I Still Wish

was popular in high school. At various points, I was class president, student body officer, captain of the basketball team, and prom royalty. But I was also one of only five Native Americans in a white school. I was popular and a member of a historically oppressed racial minority.

I didn’t want to be a social oppressor, so I became friends with members of every clique: stoners, jocks, nerds, farm kids, band members, military brats. There was one boy (I’ll call him Edgar) who was picked on by nearly everybody, but not by me. I had dinner at his house a few times. Once, I slept over because of a snowstorm. We weren’t close, not really, but we were friends.

During lunch hour one day, Edgar was tossing a football with another boy. From the bleachers, where I was sitting with a few other popular kids, I watched a mean little stoner (I’ll call him Darren) run toward Edgar. Jesus, I thought, he’s going to blindside Edgar. I stood to shout out a warning, but I hesitated. I don’t know why, but I silently watched as Edgar, catching a pass in midair, got tackled.

Darren and his stoner friends laughed uproariously. Crying with pain, Edgar struggled to his feet. He was big and strong; he could have stomped Darren into the ground. But he just walked away. He didn’t have the self-confidence to defend himself.

Ever the warrior of social justice, I jumped out of the bleachers and ran toward Darren. I planned to blindside him just as he’d blindsided Edgar. But right before contact, I stopped. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t intentionally hurt somebody. It was the correct decision, I suppose. But to this day, twenty-four years later, I still wish I’d blasted Darren. I still wish I’d made him cry in public. I still wish that my need for vengeance had been stronger than my desire for peace.

Sherman Alexie’s latest book is The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (Little).