The Demon Drum

“There I was, facing the most terrifying moment I’d ever encountered in my 13 years of life, and all I wanted to do was run. But I couldn’t. Everyone was counting on me. I wouldn’t let them down. I took a deep breath and did the only thing I could do—”

“What’s the big deal, Nizhoni?” Dad asked as he pulled into the drop-off lane in front of school. “You’ve never cared about being late before.”

“Ouch, Dad. No need to call me out like that. Today is special. Davery’s dad is going to chaperone our trip to the All-Nations Assembly powwow. The whole Ancestor Club is going.”

I went to the library to meet up with the other club members—Davery, Maya, Darcy, Kody, and the new girl, Toni. Toni had it out for me and was constantly trying to start a fight. We’d let her into the Ancestor Club because it was open to everyone at school, but I don’t know why she even bothered to attend.

The All-Nations Assembly was in the arena where they hold all kinds of events, from rodeos to rock concerts. Outside the arena, in what was normally a parking lot, there were thousands of people, both Native and non-Native. Everywhere we looked, dancers were dressed in regalia—ribbons and feathers and custom beading and embroidery in a rainbow of hues.

And underneath it all was the constant beat of a drum. It was thick and heavy, and everywhere. It was as if the powwow itself was one huge living organism, connected through this pulse.

“OK, kids,” Davery’s dad said. “I’ll save us some seats inside. Find me when you’re ready.”

We wandered toward the concert stage, all of us chattering excitedly.

“I’m definitely getting a T-shirt,” Kody said. “Maybe one that celebrates my Ojibwe culture.”

“I’ve never been to a powwow before,” Toni grumbled. “My dad says Senecas don’t traditionally powwow.”

“Navajos don’t traditionally powwow either,” Davery said. “But it’s really become an Intertribal celebration, with people from all Native Nations participating.” 

Toni just kept walking, her face scrunched up like she was sucking on a sour pickle.

I wanted to ask her why she’d bothered to come if she was going to be so negative, but as I opened my mouth, Davery shook his head.

I looked toward the stage. I could see a DJ setting up and a woman assembling a drum kit.

“That’s MC ThundarKat,” Darcy explained, “and that’s DJ KareBare. She’s Apache like me.” The women were arguing. Their voices were pitched too low for us to hear, but they were clearly upset.

“I’m bored,” Maya said. “I’m going to go check out the vendors while we’re waiting.”

A few notes grated through the air. I threw my hands over my ears.

“I thought you liked hip-hop,” Darcy chided me.

“I do, but that’s not hip-hop. That’s . . . cats screeching.”

Another off-note twang cut through the air. “Or nails on a chalkboard!”

It had sounded like a great idea, but now that I was lurking among hundreds of actual dancers waiting to go in, I felt like a fool. I was going to make a fool of myself in front of thousands of people.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” said a voice over the loudspeakers, “it’s time for the Intertribal dance! Anyone who would like to join us, come on down!”

It was too late to back out now. We took our places in a huge circle. I gulped noisily and looked around. From the stands, thousands of eyes stared back at me.

The expectant silence around me was so loud it hurt my ears. The heat of the spotlight scorched my face. Sweat slicked my hair to my forehead.

Wait for it, I whispered to myself. Just when I thought I might pass out from nerves . . . the drums started.

Thump, thump, thump.

It was the powwow drum, the heartbeat of the dance. Then . . . I heard it! This was no ordinary drumbeat, but one that went wrong at the end, like someone was dragging something heavy and rotten across the skin of the drum.

Thump-ksh, thump-ksh, thump-ksh.

“Okay, demon drum,” I murmured to myself. “Where are you?”

I took a deep breath and did the only thing I could do.

I . . . danced.

I watched the women around me, each one supple in her own way, and I gradually found my rhythm. I shuffled my feet, grounding myself to Mother Earth, and kept my arms tight and my body loose. Powwow dancing has various purposes, depending on the dance, but it’s always about power and endurance, strength and grace. And to my surprise, I found that I wasn’t half bad. I was beginning to understand why people found this kind of dancing meaningful.

I looked over to see the Ancestor Club kids all dancing into position, each one angling toward their designated drum. I set aside self-consciousness and focused on getting close to my target.

The drums were massive—oversize rawhide-covered cylinders on wooden stands with nine big men seated around them. Each man had a drumstick that he beat against the hide in rhythm as he sang.

I had briefed the team on what to listen for: that swishing, rotten sound at the end of what should have been a crisp, clean drum strike.

Davery moved close to his drum. He listened carefully, and he made eye contact with every guy sitting around the instrument. After a moment he looked over at me and shook his head.

One down, five to go.

Next up was Maya. I waited for a yes or no . . . and it was a no.

Darcy and Kody followed with the same results. That left only two drums—mine and the one that would have been Toni’s responsibility to check if she hadn’t bailed. As if my thoughts had conjured her, Toni danced past me. She looked over her shoulder at me and said, “I think this is silly, but my dad said I should be a team player sometimes.”

As she got closer to the drum, she stumbled over her feet. She tried to find the rhythm again, but it was like the drum wouldn’t let her. Did it know she was there to expose it?

Then it happened.

The drum started to transform.

The stretched skin started to bubble and roll, as if something inside the hollow body was trying to force its way out. The leather strips that crisscrossed around the base separated into two sinewy arms, the ends fraying into six-fingered hands. The wooden stand elongated into two legs attached to a barrel-shaped body. And the skin cover bunched and reformed into a pair of shoulders, a neck, and a head in the shape of a deer’s skull.

The creature reached for Toni with its rawhide arms. Its fingers grazed her hair, and she screamed.

I gave up all pretense of dancing and ran.

I slid toward the beast on my knees, grabbing a drumstick that had fallen to the ground when the singers had backed away in horror, and I came to my feet swinging.

Bam! I struck the deer/human/drum monster on its back.

Thump-ksh!

I swung again, this time whacking the monster in the side. But the blow made the ugly sound reverberate through the arena even more.

“I don’t think hitting it is going to work!” Davery shouted as he joined me. “It’s a drum. Beating it just makes it play more.”

“Then how do we stop it?” I asked, feeling desperate. The thing was still half-formed, but its deer face was getting more distinct. I could see a long snout with two black nostrils, deceptively delicate ears that seemed to home in on my location, and two eyes, black as bottomless pits, blinking at me like a newborn fawn’s—if a newborn fawn had razor-sharp claws and teeth and poisonous heartbeats. I knew instinctively that once the demon drum reached its final form, it would be impossible to defeat.

Maya joined us, a drumstick in her hand too. Alongside her were Kody and Darcy.

“Where’s Toni?” I shouted, looking around frantically.

“I guess it’s just us,” Davery said as he watched the rest of the dancers flee. “It’s starting to look hungry.”

“Maybe it’s thirsty!” someone shouted.

We all turned. Toni had come back with a blanket draped over her shoulders. In her hand was a water bottle with a squirt top. Toni squeezed the bottle and a stream of water arched through the air, soaking the drum. She drenched its wooden body and saturated its rawhide skin completely. Then she threw down the bottle and whipped off the blanket. She waved it in front of the creature, fanning it.

The demon drum made a pitiful sound, flat and tiny, and we watched in fascination as it began to contract. Its once menacing arms coiling into its body, the wood frame of its trunk warping in double time, the skin wrinkling like a raisin. It became smaller and smaller until it was a miniature version of the original. I grabbed the blanket from Toni and threw it over the drum. Once I was sure it couldn’t bite me, I wrapped it up tight. Then I—

“Wait,” Mac said, interrupting. “You mean it didn’t eat anyone, or even bite you? Did it at least drool poisonous venom on you?”

“You didn’t see Nizhoni’s dancing,” Toni said dryly. “That was pretty dangerous.”

That was actually a good joke. “I never asked how you knew getting the drum wet would stop it,” I said.

“It was the water and then the blanket,” she said. “Rawhide always shrinks when it dries.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Something your dad told you?”

She looked sheepish but nodded.

We both laughed.

OK, maybe she wasn’t so bad. And maybe I’d been the one looking for a fight this whole time when I should have been looking for a friend.

“Hey,” I said. “If you ever want to help fight another monster, I could use someone with your quick thinking.”

Toni grinned. I looked over at Davery, and he was smiling too.

“What did the crowd think of that drum-deer thing?” Mac asked. “I wish I could have seen it. . . .”

“Luckily, everyone thought it was just part of the show,” said Davery.

“So did you bring anything back for me?” Mac asked.

“I sure did.” I pulled an object from my book bag. It was swaddled in a blanket. “I brought you a drum.”