the basketball court, I see a thread of students climbing up over the lip of the hill from Shitike Road. Indian kids. Joe and I are the only white kids, and even with our brown hair and summer tans, we stick out.
The school is flanked by two dormitoriesâfor girls on one side and boys on the other. Not long ago, this was a boarding school just for Indian kids. Last year, the Bureau of Indian Affairs turned the school over to the county. Now everybody in grade school comes here. Some Indian kids stay in the dorms if their homes are way out on the reservation.
My throat gets tighter when I see the mass of kids around the stone steps of the school building. Not a grownup in sight.
"I'm going to go find Howie," Joe says.
"
What?
Noâ" I blurt, but he takes off toward the playground, leaving me exposed on the sidewalk.
I take a deep breath and tell myself,
Today's the first day of school everywhere. All you have to do is look for somebody standing all alone, smiling. Better yet, somebody scared spitless. Go say hi. Simple as that.
A pack of girls pushes out through the doors of the dormitory across the way. Then the door of the boys' dorm bursts open behind me, and I'm caught in a swirl of black-haired kids. Not one of them looks half as scared as I feel.
I grip my tablet and work my way to the edge of the crowd. That's when I see a white kid about my age standing off to the side of the playfield. There's something odd about him, like his face wasn't put together right. Plaid shirt buttoned up all the way and tucked into his pants, belt cinched tight. He has a big grin plastered on his face. I walk over, and I'm about to say something when Joe trots up. "Hey, Howie. I was looking for you."
Howie points at him. "Joe," he says to me.
"Yeah, I know. I'm his sister."
Joe looks around at the crowd. "Lotta kids here, huh."
Howie nods. "Huh."
What's with this kid?
I look over at Joe. "I thought you said you and Howie are in the same class."
"We are," Joe says. "He's my friend."
But he's older than you. And what's wrong with him?
I can't ask this in front of Howie, so I smile and say, "Oh. Nice to meet you."
Howie glances over my shoulder, and the grin disappears. I turn to see Jewel and another girl slice through the mob. The other girl stops right in front of me, her feet bare in scuffed white flats, like she's trying to look cool. Jewel stands beside her, watching. I hold my breath, trying not to flinch.
"Looks like the
re
-tard found some company," the girl says.
I wish I could disappear.
Howie's shoulders sag. "That's not nice, Norma," he says.
I'm stunned. How can that girl be so mean? I can't think of a thing to say.
Joe tugs on his sleeve. "C'mon, Howie. Let's go." My little brother has the nerve to stare back at Norma. He and Howie push through the crowd of kids that has gathered around us.
Norma smirks, turning back to me. "Friends of yours?"
Jewel hasn't said a thing this whole time, but I can feel her eyes on me.
I don't know where it comes from, but I'm not scared anymore. I'm mad. "Yeah," I say. "And you leave them alone."
I turn away, cross the street, and start up the steps to the front door. A bell suddenly begins to clang, and the students of Warm Springs Grade School surge into the building.
Good German Name
T HE main hallway is a cavern. A tall man stands inside the door, nodding over the crowd like he's counting heads. This must be Mr. Shanahan, the principal.
He spots me. "You're new," he says, like I might not know.
"Uh-huh."
I'm supposed to go to the office to check in. Mr. Shanahan steps into the traffic to create a narrow opening, and I slip through it into the office. It is quiet in here, just a lady standing on the other side of the counter filling out a form. The other students must already know where they belong.
"My mom called last week?" I say when she doesn't look up. "To register us?" I have no idea where Joe is. He's supposed to be in here with me. I run my hand