The Savage

Five

"What is 'Wakan Tanka'?" the small voice startled me and I opened my eyes, feeling a tear trickle down my cheek. Wiping it angrily away, I stood, facing the new girl, Nettie. Her brown eyes were kind, but timid.

"What do you want." Ignoring her question, I glared at her untrusting. She returned my look with innocent blandness.

"Your lunch was left outside, and I thought you'd still be hungry." Holding out my paper bag, she smiled a little.

"I don't need it." My tone stiff, I took the sack from her. She looked away, chastened, but didn't move. After a moment her eyes glanced back toward me.

"You like to fight huh."

"It's better than doing nothing!" I retorted, wary.

"It causes trouble," she pointed out gently, nodding toward the door. "You can't be outside now because you hit that boy."

"He was going to beat you!" Defensive, I crossed my arms.

"I would've been alright," her voice trembled with shame, but the girl didn't back down. "I don't like fightin'."

"Those that do not fight have no honor." I lifted my chin. "I defeat my enemies!"

"Fightin' ain't always right," she countered, rubbing the toe of her shoe on the floor. "Least that's what my daddy says."

"What does he know?" I scoffed loudly, instantly regretting it but too proud to take it back. "A man that does not fight is not a man!"

"Well," Nettie's head bowed lower. "That's not what I've been taught. But..." her voice trailed away and she turned. It seemed her shoulders slumped a little more as she moved toward the door. I bit my bottom lip for a moment, watching her lunch pail swing from her fingers. What would Papa think of me now, I wondered, treating a kind gesture with such little gratitude? Guilt squirmed like a snake in my stomach.

"Great Spirit." I called softly after her, and Nettie turned, curious.

"What?"

"Wankan Tanka...it means Great Spirit."

It took a moment then her smile came back, shy, faint, but it was there. Hands held behind her back, she approached. We regarded each other for a long moment, then she held out her hand.

"I'm Nettie." For a moment longer I studied her then took her hand in mine, an uncertain, uncomfortable gesture. Her fingers were the same size as mine, though mine were slightly more elegant in shape.

"I'm Kimimela, but my mamma calls me Jaynie."

"Kimela?" she tried, but I shook my head.

"Kimimela, but Frank, that's Mamma's man, he calls me Butterfly, when Mamma's not around."

"Frank ain't your daddy?" I shook my head, mistrust starting to form but she looked sympathetic. I wasn't used to kindness from the other children.

"I'm sorry. Jeb ain't my daddy either, but he's good to me."

"Jeb...that's your mamma's man?" I was curious. I'd never met another family like mine before. Nettie nodded.

"I was two when they got married, an' he's raised me like his own. I got two younger siblin's, a brother and sister."

"I'm going to be big sister soon. Mamma told me this morning."

"I like being the oldest." Nettie told me proudly, the first hint of fire showing in her brown eyes. "They learn how to do stuff by watching me!"

"I don't want a sister." The words had bubbled out before I'd even really thought about them, but Nettie never hesitated. Her smile was eager.

"Sisters are okay, I like mine, but my baby brother! He's awfully cute, and he lets only me rock him to sleep! Not even my ma can do that!"

"Really?" my curiosity was piqued now, and I took a step closer to her. "How old is he?"

"Farley is about three now I figure. His hair sticks out like this," her hands lifted to form a wide halo around her head. My eyes went wide.

"Why?"

"That's how our hair is, when it ain't oiled down and combed."

"I've never seen anything like that before."

"I've never seen anyone like you before, Jaynie." Her smile was back to hesitant. "The other kids call you an Injun. Are you?"

"My Papa is Yanktonai, a fierce warrior!" my voice was strong, proud at the thought, but I sobered. "My mamma is white."

"What's yanktonai?"

"It is one of the tribes that the whites call Sioux."

"So, you're part Indian, and part white?" I could see her puzzling that over, her eyes roving my face and hair. I knew what she saw. Rich dusky skin, inky black hair laced with auburn during the summer, nearly black eyes flecked with speckles of green set in a soft face with high cheekbones and full lips. She smiled finally.

"You don't look much differn't, 'cept your colorin', and somethin' in your face and eyes."

"So...I don't look different except for how I look?"

We stared at each other for a full minute, then Nettie threw back her head and we both laughed.

"I suppose that didn't make a lotta sense," she studied me carefully, smiling. "I think you're pretty."

"Thank you." Startled at her declaration, I felt shy, but warm from the praise. When the class came in from play we were sitting at our desks, having pushed them closer together, and I felt something I had been missing. I had a friend.