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  “I don’t need backstory, just tell me what you gotta tell her.”

  “I have to tell her that I want to register with the Seneca tribe and not the Navajo tribe.”

  “What? Hold up. All right, I think I need the backstory on this one.”

  Alan explained his situation to Kevin while they walked to the main floor. In all the time that Alan had endured Kevin, he’d never thought he would be asking him for advice.

  “And you can’t enroll with both?” Kevin asked.

  “Nope. Neither Navajo nor Seneca allow dual enrollment,” Alan said. “I already know which one I want.”

  “Does that mean you can only be one?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like if you are Seneca, can you even go to Navajo ceremonies?” Kevin asked. He squeezed his chin.

  “I don’t know!” Alan hadn’t even considered that. Were there other consequences he didn’t know about?

  “I don’t know; you’re the Senecavajo here, not me!” Kevin said.

  “Senecavajo?”

  “Half-Seneca. Half-Navajo.”

  “Never mind,” Alan said. “I just need to tell my mom.”

  “I got it. Practice on me. Come on. Call me Mom and everything.” Kevin smiled. He slapped Alan’s shoulder playfully.

  “What? Okay. Mother?”

  “Yes, my baby boy?” Kevin said, forcing his voice to a higher octave. “I will love you no matter what you tell me.” In his normal voice, “Go on.”

  “I want to register as Seneca?”

  “Oh, good heavens, no! My entire worldeth hath falleth apart!” Kevin yelled. Everyone glanced in his direction.

  Hot blood flushed Alan’s forehead. “Dude, shut up! My mom’s not British!”

  Kevin continued, “How couldeth you? I gaveth thee life and this is how you repayeth me!”

  Alan looked to the ground, thoroughly embarrassed.

  “How do you feel?” Kevin asked in his normal voice.

  “Like getting away from you,” Alan said.

  “See! You’re no longer scared!” Kevin said.

  “Nope, still scared and also embarrassed by you,” Alan said.

  “Give your mom some credit, man. She’s an adult,” Kevin said.

  Something clicked in Alan. His mom was an adult. It was the stupidest and simplest realization he had. Thinking of his mom as an adult made telling her a little bit easier.

  “Hey, Alan!” Jordan shouted in the middle of the floor. “Our section is up!”

  “Let me know how it goes!” Kevin said.

  “Okay. Thanks,” Alan said, rushing to meet with Jordan and the others.

  On the drive back from the airport to Navajo, New Mexico, Alan wasn’t disappointed that he hadn’t placed in any of the categories that he’d danced. He had made several new friends. While he felt great, a deep anxiety chewed on his happiness, threatening to swallow his newfound confidence. To get rid of this ugly feeling, he would have to tell his mother his decision.

  When his father drove into their driveway, Alan’s heart was beating so loud he was surprised his father didn’t hear it. Sizzling beads of sweat rolled down his temples.

  Then he got a text. It was from Kevin. Don’t chicken out! Speak up! His heart slowed down and didn’t bump up against his rib cage as hard.

  At dinner, Alan tried to eat and be invisible. The weight of his decision thickened the atmosphere. His forehead grew hot and foggy, like he was in a sweat lodge. His mother sat in front of him with a wide smile, while his father told her what happened in Michigan. She wore her faded sweatshirt from Haskell Indian Nations University, where she and his father had met.

  He looked down at the Hamburger Helper on his plate. It was his favorite, triple cheeseburger with diced green chili.

  “So, is this something you want to get serious with?” his father said.

  “Huh?” Alan said.

  “Powwow. Is this something you want to do competitively?” his father said.

  “Everything all right?” his mother asked.

  “Yeah,” Alan said. He sounded more annoyed than he intended.

  “You don’t sound fine,” his mother said.

  “Well, I am.” Alan just couldn’t tell her. Not when she was looking right into his eyes. He was going to break her heart.

  “What’s on your mind? You don’t eat when you have something on your mind,” his mother said, pointing at the barely touched plate in front of him.

  Alan had been backed into a corner, betrayed by Hamburger Helper. If he said he wanted to enroll with the Seneca, would that mean he couldn’t be Navajo? Would that mean he would be less like his mother? He looked at her. He hated that he would be the one to shatter her pretty smile. Even though it scared him, Alan had to speak up. He forced the bitter words out of his mouth. “I want to enroll with the Seneca Nation!”

  That did it. Alan thought her smile melted into a deep frown. Meanwhile, his father stood up and started clapping.

  His mother folded in half and held a hand over her lips. To him, it looked like she was going to cry.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Alan said.

  She didn’t smile, but she calmly looked at him. His father, completely unaware of the two of them, was too busy dancing around the kitchen.

  “Honey, why are you apologizing?” she asked. She reached out and held his hand.

  “Huh? You aren’t devastated?” Alan said.

  “Devastated! Jeez, no!” She squeezed his hand.

  “But this means I’m not Navajo and won’t be able to go to any ceremonies,” Alan said.

  His father stopped dancing and singing. His mother let go of his hand. She looked at his father and nodded.

  “Son,” his father said. “You are still Navajo. Enrolling with the Seneca Nation doesn’t make you less Navajo. You’re still allowed to go to Navajo ceremonies. And you still should. Because that’s as much a part of you as the sweat lodge is.”

  “Honey,” his mother said. “Understand this. You are Navajo. You are Seneca. But above everything, you are you.”

  “We love you, son, no matter which nation you enroll with. But thank the Creator you chose the best one!” his father said, laughing and dancing again.

  “Oh, hush!” his mother said, playfully rolling her eyes.

  Alan scooped some food into his mouth, and the Hamburger Helper tasted absolutely delicious!

  Squash Blossom Bracelet: Kevin’s Story

  Brian Young

  The Tuesday of his spring break, Kevin was bored out of his mind. All his friends had gone away, and at home his mom was finishing the squash blossom bracelet that she was going to sell at the upcoming Michigan powwow. He walked to the only basketball court in his small northern New Mexico town, dribbling a smooth faded ball.

  Someone was already on the concrete courts. He was powwow dancing. Kevin automatically knew he was going to annoy Alan, who was in his sixth-grade English class. Every single thing Alan did got on Kevin’s nerves. For example, Alan breathed through his mouth and chewed gum like a goat. He didn’t have any friends and sat alone during lunch. Kevin wasn’t going to allow Alan to dance on the court. As far as he was concerned, basketball courts were for basketball. End of story.

  “Move,” Kevin said to Alan, stepping onto the crumbling concrete.

  Alan pulled out his Bluetooth earpieces. “What?”

  “Get lost,” Kevin said, annoyed.

  “Use the other side of the court. I’m using this one,” Alan said, pointing.

  It didn’t matter that the other court had fewer cracks. Alan had to understand who was in charge. Kevin responded, “Tough break, Braids. I’m using this one.” He shot his ball at the netless rim.

  Alan went back to his dancing. Kevin, then, swung his elbows wide, hoping to whack Alan. Alan crouched low and held out his arms like a stupid bird.

  Kevin knew very little of powwows, attending them only to help his mom sell jewelry. He didn’t need powwows because he had Navajo
ceremonies. Powwows were an “Indian” thing, and Kevin was no “Indian.” He was Navajo.

  Kevin launched the ball at the backboard. It rebounded with a thunderous clap. Just as planned, it bounced toward Alan, who was completely concentrating on his dancing. Kevin charged. Alan opened his eyes seconds before Kevin slammed his shoulder right into Alan’s stomach.

  “Seriously?” Alan said, in between loud gasps for breath.

  “Ain’t my fault you got in my way, Braids,” Kevin said, smirking. “Oh, come on. You gonna cry?”

  “No!” Alan said, his eyes red and wet.

  “You gonna be a crybaby?” Kevin said.

  “Man, forget you!” Alan said. He stood up and walked toward the nearby orange plateaus, where Navajo Housing Authority houses were. With Alan out of sight, Kevin shot a few hoops with a satisfied smile.

  Kevin’s mom woke him up when she parked their beat-up car outside Skyline High School, which was hosting the University of Michigan powwow. There were already hundreds of cars and trucks in the parking lot. There were old, busted Rez vehicles with doughnut spares and door panels that didn’t match the color of the main car body. There were even Benzes that gleamed in the gentle spring sun. Kevin helped his mom carry the jewelry carts to their booth location. On their way, they passed a group of excited Elders taking pictures of the eagle statue in the rotunda. A bored-looking boy sighed, waiting for them to finish their photos.

  After they set up their jewelry booth, his mom settled into reading while he scanned the powwow brochure. The front flap had a picture of the current and very pretty Miss Indian World, who was a guest judge. Grand Entry was scheduled in an hour.

  He looked around. There were so many people it looked like an agitated anthill. Some people wore elaborate and colorful powwow regalia. He saw some pretty girls in jingle dresses; every step they took, the tiny jingles rang like little bells. A group of male dancers, some his age, wore enormous white hoops around their brown necks. Everyone was excited to be there.

  Kevin felt a twinge of jealousy. He loved going to Navajo ceremonies, but his friends didn’t.

  He recognized one of the dancers in blue-and-green regalia. The familiarity came more from the way he walked and moved. The guy’s feet shuffled like a duck’s. His neck jutted forward like he was a T. rex. It was Alan.

  Kevin lifted the brochure to shield him from Alan’s stupid face. When he was sure that Alan had passed, he lowered the brochure. He hoped that was the last and only time he would have to see that face.

  Dancing started. Sales slowed because everyone was watching the competitions. Kevin’s mom had fallen asleep, her book over her eyes. Kevin was about to wake her up so he could go to the food court when a pretty girl, his age, in a pink jingle dress came to the booth.

  Kevin lost his ability to speak. Two long braids pulled her hair apart. Silver cones on her dress twinkled with her steps. Her moccasins were sky turquoise, like the tiny feathers that adorned her dangling earrings. She looked at the squash blossom bracelet with the turquoise heart.

  The pretty girl said some words that Kevin couldn’t understand. So he said the only word he knew at that moment: “Sure.” She smiled!

  She then handed him a twenty-dollar bill, took the squash blossom bracelet, and walked away. She turned back to smile before disappearing around a corner. Kevin’s cheeks cooled down and his head stopped spinning.

  His mom woke and closed the book. Stretching, she noticed that the bracelet was gone.

  “Oh, you sold the squash blossom heart?” she said.

  “Yeah,” Kevin said, his voice airy, wishing the pretty jingle dress dancer would return.

  “This early?” She looked happily surprised. “Big pricers don’t sell until after award money has been handed out.”

  Big pricers! Kevin looked at the price tag where the bracelet had been: $750.00! He crushed the twenty dollars that the jingle dancer had handed him. Hot guilt squeezed the air out of his lungs.

  “Good job, shiyazhi,” his mom said.

  “Yeah, awesome job, me. Woo,” Kevin said. He chuckled to hide his nerves. “Should make me your manager.”

  “Keep it up and I’ll think about it. Hey, you hungry?”

  “Starving,” Kevin said, his thoughts far from food. He had to get the bracelet back!

  “Why don’t I go get us something from the food court?” his mom said, standing.

  “I’ll get it! You just sit here and, you know, sell the stuff, at the price they’re listed at.”

  “Weirdo. Everything all right?”

  “Everything’s cool. Nothing’s off.”

  “All right. What did you do?” She folded her arms and stared directly into his eyes. Her gaze could terrify a demon.

  Despite his best efforts, Kevin looked at the empty space where the bracelet had been. “There was this girl . . .”

  “You met a girl?” she asked. Her lips curved into a smirk.

  That was way too close! He said, “Yes! She was a she. And I met her. She and I did the meeting while you were sleeping.”

  “You’re a bit young for girls, mister.” She shook her head. “We’re having ‘the talk’ on our drive back.”

  Kevin sighed; anything to keep her distracted. His heart rate calmed and his body temperature chilled. “I’m not young anymore, Mom. I’m practically a teenager.”

  “My baby is growing up. If you run into her, buy her some food, too. Be all chivalrous and stuff.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be ‘shivyrus.’” Kevin took off, desperately scanning the crowd for pink jingle dresses and turquoise moccasins.

  Kevin guessed he had a few minutes before his mom suspected something. He didn’t want to tell her what had happened. But if he wasn’t able to get the bracelet back, he would have to ’fess up. And if he didn’t tell her, his punishment was going to be even worse when she found out. And she always found out.

  He started at the food court. There weren’t many people. He heard a jingling, like a ring full of keys. He turned, and immediately saw a jingle dress. However, it was green. His hope evaporated.

  “Man, why can’t all the jingle dress dancers just be in one place?” Kevin said. He ran his fingers through his hair. He decided to check the parking lot.

  He jogged up and down the lanes and in between the vehicles. But there were no dancers. No fancy, no grass, no nothing.

  Something jingled! He darted toward the noise. He sprinted down the row of vehicles. He caught a glimpse of blue moccasins stepping behind a tall van. Kevin dashed. There was more jingling. This was it! He had found her!

  “Hey!” Kevin shouted as he rounded the corner. A cloud of pain exploded as he slammed his face into the back of someone. The person fell to the ground. Red flashes popped like fireworks in his vision. Slowly, they blurred away and he was able to see who was in front of him. “Braids! Seriously?”

  “Ugh, it’s just you,” Alan scoffed.

  “Watch where you’re going!” Kevin snapped.

  “Whatever.” Alan grabbed a leather strip that had bells sewn into it. It jingled with every movement as he stood back up.

  Kevin wanted to make Alan cry, but he didn’t have much time. As much as he hated it, he would have to ask Alan for help.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about running into you,” Kevin said. The apology tasted like vinegar.

  Alan raised an eyebrow, then said, “What do you want?”

  “What are you talking about?” Kevin said, forcing a smile.

  “I ain’t helping you.”

  Kevin closed his eyes and summoned happy thoughts so he wouldn’t push Alan back down. “I do really need help, Braids. Please, you’re the only person I know here.”

  Alan was considering.

  “I’ll do anything,” Kevin said.

  “Anything? Like leave me alone at school?”

  “Won’t even look at you,” Kevin said. This actually wasn’t that bad a deal. The less he dealt with Alan, the better for him, too.

  “Fine.
What do you need me to do?”

  Kevin smiled and told Alan everything.

  They searched different areas, Kevin outside, Alan on the dance floor. A good while passed, and Kevin was no closer to finding the pretty jingle dress dancer. Kevin stood in front of World’s Best Fry Bread, which sold Navajo burgers, his mom’s favorite. It was looking like he was going to have to tell his mom what had happened if Alan came back with nothing.

  Maybe he could get Alan to stick around while he told his mom. Having him nearby would cool her rage.

  Alan walked into view. From his question-mark posture, Kevin guessed that Alan hadn’t been successful. He said, “I couldn’t find her. The Jingle Dress competition is tomorrow. You can find her then.”

  “Tomorrow’s no good,” Kevin said. His mom counted profits at the end of every day. She’d find out then. It was time to bite the bullet and fess up. “You gotta be my wingman. Ain’t no way I’m fessing up to my mom alone.”

  “I gotta get ready.”

  “You leave now and I’ll punch you every day at school,” Kevin said.

  “Fine.” Alan rolled his eyes. “I hope she gets really mad at you.”

  “Of course she’ll be mad. I can handle that. What really gets me is when I disappoint her. She has this look.” It was heartbreaking. “Same look she gave my dad when he left. Absolutely hate it. Know what I mean? Never mind, you can’t.”

  “Why?” Alan said.

  “Huh?” Kevin responded.

  “Why can’t I understand?”

  “Dude, you have both your parents. They have steady jobs.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You got it easy. You always have the cleanest and nicest clothes.”

  “Because I don’t look a certain way doesn’t mean I don’t know how to work.”

  “You ever chop wood for winter?”

  “No.”

  “Case in point. Hey,” Kevin said to the vendor, an older woman with grease spots on her forearms. “One green chili Navajo cheeseburger.”

  “Oh, an Indian burger?” the vendor lady asked.

  “Navajo burger,” Kevin corrected her.

  “I work,” Alan said bitterly.

  Alan was getting riled up. Kevin responded, “Did I say something?”