The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

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Authors: Sherman Alexie
Tags: United States, People & Places, Juvenile Fiction, Social Issues, Native American, Adolescence
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he dropped me off right in front of my house.
    I walked inside and saw that my mother was crying.
    I often walked inside to find my mother crying.
    "What's wrong?" I asked.
    "It's your sister," she said.

    "Did she run away again?"
    "She got married."
    Wow, I was freaked. But my mother and father were absolutely freaked. Indian families
    stick together like Gorilla Glue, the strongest adhesive in the world. My mother and father both lived within two miles of where they were born, and my grandmother lived one mile from where she was born. Ever since the Spokane Indian Reservation was founded back in 1881, nobody in my family had ever lived anywhere else. We Spirits stay in one place. We are absolutely tribal.
    For good or bad, we don't leave one another. And now, my mother and father had lost two kids to the outside world.
    I think they felt like failures. Or maybe they were just lonely. Or maybe they didn't know what they were feeling.
    I didn't know what to feel. Who could understand my sister?
    After seven years of living in the basement and watching TV, after doing absolutely nothing at all, my sister decided she needed to change her life.
    I guess I'd kind of shamed her.
    If I was brave enough to go to Reardan, then she'd be brave enough to MARRY A
    FLATHEAD INDIAN AND MOVE TO MONTANA.
    "Where'd she meet this guy?" I asked my mother.
    "At the casino," she said. "Your sister said he was a good poker player. I guess he travels to all the Indian casinos in the country."
    "She married him because he plays cards?"
    "She said he wasn't afraid to gamble everything, and that's the kind of man she wanted to spend her life with."
    I couldn't believe it. My sister married a guy for a damn silly reason. But I suppose
    people often get married for damn silly reasons.
    "Is he good-looking?" I asked.
    "He's actually kind of ugly," my mother said. "He has this hook nose and his eyes are way different sizes."
    Damn, my sister had married a lopsided, eagle-nosed, nomadic poker player.
    It made me feel smaller.
    I thought I was pretty tough.
    But I'd just have to dodge dirty looks from white kids while my sister would be dodging gunfire in beautiful Montana Those Montana Indians were so tough that white people wen scared of them.
    Can you imagine a place where white people are scared of Indians and not the other way
    around?
    That's Montana.
    And my sister had married one of those crazy Indians.
    She didn't even tell our parents or grandmother or me before she left. She called Mom
    from St. Ignatius, Montana on the Flathead Indian Reservation, and said, "Hey, Mom, I'm a married woman now. I want to have ten babies and live here forever and ever."
    How weird is that? It's almost romantic .
    And then I realized that my sister was trying to LIVE a romance novel.
    Man, that takes courage and imagination. Well, it also took some degree of mental illness, too, but I was suddenly happy for her.
    And a little scared.

    Well, a lot scared.
    She was trying to live out her dream. We should have all been delirious that she'd moved out of the basement. We'd been trying to get her out of there for years. Of course, my mother and father would have been happy if she'd just gotten a part-time job at the post office or trading post, and maybe just moved into an upstairs bedroom in our house.
    But I just kept thinking that my sister's spirit hadn't been killed. She hadn't given up. This reservation had tried to suffocate her, had kept her trapped in a basement, and now she was out roaming the huge grassy fields of Montana.
    How cool!
    I felt inspired.
    Of course, my parents and grandmother were in shock. They thought my sister and I were
    going absolutely crazy.
    But I thought we were being warriors, you know?
    And a warrior isn't afraid of confrontation.
    So I went to school the next day and walked right up to Gordy the Genius White Boy.
    "Gordy," I said. "I need to talk to you."
    "I don't have time," he said. "Mr. Orcutt and I have to tie bug some PCs. Don't

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