With that announcement from the emcee, the next drum group picked up a new song, this one faster than the one Bugz had danced to, and Waawaate kicked his legs out from underneath himself, spinning to his left and causing the long fringes on his regalia to whirl around. The drummers hit a loud honor beat and Waawaate stopped on a dime, paused for the fringes to complete their swing and immediately spun in the opposite direction. The crowd roared its approval. Bugz glanced over at the fancy shawl dancers and saw they all had their phones out. They were livestreaming her brother. I wonder how many followers they have?

As the honor beats struck, Waawaate worked himself lower to the ground, almost doing the splits as he rolled his shoulders in time with the rhythm. Halfway through the downbeats he popped up, spun around, and, this time facing the opposite direction, worked himself low again.

Bugz looked to her father and noticed a twinkle in his eyes.

“Hey, Dad, you crying?”

Frank paused for a second.

“Guess I am…”

Bugz loved her dad’s honesty. She knew her father had played an alpha male role in his youth: all-star athlete, valedictorian, and, according to some rumors Bugz heard, maybe a little rough around the edges at times. But now she saw a middle-aged man playing a supporting role to his wife’s leadership ambitions, and apparently in touch with his emotions too.

“I guess it’s just nice to see someone you raised up from a baby learn this way of life. And do it so well.”

Waawaate strode in place, running-man style. Spectators sprinted from the bleachers and laid twenty- and fifty-dollar bills at his feet. In response, he kicked the money away with his moccasins and the crowd roared even louder. Even more people ran out to lay money down.

“Watching you kids dance makes me feel like our culture is going to survive another generation.” Frank paused to soak up the sight of his son killing it on the dance floor. “Those are still my moves, though.”

Bugz admired her dad’s efforts to bring the conversation back to a lighthearted note. Still, she couldn’t resist.

“Dad,” she said with a huge grin on her face, “you could never dance that good.”

Bugz felt her dad pulling her closer to him. As the drum group cut off its beat unexpectedly, Waawaate ended his dance in perfect time to the trick stop of the music. To call attention to his mastery of the song, he struck a pose, both arms pointing to the left, like a professional wrestler vamping for the crowd.

“Hiii chaaa!!!” Waawaate yelled to the sky.

The crowd roared louder than they had all evening.

CHAPTER 10