Free Dakota Dream by JAMES W. BENNETT Page B

shrugged. “You can do anything you want, but it’s a waste of time. Saberhagen says my moccasins are against the school dress code.”
    She wanted to know where she could read the school dress code, so I told her it was supposedly in the student handbook.
    â€œIf you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow your copy,” she said.
    â€œI don’t mind. You want it now?”
    â€œNot right now, just get it for me before I leave. While we’re at it here, would you mind telling me what happened Sunday morning?”
    â€œSunday morning?”
    â€œAt church.”
    â€œOh, that.” I laughed. “That’s a joke, that was nothing.”
    â€œMrs. Grice didn’t think it was nothing. She was upset about it.”
    This was getting on my nerves. “That’s Mrs. Grice’s favorite game. Making something out of nothing.”
    â€œFloyd, please just tell me what happened. I’d like to hear your side of it.” I could see Mrs. Grice looking at us from her window. I had this thought, that besides her usual disapproval of me, she was probably disapproving of Barb’s smoking.
    Anyway, I summed up the give-and-take between me and the Reverend Braithwaite. For a conclusion I said, “I really didn’t mean to cause him any grief, but he asked. All I really wanted to do was swap a few stories about miracles. But he came unglued, and once he got his teeth in it, he wouldn’t let go.”
    â€œYou really love Indians, don’t you?” Barb said.
    I had to think a minute. “I’d have to say I feel connected to the Dakota; I believe my destiny is locked in with them. Whether or not love has anything to do with it, I couldn’t say.”
    â€œWhen you say destiny, what do you mean?”
    She seemed sincerely interested, so I said, “I believe that you come back in another life many times. In some of these lives, you get off the track, which means you are separated from your true destiny. When you’re off the track, if you don’t reflect on the inner person that you are, you will spend your life uptight and out of touch.”
    â€œYou mean like reincarnation,” she said. “I’ve got a hamster at home. Do you think he was once Henry the Eighth or Joan of Arc?”
    She said it in a certain way that I could tell she wasn’t being smart-ass. “No, you don’t come back as a dog or a cat; all your lives are human lives. I wrote a story about it once.”
    â€œWhy don’t you give me a summary of the story?”
    It was unusual for somebody to ask me this type of question, but she still seemed sincere about it, so I said, “There was this guy named Galsworthy. His destiny was to be a plumber, and he should have known it, because he liked to fool around with fixtures in his house, especially leaky faucets and running toilets. But he ignored all the signs; all he wanted was to be a rich and powerful executive. He ended up hooked on cocaine and booze, and jumping out of a tall building.”
    She had a smile on her face. “Maybe you could use that story for your contest.”
    I shrugged. “It’s a possibility. I’ve got lots of outlines. Anyway, you can spend lots of your lives in misery if you never get in touch with your destiny.”
    â€œDoes this come from Indian research?”
    â€œNot really. Indian religion is not big into past and future lives. It’s basically my own view.”
    She was laughing. “No offense, Floyd, but it does sound a little weird.”
    â€œLet’s put it this way. It’s weird enough that I’m on probation.”
    â€œCome on, lighten up. That’s not what I mean.”
    I knew she wasn’t putting me down, but I was trying to make a point. “It’s weird or not weird, depending on how you look at it. One thing I’ve noticed about beliefs is, if a lot of people believe in a thing, it’s not considered