The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
"My name is Junior," I said. "And my name is Arnold. It's Junior and Arnold. I'm both."
I felt like two different people inside of one body.
No, I felt like a magician slicing myself in half, with Junior living on the north side of the Spokane River and Arnold living on the south. (8.72-8.74)
Traveling between Reardan and Wellpinit, between the little white town and the reservation, I always felt like a stranger.
I was half Indian in one place and half white in the other.
It was like being Indian was my job, but it was only a part-time job. And it didn't pay well. (17.1-17.3)
"The people at home," I said. "A lot of them call me an apple."
"Do they think you're a fruit or something?" he asked.
"No, no," I said. "They call me an apple because they think I'm red on the outside and white on the inside."
"Ah, so they think you're a traitor."