Rolen took turns carefully bringing the skis through the window, followed by a roll of quarter inch nylon cording and a short length of rope. She crawled up and down the isle gathering all the pillows and blankets she could carry and then dug in her own backpack for the towel she always kept with her.

Felicia's eyes were now open and she appeared calm. Osh knew that with a neck or spine injury the shock might be delayed. Since Felicia couldn't move either her legs or arms, Oshinnah thought she probably had both neck and spinal injuries. They would have to be patient and careful not to cause her permanent injury, or make it worse!

Ohshinnah was grateful that Felicia had ended up lying flat on her back in a space wide enough that her neck and body were straight. She placed her hands on either side of Felicia's head to stabilize her head and neck. Felicia was breathing normally so Osh wasn't worried about her airway.

"Put your hands where mine are", she said to Wayne Rolen. "Keep her neck and head steady. Don't let them turn at all."

He nodded as she improvised a cervical collar from the towel the way she had been shown in her training classes. With her head and neck semi-stabilized, she had Mr. Rolen start laying down the skis until they had four of them side by side on the floor next to Felicia. They were so long they almost didn't fit in the space.

"Are there any more skis?", she yelled again.

"We've got six more! Another person stopped on their way to Sunny Ridge."

Ohshinnah felt a jump in her pulse. Maybe she could pull it off after all! She reassessed the number of skis they needed. It would take at least six for Felicia and probably another six for Debra to make them stable enough to work.

"We need two more now and then six more at window thirteen."

The two skis appeared immediately in the window. Lying them down next to the other four she was suddenly grateful for the duct tape. She hadn't even thought of that. She laid a number of pillows across the skis.

"We've got to get all these skis joined together with tape so they form a stiff board," she directed Wayne Rolen. "Think we can do that?"

"With enough duct tape we can do anything", Rolen said gruffly.

Five minutes later, they had a reasonable semblance of a board-like structure. Ohshinnah wasn't sure it would hold together under Felicia's weight but they had to take the chance. They'd only been able to use half the roll of tape because they had to save the other half to do the same thing for Debbra. Just creating a series of usable hand-holds had taken up a lot of the tape. It would have to do. Osh went over what she remembered about the lifting process and realized they were going to need at least two more adults inside and two outside.

"Mr. Sanchez, we're gonna need four more adults to do this."

There was a minute of silence before he replied.

"I'll have to run up top, but there's enough. I'll be right back."

Even though Ohshinnah knew it was only a short time before he returned, it seemed like an hour as they sat in the cold. She and Felicia were both shivering now. She could see Debbra was still not moving at all. Mr. Rolen blew on his hands and slapped his shoulders nervously. Their breath was visible in the frosty air. There was a shout from outside and Osh felt a jolt of energy return.

"Okay, we need two more adults in here, and two just outside the window."

"We're coming in", Mr. Sanchez replied.

"Can we make the opening any bigger?" Ohshinnah shouted, realizing the window space might be too small for the rudely-fashioned backboard with Felicia strapped to it. Most of the glass was gone but the sliding lower frame of the window wasn't blocking part of the opening. She remembered how hard it was to squeeze Coach Walker through.

An unfamiliar voice outside said, "I've got a saw I think'll do it."

"Can we do that right now?"

"I'll go get it."

In the meantime, Manny Sanchez and another man Ohshinnah didn't know pushed and pulled themselves through window thirteen, one seat back.

"Okay," Osh took charge, "this is how we'll do it. Mr... ", she looked into the green eyes of the man she didn't know.

"Samuels", he said, looking over her shoulder at Mr. Turley's corpse. "My name's Rick Samuels."

"Okay Mr. Samuels. First, I'm going to control her head and neck while you gently lift and slide her body, torso and legs together onto the board. We have to keep her straight the whole time if we can. Then we'll cover her with a couple of blankets and use more of the tape and some of the cording to secure her to the board. We'll wrap her at the ankles, just above the knee, below the hip, around the chest and finally, and very gently, around her forehead. Then, once she's strapped to the board, Mr. Samuels will guide her feet toward the window. Mr. Rolen and Mr. Sanchez will have to do most of the lifting and keeping the board from rolling sideways. I'll be supporting her head. Once we get the board out of the window to the point where its almost balanced we'll need hold her still so someone outside can take the board at her feet and hold it until you both get back outside to take the sides. Then we'll slide her down, with her head up, until someone else can take her head and stabilize it for the climb up the hill. Think we can do that?"

No one replied, they all seemed to have doubts.

"Come on, we can do this! And we don't have much time. We have to do it all over again for Debbra."

The man with a Sawz-All returned and they covered Felicia with a blanket and turned their eyes away as he sawed away the metal separating the top and bottom window frames and continued trying to enlarge the window space. After a few minutes he shut down the saw and stepped away.

"Is that alright?"

"That's good," Osh replied. "Okay. Let's do it. Careful of sharp edges."

Mr. Samuels squeezed into the space between Felicia's feet and the high side window. Mr. Rolen stayed where he was as Mr. Sanchez moved forward a seat and then reached over to grab the hand-holds they had fashioned from the tape. Ohshinnah slid around to where she could continue to stabilize Felicia's head and neck with the towel, even though they had duck tape wrapping her forehead to the rudely fashioned board.

"Okay, here we go. Lift!"

The men strained to lift the emergency board. Ohshinnah's heart skipped a beat as she saw the skis twist under Felicia's weight but then everything seemed to hold together and she breathed a little easier..

"Now, tilt your end up slowly, toward the window."

Gradually they got the end of the ski board holding Felicia's feet out the window.

"Okay, I can support her from here but you both need to get outside as fast as you can. Go! Now!"

Resting it on the ragged metal, Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Samuels jumped over the seat and hurriedly climbed out the windows they had come in through. In a moment they heard voices and saw two sets of hands grasp the board.

"We're ready."

The two men outside groaned under the weight as they struggled to lift the board straight up through the window. When half of the board was out, Osh stopped them to test how the board was balanced. Felicia's weight had shifted slightly more to one side but they were so close now Osh knew they were beyond being able to do anything about it.

"It's your turn to go out", Mr. Rolen."

Wayne Rolen reluctantly let go of his hold on the tape handle and looked at Osh with concern.

"You sure its balanced good enough you can hold it by yourself?"

"She needs you out there", she replied softly.

He nodded and climbed over the seat to exit through the next window

over. Felicia's eyes were open and staring at Ohshinnah.

"We are so lucky you were here," she said, tears sitting at the corners of her eyes and then running down into her hairline.

"It's time we got you out of here", Osh said firmly. She was afraid Felicia's emotions would transfer to her and she would lose it altogether.

"Ready?"

Osh lifted her end of the board easily as the weight shifted to the outside and down. It began to slip slowly out of the window.

"Make sure she doesn't come out too fast and don't tilt it so much that her head hits the top of the window," she commanded.

The board slid out the window with Ohshinnah carefully guiding Felicia's head, making sure the angle wasn't too steep. When just Felicia's head was left inside they stopped for new directions.

"Now somebody has to take the the sides of the towel to give more support to her neck. This is really important."

"I've got her".

It was a woman's voice. Osh recognized Felicia's mother and gratefully saw her strong-looking hands reach up to take the ends of the towel.

"On three". Osh drew a deep breath. "One. Two. Three."

The end of the board with Felicia's head disappeared through the window and a moment later a ragged cheer rose from those outside. She slumped with exhaustion for a moment before dragging herself down the isle to where Debbra Thompson lay, still unconscious.

"Can we take her off the board now?" someone outside called out.

"No way!" Osh yelled emphatically. "Get her up the hill the same way we got her out. One person at her feet, two on the side, and one supporting her head and neck. Once you get up there, lay her down flat and cover her with blankets 'til the Paramedics get here." As an after thought she added, "Mr. Rolen, I know you'll want to stay with her but I need you to come back and help me build another board for Debbra."

There was a long silence before he answered.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

Osh knelt beside Debbra to look at her more closely. She turned her head very slightly and saw an area of hair on her scalp matted with blood. A possible head injury, she thought to herself. She poked at it tenderly and could feel some swelling. She opened one of Debbra's eyelids and could see immediately that her pupils were unequal as they seemed to react crazily even in the diminished light. A clear fluid drained from her nose and her skin was pale yet flushed. She also noticed some bruising behind the ear. "Batlle's Sign", she said out loud, remembering the term from her class. Debbra had all the classic signs of a skull fracture. Only a professional could tell if she had a brain injury but her unconsciousness wasn't a good sign. She needed to get her out and to a hospital immediately.

She heard voices again outside the bus.

"Did everything go okay?"

"Yeah, we got her up there. Who's next?"

"Debbra. I think she has a skull fracture or a brain injury. We need to make another board, and quick!"

"Let's get to it then, the gas small out here is really strong!"

She recognized Mr. Rolen's voice. She was a little surprised he had left his daughter's side.

"Mr. Rolen, can you help put that together outside. I think it'll come together faster."

"We can do that."

They did it in half the time it had taken her and Wayne to do it. Within just a few short minutes they were handing in the ski-board and climbing in through the windows again. They repeated the same procedures they had with Felicia, taking more time to stabilize Debbra's head without putting extra pressure on it. The second time through, the board, with Debbra strapped to it, passed out the window with hardly a pause.

She could hear those outside as they struggled to carry the second board up the embankment. A long time seemed to pass before she heard them return.

"Now it's your turn Ohshinnah", Mr. Rolen said firmly. "Get your butt outta there."

Ohshinnah looked toward the driver's seat.

"What about Chuck... Mr. Adams, the bus driver?"

"We'll get him out, don't worry about him."

Ohshinnah hadn't given a thought to getting out since she had first begun helping her team. She felt confused for a moment, then noticed her big First Aide bag perched sideways a few seats away. She moved back down the aisle, picked it up, and tossed it out through the window where Chrissy, Brenna and Gennie had climbed out. A minute later she stood on the side of the seat and stuck her arms and head out of the window. Mr. Rolen and the other men roughly pulled her through and she sat in the cold snow beside the bus, beginning to feel all the bumps and bruises from the accident. There was a dull throbbing ache in her lower back. She was surprised at how high she had had to climb to get out the window yet it was only a short drop to the sloping ground.

A light snow was falling and it was getting colder. There was no smell except for the odor of gasoline. Mr. Sanchez, Mr. Rolen, and Mr. Samuels were up front, strategizing on how to get Chuck Adams out. Suddenly there was a loud poof and black smoke began to pour out from underneath the front of the bus. Mr. Rolen immediately ran back to the window they had opened wide for his daughter and jumped through head first, his feet slithering in behind him. She could see him frantically moving toward the driver but her eyes were drawn to the smoke. A shout from Mr. Sanchez caused her to jump. They could see orange-yellow flames beginning to lick the underside of the bus.

The men were yelling directions at each other all at the same time. Chuck Adams head appeared in the driver's side window, followed by his neck and shoulders. Obviously Mr. Rolen was lifting him up toward the window. The flames were getting higher now and she could feel the heat. Fear for the driver and Mr. Rolen caused her knees to shake so bad she had to stand up and move toward the front of the bus.

"I think you should move higher up the hill." It was Mrs. Rolen. She spoke again as she watched the unconscious body of Chuck Adams being pushed and dragged through the window. "You know, just in case."

Ohshinnah knew what she meant. She was telling her they should be farther away to be safe if the gas tank exploded. She was amazed at the bravery of the Rolen's. Their daughter was lying strapped to a board at the top of the hill while they worked to save Chuck Adams.

She brushed the wetness from the seat of her wet warmup pants and began to climb the hill, never taking her eyes off the men working to get Mr. Adams out. She slipped and fell on her face causing her shooting pain in her back. She gasped at how much it hurt. Maybe she was injured more severely than she thought. She looked back and saw that they had Mr. Adams half way out of the window. It was a tight fit and his belt buckle seemed to be caught on the bottom of the window. Just as it looked like he was stuck, his body popped out, like a baby sliding from a womb. At the same moment, the entire front of the bus was engulfed in flame. Mrs. Rolen screamed and Osh held her breath as she watched the men frantically grabbing for Mr. Rolen's hands and dragging him out through the flames. His clothes were on fire.

"Roll him in the snow!", she shouted, but the two men were already doing that.

Rick Samuels looked at her strangely, as if to say, "Who are you and do you think we're stupid?"

She looked away, embarrassed. She had gotten used to directing things inside the bus. She watched them lift Mr. Rolen to his feet. He was holding his hands up and away from him. They were probably burned, she thought. That reminded her of her bag and she looked around for it. It was lying in the snow only a few feet down the incline. She picked it up and began climbing toward the road again, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Rolen, Mr. Sanchez, and Mr. Samuels. They were half-carrying, half dragging the unconscious body of Chuck Adams.

As they reached the last ledge, before climbing the final embankment, a huge roar caused them all to fall to their knees and look back toward the bus. The gas tank had finally exploded and the whole front of the bus was blown out and burning. After a few seconds the rest of the bus went up in flames and a noxious smell wafted up the hill. They hurriedly climbed the last few feet on their hands and knees. Ohshinnah was the last one to top the rise, dragging her bag behind her. She turned and sat watching the bus burn for a few moments, then wearily got to her feet. She turned her head from side to side, listening for the sound of a siren, but all she could hear was the wind. Now that they were all on the road it seemed to have increased considerably, blowing snow into her face and stinging the raw, cold, exposed skin of her face and neck. The only sound beside that of the wind was the quiet sobbing of a few of the girls sitting in cars with the doors open and the heaters running full blast. She saw Jo Jo, Angelina, Chrissy, Brenna and Gennie huddled together by the open door of the Sanchez's 4X4. Ohshinnah picked up her bag and slowly walked toward them. Sandra sat on a pillow with her back against one of the tires.

"Here she comes", JoJo sang, using the Ms. America contest theme song, "our Mother Teresa."

Osh made a face and put up one of her fingers. Then she opened her bag.

"Okay, Jo. Where do you hurt?"

JoJo saw she was serious and pointed to her right elbow and hand.

"Here".

Osh could see that the two areas she pointed to were red and swollen but not enough time had passed for the black and blue coloring to present. That would come later

"Keep this elevated". She popped one of her many chemical cold packs from her bag. "Then you need to ice it for the next twenty-four hours. After that, warm compresses. If the pain or swelling get worse, get your butt to Tribal Health."

JoJo grimaced as she felt the cold against her skin. "Great. Ice treatments during a blizzard", she said sarcastically. She looked up at Osh. "And the doctor has spoken." She saw the exhausted look on Osh's face. "And...thanks."

Ohshinnah only had enough energy to nod before she moved on to Angelina, who was holding her arm tight to her chest. She had a few large cuts that Osh dressed with butterfly bandages though she knew they would need stitching later.

"So you think its busted?" she said, nodding toward Angie's arm.

Angie nodded.

"Upper or lower?"

"Lower."

"I'll need to look at it."

Angie looked uncertain.

"Shouldn't we wait for the paramedics?"

"If you want...your decision."

Angelina appeared to decide.

"No, you do it."

Ohshinnah gently pushed up the warm-up jacket. There wasn't any deformity of the bones and it wasn't open and she had a number of splints in her bag. She placed one on the top and the other on the bottom of the arm as JoJo wrapped it with adhesive tape. Osh watched her closely to make sure she didn't wrap it too tight. Then she folded the arm across and against Angie's chest with the palm in and thumb up, the way she'd been taught.

She used one of the two slings she had to support the arm and patted Angie on the shoulder, "It'll be alright. Don't worry."

"It hurts."

"I know, unfortunately I don't have painkillers."

"Too bad your brother ain't here," JoJo snorted.

She saw the look on Osh's face and knew she shouldn't have said it the moment the words came out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry Sneakers", she said earnestly, but Osh was already walking with her bag to the car where Lyndsey was sitting, door open, her legs on the ground outside.

"Where exactly does it hurt, Lyndsey?"

The girl looked up, then raised her warm-up and uniform shirt to point at her lower ribs.

"Not much I can do for broken ribs. Keep your arm in and lean toward it if that feels more comfortable. Keep your breathing shallow, don't cough, and stay still. The paramedics will be here soon."

Lyndsey shook her head in agreement. Actually, Osh had no idea how long it would be before they'd get there. She went to Sandy but she was only sore since the hip had popped back into place. Amanda had been bundled in blankets and her color had returned but she was walking around aimlessly.

"Do you feel nervous? Mandy? She noticed the girl was breathing rapidly.

"What did you say?", said the girl. "I'm thirsty."

Ohshinnah knew that Amanda was in severe shock. She made her lay down across the car seat, then propped her feet up with a pillow to elevate them and covered her with blankets. Sandy appeared with a bottled water and offered it to her.

"No!", said Osh firmly. She can't eat or drink right now."

As if on cue, Amanda began to vomit. Ohshinnah gently took her head and turned first it, then her body, to the side.

"Watch her," she said to Sandy. "Make sure she stays like that 'til the ambulance gets here."

Osh knelt for a moment by Felicia and Debbra, lying on their respective ski-boards, covered with blankets. There wasn't anything she could do for them. Coach Walker and Chuck Thompson were also lying on blankets on the ground. Someone had partially inflated an air mattress under the coach.

Osh went over to him and got down on both knees.

"How ya feelin', Coach?"

"My chest still hurts but not as bad as it did."

Ohshinnah knew he was in grave danger. He could have another heart attack at any time. She got a chewable aspirin from her kit.

"Here Coach, chew this up", she put it in his mouth. She noticed sweat on his upper lip and at his hairline. "Are you having cold sweats?"

He nodded.

"Coach needs more blankets", she said to no one in particular.

She knew that he had survived the first hour and that was a good sign. Still, the bad symptoms could return at any time. His chances of getting through without some damage weren't good. It had already been more than an hour and the ambulance wasn't even here yet. There was no way they could get him the new meds in the first two hours.

His eyes were closed again when she rose to her feet and stepped back to where Mr. and Mrs. Rolen huddled by their daughter. He was holding his hands out in front of him strangely. As she got closer she could see the burns. His hands were almost black and his shirt cuffs were burned away with the arms of his shirt scorched. His eyebrows and some of the front part of his hair had been burned away.

Osh stood in front of him without bumping his hands and looked closely at his face and scalp. The burns there were only first degree. She looked down at his hands and almost gasped out loud. He had a mixture of what looked like second and third degree burns all over them. She knew better than to try and remove the burned clothing on his arms. He was shivering noticeably.

"Mr. Rolen, you need to sit down." She glanced at Mrs. Rolen. "Can we get him a couple of blankets and some water. We need to get his temperature stable, put something under his elbows so he can rest his arms yet keep his hands and arms elevated. He needs to drink to avoid dehydration. I'm going to cover his hands with loose sterile gauze. That's all we can do right now."

After they had finished making him comfortable and wrapping his hands, Osh drew Mrs. Rolen away for a moment and said, "He's not feeling the pain right now because of the severity of the burns. I hope..." she trailed off as she heard a sound that made her want to cry out with joy. It was the sound of sirens in the distance.

Osh watched as they loaded Felicia and her Dad in one ambulance, Debbra Thompson and Amanda in another, Coach Walker and Chuck Thompson in the third and Lyndsey Porter in the fourth. She saw one of the Paramedics and the Fire Chief talking to Mrs. Rolen. They kept looking her way. She pretended not to see them as she helped the other girls get into the vehicles. Rick Samuels stopped by to shake her hand.

"You were amazing down there, you know. Most everyone owes you for their lives. I'll pray for you...and them. Then he drove off in his Jeep Cherokee, honking loudly as he left.

It was getting dark and the snow was coming down hard. There were so many Highway Patrol cars there now they made a long line down the side of the road. A couple more ambulances showed up but soon drove off again.

"Young lady?" An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind her. She turned. "My name is Bill Coggs. I'm the Fire Chief and I just want you to know how impressed I am with what I'm told you did here today."

Ohshinnah lowered her head and looked at the ground the way a lot of Natives do when they are faced with embarrassing praise.

"I mean it", the Fireman said, misinterpreting her embarrassment as disbelief. "This was a big time rescue you pulled off almost single-handedly!"

"I...I had lots of help."

"Yeah, okay. I understand. But someone needed to say it."

He put out his hand. Osh took it and gave him the limp handshake she always gave to non-Natives she didn't know. Then she stood quietly and watched him and all the other vehicles drive away, except for the Highway Patrol Officers that would remain on the scene until everyone was gone.

Mr. Sanchez was driving the Rolen's Dodge Van so Mrs. Rolen drove their Toyota Corolla. Gennie, Wendy and Sandy went with Mrs. Sanchez. Osh, Jojo, Angelina, and Chrissy went with Mr. Sanchez. Osh sat in silently in front. No one else spoke either. She couldn't get Coach Turley's face out of her mind. After about half an hour she glanced into the back to see all the other girls fast asleep. She had begun to tremble as she finally relaxed, not realizing how long she had been tensed and fearful. She pulled a blanket over her and pressed her face against the glass as the evening darkened into night. White flakes filled the air in the glare of the headlights. It only took her a few more moments to fall into a deep sleep.

The next week was a whirlwind. Every news organization in the area wanted to interview her. News Vans were parked outside their house every day for four days. She avoided the local news and radio, sick of hearing her name. Her family had stayed out of it and she hadn't spoken much to them. Actually, she didn't feel like talking at all. She developed a little speech she parroted to the news people and by the end of the week she could rattle it off without even thinking. The School Board had voted to give her a Commendation for Community Service and allowed her to take a week off from school to recover from the ordeal. Mostly she stayed in her room, reading about each of the injuries and problems she had been faced with to compare what she had done to what she should have done. Afterward, she felt satisfied that she had done everything she could.

At the end of the week, after the last news van had pulled out of their gravel driveway, her Mom drove her into town to the hospital. Angelina had gone home very late the night of the crash with her broken fibula set and cast. Amanda was released the next day. Mr. Rolen had gone home for a few days but had come back due to a small infection developing in his left hand. He'd gone home again only a few hours before she got there. Osh was sorry she'd missed him. Debbra was still in the ICU in a coma. Ohshinnah looked in on her to find her family there. They told her the doctors had performed a surgery in the first days to relieve the pressure and swelling inside her skull. Now they were planning another surgery. She could see that they were bracing themselves for the worst.

Feeling depressed, she shuffled down the hall to Coach Walker's room. She felt a little better when she found him sitting up in bed watching TV.

His face lit up in a huge smile when he saw her.

"Here she is, my guiding Angel."

Osh look away, embarrassed.

He noticed and changed tone.

"Well, even if you're not an angel, talking you into being the Team Manager was the best thing I ever did. If you'd just quit, I wouldn't have a team to Coach next year." He switched to another subject. "The doctors say I won't suffer any permanent damage. They're going to put in a stint and do some other stuff to my tubing and I should be right as rain."

"I'm glad", was all she could say.

"Are you alright?"

Osh shrugged. After the "Event", as her brother called it, she was having a hard time dealing with normality. Elaine Feather, at Tribal Health, had suggested she go to a Counselor when she went there to have her back checked out.

"Sometimes after something like this happens a person needs to talk to about it. I know a Doctor in town if you need one."

Ohshinnah had told her she would think about it, but she didn't. Now, here in the Hospital walking toward Felicia's room, she felt like bawling. When she got to the door she pulled herself together. Mrs. Rolen got up to embrace her as soon as she entered. She could feel the genuine warmth and emotion in the woman's hug. Felicia was making progress. Her neck wasn't damaged but she had some small hairline fractures in her spinal vertebrae. Still, she had made some progress and was now able to move her hands and fingers but still didn't have any feeling in her lower body. Ohshinnah couldn't imagine how she felt, being such a great athlete one moment and then lying in this bed the next. Felicia smiled when Osh leaned over her.

"I'm glad you're here. I missed you."

Osh felt her eyes fill with tears and she couldn't stop them from streaming down her cheeks. She felt a touch on her hand and saw Felicia's fingers barely touching her own. She leaned down further and gave the paralyzed girl a hug.

"You get better quick and maybe we can shoot some hoops."

Felicia nodded slightly as Osh touched her hand, then gave Mrs. Rolen a quick hug and fled from the room.

She didn't know why, but she felt guilty. She had attended Coach Turley's wake and had a very hard time keeping her composure as she watched his widow and two small children trying to make sense of their lives without a husband and father. Chuck Adams had passed away as well. Mr. Adams hadn't died of his injuries but of a stroke. His wife said in the newspaper that he had died of a broken heart. She continued down the hall looking at the floor as she walked. Turning a corner she bumped head-on into a large Indian man. She looked up and saw it was Tommy.

"Making your rounds, eh?"

Osh nodded.

"So what's the plan now?"

She shrugged.

"Snap out of it, we're gonna need you in the E.R."

She gave him a questioning look.

"I talked to the Administrator and, providing you're properly supervised, he has agreed to allow you to hang out with the new interns."

Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to speak but he cut her off.

"Also you're going to be assisting me with my practice at my office. Just basic things at first, but we're gonna get you on a fast track into either nursing or, if you want, Med School.

Ohshinnah made a flippant wave and said, "My family could never afford anything like that."

"Who said anything about your family having to pay? The Town Council agreed to put up the money for your education. I've never heard of anything like that happening before, especially for a Native." He waved her off as she tried again to respond. "When they found out that you'd taken the initiative to take classes and learn on your own, they decided it was only right. He looked at her solemnly. "Don't run away from it. Too many of our people do. They go off to school and get homesick or can't handle people criticizing them for wanting to be something more and working hard to get it. Someone else's commitment to mediocrity shouldn't keep you from your dreams, believe me I know. You can do this. I'll help you. Shoot, everybody in this town will help you! See you after school Monday, four PM?

Ohshinnah took a deep breath.

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"Good."

The big Salish walked away and didn't look back.

Her family held a give-away in her honor at that summer's Ceremonial. She stood in front of the mirror for a long time on that morning admiring the dress her mother and grandmother had made for her. It was traditional white buckskin with all the beadwork, elk teeth, rolled tobacco-tin cones, horse-hair, and fringe it could carry. The day had turned out to be the proudest day of her life. She hadn't expected so many of her people to be there and was embarrassed at the attention while, at the same time, she reveled in it. Even her brother's attempt to piss her off had failed. She'd just smiled at him until he got angry and stomped off. Later, as she was sitting in the stands watching the Jingle Dress competition, he sat down beside her.

"I didn't mean to do that. I guess I've always been jealous of you. What you did was pretty awesome."

"I'm proud of you too Bro...a three point average! Eeeyaay! How many people did you have to cheat off to get that?"

He jerked back in feigned surprise. "Woah, that's harsh!" His smiled returned as he nudged her and said, "How bout that last game, eh...five three pointers."

"Yeah but how many points did you give up?"

"Not as many as I used to," he said proudly.

"Yeah, our family is awesome."

"Got that right. We're on top of the Ridge!"

She laughed and moved her body to the drum.

Oshinnah sat in her Uncle's truck, watching the morning sun come over the eastern edge of the mountains. She had her driver's license now and was allowed to take her Mom's car into town for work and school but then her Nana had given her the truck. She was only allowed to drive it on the Rez because it wasn't registered, but she was getting around. She was a Senior now. It had been almost two years since the "Event". The girl's team had won the State Championship this year and Coach Walker had announced his retirement. She was way too busy to be any kind of sports team manager. Her grade point average was good enough to get her into a pretty good college and she had already completed all her LVN studies thanks to the Workforce Investment Act program in town. She wasn't working at the hospital anymore but she was still working at Tommy's office.

She'd decided she wanted to be a doctor after all. She'd personally championed the offering of more basic First Aide classes at the High School and the Fire Department was holding three times as many First Aide and CPR certification classes to the public than they used to. She also gotten used to being recognized around town, along with all the ribbing and genuinely hurtful things her own people said to her. Tommy had assured her it was that way on every Rez. He said it was part of the continuing PTSD their people still suffered from the past. Recently she'd read an article in a magazine about some doctor studying the Palestinian people for generational PTSD. That was a waste of travel money, she thought. The dysfunctional remains of Five Hundred Nations still dealt with six to ten generations of sorrowful history behind them, and it was right in front of all those scientific noses for study!

Ohshinnah got out of the truck and looked around, inhaling the sweet pine scent. The air was mild and the birds were making a racket at her appearance. She hadn't been here since her Uncle Tim died. She looked at the 22 rifle nestled in its open case sitting on the tailgate. After a moment she zipped it back up and put it back in the truck. She took her camera out of its shiny black vinyl case lying on the front passenger seat and adjusted the lens for light. Then she put the expensive telephoto and wide angle lenses in her fanny pack. Her family had pitched in together to get them for her at the Winter Solstice.

Stepping out with a spring in her legs, Osh slowly entered the lodgepole forest, stopping every few steps to look and listen. She experienced an overwhelming and exhilarating sense of complete freedom as she said a little prayer of gratitude for her Uncle Tim. She was certain that his spirit had made sure the squirrels knew she was coming. They would be waiting for her, unafraid.

Half N Half

Donnie Sands sat on his BMX bike, waiting for his turn to hit the half-pipe. Sirens blared in the distance then got closer and stopped. He shifted restlessly on the seat, humming along with one of the songs from his Uncle on his IPod Touch. It was a famous Native drum group called Black Lodge. He was just trying to learn one of the songs but it wasn't easy. It took a whole new approach to singing. He had to loosen up his voice and forget about Western ideas of melody, especially to get the right tone on the high notes.

He only had this week of school left and then he was out for the summer. He'd just finished his junior year for the Madison High Vikings with a 3.2 grade point average. He only played basketball, so he practiced year round. This season he'd been chosen to represent his school as their only All-League Varsity player. The team had finished with thirteen wins and twelve losses so they hadn't made the Post Season Tournament. He was happy for the break from schoolwork and was looking forward to the various camps and practices scheduled for the team this summer.

It was almost his turn on the track. He tightened his helmet strap. A group of boys came out of the Projects behind him. He could hear Rap blaring from an old beat up boom-box. No I-Pods for these kids, he thought ruefully. They were laughing and cursing as they crossed the street toward him. His blood pressure jumped as they got closer. He tried to ignore them, staring at the boy finishing his next to the last jump on the course.

"Hey, that's a nice bike," one of the boys said.

He was stocky and short and walked with a swagger. Donnie thought he was about twelve years old and maybe he was the leader of the group. The rest of the boys varied in ages down to about ten. He didn't see gang colors but that didn't mean anything. The boy's pants were typically baggy and hung down halfway his hips, his white boxers in full view. Donnie pretended to ignore them.

"Hey! I'm talking to you. What you doing around here?"

Donnie didn't say anything but he pointed at the track.

"Oh, come here to play huh? Well, we'd like to play too. Why don't you loan us your bike so we can take a couple of jumps?"

Donnie was getting nervous. With these boys their age didn't matter, they were still dangerous in a group. If they'd grown up on the street in this area and lived in the Stratford Projects they were well versed in violence, coercion and bullying. He didn't wait to see what would happen next and stood up on his pedals driving off toward the track as fast as he could. Donnie glanced back over his shoulder and saw the boys staring at him but not following. He took a deep breath in relief and slowed down. Looking toward the track, he realized he'd lost his enthusiasm for riding today. He changed course and began the half mile ride through the streets to his Mom's house cutting through alleys and between cars to shorten the time

His Mom's Dodge Durango was parked on the street. She hadn't left for work yet. She was a surgical nurse at Midlands General Hospital. It was a very warm mid-afternoon on a late June day. He was sweating freely through his T-shirt as he rode up the driveway and dropped his bike near the front door. Donnie had been out of school for about a week and he was already getting bored. His Mom had wanted him to sign up for swimming or the library reading program or some other lame program to keep him out of trouble. Donnie snorted. He didn't know what she was worried about, he'd been suspended once from school this year for fighting. He burst through the front door and bounded up the stairs three at a time to his room.

"Donnie?" he heard his Mother call. "Are you back already? Did you biff it?

Donnie thought it sounded funny when his Mom tried to use contemporary slang.

"Nah", he yelled back. "I didn't feel like riding anymore."

"So what are you going to do tonight?"

Donnie knew his Mom didn't like leaving him alone, but she had to work an extra night shift this week.

"I'm just gonna listen to music or read."

"What are you reading now?"

"Alexie's "The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian."

"Is it good."

"I guess. Some of it I can relate to...some not. I'm also reading a book of poetry and stories called "Navajo Spaceships" that's pretty cool.

"Who wrote that?"

"A guy named Johnny Rustywire, but I don't think that's his real name."

"Ok. Just don't go out without giving me a call."

"Yeah."

"Promise?"

Donnie sighed. His Mom was so worried about him since he'd gotten in a couple of fights last year. She didn't seem to realize they weren't street or gang fights, it was just two guys dukin it out."

"I promise, Mom."

Donnie waited 'til he heard the front door shut, then went to his CD player, slid in a Black Lodge disc and turned up the volume to a deafening level. He went to the fridge and stood there for a moment trying to decide whether he was hungry or not and decided he wasn't. He pulled out a Gatorade and flipping the cap into the recyclable garbage can, went into the living room and flopped down on the couch with his feet up to start the "Diary" He was interested to see what "Part-Time Indian" was about.

Donnie's Mom, Margie Big Horse, had married his Dad, Ollie Sands, after meeting him at Haskell University in Lawrence, Kansas. Haskell had been an Indian School for a long time and had long overcome its checkered past. His Dad had played basketball for Haskell and she'd met him after one of the games.

Donnie could remember his Mom telling him that his Dad had first proposed when they were coming back from visiting the small graveyard on the Campus where children that had died during the 'boarding school' years for Indians were buried. "Kill the Indian, Save the Man" was the prevailing theory of militaristic educators at that time. She hadn't accepted his proposal then but by the end of the semester she decided that she loved his dark good looks, his piercing eyes, his athleticism, and his upbeat attitude. Her parents hadn't been happy when she told them that instead of coming back to the Rez after school was out, she was going with Ollie to Oklahoma to stay with him in the Mvskoke Nation. Their trip to Indian Territory was uneventful and Ollie's relatives reminded him of her own. No one seemed to have any objection to their marriage so they went into Tulsa and were married by a Justice of the Peace. Ollie was a proud Creek and was well-versed in his people's history. He was fascinated by the leader, Tecumseh, as well as the history of that time. He was also a weekend drinker.

At first Margie thought she could deal with it because drinking was common on her Rez as well. Both her Uncle and her Auntie's drank regularly. She thought it was better than cranking and Ollie always made it to work every Monday morning and all through the work week. Still, every Friday night, Ollie would start up with a few beers and by nightfall he'd be blasted. It was like clockwork. As the weeks passed she began to be frustrated that every weekend was taken up with his drinking. They never went out, never did anything. During those times she was virtually alone despite being surrounded by his relatives.

One Saturday night she confronted him about it. She told him she was tired of sitting at home and mentioned, just in passing, that she was used to staying busy and she was going to start looking for a job. At first he went silent and walked away without saying anything. Then a few minutes later he came back, walked right up to her and back-handed her across the mouth. Blood spurted from her split lips as she staggered backward. His reaction shocked her to her core. She had never seen this side of him. She ran to the bedroom and locked the door. He followed close behind, cursing in English and talking in his language. She had no idea what he was saying. He made a half-hearted attempt to bust down the door but only damaged the frame and stomped away, still yelling.

Margie went into the bathroom to examine the damage. Both of her lips were split about half an inch, two of her front teeth were loose and she had a red mark that stretched from the side of her cheek all the way across her mouth on the right side. She tried to understand why the outburst had happened. At Haskell she'd never even seen him drink a beer, let alone get violent about anything!

At first, Marge agonized about what she should do. She had to face the truth of her situation and make up her mind. She'd lived around enough alcoholics to know that the chances of this happening again were virtually one-hundred percent. Only one person she had known in her life had conquered his drinking and that was her father.

She called the bus station to find out when she could get a bus that would take her home. The next bus was at nine the next morning. She pulled down her travel case, filled it with the few clothes and belongings she had brought with her and hid it in the downstairs closet of their townhouse. She knew Ollie would sleep until noon the next day so he wouldn't even know she was gone. Out of respect for his parents she called his mother and, after a short conversation about the assault, told her of her plan to return home. Ollie's mother didn't even try to talk her out of it, even mentioning that most of Ollie's girlfriends had suffered some of the same kind of treatment over the years--even as far back as in high school. The bus ride was long and boring. She wasn't able to relax until they crossed the border onto the Redlands Rez.

Donnie stopped reading for a moment to look up at his Dad's photograph on the wall. He looked more like his Mom than his Dad. His skin was very light (unless he got a lot of sun), and his eyes were brown but his hair was just two shades darker than blond. Everyone said that he got his hair and skin color from his paternal Grandfather, who was three-quarters white. In the city, Donnie was considered white. Unless he told them, no one would know that he was Native.

His Dad had stayed in Oklahoma when his Mom had returned home. She'd stayed on the Rez through the late-summer PowWow and Ceremonial season before moving to Midlands to attend college. She had her LVN certificate and was taking pre-requisites for an RN program. She'd finished her BA in Education at Haskell but her dream was to become a registered nurse. Her Tribe offered her the opportunity to use Tribal Education Funds to pursue that dream. Around the time she found out she was pregnant. She crammed her schedule with classes during her pregnancy and when Donnie was born in April of the following year, she finished up and became a full-fledged RN. She didn't look for a job right away, but when Donnie was about a year old she'd applied at Midlands General and had been climbing the seniority ladder ever since.

During the passing years his Mom and Dad had reconciled but decided that it was better to live apart. His Mom had become a surgical nurse, and then a senior RN at Midlands. She'd purchased a home before the housing bubble burst and was fortunate that she'd had the resources to keep paying her mortgage while so many others lost their homes. All of the houses around them had gone into foreclosure. A couple were still empty but the rest were either being rented or the foreclosed families had moved back in to force the banks to prove they had title to their properties.

His Dad had come to visit the first time when he was two and had made it a point to visit at least once a year ever since. He'd tried to get Donnie to come and visit him in Oklahoma but hadn't succeeded. His relationship with his Dad was good but not really affectionate. Ollie had a dry sense of humor and was a fountain of information about Mvskoke culture and history, but was generally reserved and quiet. He offered to teach Donnie the Mvskoke language but Donnie knew that without going to Oklahoma and living there, learning the language at a distance would be close to impossible.

On his Mom's Rez, the language was virtually gone and the only people to attend the recently instituted language restoration program were white people. Donnie was extremely nervous and uncomfortable about going to either Rez, mostly because of the way he looked. He'd only been to his Mom's Rez four or five times during his life. His best memory had been staying with his Auntie and Uncle on their horse ranch, but he felt like an outsider anywhere else on the Rez. He'd taken an interest in the histories of both his Mom and his Dad's tribes when he was in eighth grade and voraciously read every book about Indians he could find for the next two years. Now that he was older he had a clear vision of what had happened to Native people, and was drawn to the description of the old free days in the books he read, but he knew that the romantic portrayals of the past had no relationship to the present and maybe didn't have much to do with the actual past either.

He knew his Dad still drank but while he had visited Donnie never saw him drink. He'd seen it all on his Mom's Rez; the drunks, the tweakers, the huffers, the pill-poppers...if there was a dependency problem anywhere you could find an example of it at Redlands. But there were people still free of the old ghosts and spirits that caused so much of the present suffering. He saw them at the Fourth of July PowWow, sitting in their folding chairs from the time of Grand Entry to the last give-away and contest dance. He also knew they were the people that participated in the Ceremonies and Renewal.

Despite his Auntie's encouragement he was too shy to made any friends there and he always walked straight from his Mom's trailer and camp to the grounds and back. It didn't seem like any of the kids there noticed him at all. Donnie thought that unless they'd seen him sitting with his Mom, Grandparents, or Auntie, they probably thought he was with the gaggle of white visitors that always seemed to show up during the PowWow season. He'd been surprised to find out that a lot of these people were Europeans from all over Europe. One of them even gave him a cassette tape of an Irish drum group that sounded so authentic he was astounded.

He'd only walked around the midway circling the grounds once, ordering a fresh, shaken lemonade and a huge Indian Taco. At the PowWow, the kids his age and younger ran freely around in couples or in groups. Few of them watched the dancing at all unless their Elders forced them into the bleachers. He'd helped stuff trash into black plastic bags every morning to clean the grounds for that day's dance. He felt like that was his contribution to the People and, for a short time, it gave him a sense that he belonged there. That had only lasted a short time. As he climbed up into the stands with his drink and food he accidentally bumped a teen about his own age, spilling the teen's drink. The kid gave him a withering look of disgust.

"Freakin' white boy spilled my beer!" he heard the boy say to his friends as he walked away.

His feeling of belonging evaporated and he went back to his tent, feeling out of place and lonely as he fell asleep to the sound of the drum.

Donnie's thoughts were interrupted by the house phone. He considered letting it ring, but forced himself to get up and answer it.

"Yeah?"

"Donnie?"

"Uh-huh."

"This is your Auntie Lil."

"Oh, Hi Auntie."

"How are you? How's your Mom? How's school?"

His Aunt had a habit of asking questions in bunches. Donnie had to focus to remember what she'd asked.

"Uh, I'm good, Mom's good, and school..." he paused, "is school".

"That's good. We just wanted to call and let you and your Mom know that we have to come to the city next week and we'd like to visit."

"That would be great. I'm sure Mom will like that."

"Okay then, we'll see you Friday afternoon around four."

"I'll tell Mom. Bye."

"We don't say goodbye, Donnie", his Auntie said gently.

"Oh. Okay, we'll see you."

"Love you, Don."

Donnie hung up the phone and immediately sent a text to his Mom with the news. As an after-thought he texted her again to tell her he was going down to the Walnut Avenue Health Center. His Mom had gotten them memberships for their family Earth Renewal present last year. They didn't go there often, but Donnie felt comfortable there and it was a safe place to work out or shoot hoops.

He pulled on his sweater and headed out. On his bike, it only took him about ten minutes to get there. He locked his bike up out front, went in to show his membership card, got a ball from behind the counter and walked to the half-court gym. There wasn't anybody on the court at the time and Donnie was surprised. Usually it was full or there was a game going on. He bounced the ball hard against the hardwood floor, relishing the sound.

Donnie loved basketball. He had been playing organized ball since the third grade. BMX was something he did for fun and the adrenalin rush, but basketball was his first love. Both his Mom and Dad had been high school stars. His Mom had told him his Dad had been offered a Division One scholarship, but after only a few weeks he'd gotten homesick and left school. Donnie knew that it was common for Indians to get scholarships but leave before finishing school. It was due to the pressures of school, of homesickness, and a lack of support from the Tribe. He hoped those days were ending. He also vowed that if he ever got an opportunity like that he'd ride it as far as it would take him.

He crouched low and executed a quick direction change by dribbling between his legs, then drove the lane as hard as he could, finishing with a back layover. He spent the next half hour practicing different types of layups, short hooks, and short corner shots. An older man entered the gym, stretched for little while, and then joined him on the court. Since he started shooting mid-to-long range jumpers and set shots, Donnie did the same. His jump shots seemed off but his set shots dropped through regularly. They both went to three-pointers at the same time, racing to retrieve their own rebounds when they missed. The older man left after about forty-five minutes. Donnie stood at the line practicing his free throws. He shot in groups of ten and didn't feel right about his performance until he could hit at least seven of ten. At one point he made twelve in a row but that was the best he could do. He spent a few more minutes dribbling, then went to the locker room to shower, steam, shower again and dress. He sat in the lobby watching the Sharks win their hockey game against the Calgary Flames while his hair dried, then went out to unlock his bike and make the quick ride home.

Donnie woke up early on Thursday, wondering for a moment if he was late for school, then felt relief as the reality of summer break settled in again. He made himself some oatmeal and toast while he watched the morning news, then dressed and left the house. It was a beautiful mid-June day and he could see and smell the newly cut grass a local landscaper had just finished mowing. He aired up his bike tires and rode straight to the BMX dirt track, spending the next three hours trying to perfect three of the simpler tricks; the Bar Spin, the CanCan and the NacNac. A couple of times his feet missed his pegs on the NacNac and he came down hard on his seat. His last jump landing was the worst and he ended up going head over heels onto the hard-packed dirt. A couple of guys he only knew by sight rushed over to see if he was alright.

He'd always been impressed by the camaraderie of the BMX riders, some of whom competed for big money on the professional circuit. Most of them genuinely respected each other and gave each other support when they needed it. He liked the fact that they competed hard but didn't let that come between them as people. It gave the sport a family feeling that he was impressed with.

Donnie slowly climbed to his feet, assuring the concerned onlookers that he was okay, then picked up his bike to check it for damage. The handlebars were a little crooked but he was able to straighten them without much effort. Then he gingerly threw a leg over and pedaled home, taking his time.

His Mom had had to leave early for work and he found her note telling him his dinner was in the microwave. After reading it, he went straight to the bathroom and took as hot a shower as he could stand. After drying himself, he pulled on a pair of shorts and went into the living room to flop on the couch. He didn't even turn the TV on. He wondered if his Auntie and Uncle would be different. He hadn't seen them since he was about ten. After a little while he put his plate of broccoli, mashed potatoes and roast beef into the microwave and nuked his food until it steamed. Then he returned to the living room, turned on the TV to watch the Weather Channel for a moment, then surfed the channels as he ate, trying to find something he could watch. He found a dated documentary about a Native girl from Oregon that was a great basketball player and the struggles she went through to choose a college and deal with all the problems Native youth dealt with. It was uplifting and depressing at the same time. Donnie knew that since he hadn't grown up on the Rez he hadn't faced a lot of the problems Rez kids deal with every day and he was glad of that. He didn't mind that his Mom had moved to the city. Other than what he'd read, he didn't have any real experience interacting with either of his Tribes. Occasionally he felt guilty about not being brave enough to want to go there and find out what it was like, but those times were few. He fell asleep as one documentary ended and the next, something about fast food, began.

Both Donnie and his Mon were at home the next evening when his Auntie Lil and Uncle George showed up in their new crew-cab Chevy truck with dual tires in the back. He looked at the clock. It was just after four, almost to the minute when they said they would be there.

"No Indin-time for them", Donnie thought.

Auntie Lil (short for Lillie), had smooth walnut brown skin like his Mom, but her hair was brown with red highlights. She was short, also like his Mom, but her personality more than made up for her physical size. Lillie was loud, genuine, warm and bubbly, completely different from the reserved, laid back woman he had imagined. She was dressed in a turquoise blue ribbon-skirt she had sewn herself, along with a loose white frilly blouse. She kissed him on both cheeks effusively and then grabbed her sister in a bear hug that lasted a long time.

"Oh, its so good to see you, Sis," she cried.

Donnie could see the remnants of tears on her cheeks. He saw that his Mom's eyes were wet too.

"Its been way too long," his Mom agreed. "How are you, Frank?"

"I'm good."

Uncle Frank was a big man, at least six foot two. He had a lanky frame that his clothes hung on loosely. His jeans looked like they were about to slide down his narrow hips at any moment. His face was heavily tanned and freckled and his eyes were green and lively. He had a friendly smile, not too bright and not too reserved. He wore a jean jacket that looked like it had seen better days and Donnie noticed that his blue jeans, though ironed and clean, were worn at the knees and frayed where they hung over his cowboy boots. Donnie was relieved that he wore a John Deere baseball cap rather than a cowboy hat.

His Mom and Auntie Lil went to the kitchen right away, talking fast and giggling like younger girls. He and Uncle Frank sat at opposite ends of the couch. The TV was on and tuned to a reality show called "Top Shot". It was a competition of some of the top shooters in the country using all kinds of weapons and firearms. He noticed that his Uncle was watching it intently.

"This is a wicked show," Donnie said hesitantly, trying to break the ice and start a conversation.

"I've never seen it before. These blokes are good."

Donnie's jaw dropped. His Uncle spoke with a heavy British accent!

"Where you from, Uncle?"

"Noticed my accent, huh? I'm from Scotland originally but my parents moved to London when I was a kid. I always wanted to come to the U.S. I watched a lot of Westerns." He smiled sheepishly. "I made quite a lot of money so I was able to buy some land. One of my friends and business clients, a German man, has been coming to America for years to see the Cheyenne July Fourth PowWow at Lame Deer, Montana. I went up there one year and met a white guy from this area. He was in Real Estate and told me about some of the spreads for sale out here. I left their PowWow early and drove here to catch the end of the one here. I met your Auntie in the midway. I knocked her drink out of her hand and when I apologized she asked me where I was from." Frank lowered his head conspiratorially, "I think it was the accent." He smiled and continued. "She offered to drive me around to look at some of the properties near the Rez and I found the Ranch. It was just what I always dreamed of. I went back to London and arranged to buy it and move. By the time I got back your Aunt had decided to marry me. She was quite explicit. I took the least route of resistance and we were married almost before I was moved in. It took us a few years to get our stock purchased and the Ranch going but we've loved every minute of it."

"Every minute of what?" Auntie Lil asked from the entry to the kitchen. She was carrying a tray of chips and dip and set it on the coffee table in front of them.

"Oh, just talking about how you couldn't resist my British charm."

"Yeah, right. I just felt sorry for you as a recently arrived foreigner. It was just the hospitable thing to do." She smiled affectionately at him then turned to Donnie. "Don't believe everything he tells you. He's a great storyteller."

Donnie and his Uncle talked more about the Ranch and their horses. He hadn't ever been close to horses before. The last time he was at the ranch he was too afraid of them and his Uncle hadn't pushed it. He'd never even ridden one. There weren't that many on the Rez and only the Cops had them here in the city. He was jealous of the Cheyenne's; Uncle Frank said they had horses all over their Rez, as well as a herd of bison. Donnie had never seen a buffalo up close. He guessed there was a lot he hadn't seen in Indin Country.

The weekend flew by and soon it was growing close to the time when his Aunt and Uncle were going to back to the Ranch. Donnie had just come back from practicing at the gym to find his Mom and his Auntie in a serious discussion in the living room. His Uncle waved him into the kitchen.

"Better not get between those two!"

"Are they arguing about something?", Donnie asked.

"Just wait a few minutes. Want something to drink? I made a smoothy and its too much for me."

"What's in it?"

"Why not take a chance?" His Uncle gave him an evil grin.

Donnie gingerly lifted the cup his Uncle had filled from the blender and took a sip. It wasn't bad! He took a larger drink and heard his Mom call out from the front room.

"Donnie. Can you come in here, please."

Her voice sounded stressed and he got a little nervous as he approached them.

"Whassup?"

"How would you like to go with your Auntie and Uncle for the summer? It might be good for you to get out of the city for awhile and breathe some fresh air."

Donnie looked at his Aunt and Uncle. They were smiling and nodding.

"You'll be welcome and we'll keep you well fed and happy."

"I'll show you how to ride," his Uncle chimed in.

Donnie had mixed feelings. He was intrigued by the chance to learn new things but was fearful that he would miss riding his bike and he had to practice basketball all summer if he wanted to be ready for his senior year.

"I don't know...I want to, but...well I've got a place to ride dirt jumps with my bike..."

Uncle Frank interrupted.

"We could build you a track behind the barn. I've got a tractor with a blade and a roller."

"I really need to practice basketball every day," Donnie continued firmly. "I'd miss all the camps and the traveling team this summer."

"We've got a blacktop area that's flat and smooth. We could easily put up a backboard and net and I think there's a league going on at the Tribal Center."

Donnie was wavering. He looked at his Mom.

She looked away but said, "I think it would be good for you."

He wasn't sure she meant it.

"What about you, Mom? Think you can get along without me?"

He saw his mother's eyes fill with tears. They'd never been apart for more than a couple of weeks.

"I'll be alright. Maybe I'll take some time off and go see your father in Oklahoma."

That answer surprised Donnie. He hadn't been aware that his mother ever thought about going to see his Dad. He wanted to ask more, but before he could say anything she took his arm and said in his ear, "Better go gather up your stuff."

Donnie went into his bedroom confused and torn. He didn't know what he was feeling. He didn't know what his Mom was feeling. Did she really want him to go? Twenty minutes later he was packed and ready. His mother gave him a long, hard, serious hug at the door and, before he knew it, he was in the

back seat of the Silverado, headed for the Rez and the ranch.

They reached the ranch about ten-thirty in the evening. As they drove through the bricked pillars with a weathered wooden sign branded with a crooked B and advertised as "Bagpipe" Ranch. Donnie opened his window and smelled the air. It smelled heavy and sweet but fresher than the air in the city.

The Silverado drove down a long dirt road flanked on each side by bloody red, almost purple, fruitless cherry trees. Various other dirt roads connected to the one they were on but Donnie couldn't make out where they went in the darkness. At the end of the road they slowed and pulled into a circular driveway in front of a large two-story, cedar log Ranch-style house.

His Auntie hurried up the stairs to the broad porch running the length of the house and entered two heavy double-entry doors dressed with stained glass, and flicked on the outside light. Donnie followed her with his bags, expecting to follow her into the house when she turned and went back down the steps, striding briskly toward a group of buildings off to the right of the house. In the meantime he saw an older man approaching the truck where Uncle Frank stood waiting for him. He dropped his bag on the porch and walked back to the truck and around to the driver's side. The older man vigorously shook the hand of his Uncle and began talking rapidly in Spanish. He was surprised when he heard his Uncle reply, sounding as if Spanish was his Native language. They talked for a few minutes and shook hands again. His Uncle waved him over and introduced him.

"Theodore Martinez, this is my Nephew, Donnie Sands."

"Hola Donnie."

"Hi", said Danny shyly.

"Teddy's been holding down the fort while we were gone."

The older man nodded and with a short wave said "Via Con Dios" as he walked into the darkness.

A minute later Donnie heard a vehicle start and move off in the direction of the front entrance.

"Teddy's an ex-railroad man from Nebraska. He's retired now, with no family. He's got a little cabin not too far from here. We'd be lost without him. He knows how to work. Come on. I'm gonna show you the barn. I've got a couple of little chores to do."

Donnie followed his Uncle into the darkness wondering how he could see where he was going in the darkness. Overhead the sky was filled with stars. Donnie realized that he could never really see the night sky at home. The city lights washed everything out. Here there were so many stars it was amazing. It was like he'd never really seen the sky before. He hadn't even noticed the last time he'd been here. Donnie wondered how many other things he'd missed living in the city.

A large building loomed ahead. His Uncle opened a huge sliding wooden door, stepped inside, and switched on both an inside and outside floodlight. The whole area was suddenly awash with yellow light as Donnie followed his Uncle into the barn. It smelled of musty hay, horses, manure, and dust. His nose wrinkled at the combination of smells, it wasn't actually unpleasant, just unfamiliar.

His Uncle's "couple of little chores" lasted more than half an hour. Donnie spent the time exploring the barn. It was a fascinating place, especially the hay loft, but Donnie found himself drawn to the paddocks and stalls where some of the horses were. He hadn't realized what big animals they were. Up close, they were intimidating. As he stood next to an open stall with a divided door, bottom closed-top open, he rested is hand on the the top of the bottom door and checked out the smallest of the horses. It was white with brown and black patterns all over it. The horse in the stall next to him kicked hard at the side wall, startling him. Suddenly he felt a warm and slightly wet nose nuzzling his hand. The horse he had been looking at was right there! He jumped back in surprise. The horse seemed to have an identical reaction, stepping back quickly, flaring its nostrils and laying its ears back alongside it head. Donnie laughed out loud at himself and spoke to the animal nervously. "Great horse guy I'm gonna be, huh?"

A few minutes later his Uncle found him and they closed up the barn and went back to the house. They showed Donnie his room as he tossed his bags on the floor. He was amazed at the size of the house and fascinated by the way the interior logs gleamed a brown golden color in the soft light. His bed was large, a queen at least, and firm. He was glad it wasn't too soft. A skylight just above his head gave him a limited but beautiful view of the stars. He fell asleep stargazing.

The next morning came a lot earlier than he was used to. His Auntie woke him up out of a sound sleep by opening the door and cheerily saying,

"Time to get up sleepyhead. Days start early on the ranch."

Donnie looked at his watch. It was five-thirty! He wondered if he'd made a mistake coming here. Was he gonna be just an unpaid worker? How could he get up so early every morning? He forced himself out of bed, dressed slowly, splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth in his very own bathroom, and went downstairs. He found his Auntie in the kitchen, frying bacon and eggs in a huge frying pan. Another cast iron skillet filled with cooking potatoes steamed on the burner next to it. She gestured for him to sit down at the large heavy wooden table and set a pot of coffee and a huge ceramic mug in front of him, followed by a jug of milk and a pot of sugar.

Donnie didn't drink coffee back home unless he had money to go to Starbucks and even then he only went every now and then. But he thought if he was gonna get up every morning this early he'd better get used to it. Caffeine was definitely a necessity here, at least until his body clock got with the program. He poured the black liquid into the mug, spooned in four spoonfuls of sugar, and then started to pour in the milk. The white liquid had a strange smell and was much thicker than he was used to.

"I think this milk must be goin bad, Auntie."

"That's because it's not milk."

Donnie looked confused.

"We've got a couple of milk cows. That's pure cream we separated from the milk. If you don't like it I think I've got some powdered creamer in the cabinets..."

"No... I'll try it", Donnie said quickly. He was surprised how good the combination was. Maybe he'd become a dedicated coffee drinker after all.

"Wheres Uncle Frank?"

"Oh, he's been up since four. He had to milk the two cows and feed the rest of the stock before breakfast. He should be in any minute now."

As if on cue, the door opened and his Uncle stomped and dropped into his seat at the table.

"Maybe I'm getting too old for all this. I had trouble getting up this morning. Millie was upset at me and made it hard to milk her. She kept kicking and moving her butt around." He looked at Donnie and his eyes crinkled in the now familiar smile. "Finally woke up huh?" Donnie nodded. "You'll get used to it. I think." His smile broadened. "What's for breakfast, woman?"

Donnie thought it was incredibly funny the way his Uncle tried to talk like a southern cowboy with his thick London accent.

"This fryin pan's gonna be on your head, old man, if you disrespect me like that again. Quit showing off for your Nephew."

Frank sank down in his chair, faking fear.

"I hear ya, sweetie. No more references to your femaleness."

She gave him a severe look.

"You know that's not what I meant. Set an example. Think you can do that?"

"I'll try, Ma'm", Frank said in his best John Wayne imitation.

Donnie laughed out loud.

His Auntie placed a large platter of eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, biscuits and gravy before them.

"You both better start eating. The sooner I can get you out of here the better it'll be for my blood pressure."

His Uncle winked at him and jumped into breakfast. Donnie followed him. The eggs and bacon were fresh, the potatoes crispy, and the biscuits and gravy homemade. It was one of the best tasting meals Donnie had ever had. He reconsidered his previous assessment. If this was an example of what he had to look forward to every morning he didn't care when he got up!

Half an hour later, he and Uncle Frank stood in a garage-like building. Large tarps covered what appeared to be different size vehicles. First his Uncle threw off the smallest tarp. Underneath was a 125 Kawasaki motorcycle. A helmet and gloves hung on one handlebar.

"Ever ridden before?" his Uncle asked.

"A couple of times, but only on the street."

"Dirt riding's nothing like street bikes. You mentioned you were into BMX dirt freestyle...you should try it with an engine. We'll take some time to do it while you're here. I've actually got a small track out back. I used to race MX in England. Now these...", he whipped off another tarp. Under it was an almost new 420 Honda Fourtrax Rancher. Before Donnie could react Frank yanked another tarp off an identical machine.

"Which one you want?" Frank asked.

Donnie put his hands out palms up, indicating he didn't know.

"They're both about the same, but this one starts easier."

He pointed at the Honda nearest Donnie and showed him how to choke and start it. Then he briefed him on how to ride and what not to do. Donnie tried to get it all in one pass.

The next thing he knew they were directing the quads away from the outbuildings toward the pastures beyond. The ground was rolling away toward the far mountains and the sky never seemed to end.

The alfalfa fields were about half grown toward harvest and Donnie was riding out with his Uncle toward one of the field ponds. They were driving a two year old Appaloosa stud named Charlie out to be "gentled" in the water at the many ponds spread around the ranch. His Uncle didn't believe in breaking horses. He had his own way of doing it that took a lot of time, patience, and effort. Some of his absentee ranch neighbors tried to get him to train their two year old horses but Frank always declined. He wasn't impressed with those who didn't take the time to get to know their horses personally. From the first few days of a new born colt's life Frank made sure he was there close by. Most didn't realize that every horse, like every human, had its own mind and personality. Their natural tendency was not to be around people and especially not to have one perched on their back.

"The horse is basically a prey animal. It sees predators and dangers everywhere," his Uncle lectured as they drove. "They naturally move away from any kind of pressure; verbal, physical or emotional. Flight is their first response. The horse comes first. You've got to convince them everything is their idea. You can't ask them to think like you, everything needs to be in their terms for them to understand. Like children, they need consistency and respond when you are gentle but not yielding, firm but not hard. You have to learn what common sense means to them. Just like people, they respond to affection and respect. You can learn a lot from a horse", he gave Donnie a pointed look, "but the cardinal rule is, if you don't enjoy putting in the time and effort to build a relationship built on trust and affection, they can be a dangerous animalto be around!"

Donnie was much more comfortable around horses now. He'd learned how to safely approach a horse without scaring it. He always kept apple or carrot crunchers in his pockets as enticements and rewards and had learned to rub a horse's ears until, even without them, it relaxed enough for him to gently push down on its crown to get it to lower its head for a halter. Donnie had learned the hard way to make sure the halter fit well enough when a horse named 'Big Bob' tried to scratch his head and got his leg caught in the loose halter. Donnie freaked as Bob panicked trying to get his leg out but sighed in relief when he was able to free it quickly. Unfortunately Bob remembered and associated Donnie with that experience and was always skittish around him after that.

Donnie liked to groom the horses with a butterfly comb and bristle brush. He knew they enjoyed it and it was a calming and pleasant experience. As the summer flies multiplied and were everywhere, he learned to put on the mesh fly sheets, to wipe the horses down with repellent, and to feed them their "Wormer" paste. He had been horrified to hear his Uncle recite the list of parasites they were susceptible to: roundworms, bots, hair worms, thread worms, pin worms, stomach worms; the list went on and on.

His first chore on the ranch was to muck out the stalls and pitch hay or drive bales out to the horses twice a day. He didn't mind the feeding, but shoveling hard, dried manure off a wooden floor wasn't his idea of summer fun.

Though salt bags bags were hung in the stalls, one of Donnie's favorite chores was to take one of the four wheelers and carry salt blocks out to the pastures. He got to know the huge ranch well and enjoyed the time by himself out on the land. The prairie grasses had dried but the sky was always wide and clear and there was always the mystery of what he'd find over the next rise. Pronghorn antelope grazed all over the ranch in small bunches and Donnie often trotted Rosie toward them just to see the speedy 'lopes run.

There was a good-sized stream lined with large cottonwoods toward the north end of the farthest pasture where he'd slip off his clothes in the heat of the day and lie in the cool water looking up at the tipi-shaped leaves waving above him against the blue sky.

He enjoyed watching his Uncle working in the "round pen". Frank would start by walking slowly into the pen and asking the horse to move. If the horse just stood there he'd move forward until the animal started to move. Then Frank would stop step back and wait 'til the horse stopped. If the horse turned toward him he would stand still until it turned away again, then his Uncle would ask it to move again and repeat the whole process. When the horse would finally move when he asked it to, he would bring in the stick and string. He'd flick the string up so it landed on the horse's back. Often the horse, feeling something scary and unfamiliar, would begin to run around the pen. Frank would move to try and keep the string laying across its back. Eventually the horse would stop, Frank would flick off the string and then flick it right back on. This was a daily routine until the horse no longer felt threatened by the string and would stand still and relaxed as Frank flicked the familiar string on and off its back. Then Uncle Frank would easily move to its side and touch it with the hard part of the stick. When the horse would quietly stand and let him rub the stick all over its body it was time to move on to the next step; to physically touch the horse with his hand. If the horse flinched or moved, Frank would step back until he relaxed, then step forward and try again.

Eventually, just like with the stick, his Uncle would run his hand, then hands, all over the horse. When it stood for it without fear, his Uncle would touch it all around its face, head and neck, always ending by rubbing its ears. Horses that could learn to tolerate a lot of movement and touch around their faces were much calmer and less apt to shy from a halter or bridle, or any other unexpected event than those who couldn't. Frank always gave it some kind of reward every time the horse made even a half-hearted attempt at doing what was asked of it.

The final step to their Round Pen training was to take a twenty foot jumbo cotton lead-rope and, holding the ball clasp, go through exactly the same process of draping it over the horse's back until it was comfortable enough to allow petting at the same time the rope was in place. Then Frank would lead the horse around for a few days inside the Pen before he'd take them out, walking around the barn and outbuildings. Finally he'd get them to allow him to fasten a hack-a-moor or slip on a halter before saddling up his own roan gelding, Tinker, and leading the horse by the lead-rope out to the near pasture and back.

Donnie felt more and more comfortable around the big animals as time went by, but he was still wary around stallions and observed them closely to assess their feelings. They were always unpredictable. A fearful or uncomfortable horse was a dangerous horse. It was his Uncle that had gotten into the habit of carrying apple and carrots crunchies in his pocket. Donnie had been feeding Charlie everyday to get him used to his sight and smell. Lately he'd found the apple, peppermint and peanut butter muffin treats worked even better. Most of the horses would come to him anytime he approached them in the stalls or corrals. A few of them would even come toward him when they were loose into the near pasture.

"Every horse needs to recognize you as familiar; as someone that's not going to scare him. The treats will do that only up to a certain point, then you've got to begin asking something of him, usually combined with some sort of movement. They learn better that way. Also you need to project affection and strength. Don't be scared. You just watch his feet and his body language, his eyes and ears, and he'll tell you what he's thinking. Think of him as a six year old kid whom you've just met. He'll be shy with you until you gain his trust. Just giving him treats won't completely assure him, but its the start of the process."

Donnie had progressed with the stud to the point where Charlie would let him pick up his feet and examine his hooves. He also let Donnie pat him on the side of the neck and rub him between the ears without jerking his head to try and nip him with those big teeth. His ears only went back when Donnie did something unexpected or moved too fast around his head.

Uncle Frank had purposely kept Charlie away from his water tub since the morning before. The Appy smelled the pond long before they got there and skittishly danced around the trailer in back, bumping so loudly against the walls they could hear him in the truck.

"Almost there, kiddo", said his Uncle under his breath.

A couple of minutes later they came up over a little rise and the pond stretched out before them. The water was noticeably low with a large area of muddy ground surrounding it. His Uncle bounded out of the truck and had the double trailer doors open almost before Donnie reached the back. Uncle Frank went to the front tie bar and loosened the rope that kept Charlie tied tight and close within the trailer. As his Uncle rope loosened up the slack on the rope a little at a time, Charlie backed up out of the trailer.

"Make sure you don't get behind him!" his Uncle warned. "Stand off to the side and when he's all the way down off the ramp, take the rope and give him one of the snacks you brought."

Charlie had only ridden in the trailer a couple of times and it always took time to calm him down after the ride. When Donnie had the rope in hand he turned the horse around facing the water. Charlie jerked his head high and tried to pull away but Uncle Frank was there on the other side, singing to him softly and offering a peppermint snack. The young Appy calmed down and Frank slid a halter over his head and fastened it. Then he lifted a light fleece saddle blanket over Charlie's back. Charlie stood stock still for a moment, trembling, but Uncle Frank patted his neck and sang a soothing melody close to his ear.

The two-year-old's ears alternated moving forward and back for a few moments then remained set forward and Uncle Frank took the opportunity to untie the the big cotton lead rope from the young stud's halter ring. Then he picked up the leather bit-less bridle and reins he'd brought with him from the truck and slid off the halter, replacing it with the bridle. He turned to the side with his face toward the water and stood beside Charlie's head, holding the reins low at his side with no tension on them at all. He stepped forward slowly and Charlie followed him tentatively, his hind feet dancing from side to side. As they approach the edge of the dried area just before the mud started, Uncle Frank knelt down for a moment to study the pond. The stud nuzzled him apprehensively, eager to get to the water.

"You always need to be looking out for the horse's safety first. Take the bareback pad out of the tack box in the back of the truck and follow us, but not too close. The mud's gonna make him real nervous but I think he's thirsty enough to go on. Once we get in the water I'll tell you when to bring out the saddle."

Donnie did as he was told, the pleasant smell of the well-treated leather of the riding saddles filling his nose. The bareback pad was made of breathable synthetic swede and had a non-slip bottom and girth with foam padding in the withers.

When he approached the pond again he was surprised to see that Uncle Frank had led Charlie through the mud and both of them were standing ankle deep in the water. Frank had his elbow on Charlie's back and Donnie could tell that moment by moment he was increasing that pressure. Charlie raised his head from drinking and his muzzle whiskers sparkled in the sunlight. He turned his head toward Frank but didn't seem at all bothered by the new weight on his back.

Donnie slowly carried the bareback pad out toward them. The mud was deeper than he thought and by the time he reached the edge of the water his leg muscles burned. He saw his Uncle smile at him.

"That's quite a workout, huh? Sometimes, if they're really skittish and nervous I'll walk them around the pond a few times...takes it right outta them. Let me have the saddle."

Donnie stepped deeper into the water and handed it to his Uncle. His Uncle gently placed it on Charlie's back. Charlie stretched his neck down for another drink. Frank knelt down ton fasten the pad under Charlie's belly while the stud stood quietly.

"Looks like all that work in the Round Pen pays off ", Donnie said.

"Patience, patience and more patience does it. Chuck and I are buddies now. Not human buddies, horse buddies. Come on Chuck, lets go for a swim, eh?"

Uncle Frank led Charlie into deeper water. When the water was just touching the horse's belly, Frank cautiously jumped forward slightly on his belly onto Charlie's back putting weight on the saddle with his stomach. Charlie stood very still. Frank slowly turned his body and raised his torso up, sliding a leg over and finally straddling the horse, sitting tall in the saddle. Charlie looked confused. Frank gently put one rein against the side of his neck and asked Charlie to move. Charlie trembled once, then seemed to make up his mind and began to move forward. Frank's weight seemed to bother him and for a moment he moved his behind like he was getting excited.

Frank leaned down and began singing again in that low comforting tone he used with all the animals on the ranch. Donnie had never heard him raise his voice or get angry around any of them.

Charlie started a half-hearted buck but when his muzzle and nose dipped into the water he jerked his head back and snorted. He shook his head and whinneyed but stood still again. Uncle Frank was still singing.

He stopped singing and said softly, "Move."

Uncle Frank had impressed on Donnie the need to use one word commands whenever possible in training. Charlie began to slowly walk forward, obeying the slight pressure of the rein to turn him. Frank was careful not to lead him into deeper water and they went round and around for some time, changing directions now and then. Finally, back at the same place they started, Frank slid out of the saddle and led Charlie out of the water, through the mud, up the small incline to the road and onto the grassy plain on the other side. Once there he easily mounted Charlie again and rode him back and forth for another half an hour before riding back to the road. There he dismounted, carefully and deliberately removing the bareback saddle and pad, and then the bridle and reins. He gestured for Donnie to put the halter back on with the big cotton rope still attached and lead him again to the ramp of the trailer, while he put the tack away.

"Just stand with him. Maybe give him a treat."

Donnie pulled out one of the apple snacks in his pocket and Charlie gobbled it up. He nuzzled Donnie roughly for another but Donnie held his ground and rubbed him on the crown between the ears. Meanwhile Uncle Frank appeared on Charlie's opposite side with a bucket of soapy water and a bristle brush.

"I don't want to leave that mud on his hooves", he said in explanation. "Horses feet are their most important part besides their legs. People who care about their horses always treat them like family members. You wouldn't let one of your children get into something bad and not try to wash it off."

Donnie nodded in understanding. He was beginning to look at animals in a whole new way.

They loaded Charlie back into the horse trailer and returned to the ranch.

"Feel like going for a ride?"

"Sure", Donnie said, heading away from the truck toward the vehicle garage.

"No. I meant a horse ride."

Donnie felt his pulse quicken. Even with all the things he'd been doing and learning, he still hadn't ridden.

His Uncle quickly placed pads, bareback saddles, and bit-less bridles and reins on two horses in stalls in the barn.

"This is Josie", he said, handing both sets of reins to Donnie. Donnie led both horses from the barn. His Uncle took one set of reins from him and easily vaulted onto his horse. Donnie tried to jump up and failed, sliding down the horse's side.

Josie turned her head toward Donnie as if to ask, "You sure you can do this?"

Donnie bent his knees and leaped up forward onto his belly on the back of his horse and then clumsily slid a leg over and sat up in the saddle. At that point he realized he had forgotten to bring up the reins as well. They dangled on the ground on either side of Josie's head. Donnie leaned forward to try and reach them and Josie reacted by throwing her head back catching Donnie hard on his forehead. Stars floated in his eyes for a second as he tried not to fall off. He felt his forehead and found a large bump beginning to swell there. It hurt like hell!

"That's always something to look out for", his Uncle said unsympathetically.

Frank slid down off his horse and picked up the reins for Donnie.

"That's gonna be some bump", was all he said.

Donnie followed his Uncle out through the first pasture gate and they rode for about an hour, his Uncle instructing him in the basic essentials of safe riding. He taught him how to turn the horse, back him up, stop him and trot. The trotting just about shook the fillings out of Donnie's teeth but he managed to stay seated.

"Galloping and running are a lot easier but if you can trot, you can do anything."

They went back to the ranch just in time for the evening feeding. They put the horses up his Uncle strode off to milk the two cows, leaving Donnie to care for the horses. Donnie started breaking off flakes of alfalfa to put in the feeding slots of the stalls, then he went to the garage and hooked a small utility trailer to one of the quads and drove it back to the barn. There he loaded the trailer full of hay bales and drove out to the various separate pasture fences, breaking the bales up into flakes and tossing them over the fences. It took almost an hour for Donnie to get all the horses fed and watered. The yellow light of the kitchen beckoned and his mouth watered as he thought of the meal his Auntie would have ready for them.

Donnie woke up at four-thirty the next morning with his buttocks and legs on fire. The muscles were shouting out the fact that they hadn't ever been used that way before and they didn't like it. He waddled into the kitchen for coffee. Nobody mentioned his infirmity, but his Uncle made one comment before they went out to do the morning chores.

"You'll need to ride every other day to get used to it. A little longer each time. After a couple weeks you'll be fine."

Two weeks later Donnie was laying in the water of the stream by the cottonwoods again, but this time there wasn't a quad cooling off above the creek bank. Instead, Josie was tied up to a low hanging branch. He'd abandoned the vehicles to learn to ride better. His soreness was gone but everyday there seemed to be a new situation for he and Josie to face. He thought she probably trusted him about fifty percent. Today she'd stumbled in a prairie dog hole. He jumped off right away and walked her away from the site carefully watching her for signs that she might have injured her leg. After leading her for about fifty yards he determined she was okay and remounted.

When he told his Uncle what happened Frank said seriously, "You provided leadership and a new experience for her. You should be proud. You also learned one of the biggest dangers the next time you feel like romantically galloping across the plain! Tomorrow, go to her happy and look deep into her eyes when you saddle her up. If her eyes seem bright and shiny, you've built the bond you need to. And when you ride, think of yourself as a bump on her back, not as a human. You want to be a part of her when you ride."

That evening he rubbed some of his Auntie's special liniment on Josie's leg and gave her a number of snacks before he went to bed. Her eyes were bright and shiny.

One morning a few days later, at breakfast, his Auntie said, "You know the Fourth of July Parade and PowWow are comin' up. Your Uncle and I usually ride in it. We'd like you to go with us this year."

Donnie's pulse quickened. He'd lost track of the days on the ranch. He wasn't even sure what day of the week or month it was. His Auntie and Uncle didn't own a TV and they didn't get a newspaper. There was a radio but Donnie was always too busy or too tired to listen to it. He hadn't realized it was so near the Fourth. He'd be going home in a couple of weeks.

"Yeah, I'll ride with you."

He was relieved to see the happy look that came over her when he said yes, even though he himself was conflicted. He didn't want to go anywhere, but he knew this was part of their yearly routine.

"We have to build our camp at the powwow grounds before the parade, so take enough clothes for five or six days."

The Fourth arrived quickly. Donnie and Frank had gotten up at three AM to load Josie and their favorite horses into the big horse trailer. Teddy Martinez was coming over to do the morning chores and take care of the ranch while they were gone. His Auntie Lil had biscuits and gravy with sausage ready for them when they came in. After eating they loaded their bags into the truck and took off for the powwow grounds.

They drove in through the gate that announced they were entering the Willard EagleBeak Memorial PowWow Grounds and slowly made their way around the huge circular dirt road that surrounded the grounds. Donnie remembered it now. They turned onto one of the little intersecting roads that lead to camps and drove to where his Auntie's (and Mom's) relatives had their camp in the same place every year.

The morning was getting hot and Donnie was sweating by the time they'd set the six posts for their canvas arbor, raised the large canvas tent, cleaned the fire pit and unloaded the truck. His Auntie showed him where one of the water spigots were so he could run water over his head to cool off. A number of bright-eyed, giggling Native boys and girls with plastic jugs waited patiently as he stepped back and brushed his wet hair back from his eyes. The water felt good running down his neck under his shirt. The smell of the water accented the humid, dusty, cut-grass scent that permeated the grounds. Only a few days before the grass had been a foot high but the Tribal Maintenance Crew had mowed it down to about three inches and the smell still lingered.

He took his time walking back to the truck, stopping to watch an older man and his wife drawing tipi canvas around their lodge poles, then fastening it with the front pegs. He continued to their camp where his Auntie and Uncle were waiting to drive the horse trailer into town to unload the horses by the Fire Station. The parade was starting there in town and ending at the powwow grounds.

As they drove through the Rez to get into town, Donnie became more and more anxious. He'd never been in a parade before but he'd played basketball in front of big crowds of people so a bunch of on-lookers didn't bother him. What bothered him was how he felt about putting himself in the public eye to his own people. He was acutely aware of the fact that he didn't know any of his second cousins, Aunties, Uncles, or other relatives. Neither did he know much about Rez life, and the social and ceremonial culture. He'd always thought of himself as an Indian first, even while living in the city where most everyone thought he was white. But here, around his own people, he was having an identity crisis. He felt like he didn't belong here and that embarrassed him. What would his Mom and Dad think? He made a promise to himself to be more outgoing at the powwow and try to meet people and make friends.

A pretty girl decked out in a white buckskin dress, heavily beaded and fringed, with elk teeth, horse hair and jingle cones covering it rode by. She carried a beaded eagle feather fan and wore a beaded crown. The sorrel mare she rode was obviously high spirited, but the girl had complete control of her. She looked his direction and their eyes met. She smiled and then quickly turned her head and took her place between two other girls that flanked her in the street.

His Auntie nudged him and said, "Pretty, huh?"

Donnie nodded as if he didn't care.

"That's Haley Fox, she's the PowWow Princess this year. She's also a star player on the high school basketball team and plays on the Native traveling team."

The last part caught Donnie's attention.

"What kind of traveling team is it?"

"Oh, the Tribe's had its own boys and girls hoops teams for years. They travel all over to play in Native Tournaments." She looked at Frank. "Let's see, we've been to the Girl's Showcase at Window Rock and I know Haley's been to Phoenix for the Native Stars training program. I know that this last year they went to Salt River, Denver, Fort Hall, Nixon, Owyhee, Gallup...all over. Your Uncle and I've gone to plenty of the tournaments as drivers and chaperon's. Haley's ridden with us a few times. She's a very nice girl."

"How old is she", Donnie asked.

"I think she'll be a junior this year."

"Time to mount up," his Uncle said. "We're in the next group."

They swung up into their saddles. Donnie was used to riding with the bareback saddle or just a saddle blanket. The heavy leather work saddle wasn't as comfortable and he moved his butt trying to get comfortably seated. His Auntie led the way on her little Appaloosa, Tessa. Her Uncle followed on his favorite Pinto, Sachem, and Donnie followed on Josie. She seemed eager to be off and he had to tug on the reins firmly to restrain her and keep her in line with his Aunt and Uncle.

His Uncle had shod all three horses the last weekend in preparation for them being ridden on blacktop. Donnie had been impressed with his Uncle's ability to quickly drive in the nails, bend them over and clip them off, seemingly in one motion.

They rode abreast of each other, following other local ranchers and cowboys. The crowd standing alongside the street was thin but enthusiastic. As they rode out of town toward the powwow grounds the crowd disappeared all together and Donnie relaxed, enjoying the ride, trying to catch a glimpse of Haley's back up ahead. When they passed through the gate to the grounds the crowd instantly became much larger and kept increasing all the way around the long entrance road. They passed the tents and fire pits where the hand-game players spent most of their powwow nights and the high announcers booth appeared in the distance. He couldn't see the stands surrounding the dance grounds yet, but the crowd was getting more and more enthusiastic and the riders felt their emotion and quickened their pace.

Donnie felt great. The excitement was contagious and he was feeling more and more a part of the tradition. They made a full pass around the dance grounds and the parade broke up. Many of the Natives rode to their camps and tethered their horses while most of the non-Native riders made their way out onto the road and back into town to the Safeway parking lot filled with their horse trailers.

Donnie dismounted at their camp and immediately filled Josie's canvas water bucket. She drank more water than he'd seen her drink before, and he had to fill it twice. His Uncle had followed the other ranchers back into town to get the truck and trailer and drive it back to the grounds. Donnie watered his Auntie's horse while she made bologna and tomato sandwiches and brought out a pre-prepared tub of potato salad. Donnie put his on a paper plate and carefully made his way to the stands to sit and watch the preparations.

The maintenance crew had raked and rolled the ground the day before. Six Native men and two women were dragging the exterior carpeting rolls out onto the dance grounds. They spent half an hour figuring out how they fit together, then laid them down and tried to smooth out the wrinkles. The women were obviously in charge, though someone might not realize it if they weren't watching carefully, Donnie thought. They went over the entire carpet picking up beads, small feathers, and other parts of regalia that had remained on the rug from the year before. He ate the last of his potato salad slowly as he watched a squat Native man with very bowed legs strap on a power blower and systematically blow off the carpet. After they all had left, Donnie dumped his paper plate into one of the many trashcans spread across the grounds and took a leisurely walk around the grounds

Donnie walked by a trailer where a boy his age was sitting on the steps working on his dance outfit. It was obvious from the long fringe and designs that he was a grass dancer. The boy looked up and Donnie chin-nodded to him. The nod was returned and then he gestured for Donnie to come nearer. Donnie walked over to him.

"I'm Larry, but you can call me Jumps. I haven't seen you around before. You Native?"

Donnie nodded.

"Where you from?"

"Actually, I'm from here, but I've grown up in Midlands", Donnie said, feeling embarrassed."

"What family are you from?"

"My Mom and Auntie are Big-Horse's"

"Yeah, you're from here alright. How come I ain't seen you around before...ever?"

"Well, the one time I was here before I got the feeling I wasn't welcome--because of how I look."

Donnie rubbed the light skin on his arm and shifted feet nervously.

Jumps put his dance riggins down beside him on the steps, stood up and put out his hand.

"If you're a Big-Horse, you belong here as much as any of us, no matter how you look. I'm from a traditional family. We welcome all our people. Here, I want you to come in and meet my Grandpa."

Donnie reached out to shake hands and was confused when the other boy didn't actually grab his hand but slid his hand part-way up his arm and grasped it just below the elbow. Instinctively Donnie clamped his hand around the Jump's arm.

"That's how we shake hands with our own people. You can recognize a Native by how he shakes. If he takes your hand he probably thinks you're white. The exception to that is if you are meeting someone that's from before the seventies. Most of them will shake normally. We don't shake with women like that either. And if you're at ceremony or in public most of us shake normally." He saw Danny's look of confusion and laughed. "Don't worry, no one'll hold any kind of shake against you."

Jumps turned and opened the door and gestured for Donnie to follow him.

Inside the trailer, an older man and woman sat at the small trailer table drinking coffee and eating tortillas, beans and eggs.

"Grandpa, this is Donnie Sands. His Mom and Auntie are Big-Horses. He hasn't been here on the Rez much and needs a welcoming."

Donnie stretched out his hand and the older man took it firmly to return the greeting.

"So, Margie's kid is finally coming home to his people. It's about time."

Donnie flushed crimson and shifted back and forth from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"Will your Mom be here?"

Donnie shook his head negatively.

"Are you staying with Lillie and Frank?"

Donnie nodded silently.

"Well, you're welcome here. Actually, we're related. My father was your Mom's father's brother."

Donnie's eyes wandered around the trailer interior. One wall was covered with photos of Jumps playing basketball. He was wearing a number of different uniforms."

Jump's Grandpa noticed his gaze.

"Our Jumps is quite a hoops star. He'll get a scholarship for sure," he looked at Jumps pointedly, "if he doesn't screw it up!"

"Don't worry, Pops. I'm on it."

"Maybe while I'm here we can shoot some. My Uncle put up a backboard and net for me out at the ranch."

"Better yet, why don't you play in the powwow tournament tomorrow afternoon. I can introduce you around to everybody and we can see what skills you got."

Donnie hesitated, "Well..."

Jumps interrupted him to say, "Don't even think about it, you're comin' with me. Now lets go check out who's here and who's not. The Color Guard, Introductions, and Grand Entry is tonight. Most of the dancers should be here within the next hour or so."

After shaking hands again with Jumps' Grandpa, and nodding respectfully to his grandmother, Donnie followed him back out onto the grounds. They walked around slowly with Jumps filling him in on everybody's story, flooding him with names and relationships. They walked by a large RV with three tipis and a number of tents set up behind it. Four horses stood munching on a couple bales of alfalfa. Donnie recognized one of the horses as belonging to Natalie Fox. No one was in sight.

"Is this Haley's camp?

Jumps snorted. "Yeah. That's the Fox's trailer. Her Dad is Vice-Chairman. He's got a good sized ranch out west of the Rez."

"She lives off-Rez?"

"A lot of the wealthier tribal members have property off-Rez. In fact, almost anyone that can afford it try to get away without actually leaving."

"What's she like?"

"Who, Haley?"

Donnie nodded.

"She's pretty, she's smart, she can play with us guys in hoops and she's

never had a boyfriend that I know of."

Donnie didn't say anything.

"Ahhh, so my boy's got the hots for a Fox!"

"Can you introduce me?"

"Not now. I'm sure she's getting her outfit together for tonight."

"What type of dance?"

"She does Fancy Shawl."

"When's everything start?"

"About 5:30."

Jumps and Donnie continued their walk around the grounds. A number of times they stopped for Jumps to introduce him to Elders. They were all friendly and interested in who he was related to. He was feeling more and more comfortable all the time. They stopped for a homemade burrito and lemonade at one of the first midway food stand to open up. It was delicious but his mouth burned from the hot peppers. even after he'd finished his drink.

After that Jumps said he had to go back to his grandparent's trailer to see if they needed anything. Donnie took a different direction to pass the water spigot for a drink. His heart beat increased when he saw that the girl bending over to wash her hair under the water in the short jean shorts and sports bra was Haley Fox! He noticed that she was having to stop every few seconds and crank the pump handle to get more water. Her head was down and her dark brown, almost black hair was full of soap as he reached the spigot. Before she had to stop and pump the handle again he started pumping it up and down furiously. The water began to increase in volume and strength. She didn't raise her head but said thank you without looking up. Her voice was musical but lower than expected.

She rinsed her hair thoroughly then straighted, shook her head back and then threw her head forward and back with water spraying everywhere. When she stopped she smiled at him and he felt butterflies in his stomach.

She reached out her hand, "I'm Haley."

"I'm Donnie", he said simply.

"Where are you from Donnie?"

"Actually, I'm from here", he said. When he saw her look of surprise, he added, "I've been living with my Mom in Midlands."

"Who's your Mom?"

"Margie Big Horse."

She pursed her lips in surprise. She began to brush her long hair, starting at the ends.

"Is this your first time on the Rez?"

"No, I've been to the powwow before."

"I've never seen you before."

"Well actually, that's the only time I been here," Donnie said, feeling embarrassed again."

"We're just like any Rez, there's good and bad. Depends on who you hang with. Are you into sports?"

"I ride BMX dirt track and I play basketball."

"At the word "basketball" Donnie could see he had her interest.

"Are you any good?"

Donnie shrugged. "All-League last year."

Haley smiled again. Donnie thought it was even more open and warm than before.

"What position do you play?"

"Guard, forward--whatever they ask me to do, I do."

She looked off toward her camp.

"I've got to get ready for Grand Entry, maybe I'll see you later?"

Donnie realized it was a question and replied quickly.

"I'll be here."

She waved, grabbed up her towel and walked off toward her camp.

Donnie found a seat at the bottom of the grandstands to watch the final preparations. Gradually a crowd began to gather, and some of the Elders brought their folding chairs to set up in front of the bleachers to watch their relatives dance.

The PA system crackled and hissed as a man's voice said, "Testing...testing...", over and over again. Finally the sound was clear and he said, " Hi everybody. My name is Walter Bad Water and I'm the Arena Director for this shindig. You'll see me runnin' 'round like a headless chicken for the next four days. Right now I'd like to introduce our MC, up from Indian Territory, Mike Small. So take it away, Mike."

"Howdy all. Like Walt said, my name is Mike Small, although some of the ladies might disagree with that." There was some groaning and a smatter of laughter from those already gathered around the arena. "We'll get back to that later. Right now I want to invite the Host Drum and as many drum groups as are ready to come on over and set up so we can get this going. Your Host Drum is from right here and they call themselves the Bad Rez Singers. So ya'll come on over."

Donnie got up and walked to the other side of the the announcer's platform to where he knew the Grand Entry would start. He was eager to get a glimpse of Jumps in his Grass Dance riggins but even more than that he wanted to get another eye-full of Natalie, this time in her Fancy Shawl outfit.

A small, thin man with an elaborately decorated Eagle Staff pushed past him in a Navy Uniform followed by three other men, also in Service Uniforms. One carried both the Tribal Flag and the American Flag, while the other two carried carbines. One of the men holding a carbine checked the weapon's chamber, then reached into his pocket and took out a number of rounds. He leaned the weapon against the storage shed wall underneath the MC's booth and fed the rounds into a clip. His Marine uniform hung on him like suit that was three sizes too large. He slapped the clip back into the rifle just as the first tentative drum beats sounded from across the arena.

Without even noticing it Donnie found himself surrounded by dancers, adjusting their outfits and making last touches to hair and paint. The Men's Traditional Head Dancer, a middle-aged man with full face paint, stood by talking with the Marine. Donnie knew he would lead the procession out after the Color Guard. The sound of other drums getting ready signaled that the Grand Entry would start soon. The flood of dancers pressing in on him was too much and Donnie decided he would go back over to the spot where his Auntie and Uncle would be sitting to watch. A camera flash went off in his face as he tried to make his way through the crowd. Suddenly he was surrounded by a group of angry young men shouting that no pictures were allowed. At first Donnie thought they had mistaken him for the photographer because a number of them were looking right at him. Then he realized he was standing next to an overweight man in Bermuda shorts with a Nikon pressed tightly to his stomach.

Donnie pushed his way through the group of young men saying, as loud as he could, "I'm not with him."

They stepped aside at that point and he hurriedly stepped out into the midway that went around the wood framed arbor covering the bleachers to where his Auntie was sitting in a folding chair talking to an Elderly woman sitting at her side. Another folding chair, his Uncle's, sat empty beside her.

Donnie slipped into it just as the MC called into the microphone. "We've got all the drum groups ready. Let's hear from you, starting from the Bad Rez drum." Each of the drums took their turn clockwise around the circle to indicate their presence. "I'll get around to introducing ya'll during the night, but right now I'd like to step aside and let my Elder, Richard Johnny, say the opening prayer.

Everybody stood up, with the men removing their hats, standing silently while the prayer was said giving thanks for the safety of everyone that was traveling, everyone that was at home sick, all those in prison, and finally for the Color Guard, Head Dancers, the MC, the Arena Director, the Dancers, anyone preparing food or Give-Aways, and the crowd, especially those who had come great distances. He then repeated the prayer in his own language and ended it with, "in Jesus name, Amen." A loud chorus of Ho's, and Aho's accompanied the Amen's from the crowd.

"When's Uncle coming", Donnie asked his Auntie, who was no longer speaking to the Elder beside her.

He was getting comfortable in the chair and could see better from here than he could from where he'd been in the stands.

"He usually doesn't come, unless its for the Fancy Dancing. He'd rather stay back at camp listening to the ball game. He's a Giant fan. Go figure, as far as we are from there!"

Donnie squirmed in the chair to find the most comfortable spot, then sat back to enjoy the color and sounds of the dancers in front of him, and the drums behind.

"Folks, this is it. All the Drums are ready and the Color Guard is standing on their tiptoes. So here they come. Wallace Fields is the Staff Bearer, Joseph Branch is the Flag Bearer, and Fred Washington and Billie Joseph will give us the Flag Salute. Next, Calder Knight is the Head Traditional Dancer. Mona Charles is Head Women's Dancer, and our Powwow Princess, Natalie Fox is our Teen Head Dancer. So here we go Bad Rez boys, the Flag Song is up."

The Eagle Staff Bearer was a tall muscular man with short gray hair tied up in a bundle like Dene' and Hopi men Donnie had seen at the Gathering of Nations Powwow in Albuquerque. For his sixteenth birthday his Mom had taken him because he saw it advertised on the computer when he was hunting for other drums groups' music besides Black Lodge. The Staff Bearer was dressed in an Air Force uniform that looked as good on him now as it probably had when he'd first worn it. The chest of his shirt was covered with medals and ribbons and he carried himself straight and tall as he led the procession in the Grand Entry. When all the dancers were inside the packed dance arena, the Flags were fastened to the center pole and raised as the two men with carbines fired four rounds into the air. Donnie had looked for Jumps and Haley but his attention was everywhere trying to see everything and he never succeeded.

Forty minutes later, the Grass Dancers were flattening the grass with their movements. Jumps was definitely athletic and one of the best. He was always with the beat and when the drum stopped he was right on it. Thirty minutes after that, Haley, with her colorful skirt, blouse, and shawl was giving the other girls a clinic in Fancy Shawl style with her rapid spins and elaborate steps. Donnie couldn't take his eyes off her. He slid out of his chair and squeezed his way through the crowd behind him to make his way around to the arena exit hoping to catch her when she was finished. He was almost there when he saw her do her final spin as the drum stopped abruptly. She left the grounds, only to be surrounded immediately by three or four other girls. As he got close he could hear them giggling with everyone talking at once. Donnie could see that Haley wasn't paying much attention to them. Her eyes wandered over the crowd in his direction and, to his surprise, settled on him. She gave him a nod in recognition as she and her entourage headed off toward her camp. Donnie followed at a discreet distance.

He waited for almost an hour but she never came out of the RV. He realized that he was probably making more of her nod than he should. Sighing with disappointment he slowly walked toward the distant tents and arbors of the hand game devotees. He stood and watched the teams across from each other in a line, rows of hand drums behind them, swaying with their singing. He was fascinated by the group of painted sticks lying on the ground between the teams along with the ritual of hiding and gesturing with the bones. He knew some people lost their shirts and everything else in hand game, but that didn't make it any less interesting. Gambling was about as Native as hunting.

He lost interest after a few passes back and forth and drifted again toward the dance grounds. Suddenly he felt exhausted and walked through the darkness to his tent. There he lay on top of his sleeping bag in the warm night air, breathed the comforting smells of cooking, of horses, and of the earth. It was like being in one big family, he thought, as the drums lullabied him to sleep.

He woke up the next morning acutely conscious that today he would be going to the Tribal Community Center to play basketball in front of his people. His people. It was the first time in his life that he identified with his Tribe. He was surprised how little it had taken to pull him from his individual life into a community's life. He wondered what his Mom would think. He'd only called her a couple of times since he'd been here. Feeling guilty that he hadn't called more only made him feel more like not calling!

The morning passed quickly. He'd slept past nine! That was a record for him since he'd been on the Rez, especially since living on the ranch where the day started long before the sun popped its head up. His Auntie made oatmeal with raisins, brown sugar, and cinnamon on a propane camp stove along with biscuits she'd cooked on a flat cast iron skillet over the remaining coals of the night fire. After finishing breakfast he took a towel and toothbrush with him to the "waterhole"-- the pump handle spigot. This time he was the one that had to wait as a group of kids finished filling their empty milk jugs to carry back to their camps. Then he took off his shirt, brushed his teeth, washed his face, neck, and arms, and drenched his hair in the cool water. He stood up to shake the water from his eyes only to find Haley standing a short distance away watching him intently.

Donnie stood for a moment with his mouth open, then said lamely, "Oh. Hi".

"Hi yourself. We've got to stop meeting like this." Her face flushed as she quickly said, "That was a pretty lame cliche, huh?"

Donnie didn't respond as she pumped the handle and stepped in to wash her face. As she started brushing her teeth, she mumbled something Danny couldn't make out.

"Sorry, I didn't get that."

"Guess I shouldn't talk with my toothbrush in my mouth. I asked if you're still going to the gym this afternoon? If you go early enough before the tournament they'll be some pickup games. That way the team captains 'll get to see what you can do and ask you to be on their roster in the tournament. That is, if you've got anything they want."

She smiled mischievously revealing her perfect teeth. Donnie felt like he was melting. The tremors in his stomach were back and sweat broke out on his upper lip.

He did his best to seem nonchalant when he said, "Yeah. I'm going over there with Jumps. He said he'd get me on a team."

"Then I'll see you there. What was your name again?"

"Donnie, Donnie Sands. Sands is my Dad's name. He's what you'd call a

Creek. Mvskoke. The Creek Nation."

"Okay, Donnie". She drew his name out as she said it, "I'll see you there."

As Donnie walked away he wondered at the way she'd said his name but had no idea what it meant. He was just happy to hear her say it out loud.

Jumps and Donnie arrived at the gym about half an hour before the tournament was to begin.

"Don't worry Bro, we're always late getting started. Most people won't get here until after the games have already started."

They walked through what appeared to be a relatively new, modern Community Center with a full kitchen, classrooms, a circular meeting room, administrative offices, and a child care center.

"We just got this built last year with Indian Community Development Block Grant funds from HUD. The gym's through here."

They walked down a long corridor and passed through a large set of double doors into the gymnasium. Donnie was immediately impressed. The bleachers were set back from the floor by at least eight feet. The floor was made of wood, probably hard maple.

"Is this maple?"

"Yep. Basketball's kind of a way of life here. We wanted the best. It's expensive though and it has to be screened and re-coated every year. Usually that's done during football season so it'll be new and ready for playing on." Jumps walked out onto the court where a number of teenagers and a couple of young men were shooting threes. "The backboards are half inch tempered glass. Just like the NBA", he said proudly. "Let's get a ball."

Donnie followed Jumps to the opposite side of the gym where a snack bar/storage room was located. The short, chubby woman behind the bar was in the process of making a hot dog for a chubby little boy.

She took one look at Jumps and said, "I know what you're here for," as she stepped into an alcove and produced a basketball.

She flipped it to Jumps and he immediately passed it to Donnie. Donnie took a few slow dribbles out onto the court, pounding the ball against the floor. When he reached the top of the key, he spun the ball outward onto the floor. As it bounced right back into his hands he took a quick sidestep to the left and pivoted toward the basket as he let the ball go in what was known to the people of Midlands as the "Sand's Jumper". His hand stayed high, with his fingers pointing downward until after the arc of the ball began to drop toward the basket. The ball cut the net cleanly as Jumps whistled.

"We might have a playa here folks", he said in his idea of what a play-by- play announcers voice would sound like."

Jumps rebounded the ball and burned a two hand chest pass to Donnie. Despite being surprised by the velocity of the pass, Donnie cleanly caught it, faked right, and drove the lane finishing with a perfect layback layup. From then on they rebounded for each other and alternated shots. Jumps matched Donnie goal for goal until they stopped to shoot free-throws. Jumps only made six out of his first ten. Donnie made nine. On his second ten, Jumps made only six again. Donnie hit all ten.

"Just keep shooting, hotshot", Jumps said, passing the rebound back to Donnie so he didn't have to re-adjust his stance. "Lessee how many of these bad boys you can put away."

Donnie hit thirteen more shots before he missed. Suddenly he realized that the gym was virtually quiet compared to how it had been when they had started. No one was dribbling or shooting. All eyes were upon him. He walked away from the free throw line and instantly everything was normal again.

"Twenty-three in a row. Man, that's some shooting. I don't know if anyone's ever made that many free-throws in a row and we have three-point and free-throw contests every tournament. You're on my team. I can't wait to play with you in a game. Now I've gotta go sign us up. Don't get lost."

Donnie returned Jumps high-five and went to sit down on the bottom row of the bleachers. A number of people that he had walked by before without acknowledgment now nodded their heads at him in greeting. He had broken the ice. He looked toward the direction that Jumps had gone trying to see him when a presence slid onto the bench beside him.

"That was pretty impressive, Dead-Eye." Haley was smiling and her eyes were shining. "I love basketball", she said simply, looking out on the court.

Donnie took a moment to examine all of her. She was wearing a Laker's jersey and shorts that hung down way below her knees. Her shoes were high-tops, laced tight. She was wearing a right knee brace and chewing on a rubber mouthpiece.

She noticed him looking at it and said, "Rez ball is always rough. A Princess has to protect her teeth, ennit?"

Donnie hadn't heard anyone use that expression except his parents and his Auntie. It was, in fact, an expression from the 70's.

Haley squinted hard at him.

"Should I have said, "and whatnot"?

Donnie jerked back in surprise.

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Oh, I have my ways", she said mysteriously.

Before she could say anything, she jumped up, pulled her shorts down a little and said, "Showtime."

Just as she said that, the loudspeakers placed around the gym squealed with feedback, causing everyone to put their hands over their ears. Just as quickly it went away and a woman's voice came over the PA.

"We're gonna start with Mixed Womens. We've got a lot of games this afternoon so we're gonna hold them all to seven minute quarters and no half-time."

Some of the older players groaned and cheered simultaneously, causing the crowd to break out into laughter.

"Team One and Team Six. You're up!"

Jumps returned to sit beside him.

"Nat's team is up. You're in for a treat."

Donnie was mesmerized by Haley's play. She seemed to be everywhere on the court, directing her teammates, diving for loose balls and tying up rebounds under the opponents basket. She was unselfish with her passing and a dead shot when she took them. Her only foul was when she took an obvious charge and was called for blocking.

The gym erupted in a series of jeers and catcalls directed at the referee that made the call. By the end of the second period her team was up by eighteen.

Donnie didn't want to miss any of the third period but he had to go to the bathroom. Jumps was off again somewhere and he asked the person next to him where they were and was directed out of the gym and into the Community Center proper.

He got lost almost as soon as he got into the Center. He wandered around for what seemed like an eternity before he found them. A couple of young teenage girls were standing outside the door of the women's restroom, sharing a cigarette. They gave him a stare that he thought the english word "haughty" described perfectly. He didn't know what haughty meant exactly, but he was sure it was an accurate description.

He pushed through the door to the men's restroom and seeing a bunch of four or five older teens standing in front of the urinals, went into a stall to relieve himself. He heard the talking lower to a whisper but didn't think anything of it. As he came out of the stall he was confronted with the five boys standing in a line in between him and door. The smallest spoke first.

"So, white boy, watcha doin' all alone here on the Rez?"

"This is my Rez", Donnie said in his toughest sounding voice. "And I'm not a white boy. You didn't get your nappy hair from any Indian around here", he shot back.

The teen's eyes filled with rage. Obviously Donnie had hit on one of his sore spots.

"You talk big for one guy."

"Can't help that. I belong here as much as any of you."

"That's BS. We ain't never seen you 'round here before."

"Just cause I don't live on the Rez doesn't mean I'm not from here."

"I'm afraid it does, Latte Boy. Ever since we got our Casino all the Indians are coming out of the bushes back home to share in the wealth. All these years we put up with being dirt poor and looked down on, now that we got somethin' all of you that never had to put up with that kinda crap are coming home to control everything and cash in on bein' Native. It just ain't right."

Donnie didn't know what to say. His new found feeling of belonging evaporated and he felt like a bear in the desert.

"So, what do you want from me?" he said.

The small boy looked around at his friends.

"Just a little payback maybe...", he hesitated a moment for effect, "in blood."

They rushed him simultaneously. Donnie caught the first in the mid-section with a perfectly-timed front kick, but was swept off his feet before he knew it. He threw a number of elbows that connected, and even a few kicks that landed, but eventually they held him down on the floor on his back, pinning his arms behind him.

The small boy stepped over him and sat down on his chest.

"You okay, Bone?"

"Yeah, I think so. He caught me real good with that kick."

"You want first whack at the pinata?

"Nah, I'm good. Just hurry it up. My game's coming up soon."

The boy on top of him leaned over close to his face. A heavy beer smell was on his breath.

"This is for thinking you'll ever be one of us."

Five minutes later, Donnie was trying to stand before the restroom mirror to assess the damage. His nose was bent to the side, obviously broken. His jaw was beginning to swell on one side. It might be fractured too, he thought. His lips were split and one of his front teeth was loose. He figured both of his eyes would be black by tomorrow and the ribs on his left side hurt fiercely. He could only take in about half a breath without really feeling the pain. Forcing himself to move he struggled to push the door open, marveling at how much the beating had sapped his strength. No one was around. He made his way back to the gym and stood for a moment listening to the crowd before he went in. It was a familiar sound. Comforting.

He stood for a moment more gathering himself and then pushed through the door. He was walking hunched to the left and a number of people in the bottom rows asked him if he was alright. He nodded and surveyed the crowd, carefully looking at each group of kids to see if theboys were there. He saw the girls that had been smoking but nobody else he recognized. Donnie slowly walked to where he and Jumps had been sitting. With an extreme effort he sat down, lowering his head and breathing through his mouth.

"Dude, where have you been? I've been looking all over..." Jumps stopped abruptly. "What happened", he said in a cold voice.

Donnie tried to talk.

"Got jumpthed in da batroom."

"By who?"

"Dunno. 'Bout five."

"We've gotta get you to Tribal Health, your jaw's out to here."

Jumps pointed to a location away from his own face where a jaw shouldn't be.

"How'd I do?", a girl's voice Donnie recognized as Haley's asked.

He looked up at her and her expression changed to concern. Even in the midst of his pain, her reddened flushed face and sweaty forehead was tremendously appealing to him.

"What happened to him", Haley demanded, looking at Jumps.

"He got worked over in the bathroom by five Skins...don't know who they were yet. I need to get him to Tribal Health but I don't have wheels."

She turned and spoke to a couple of her teammates that had since joined her. Before they knew it, Donnie and Jumps were being led outside by Haley and one of her friends to a Jeep Cherokee. A middle-aged woman sat in the driver's seat.

"This is Ticia. She'll take you to Indian Health. I'll get in touch with your Aunt and Uncle." She looked at him sympathetically and put her hand on his. "Hang in there."

On the ride Donnie thought more about her hand on his than about the pain. He wasn't sure how to take it, was she interested in him or just being friendly? He was from off the Rez, his family wasnn't well off, he knew virtually nothing about his people, yet he desperately wanted her to like him. It's probably just wishful thinking, he decided. As soon as he made that determination, the pain pounced.

Donnie's Auntie and Uncle got to Tribal Health just after the doctor had reset his jaw and wired it closed. His ribs were bound. Two of his short-ribs were broken. His nose had been straightened as much as possible and he had ice-packs covering every damaged area.

His Auntie shook her head and put his head against her breast as if he were a little child. His Uncle stood by uncomfortably.

When she finally let him surface for air, his Uncle cleared his throat and said, "Not a very good end to your vacation. You know how it is on the ranch, the work and all. We won't have much time to spend with you as you heal. I guess it's time we take you back home and suffer the wrath of your Mama. She'll probably never trust us to have you come visit with us again."

Donnie didn't know what to say and with his jaw wired shut he couldn't say much anyway. He knew he'd be only an extra burden for them at the Ranch. What bothered him most though was that he wouldn't get to say goodbye to Natalie.

"Frank", his Auntie said, "I think you need to take the car and drive him home tonight. His Mom's gonna want him there to look after. I'll stay at the powwow grounds 'til you get back. Then we'll pack up and go back to the Ranch. I've had just about enough of this."

The doctor gave Donnie some strong painkillers and he slept all the way to Midlands. When they pulled up in front of the house he was confused for a moment, not realizing how he got there. Then, through the painkiller haze, he remembered. His Auntie had called his Mom after they were on their way and his Mom had come home from work early. When she saw him her eyes clouded with tears as she helped up to his room and into bed.

"I'm sorry that happened Donnie. I shoulda known something like that...", she trailed off without finishing. "Sometimes our people can be so angry and so mean! I guess that's part of why I married your father, and later why I decided to move here. Growing up there is so hard. I didn't want that for you." She paused. "Now you rest, I'm taking part of my vacation so I'll be home with you all the time. Go to sleep."

She turned off the light and Donnie didn't wake up again until the pain returned and his Mom came in to give him more medication.

Six weeks. That's how long I've been cooped up here, thought Donnie. He was getting his jaw unwired today. He craved solid food so bad! Drinking through a straw for six weeks had been torture but he had healed. The black and blue circling his eyes disappeared first, then the soreness was gone from his side and his jaw. His tooth got tight again and only his nose showed any vestige of his ordeal, leaning slightly to the left of center on his face. It made him look different somehow. Older, maybe.

He'd been twirling a basketball and doing ball-handling drills from the moment he could first stand well enough to grip the ball. Today was the first day he could go down to the gym and shoot some. School started in a week. He didn't have much summer left.

The doorbell rang and he answered it. There was a FedEx package sitting on the doorstep. He looked at it closely. It was addressed to him but he was unable to determine who it was from. As he began to open the package a faint odor wafted up from it. The smell was familiar but he couldn't place it. When he finally got it open he couldn't believe his eyes. Inside was a perfect little dream- catcher, with beautiful, tiny, multi-colored bird feathers worked into it. He lifted it out of the package carefully. There was a note underneath.

"Here's hoping you get well quick and come back to us so I can stomp you on the court. Haley."

There was a smiley face after that on the card. He hadn't had any minutes for his cell phone in a long time so she couldn't have called him anyway. She'd probably got his address from his Aunt. But just the fact that she had taken the time to make this for him, an almost complete stranger, had to mean something. For the first time in weeks he walked out his front door. He was humming a powwow song.

Before Donnie knew it, school had started, football season had come and gone, and basketball practice had started. The first local two-day tournament was scheduled for the day after Thanksgiving.

The JV team had gotten two sophomore transfers that had potential for the varsity team. One was Olowi Nakai and the other Chad Burles. Olowi was six feet three and Chad six-two. They were rough and young but added power and height inside. The Coach yanked them up immediately to the Varsity and began developing an alternative to the fast-paced, high-pressure Man defense that was the current team's bread and butter. Offense was affected to. Before, the team had relied primarily on swinging the ball around the perimeter with the occasional feed and kickback to get zones out of position for clearly open shots. Now they were developing another offense that emphasized getting the ball into the post, emphasizing post play, rebounding and assists.

Donnie was comfortable with both styles of offense and defense but there was some grumbling among the other players as to how this would change their game minutes and roles on the court. No one denied the two big boys had talent, but whether they could compete in the hard and fast Varsity ball at the level Madison's opponents played was yet to be seen.

The first tournament revealed that, despite the fact they needed a lot more practice time, both offenses and defenses were effective. Madison easily won the local tournament outscoring their opponents by an average of fifteen per game. The ability of the Vikings to go from speed and pressure to a slow and deliberate style of play was immensely confusing to teams incapable of preparing and playing for only one style of play.

The pre-Holiday tournaments went by quickly with Madison establishing dominance in their league right off the bat. Donnie walked through his front door after a particularly satisfying win over a team they had struggled against the year before, the Harrison Wolverines. Donnie had fifteen points and six assists to lead the team in both categories but both of the tall boys each had ten and it seemed like all the team was contributing.

As he walked by the coffee table to go to the kitchen to see if his Mom had left him dinner, he noticed a large manila envelope addressed to him lying on top of it. He grabbed it up and continued into the kitchen. He put in on the counter to look in the microwave. Sure enough, his Mom had a plate of fried seasoned potatoes, beef stroganoff, and corn-on-the-cob just waiting to be re-heated. He pressed the key for a dinner plate and picked up the envelope.

Donnie wasn't expecting what was inside. There were two DVD's in paper envelopes, one titled--Natalie, and the other titled--Jumps. There was also two envelopes addressed to him as well. He opened the first. It was from Jumps.

"Hey, Cousin. Hope you healed good and your team is winning. Ours is!

Anyway, we all want to see you back here soon. Here's some DVD's of us to check out. Jumps."

The second letter smelled like perfume. Donnie sniffed it appreciatively. It was the wonderful smell that he now remembered well. Haley had sent a short note too.

"I hate to say it but I miss you. I know we don't know each other very well but I think about you all the time. Here is my phone number. I don't have many minutes but we have unlimited texting so we can wear out our thumbs. Please text me how you're doing. My point total is a little down from last year at this time but my assists are up. I hope I can see you again soon. Haley."

Donnie put the letter to his nose again and inhaled deeply. He sighed with pleasure and re-read her note for the tenth time. Then he entered her number into his phone as the microwave beeped. He gingerly removed the hot plate, took a folded dish towel and carried it into his bedroom with the manila envelope. He popped Jumps DVD in first, saving Haley's for last and began eating as it started. The DVD was about ten minutes long and was a compilation of Jump's doing everything right on the court. Donnie thought it was like a highlight reel. Donnie quickly lost interest and ejected Jumps DVD to replace it with Haley's.

He continued munching on his food while it loaded, but within a few seconds of it starting to play he had set down his fork and was watching in amazement. Haley was awesome! She played guard, brought the ball down and set up the plays. The first two times down against a two-one-two zone she showed her ability to drive between the top defenders, pulling up and hitting a short jumper the first time, then driving hard and dishing off to a post in the short corner.

As the game went on she displayed behind-the-back passes, every kind of driving lay-up there was, and a dead-eye shot she seemed to be able to hit from any distance! Her defense was just as good as her offense and she had six points in steals in only a few minutes. The DVD was about thirty minutes long and had obviously been recorded at home games, judging from the crowd noise.

He watched the whole DVD twice. Haley's athleticism was amazing, as were her ball-handling skills. He thought a one-on-one contest with her wouldn't be a slam-dunk. She might even beat him!

He began to think about when he could go back to his Aunt's for another visit. Easter Vacation was probably the next time he'd get a week off and he wasn't sure that his Auntie and Uncle would want to disrupt their ranch routines for what would turn out to be two driving days for only four or five days there. He texted Haley that he missed her too and that she was "okay" on the court. He knew that would set her off. He couldn't wait for her reply. He didn't have to wait long. His phone beeped to indicate a new text and he opened it.

"I'm so glad you think my skills are okay and can't wait for you to get back here so I can whip your butt! I probably said that before but now I really mean it! I'm also glad you're thinking about me too. I don't know what my Dad will say but maybe we can go out some when you come back. I'd like that. XX Haley."

Donnie sat there open-mouthed, looking at the two capital X's at the end. Two kisses, eh? He was in heaven. After a few minutes he finished his dinner, took his plate to the kitchen and washed it, cleaned up his mess and got ready to pedal down to gym for an evening workout.

Before it seemed like the season had just started, it was over. Madison had won their Conference outright with a twenty-two and two record. They had continued the winning streak at Regionals and were now the fourth seed in the State Semi-Finals. They had to travel three hours to play the second seed, St Mary's in Phillipsville, for a game with the Cougars. Donnie texted Haley regularly about their progress and she replied in kind. Both Redland's teams, boys and girls, were in the State playoffs there as well, only in the small school Division. Some of the Viking team had had the flu the last week and Olowa wasn't even going to dress he was so ill. By the time the bus ride was over they were worn out. The final mile or two took them through an area of the town consisting of mostly abandoned businesses, boarded up stores, and Project-like apartment buildings. There were very few people on the street and the obvious gang members chillin' on street corners and in front of run-down apartment complexes stared expressionlessly at the bus as they passed.

When they got off the bus at the school, the coaches hurried them into their locker room. Most of the kids they'd seen fit the stereotypes of hip-hop music stars or African-American from movies and TV, giving them hard looks and making obscene gestures as they'd walked to the gym. A couple of racial slurs were directed at them but the Madison team was so diverse racially there wasn't much that could be said about them as a group. Even the kids at Madison dressed like that these days. Their pants were worn low and baggy, hats were worn unconventionally, tennis shoes went untied, and colors were displayed everywhere. Urban Natives definitely identified more with Black cultural life and music than they did white. Donnie knew how different it was among rural southern Tribes dominated by country music and sometimes openly anti-Black sentiments. Racial profiling happened to every American group now, depending on where you lived.

Donnie thought about how most of these inner city kids were seen by the European descendants that had control of the U.S. The stereotypes were as out-of-date and mis-informed as those people still held about Native peoples. Donnie remembered the year long controversy that had finally resulted in Madison's mascot and name being changed from the Red Braves to the Knights.

It took a long time to change minds about what harm even a name could do to generations trying to find an identity and place in the world. After all, European descendants didn't have to distinguish between themselves. There weren't any teams called the Italians, or WASPS, or Anglos; nothing that separated them by race. It had been a struggle but they'd finally won. The Knights weren't a particularly exciting mascot but the school administration had embraced the change and the student body seemed indifferent.

The game started off terribly for the Knights. At the jump ball, their sophomore center, Chad Burles, came down with one of his feet on the St Mary's jumpers foot and twisted his ankle badly. It swelled up immediately and everybody knew he was done for the day. The coaches scrambled to assemble the speed team again and ramp up to play man defense, situational traps and presses, featuring their outside game.

The reason the Madison coaches had decided to start with the 'big' team was that the St Mary's team was generally short. Unfortunately they were also fast and well versed in trap and press breaks. Even Donnie was surprised by their quickness, giving up two quick turnovers with a bad entry pass and a steal by his defender when he let the ball get out away from the protection of his body while assessing the court. That allowed four quick points by the Cougars. Donnie drove around his man and dished to the other guard the next time down then floated toward the corner as the forward filled his spot in the five out. The ball flew around the perimeter toward the opposite side where the other Knight forward drove to the short corner, faked a shot then fired a pass over the top of the defenders to Donnie, waiting in the corner. He fielded the pass cleanly with plenty of room between him and the nearest defender. He took his time with the shot and buried the three cleanly.

He immediately yelled "Trap" to remind his teammates that they were pressing on any inbounds play after a made basket. The Cougars broke their press easily and even ended up with a few seconds of four-on-three that resulted in their scoring again.

None of the Knights, other than Donnie, seemed to be hitting their shots while the Cougars built a comfortable lead with four of their five starters contributing to their scoring. Donnie hit another three and two pull-up jumpers from the top-of-the-key to account for all the Knights pitiful first period scoring. The second period began with the Knights trailing by eight points. The Coach reminded them the game would probably be low-scoring with both teams having experienced and talented defenses. His only change to their defense was to pull back to a half-court trap after scoring. For offense he redrew some of the plays they hadn't used recently to give them more scoring opportunities.

The second period was dead even with each team answering the other's scoring with their own. The score was thirty-six to thirty at half-time in favor of the Cougars. One difference in the second quarter was the roughness of play being allowed by Refs. In the first quarter they had called a number of blocking and reaching fouls trying to defuse illegal or dangerous contact on the courts. As it was there was enough elbows being thrown, balls being dived for, tie-ups and players sprawled on the court to give Donnie a feeling that he was playing jungle-ball on the playground. The second quarter was unreal. Donnie saw the Coach stopping by the Scorer's Table to check out the official score book and complain about the rough play before following them to the locker room.

The Coach called them all together, then stood silently for a moment, looking around individually at each of the players.

"Don't count on the referees for help here." He paused for effect. "Everyone's going to have to step up their game if we're gonna get outta here with a win. Now first, on offense, when you set those screens your timing is going to have to be perfect. They're not switching at all. They've been well coached and, like us, know how to get through screens. Second, we can't depend just on the three. We've got to keep them honest and hit a few inside or they're just going to keep pushing us further and further from the key. So here's what we're gonna do."

He drew a number of plays on his white coaching board.

"Donnie?" He turned toward him and pointed his finger. "I want you to switch with Matt and take Number Five. He's killing us in the lane and Matt doesn't have the footwork to keep up. So Matt you've got Twenty-Three."

Matt Foster put his head down.

"Don't worry Matt, my guy ain't so easy either. But he always goes left before he goes right and always fakes a shot before he takes it. I know you'll shut him down."

Matt nodded gratefully to Donnie as the Coach continued.

"Since Number Five does drive the lane so much, Donnie, I want you to start setting up for the charge. We may not get the call but the way it's going we've got to get some of their less talented players involved. Now get out there and do it. Take us to the State Finals."

The team joined hands and gave their unity cheer before running back out onto the court and beginning the seven minutes of free shooting they had left before the opening of the third period. Donnie missed his first three from fairly close range and paid attention to his next shot. All of them were falling short and bouncing off the front rim or rolling around and then off. He closed his eyes and visualized a higher arc to his shot and it dropping through cleanly, then he opened his eyes and shot the ball. The extra arc did the trick, it dropped through with very little movement of the net. He was right on again.

The third period was like the second, with each team matching the other score for score. Donnie had actually gotten a charge called on Number Five but as far as fouls being called, that was about it. At the end of the third he hit another three and was blasted backward by his defender. He hit the back of his head hard on the maple floor and saw stars for a moment. The referee finally called a foul and Donnie went to the line. His head ached badly and his vision was a little blurry so he took a few extra seconds before starting his routine and burying the free-throw for a four point play. The points brought the Knights to within three of the Cougars.

The fourth period was rough beyond belief. Even with superb defenses the players were playing slightly out of control. Knowing that there was little likelihood that fouls would be called, and with practically no team-fouls in the score book on either team, Donnie knew that this was one of those games that would end without depending on free-throw shooting.

On the Knights third possession of the fourth period, Donnie was bringing the ball up when he noticed something was wrong. His depth perception seemed to be screwed up somehow. His dribbling felt shaky. He was just acknowledging that when his defender lurched forward bumping him hard while reaching to knock the dribble away from him. Donnie was off balance from the bump and lost the ball. The defender pounced on it and sprinted to the opposite end to finish with a layup.

Donnie felt his face flush in anger. He was angry at the officials and he was angry at himself. He brought the ball down more carefully the next time, did a double crossover in front of his defender, then executed a right jab step with a quick crossover dribble between his legs to the left and finishing with a drive to the top of the key where he fired up a shot. The ball hit the backboard hard but dropped straight through the hoop. As Donnie retreated to his defensive position amid the hoots, catcalls, and cheers of the crowd, he knew he'd gotten lucky. It was a terrible shot he'd taken. Something was wrong. Number Five approached him with the ball and Donnie remembered the way he had been manhandled at mid-court by the smaller red-haired boy. Angry again, Donnie roughly bumped the boy again and again trying unsuccessfully to dislodge the ball. Frustrated, Donnie tried to slap the ball away and was startled to hear a whistle. Number Five went to the line and added a free throw to the Cougars side of the scoreboard. Another whistle sounded and Donnie turned to find that his Coach had called a timeout. He was disgruntled to see the Coach staring straight at him as he came off the court.

"What's going on Sands? What kind of defense is that?"

Donnie shrugged, his head pounding unmercifully.

"Well you better get it together pronto because that big scoreboard up there shows us down by four with three minutes to go. Take some deep breaths boys, this is where the fruit hits the fan."

Everybody smiled at the change he'd made in the familiar simile. He usually didn't say fruit. Then their expressions turned serious again and they were back out on the court before the referee's whistle.

Donnie slid the entry pass in to the guard on his right and then immediately went to screen for him.

His defender yelled, "screen coming, get through" and stepped back a giant step to allow room for the defender to slide off of Donnie's screen and step through to take the guard dribbling off the screen.

Donnie simply took two more steps to the right as the dribbling guard pivoted and drilled the ball back to him on the line. Donnie's shot bounced off the rim but was rebound by Roy Washington, Donnie's teammate, and put back in for two. Only two down now, Donnie thought, looking up at the scoreboard. One minute, fifty-five seconds left. In basketball, that's an eternity.

The Knights played tough defense on the next play forcing the Cougars to shoot in desperation as their thirty-second play-clock ran out. The Cougars immediately pressed on the inbounds play and the Knights ran a pre-set pres-break to fast-break play. It started with all the offensive players in the back court, spread at equal distances from each other. Roy inbounded the ball to Donnie who kicked it back to Roy, who immediately passed it to the other side where it was again passed back to him. Each time Roy moved five or ten steps up the court. After two similar exchanges, Donnie got the ball, faked a pass back to Roy and speed-dribbled up the sideline to the baseline where, recognizing a three-on-two, he hit Mark Foster breaking into the lane with a perfect bounce pass. Foster finished with a driving layup and leap that was just short of a dunk. The few Madison fans cheered wildly. The game was tied.

The Knights defense again held the Cougars to a poor shot and this time the Cougars pulled back to their defensive positions in the forecourt. Donnie brought the ball down with a minute to go. He dribbled deliberately down the court, taking as much time off the clock as they regularly practiced. The Coach was okay with burning fifteen seconds but by then he wanted Donnie to begin the play. Donnie passed left and the ball went to the corner and ultimately came back to him at the top, he tried to drive the lane looking for the dish but no one came open. The shot clock was down to five seconds when he saw Brett Sairs break to the high post. Donnie looked away and faked a pass and then hit Brett, all in one motion. Brett slightly mishandled the pass and went up for his jumper a little later than he wanted to. The defensive player was able to close but Brett just got the shot away before he got nailed. The fans went wild drowning out the late whistle. When the crowd discovered that their player had been called for a foul the mood got ugly. A number of vicious threats were hurled at the court. Brett went to the line for two. He missed the first and Donnie, watching from the mid-court safety position, held his breath on the second. The ball hit the backboard, then the rim, then rolled around twice, hung there for a moment and fell through the net. He let his breath out in one big exhale as the whistle blew to indicated that the Cougars had taken a timeout.

Donnie took a moment to check out the crowd as he walked to the bench. The place was packed. Getting out of here if they won was going to be scary.

The Coach went over the scoring, telling them the number of points their opposite five players on the court had scored during the game. The numbers proved that any one of them could be dangerous if left on their own. The Knights would have to play tough defense one more time.

"Sands?"

Donnie looked up at the coach.

"I'd bet Jeremy Lin's jockey shorts that Number Five will end up with the ball in the end. The way he plays, I'm sure he'll bring it to you."

Donnie nodded. It would probably be his stop that would decide the game. As he ran back out on the court he tried to decide how to play it. He knew he could take away any open shot. The question was, if the boy drove could he get into position to deny the shot without fouling. The two were equal in speed but Number Five had the advantage of knowing where he was going. He looked at the scoreboard again. Twenty-nine seconds to go.

Number Five brought the ball down but passed it off right away, cut to the high post as the ball was passed high and overhead to the opposite side. Number Five cut back to the top of the key to receive the pass from the off-side guard.

Donnie had good but not perfect position on him defensively. He saw Number Five field the pass and survey the court. Suddenly Donnie knew exactly what the other boy was going to do. Anticipating his move, Donnie shuffled backward three steps as Number Five gathered himself for a final drive to the hoop. Donnie got there first and set his feet, crossing his arms in front of him like he was in eighth grade. Just as he'd predicted, Number Five crashed the lane at full speed and, unable to stop himself as he jumped to release the shot, smashed full into Donnie, sprawling both of them on the hardwood. A whistle sounded and Donnie smiled to himself.

The smile didn't last long. The official was pointing at him and making the hands-at-the-hips blocking foul gesture toward the Scorers Table followed by Donnie's number. Donnie stood in shock and the referee had to take him by the arm to get him out of the lane where the players were lining up for the resulting free-throw. He hadn't gotten the charge! He should have gotten the call. His feet had been set and he was fully facing the shooter with zero movement.

Nevertheless, the shot had fallen and Donnie winced when he saw the scoreboard showed the Cougars up by one with three seconds remaining. His teammates and some of the Knights fans were still yelling at the official when Number Five hit his free-throw for the three point play. The Vikings were able to inbound the ball but Matt Sair's Hail Mary wasn't even close. The buzzer sounded and, just like that, the Knight's basketball season was over.

But the bad news was just beginning for Donnie Sands.

The team dressed in almost absolute silence and bore the new catcalls and insults walking back to the bus. Just before they climbed aboard the Coach's cell phone chimed and he grimaced as he pulled it out of his pocket to answer it. His expression turned grave and he stopped Donnie as he was about to get on board.

"I need to talk to you son", he said, putting his arm around Donnie's shoulder.

Donnie drew away instinctively, knowing something bad had happened. He'd never seen the Coach put his arm around anyone. Ever.

"What's happened?"

"Your Mom was in an accident in the city."

Donnie's mind raced as he looked at his watch. His Mom should still be at work. Why would she leave the hospital?

"How is she?"

"She's in surgery. They said you should get there as fast as you can. It doesn't look good. Mr. Sair has volunteered to drive you there in his car so you don't have to take the bus."

Donnie nodded as Mr. Sair guided him to their Honda Accord and they began the drive back to Midlands.

Donnie had been sitting in the Emergency Waiting Room for two hours. It was after one in the morning. By his estimation his Mom had been in surgery now for at least four and a half hours. He had a dreadful tightness in his chest and his stomach was pitching back and forth like a ship in heavy seas. His Aunt and Uncle were on their way and he'd left a message for his Dad in Mvskoge. He was about to go for a walk and get some air when one of the Nurses gestured for him to come with her and he was taken into the Intensive Care Wait Room. He stood uncertainly for a moment and then sat down. She knelt beside him.

"I'm Carrie. I've known and worked with your Mom since she first came here. I'm so sorry this has happened."

"I don't understand. Why did she leave the Hospital during her work hours, she never does that?"

Carrie sighed heavily.

"She never had a son playing varsity basketball in the State Semi-Finals."

"Are you saying she left early because of me?"

Donnie was horrified to think he might have contributed to this.

"She's had a shift change planned for a month in case you guys made it. She arranged to be able to go to the rest of your games."

Donnie emotions threatened to break him like water poised on breaching a dam.

"Is she going to make it?"

As if on cue, a doctor in surgical garb holding his mask in hand, came through the doorway and walked to them. Donnie and Carrie looked up hopefully.

The doctor shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid we lost her. Her injuries were too severe."

Donnie didn't even hear the last part. The dam had burst and he was lost in a sea of grief, unable to see shore or find anything to keep him from drowning.

He didn't remember leaving the hospital. He faintly remembered someone asking if he wanted to see her but pushed the thought way violently. Why would he want to see her if she wasn't there anymore? He hadn't really grown up with any religion or practices to guide him on what was traditional or proper so he way going with his gut and his gut told him he wanted to remember her alive, not as an empty shell.

He walked to a nearby park and sat on a bench by a small stream, alternating between complete silence and uncontrollable sobbing. He didn't know how long he sat there but the sky was lightening in the east when a patrol car parked not far away and an officer got out and jogged over to him. Donnie wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve and remade his face into a rock.

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Sands would it?"

Donnie's face registered surprise, then dropped again.

"Your Aunt called in about an hour ago to ask us to be on the lookout for you. You ready to come with us, we'll take you home?"

Donnie looked around the park. The morning joggers were beginning to appear on some of the trails. In a little while the homeless people would begin coming out of their sleeping places and he would no longer have the park to himself. He nodded and stood up, letting the officer lead him to the patrol car and enduring the ride to the place he had called home for his entire life.

"So what do you want to do? You're welcome here with us. We've got a lot of relatives that'll help take care of you."

Donnie couldn't help notice that his Dad didn't say he would take care of Donnie, just that "relatives" he didn't know would. His Dad had called him only a few minutes after the patrol car had pulled up in front of the house. An officer got out to make sure he made it up the steps alright as his Auntie, tears dripping down her cheeks, hugged him tight before leading him inside.

A few hours ago he wouldn't have had a choice, he would have had to go with his Dad. However just before his Dad called, his Auntie and Uncle had each taken one of his hands and led them into his Mom's room. He burst into tears and each of them joined him. In the midst of his grief, Donnie thought it strange to see his tough, leathery Uncle bawling like a baby, his red cheeks streaked with tears and his eyes puffy and red.

When they were all cried out his Auntie said gravely, "We know this has been your home, but the Creator has broken that bond and whether you want to or not, it can't be remade. Your mother's spirit 'll make the journey and reach behind the mystery. Come stay with us and let the animals and the earth around you heal the hurt in your heart. We'll do our best to stay out of your way and give you the time you need. We'll arrange for a home schooling program and then, if you want, you can start school there again as a senior. Other than that, the only place for you to go is with your Father."

Donnie was holding the phone, listening to the semi-strange voice of a father he never really knew. He really was alone now. He thought of the horses and the small stream by the big cottonwoods at the end of the far pasture. Maybe there was a place for him there.

"I don't want to hurt your feelin's Dad, but I think I'm going with Auntie Lil to the ranch. I like the horses and...its quiet."

There was a long silence before his Father spoke again.

"I guess I understand. But you're always welcome here if things don't work out..." he trailed off. "I guess I better go now. When is the funeral?"

"She didn't want one," Donnie said, his voice cracking with emotion. He gulped and tried to continue. "She said she just wanted to be cremated and her ashes spread in a Sacred Place. I don't know where one is but..."

"Well we've got plenty here if you need one. So... take care of yourself and call me once in awhile. Bye."

Donnie didn't say goodbye. After his Auntie had told him not to, he noticed his Mom never said goodbye either. She would say "I love you" or "See you later" or whatnot., but never goodbye. Now he understood why. You never really knew when goodbye would really mean goodbye. Donnie stood holding the dead phone until he was sure his father had hung up then carefully put it back on the receiver.

His Aunt looked at him expectantly.

"I'll go back to the ranch."

She nodded and they began packing his stuff. His Uncle was going to make all the cremation arrangements, get the house up on the market, and put his Mother's affairs in order. It took Donnie and his Aunt two hours to pack everything he owned, load it in the car, and begin the trip to his new home.

Donnie lay down his long riding jacket on the snow that still surrounded the banks of the stream beside the cottonwoods in the early summer sun. He closed his eyes to smell the air. It had a dryness and all he could smell was sage. The air was just warm enough to sit still without getting cold. White whisps of clouded drifted by above him. Off to the west the clouds grouped closely together in regularly formed, unevenly shaped blotches. They covered most of the sky in that direction. Donnie could sense the weather change even before the telltale signs of the western clouds had started climbing the horizon.

He'd been at the ranch for three months and hadn't left to go anywhere during all that time. The first morning there he surprised both his Aunt and Uncle by showing up in the kitchen at 4:30 AM to help drink the two pots of coffee usually consumed before starting the morning chores. He moved easily back into his old schedule of work, throwing himself into it, paying close attention to all the animals.

He learned to milk the cows, but preferred to work with the horses. The first time he had tried milking he couldn't get the idea that he had to tighten his thumb and first finger around the teat to keep the milk from flowing back up into the udder before squeezing down from his middle to little finger forcing the milk to stream into the pail. His Uncle liked to use an old fashioned metal pail for milking and since there were only two cows to milk that wasn't a problem. Donnie only had the pail kicked over a couple of times, primarily at the beginning when he didn't know what he was doing. Once he failed to warm up his hands and the cold touch of his fingers caused the cow to shy and wriggle its butt, stepping around with her back feet and knocking it over. He also noticed that if you waited just a little longer than they were used to that they stood quieter and let the milking happen without problem to get their bursting udders emptied. His Uncle taught him always to be careful to leave enough milk for the calves. As long as the calves fed, the cow didn't dry up.

He got to really know each of the horses individually this time. Before, he had only paid attention to the ones he rode and those in training. Now he was interested in the differences in their breed and temperament. His Uncle didn't discriminate by breed on his ranch.

Donnie had spent some time on the net reading about the different breeds, particularly those used by his people. He learned of the Iberian stock brought to the mainlands by the Conquistadors, the grandparents of all American Indian Horses. They stood small at an average of thirteen to fifteen hands high and were fairly easy to jump onto from the ground. His Uncle's only breeding program was for Appaloosa's, an ancient breed that was developed by the Nez Perce as a specifically American breed. The Appy's were stable emotionally and reliable but in some cases they were high spirited and had a genetic proclivity for problems and diseases of the eyes that they had to be constantly vigilant to detect. They also had a few Azteca Paint mares, a rare Choctaw stud, a number of bigger Quarter horse mares and geldings, a couple of huge Thoroughbred mares with one stud, and two Arabian studs and a mare, the oldest breed of horse in the world. The Arabian was highly sensitive and intelligent with a natural tendency to cooperate with humans, but when treated badly, like any horse, they could become excessively nervous or anxious. Like people, Donnie thought. He had learned that most horses would not become vicious biters or kickers unless they had been seriously spoiled or subjected to extreme abuse.

The six studs were kept separate from the mares. While Uncle Frank oversaw the Appy breeding program, he allowed other breeders from as far away as California to bring their horses to the ranch to be bred by his other studs. This meant that at any one time the ranch might have their sixteen horses plus another two to five to care for daily. It was a big job and Danny didn't have much time to think.

He missed his Mom mostly in the evenings at dinnertime and in his room before he went to sleep. He missed her tender kisses on his forehead and her gentle reassurance whenever his self-confidence or esteem took a tumble. His tears had dried up as the weeks had passed and gradually he returned to emotional balance.

One morning in May, his Auntie Lil announced they were going into town for the day so she could attend the Tribal Council meeting.

"I'd really like for you to go with us."

It sounded like a question and a statement combined.

Donnie thought carefully. He was here now and he was going to be here at least through the next school year, he guessed it was time he made an appearance on the Rez.

After the morning chores were done, they drove to the Tribal Center in Elk Shoulder. They passed the Tribal Health Center and Danny winced as he remembered the pain and humiliation he'd felt as the nurses and doctor's tended to his injuries the last time here. They pulled up into the parking lot at the center.

It was only about ten minutes until the meeting was supposed to begin and only about a third of the parking places were taken. He figured most of the people already here were those who lived locally off-Rez or perhaps even further away.

Gradually the cars and trucks streamed in and his Aunt went in to sign the meeting registry kept by the Tribal Secretary. She came out holding a white piece of paper which she stuffed in her jean jacket pocket.

Lil saw Donnie watching her and said, " Once the meeting's over I can turn it in for a hundred dollar chip at the casino. That's the only way to get all of us to the meeting."

His Uncle and he sat in the truck for an hour after his Auntie went in for the meeting. Frank told him they never knew how long it would be. Sometimes the meetings would only last and hour or two, sometimes all day, and sometimes until the Sheriff's Department and the Tribal Police showed up to prevent or defuse violent disagreements.

His Uncle asked Donnie if he wanted to go into town for coffee, but Donnie had spotted a playground with outdoor hoops just across from the Tribal Center at the Middle School.

"Mind if I shoot some hoops instead, Uncle?"

Donnie chin-pointed to the school playground.

"Did you bring a ball?", his Uncle asked.

"Got one in the back."

"Always prepared, huh?"

"A star has to work on his craft", Donnie puffed up his chest, then broke into a big smile and laughed. "I love basketball".

"I know you do", his Uncle replied. "Okay, I'll see you back here in about an hour."

Donnie jumped out and retrieved his ball from the cargo area, then gave his Uncle a short wave and trotted across the road to the blacktop.

He'd been shooting free-throws for about five minutes when he heard a voice from across the road yell, "Looks like the prodigal skin has returned and he's missing his free-throws like a normal human being."

Donnie recognized the voice and looked up to see Jumps standing across the road, hands on his hips.

"Maybe you should come over and give me some lessons."

"I think you need it, for sure."

Jumps bounded across the road and they arm shook, then he patted Donnie on the shoulder.

"Let's see."

Donnie lifted his face for Jumps to examine.

"I dunno, I think maybe the bent over nose gives your bland face some character."

He said it seriously but Donnie knew him well enough now to know that this was his way of saying he was glad Donnie was okay.

"My groupies seem to like it."

"Yeah, in your dreams." Jumps face got serious. "Sorry, 'bout your Mom."

"Thanks."

"How long you been around?"

"Since about the end of February."

"I guess I was last on your must-see list."

"I haven't seen anybody since I got back. I've stayed at the ranch, helpin' out."

"I understand, but I don't know if she will", he looked past Donnie.

Donnie turned to see Haley standing only a few feet away, arms crossed in front of her. She was actually tapping her foot. If not for the angry look on her face Donnie might have laughed at the pose she was taking. It was like something from a TV sitcom, exaggerated.

"How did you guys know I was here?" he asked, prolonging the apology he knew he was going to have to make as he frantically tried to figure out what kind of excuse he was going to give her.

"When were you going to let me know you were back?"

Donnie sighed and decided to tell the truth.

"Haley, I wanted to...but I just wasn't...ready."

Her expression turned to sympathy and she stepped quickly forward and gave him a full body hug. He held on to her even after she had relaxed her arms.

"So, how did you know I was going to be here?"

"We knew your Auntie would show up to the meeting. Since you weren't answering our texts and your city phone got disconnected we didn't know what to think", Jumps answered.

Haley said, "So are you gonna stay and go to Redlands High this year?"

"That's the plan", Donnie answered simply. Standing with his friends his anxiety retreated and he felt a comfortable sense of being home again that surprised him. "It's good to be back. As long as I don't end up at Tribal Health again."

"No worries, Mate" Jumps said in a bad Aussie accent, "We've got you a whole herd of bodyguards this time. One of them is going to turn eleven this year."

Donnie laughed and slammed the ball against the ground.

"So you two up for some "Horse" "?

"Just waitin' for you to ask", Jumps replied.

Donnie won the first game with hook shots, Jumps won the second with turn around jumpers from ten to twenty feet, and Haley won the third game with three-pointers. They had just finished that third game and were standing together answering Donnie's questions about Redlands High School when people started streaming out of the Tribal Center. The General Council meeting was obviously over.

"At least they didn't have to call the cops this time", Haley observed wryly. "Are we gonna be like them?"

Donnie wasn't sure he should comment on Tribal affairs just yet but Jumps leaped in with his opinion.

"If the Montoya and Walks-Fast families would give somebody else a job except their own families, maybe people would trust them more!"

"The Walks-Fast family has controlled the Rez for more than a generation. They've just got too many family members on the Rez to get outvoted on anything", Haley complained.

"When are you guys gonna come out to the ranch?" Donnie asked, changing the subject.

"How 'bout tomorrow?" Jumps asked.

"I don' think my Dad 'll let me", Haley said.

"It'll just be for the day", said Donnie, ignoring Jumps and turning toward Haley. He saw a look pass between Jumps and Haley. "Is there a problem?"

Haley looked down at the ground and said softly, "My Dad, well he's kinda traditional and... picky about where I go and who I see. He'll have a cow if I go any place with you before he's met you and okay'd it."

Donnie had the feeling she wanted to say something else but couldn't. He decided to let it go.

"Yeah, well we'll have to make that happen soon. In the meantime, my days are pretty full at the ranch. If you want to come out and help me do my work," he looked to Jumps, "you're welcome anytime. I could use another willing slave."

Jumps looked like he was reconsidering for a moment, then said "Yes, Master."

Donnie saw his Auntie standing by the truck watching them. When she saw him look her way she gestured to him.

"I guess I gotta go. I'll text you both tonite."

He gave Jumps a quick high-five then stepped close to Haley, gazing into her eyes. She didn't look away. He smiled and she returned it. He stepped a little closer to where their noses were almost touching.

"I guess I'll see you."

"Yeah. Come to the gym on Tuesday nights and play some ball. I promise you won't get thrashed this time and you can meet most of the ball players that play for the school. Maybe Dale Johnny will let you try out for the traveling team, but its expensive."

"I don't think I can afford that, but I'll definitely show up at the gym."

An awkward silence hovered between them for a moment until Haley reached up and put her arms around Donnie's neck and rubbed her nose against his.

"You know, I think I like your nose better this way. You're not quite so ugly now."

"And I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Donnie flushed red when he said it and Haley's face got very serious. She looked deeply into his eyes and gently kissed him on the lips.

Donnie's eyes widened in surprise from the kiss as she pushed him away roughly.

"Boys", she huffed. "They're so much trouble!"

She gave him a sly smile, then sprinted across the road to where her mother, father, and sister stood beside their Toyota Tundra. Donnie noticed her father staring at him intensely. He waved, but the man ignored him and got in the truck to drive his family away.

Jumps only lasted one day on the Ranch. He made the excuse that he had to go home and take care of his little brothers while his Mom was at work but Donnie could see that he wasn't used to getting up early and busting his hump all day. They'd shot a few hoops after lunch and ridden the dirt bikes after that, but Jumps went down in a heap trying to navigate the whoops on the rough track Teddy and his Uncle had built. After the fall, Jumps seemed to lose his enthusiasm for riding and he and Donnie played Xbox until it was time for Donnie to start his afternoon chores. Jump's Mom showed up a half hour later and they promised to meet at the gym on the following Tuesday.

Donnie went to the gym every Tuesday during the summer. He met a lot of the people from the Rez and most of the kids that he'd play alongside during the basketball season. The Fourth of July came quickly and this year Donnie looked forward to the Parade and the Powwow. Haley wasn't the Princess this year and she rode with her family, occasionally looking furtively over her shoulder to smile at Donnie, riding about thirty yards behind. She was dancing Traditional this year and Donnie couldn't wait to see her outfit. That evening, sitting in a folding chair beside his Auntie, a man dressed in Men's Traditional clothing was talking to her in the Redlands language. It was a heated conversation and Donnie could tell his Auntie was getting riled.

When the man walked away, Donnie said, "What was that about Auntie?"

"That's Walter. He's one of the ceremonial leaders. He wanted to know if I was going to go to the Renewal this year. He knows I'm a Christian but he always asks anyway cause us Big-Horses used to have big responsibilities in our Ceremonies. He also said his family was going to do a Give-Away for your Mom since we're not doing one. He said we could lead the procession and asked if we had a picture of her to carry."

"Why did you get so upset?"

"Oh, I didn't." Donnie gave her a look. "Okay, I did get a little steamed. He tried to make me feel bad that I'm not participating in the Renewal. I told him when all the men stop drinking, doing drugs and beating their wives I might consider it. That really ticked him off 'cause he knows its true. Used to be, only those of the best character were trusted with being around the Medicine during the Ceremony. The last couple of generations that's been hard to find so they take just about anyone that wants to Pledge these days. He knows I'd rather see it pass away than continue damaging the People with the repercussions from the disrespect and insincerity of a lot of the Ceremonial participants. He knows that's true too but he doesn't know what to do about it. His family's been entrusted to carry it on and he takes it seriously. I feel sorry for him, trying to keep it pure and being true to how he was taught it should be." She shook her head negatively. "I don't know what will happen when he passes away, he's the strongest and most knowledgeable of our old men."

Donnie didn't know what to say, but he was interested.

"Can you tell me about our Ceremonies and whatnot?"

She peered at him closely, then nodded.

"We'll start tomorrow, but I need to ask Joe Wills to help. A man needs to prepare you. My responsibilities are for the women. The men handle their own. I'll give you the history and basic description of what we believe and what we do, though that's changed a lot even since I can remember. But if you want to really learn, then you have to give some tobacco to a knowledgeable Elder man and ask him to prepare you. He doesn't have to do it if he thinks you aren't ready or serious about it, or if he just doesn't like you. It can be dangerous for you, him, all of us if he went ahead when he didn't feel right about it. Anyway, you haven't even had your naming ceremony yet and most of our boys that are traditional go through that when they're twelve or thirteen. You're getting a late start so maybe he'll take pity on you. I'll have him come over so you can give him the offering and ask for his help".

Donnie ran into Haley at the water spigot the next morning.

"You looked great in your outfit last night. How long did it take to put together with all the bead work and stuff? It looked heavy."

"It is heavy, but my Grandma, Aunties and my Mom have been working on it for a long time. They add something every year. I've been dancing Traditional since I had my sunrise Ceremony at thirteen but I just started Fancy Shawl two years ago. I like that better cause its so much more active. Traditional is reserved and dignified, Fancy Shawl is controlled joy! "

"So, can we meet here like--twenty times a day?" Donnie asked, only half joking.

"I think my family'd get suspicious. But I usually go with my Mom to watch hand-game after I dance, maybe I could meet you there?"

"It's a date", Donnie said.

"Let's not call it that yet, okay. My Dad...let's just say he wasn't too pleased with our kiss at the Middle School. He actually told me I wasn't to see you again. But then when have I ever done everything my parents say."

"But why doesn't he want you to see me. He doesn't even know me!"

Haley tossed her wet hair around and said, "You'd be surprised how much he knows; about you, about everything. Your family was a big deal on this Rez since the beginning. My Dad was taught ceremony by your Grandpa. He was like a Grandfather to everyone. Your Grandma taught my Mom to bead and make leather from skins. When they passed away and your Auntie married Frank, my Dad kinda looked to your Mom to go to school and then come back and be a leader for the People. When she left to go to the city that was a big deal around here. And then when she never brought you around...everyone was a little hurt even though they wouldn't say it. We might not seem to get along, but everybody here is tight. Anyway when my Dad heard your Mom died and you were coming here to live he was pretty quiet about it. He didn't know that I met you last year at the Powwow and when he saw us together in town, kissing--he just freaked out."

"But what's he got against me?"

"It a lot about how you look and the fact your not a fullblood."

"I'm almost a fullblood."

"But your Dad is from another Tribe. My Dad's old fashioned, he thinks your Dad should have come here to live with your Mom. Then you would have grown up as one of us."

"So how do I make it right?"

"That's up to you. You can start by learning about our ways, our ceremonies, our beliefs."

"I've read everything written about the Tribe...."

Haley snorted like an old mare, "Read it in a book, huh? Just like every other wannabee in the world. You have to live it to understand it."

"I'm giving Joe, I can't remember his last name, some tobacco to help me learn what I don't know."

Haley looked surprised.

"Is he an old man that wears red suspenders and a red head band?"

"I think so."

She shrugged. "That's Joseph Wills. He's one of the Society Elders." She leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips. "That's a start. I gotta go, see you tonight."

Donnie watched her walk away, reveling in the after-bliss of a new kiss. "Man, I'm like a fish on the hook", he said to himself out loud. Just like a hungry puppy he couldn't seem to think about anything but her. The next few hours it seemed like time slowed down, but eventually he found himself sitting beside his Auntie with tobacco wrapped in red cloth as he waited for Joe Wills. When the Elder finally did show up, Donnie was both embarrassed and uncomfortable to kneel down and place the tobacco on the man's foot but that was how his Aunt said it should be done. Joe obviously wasn't expecting it and quickly looked at Lil for understanding. His Auntie was beaming.

"Will you teach me, Uncle?" Donnie said in the Redlands language. His Auntie had taught him how to pronounce the words right and he had been practicing all day.

The older man was obviously caught unprepared. A number of Tribal members close by had witnessed the whole thing and everyone seemed to be looking at them.

"I'll have to think on it", was all Joe said to him before winding his way through the chairs to make his escape.

Donnie looked at his Auntie. She seemed to be gazing nonchalantly out at the dance grounds but as he sat down she took his hand in her own and squeezed it hard.

Donnie had to look carefully in the darkness to spot Natalie and her Mom in one corner of the arbor watching the game intently. He stood watching the game until he saw Haley lean over toward her Mom and say something. He saw her Mom make a short reply, then Haley got up and headed for the entrance. Donnie waited for a moment then followed. His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness when someone grabbed his hand and led him away quickly toward a stand of brush with a grove of big pine trees surrounding it. As soon as they were buried in the tall brush, Haley pulled him downward toward the ground. There was a large blanket spread out beneath them.

"You're really prepared. Do you do this a lot?"

"No, I don't. You're actually the first. We can't stay long. My Mom 'll know somethin's up." She took his hands in hers, facing him on her knees. "I can't imagine how this is gonna work between you and me. My family will have a cow if they find out. They're so old fashioned."

Donnie thought that for a moment she was going to say something else but before he could speak she leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. Her mouth was closed and her soft puffy lips, coupled with the light fragrance of her perfume, caused Donnie to float on a cloud of bliss.

She pulled him down on the blanket so they were lying side by side. "Don't get any ideas. Even though most of the kids here have already had sex by the time they get into high school, I have ceremonial responsibilities. I need to stay a virgin until I'm tied to someone traditionally."

"And you made this decision yourself? You aren't just afraid what your family would say...or with getting pregnant?"

"No, most of my friends make fun of me but actually I think they're jealous. A lot of them have terrible problems at home. Some of them get abused by their brothers, or their Uncles, even their Fathers. Most of the people won't talk about it out loud but its happening. I guess that kind of stuff happens everywhere to all kinds of people, but we're such a close community here everybody knows...or most everybody. But that's not why we're here."

Her eyes got a devilish glint and she pulled him close again and began covering his face with kisses. He lightly put a hand on her hip and dipped his head to kiss her neck, starting under her chin and, as she turned her head, continued all the way around to the nape of her neck. They kissed again and this time her mouth was wet and open. Donnie had only French-kissed a girl once before but that experience had no comparison to this. It was tender and passionate at the same time. Touching her tongue with his caused what felt like an electric current zip down his spine to his toes. Her kisses got stronger as his hands firmly caressed her back. Both their breathing had become ragged and loud. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he thought it would burst.

Haley pulled back suddenly, gasping to catch her breath. "I think we've gone about as far as we can without getting carried away." She saw the disappointment in his eyes. "We got plenty of time to get to know each other better. This was just a taste of what's to come. Let's enjoy it as it happens and not rush into it. That okay with you?"

Donnie gulped and nodded as she closed the distance again and started another round of intense kissing. This time both sets of their hands ran over each other, avoiding the places they knew could make stopping harder. After a moment they both came up for air again and Haley drew back, scrambling to her feet.

"I'm afraid that's about as much as I can take. I've never really felt like this before."

"Me neither", Donnie said hurriedly. He wanted her to know it was as wonderful for him as it had been for her. He couldn't deny that he was driven to take their caresses further, but knew that that was just the nature of being male.

"I appreciate your understanding and not being pushy for more. Believe me I can't wait until the day we finally do it... but I can't say how long it'll be before that happens. I'm more attracted to you than anyone I've ever met. I don't know why, you're not the best looking boy I've seen...there's just something, some spark between us. Anyway, if our relationship survives all the tests that are coming, we'll get to that point someday and by waiting, maybe we'll appreciate it more."

Donnie's heart was still pounding like a racehorse. He nodded to everything she said, only slightly registering the meaning of her words. He knew she was right but his blood was boiling. He slowly climbed to his feet and she immediately attached herself to him, kissing him feverishly, then grabbing his hand once again and dragging him from their hideaway and back toward the hand-game arbor. She stopped just before they reached it to give him another quick, wet kiss and then hugged him, pressed something into his hand, turned and went inside.

Donnie stood outside for a moment reveling in the afterglow of her affection. He examined what she'd put in his hand. It was a wrist band made of braided strips of colored cloth. He put it on and tried to relive the last half hour in his mind. It was the most overpowering feeling he'd ever had. It took all his will to walk back to his camp. He wanted to be at her side to watch everything she did, every expression, every movement. The drum pounded in a rhythm that he recognized. The Fancy Dance competition was happening. He thought about going over to watch, but ended up in a folding chair beside the camp table, gazing at the full sky of stars and enjoying the warm night air.

The next morning was overcast and the air felt humid and heavy. The Give-Away for his Mom was happening this morning and despite the wonder of the previous night, his heart filled again with grief that his Mom was gone. His Auntie led him into the dance circle holding an eight-by-ten of his Mom smiling and beautiful. The drum was slow and steady as the procession grew behind them and, before they knew it, people stretched all the way around the circle. Donnie felt his eyes well up with tears as he realized the feeling that everyone had had for his mother. Despite leaving the Rez and not participating in the social and political life of the People, they still offered her the respect and affection afforded to every Tribal member. Donnie had looked for Haley in the procession. He saw her and her family about mid-way through the group behind him. His feeling of belonging and pride increased as he proudly carried the photo and met the eyes of those in the stands that had not known his mother with strength and dignity.

After the procession ended, the Give-Away proceeded with the announcer asking those who had come from a long distance be the first to go to the table and receive their gift, taking away a laundry basket full of WalMart household and kitchen items. After that, the call came for a number of the oldest Elders who were presented with colorful new Pendleton blankets as a teenager passed out shopping bags of arts and craft supplies with a little candy thrown in for the children. Finally the call came for those who were poor or in need. Only a few people went to the table at that time, swallowing their pride and receiving similar shopping bags as those that had traveled great distances. All came away beaming with gratitude.

Donnie watched with pride from his place beside his Auntie. When it was over they went back to pack-up their camp. They couldn't stay until the closing ceremonies. Teddy, back at the Ranch, had a large family and his Uncle Frank didn't like to cause him to be away from them for too long at a time.

He made a number of trips to the water spigot to see if he could run in to Haley again but she wasn't there any of those times. By mid-afternoon they pulled out of camp and slowly drove around the long dirt circle to the highway. Donnie waited until he could spot where Haley's family had made their camp and then, fingering the cloth at his wrist, pressed his nose against the window scanning the area for any glimpse of her. Her camp was silent and without activity. He was disappointed, but withdrew into himself and daydreamed the whole way back to the ranch about their time together on the blanket, rewinding it like a video, over and over again.

Donnie was in the middle of bucking hay bales off the ramp from the truck into the hay loft of the barn. when he heard his Uncle calling to him from below. He bucked the last bale into place and then drove the hooks into the next bale and climbed down the ladder. To his surprise he saw Joe Wills standing next to his Uncle.

"I'll leave you to it", his Uncle said, walking toward the barn doors.

Donnie could see the Elder man sizing him up.

"You still interested in our Way?"

Donnie nodded.

"It's a life commitment", the other man said seriously. "Once you get into it there are responsibilities you'll have...to the People, your family, everybody. Your Aunt said you haven't had your Coming of Age Ceremony?"

Donnie nodded again.

"My Society has agreed to let you begin your participation in the Renewal, but you have to "become a Man" first, get your adult name, and do the work required of you." He waited a moment to see if Donnie had anything to say, then continued. "Your Uncle has agreed to let you come up to the Grounds next weekend to help begin cutting firewood for the ceremonies. After that, if everyone agrees, I'll sweat you up and begin your preparations." He changed the subject. "Why don't you show me your horses...I've never been out here before."

Donnie led the Elder around the stalls and then out to the corral to view the stock. They got to the Thoroughbred's and Joe was obviously fascinated by their size.

"These are some big animals", he said shortly, rubbing one of the mares on her crown and whispering into her ear. "How do you get up on them without a saddle?"

Donnie smiled.

"Well, first I get up on one of the quarter horses, then ride up beside them and climb up on their back from there."

Joe looked at him incredulously.

"Are you serious? How do you control them; bit, halter or hackamore?"

Donnie flushed red.

"Actually, I only did it once...with a hackamore. And I wasn't able to control her at all! She went where she wanted to. She even drug me through a bunch of low tree limbs to try and brush me off. I had red stripes across my face for a week. Finally I just had to risk it and jumped off."

"That's a lot of horse."

Joe Wills didn't comment on the stupidity what Donnie had just described.

"Can you meet me at the Tribal Center next Saturday at five AM?

"Yes."

"Good. Bring your work gloves."

The Elder turned on his heel and walked out of the barn. Donnie stood for a moment then followed. Joe was climbing into his old Ford pickup. His Uncle was standing off to the side, watching. Donnie moved to his side to watch the older man drive down the entrance road to the gate.

"So, you're gonna get in deep?

Donnie looked at him, a confused look on his face.

"Once you get started on the Red Road, everything will change in your life. Most importantly, how you view yourself and the outside world. There's repercussions for every action we take in this world...and on that road they can be even more severe if you turn away from your ideals or don't honor your commitments. You ready for that?"

"I guess so. I don't really know what to expect."

"Well I can guarantee it won't be anything like Kansas, Dorothy." His Uncle smile at him reassuringly. "If you can feel it, if it's real to you, then you'll take to it like a mare to its foal."

Donnie was already trying to imagine what he'd gotten himself in for.

The next weekend Donnie found himself hauling short sawed logs to what seemed like an endless number of pickup trucks. They had driven for more than two hours into the hills where there were pockets of hardwood spread through the pine. Intermingled with the live timber were a significant number of standing dead trees. Two big Native men in suspenders, holding twenty-eight inch bar Stihl chainsaws, wove their way in and out of the stands of trees to fall red paint marked dry, dead trees. A car with two Native women Donnie didn't recognize brought them sandwiches and macaroni salad for lunch. He never did catch their names but the two other young men helping carry the logs were Petey Fox, Haley's older brother, and Doyle Knife. Neither of them were members of the Society but all were trying to move their way into the ceremonial circle. Labor seemed to be the first step, Donnie thought. He was amazed at the number of trucks they loaded, and the amount that returned for second and even third loads. Donnie imagined that, where ever they were, the pile of logs must look like a mountain of logs.

Joe Small, who had dropped him off that morning and then left, didn't return until the sun was almost setting. He didn't say much on the way back to the ranch until they got to the gate, where he stopped for a moment and said, "Next Saturday, bring a pair of shorts and a towel...and some tobacco. I'll meet you here at the same time".

He didn't offer any explanation, so Donnie got out of the truck wondering what would happen in seven days. All the next week, the coming weekend filled his mind with questions and a fair amount of apprehension.

Saturday came relatively quickly. Joe arrived right on time and drove him to another location on the Rez, far away from the community. A large stream roared beside the road as they gingerly walked across a small rickety-looking wooden bridge and came to a large open area with a sweat lodge near the edge of the river bank.

When Joe had said he was going to "sweat him up" he meant it. It was still dark with only a faint light in the east when they were purified and entered the lodge. Any number of times during the ceremony Donnie thought he was going to die from not being able to breathe in the searing heat. He compared himself to a lobster then pushed the thought away and tried to concentrate on the songs and prayers being offered around him. When it came his turn he felt embarrassed that he didn't know what to say. Finally, in English, he stammered out his gratitude for the Elders and asked a blessing for his Mom and his Auntie and Uncle. As an afterthought, he asked a similar blessing for the People. The sound of the language was soothing and toward the end of the ceremony he began to get more comfortable, even joining in some of the singing. He noticed that the more he concentrated on the ceremony and what was going on inside the lodge the less discomfort he experienced and the stronger he felt.

Eventually the final prayer was made and they circled the lodge interior to exit in single file. Donnie's arms trembled as he moved on hands and knees to the door. He stepped out into the bright sunlight, blinking quickly, his body steaming in the cool morning air. He heard a loud whoop to his left and saw those that had exited before him jogging down a short trail to a small sandy beach alongside the river. The river had widened at this point and the current had slowed considerably. He followed, watching each of the men before him jumping into the cold river. He hesitated only a second, then made the leap himself. As the water closed over his head he was surprised at how deep it was and he struggled to kick his way to the surface again. The freezing water had been a shock at the beginning but now it was almost comfortable. His feet found the mucky bottom and he stepped quickly toward shore.

He walked slowly back to the lodge and stood, eyes closed, reveling in a slight morning breeze and marveling at how great he felt. It was as if all the pressures of life had been sweated out of him and then washed away. He noticed all the others standing still as well, sharing in the wonderful feeling he was experiencing. After a few moments he slowly walked to the tree limb where his towel hung and slowly began drying himself off. Everybody was moving slowly, taking their time and enjoying themselves. There had been silence at first but as time passed low talking and laughter replaced it. Eventually he and Joe climbed into the truck as Joe drove him home.

"That was great."

Joe Small smiled. "Glad you liked it. Three more and you'll be ready for me to put you out."

As opposed to the time before, Joe spent the entire time talking about what Donnie should expect when he went out on the mountain. When they reached the ranch Donnie sat for another twenty minutes asking Joe questions and listening carefully to his answers.

Donnie finished his fourth sweat two weeks before the Renewal. Joe, through his society, formally invited Donnie to witness the Ceremony.

When Donnie told his Auntie about it she took his hand in hers and said, "That's impressive. Even though he is my Cousin, that doesn't have any weight with the Societies. They do what they want. I remember one of my cousins that cut wood for them every year for twenty years and they never invited him. I know he was hurt by that but he never said anything."

"Why wouldn't they recognize his work?"

His Auntie shrugged. "That's just tribal politics. Wrong family, wrong time, pissed somebody off...who knows?"

Donnie sat on the ground looking out over the far landscape. He was way far away from everything, he thought. He started his round of prayers again, looking everywhere, trying to be super attentive to what was happening around him. He checked out the birds, the ants and bugs, the rabbits that rustled in the brush, and the occasional deer nimbly scooting by him moving down the mountain for water. When he was in the middle of his third day he thought about giving up. This was the hardest thing he'd ever done. His hunger was immense but his thirst was almost unbearable. He occupied himself making his prayer rounds, trying to control his mind and focus on his purpose. The hardest thing was keeping his thought from wandering all over the place. He pulled them back from basketball, from the ranch, from Haley, from his Mom and Dad...but still they tried to wander away from the quiet, the isolation, the truth of facing himself. He tried to feel his relationship with all the relatives around him but the idea was still a little foreign to him. He could think it but, as yet, he hadn't been able to feel it. Night came and he shivered every time he emerged from his sleeping bag to journey to the four directions and return to the center.

Joe had made it clear that most Native Nations had their own way of doing these things. He warned him not to expect that their ways could be compared to any other Tribes'. He was wide awake watching a small meteor shower when the morning star rose in the east.

The fourth day his hunger was all but gone, but the thirst remained. He sucked on the small stone he'd found while making his prayer center. Other than the thirst, he was much more comfortable than he had been before. He was kinda spaced out, but in a good way. The day passed quickly and he stayed up until the moon set before he crawled into his blankets.

Donnie woke up with a start. There was something on his foot. Slowly he moved the blanket from over his eyes. Standing on his feet was a large raven. Donnie wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep but he was definitely afraid to move. He didn't want to scare it off, even if it was just a vision. The raven was looking all around. Donnie held his breath as the bird turned toward him and gazed directly into his eyes. The bird moved its beak up and down a few times, then gathered itself and flew up into one of the taller pine trees on the mountain top. Minutes later, Donnie made his final round and closed his circle, gathering up all his pegs and prayer items to wait for Joe Small's arrival. All his discomforts had disappeared. He felt different; more confident in himself, more capable and responsible, more Native.

He heard a slight scraping sound against the rocks below and knew that Joe would soon come into view. A few minutes later Joe was helping Donnie down the mountain. Donnie didn't feel too weak but Joe insisted they go slowly and carefully. When they reached the truck, Joe told him not to speak and drove them to the sweat lodge. The fire was ready and they went into the lodge immediately. A number of elderly men filled the lodge. Donnie noticed there were no young men there speaking english so Donnie didn't know what was being said. Finally Joe asked him to recount everything that he had seen or heard during the four days.

When he got to the crow standing on his feet he noticed the atmosphere inside the lodge change and the men become more attentive. They spoke among themselves for awhile, and then sang a number of songs. When they had finished, a thin, wiry man who was obviously one of the oldest, cleared his throat to speak.

"It is our responsibility to give you your adult name. From now on, your tribal name will be Crow Stands."

Donnie waited but no one said anything else. The rest of the water was poured on the rocks and they left the heat of the lodge for the clensing shock of the river.

A few weeks before school started Donnie went to the Renewal with his sponsor, Joe Small. When they got there Joe showed Donnie where to sit. He made it clear that Donnie was only here as a guest. Donnie watched the men and women closely. At one point he recognized Haley, dressed in simple white buckskin, her face completely painted. The precise movements and actions of the men, their prayer songs and gestures, fascinated Donnie, as did the Pledgers and their supporters.

After the first day of Dancing, there was a feeling of unity and meaning that spilled over into Donnie's heart. His pride in being here, and being "Crow Stands", caused him to straighten his back and pray in the way Joe had taught him. The next three days were very similar to the first but the energy level rose considerably. The number of supporters increased by four or five times and on the last day it seemed like the whole Tribe was there. The entire experience ended too soon for Donnie. A feeling of power and unity coursed through him at the satisfying conclusion of the Ceremony. He stood in line to shake hands with the Dancers and thank them for their sacrifice. After sharing in large slices of watermelon, handed out by the sponsors of the Dancers, Joe came to collect him and he rode back to the ranch in silence, absorbed in his own thoughts. He understood now why so many white people wanted to be around for the gatherings and ceremonials. Most of them had never experienced the feeling of unity of such a large extended family before and it was infectious. But then they didn't have to go back to living impoverished lives on the Rez, full of death and despair to balance with the joy and unity of the Renewal or the PowWow.

He turned to thank Joe when they arrived but the man waved off the attempt at gratitude and said, "You already gave me tobacco and I just did what needed to be done for any one of our People."

"How do you decide who Dances?"

Joe looked surprised.

"Why? You wanna Pledge?"

"I dunno. I guess I should probably watch for another year. Maybe."

"That's up to you. But you should know that anyone can Pledge. You just need to decide before the Fall Equinox."

"How is it done?"

They sat in the truck for another half hour after reaching the ranch with Joe describing the process that had to be followed to Pledge for their Renewal.

"I'll check on you soon to see what you decide," Joe said.

Donnie thanked him again and stood watching Joe pull away. He was thinking about Joe's words..."any one of our People." Finally, Donnie was one of the People.

School started and Donnie tried to fit in. The word had gotten round that he had received his adult name and even attended the Renewal, but that didn't mean a lot to some of the kids. They still saw him as an outsider and weren't afraid to say it to his face. He got called more names in the first two weeks than he had in his entire life. Somehow they didn't bother him as much as he thought they would. He ran into a couple of the boys that had pounded him in the halls at school but they always changed direction when they saw him so he never really confronted them. Jumps had told him that they had been "taken care of", so he supposed they'd leave him alone. Most of the time he walked around with Jumps, who was in many of the same classes he was. Donnie had more than enough high school credits, if he finished his basic classes, to graduate without taking any electives, so he spent a lot of his time in the library or outside on the blacktop courts.

Haley was in a number of his classes as well. Their relationship at school was quite different than he had imagined it would be. He expected to take up where they left off. She set him straight the second day.

"Everybody's watching here. I have to be careful cause I don't want to make my family mad right now."

"Why would they be angry?"

She looked at him crossly. "You know the answer to that. We've talked about this before."

"I thought after the Renewal...I don't know...that they might feel differently."

"You were just a guest though." Haley saw Donnie's crestfallen look and took his hand. "I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea that that would change anything for them. You know how I feel about you."

"What changed?"

"Well, for one, my Mom knew when I left with you at the powwow. She recognized you right away and when you left after me, she knew. She's scary like that sometimes. Anyway, she made it clear that the Tribe was depending on me to be the Lead Maiden in the next Renewal. That means I still have to be a..."

"Virgin?"

Haley laughed. "Yeah, a virgin." She sighed. "I'll probably be the only Native eighteen year old virgin in the U S of A!"

"And you think that's a problem?"

She looked into his eyes directly and said, "If I did with you what we did at the powwow a few more times I don't think I could stand it."

"But you've said before that you only wanted to do it with someone you love."

"I did say that didn't I?"

Donnie waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, an obvious thought came into his mind.

"Does that mean that..?"

"That I love you?" Haley finished his sentence. "I think I do. That's why I have to stay away from being alone with you. I don't trust myself. Plus, despite how I feel, I'm not ready for a lifetime relationship right now. Are you? We're still pretty young."

Donnie bit his tongue. "I guess not. But I miss...what we had."

Haley nudged him playfully, "Come on, we only had it one time and that was mostly kissing!" Her face became serious. "Plus, it would embarrass my family if they heard I was making out with you publicly at school."

Donnie thought that it was obvious that he had made more out of their passionate kissing than she did. Maybe he wasn't the first.

"Donnie?"

"Yeah."

"I do love you", she said softly.

Donnie sighed. "I love you too."

Haley slowly withdrew her hand from his and said, "See you in class."

Football season usually didn't interest Donnie, but since Jumps was the star running back he found himself in the stands at the first Friday night home game. Haley sat with her friends a few rows away. Donnie had to draw on his newly acquired ability to focus his attention elsewhere so he didn't fixate on her. Jumps ran for one hundred and thirty-five yards and the Eagles won by seven. He and Jumps went with other friends to a party afterward but left when it started getting too rowdy and a few of the drunker young men began giving him dark and threatening looks.

One Saturday, a few weeks after school started, he sat down in the kitchen for morning coffee and, after his Uncle had left to start his chores, spoke to his Aunt as she washed dishes.

"Auntie, would you be one of my Sponsors if I pledged to Dance?"

Her hands seemed to stop in mid-air as she twisted her head toward him. Her face had an expression he'd never seen before.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was thinking I might want to do it."

"Don't you think it might be too soon? I mean you've only been to one Renewal and just had your Naming. It would be a big responsibility...for all of us."

"If you don't think I should...." Donnie trailed off, deflated.

"That's not what I said," his Auntie said quickly. "I just want you to be sure. When you begin to take on those kind of commitments you have to be sure. The consequences of not following through, or not honoring your Pledges, can follow you throughout your life, and not for the better. You don't want to fool with Spiritual things until you're ready. Some people never Pledge or get involved in Ceremony because of their fear of what can happen if you fall off the good road." She hurriedly added, "But if you're sure, it would be my honor to be a matron in support of your Pledge. Who's going to be your male sponsor?"

"Actually Joe accepted my offering already. Here is yours." Donnie knelt and brought one hand from behind his back. It contained a small ceramic bowl full of whole Indian corn kernels. He place it between her feet.

His Auntie's look of surprise continued.

"You've really thought about this, huh?"

"Yeah, I have. Something happened to me at the Dance. I think its something I have to do. Something that's been missing from my life."

"That's a lot of "somethings". You're going to need to express it better than that. Maybe you should take a ride out to the cottonwoods and think more about it."

Now it was Donnie's turn to show surprise.

"How...how did you know I go out there?"

"How do you think?" When Donnie shrugged, she continued. "You know your Uncle and I go riding every Sunday. You've practically worn a trail out there to the north pasture. Besides, we used to go there all the time during the hay harvest to cool off."

"I think I've decided already. I need this."

"Okay, I'll contact Joe and we'll begin to prepare. There's a lot to do before next year."

As the football season wore on, it became apparent that though the team was having a better than average season, they wouldn't make the playoffs. At that point the volleyball and basketball players started to prepare themselves for their seasons. Donnie had been going to the Tuesday night inter-mural roundball games. He had played against Haley a couple of times and was even more impressed at her level of play. Her skills were equal to his own. She wasn't quite as fast and couldn't jump as high but she was as deadly as he was from the floor and her ball handling skills were better than any point guard he had ever faced. Jumps was pretty formidable as well. He could dunk the basketball from almost any angle, and his post play was outstanding. Most of the time he and Jumps were on the same team but he never got to play alongside Haley. They had some real battles but every time Donnie tried to hang around to talk, she evaded him.

Before he knew it, basketball season was on him. The first week, as always, was hard on their unused muscles and full of stress. The Redlands Eagles, girls and boys, were perennial favorites in their Conference and, most of the time, the Division. There were a number of State Championship banners hanging against the gymnasium walls and people expected a lot from the teams every year.

Basketball, like fast-pitch and regular softball, were games most Natives identified with long after their playing years. In the east and south, like Oklahoma where his Dad lived, they also had stickball or Lacrosse but Donnie had never even seen a live game. Almost everywhere, Native people loved basketball. They all lived vicariously through the present teams and stars. That only made the competition for open spots even more competitive.

Donnie was vying for one of four open spots in a twelve man roster. Four seniors had graduated, one with All-Conference honors, but none of the four had gone on to play in college. Donnie found out that one was a tweaker, while two were partying and working occasionally at the Casino. The fourth (the All-Conference forward) played with them regularly on Tuesday nights. Donnie knew that Tiny, as everyone called him, was good enough to probably play at a Division Two, if not Division One Collegiate level. He dominated any game he played in and Donnie always learned something new playing both with, and against, him. In one game, he and Donnie had been on the same team. After a sensational assist and feed from Donnie that Tiny slammed through the net hard enough to have broken a thinner glass backboard, Donnie was surprised to see the big man hold up his hand for a high five as they ran back down to set up on D. Later, after the game, Tiny came up to Donnie and said, "Hey Bro, that was a nice pass. What was your name again?"

"Donnie Sands."

"No, I mean your Tribal name."

Donnie had been instructed not to speak his adult name frivolously so he

hemmed and hawed a little before saying it, in a low voice.

"No", Tiny said patiently, "I'm not talking about your formal name. What's your Tribal nickname?"

"I guess I don't have one yet."

Jumps had been standing quietly off to the side.

"We could call him Clorox, or, what did the guys that stomped you say, Latte Boy?"

"Donnie flinched visibly."

"Well, I'm gonna call you Half N Half", said Tiny decisively.

"Actually I'm more than half Indin."

"Too bad", Jumps said happily, "Tiny just named you. Until you get another one we'll call you Half N Half."

"Great." Donnie said doubtfully. "That should make me a lot of friends."

"Listen bro", Jumps said seriously, "Everybody here has a nickname. A lot of the Elders and older people don't, but almost all us young people do. Why do you think people call me Jumps, my parents didn't give me that name?"

Donnie thought quickly, "What's Haley's?"

"She's called Dribs, short for Dribbles."

"Is that because she's such a great ball handler?"

Jumps laughed loudly.

"Nah, its because when she was younger, she couldn't drink anything without dribbling it down her chin."

"Oh".

"Don't sound so disappointed. Most of our names are either funny or embarrassing. Get over it, this isn't Hollywood. By the way, I don't know if I'd call her that to her face."

"I thought you said everybody had them?"

"That's true, but not everybody uses 'em. You'll just have to learn what they are and when to use them. And we don't use them ever in front of outsiders."

"Why not?"

"For the same reason we don't talk about our beliefs or Ceremonies outside the Tribe. Some things are for us. Not everything is to be shared."

Donnie thought about that. It was different. Everyday he seemed to learn something about his People that distinguished them from other ethnic groups, especially mainstream Americans. He was getting used to the differences in school between where he'd come from and here. There, the prized seats were in front. Here, they were in back. There, the teachers called on students to answer. Here, teachers asked first if anybody wanted to contribute and then went on if nobody did.

He'd learned that what had often been a competitive experience in a city classroom was considered disrespectful and rude here. If you transplanted two Redlands students to one of the city classrooms and the teacher asked one of them for an answer, that one might feel compelled to not answer at all, or answer incorrectly so as not to embarrass or show up their relative. Another difference was looking someone directly in the eyes. Most Americans, and particularly city law enforcement, saw someone who didn't look you in the eyes as being disingenuous at best, and a liar at worst. They didn't realize that in many Native communities, meeting someone's gaze was considered unthinkable. The reasons were often different, but a number of completely different peoples shared the value.

Donnie was surprised at how fast his name made the rounds. He heard it everywhere, even from a couple of the Redlands Native teachers. He got used to it quickly and it no longer bothered him when he heard it. It was another step toward becoming a fully accepted member of the People. He knew there were still those that resented him but he knew those people might never accept him, no matter what he did.

Donnie made one of the available spots on the team and they began to prepare for the First of December Tournament held at Lincoln High in Lincoln, about forty minutes from Redlands.

The Redlands boys basketball coach, Phil Jacobson, knew he had a good team. In his eighteen years coaching basketball he thought this might be his best team yet, maybe even better than his State Championship team. This new kid, Sands, brought something to the team he'd been praying for. He had another solid guard in Mark Mason and two forwards, Billie Banks and Ahmet Jackson, that were tall enough to post up yet fast enough to play man-to-man D. Then there was the tallest boy, Larry Edge, the boy the kids called Jumps. This boy could hold down the center, post up anywhere in the key, shoot from outside, rebound, and play tough defense. He was the rock that Jacobson planned to build the team around.

They started with running, spending a lot of time conditioning. Since Jacobson was also the Physical Ed teacher, he had all the boys running most of the fifty minutes in his class, five days a week. Coupled with practices, the boys got into playing condition quickly. Next they worked on fast-breaks in all situations...from inbounds to rebounds. Once they got their lanes down perfectly, and the outlet players knew where to expect the ball, they worked on blocking out on the rebound and outletting the ball as fast as possible. Next they worked on perfecting the first pass from the outlet, with the option of a second pass in the lane and the trailer. They ran it as a shell drill for the first couple of days then added in defense a little at a time. First they added an offensive rebounding group to hassle the rebound and try and prevent the outlet pass. Then they worked on trapping the outlet pass before it was made. Then they had the fastest defensive player position himself about fifteen feet behind the player taking the pass from the outlet. The goal was to force the player that would receive the ball to hustle up court, make a clean reception of the pass and drive toward the basket. The defensive player was to take a line that would bring him to a spot where he could challenger the player driving in, forcing him to make a pass off to the offensive player coming in from the opposite outside lane. They practiced three-on-twos, four-on-threes and one-on-one defensive drills.

On the third day they started working on full court and half court traps as well as trap breaks. They finished the week perfecting their presses, traps, and fast breaks, so they would be ready to use them as soon as the season started.

The beginning days of the next week were spent working on fundamentals for at least a third of each practice. For the other two thirds they devoted themselves to the various offenses they might run and and specialty defenses like the triangle-and-two and the box-and-one.

On Thursday, the Coach called them together to announce the starting lineup consisting of the boys he had originally expected to lead the team. There had been only one surprise, a medium-sized boy named Louis Rivera. Rivera had an amazing vertical leap and was deceptively fast. He also had a great three point shot and was solid at the free throw line. The Coach told the team that Louis would get a significant amount of playing time for evaluation at the Mid-December Tournament. They spent the rest of the practice running various offenses against their pressure man-to-man defense.

Donnie hadn't even had a chance to look in on the girl's team practices. They had to be scheduled in with the JV practices and their schedules never matched up. He knew that once the season started, their games would be on different days so he'd get to see their home games at least. Unfortunately when the boys were at home, the girls played away, so he'd miss half the games completely unless he could get a ride and not too many of his friends had wheels or gas money.

Donnie and Haley had only said a few words to each other since their last conversation, other than trash talk at the games on Tuesdays, but he caught her staring at him numerous times when she didn't think he was looking. Since his eyes hardly left her if she was in visual range, that turned out to be more than often. Donnie thought it might be amusing if he didn't feel so hurt. He believed that they could have a normal high school type of relationship, without the physical part. Haley obviously thought differently. Maybe it was because of her family, as she said or maybe it was because so many Native youth matured so young, were treated as adults earlier than non-Native kids, and allowed to experiment fairly freely. Unfortunately the result was a lot of early unwanted pregnancies. Donnie knew that he couldn't generalize about different Tribes and different Reservations but he knew from some of the kids he went to school with, that had lived other places, that there were a lot of the same problems where they came from as well.

The Lady Eagles tournament games started three days earlier than the boys. Donnie wanted to go but couldn't get away from his chores. On the last day of the tournament, with the Ladies in the championship game, Donnie talked his Uncle into calling Teddy in to help with the chores. Jumps borrowed his Uncle's old and hardly ever driven Ford Bronco which they loaded up with students to made the trip to Lincoln to watch the Eagles play the Sanderson Broncos.

By the time they got there the first period was already gone. It was a very low-scoring game by high school standards, with the scoreboard showing the Broncos ahead twelve to eight. Donnie looked at the scoreboard as they found the area in the stands where the Eagles parents and supporters sat.

"What's going on?", Jumps asked.

"The coach started all the players that don't usually get to play and kep them in all the way."

The whistle blew to call the players out onto the court for the second period. Donnie watched Haley stretch, then put her fingers to her mouth and rub the moisture on the bottoms of her shoes for traction. He knew this was part of her routine to get ready. He had one too. All the players did.

It was the Eagles possession and Cindy Carvel, the Eagles six foot two center, took the ball out of bounds from the official and tossed it in to Haley. The Broncos showed a half court trap before Haley even got the ball into the forecourt. Haley turned into a crab dribble as two players charged to trap her. Keeping the ball close to the hardwood, she exploded forward under their defense and drove between them effortlessly, dribbling at a height of about six inches. She looked for a dish before driving to the top of the lane and burying a fifteen foot jump shot. It was a harbinger of what was yet to come.

Haley dominated the game to such an extent that it seemed sometimes she was on the court by herself. It was strange because she had more assists by half-time than points. Her all-around play was so strong she seemed to be everywhere on the court at once. The game ended with the Eagles up by twenty-five and that was with Haley and the first string sitting most of the fourth quarter. She was named All-Tournament and Most Valuable Player as the Tournament Trophy went around the entire team as they celebrated. Donnie tried to catch her as she left the court to go to the locker room but there was a jam of people trying to get down the bleachers ahead of him and he didn't make it. He was depressed most of the way home.

The Eagle's boys team loaded their gear onto the bus at about three PM on the next day. Their tournament was scheduled from Thursday through Saturday. Their first game was against the Cardinals of Loveland High. The Cardinals had made it to the State Quarter Finals the year before, so Coach Jacobson thought it might be a good early test for the team. The Eagles had an almost impenetrable zone which they changed often.

In the locker room before the game, the coach called the team together to lay out their pre-game strategy.

"So you boys know what to do, right? We have to have baseline movement from our forwards. Cross sides, pop out, take three's from the corner...all of the above. Around the key we have to swing the ball quickly with sharp passes from side to side to get their zone either out of position or leaning the wrong way. When you see them overload one side then you know they're vulnerable on the other. Look across for the skip pass and be ready to take the shot. On any skip pass we make I expect the off-side players to crash the boards hard for the put-back. If they begin to fast break on us we'll change up. Any questions? Put it here."

The team crowded in around him and began to pump themselves up. Jumps was the leader so he was the one making the most noise but all the players joined in enthusiastically, including Donnie.

It was a tough game for the Eagles. Despite the week's preparations, the starters seemed out of sinc and their defense was often a step behind the Cardinals on screens and pre-set three point plays. They trailed the Cardinals by six at the half. Coach Jacobson made some adjustments including substituting Louis for Billie Banks. Billie had had a touch of the flu and the Coach noticed he seemed a little less focused and aggressive than usual.

The change seemed to be the spark the Eagles needed as they went on a thirteen to two run at the beginning of the third period. The Eagle's pressure defense and half court traps caused the Cardinals to turn the ball over on three consecutive possessions toward the end of the quarter but the Eagles weren't able to convert the mistakes into points, missing three good shots including a rare miss by Jumps on an easy layup.

The fourth period began with Louis splitting the net with a long three from the baseline and it was cruise control all the way for the Eagles after that. The game ended with the Eagles up by five. The bus ride back was somewhat subdued as the coach had spent most of the after-game meeting pointing out their deficiencies on the court and downplaying the win. Most of the players sat eating, dozing, or looking out the window, alone with their thoughts. Donnie spent a little time thinking about his game performance, which he rated as so-so, but a when a car full of cheerleaders passed the bus on the highway his thoughts turned to Haley. He spent the rest of the trip daydreaming about her being his girlfriend...openly.

Once again, the season passed quickly. It seemed like they had just met for the first practice and here they were almost at the end, Donnie mused. The team had only lost three games; one when three of the starters were down sick, another when Louis had to miss a game to attend a funeral, and another when Jumps went out with a sprained ankle.

The girls were undefeated. Haley was tearing up the league, averaging eighteen points a game with ten or more assists. Collegiate scouts started showing up to their games in mid-January as her accomplishments began to attract more and more attention. She made the list of top twenty high school players in the country and everyone knew she would be heavily recruited by a Division One team.

The last week of the regular season was homecoming for the Eagles. That meant that both boys and girls Varsity and JV teams would play all four of their games on a Thursday night in front of their home crowd. A win by the Lady Eagles would cap an undefeated season, while the boys needed the win to lock up the Conference Championship and guarantee them a top-seed in post season play.

Donnie sat on the top row of the bleachers alone, watching the JV boys warm up for their game. The JV girls had lost, being beaten by a wild shot at the buzzer and dampening the enthusiasm of the small early crowd. Some of the Sweetwater Mustang varsity boys were arriving a few at a time, carrying their big sports bags and establishing a place for their supporters and team to sit until their game. The Mustang Varsity girls were already there and in their locker room early. Donnie had seen most of the Varsity Eagle girls come and go, some of them helping with the homecoming decorations, but he hadn't seen Haley come in yet.

He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds around him. He focused on the sound of the balls being dribbled on the hardwood. It was comforting and Donnie felt relaxed and ready. He was only aware of a presence beside him when he felt a slight touch on the side of his leg. He opened his eyes and was surprised to find Haley sitting beside him, staring out at the court as the buzzer to begin sounded and the teams gathered at their respective benches for last minute instructions. He started to say something, but stopped himself and waited for her. When she didn't appear to be in talking mood, he turned his face to the court to watch the tipoff of the game starting on the floor. The boys got off to a fast start and scored twice in the first minute on steals and breakaways. Donnie's interest in the game waned quickly as he became more and more aware of Natalie. Her perfume wafted over him and the warmth of her thigh against his caused his pulse to quicken. He stared at her for a long moment and she responded by turning toward him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you Pledged to Dance next year?"

"How did you find out?"

"Well Duh! My Dad's Vice-Chairman and he's also in the same Society as Joe Small. I heard my Dad talking about it with my Mom."

"What did he say?"

"He was surprised. Everyone is. It seems like you moved here yesterday, and even though you're one of us by blood, a lot of people on the Rez don't approve of members moving back and getting too involved in Tribal business. At least until they've lived here for awhile."

"Is your family one of those?"

"No. My Dad may seem like a hard-ass but he's really a caring person with a big heart. I think he was even a little impressed with your moving so fast. I heard him tell my Mom you had cojones the size of grapefruits!"

"Now there's a pretty image," Donnie said grimly.

Haley nudged him in the side with her elbow.

"Don't get too serious on me, Sands. I think you've really turned heads around here, and not just because you can shoot a basketball. People are impressed with you bravado and your heart. Everyone's talking about it."

"I...I didn't think it was such a big deal."

"Are you kidding? We haven't had this much to gossip about for a long time." She met his eyes with her own. "You know what I said before...about us not being a good idea?"

Donnie held his breath, wondering what she was going to say next.

"I think maybe I was wrong." She held a hand up to his face. "Now wait for me to finish."

Donnie shut his mouth abruptly.

"To tell the truth, I was more afraid of what my family and my Dad would say, than how I felt. I was also afraid of how strong my feelings were for you after knowing you for so short a time. But this...this changes everything."

"Why? I'm the same guy I was then."

"No, no you're not. You weren't Crow Stands then." She put her finger to her lips. "Pretend I didn't say that, I'm not supposed to know that and I'm sure as hell not supposed to say it out loud. But I need you to know what your Pledge means. To all of us. The Renewal is the most important and Sacred Ceremony we have. You're not the same as you were. And now as a Pledger, you have everyone's respect and support to help you prepare for next year."

"So what's this have to do with us?"

Haley took a deep breath.

"I've decided that you're gonna be my boyfriend." She reached into her jean pocket and pulled out a roll of soft white buckskin. "I tanned this myself and the wristlet inside is made of cloth from my dance shawl. All the girls will know you're mine when you wear it." She unrolled the buckskin, took out the colored clothe braid, then untied the one she had made for him previously and replaced it with the new one. "There, now you belong to me. I have to still be discreet and not too visible with my affection for you but I don't have to hide it anymore. I told my Mom about us and she said she'd talk to my Dad if he freaks out again the first time he sees us holding hands or, you know, kissing. Speaking of which, I have to go."

She leaned down and kissed him full on the lips, just teasing with the tip of her tongue. Then she straightened and bounced down the bleachers to give him a quick wave before she disappeared into the girl's locker room.

Donnie only got to see the first half of Haley's game, but she was as over-powering as she always was. She made some incredible driving behind-the-back passes that ended up as assists. She also got a huge roar of applause from the crowd when she took the inbounds pass during a full court press and drove the length of the court by herself. She put on a clinic for the opposing team in dribbling, using all her ball-handling skills to reach the paint, finishing by rolling the ball behind her back to her left hand while she was in the air and laying the ball up left-handed to beat the last defender. Donnie went into the locker room with the Lady Eagles up by twelve.

He sat on the narrow bench lacing up his court shoes, thinking about what had happened in the last half-hour. He couldn't get used to the idea that Haley had actually chosen him to be her boyfriend. The taste of her strawberry lip balm remained on his lips, as did the feeling of her mouth on his. He wasn't feeling particularly elated like he thought he would, but he had a game to play and he couldn't be thinking about Haley right now. He forced his mind to focus on his ritual of visualization as he prepared himself for the upcoming game.

Coach Jacobson had decided to toy with a new defense for this particular game. It made him nervous to change what had been a winning formula most of the season but the Mustangs weren't a balanced team. They had two outstanding athletes, capable of doing almost anything on the court, with three supporting players that played decent defense but didn't contribute much on offense. The Mustangs had had a mediocre season so far, but knocking off the defending champion Eagles would be a great way for them to end their season.

On the last day of practice, which had actually been three days earlier on Monday, the coach had laid out his plan. They would play a triangle and two with Donnie and Louis taking the Mustang stars and Jumps taking the top of the triangle at the free-throw line.

"If their supporting cast beats us, then you can blame me for this one," he told the team. "But if we shut down their two scorers, I don't think they've got a chance."

The Coach's plan turned out to be the perfect design to frustrate and defeat the Mustangs. Donnie and Louis denied every pass to their two stars, matching them step for step all over the court. Their coach tried to counter with some double screens to get them open but the Eagles, with an experienced man defense, effectively got through the screens underneath and stopped them cold. He then tried to get his other three players involved around the key but Jumps, Mark, and Ahmet shut them down inside.

By the middle of the second period it was obvious that the Eagles were going to rout the Mustangs. Coach Jacobson pulled the Eagle starters in the middle of third period and, even then, the second string Eagles played well. The Mustang scorers started getting the shots they wanted and gradually the Eagle lead shrunk down to seventeen. The crowd wasn't happy at all in the fourth period when consecutive threes brought the Mustangs within ten with several minutes yet to go. Jacobson bowed to the nervousness of the crowd and put Donnie and the starters back in. The Mustangs didn't score again, while Donnie, Jumps. and Louis added another ten to their lead. A full minute was left when the coach pulled his starters again, but this time the crowd knew the game was over and they rose to give the Eagles first five a standing ovation.

When the horn sounded, Donnie took his time gathering up his bag and water bottle. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned quickly expecting to get a high five from one of his teammates or fans. Haley hugged him unexpectedly, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Take me to the dance tonight?" she asked, her eyes glistening.

"Uh, what do we have to wear?"

"Just clothes, silly. It's not as if it's the Prom."

Donnie was relieved and concerned at the same time.

"I've never been to a school dance before."

"No big deal. They've got a DJ and mostly we just talk anyway. Most of the boys can't, or won't, dance. It's like some kind of sickness. Indins that don't dance...its just ridiculous." She saw the look on his face. "Don't worry, I won't make you dance if you don't want to."

Donnie relaxed.

"Okay, should I meet you here or what?"

"I'll come out and pick you up. I talked to my Mom a few minutes ago and she's gonna let me drive her car."

Donnie felt embarrassed that, even though he had his license, she would be driving him. He figured he'd better find some sort of work soon or she'd be driving him everywhere and he'd never hear the end of it from his friends.

"Okay, what time?"

"I'll pick you up at eight. I've gotta be home by eleven. My Dad will be standing by the door to make sure I'm on time."

Uncle Frank drove him home from the game. It was the first time he'd seen Donnie play and he went on and on about how good Donnie was. It was kind of embarrassing, Donnie thought. He happened to mention the dance on their way home and caught his Uncle giving him a furtive sideways glance when he said it, but otherwise Uncle Frank remained silent.

The dance wasn't really a dance at all, Donnie mused. A few girls were dancing with each other, and there were two couples that had danced almost every dance. At the beginning of each new song Donnie saw Haley glance at him then return to her conversations as they made their way from group to group. They'd been holding hands since they walked in the door. Finally, the DJ played a slow song and Donnie decided to make the plunge.

"You wanna dance?" he said simply.

He could see Haley trying to hide her surprise and happiness.

"I hoped you'd ask."

Holding her tight to him Donnie wished he had asked her to dance every slow song that night. Her curves pressed against him and her breath was in his ear as she laid her head on his shoulder. They were hardly moving at all, just shifting from foot to foot. Donnie was so absorbed in holding her he didn't notice when the music stopped. Haley stepped back and he realized it was over. She was smiling shyly. They danced four more times before the night was over. They didn't talk much when she drove him home but he wasn't prepared for her stopping the car just after they entered the Ranch gate, pulling off to the side and turning off the engine.

She had a sly expression on her face as she slid toward him on the seat.

"Wanna make out?"

Donnie almost choked on his saliva in amazement, then recovered and said, "That's kinda forward. I don't know if I'm that type of guy?"

She nuzzled her lips against his ear.

"Every guy is that kind of guy."

Donnie turned his body toward hers and kissed her gently.

"I'm not every guy," he said, drawing back slightly.

"You're not kidding...I don't fall for just every guy."

They didn't speak after that, only separating long enough to catch their breath. Haley allowed him to explore her body to a point but he knew when he was crossing the line because she would stiffen slightly. It was the first time he had ever been this intimate with a girl. Her skin was soft and smooth and she moaned softly as he moved his hands. After about fifteen minutes she pulled away and straightened her clothes.

"I think that's enough for tonight, Romeo. I've never let a boy touch me like that before. I need to be careful we don't get too carried away."

"You can trust me Haley, I won't do anything to hurt you."

"It's myself I don't trust", she sighed. "I've been hearing about makin' it since I was in the seventh grade and my best friend Millie raved about how good it feels. But I always knew I wanted to wait especially when she got pregnant at fourteen and had to drop out of school. Then her boyfriend beat her up all the time, got her into crank, and we stopped talking."

"We know better Haley. We won't make that mistake."

She gave him a serious look.

"I wonder how many kids our age have said that and ended up being parents?"

"Not us. We've both got plans for the future, I know. I wouldn't jeopardize that. Besides, I'm scared of your Dad!"

The seriousness left her and the gleam was back in her eye.

"You've got a right to be scared."

Donnie couldn't tell if she was kidding or not.

The President's Day holiday came and went. The JV teams had finished their seasons and the Varsity teams were getting ready for the Post Season. Both teams had been seeded first in the Conference and both had made it to the finals easily. Donnie had his best game since joining the team in the Conference Final, going twelve for fourteen from the floor, five of six from the line, and adding eight assists. Haley turned her ankle slightly in the first quarter in the girl's Final and her coach sat her the rest of the game. It was a nail-biter through the first three periods as the Lady Eagles struggled to put themselves back together without her, but they got it together in the fourth period and went on to win by four.

They only had a few days to celebrate before Regionals began. Both the boys and girls teams had been seeded fourth, ignoring their Conference records. The Coaches came back from the seeding meeting furious at the officials who thought that school size was an indication of ability, considering only what they perceived as the difficulty levels of opponents faced.

Being fourth seed meant that both teams would face the fifth seed, a tough opponent for each squad. The boys faced an extremely tall Orland team while the girls were facing last year's State Champion, Rio Linda. The games were to be played in Orland, a city much like Midlands, and a two hour drive from Redlands.

They left early with both teams riding the same bus. Donnie and Haley sat together for most of the trip with his arm around her shoulder and her head on his. They dozed for most of the second hour and woke up groggily when the traffic increased at the city limits and they slowed down to a crawl. They took the off-ramp toward what was obviously a large school with perfectly groomed landscaping and clean parking lots that were currently packed with the vehicles of basketball fans.

The gymnasium stood separate and away from the other campus buildings. The bus pulled up in front and the Coaches went to find someone to direct them to the right locker room. In the meantime, the team retrieved all their bags and game equipment, leaving only pillows and blankets on the bus, and walked into the gym. It was huge. The girls coach hurried up to Haley and the rest of her team, herding them toward a faraway door that Donnie knew must lead to their locker room.

"Check this place out", Jumps said in admiration. "Think what it would be like to play here with the stands full."

They stood looking around in amazement as the Rio Linda girls warmed up in front of them. After watching for a few moments Donnie concluded that Haley's team would face a real challenge. Rio Linda had some big athletic girls inside and they all seemed to shoot well. Jumps took the initiative to lead the boys to a spot high above the floor against the wall behind the scorers table. There they tossed their bags together in a heap and went to find the snack bar or the bathroom. Donnie stayed by himself, leaning against the wall and surveying the gym. It was bigger than any gym he'd ever played in. He thought it might seat four or five thousand. Donnie had played in front of some pretty large crowds in Midlands but nothing like this. If this place fills up, Donnie thought, its gonna be wild.

The game started out well for the Lady Eagles. They shot a fairly high percentage from the floor during the first quarter, which was good because they weren't getting any rebounds at all. Despite the coaches pleading for them to block out, the two Rio Linda posts were awesome inside. If it wasn't for Natalie's three at the end of the period, the game would have been tied.

The second period was a disaster. Each time the Eagles missed a shot, Rio Linda seemed to take the rebound and turn it into points. Even though Haley was still in control and the offense was still executing well, her teammates shot choices seemed to get worse. Not only did this result in less points on the board, it also took away their offensive rebounding advantage because their players could no longer predict when a teammate would shoot, resulting in them being out of rebounding position. With Rio Linda dominating both boards, the Eagles started to look like they couldn't come back from the eleven point deficit at the half.

Donnie didn't even give the cheerleaders a passing glance as they bounced through their halftime routines. He was concerned about the Lady Eagles. He hoped their coach would come up with a plan for the second half or they were done for. As the girls came out to warm up for the second half, the boys gathered up their bags and headed for their locker room. As he passed Haley, she gave him a thumbs up, though her body language seemed to look less confident. He stopped and waved her over. She looked around for a moment as if she didn't know if she should talk to him or not, then trotted to where he stood. He stood close to her, his face just inches from hers.

"You're one of the best players I've ever seen, bar none. Go out there and show these people what a Redlands Skin can do!"

She smiled gratefully and ran back out on the court calling to her teammates. As Donnie passed through the locker room door he saw them gathered around her, but she was the one doing all the talking.

As the boys had their ankles taped and got themselves ready to play, one of the assistant coaches kept them appraised of what was happening on the court.

"Haley came out on fire! She's got their point guard coming up tentatively and has three breakaways steals already."

A few minutes later he reported, "The girls are only four points down!"

They heard the buzzer to sound the end of the third period and he burst in again.

"Haley just hit two threes in a row. We're up by one!"

At that point the coaches knew the boys were thinking more about the girls game than their own so they grudgingly let them return to the gym where they stood by the end of the bleachers watching intently.

Donnie saw the girl's coach call Haley over to the sideline for just a moment. He could tell from the look of resolve on Haley's face what she'd been told. He'd been told the same thing a number of times, both for the Midlands JV and Varsity teams. He turned to Jumps.

"Watch this. The coach just told Haley to take over the game and win it."

"How do you know?" Jumps look skeptical.

"Just watch."

From the moment the whistle blew to start the fourth period everyone could see the difference in Haley. She was in all-over-the-court mode; making a steal here, getting a jump ball there, knocking a pass away, forcing a hurried shot to beat the shot clock. She even challenged the big girls playing in the paint, waiting for them to make the mistake of bringing the ball down to their waist after a rebound where her quick hands could rip it out or tie them up. It was obvious they were getting frustrated by the number of stupid fouls they made trying to rush their play to get back the momentum and the lead. The Eagles made them pay at the line and by mid-quarter the Eagles had an comfortable eight point lead.

When they came out again the other coach had obviously made changes, double-teaming Haley and playing a box with their big girls. Neither team could buy a bucket for a couple of minutes but the ice was finally broken by one of their big girls actually dunking a rebound. The boys mouths dropped open. They had never seen a girl dunk before. It seemed for a moment like the momentum had changed but the Eagles went into their full court press and Haley immediately stole the inbounds pass to match the Rio Linda score. The press did the trick, slowing down the game so that Rio Linda ended up with at least two or three fewer possessions than they might have had against a regular half-court defense. Those possessions were the difference in the game and the Eagles won by six.

Donnie felt drained, like he'd already played a half. He thought that was a bad sign and spent the warm-up pushing himself to move a little faster than usual in their layup and shooting drills. By the time the horn sounded, he was ready.

The Orland game started out like the girls game with the taller Timberwolf boys controlling the boards and keeping the Eagle offense from posting up in the lane. Coach Jacobson put the Eagles in a five out offensive set and Jumps made the Timberwolves pay right away by nailing a three from the corner. Jacobson also put them in their full court press and told them to run the taller Orland team to death. The Orland team's height didn't help them against the Eagles. Four of the five Eagle starters were high percentage shooters from the field and their quickness and recovery speed was so good the press gave the Timberwolves fits. The Eagles didn't exactly rout the Timberwolves but they dominated them just enough that the TWolves became tentative and abandoned their inside strength to try and catch the Eagles with outside shooting. It was a fatal mistake. The Eagles went into their three point game as they kept the ball away from the big boys inside and whisked the ball from side to side until somebody got a clear look at the basket and lofted a shot from behind the line. They only shot about fifty percent but that was enough to crush the TWolves in the final period. The subs played the last three minutes as the Eagles rolled to a fifty-five to forty-four victory.

The ride back on the bus was lonely for Donnie. Most of the boys and girls had relatives attend the games and drive them home. Haley's Dad and Mom were there. Donnie wondered how long they'd been there and if they'd seen them together. Only Jumps, Louis, and the coaches rode the bus with him, all of them grouped in the front seats of the bus. There wasn't much talking among the boys, and the coaches just talked about their hunting and fishing plans for the Easter weekend. Donnie got home past mid-night and fell into bed. He dreamed of soft curves and warm kisses.

Both of the Eagle teams defied the know-it-alls that seeded the tournament by winning their respective Regional Final. From here they would go directly to the Division One State Semi-Finals. Again the games were hosted by Orland, so the ride was more familiar this time and everybody tried to rest or sleep on the way there. Donnie and Haley sat in separate seats across from each other, each deep in their own thoughts.

Both the boys and girls coaches had been notified that a number of big-time collegiate scouts would be coming to see Haley again, as well as Jumps and Donnie. Donnie hadn't given much thought to where he might play in the future until the Coach had called him into his office before the Conference Finals and talked to him about some of his options. Donnie intended to go to college but as far as he knew no scouts had come to watch him like they had Haley and Jumps so he never considered a scholarship. His grades were good but not excellent and he hadn't participated in any of the extra-curricular programs that would accentuate his record for consideration.

Jumps was nervous. "I hope I don't screw up big-time."

"Don't worry bro, you're always awesome.

If they thought the crowd had been large before, this time it was immense. When the girls took the court the roar was deafening. Donnie felt the familiar butterflies start fluttering in his stomach. He sat with his teammates in their now regular spot, high above everyone else, and tried to calm himself. It's pretty early to get nervous, Donnie thought. Below him, on the floor, Haley was holding a clinic in how to play all-around, take-no-prisoners basketball.

The girls were ahead by nine when the boys went in their locker room to get ready. Every time something happened out on the floor the roar from the crowd penetrated the locker room. Once again one of the girls assistant coaches kept them informed. It seemed for awhile that all he could say was Haley this, and Haley that.

The last time he poked his head in he said, "The girls are up by eight with two minutes to go. Both teams have been pressing all quarter and its getting wild out there."

Coach Jacobson relented and again let them out of the locker room to crowd together at the end of the bleachers for the last minute. They got out there just in time to see Haley take a charge in the lane and get knocked backward hard. Donnie held his breath as she was slow getting up but let out a sigh of relief when she waved to the crowd and limped down to the other end to shoot a one and one on the bonus eighth team foul by their opponent. Both of her shots split the net cleanly, putting the finishing touch on their win.

The final horn sounded and the realization that they had made the State Championship Final started to register on the girls. They jumped up and down, shouting, cheering, and hugging one another. Coach Jacobson yelled at them to get moving as the boys had to run their lap around the court inside all the fans, parents, and players that crowded around both of the girls benches. After their lap, they picked up their bags and pushed through the throngs of people to drop them behind the bench where the girls were just picking theirs up. Donnie looked for Haley to congratulate her but when he finally saw her she was standing with her Dad and a tall guy who appeared to be speaking earnestly, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke. He must be a scout, Donnie thought, as he ran out on the court for warm-ups.

The boys game was wild, fast, and rough. It was obvious from the beginning that the officials were going to let them play and the Coach told them in no uncertain terms that they would have to be tough and physical to win it. He wasn't kidding.

The teams were evenly matched and the only time one or the other gained an advantage was when someone made a mistake. A couple of times, the Eagles got caught on double screens that resulted in easy points for the Cullen High Cougars and similarly the Cougars left Louis and Donnie alone at the line where they buried consecutive threes. After that, the lead see-sawed back and forth with neither team gaining an advantage. The Eagles abandoned their press when they discovered that the Cougars were well prepared for it, reversing the ball and then advancing, then reversing and advancing until they crossed into the forecourt. The half ended with the Cougars ahead by a single point.

The third quarter was a nightmare for the Eagles. They went stone cold from the floor. Donnie had been focusing more on assists than scoring, trying to get the ball inside to Jumps to force the Cougars to tighten around the lane. Unfortunately the cold streak seemed to carry over to Jumps as two beautiful setups from Donnie went to waste as Jumps' shots rolled off the rim into Cougar hands.

By the time the fourth period started, the Cougars were up by seven. None of the Eagles were panicking, yet, but Donnie could feel the tension and see it in the faces of his teammates. The Cougars tried to slow the game down as much as possible causing the Eagles to press again with mixed results. At first the Eagles gained on the scoreboard with a couple of steals, then the Cougars settled into their press break and even showed a fast break off the press that the Eagles were unprepared for. They lost the advantage they had so tenuously gained and once again found themselves down by seven. As Donnie dribbled the ball down the floor, being careful to protect it from the prying hands of his defender, he saw a lane to the basket and exploded past his man and into the key, driving through two of the moving defenders to the basket. His shot rolled around the rim once and dropped through as the officials whistle blew, indicating a foul. But Donnie never heard it. As he had released the ball, one of the Cougars rammed him, knocking him sideways. Donnie tried to get control of his body but he was totally out of control. He tried to roll himself into a ball but landed upside down on his neck before he could do it. Stars exploded in his head and darkness settled over his eyes. He vaguely heard someone yelling over him but the warm dark closed over him again and he passed out.

He came to with two paramedics firmly supporting his neck as he was lifted onto a stretcher. He wiggled his toes and fingers and tentatively moved his head.

"Don't move!" said a voice.

Donnie ignored it and sat up. The medics tried to push him back down but he ignored everybody yelling at him and rolled to his side, got to his hands and knees and then stood up. He wavered and Jumps was beside him, supporting him with his tree-trunk arms. The crowd roared and applause washed over him as the medics gave up and gathered their equipment to make a quick retreat to their place near the gym entrance. He tested his legs and though they felt a little rubbery, with Jumps help, he made it to the bench. His neck and the back of his head started to hurt and he had to lie down on the bench as his teammates made room for him.

The game continued without him, but the Eagles were only a shadow of what they'd been. It wasn't that they didn't have the talent, even without Donnie, to make it a game...they seemed to lose their drive and momentum. The Cougars slowed the game down even more taking every second of their thirty seconds to make a shot. The Eagles made a short run at two minutes but they could only get within three. A frantic reaching foul with three seconds to go gave the Cougars the ball out of bounds at half-court. The Cougars bench and fans were going crazy. Donnie tried to grasp what was going on but he was still feeling confused and groggy. The Cougar guard made a big show of looking for a teammate then lofted the ball into the backcourt where it bounced harmlessly toward the Eagles basket as the clock ran out. The Eagle players shuffled off the court, waited quietly to go through the line "good gaming" the Cougar players and coaches. They didn't have much time to assimilate the loss before another team began crowding in on their bench waiting for the Eagle players to pick up their bags and bottles so they could get ready for the next game.

The Eagles had a short depressing meeting in the locker room before dispersing into the night. The bus driver had a lonely ride home as everyone else, including Jumps and Donnie, had rides home. Auntie Lil and Uncle Frank had driven up for the game. His Aunt hovered over him all the way to the car, trying to determine how badly he was hurt. He heard her tell his Uncle that they needed to take him to the hospital the next day to check for concussion. Sports medicine had come a long way and the dangers of concussions were now well documented. Despite his Aunt's exhortations for him to stay awake, he slept the whole way home. He didn't dream.

Donnie was sore for most of the weekend. On Sunday afternoon the phone rang and after a few minutes of talking he heard his Aunt call to his Uncle. Donnie was watching a college game on TV. His Uncle came into the room and sat down across from him.

"You're gonna have a visitor later."

Donnie looked confused.

"There's a recruiter from Arizona that wants to talk with you.

The Arizona recruiter, Bud Jenkins, offered Donnie a full ride scholarship to play for the Wildcats. Donnie didn't know what to think. He didn't like the way the man was so pushy about him committing right away. His Uncle seemed to have the same feeling and they sent him on his way with a "we''ll think about it." Later on, in his room, Donnie fired up his laptop and did a bunch of searches on the U of A Wildcats. They were contenders in this year's PAC 12 and were a Division IA team. Donnie was surprised they were interested in him at all after that last game. He went to school on Monday where the major buzz was about the State Final Girls game scheduled for the next evening in Orland. He sought out Haley after class and they spent a few quiet minutes together in the hall, but she was obviously preoccupied with getting herself ready for the game. He left her alone to prepare and went about the day grieving for his own team's loss.

The Orland gym was at its full capacity for the boys and girls State Finals. The girls team rode up in their parents cars. Donnie's Aunt loaned him her car to haul Jumps and a few other players from the boys team, like Mark and Louis, to the game.

The preliminary ceremonies and introductions were long and boring. A number of local dignitaries had to be recognized, including the Principal of Redlands High and the School Board President.

Donnie was surprised to find that he was nervous. If he was nervous and he wasn't playing, how was Haley doing? He could only imagine. Their coach had kept them in the locker room after the introductions while the other team had been warming up and there were only ten minutes left on the clock until the tip off, when the Lady Eagles ran out for their lap around the gym floor and their abbreviated warm-up drills. Donnie was interested that their coach had bypassed the traditional passing and layup drills to focus on their three-on-two, four-on-three defense and blockout drills. He didn't know anything about the other team, the Lady Grizzlies, so he watched them closely as they warmed up. They were calm and confident. It was evident that they were experienced in these kinds of pressure situations, having been here each of the last three years. They also were huge. Donnie had never seen a girls team this big. The smallest guard had to be five-ten, he thought, and she was the smallest on the team! Two of the posts were listed at six-four and the other two players at six-two and six feet respectively.

"No wonder she's practicing block out drills", Donnie said out loud to no one in particular.

"I've never seen girls so big except in the pros", Jumps said wistfully.

The buzzer sounded and Haley, as team captain, went out to meet with the Grizzly captain at center court. She trotted back to her teammates and they all huddled together to perform their ritual cheer to begin the game.

"Go-ooo Eagles!"

The teams lined up on the court and the disparity in height was immediately apparent. Some of the Grizzlies towered over the smaller Eagles. Donnie saw Jumps shake his head.

"Yeah", Donnie said to him, "this could get ugly."

Despite their lack of size the smaller Eagles ran rings around the Grizzlies. They shot a fiery sixty percent from the floor, while the Grizzlies struggled breaking the Eagles tenacious half-court press and only scored when they got the ball into their posts or on put-backs. The game seemed to zip by with the Eagles gathering momentum as the second period came to a close. The Eagles trotted off to the locker room with a ten point lead and a feeling of confidence.

The third period was altogether different. One of the Grizzly posts took over and directed her team by example, playing tough defense and being relentless under the basket. She was obviously the athlete that could beat the Eagles if she got hot. Except for Haley, the Eagles shooting feel off into the iceberg range and gradually the Grizzlies close the gap, eventually taking the lead with a minute to go in the third period. The game had been very physical so far but the referees were calling fouls and both teams were in bonus trouble. Natalie had three fouls herself, which was very unusual for her. The tall girl on the other team scored at the end of the third period but then picked up her fourth foul, drawing a blocking call on one of Haley's signature drives.

Both coaches sat their go-to players at the beginning of the fourth period, each coach closely watching the other. The game evened out for a couple of minutes until the Grizzlies got two offensive rebounds and put them in. The scoring hadn't stopped but it had slowed down a lot and those four points pushed the Grizzlies up by three. The Eagles coach called timeout and sent Haley back in. The big girl went immediately to the scorers table and checked in herself.

The Eagles had the ball at half court and the Grizzlies offered no pressure on the in-bounds play. Haley turned and slowly crab-dribbled toward the key, looking carefully across court for any possible pass to turn into a score. She didn't see anything and passed off to her guard, cutting through and filling the baseline on the other side as the guard took her place out front. The guard, a thin, lithe girl named Marla immediately fired a quick pass to Cindi, the Eagle center on the opposite baseline. She was set for a three and the Grizzlies were screaming for her defender to get in her face before she could shoot. Instead Cindi skipped a bullet pass all the way across to Haley, who calmly set herself and drained a three to tie the game before the Grizzly on her side got close. Haley and the big Grizzly center became the entire focus of the game and the crowd. Every eye was on them each time the players ran up an down the court and the entire gym roared whenever they made a play. The big girl leaped high in the air to bring down a float pass only she could get and then made a perfect power-to-the-baseline move, sealing the defender on her hip as she gently laid the ball against the glass and it shot downward through the net. Haley dribbled straight down the court on the next play, faked right, then left, then hesitated before she drove left again, faking out her defender. She pulled up just outside the free throw line and shot a jump shot with enough arch to avoid the big girl's outstretched hand. The shot barely touched net. The game was tied again. This was repeated a couple of times in different situations with the big Grizzly scoring inside the paint and Natalie hitting outside shots to match her.

The game clock moved down inside two minutes and the crowd was in a frenzy. Donnie was standing with everyone else in the big gym, yelling at the top of his voice for the Eagles. The Grizzlies took a thirty second time out to set up their next possession. Donnie knew the Eagles coach was emphasizing defense and demanding that his team harass the guards and forwards so they would have a hard time passing inside. He knew how it felt to stand in that circle of players, and empathized with Natalie having to wait those long seconds for the whistle that would restart the last moments of the Girls Division One State Championship game.

The Eagles were unable to stop the big girl from scoring on their next possession and the pressure switched to them as they brought the ball down. The clock was ticking down to near a minute left. Haley passed the ball and cut across again to the opposite corner. The Grizzlies had learned their lesson the first time and as she caught the skip pass from the other wing her defender was a full step closer than she had been on the former play. Haley weighed the percentages. She brought the ball up and jerked her shoulders with it, lifting her head as well and straightening her legs. The taller defender thought she was going up for the shot and made the serious error of leaving her feet to try for a rejection. Haley pulled the ball back down quickly looked inside and stepped toward the baseline executing a perfect low bounce pass to her teammate Cindi, who had posted up at the low block and had somehow managed to get perfect position on the big Grizzly girl. Laura faked a moved toward the baseline then turned her shoulder toward the middle of the lane and lofted a soft short hook that hit the backboard and hung on the edge of the rim for a long second before dropping through. Again the game was tied.

Moments later, the Big Grizzly girl hit a surprise bucket from the top of the key. Cindi mishandled another perfect dish from Haley and the Grizzly guard put her hand up and dribbled slowly down the court as the seconds ticked off. She looked right at where she made her entry pass as Haley took advantage of the error and stole the ball, dribbling the length of the court for an easy layup. The Eagles fans went crazy as she raised her fist again as she ran back down the court. There were forty-three seconds left on the clock when Haley fed Cindi again in the middle of the key. Cindi tried to make a move but was smothered by the tall girl. A whistle pierced the noise but it was still a few moments before it registered on the crowd and they went silent, waiting for the call. The official had run all the way over to the scorer's table to give them the player number and check the official book. He turned and ran back out on the court toward the tall Grizzly. He stepped close to her and Donnie could see his hand in front of his chest holding up five fingers. She had fouled out! The girl stood in shock for a moment then slowly left the court in tears to a wall of applause. The Grizzly coach looked up and down her bench for a moment then signaled to another girl to check in. Cindi hit her first of the one and one and missed the second. Eagles up by one.

The Eagles looked to run the clock out but they were about fifteen seconds short. Cindi ended up with the ball and a clear look at the basket but the shot clanged hard off the rim and skipped into the hands of a Grizzly forward who immediately fired the ball to a guard rushing past Marla. Haley saw that her teammate was beaten and raced to a cut off point just before the basket. She reached it only slightly before the other girl and, despite her best efforts, her arm slapped against the other girls, causing the shot to bounce harmlessly away. Haley didn't celebrate, she was waiting for the whistle she knew would come and, after a moment, it did. It was her fourth. There was three seconds left on the clock.

The Grizzly stood at the line, looking nervously over at her bench and shifting her weight back and forth on her feet. The referee gave her the ball and she bounced it hard against the floor. She set herself and lofted the shot. Donnie knew it was off the minute she let it go. The arch was flat and the ball hit the front of the rim and bounced away. She looked again to the bench for help. Her coach yelled at her to take a breath. The girl stepped to the line again and, taking a big breath, settled in and popped up to shoot a perfect free throw. Just as he knew it was going to miss the time before, Donnie knew this one was dead on. The game was tied, again. Three seconds later, they were in overtime.

The Eagle coach had her girls gathered around her so tightly she couldn't be seen. The Grizzly coach was furiously drawing something on her white-board and gesturing to different players as she did.

Moments later the teams returned to the court. The Eagle strategy was immediately clear to Donnie. The coach had told Haley to drive the key on every possession with the rest of the team crashing the boards. It paid off right away with Haley being fouled and going to the line for two, which she made so effortlessly it looked like she could hit them with her eyes closed. The Eagles forced a turnover on the Grizzlies next possession and Haley again drove the key, but from the opposite side. This time she made it to the basket and scored as she was fouled. She made the free throw and the Eagles were up by five. Both teams scored on their next three possessions to bring the clock again to the one minute mark. The Grizzly coach took her final time out, trying to coach the Grizzlies on how to stop Haley. Haley wiped some moisture on the bottom of her shoes and scuffed them against the floor causing the familiar squeak that tennis shoes make on maple. The two teams took the floor again. The Grizzlies brought the ball down with thirty five seconds remaining. With ten seconds left on their shot clock one of their forwards rushed an ill-advised shot that Cindi rebounded inside. She passed the ball out to Haley as the Grizzlies desperately tried to trap her near the sideline, but Haley's ball handling left them in the dust. She slowed the ball down after reaching the forecourt and passed the ball as the frantic Grizzlies tried to foul. Marla took the pass from Haley and drove toward the baseline, wheeling quickly to send the ball back to Haley, now planted firmly at the three point line. She let the shot go as her defender charged her with five seconds left in the game and raised her fist again, jumping and whooping loudly as the shot dropped. The crowd was so loud Donnie couldn't hear himself cheering. The noise quieted slightly as the officials seemed to confer for a moment. Then they called Haley to the line. Obviously a foul had been called on her defender and the noise level increased again as Haley put her fist in the air, dribbled the ball a few times and then nonchalantly put the ball through the hoop. The Grizzlies brought the ball in unopposed by the Eagle players who were jumping all over the court as time ran out. Haley knelt down and her teammates gathered around her. They stayed like that for a moment and then starting jumping and whooping again as they made their way to the sidelines to shake hands with the Grizzlies and their coaches. Donnie stood, looking around the huge gym at the cheering fans. He imagined playing on the University of Arizona hard court in front of a crowd like this. Maybe college was for him after all.

A few weeks before school was out, Donnie declared his intention to attend the University of Arizona on a basketball scholarship. Haley still hadn't declared her intention and it seemed like the town was full of recruiters. Graduation was a blur to him as he began to focus more and more on his commitment to the Dance. He and Haley had been going out in the open since the championship game when Haley's Dad caught them in a passionate kiss outside the Orland Gym. He hadn't interrupted them, just waited until they parted and then cleared his throat loudly. Donnie blushed crimson in embarrassment, but Haley's Dad didn't say anything, he just asked her if she was going to ride home with them or Donnie. Haley stood transfixed for a moment then chin-pointed at Donnie to indicate her choice.

"You both be careful", her Dad said. Then he went back inside the gym.

The summer flew by and before Donnie knew it the Ceremony for Renewal was completed. He had a completely different view of himself than he had when he'd first come to Redlands. He even went to Oklahoma to spend a few days with his Dad. The problems there were the same as at Redlands but the people and their ways were different. He got along well with his father and his Dad made an effort to stay sober the entire time. He really liked his Dad's sister, Lottie. She was a wonderful person. He came home with a beautiful beaded choker she'd made for him while he was there.

The last thing his Dad said before he went was, "I know your mother would be proud of everything you've accomplished," he looked carefully at Donnie, "but then you already know that. What I want to say is that I'm sorry I wasn't there for your Mom...", Donnie saw tears well up in his father's eyes. "I miss her so much. Even when we were apart I knew she was there...", he brushed the tears away. "Don't take anything for granted, son. You can lose it in a moment. I want you to know that I've never been as proud as I am of you now." His Dad stepped forward and, for the first time that Donnie could remember, embraced him in a bear hug. Donnie returned it, with feeling.

Donnie took his time getting ready to go to Arizona. He and Haley hadn't talked too much about it. She was leaning toward declaring for Colorado but still hadn't decided. There was a lot of pressure around her from her relatives. A lot of them didn't want her to go at all. Just before Memorial Day weekend she spent the day with him at the ranch. She took one look at the horses and asked Donnie if they could take a ride. A half hour later they were riding out toward the north pasture with a quick lunch whipped up by his Aunt. They didn't say much on the ride out, appreciating the soft breeze tempering the heat. They reached the cottonwoods just after noon and spread their blanket out beside the stream. It had shrunk down to only a few feet across but was still deep enough to reach above their shins.

"I need to talk to you, Crow Stands", Haley said out of the blue.

Donnie looked at her to see if she was joking. She never called him by that name.

"What about?"

"About us."

"I was afraid of that."

"Come on, Donnie, we just graduated from high school. I declared for Colorado last night." She looked at him for a response.

"And I'm off to Arizona."

"I hear there's a lot of beautiful Native girls in Arizona."

Donnie looked in her eyes for a sign of what she was thinking.

"I love you."

"I know, and I love you but...."

"But?"

"I wanted for you to be the one, I really did. But I know that having a distance relationship is hard and I don't want to hold you to any kind of commitment", she paused, "that you can't keep."

"What makes you think I wouldn't stay true to you?"

"Come on, you're a guy. Your hormones rule you."

"I seem to have been able to keep them in check with you?"

"Yeah, you have," she replied softly. "But I'm right here now. What will happen when I'm a thousand miles away."

"Are you sure this isn't about you having second thoughts about us?"

"No. You're still my number one."

"Then let's not talk about it anymore. You're my girl. Someday I hope you'll be my wife." His face was as serious as she had ever seen it.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. I'll check with you again when we come home for Thanksgiving or at Solstice."

"You do that. I won't have changed my mind."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you are the most beautiful, smart, responsible, mature, and loving person I've ever met...and you have a great body and can shoot hoops with the best of us."

She laughed musically.

"With that kind of answer, how can I resist you?"

"You can't. Do you trust me?"

"Yes", she said hesitantly.

"Get up", he said dragging her to her feet. "Now take off your clothes."

"Woah, my love. That's a little too much don't you think?"

"I don't mean all your clothes, just down to your underwear."

"I don't know...."

"Trust me", he said again, and led her down closer to the stream.

As she undressed demurely, he turned his back in respect. She was still a maiden and he was a Dancer. Respect was everything. He stripped down to his boxers and waded into the creek. The water wasn't very cold but it felt colder than it was in the hot late summer sun. He turned to her and she lowered her eyes as he looked at her in awe. She was so beautiful. He sat down in the water and then stretched out lengthwise.

"Come on in, the water's fine."

She cautiously stepped forward and gasped a little as she did. A moment later she was stretched out beside him. He reached for her hand as they lay on their backs looking up at white clouds sailing the blue sky, cottonwood leaves rustling in their ears.

"What do you think?"

"Shut up, you're ruining my perfect romantic moment."

They lay in the water for a long time as the horses grazed by the cottonwoods. The tree leaves, shaped like little tipis, rattled louder as the breeze picked up.

"I could get used to this", she said after awhile. "Tell you what, if we still feel the same way we do now, I'll meet you here next summer and we'll see where we go from there."

"That's a deal."

Donnie went to Arizona to play basketball, but he found the level of competition too much for him. He still played in pickup games when he could, and kept up with the Colorado's Girls team. Haley was a sensation. Her dark beauty and tremendous skills took the school by storm. She was a lead scorer in her Division in points and in assists. He threw himself into school, and found out that he loved engineering almost as much as basketball.

Haley didn't come home for Thanksgiving or any other holiday that year. Donnie found out that her parents were driving to Colorado instead. They had talked regularly at first, but as time went by he heard from her less and less, until finally, nothing at all for weeks. He had to admit he was hurt but his school schedule didn't allow him much time to feel sorry for himself.

Donnie came home at spring break and threw himself into the ranch work. He was surprised to find that he missed it. On the day before he was scheduled to go back to Arizona, he decided to ride Josie out to the cottonwoods.

He lay on the bank beside the stream thinking of basketball, and building things, and horses and, of course, Haley. He fell asleep and dreamed they were playing ball together. Suddenly, the ball in her hands began to change color and after a moment he could see that she was holding the earth in her hands. Her smile was just for him and he knew she was the Mother of all things.

He woke with a start as a horse snorted. Turning his head to see Josie, he was confused. Either his vision was going bad or he was still dreaming. Where once there was one, now there were two horses grazing nearby.

"Are you coming?"

He recognized her voice and turned toward the stream. She stood there dripping in her underwear. Goosebumps stood out visibly on her arms and legs.

"Its a lot colder than I remember."

"That's because it was late summer last time."

Donnie got to his feet and walked to the edge of the stream and put out his hand. She took it and stepped out of the water. He drew her to him and led her up the stream bank to the green grass where he'd been laying, then turned away for a moment as she stripped off her wet undergarments and put on her clothes. After a moment, they knelt together and then lay down side by side.

"I'm not going back to Colorado."

"Then I guess I'm not going back to Arizona."

"What are you gonna do?" they both asked at the same time.

"I guess I'm gonna go to transfer to State in Orland and get my degree in engineering", Donnie said.

"I was going to go there and become an RN."

"Then I guess we have a plan."

"Yup. Do you wanna play around?'

"Are you still a maiden?"

"As pure as the driven snow." She nodded shyly. "And probably still the only Native college virgin in the country."

"Then I guess its up to me to protect you. There'll be plenty of time for other things after we're married."

"I don't remember that in the plan."

"Guess I forgot to mention it."

"Okay. Are we gonna still play roundball?"

"Who could stop us?"

"Good. I don't think I could marry a guy that didn't shoot hoops."

"Gotta keep you under my thumb somehow."

"In your dreams, Half N Half."

"Back atcha, Dribs."

She laughed softly.

The horses moved around them as they lay together quietly, holding hands, silently becoming a new kind of grass beneath the cottonwoods.

BIO

James Don BlueWolf has been a poet, author, and storyteller since the early 1970's. He is an internationally published poet, with two volumes, "Sitting By His Bones"--published in 1999 by Earthen Vessel Productions, and the yet-to-be published "Haunted Hearts and Indin Parts". He served as Poet Laureate for Lake County, Ca., from 2000 to 2003. He is the co-author of a collection of family vignettes published in 2000, "Grandpa Says-- Stories For A Seventh Generation" and was awarded the Wordcraft Circle Of Native Writers and Storytellers recognition as Children’s Writer of the Year for his 2007 book “Speaking For Fire”.

He is listed in the 2006 Edition of “Who's Who Among American Teachers” and is an essayist and media commentator, with productions and appearances featured on TV and radio. He is the author, narrator and co-producer of the well-received documentary film, Hinthel Gaahnuula; a narrative history of the Native population around Clearlake, CA., and has been an audio text editor for the Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian.

He lives with his wife of 37 years, Bernie, in Lakeport, California.

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