“You put the wrong place in,” Rosa says. “You just said ‘Palo Duro Canyon,’ not ‘State Park.’”
Eliza blinks, determined not to cry.
“It’s an easy mistake,” Cass interrupts, and pulls back onto the road. “The canyon is really big and it sent us to the wrong end. We just have to drive around it.”
Rosa groans and sits back roughly, while Mindy takes a picture of the Antelope Flat sign, the electronic click like a tiny admonishment. Keri yawns. “It’s fine,” she says. “An hour’s not that much longer.”
“And a half. We’ll have to set up camp in the dark,” Rosa grumbles.
Cass glances in the rearview and hands her phone back to Eliza. “Find us some more music.”
Embarrassed, but stung, Eliza spies an album she knows they’ll hate. But if it’s in Cass’s music library, so she must like it, and the first plucky guitar notes make her grin.
“Ugh, what the hell is this?” Mindy demands as a strident voice kicks in.
“Listen, cousin,” Cass says over her shoulder. “We sat through your jock jams playlist, you can put up with this.”
Mindy sticks her tongue out and puts her headphones in.
“I can’t believe you listen to Camp Cope,” Cass says.
Eliza shrugs. “It’s not my usual thing, but the lyrics are...”
“Yeah,” Cass agrees. She bobs her head for a moment, then joins in singing the second verse. Eliza mouths the words, letting her volume rise a little as Cass wails along with the bridge.
“What is wrong with y’all?” Rosa demands, covering her ears.
Cass sings louder, and for the first time today, Eliza laughs.
* * *
It’s twilight by the time they reach the park gate, and Rosa suggests they stop at the Visitor’s Center so they won’t have to double back for a hiking trail map in the morning. The adobe building clings to the canyon wall and when the sun is out, the view must be amazing, but right now it’s just dark shapes against a dark sky. Mindy takes a picture anyway.
Inside, Rosa chats with a park ranger while Keri and Mindy check out the gift shop. Eliza and Cass linger behind, looking at the historical displays. A black-and-white video plays on one wall, telling the story of the Comanches who controlled this territory until the late 1800s, when the US Army tracked down the last band who hadn’t been forced onto the reservation. “Where did they...” Eliza starts, afraid to misphrase the simple question. “Were they moved to Oklahoma?”
Cass nods. “Down around Lawton and the Wichitas.”
“Ouachitas?”
“Wich-itas. Different mountains, in the southwest.” She points to a map, then reads a nearby sign titled The Final Blow. “The army captured about 1,400 horses from the hostiles in Palo Duro Canyon. Hostiles,” she repeats, snorting.
Eliza reads on.
To prevent the Indians from recovering the herd, General Mackenzie had his men shoot over 1000 of the animals. Without their large horse herd, the Southern Plains tribes lost their mobility and had no choice but to surrender.
“Wow,” she says. “It makes the Indians sound like the animals.” She stops. “Is it even okay to say Indian?”
“Depends on who you ask.” Cass moves to the next sign, and points to another use of the word hostiles. “I’ll take it over this crap though.”
“I’ve never heard of any of this,” Eliza admits.
“That’s the public education system for you. Hey, we missed a room.”
Cass leads her into an exhibit about how the Civilian Conservation Corps built the park in the 1930s. Eliza musters her courage and when she’s read every display, she forces herself to ask, “Cass...do you remember meeting me last summer?”
Cass turns around slowly and studies her. “Yeah,” she admits, “but I’m surprised you brought it up.”
Eliza’s face flushes. “I know. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know any better and when I said—”
“Wait,” Cass interrupts. “What did you say?”
She can’t meet her eyes. “You...um...you said something about taking Choctaw language classes, and I said...” She glances up, hoping Cass won’t make her repeat it, and sighs. “And I said, ‘Oh, you don’t look Indian.’”
Cass throws her head back and laughs. “Oh my god.”
Eliza covers her face. “I know! I’m sorry—”
“Eliza,” Cass says, pulling her hands away. “Do you know how many people have said that to me?”
“I knowwwww,” she says miserably. “Afterwards I researched and—”
“I only snapped at you about it because I was flustered by your boyfriend cockblocking me.”
Eliza’s defense trails into sputtering. “What?” she manages.
“He totally caught me checking you out so when I started trying to make conversation and he came over I just...spun out.”
Eliza can’t stop shaking her head.
“For real. I’d only been out for a few months so I didn’t know how to play it cool at all.”
This explanation makes absolutely no sense. “The whole way to Poteau I felt like I was going to barf because I thought you hated me.”
Cass laughs, but not unkindly. “Girl. Half the people I meet say I don’t look Indian, and the other half tell me they have a Cherokee grandma. It’s an occupational hazard of being Native.”
Eliza doesn’t know how to answer that, so she says, “Nathan never mentioned anything about it.”
“He probably knew you hadn’t realized I was hitting on you and didn’t want to freak you out.”
“Why would that...” The true meaning starts to sink in. Cass was hitting on her? On her? “I mean... I’m flattered.”
“Well,” Cass says, looking down at her boots. “You never can tell how people are going to react.”
“I don’t know how to react,” Eliza admits, and rushes on, not wanting to offend. “I mean, nobody ever hits on me. Girls or boys.”
“Yeah but how long has Nathan been around to cockblock?” Cass grins, and when Eliza doesn’t answer, says, “I rest my case.” She turns to join the other girls, then stop and adds, “But he’s not here now, is he?”
Eliza watches her walk away. No. He most certainly is not.
* * *
The campground is crowded, but only with RVs—nobody wants to tent camp at the height of summer in the Texas panhandle. “We should have brought more lanterns,” Mindy complains, holding up one end of the tent she’s sharing with Rosa.
“Look on the bright side,” Keri says. “It’s cooling off. And at least it’s not raining like the forecast said.”
Rosa huffs. “We’re car camping, you wusses. And it’s nice enough we don’t even really need a tent.”
Mindy drops her end to slap a mosquito and holds out a bloodied palm in response.
Eliza isn’t confident her own tent is going to last the night. It’s a one-person model she reluctantly borrowed from Nathan, since her own family doesn’t do much camping, and she’s never put it up before. Laying out her sleeping bag, she realizes it still smells like him, and quickly unzips all the windows to let it escape.
“You’re gonna need your rain fly,” Rosa calls, her headlamp illuminating Eliza’s progress.
“I’ll put it on before bed,” she says. “The tent’s kind of musty.”
Despite the dark, Rosa somehow manages to make calzones on a single burner stove, and the meal greatly improves morale. “How’d you learn to do that?” Cass asks. “All I can cook in the woods is canned soup and beans.”
“I spent last summer at a survival skills camp,” Rosa says.
“Well that explains it.” Cass stands up. “What should I do with these dishes?”
“I’ll take them,” Eliza says, happy to have a way to contribute. But it only takes a minute to realize she can’t
even wash dishes without help. “Should I just take these to the water pump?”
Rosa shakes her head. “I brought tubs—you’re going to want to boil some water first, to get the dishes clean.”
This presents another problem: There’s a burn ban, so she can’t build a fire, and relighting the stove involves potential explosives. Her options are to ask for help, or risk blowing herself up. The latter seems less embarrassing.
Ten matches later, Cass comes over. “You need help?”
Eliza shrugs, knowing the answer is obvious, and feels even stupider as Cass simply turns the knob a little more.
“It’s easier if you can hear the gas,” she explains, turning the flame back down once it ignites. “Just don’t turn it all the way up. Assuming you want to keep your eyebrows.”
She forces a smile, noting that even Cass’s eyebrows are cooler than hers. She’s never understood how to shape them the way everyone else seems to. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Here, I’ll fill this.” She pours water from a jug while Eliza steadies the pan. “We can scrub while we wait.”
Eliza takes the dirty plates and dumps leftovers into a trash bag, careful to be tidy—she doesn’t think Palo Duro has bears, but nobody wants javelinas and raccoons either. She tries not to think about how many bears there will be when they get to Colorado.
She’s trying not to think about lots of things at the moment. Cass had to be kidding, or at least just trying to make her feel better. Eliza knows she’s not horrid looking, but thanks to a jerk on the baseball team, she also knows her pale, bony face can be described as “rat-like,” complete with fake cheese eating and whisker stroking. Besides, no one as cool as Cass would bother being friends with a dork like Eliza, much less...
Much less is too much to ponder. Dishes are easier.
But Cass insists on helping. When the water is hot, they work in tag team, Cass rinsing and Eliza drying. “I’m sorry if I made things weird,” Cass says, handing over a plate.
“No, no,” Eliza says, flipping a hand and showering Cass with dishwater. “It’s...it’s fine.”
It’s not fine. All evening, her mind has gone around in circles, evaluating every friendship and celebrity obsession and harmless crush she’s ever had. Sure, she’s always been a little too into a couple of her favorite female musicians, and sure, she can admit that those women are drop-dead gorgeous, but does that mean she might want to...?
Even putting words to it feels like standing at the edge of a cliff. A canyon, even.
“Look, I knew the chances were good that you were straight,” Cass says. “And I want you to know that unlike a lot of dudes, I am totally able to be friends with someone I find attractive.”
Friends, Eliza thinks, surprised, then: Find attractive? It seems such a stiff and clinical way to express it, but what else can she say? I think you’re hot? I find you ridiculously appealing? I want to kiss you?
Why does she want Cass to say that?
She blinks and lets herself admit it. I might want Cass to want that.
“So just like—don’t feel like you have to—” Cass is saying.
“How did you know?” Eliza interrupts.
Cass stops. “How did I know what?”
“About girls. That you like them.”
“Oh.” She thinks for a moment. “I just...always did. Guys never did it for me.”
“Oh.” Eliza picks up another plate, one she knows she’s already dried, and wipes it with the towel. “Never?”
“Not really. I mean, I don’t rule out the possibility that one might someday, but if he exists, I haven’t met him yet.”
“So you...” Eliza pauses, then just admits the obvious. “I don’t even know how to ask this, but what do you call yourself?”
“I’m a pansexual Choctaw feminist,” Cass says, adopting a professorial tone. “Though I usually just say I’m a lesbian. Folks in Poteau don’t know what pansexual means unless they’re on the internet.”
Eliza nods. “I guess that’s a benefit of living where I do.”
“Big Springs is pretty liberal, huh, especially for Arkansas.”
“College town,” she says. What she wants to ask is, What am I? What did you think I was? But instead she says, “Our friend Randy is gay.”
Cass cracks up.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Eliza’s ears burn. “No really, what?” When Cass doesn’t answer, she reaches for her arm, realizing a moment too late that her hand is wet.
Cass sobers herself, letting Eliza’s hand rest where it fell. “It’s just funny, how people always want you to know. ‘I have a gay friend.’ ‘I know an Indian.’”
Eliza pulls away and stares into the water, wishing it could drown her anger and shame. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Cass says.
“Yeah I did,” Eliza admits. “I didn’t know what else to say.”
“Well,” Cass says, taking the twice-dried plate out of her hands. “Now you do.”
* * *
The predicted rain arrives not long after the girls go to bed. Eliza remembered her rain fly, but she’s still nervous the tent will flood. Keri left the van unlocked just in case that happens, so chill out. She puts her phone in her pocket, just in case.
Without those worries, though, Eliza is stuck in a different storm of questions. What does it mean if she wants a girl to like her? What does it mean if she wants to kiss a girl? What does it mean if she likes and wants to kiss Cass, specifically? What would the other girls think? Does it even matter, if they’re all moving to different towns anyway?
What would her parents think? Or her sister?
Or Nathan?
Eliza sits up. Who cares what Nathan thinks? But she knows she still does. Their breakup has been amicable, making it all the more heartbreaking. Nathan thinks this is just a phase and they’ll get back together, because he still loves Eliza. And of course she loves him too. She always has. Just not in the way she should.
Is that because she’s...bi? Pan?
What the hell would she even call herself?
A gust of wind whistles through camp, pushing one side of the tent against her shoulder. For all Mindy’s griping about the heat, the phone says the temperature has dropped thirty degrees. Eliza digs through her backpack and pulls on the puffy jacket she packed for Colorado. As the rain becomes a downpour, she digs for socks, too, wondering if she should put on shoes just in case.
A loud crack of thunder makes the decision for her. Giving up on socks, she grabs her backpack and braces for the rain—Eliza hates being wet, hates swimming and doesn’t even like putting her face into the shower. Lightning flashes, temporarily blinding her as she crawls out of the tent into the red mud. Beside her, Cass’s tent has collapsed, and it’s flailing like the cocoon of a very pissed butterfly.
“Cass?” she yells over the storm. “Hey! Are you okay?”
She can’t tell what Cass says in reply but suspects it’s mainly profanity. Eliza ducks to the corner of the tent and runs her hand along the bottom until she finds the zipper, then peels the soaked nylon apart. Cass jumps up and throws her arms around her. “I was freaking out!” she yells.
Together, they run for the van and struggle inside, slamming the door behind them. Eliza rummages through her bag for a towel, but Cass hugs herself tightly. “Here,” Eliza says, wrapping her towel around Cass’s shoulders. “Hey. You okay?”
Thunder crashes down the canyon like they’re the pins in a bowling lane, and lightning illuminates a falling tree branch that narrowly misses the picnic table. “That’s why Rosa told us not to pitch our tents beneath them,” she says, but Cass doesn’t answer. She’s shaking.
Eliza scoots closer and wraps an arm around, rubbing her shoulder bracingly. “Cass,” she says, forcing her to
look her in the face. “It’s okay. It’s just a storm.”
“But...what if...”
“My phone has signal,” Eliza says, holding it up. “I’ll get a weather alert if things get too dangerous.”
Somehow, this reaches through Cass’s haze. She stares for a moment, then feels for her own phone. “I have an alert set too,” she says wonderingly, like she’s just realized they speak the same language.
“The joys of growing up in tornado country.”
Eliza watches as Cass deliberately slows her breathing until she can meet Eliza’s eyes. “Thanks, for that,” she says. “Sometimes I just—” She trails off and shakes her head.
“It was scary.” Eliza looks out the window just in time to see her own tent collapse. “Annnd there goes mine.”
Cass giggles. It’s so at odds with everything that Eliza laughs too, and then they’re both cracking up. Dripping all over Keri’s parents’ seats, their clothes soaked, one semi-dry towel between them. Someone’s tarp flies by the van and they laugh even harder. Their eyes meet and the laughter stalls, then Eliza takes a breath and leans and then.
They’re kissing.
They’re kissing. And it’s different, not because it’s a girl, or not just because it’s a girl, but because it’s not Nathan, and Eliza had dreaded this moment from the minute she considered breaking up, because how could she ever kiss anyone else? But now—now it’s the greatest decision she’s ever made, because this is...this is not what she’s used to, this is being wanted, being desired, this is...connecting and—
Cass breaks away. “Wait. Is this...are you okay—”
“It’s fine. Great,” Eliza breathes. “Yes.”
Cass grins and leans in again.
* * *
The next morning, Eliza wakes up with a crick in her neck and a sneaking suspicion that she’s been drooling on Cass’s shoulder. The sun breaks over the canyon rim, revealing rock walls striped like the layers of a cake, deep red at the bottom and fading to yellow at the top. Cottonwoods’ silvery leaves shine along the creek bed, and small mesquite and juniper trees dot the canyon floor. Rock formations—hoodoos, Eliza knows from the visitor center—stick up at random like twisted lighthouses in a sea of yucca and prickly pear.
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