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

Even if it's a little gay."
    I wanted to cuss at him. I wanted to tell him that I thought I was being courageous, and that I was trying to fix my broken friendship with Rowdy, and that I missed him, and if that was gay, then okay, I was the gayest dude in the world. But I didn't say any of that.
    "Okay, thank you," I said instead. "And Happy Thanksgiving."
    Rowdy's dad closed the door on me. I walked away. But I slopped at the end of the
    driveway and looked back. I could see Rowdy in the window of his upstairs bedroom. He was holding my cartoon. He was watching me walk away. And I could see the sadness in his face. I just knew he missed me, too.
    I waved at him. He gave me the finger.
    "Hey, Rowdy!" I shouted. "Thanks a lot!"
    He stepped away from the window. And I felt sad for a moment. But then I realized that
    Rowdy may have flipped me off, but he hadn't torn up my cartoon. As much as he hated me, he probably should have ripped it to pieces. That would have hurt my feelings more than just about anything I can think of. But Rowdy still respected my cartoons. And so maybe he still respected me a little bit.

Hunger Pains
    Our history teacher, Mr. Sheridan, was trying to teach us something about the Civil War.
    But he was so boring and monotonous that he was only teaching us how to sleep with our eyes open.
    I had to get out of there, so I raised my hand.
    "What is it, Arnold?" the teacher asked.
    "I have to go the bathroom."
    "Hold it."
    "I can't."
    I put on my best If-I-Don't-Go-Now-I'm-Going-To-Explode face.
    "Do you really have to?" the teacher asked.
    I didn't have to go at first, but then I realized that yes, I did have to go.
    "I have to go really bad," I said.
    "All right, all right, go, go."
    I headed over to the library bathrooms because they're usually a lot cleaner than the ones by the lunchroom.
    So, okay, I'm going number two, and I'm sitting on the toilet, and I'm concentrating. I'm in my Zen mode, trying to lake this whole thing a spiritual experience. I read once that Gandhi was way into his own number two. I don't know if he I old fortunes or anything. But I guess he thought the condition and quality of his number two revealed the condition and quality of his life.
    Yeah, I know, I probably read too many books.
    And probably WAY too many books about number two.
    But it's all important, okay? So I finish, flush, wash my lands, and then stare in the mirror and start popping zits. I'm all quiet and concentrating when I hear this weird noise coming from the other side of the wall.
    That's the girls' bathroom.
    And I hear that weird noise again.
    Do you want to know what it sounds like?
    It sounds like this:
    ARGGHHHHHHHHSSSSSPPPPPPGGGHHHHHHH
    AAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHAGGGGHH!
    It sounds like somebody is vomiting.
    Nope.
    It sounds like a 747 is landing on a runway of vomit.
    I'm planning on heading back to the classroom for more scintillating lessons from the
    history teacher. But then I hear that noise again.
    ARGGGHHHHHHHHSGHHSLLLSKSSSHHSDKFDJSABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRST
    UVWXYZ!
    Okay, so somebody might have the flu or something. Maybe they're having, like, kidney
    failure in there. I can't walk away.
    So I knock on the door. The girls' bathroom door.
    "Hey," I say. "Are you okay in there?"
    "Go away!"
    It's a girl, which makes sense, since it is the girls' bathroom
    "Do you want me to get a teacher or something?" I ask through the bathroom door.

    "I said, GO AWAY!"
    I'm not dumb. I can pick up on subtle clues.
    So I walk away, but something pulls me back. I don't know what it is. If you're romantic, you might think it was destiny.
    So destiny and me lean against the wall and wait.
    The vomiter will eventually have to come out of the bathroom, and then I'll know that
    she's okay.
    And pretty soon, she does come out.
    And it is the lovely Penelope, and she's chomping hard on cinnamon gum. She'd
    obviously tried to cover the smell of vomit with the biggest piece of cinnamon gum in the world.
    But it doesn't work. She just