Читать книгу The Creator's Game - Art Coulson - Страница 11

Travis flopped down on his bed. He leaned over the edge and grabbed a tattered copy of The Sandman: Dream Country from his floor. He read for a long time, lying propped up on his pillows. He no longer heard the clatter of dishes and his mom and grandma talking in hushed voices.

When he got tired, Travis laid the comic on his night-stand and sat up to kick off his shoes. As the sneakers clunked to the floor, his grandpa stepped out of the shadows near his closet. He sat down on the edge of Travis’s bed and touched the boy’s face. Grandpa always smelled like strong coffee and Old Spice aftershave.

“What’s this I hear about you wanting to quit lacrosse? Don’t you know that game is in our blood as Anishinaabe people?”

Travis nodded his head. “I know, Grandpa, but I stink at it.”

“You know why we play the game, don’t you? Baaga’adowe is more than a game. It’s the Creator’s Game—we play for his amusement,” Grandpa explained. “Indian people see lacrosse as a spiritual ceremony, like a prayer, a song, or a dance. We play it when people are sick, like medicine. We play it when we have something to celebrate. And also we play it to have fun. Now pull those covers up, shut off your light, and get some sleep. I’ll see you soon, Waabooz.”