The day dragged by, information forced into my mind that I did not want and told myself I would never use. Only the echo of my papa's voice kept me seated and quiet. 'The whites are our enemies, Kimimela, and they outnumber our people one hundred to one. We must learn about them, know them, then we can defeat them. Knowledge, daughter, knowledge can be deadlier than the sharpest knife.' The lunch bell rang at last, and I moved eagerly out into the sun, feeling it kiss my cheeks.
I selected a quiet spot in the grass well off to the side of the schoolhouse, eating my sandwich and apple, watching the others play. The girls were skipping rope, the boys wresting and racing, laughter echoing around the yard. One solitary figure caught my eye, and I looked over just as a group of boys led by Sammy Hayes saw her too.
"My pa says your kind don't belong with proper folk!" Bobby Nash spoke loudly.
"Yeah, you're nothin' but field tillin' slaves, no better'n mules!" Sammy eagerly joined in, and they ringed around the girl, taunting, yelling. Blood beginning to boil I slowly stood up, reminded of another little girl, outnumbered and beat up by boys. The memory of how I had made them pay brought a savage smile to my lips, and I set my food back into the lunch sack, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. There was no noise under my feet as I moved forward, slipping around the group until I was directly behind Bobby. When he moved, I was ready for him.
I caught his arm as he shoved the girl down, and as she hit her side I threw Bobby over her, watching as his face met the ground with a crunch. In a wild chaos of yelling and moving bodies, the fight was on, a hand grabbing, feet kicking, biting, squirming mass.
"What is going on here?!" Miss Hazel rushed out, pulling the children apart, digging though the squirming limbs to the bottom of the pile. I had Sammy Hayes pinned under me, and was pummeling his face as hard as I could with my fists.
"Jaynie Colter! What on earth-!" she was aghast, lifting me roughly from him. "What happened!"
"She just attacked me!" Sammy was getting up, holding his bloody nose. His eye was already swollen nearly shut.
"And she pushed Bobby into the ground!" Alma Moore piped up, pointing accusingly at me. The boy's face bore the skid marks of rough ground, and Miss Hazel looked down at me, exasperated.
"Jaynie, why would you do that!? You know the rules about fighting!" If she was waiting for an explanation she would be disappointed, for I simply stood there, my arm in her tight grip.
"Miss Hazel?" Lettie spoke up, holding out her arm. "I think the Injun girl bit me."
"Jaynie!" Flustered, she pulled me up the steps and pushed me firmly into the schoolhouse. "No more recess the rest of the week! You simply cannot bite the other students!"
The door closed swiftly behind her, and I was left alone in the empty room. I could hear the whining complaints of the girls, and the boastful justification of the boys outside. Crossing my arms I went to the window, looking outside. They were all speaking at once, Miss Hazel in the middle, sympathetic, attentive, coddling. Snorting in disdain, I turned away. Let them cry and snivel...I despised them all!
Moving into a corner I sat down, folding my legs gracefully under me, my hands resting peacefully in my lap. Head up, shoulders back, I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, letting my mind drift back to happier times. I made myself remember my papa, my people, the scent of wood smoke, buffalo oil, roasted corn and buckskin, the smell of freedom. A soft hum formed in the back of my throat, rough at first, then rising in volume as the words came back to me.
"Great Spirit, have compassion upon me, for I am suffering..." I felt tears gather in my eyes as I repeated the phrase, fingers curling into tight fists in my lap.
"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.