Free The Bones of Paradise by Jonis Agee Page B

children, or acted foolishly and lost them. The animals weren’t much better. She hated these stories. As she looked across the room, her eye caught on Lily, Rose’s daughter, whose small round face was filled with enthusiasm as she raised her hand, something that almost never happened among the Indian children at the Rosebud Reservation school.
    Lily burst out, unable to contain herself. “Our spider is smarter than the one living with the flea in your story, Mrs. Bennett. Iktomi is powerful. He does things backwards to fool you. He can trick you, too.”
    The other children glanced nervously at each other. The use of Lakota language was forbidden, and they must never speak of their old ways. Willow, a tall, reedy girl with bowed legs, leaned over and whispered to Lily, who blushed and dropped her eyes.
    â€œWhat a wonderful creature! Can you tell me about any others?” Dulcinea glanced at Crooked Tail, seated next to last in the rowby the door. He opened and closed his mouth indecisively, and his hand fluttered at his shoulder. When she nodded at him, he spoke so softly she had to move closer to hear.
    â€œRabbit Boy. Hero,” he said, his hand collapsing on the desk with a soft thump.
    â€œ Wagnuka, red-headed woodpecker,” Sarah Sweetwater said. Dulcinea looked at the girl seated across from Crooked Tail. She had spent the entire year in silence, but now spoke clearly and confidently. Her large eyes made her thin face seem narrow and she kept her lips closed to hide the fact that her baby teeth had never fallen out and now crowded her larger ones. Her cousin, Lost Bird, had been adopted or bought by General Colby after Wounded Knee, depending on which story one believed. She was taken to Colby’s home in Beatrice, Nebraska, and raised by a white family. Sarah’s aunt never recovered from the shock of the killings at Wounded Knee or losing the child. This past summer, Mrs. Colby tried to enroll her adopted daughter with the Cheyenne River Agency for full tribal rights, including an allotment of land.
    â€œDon’t forget kangi the crow and the turtle keya, ” Billy Blue Horse said in his distinct high, clipped voice.
    â€œ Ptan and capa, ” a voice called out. It was the tiny, sickly Otter girl who sat in the front, as far from the windows as possible to stay warm. Dulcinea turned and smiled at her, and the girl said, “Wakan Tanka,” in an awed whisper, her face alight as she glanced shyly at the other children, who grew quiet, caution in their eyes. A couple of the oldest watched for Dulcinea’s reaction. She had heard the words before and knew they were sacred, a reference to the great mystery, the creating power of the Lakota people. She closed her eyes and nodded.
    An angry male voice said, “Hestovatohkeo’o.” It was Stone Road, a fourteen-year-old who was held back for not learning his numbers and letters. He spent most days locked in the cloakroom or working in the kitchen, punishment for using Lakota or practicing his religion. The Indian agent had tried punishing the families of children like himby withholding food allocations and other supplies, but in his case it did no good. This was his last year in school. He was one of the children Dulcinea had tried to reach, to tutor privately, but it didn’t work. In a way, she was relieved he wouldn’t return in the fall.
    â€œAnd who is that?” she asked in a tired voice.
    â€œDouble Face. The second one grows on the back of his head. Make eye contact, you die!” The boy smiled and opened his hands while the other children shifted uncomfortably and whispered to each other.
    â€œYour fairy tales have anyone that powerful?” he demanded.
    She was about to answer, then closed her mouth and looked at her students—dressed in plain cotton clothing, hair shorn, lacking ornament as if they had taken the vows of a strict Christian order—and shook her head. It was