The Drums of Change by Janette Oke Page B

Silver Fox uphold the dignity of their people.

    From then on Running Fawn allowed herself to be drawn into the games and physical activities. The girls soon realized that whenever she played, she played well and played to win. This was a matter that caused discord when they played against one another in their own schoolyard, but changed quickly whenever they played against another school. Then Running Fawn was not just pushed to the front and cheered on, she was expected to win for the student body. Then the honor was not hers—it was theirs. Running Fawn found the whole thing confusing. How could girls who normally turned their backs when she entered a room suddenly begin cheering loudly when she competed against other schools? It did not make a bit of sense to the young Indian girl.
    Nor did she understand their anger when she occasionally failed to win one of those competitions.
    “What happened? Why didn’t you try harder? You could have won.” These comments came her way on the playing field or in the quietness of the dorm later that night.
    Running Fawn soon learned that though she may not have sought it, she had taken on the responsibility of representing their school in all sporting events. But inwardly she was not representing them, she was representing her people. When she won, it was for Blackfoot honor. When she failed to win, it was not because she had not given it her best. She would willingly die before she would disgrace her Indian blood—her heritage.
    She did not attempt to explain this, for they would not have understood anyway.

    “You did really good.”
    The words were spoken by Marilee, a girl who shared Running Fawn’s table at mealtime and dorm room at night. Apart from necessary polite exchanges, they had not spoken to each other, though the girl had offered tentative smiles on a few occasions. Marilee seemed as shy and withdrawn as Running Fawn herself, so the few brief words of affirmation after the track meet came as a suprise to the young Blackfoot.
    Running Fawn’s eyes lifted to the blue eyes before her. She saw the uncertain smile flicker briefly. She nodded in recognition of the compliment but did not respond further.
    She was not sure of the meaning in those few words. Was the white girl simply making a statement—or offering friendship?
    Running Fawn nodded again and paused for a moment to try to better understand the approach. Marilee did not move away.
    “Would you like to play catch after supper?” the white girl asked, still in the same shyly quiet voice.
    Running Fawn shook her head. “I have to work in the kitchen,” she answered, relieved for the excuse. A look of disappointment filled the blue eyes.
    As Running Fawn moved away she puzzled over the brief encounter. The girl seemed genuinely friendly. Perhaps, just perhaps, she should have been more responsive.
    But even as the thought crossed her mind, she felt herself withdraw. She wasn’t sure of the ways of the white people. Of the motives. She must be guarded. Must not reach out too eagerly. It was wise to be cautious.

    That evening Marilee offered Running Fawn a cookie from the box her mother had sent. Marilee had also offered a cookie to each of the other girls in the dorm room, and they exclaimed and smacked their lips in appreciation. Running Fawn inwardly longed to taste the treat, but she shook her head and retreated silently to her little bed and picked up the book she had brought from the library. As she did each night, she would read until it was time to turn the lights out.
    She was quite aware of the good-natured chatter that went on in the room, but she tried hard to block it out.
    When she peeked around the opened book, she saw the other girls lounging about the room in their long nighties as they chattered about frivolous things—all except for Marilee. Marilee was also already in her bed, her own book opened before her.

    Over the days that followed, Running Fawn was invited to share various