Chapter 8: The Path Forward

“Ding-a-ling!” The school bell rings, and kids rush excitedly out of the building. Maverick grins— Friday afternoon has arrived. Now the weekend begins… and it isn’t just any weekend: it’s Homecoming Saturday, the big party of the year.

At 3:30, Maverick spots Nana—waiting near the school gate.

“Whoosh,” as Maverick steps outside, he feels the wind brush over his cheeks. Red, orange, and yellow leaves spin from the trees. The air smells like campfire and leaves.

She waves from the driver side of her old blue pickup truck. Mav hops in the back seat and buckles up.

Looking back in the rear-view mirror, Nana raises her eyebrow and asks, “well, how was school today”?

Maverick glances out the window and says, “Eh, okay. History class was weird. My teacher showed us papers that said ‘Indigenous people used to live here.’ It’s like we’re only part of the past.” Maverick adds, “We looked at the United States Citizenship Test and even on the test, they ask, ‘Who lived in America before the Europeans arrived?’ like we’re not still here.”

Nana smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She says, “Last week we talked about segregation. But we haven’t really talked about how people think Native Americans are ‘Vanishing Indians.’ That’s just a stereotype. We’re still here— living, working, just like everybody else.”

Maverick frowns. “Why do they still ask those questions like we’re gone?” Nana answers, “Sometimes people only see what they learned a long time ago. It’s up to us to show them we’re still here.”

Maverick looks down. “You told me about our ancestors not being allowed in public schools.”

Nana nods. As we talked about last week, “Virginia had laws like the Racial Integrity Act of 1924, which tried to erase Native identity by labeling Monacan people as ‘colored’ on official records. What we didn’t talk about was the that same year, the Indian Citizenship Act was passed. It granted U.S. citizenship to Native Americans—but it didn’t guarantee the right to vote. States still had the power to decide, and many—including Virginia—continued to block Native people from voting for decades. It wasn’t until 1960 that Native Americans finally gained full federal voting rights.”

Maverick presses his forehead lightly against the window, thinking.

Ahead, he notices a woman struggling to hang a banner. He sits up straighter.

“Stop, Nana!” he calls out.

Nana pulls over to the curb. Maverick jumps out of the truck and jogs over.

“Need help?” he asks.

“Could you hold the stool still?” the woman says, smiling down at him.

Maverick steadies the stool and says, grinning, “Just a Monacan here to help!”

The woman chuckles. “There she is,” she says, turning her head and nodding toward Nana. “Always making sure everyone feels welcome. Even back when people tried to push us out, she stayed—and kept showing up.”

Nana leans her head out the window and calls, “It’s just our way of reminding everyone we’re still here! We haven’t ‘vanished.’”

They all laugh.

“That’s the Monacan way!” the woman says

Maverick beams as he steadies the stool, feeling proud.

Maverick jogs back to the truck, and Nana drives them down the quiet main street.

As they drive, Nana glances over at Maverick and says, “Well, that’s one way to put the ‘Vanishing Indian’ myth to bed.”

Maverick grins. Nana smiles warmly and adds, “Maverick, never stop being you. The most authentic way to be Monacan is just being yourself. Who knows—someday, you could be both President of the United States and Chief of the Monacan Nation.”

They ride in a comfortable silence as Maverick watches the town passes by the window.

They turn off the main road, easing down a quiet lane lined with trees. The gentle tinkle of wind chimes drifts in through the open windows as they approach Nana’s house.

Nana parks the truck and turns off the engine. “Home for the weekend,” she says with a small smile.

Maverick opens his door and grabs his backpack from the floor. They walk up the porch steps together. Nana unlocks the front door, and inside, Maverick kicks off his shoes and sets his bag down. “Do I still have to do chores?” he asks, half-joking.

Nana hangs her keys by the door and looks over. “Only if you want dinner.”

Maverick groans dramatically. “Bribery? From my own grandmother?”

Nana raises an eyebrow. “Great-grandmother. And yes.”

Nana turns back to look at Maverick and smiles. “You’re lucky, dinner’s ready.”

On the table is a big pizza box—Nana’s special tradition for nights before celebrations. Maverick grabs a slice. “Pizza before Homecoming?” he grins.

 Nana nods. “Only for the helpers.”

 He takes a big bite and smiles. “Yum—definitely worth the chores.”

“Nana,” he asks, “are you making snacks for Homecoming?”

 She smiles. “Wait till tomorrow,” she says.

 He reaches across the table. “Please tell me!”

 Nana puts her hands on the table. Her face lights up and they laugh at the sauce dotting Maverick’s chin while they eat. Nana tells Maverick to wipe his face.

While wiping Maverick turns to Nana and considers, sauce dots Maverick’s chin. “Nana,” he says, wiping his mouth, “did you always know all these stories? Or did someone have to teach them to you?”

Nana looks at him for a moment. “Most of them were told to me when I was your age. I didn’t understand all of it back then, but I listened. Over time, they stayed with me.”

“Do you ever forget any?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” she says, “but the important ones come back when you need them.”

Maverick nods. “I want to remember all of them.”

“You will,” Nana says. “Just keep asking.”

Maverick asks, “Are you excited about Homecoming?”

Nana chuckles. “Of course I am. The smells, the music… but mostly, I’m excited to see all of the people coming together.”

She picks up her glass and looks at him. “Homecoming is a good time to listen. The stories float around everywhere—you just have to pay attention.”

Winking at Maverick, she adds, “Maybe you’ll even hear some stories you can carry with you to the White House someday.”

As they finish up the dinner, Maverick can’t contain his excitement for the next day. “I just can’t wait for tomorrow!” he says eagerly.

Diane looks at Maverick with amusement on her face and says, “Tomorrow is going to be a big event, and I know you’re going to love every moment of it.”

Maverick’s eyes light up. “Who else will be coming to the Homecoming? Will there be a lot of people like there were at the Powwow?”

Diane tells Maverick, “Yes! Our family and friends that we haven’t seen in months will be there. Technically, it is separate from the Nation, even though it is held at our church, but we call it a Homecoming since it is a big reunion for us. A Homecoming is special because it brings us all together to honor our history, our traditions, and our future. It’s a time to reconnect with our people, share stories, and reflect on how far we have come.”

Maverick’s face looks puzzled. “I get that, but at the Powwow, there were so many different tribes and we all got to hang out together. It’s always so much fun. Why do they come to those but not to Homecoming?”

Other Indigenous Tribes

Diane chuckles warmly. “That’s a great question, Maverick. Powwows are gatherings where many tribes come together. The Saponi, the Mashpee, and so many other tribes join us to share dances, songs, and stories. It’s a way for us to connect, to celebrate, and to support each other. Do you remember our friend Rufus, the person who plays the drums at our Powwows?”

Maverick nods his head. Diane adds, “He is Monacan like us, but he also plays the drums for different tribes as well. Just like Rufus, we all help each other out and support one another. Each tribe has its own unique traditions, but we all have a shared history of resilience and strength. Some of their dances are different from ours, and their regalia, like their traditional and sacred clothing and accessories, tells different stories, but when we come together at a Powwow, we honor both what makes us unique and what unites us. The Saponi and the Mashpee tribes have supported us for generations, and so we do the same for them.”

Maverick leans forward, eager to learn more. “What’s special about the Saponi and the Mashpee? What makes them different from us?”

Diane smiles, pleased by his curiosity. “The Saponi were originally from what is now Virginia and North Carolina. Just like us, they had to fight to keep their identity, their land, and their traditions alive. Over the years, some of them joined our ancestors, and our histories have been intertwined ever since. Many of their people moved North, like Pennsylvania or New York, but their heart remains in the lands they’ve always called home. The Saponi were known for their skilled hunting, their knowledge of herbal medicine, and their deep connection to the land. Their language was similar to ours, and many of their customs mirror our own. They, too, had to fight for recognition, for their rights, and for the preservation of their stories.”

Maverick nods, fascinated. “And what about the Mashpee?”

“The Mashpee are from far up north, in what is now Massachusetts. They are a branch of the Wampanoag people, the ones who first met the English settlers hundreds of years ago. The Mashpee have always been known for their skills as fishermen and boat builders. Their ancestors navigated the Atlantic mani: long before European ships ever arrived. Their ability to thrive in both land and ocean environments made them strong and resourceful. But instead of letting themselves be erased, they held on, just like we did. They’ve fought for their rights and their land, just as we have. Their history is one of survival, resistance, and pride. Even though they are far from us, we have maintained a bond for many years. We’ve shared songs and dances, and over time, some of our families have even become connected.”

Maverick sits back, absorbing everything. “So, we’re all connected. Even though we’re different, we’ve helped each other stay strong.”

“Exactly, my boy,” Diane said, her voice warm with pride. “That’s why it’s important to remember that being Monacan isn’t just about what’s in our history books, it’s about the relationships we’ve built, the traditions we’ve held onto, and the stories we pass down.”

Maverick feels the same pride he did when they visited Bear Mountain. Over the past few days, he’s learned so much about his culture, and even more about himself. He now understands that Homecoming wasn’t just a celebration, and their presence wasn’t just a gathering, but it was a declaration. We are still here. His people had endured, adapted, and survived, and they will continue to do so.

As Maverick thinks about everything, Nana claps her hands. “Now, enough talk for tonight! You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow, and you need your rest.”

Maverick looks at her, still feeling wide awake. “Not yet, Nana! I just have one more thing to ask. What’s your favorite part about Homecoming?”

Diane smiles, looking out the window, as if she is already looking ahead into tomorrow. “The way it brings us all together. When I see old friends, when I hear the drumbeat echo in my heart, when I taste the food that has been made with love and care for generations, it reminds me of who we are. But more than anything, I love seeing young ones like you begin to understand it all. That’s the real Yą:ti of Homecoming.”

As the sun sets, Diane prepares to leave. “Where are you going, Nana? You aren’t going to spend the Ohsi?” asks Maverick. “No, not today. I promised Mrs. Birdie I would help her with her cooking tomorrow.” Maverick knows everyone looks forward to Mrs. Birdie’s famous cooking, and it is always one of the highlights of the Homecomings and Powwows. “You go to bed, Maverick, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

As Maverick lay in bed, under his favorite green and blue dinosaur blanket, his mind was still buzzing with everything Nana had told him. He thought about the Saponi, the Mashpee, and all the other tribes who had stood beside them. He thought about the Elders, the songs, the food, and the traditions that tied them all together. He imagines the Powwow drum, steady and strong, like a heartbeat that had never stopped and never would.

Maverick closes his eyes and grins, feeling a new sense of purpose. Tomorrow, he will celebrate with his family, but beyond that, he will carry these stories forward. He has always been proud to be Monacan, but now he understands what that resilience truly feels like. Sinking into the sheets, as he feels the weight of the day settle over him, Maverick knows this is just the beginning of his path forward.