Bugz’s mom looked like an Anishinaabe princess, but she meant more to her people than a simple figurehead. She led the community as an elected Chief. Every few minutes, some member of the crowd would walk up and shake her hand. Bugz, still dancing, spun in place and returned her gaze to her parents, remembering an old story she’d heard from when they first dated. At that time, her mom worried whether she should really take Frank’s last name or whether it would sound too much like a joke.

“Chief Summer Holiday,” Bugz whispered to herself. Good choice. Her mom lived up to the cool name.

The last check beats of the song rang out across the arbor as all twenty-five young women waved their fans in the air. The drum finished and the dancers ended in synchrony, like gymnasts sticking their landings—an army of Anishinaabe women healing the nation.

CHAPTER 7

Later that night, after Bugz finished handing out gifts and prizes from her pow-wow special, she bumped into a group of young women in fancy shawl regalia—shiny dresses in bright colors adorned with brighter, shinier beadwork. Each had hair pulled back tightly into unique braided patterns. Bugz scanned their makeup.

“Omigod, what a crazy special, Bugz.” Stormy, the crew’s leader, barely looked up from her phone as she spoke. “I’ve never seen anyone give away a car for a prize in a special.”

“Well, they did once in New Town.” This correction came courtesy of Stormy’s best friend, Chalice, also speaking from behind a phone.

“But that’s different. That was a raffle. Bugz gave a car for a dance contest! I wish I danced jingle!”

“Thanks.” Bugz squirmed. “I guess…that’s the cool thing about the stuff I do online. I can do cool stuff in the real world too.”

Bugz tried to figure out what they wanted. They never spoke to her at school, since they were a few years older. Bugz glanced at her phone and immediately back to the young women standing around her. How are they all skinny? Do skinny girls hang out with each other exclusively? Bugz’s gaze lingered on their slender forms. The thought registered with her that they were the way Anishinaabe women should look. At least that’s what we look like in Pocahontas and the movies. Bugz studied the earth in front of her, lost in thought. You never see a chubby Cherokee princess in cartoons.

“Wow, Bugz, you’re so pretty in the ’Verse!” Stormy smiled.