I study the sheet of paper and its powerful markings carefully. Each symbol is clearly different from every other one. They look as if they would be easy to draw, as well, even by someone not as great an artist as Sequoyah.

“Has my sister learned how to use these?” I ask.

My father nods. “It took her some time, but she is perfect at them now. She can both write and read them. Watch.”

He turns to my little sister. “Are you ready?”

Ahyokah nods, the smile on her face even bigger than before.

“Then go outside and wait for me to call you.”

She walks out the door and sits down on the top step, her back still visible but out of earshot.

“Now,” my father says, “whisper something slowly to me.”

I lean close. “My name is Uwohali. I am the son of Sequoyah. I am sorry I thought my father was crazy. My little sister knows more than I do.”

“Good,” my father says, the pen in his hands moving as smoothly across the paper as a fish swimming through clear water, pausing only when he dips the goose quill into the ink. I am not whispering all that slowly, but the symbols easily keep up with my words.

“Is that all?” my father asks.

“Yes, no, wait. Write this on the other side.” I whisper another few words that bring a smile to Sequoyah’s face and a chuckle from Sally Guess, who has now come to stand behind his shoulder. He turns the paper over to the other side, adds more symbols there, and then puts down the pen.

“Come back in,” my father calls.

Ahyokah darts in, as quickly as Wesa catching sight of a mouse. She takes the paper from my father’s hand and reads it aloud, saying exactly what was written on the front of the page.

“‘My little sister knows more than I do,’” she reads. Ahyokah looks up at me, a smug smile on her face. “Yes, I certainly do,” she says.

“There is more,” I say. “Look at the back.”

Ahyokah turns the sheet over. The self-satisfied look on her face turns into a gasp as she drops the paper to swat at her right shoulder.

“Oh!” she says. “Oh! Uwohali, you are a bad big brother. There is NOT a big black spider on my right shoulder!”

She pokes me in the stomach with her hard little fist. I hug her as we both dissolve into laughter, joined by my father and Sally Guess.

Within this family I cannot think of a time when I have felt happier. But I know there is one thing that will make me happier still. When we have all stopped laughing, I pick up the first sheet of paper, the one paper marked with those eighty-six perfectly drawn symbols that stand for the sounds in our beautiful language.

“Will you teach me?” I ask my father.