PART IV
Powwow
A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness.
—JEAN GENET
Orvil Red Feather
INSIDE THE COLISEUM, the field is already packed with people, with dancers, tables, and canopies. Packed to the stands. Camping chairs and lawn chairs are scattered across the field, with and without people sitting in them—saved spots. On top of the tables and hung on the backs and sides of canopy walls are powwow hats and T-shirts with slogans like Native Pride written in capital block letters gripped by eagle talons; there are dream catchers, flutes, tomahawks, and bows and arrows. Indian jewelry of every kind is splayed and hung everywhere, crazy amounts of turquoise and silver. Orvil and his brothers stop for a minute at the table with beaded A’s and Raiders beanies, but they really want to check out the line of food tables in the outfield.
They spend their fountain money and go up to the second deck to eat. The fry bread is wide and the meat and grease are deep.
“Man. That’s goot,” Orvil says.
“Pffft,” Loother says. “Quit trying to talk Indian.”
“Shut up. What am I supposed to sound like, a white boy?” Orvil says.
“Sometimes you sound like you wanna be Mexican,” Lony says. “Like when we’re at school.”
“Shut up,” Orvil says.
Loother elbows Lony and they both crack up at Orvil. Orvil takes off his hat and hits them both on the back of the head with it. Then Orvil takes the taco and steps over the row to sit behind them. After sitting in silence for a while, he hands the taco to Lony.
“How much you say you could win if you win?” Loother asks Orvil.
“I don’t wanna talk about it. It’s bad luck,” Orvil says.
“Yeah but you said it was like, five thou—” Loother says.
“I said I don’t wanna talk about it,” Orvil says.
“？’Cuz you think it’ll jinx it, huh?”
“Loother, shut the fuck up.”
“All right,” Loother says.
“All right then,” Orvil says.
“But imagine how much cool shit we could get with that kinda money,” Loother says.
“Yeah,” Lony says, “we could get a PS4, a big TV, some J’s—”
“We would give it all to Grandma,” Orvil says.
“Aw man, that’s weak,” Loother says.
“C’mon, you know she likes to work,” Lony says, still chewing the last of the taco.
“There’s probably other stuff she’d rather do if she could,” Orvil says.
“Yeah, but we could just keep some of it,” Loother says.
“Shit,” Orvil says, looking down at the time on his phone. “I gotta get down to the locker room!”
“What you want us to do?” Loother asks.
“Stay up here,” Orvil says. “I’ll come get you after.”
“What? C’mon,” Lony says.
“I’ll come get you after, it won’t take that long,” Orvil says.
“But we can’t barely see shit from up here,” Loother says.
“Yeah,” Lony says.
Orvil walks away. He knows the more he argues, the more rebellious they’ll get.
* * *
—
The men’s locker room is loud with laughter. At first Orvil thinks they’re laughing at him, but then realizes someone had told a joke just before he got in, because more jokes come as he sits down. Mostly it’s older guys, but there are a few young men in there too. He puts his regalia on slow, carefully, and puts his earphones in, but before he can put a song on he sees a guy across from him gesturing for him to take them out. It’s this huge Indian guy. He stands up, he’s in full regalia, and he picks his feet up one at a time, which makes his feathers shake, which sort of scares Orvil. The guy clears his throat.
“Now you young men in here, listen up. Don’t get too excited out there. That dance is your prayer. So don’t rush it, and don’t dance how you practice. There’s only one way for an Indian man to express himself. It’s that dance that comes from all the way back there. All the way over there. You learn that dance to keep it, to use it. Whatever you got going on in your life, you don’t leave it all in here, like them players do when they go out on that field, you bring it with you, you dance it. Any other way you try to say what you really mean, it’s just gonna make you cry. Don’t act like you don’t cry. That’s what we do. Indian men. We’re crybabies. You know it. But not out there,” he says, and points to the door of the locker room.