The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie Read Free Book Online Page A

supposed to
    behave. But these white boys had ignored the rules. In fact, they followed a whole other set of mysterious rules where people apparently DID NOT GET INTO FISTFIGHTS.
    "Wait," I called after Roger.
    "What do you want?" Roger asked.
    "What are the rules?"
    "What rules?"
    I didn't know what to say, so I just stood there red and mute like a stop sign. Roger and his friends disappeared.
    I felt like somebody had shoved me into a rocket ship and blasted me to a new planet. I was a freaky alien and there was absolutely no way to get home.

Grandmother Gives Me Some Advice
    I went home that night completely confused. And terrified.
    If I'd punched an Indian in the face, then he would have spent days plotting his revenge.
    And I imagined that white guys would also want revenge after getting punched in the ace. So I figured Roger was going to run me over with a farm tractor or combine or grain truck or runaway pig.
    I wished Rowdy was still my friend. I could have sent him after Roger. It would have
    been like King Kong battling Godzilla.
    I realized how much of my self-worth, my sense of safety, was based on Rowdy's fists.
    But Rowdy hated me. And Roger hated me.
    I was good at being hated by guys who could kick my ass. It's not a talent you really want to have.
    My mother and father weren't home, so I turned to my grandmother for advice.
    "Grandma," I said. "I punched this big guy in the face. And he just walked away. And now I'm afraid he's going to kill me."
    "Why did you punch him?" she asked.
    "He was bullying me."
    "You should have just walked away."
    "He called me 'chief.' And 'squaw boy.' "
    "Then you should have kicked him in the balls."
    She pretended to kick a big guy in the crotch and we both laughed.
    "Did he hit you?" she asked.
    "No, not at all," I said.
    "Not even after you hit him?"
    "Nope."
    "And he's a big guy?"
    "Gigantic. I bet he could take Rowdy down."
    "Wow," she said.
    "It's strange, isn't it?" I asked. "What does it mean?"
    Grandma thought hard for a while.
    "I think it means he respects you," she said.
    "Respect? No way!"
    "Yes way! You see, you men and boys are like packs of wild dogs. This giant boy is the alpha male of the school, and you're the new dog, so he pushed you around a bit to see how tough you are."
    "But I'm not tough at all," I said.

    "Yeah, but you punched the alpha dog in the face," she said. "They're going to respect you now."
    "I love you, Grandma," I said. "But you're crazy."
    I couldn't sleep that night because I kept thinking about my impending doom. I knew
    Roger would be waiting for me in the morning at school. I knew he'd punch me in the head and shoulder area about two hundred times. I knew I'd soon be in a hospital drinking soup through a straw.

    So, exhausted and terrified, I went to school.
    My day began as it usually did. I got out of bed at dark-thirty, and rummaged around the kitchen for anything to eat. All I could find was a package of orange fruit drink mix, so I made a gallon of that, and drank it all down.
    Then I went into the bedroom and asked Mom and Dad if they were driving me to school.
    "Don't have enough gas," Dad said and went back to sleep.
    Great, I'd have to walk.
    So I put on my shoes and coat, and started down the highway. I got lucky because my
    dad's best friend Eugene just happened to be heading to Spokane.
    Eugene was a good guy, and like an uncle to me, but he was drunk all the time. Not
    stinky drunk, just drunk enough to be drunk. He was a funny and kind drunk, always wanting to laugh and hug you and sing songs and dance.
    Funny how the saddest guys can be happy drunks.
    "Hey, Junior," he said. "Hop on my pony, man."
    So I hopped onto the back of Eugene's bike, and off we went, barely in control. I just
    closed my eyes and held on.
    And pretty soon, Eugene got me to school.
    We pulled up in front and a lot of my classmates just stared. I mean, Eugene had braids down to his butt, for one, and neither of us wore helmets, for the other.

    I