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THE INDIANS

“Lance!”

His mother called, “A rest stop is coming up, do you need to go?”

“No, I’m straight,” Lance said back. They were on their way to Indiana. They had been moving there from Tennessee. Lance peered into his sister, Jessica’s diary, while she was writing. All he could read was, “Why do we have to move, and not stay? All our friends are here, and what about my boyfriend—–. Oh shucks!” He thought he almost saw the whole sentence.

“Looks like we’ll be there around 4:00 in the morning. You’ll be able to go to school in two days,” his mother said. Lance was almost certain his life was ruined.

“Can I have an Indian when we get to Indiana?” asked Peter, his little brother.

“You are so stupid. Just because it’s called Indiana doesn’t mean Indians are roaming around. Besides, you can’t purchase a human,” Lance said. “They’re not human, they’re Indians! Isn’t that right Jessicaaaa?”

“Not really,” Jessica said, responding. And there’s only one “A” in my name. Why do you pronounce it like there’s ten?” said Jessica. Peter just got a weird thrown-down feeling. “I am still getting an Indian,” said Peter.

“Whatever you think,” Lance said, getting annoyed. When Lance fell asleep, everyone else did too except their father. Soon enough, he woke up, and they were finally in Indiana. Peter bounced up and down saying, “Where are the Indians? Where are the Indians? Unload my bunk bed, get my toy chest, and all my toys in my room now! I can’t go to sleep without all of it!”

Father sighed, “Then you must sleep on the mattress on the floor with Mother and me.” Peter carelessly dashed in and fell asleep on the carpet in the living room. Once Lance was asleep, his brother began screaming, “Tall Chief, Keen Eye, and Bold One! No! Keen Eye, don’t! Tall Chief, don’t hurt me! Oh no, Bold One!” Lance dashed downstairs and it was only Peter in a dream. He claimed it was Indians.

Days passed and still, it was these three people: “Indians.” Every night these dream continued. When his mom took him to a doctor, he said Peter had some weird diagnosis with some funny kind of name. The doctor gave Peter chewy gummies and some syrupy medicine. This worked, the first night, but the night after, his dreams continued. No one knew if Indians really lived in Indiana, but Peter was certain of it. No one would have called a place, “Indiana” if it didn’t have Indians!

The Waynedale News Staff

Lauren Britt

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