Summer nodded again. “Here.” She took the eagle-bone whistle necklace from around her neck and waved it above the rocks. “I’m going to give you this to protect you while you’re going through this challenging time. It’s an eagle whistle.” Summer handed it to Frank, who handed it to Waawaate, and so on down the line to Feng.

“Put it on if you want.” Bugz’s mom gestured as though she were presenting a medal to an Olympian. “You’re supposed to earn that through an act of bravery or at the Sundance—our most powerful healing ceremony.” Summer smiled. “I’m giving it to you now because it took bravery to show your emotions like you did tonight.”

Bugz’s father spoke again. “I’m going to sing a song. Blow on that whistle four times, and then I’ll start.” Liumei translated.

Feng blew the whistle softly, a light airy sound escaping the translucent yellow bone. Waawaate nudged him and whispered for Feng to blow harder. He pursed his lips and emptied his lungs. The tone flipped from that of a flute to the high, piercing sound of an eagle screaming in mid-flight. Three shrieks.

“Aho!” the others in the sweat exclaimed. Frank kicked off a song and all the Anishinaabe people joined in, punctuating the beautiful traditional melody.

CHAPTER 33

Though the hearts of everyone in the Sweat Lodge filled with feelings of warmth and happiness, Bugz felt cold. And it was not just because she sat outside the lodge. She did not sing along, even though she knew the words to the song. She sunk back into her blanket. This guy cries and is treated like a hero.

Bugz’s jealousy roiled inside. There was more at stake here than just the eagle whistle, as beautiful as it was and as long as she had coveted it for. Bugz found herself wondering how Feng had come to deserve this attention from her parents. It’s because he’s a boy. Her jealousy blinded her to his suffering. Perhaps her ostracism justified her feelings.

She refused to look into the doorway. Instead, she compiled a growing list in her head of all the times her parents had failed to notice her suffering. Or her success in reviving their culture. Why don’t they make an eagle whistle for me? She looked to Feng, who at that very moment had a tear running down his cheek as the others sang. Lucky.

Bugz wondered why she’d never received the motivational speech about walking in two worlds. She was the one who had to go back and forth between hating herself and feeling okay each and every time she picked up her phone. Skinny. Fat. Talented. Lucky. Virtual. Real. The song finished and everyone shouted in celebration.