Ancestor Approved: Intertribal Stories for Kids by Cynthia Leitich Smith

Author:Cynthia Leitich Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2020-11-27T00:00:00+00:00

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.

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