By AJ Eversole

Today we welcome author Byron Graves (Ojibwe/Lakota) whose debut novel, Rez Ball (Heartdrum, 2023) won the William C. Morris Award, the American Indian Youth Literature Award and multiple student-choice state awards. His new book, Medicine Wheels, publishes June 2 from Heartdrum.

What drew you to explore skateboarding culture after the success of Rez Ball? How does skating on the rez differ from basketball culture there?

After Rez Ball, I knew I wanted to tell a parallel, but opposite Indigenous sports story. Basketball is so loved and celebrated, and being a successful student athlete can feel like being a rockstar. Even though skateboarding is respected, it still feels like it sort of has a misfit, counterculture, punk-rock vibe to it. There are no gymnasiums packed full of fans cheering on a skater, no leniency at school or with anyone else. Skateboarders aren’t really celebrated or adored the same way. I wanted to tell a story through that lens, and show the beauty found in loving something that no one else celebrates or cares about except for you.

Bryce is learning to ride like his late father. How does this father-son connection through skateboarding compare to the brother relationship in Rez Ball?

With Rez Ball, it was intense in a different way since it was his sibling, and in real time where the teammates and the community were still mourning a loss.

Medicine Wheels explores the mourning process of a parent from an almost exclusively internal perspective, and how it evolves over the years. How we can always find ways to connect to our loved ones that we’ve lost.

Bryce starts the summer with no parents, no phone, and only the clothes on his back. What was important to you about showing this kind of instability alongside his athletic journey?

I know a lot of youth from my rez who unfortunately face a lot of unfair unknowns and turbulence. My intention with Medicine Wheels was to give those kids a story where they can see someone battling a lot of similar challenges. Bryce finds his lighthouse in his love for his fledgling skateboarding skills, the positive escapism it grants him, and the ever growing confidence it gives him.

From personal experience, during dark times, I know it’s important to have something you love to do. Embrace whatever that passion and joy is, always.

Can you talk about the meaning behind Medicine Wheels? How does the concept of the medicine wheel connect to Bryce’s journey?

Skateboarding becomes Bryce’s sanctuary. The skatepark becomes his place to heal. But that includes the hard work, commitment, discipline and most importantly, all the fun that it takes for Bryce to gain new tricks and develop his skills. It’s all part of a connected process. I wanted to show that a passion, a goal, our hopes and dreams can give us a north star to pursue, to uplift us, and keep us on a healthier path in life. But there is a meaningful beauty in the work; there is a deep pride that you can carry with you for life. I believe that knowing you wanted something, so you fought for it, learned about it, worked at it, and saw the improvement, that is a medicine in and of itself.

You’ve mentioned skateboarding is one of your own passions. How did your personal experience skating inform Bryce’s story and the skateboarding scenes?

I believe that the basketball action and stories in Rez Ball resonated so well because I had played basketball. I’m a big believer in the age old, ‘write what you know’ writing advice. I had always loved skateboarding, as a fan, and had spent countless hours watching skateboard videos and playing the Tony Hawk Pro Skater videogame, all the while daydreaming about how cool it would be to skate.

When the premise of Medicine Wheels came to me, I knew I needed to at least have a fundamental understanding of what it felt like to learn, to zoom down a ramp, and yes, to slam on the cement. But before I knew it, I went from dabbling to better tell a story, to falling in love with it, and learning and enjoying it in deeper and more meaningful ways than I had ever imagined. So much of my time being brand new on a board to nailing those first tricks is shared in Bryce’s parallel journey.

Both Rez Ball and Medicine Wheels feature young men grappling with profound loss. What keeps drawing you to stories about grief, and how does Bryce’s journey differ from Tre’s?

I want to share the strength and unbelievable perseverance of the student athletes from my reservation, both past and present. I’ve lived and witnessed what it looks and feels like to lose loved ones, while doing our best to carry on, both in honor of them, as well as ourselves. I’ve kept that close to the heart when living alongside the characters I write.

In Rez Ball, Tre was experiencing an immediate, sharp and shared loss, one that had rocked the community. Tre feels a ton of pressure tied to his basketball success, with hopes that he can not only honor his brother, but in a way, heal his family, his teammates, and his reservation by winning that elusive state championship.

Bryce is left, feeling alone, yearning for the safer and happier times he once knew, but those better times are becoming faint memories. Bryce’s connection to his late father are nostalgic, and his love for skateboarding becomes an opportunity to bond once again in an existential way.

Mikayla is described as “online famous” and “captivating.” How does social media culture play into the story, especially in a reservation setting?

Mikayla’s family is incredibly well off, financially. The polar opposite of Bryce’s world. Her skateboarding skills, style, vibe and kindness have created both a real life popularity, as well as online. It’s an additional form of clout. An additional type of success, making Bryce feel even more insecure about his every burgeoning crush on his childhood bestie.

Robbie, Bryce’s best friend has also created a large online following for his skate content. Social media serves as a chance to even the playing fields, an outlet, and a possibility for making it, even if the odds are slim. In a rez setting, it opens up windows and perspectives of all kinds.

When I was growing up, I only knew the world of my rez and the misleading representation of life in a sitcom. Now, we can follow our favorite skateboarder, chef, artist, whoever. We can learn from them and be inspired by them. In places where there might not be a lot of job opportunities, social media gives another possibility to create our niche. You could blow up for skateboarding while sipping cranberry juice and listening to Stevie Nicks, or making short clips centered around “Indian Humor,” or sharing your thoughtful perspective.

Bryce needs to lean on his Ojibwe community to get back on the board. What does community support look like in this story compared to Rez Ball?

It’s more direct, more connected. There aren’t hundreds of fans and supporters cheering on Bryce. But the people that do, the people that love him and want the best for him, are predominantly people who know him and his family. They’re there for him as a person, not an athlete. It’s not until the end that his skateboarding is part of what is celebrated.

The book explores what it means to not be a loser. How does Bryce’s understanding of success and self-worth evolve through the story?

Bryce feels like he is a loser when comparing himself and his situation in life to others. There are people around him who have nice cars, wealth, new clothes, and good looks. All the typical superficial elements people cling to as status symbols. Bryce also is intimidated by the super talented skateboarders, which leads to a different sense of inferiority complex and insecurity.

Thanks to his budding skateboarding skills, and the ever deepening bonds between him and his family, Bryce eventually has the self realization that what matters most to him is his family, his friends, being kind, and that his love and fun with skateboarding is dependent on his enjoyment of it, not what tricks he can or can’t do.

The description mentions Bryce discovering “his father’s real legacy—and the true meaning of unconditional love.” Without spoiling, what made you want to explore these themes of legacy and love in Medicine Wheels?

Love is buoyed by forgiveness, appreciation, and recognition. Bryce learns to forgive his mother for her chemical dependencies and the instability that has brought to their lives. The care and support his family and friends provide him deepens his appreciation of them.

Bryce has constant recognition throughout the story, the connection to his late father, the strength of his grandparents, the fearlessness of his community, and the bond of his friendships. They’re all seamlessly connected in Bryce’s ever evolving healing process and understanding of unconditional love.

What are you working on next?

I’m not sure how much I can share just yet. But it’s the most exciting and daunting project I’ve ever attempted. It is centered around the exploration, understanding, acceptance, and recognition of my gender identity.

It takes place in the same world as Rez Ball, but also shares a setting in another, digital world. There are some elements of my last two books, but it also goes to a place I never thought I would be brave enough to write, create or share, kind of resetting what I had ever imagined for my story telling journey.

When I first embarked on my writing and artistic life I promised myself that if what I was creating didn’t scare me at least a little bit, then it might be game over for me. This next book boldly takes that promise to the next level.

Cynsational Notes

Byron Graves is Ojibwe and Lakota and was born and raised on the Red Lake Indian Reservation in Minnesota, where they played high school basketball. When they aren’t writing, they can be found playing retro video games, spending time with their family, or cheering on their beloved Minnesota Timberwolves. Rez Ball was their debut novel; Medicine Wheels is their second book.

A.J. Eversole grew up in rural Oklahoma, where wide open spaces fueled her imagination and a lifelong love of stories. An enrolled member of the Cherokee Nation, she writes across adult and children’s literature, from stories centering Cherokee identity and cultural reclamation to fantasy, speculative fiction, and narratives of everyday courage.

Her work appears in Legendary Frybread Drive-In (Heartdrum/HarperCollins), a Michael L. Printz Award–winning anthology, Beyond the Glittering World (Torrey House Press), and Never Whistle at Night Part II (Vintage, 2026). Through her fiction, Eversole centers Native voices and futures while honoring the living presence of tradition, community, and story.

In addition to her creative work, she reports on Native voices in literature for Cynsations. She lives and writes in Oklahoma. Find her on social media @ajeversole.