Sherman Alexie - The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

"Yeah, you see that kid shoot, he reminds me so much of Arnold Spirit."

Maybe that will happen. I don't know. Can an Indian have a legacy in a white town? And

should a teenager be worry about his fricking legacy anyway?

Jeez, I must be an egomaniac.

Well, anyway, our record was 12 wins and 1 loss when we had our rematch with

Wellpinit.

They came to our gym, so I wasn't going to get burned the stake. In fact, my white fans were going to cheer for like I was some kind of crusading warrior:

Jeez, I felt like one of those Indian scouts who led the U.S. Cavalry against other Indians.

But that was okay, I guess. I wanted to win. I wanted revenge. I wasn't playing for the fans. I wasn't playing for the white people. I was playing to beat Rowdy.

Yep, I wanted to embarrass my best friend.

He'd turned into a stud on his team. He was only a freshman, too, but he was averaging

twenty-five points a game. I followed his progress in the sports section.

He'd led the Wellpinit Redskins to a 13-0 record. They were the number one-ranked

small school in the state. Wellpinit had never been ranked that high. And it was all because of Rowdy. We were ranked number two, so our game was a big deal. Especially for a small-school battle.

And most especially because I was a Spokane Indian playing against his old friends (and enemies).

A local news crew came out to interview me before the game.

"So, Arnold, how does it feel to play against your former teammates?" the sports guy asked me.

"It's kind of weird," I said.

"How weird?"

"Really weird."

Yep, I was scintillating.

The sports guy stopped the interview.

"Listen," he said. "I know this is a difficult thing. You're young. But maybe you could get more specific about your feelings."

"My feelings?" I asked.

"Yeah, this is a major deal in your life, isn't it?"

Well, duh, yeah, of course it was a major deal. It was maybe the biggest thing in my life ever, but I wasn't about to share my feelings with the whole world. I wasn't going to start blubbering for the local sports guy like he was my priest or something.

I had some pride, you know?

I believed in my privacy.

It wasn't like I'd called the guy and offered up my story you know?

And I was kind of suspicious that white people were really interested in seeing some

Indians battle each other. I think it was sort of like watching dogfighting, you know?

It made me feel exposed and primitive.

"So, okay," the sports guy said. "Are you ready to try again?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's roll."

The camera guy started filming.

"So, Arnold," the sports guy said. "Back in December, you faced your old classmates, and fellow Spokane tribal members, in a basketball game back on the reservation, and yon lost.

They're now the number one-ranked team in the state and they're coming to your home gym.

How does that make you feel?"

"Weird," I said.

"Cut, cut, cut, cut," the sports guy said. He was mad now.

"Arnold," he said. "Could you maybe think of a word besides weird?"

I thought for a bit.

"Hey," I said. "How about I say that it makes me feel like I've had to grow up really fast, too fast, and that I've come to realize that every single moment of my life is important. And that every choice I make is important. And that a basketball game, even a game between two small schools in the middle of nowhere, can be the difference between being happy and being

miserable for the rest of my life."

"Wow," the sports guy said. "That's perfect. That's poetry. Let's go with that, okay?"

"Okay," I said.

"Okay, let's roll tape," the sports guy said again and put the microphone in my face.

"Arnold," he said. "Tonight you're going into battle against your former teammates and Spokane tribal members, the Wellpinit Redskins. They're the number one-ranked team in the state and they beat you pretty handily back in December. Some people think they're going to blow you out of the gym tonight. How does that make you feel?"

"Weird," I said.

"All right, all right, that's it," the sports guy said. "We're out of here."

"Did I say something wrong?" I asked.

"You are a little asshole," the sports guy said.

"Wow, are you allowed to say that to me?"

"I'm just telling the truth."

He had a point there. I was being a jerk.

"Listen, kid," the sports guy said. "We thought this was an important story. We thought this was a story about a kid striking out on his own, about a kid being courageous, and all you want to do is give us grief."

Wow.

He was making me feel bad.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just a yucker."

"What?" the sports guy asked.

"I'm a nervous dude," I said. "I throw up before games. I think I'm just sort of, er, metaphorically throwing up on you. I'm sorry. The thing is, the best player on Wellpinit, Rowdy, he used to be my best friend. And now he hates me. He gave me a concussion that first game.

And now I want to destroy him. I want to score thirty points on him. I want him to remember this game forever."

"Wow," the sports guy said. "You're pissed."

"Yeah, you want me to say that stuff on camera?"

"Are you sure you want to say that?"

"Yeah."

"All right, let's go for it."

They set up the camera again and the sports guy put till microphone back in my face.

"Arnold, you're facing off against the number one-ranked Wellpinit Redskins tonight and their all-star, Rowdy, who used to be your best friend back when you went to school on the reservation. They beat you guys pretty handily back in December, and they gave you a

concussion. How does it feel to be playing them again?"

"I feel like this is the most important night of my life," I said. "I feel like I have something to prove to the people in Reardan, the people in Wellpinit, and to myself."

"And what do you think you have to prove?" the guy asked

"I have to prove that I am stronger than everybody else. I have to prove that I will never give up. I will never quit playing hard. And I don't just mean in basketball. I'm never going to quit living life this hard, you know? I'm never going to surrender to anybody. Never, ever, ever."

"How bad do you want to win?"

"I never wanted anything more in my life."

"Good luck, Arnold, we'll be watching."

* * *

The gym was packed two hours before the game. Two thousand people yelling and

cheering and stomping.

In the locker room, we all got ready in silence. But everybody, even Coach, came up to

me and patted my head or shoulder, or bumped fists with me, or gave me a hug.

This was my game, this was my game.

I mean, I was still just the second guy off the bench, just the dude who provided instant offense. But it was all sort of warrior stuff, too.

We were all boys desperate to be men, and this game would be a huge moment in our

transition.

"Okay, everybody, let's go over the game plan," Coach said.

We all walked over to the chalkboard area and sat on folding chairs.

"Okay, guys," Coach said. "We know what these guys can do. They're averaging eighty points a game. They want to run and run and run. And when they're done running and gunning, they're going to run and gun some more."

Man, that wasn't much of a pep talk. It sounded like Coach was sure we were going to

lose.

"And I have to be honest, guys," Coach said. "We can't beat these guys with our talent.

We just aren't good enough. But I think we have bigger hearts. And I think we have a secret weapon."

I wondered if Coach had maybe hired some Mafia dude to take out Rowdy.