God, that smile.
I stare at the hardware in front of me. It feels as if it’s all staring right back at me.
Did I just …?
I shake my head. Why am I even thinking about this?
I don’t have any time to waste. I grab some tools and a large block of wood and start working on my gift.
“Dixie. What the hell are you doing here?” my dad suddenly hollers.
He’s standing in the doorway, giving me a stern look as he hangs a bunch of keys on a rack.
“Just working on a gift for Mom,” I say, trying to mind my own business.
However, before I can continue, he steals my tools right out of my hands. “In here? I never gave you permission.”
I protest, “But Dad—”
“No!” He chucks the tools away so hard they make a dent in the metal lining of the door. I jolt from the scare. “I’m tired of you wasting my time. You’re supposed to help your brothers out there on the farm, not play around with my tools in the fucking shed.”
He snatches away my stuff.
Why does he always have to be so mean? Fuck. I really hate my dad sometimes.
“I’m not playing around,” I say, folding my arms. “Give me back my stuff.”
“Why are you doing this? Can’t you just buy a normal gift for your mother?”
“Like what?” I scoff.
“Perfume. Flowers,” he suggests. “Hell, you can even make her some breakfast in bed for all I care.”
I roll my eyes. “No.”
I wanted to give her this. This was my thing. My idea.
His idea is to cook for her. I can’t even fucking boil an egg, let alone make an entire breakfast.
Working with my hands is what I’m good at. Technical stuff. But my dad won’t allow it.
He thinks it’s a waste of time, and that I should spend more time doing things on the farm for the family. It’s always about the family.
“What’s wrong with breakfast in bed?” Dad asks.
“It’s not my thing,” I say.
“Well, this isn’t it either,” he replies, throwing all my hard-earned stuff in the plastic bag again. “You’re a girl, Dixie.” He shoves the bag into a closet, locking it away. “Act like one.”
Fuck, I hate it when he says that. As if girls can’t like different things. “Why do you always have to be like that?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says.
Fuck, that hurts.
After all these years, he still doesn’t accept me for who I am. He still thinks he can make a better woman out of me and that I’ll change. I won’t. I am who I am.
I take in a big breath, eyeing the key in his hand. No point in shouting. Then I’ll never get that gift for Mom done. “When will I get my stuff back?”
He looks pissed, just like me. “Not until you start doing the right thing. Which is?”
This again.
I sigh.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me until I look at him and say the magic words. “Family first …” I mumble.
“Exactly.” He places his hand on top of my head and messes up my hair, then pinches my cheek. I try to swat him away, but it’s useless.
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad.”
“I know, which is why I’m going to teach you some new stuff on the farm today.” He beckons me as he walks out the shed. “C’mon.”
“What new stuff?” I ask.
He smashes his lips together. “You’ll find out soon enough.” The added wink is all I need to know that he means business.
Fuck yeah. Finally, something exciting.
I hop off my stool and run after him, ready to help.
Maybe, once I’ve done what he wants, and he’s happy, he’ll give me back my stuff, and I’ll be able to finish my gift for Mom. I have to get it done. There’s no way I’ll have my shit locked away like that. I have to finish what I started.
After all, I received the hardware for free. No way I’m going to waste such a nice thing Brandon did for me.
No fucking way.
Chapter Four
Brandon
Age 17
“Why would anyone do this?” I grab a sponge and dip it in the bucket of soap. Someone painted the words “Get out, Indians!” across the shop windows.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t me,” Hanson says, scrubbing the windows hard.
I snort. “Who said I was blaming you?”
“I dunno. I feel like I always have to apologize for shit.” He shrugs. “Your papa doesn’t seem to like me very much.”
“Gah, don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it,” I say, cocking my head. “He literally hates everyone from the reserve. I’m surprised he doesn’t hate me too.”
Hanson laughs. “Who says he doesn’t?”
I make a face, dunk my sponge into the water, and throw some at him. “Asshole.”
“Says the other asshole,” he retorts.
Now we’re in a water fight, and before we know it, we’re drenched. The glass is far from being clean, but at least we’re having fun. It’s better than moping around all day like my papa does. He wasn’t too happy when he saw what some vandals had done to the shop overnight. I swear, if I’d caught them in the act, I would have chased them with his gun.
Fucking rednecks, always trying to get on our backs. I don’t get why they want us out of here so badly. We don’t harm anyone. We’re just trying to make a life of our own here, and people are always making it difficult for us. I doubt anyone would ever do this on the reserve.
“Cleaning off the stank?”
I look over my shoulder at the obvious taunt. It’s the twins, Ben and Danny Burrell. Fuckers can’t even get good grades, yet they come here to belittle me. No fucking way. Not on my watch.
“Shut your fucking pie holes,” I reply.
They both burst out into laughter.
“What is that on the windows? Blood of a fucking pig?” Danny asks, laughing at the text written on the glass. “Good luck cleaning that off, Indian.”
Hanson throws his sponge at them, but they dodge it right away. “Get the fuck out of here!”
“It’s a free town, bitch. We can go wherever we want,” Ben says, throwing the sponge right back at Hanson.
I’m pretty fucking sure they did this. And then came back to admire their fucking work.
“Motherfuckers,” I spit. I’ve had enough of them and Derek’s shit. They’ve been hounding me at school and now here too. I’m done.
“What’d you want, huh?” Ben taunts, both of them approaching us with dirty looks.
I raise my fists. “Come at me,” I hiss. “I dare you. I fucking dare you.”
“What? You wanna get your ass beaten, boy?” Danny spits. “You’re nothing but a piece of Native trash.”
“Take that back,” I bark. “Or I swear to God, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?”
A voice from behind them makes them turn their heads. I look up. It’s my uncle Josiah Locklear. I haven’t seen him in years, not since we left the reserve. I almost didn’t recognize him, it’s been so long. But the moment I do, a smile appears on my face.
“You weren’t going to fight out here on the streets, were you?” Uncle Josiah asks. One stern look at the two boys has them backing off.
“No, sir, we were just fooling around.”
“Go play somewhere else then,” he says, cocking his head at them a couple of times. “Go on.”
“Yes, sir.” Both boys immediately run off.
I guess my uncle’s influence even spans to this town and beyond. And all that because he’s part of the council that oversees the reserve. People respect him, and the rednecks fear his power. That, or he just has loads of cash and can literally buy anything he sets his eyes on, including the Burrell farm. I don’t think the twins can afford to anger my uncle.
He’s a powerful man. One I admire.
“Uncle Jo!” I say with a big smile on my face.
He pulls me in for a hug and laughs too. “How you doing, boy?”
“All right, I guess,” I reply. But that’s kind of a lie. “I miss the reserve, though. Cooking out in the wild, making frybread with the family.”
“You still remember that? Aww …” He rubs my head and tousles my hair as if I’m still a little kid. “Yeah, those are the good memories all right.”
I swiftly step out of his arms when I notice Hanson staring at us.
“And who’s this?” Uncle Josiah asks.
Hanson holds out his hand. “Name’s Hanson.”
My uncle stares him down instead of shaking his hand, then says, “Nice to meet ya, boy.”
“He works at my papa’s shop too,” I add with an awkward smile. “He’s from the reserve like you.”
Uncle Josiah smiles back. “So your papa has you cleaning up the front of the shop?” He looks the window up and down, the letters still clearly visible, and shakes his head.
I glance at the racist words scribbled on the windows. “Yeah, people don’t really like us here.”
“Well, that’s no reason for them to behave like that,” he says, gesturing at the window.
I nod. “I’ve said that over and over, but Papa won’t listen. He thinks people will get used to us and that things will eventually settle down.” I rub the back of my neck, unsure what I should do. “It pisses me off that Papa lets everyone walk all over him. If it were up to me, I’d have beaten the shit out of them already.”
Uncle Josiah laughs. “Of course, you would. But your papa ain’t like that. He’s more of a gentle soul.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll appreciate it someday.”
“If you say so,” I reply, which he ignores.
“Is your papa inside? I need to speak with him,” he asks.
I nod, and he immediately walks inside, so I stroll behind him while simultaneously signaling to Hanson that I have no clue what’s going on.
When my papa sees me with my uncle, though … I have never seen his eyes turn that cold that quickly.
“Josiah? What are you doing here?” he asks with an obvious sneer. He clutches the counter as he walks in front of it. “Brandon, c’mere boy.”
“It’s Uncle Jo. Aren’t you happy to see him?” I ask, confused.
“Come. Here.” The frown on my papa’s face completely sours my mood.
After a reluctant glance at my uncle, I make my way over to my papa. What happened between them? All I know is that we were one big happy family when we left the reserve.
My papa clears his throat. “Hanson, you can go home now.”
Hanson makes a face. “But I thought we were supposed to—”
“You’re done for today,” my papa says resolutely.
“Okay,” Hanson says, side-eyeing me. He shrugs and drops everything he was doing. “See ya tomorrow.”
After he’s gone, I frown and glare at Uncle Jo and then my papa. They’re staring uncomfortably at one another.
“Nice shop you got here,” Uncle Jo says, playing with some of the items on the shelves.
“Go to the back,” my papa whispers at me.
“Why? I’m old enough to know what’s going on, Papa,” I say.
“Not. Now,” he hisses. “Uncle Jo and I have some business to take care of.”
Sighing out loud, I say, “Fine.”
I go to the back of the shop, but my dad didn’t say I couldn’t listen to their conversation from behind the doorway.
What? I’m not perfect.
Besides, this is way too important to miss.
“So how’s Brandon doing at school?” Uncle Jo asks. “Straight A’s?”
“He’s doing fine,” my papa replies without any emotion. It’s like he hates talking about me or something.
“Great to hear. Business good too?”
“We manage,” my papa answers, then he clears his throat. “Let’s not pretend you’re actually interested.”
“Oh, c’mon now. Course I am. Just because you’ve moved out doesn’t mean you’re not part of the family anymore.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds. Something jingles. Sounds like the cash register.
“Here,” Papa says. “That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?”
“Well …”
“I don’t need the lies, please,” my papa says. “Just take it.”
“I’m glad you’re ready to pay off the loan.”
Loan? What loan? Since when does my papa take money from people? Why don’t I know any of this? Fuck.
“Happy to do business with you,” Uncle Jo says. I don’t even need to see him to know he’s smiling. But it’s not a good one, that I can tell.
“That’s the last of it, right?” my papa asks.
“Of course. But if you ever need more, you know where to find me.”
“I’ll pass on that offer, thank you,” my papa replies, his voice just as stern as when he badgers me about something bad I did. “Goodbye.”
He’s sure quick to cut the conversation short.
“Good luck with the shop, Ahiga.”
Ahiga? Since we’ve moved here, no one ever calls my papa by his Native name.
Everything goes silent until a final jingle is audible.
After a few more seconds of waiting, my papa suddenly says, “You can come out now.”
Shit.
I enter the room again. My papa doesn’t look too pleased when he sees me. “Sorry,” I say, trying not to anger him even more.
“It’s okay,” he says, blinking a couple of times. “It’s only natural for you to be curious. Especially with family.” He swallows after saying that last word.
“How did you know?” I ask.
He snorts. “Like I wasn’t young once too.” He puts his hand on my cheek and squeezes softly.
I lean back and cringe. “Papa, I’m not a kid anymore.”
“I know … I know. You’ve grown up so fast.”
“Why was Uncle Jo asking for money?” I ask.
“Ah, it’s no big deal,” my papa says, looking away. “He just came to collect the debt I owed.”
Debt. That sounds harsh.
“Why did you owe him?” I keep asking. “Papa? Did he … own this shop?”
“He doesn’t. It’s in my name. But he did give me the money to buy it.” He clears his throat. “But that’s all in the past now. I don’t want you to worry about anything.”
He smiles, but it’s a reluctant one. Like a mask he hides behind.
He always says those words, but they’re never true.
And judging from how they parted ways, I wonder if I’m ever going to see Uncle Jo again.
“Is Uncle Jo ever coming back to visit us? Are we ever going back to the reserve?” I ask. “What about the rest of our family?”
“Perhaps … it’s probably for the best …” My papa angles his head and places a hand on my shoulder. “But you don’t need them, Brandon. You have me. And you have your friend … what’s his name?”
My lip twitches. “Hanson,” I fill in.
“Exactly,” he says, nodding. “But my point is, we’re all the family you’ll ever need.”
Chapter Five
Brandon
Weeks later
“So have you found a girl yet?”
I almost slam my own locker door against my own face. “What?”
“You know, for the bonfire,” Hanson says, smiling like an idiot. “We’re supposed to bring a partner, remember?”
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter.
After working day and night in the shop, I completely forgot about the bonfire.
“Traditions, Brandon.” He pats me on the shoulder. “They’re important here.”
“When is it?” I ask as he stuffs his books into his bag.
“A week from now.”
“Shit,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “Do you think I’m too late?”
“Nah,” he says, laughing. “Although all the good one
s will be taken. Probably. Most likely, anyway.” He shrugs.
I don’t care about “good.” I just want someone to say yes so I can go. I’ve never gone to the bonfire because I was always alone and being there alone is like the dumbest thing to do in the history of high school.
“I don’t think we stand a chance,” he says, shrugging it off again. “I’m not even going to try.”
“Why not?” I ask, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
“Well, have ya looked at me?” He gestures at his body, up and down, as if something’s off about him.
“Yeah. I don’t get it,” I say.
“Have ya looked at them?” He points at everyone else in the hallway. It’s just people. Most of them don’t share the same skin color as us, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Should it?
“So?” I rub my lips together. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Like I have a chance,” he says, leaning against his locker. “Besides, there’s only one girl I want.”
“Who?” I grin. I’m only asking to see his reaction because I already know who he likes. He’s had an eye on her for some time now.
“As if I’d tell you,” he says, shaking his head. “I know the kind of shit you pull. I’m not gonna embarrass myself in front of her.”
“Why not? At least you’ll make an impression then.” I snicker.
“No, she’s part of that cool club. You know, the ones who only date jocks.”
“Ah …” Hanson’s talking about Lillian, one of the girls from the track team. The really sporty ones. I don’t think she knows he likes her.
Hell, he’s probably too chicken to talk to her, figuring he’d say something stupid. That’s the life of us loners. We don’t talk to people much. Though, I feel like Hanson secretly wants to belong to one of the groups here at school. He’s always going on about the events they organize, trying to fit in even though we both know we never will.
Me? I don’t feel like I belong with any of the groups. Not the nerds, not the popular crowd, not the jocks, or the artsies. I haven’t felt like I belonged to something since my papa and I moved off the reserve. Right now, I’m just doing my own thing. But that does make it difficult when it comes to parties and stuff like the bonfire.
Branded Page 3
