Out of Darkness (Fiction - Young Adult)

by Ashley Hope Pérez

  “Hope we make it in time,” Henry was saying. “It’s like nothing else you’ll ever see. Loud as heck, too, when that oil comes up. Might want to plug your ears.”

  Henry swerved suddenly to the left, steering the truck down a rutted side road. The headlamps pierced the gathering darkness.

  Some creature dropped straight down in front of the truck. Naomi gasped.

  “Do you think we hit it?” Beto whispered, looking at Cari.

  She shrugged.

  Soon they had to slow down because trucks were parked bumper-to-bumper up and down the side of the narrow dirt road. Naomi thought Henry would park there, too, but he kept driving. “We park up front. There’s one bonus from being the derrick hand who’s a slave to these old rigs.”

  There was light at the end of the road, and they pulled into a bulldozed clearing. Henry double-parked beside one of the company trucks and threw his door open.

  The twins piled out behind him before Naomi had even opened her door. She stepped down from the truck and slammed the door.

  “Carrie, Robbie!” Henry was halfway to the rig, but he stopped to call back to them. “You stay right there with Naomi, don’t go no further. I tell you to drop back, you’d better listen fast. And mind your sister, you hear?”

  So now they were supposed to obey her; at least there was that.

  Naomi studied the scene from the outside in. Men smoked at the edges of the clearing, waiting to see how big the strike might be. Most of them wore oil field gear and had probably been tipped off by rig workers who’d gone back to the yard. But ordinary people were arriving, too. Seeing some rich man get a little richer was something, and there wasn’t much else to do in East Texas on a Saturday night. Folks wandered around the clearing. It was packed red clay, scraped clean of trees and grass. Spotlights shone on the drilling machinery. Workers hurried around the base of the derrick.

  The oil derricks were everywhere in East Texas. Most of the derricks were leftovers, Henry said. It wasn’t worth the trouble to break them down when wood was so plentiful and cheap that you could just build new ones. So the odd towers of crisscrossed boards dotted the landscape, taller than most trees but not near as pretty.

  Naomi hugged herself tight and wished she’d brought a sweater. “Are you two cold?” she called up to the twins. They were squatting right at the halfway point where Henry had told them to stop, watching the men working.

  “No!” they shouted together.

  Naomi could feel the hair begin to stand up on her arms with the cold.

  “Here.” A heavy jacket settled onto her shoulders. She turned quickly and saw Gilbert Harris from church. He was a year older than she was and had already graduated. Like just about all the men and even some of the boys from school, he worked in the oil field.

  “Oh—well, thanks,” Naomi managed. She thought about giving the jacket back, but the warmth was too welcome to deny.

  “You were shivering so hard, looked like you might end up digging a hole to China.” He toed the ground with his boot. “This one’s definitely coming in soon,” he said.

  “Do you work on this rig?”

  Gilbert shook his head. “Nah, I’m a low man on the totem pole. I do whatever needs doing. If the pumper’s out sick, I hook up sucker rods to pumpjacks. On a rig, I can fill in as lead tong hand. But mostly I’m stuck being a tank cleaner. Got to work my way up.”

  Naomi shifted from one foot to another. Tommie Kinnebrew had introduced her to Gilbert one Sunday after church, and he’d said hello to her a few times. Other than that she’d never spoken to him.

  “Too bad about the trees.” She nodded at the bald expanse in front of them. She scanned it and spotted Cari and Beto talking with a few kids from their class.

  Gilbert laughed. “It’s not like we’re going to run out. Those pines grow up like weeds, don’t you worry. Hey,” he touched her arm lightly, “you can smell the oil.”

  Naomi sniffed, but all she could smell was the tang of cologne mixed with sweat coming off of the letterman jacket.

  “A little like the ocean, a little like gasoline,” Gilbert said. “That’s oil for sure.”

  The twins noticed the smell, too, lifting their noses like hunting dogs catching a scent. “It’s coming from over there!” Beto shouted, pointing toward the rig.

  Beto was running toward the rig before Naomi could call him back. A moment later, a black geyser exploded through the wooden frame of the derrick. It was too loud for him to hear her screams.

  She started to run, but Gilbert was faster, shouting something over his shoulder as he charged after Beto. Naomi grabbed Cari. She could feel her little sister’s heart pounding through her rib cage.

  Gilbert scooped up Beto and ran back with him under his arm like a football. Behind them, the oil sprayed a hundred feet in the air. It splashed down in a sudden, black lake. Most of the workers had gotten back from the rig in time, but a few men were covered.

  “Thank you!” Naomi shouted when Gilbert plopped Beto down in front of her. She hugged Beto tight then bent him over her knee right there and gave him a spanking to remember.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  For the next three hours, the crowd of spectators grew. There was a hamburger stand just like Henry had predicted, and Mr. Turner from the grocery store brought a truck with candy, pickles, and sausages on sticks. Naomi made sure to keep her distance, but when Gilbert offered Hershey bars to the twins, Naomi nodded to Cari, who took his dime and got in line.

  Beto started to protest, but Naomi shook her head and tightened her grip on his shoulder.

  “Little oil tycoon,” Gilbert teased Beto. “Couldn’t wait to get your hands on that black gold?” He nudged Naomi and pointed in the direction of a shiny maroon Packard Eight coming down the road toward them. “Speaking of tycoons, look over there. That’s got to be Mr. Gibbler. Zane Gibbler’s the only one in East Texas with a car like that. This is his land, so I reckon he wants to see how he’s going to make out. He’s got more deals with the oil companies than anybody else around.”

  They watched as the sleek car pulled past all the mud-splattered trucks and inched forward into the crowd, which parted quickly to make way.

  “He don’t like walking much,” Gilbert said.

  The car slowed to a stop near the rig. An older black man got out of the front seat and opened the back door. A moment later, a pair of polished cowboy boots appeared, followed by a mountain of a man dressed in a suit and ten-gallon hat. His clothes were expensive, but his enormous belly strained against the buttons of his shirt. A man in khakis ran to meet him.

  Cari ran over with the chocolate bars. “Who’s that?” she asked, turning her face up to Gilbert.

  “That’s the man who owns this land. The other guy’s the tool pusher,” Gilbert said. “He’s in charge of the whole operation.”

  A second pair of legs appeared beneath the Packard’s door, and a moment later, Miranda was upon them. She laid a freckled hand on Gilbert’s arm. “Hey, Sneaks!” she giggled. She hugged him.

  Gilbert carefully freed himself from her arms. “Didn’t know you’d be here, Miranda. Usually it’s just your pa.”

  She shrugged and twirled her blond hair around a finger. “Me and Daddy were eating at the Hilltop Restaurant over in Tyler when he got word of the strike. He didn’t want to lose a minute, so that’s how I ended up coming along. But, hey, what luck. I get to see you. It’s been ages!” She looked up at him through curled eyelashes.

  “Workin’ man now,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

  “Oh, my. Why, Naomi!” Miranda took a step back in mock surprise. “Gosh, it’s so dark over here, I didn’t even see you. You just blended right in with the night.” She pasted on a stiff smile. “Sneaks, have you been holding out on me? I didn’t know you knew our new neighbor.”

  “Church,” he said. “We both go to—”

  “By the way,” Miranda interrupted, “Sneaks is Gilbert’s nickname. What his friends call hi
m.”

  “Actually—” he began.

  “That jacket’s a little big on you, isn’t it?” Miranda said, taking a step closer to Naomi and plucking the sleeve of Gilbert’s jacket between index finger and thumb. “But you probably don’t have one of your own. Or did you leave yours down in Mex-i-co?”

  Naomi opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  “Whoa, Emmie,” Gilbert said. “We’re all friends here.” He laid an arm around Naomi. She stiffened, shrugging it off.

  “I bet you’re friendly. Say, what happened to you playing ball for Kilgore College?”

  “You know what, Em.” Gilbert’s shoulders sagged.

  Just then, Naomi saw Tommie walking up from the road with her cousins Katie and Jean. Not as good as disappearing into the dark woods, but a clear escape.

  “Excuse us, please.” Naomi did not look at Miranda but shrugged off the jacket and handed it back to Gilbert. “Thanks,” she said.

  “Keep it as long as you want,” Gilbert said, pushing the jacket back toward her.

  She backed away. “That’s okay.”

  As Naomi turned and hurried the twins toward Tommie, she heard Miranda say, “Better clean that jacket good, Sneaks.” Her high, false laughter filled the air.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  “Hey,” Tommie said. She gave Naomi a quick hug. “Gilbert Harris, huh?” Tommie raised her eyebrows but waited to say more until Cari ran to join Katie, Jean, and a group of other kids.

  “I saw you, but I didn’t want to interrupt,” said Tommie.

  “You should have come over. I was dying to get away,” Naomi said.

  “From Gilbert? Why? He’s the handsomest boy in church.”

  “Come on, Tommie—”

  “Those blue eyes, that button in his chin just asking for somebody to kiss it...” Tommie gave a sigh.

  “Yuck,” Beto said.

  “Oh,” Tommie looked down, noticing him standing behind Naomi for the first time. “Didn’t realize you were there. Why don’t you go play with the other kids?”

  “Can’t,” he mumbled.

  Naomi swatted Beto’s bottom to refresh the memory of the spanking. “You can go on and play for a while, but you’d better stay where I can see you or else you’re going to be holding my hand next.”

  Beto nodded and ran.

  “Miranda’s green with it, you know,” Tommie said.

  “With what?”

  “Jealousy, silly. I heard she liked Gilbert a lot and was after him last year when he was the star quarterback. If he liked her back, I don’t know, but her dad cornered Gil and said he’d never be good enough for her, and if he ever wanted a job with any oil company in East Texas, he’d better keep his hands to himself. To show he was serious, Mr. Gibbler even got the president at Kilgore College to take away Gil’s football scholarship.”

  “That’s some kind of mean.”

  “At least her life isn’t absolutely perfect. Otherwise she’d be even more unbearable. Hey,” Tommie glanced over her shoulder, “listen, I need to get over there and help my cousin Franklin mix a little. He’s visiting from Oklahoma. I told him he was lucky that a well came in tonight. Otherwise, we’d be stuck playing dominoes with my parents.” She grabbed Naomi’s elbow. “Come with me. We’ve got some blankets.”

  By the time the well was tapped, the twins were asleep in the bed of someone’s truck, wrapped in borrowed blankets and snuggled in tight as puppies alongside Katie and Jean. When Henry gave Naomi the nod and motioned toward the road, she gave her blanket back to Tommie and tugged Cari and Beto out of the pile. She led them, still half-asleep, back to Henry’s truck.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Naomi perched on the toilet, feet pressed against the stall door, in the girls’ room by the gym. All week, in every class she shared with Miranda, Naomi paid for being seen in Gilbert’s jacket. On top of the meanness of Miranda’s words and of her friends’ laughter, there was the shame she felt at her heavy tongue and the embarrassment of the other students’ pity. A dozen times a day, she thought about walking out of the school and never coming back. Henry would not care. But there was her promise to Abuelito, and the twins to look after, and also the unbearable notion of spending her days in Henry’s house.

  What she wanted now was her tree in the woods. But the bathroom was easier to explain. All she had had to say was “Lady problems,” and a male teacher wouldn’t ask any more questions. She’d learned that trick from Miranda and her friends.

  She’d picked the gym bathroom because it was far from the classrooms and there were no P.E. classes after lunch, but it turned out to be a bad choice. Only a minute after she’d arrived in search of solitude, PTA mothers poured in after some meeting.

  Naomi watched the feet of the women as they crowded around the mirror. Snatches of overlapping conversations washed around her. Fund-raisers and dance classes. Choir outfits. Cigarette brands and casserole recipes and the best way to get a Jell-O salad out of a mold. Finally the last ladies walked out. Naomi was about to slip out of her stall when two more women pushed through the door.

  One wore black oxfords. The other had on stylish pale blue pumps.

  “Smart as can be,” a husky voice, the one that went with the blue pumps, pronounced. “I heard Max’s teacher say they read better than half the senior class. And them only in third grade.”

  The woman in the black oxfords laughed shrilly. “Nothing like my kids. You’d have to hide a quarter in a book to get them to open it. You know, the other day I went into Miss Bell’s room and saw the boy reading an encyclopedia, of all things.”

  “And her curls, doesn’t she make you think of—”

  “Shirley Temple!” They spoke the words at the same time, then laughed some more.

  “Adorable. But the older sister ... Can that really be their sister?” That was Blue Pumps.

  “Dark. And sneaky-like.” The woman in the oxfords clucked her tongue. “Maybe a little retarded. A lot of those Mexicans are.”

  “She might be slow when it comes to books, but have you noticed how she walks?” asked Black Oxfords, lowering her voice. “A girl like that can be fast in other areas of life, you know.”

  “Runs in the blood.” Blue Pumps coughed, then made a kissing sound at the mirror. “Is my lipstick on straight?” A moment later, she added, “You can just tell that she wants the boys to look. Did you see that thin little dress she was wearing the other night out at the oil strike? You could see what Gilbert Harris had on his mind.”

  “I had a son, I’d be watching him like a hawk around a girl like her.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Blue Pumps began to walk toward the door. “Michael and I took a train all the way down to Brownsville once, and do you know that there were Mexicans not even thirteen years old waddling around big-bellied?”

  “Can’t help it, maybe.” Black Oxfords followed Blue Pumps to the door. “That kind will follow their animal urges.”

  Blue Pumps laughed, and then they were gone.

  Naomi stayed a long time in the stall, working her fingers through the tail of her braid, fighting to get free of their words.

  NAOMI On Saturday, Naomi woke up hungry for the river before the sun was even up. In the gray morning light she saw the twins snuggled together in Beto’s bed. Beto was burrowed into the pillow. Cari was sleeping on her side, snoring a little. The corner of her mouth glistened with drool.

  Naomi slipped on her dress and shoes and tiptoed into the bathroom. After she cleaned her teeth, she surveyed what she had on hand in the kitchen for breakfast. It was barely six; she couldn’t imagine that Wash would be down by the river yet. Since Henry had started playing Daddy, Naomi had seen Wash almost every weekend.

  She got out Muffy’s recipe for sweet rolls and started the dough. For once she wanted to be the one to spoil the twins a little. Last week Henry had taken them to Henderson to see Camille, the movie everyone at school was talking about. When he brought it up, Naomi had felt torn between her desire to stay away fr
om Henry and her interest in seeing the film that, according to Tommie, would make anybody with a heart cry. In the end, though, she didn’t get to decide. “You’ve probably got heaps to do around here,” Henry had said. “We’ll stay out of your hair for a while.” And then he and the twins were out the door.

  While the rolls were rising, Naomi cleaned the living room and did every chore she could without causing a racket. After half an hour, she shaped the dough, pressed it into cinnamon, and slid the rolls into the hot oven. It didn’t take long to wipe up the kitchen, and she found herself looking over her school things for what might interest Wash. She pulled out her last science assignment. It was marked with a B+, the best grade she’d ever gotten. Maybe she would show it to him.

  As soon as the rolls were done, Naomi wrapped four in a napkin, scribbled a note about going over to Tommie’s, and headed out the door with her books.

  WASH Wash got to the end of the path just in time to see her smile. He pulled the collar of his jacket up and headed toward her.

  “Studying?” he called.

  She looked up. Her dark eyes were flecked with points of reflected light. “I thought you might come.” She handed him one of the rolls. He finished it in two bites and reached for another. He’d skipped out on seconds at breakfast because he hadn’t wanted to miss the chance to see her.

  “Thanks. You make sweets like this for your sweethearts?” he asked.

  “Sweethearts?” She squinted at him. “You see any Mexican boys around here?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe back in San Antonio.”

  “No,” she said. “What do you do for your sweethearts?”

  “Don’t have one at the moment, but I’m hoping that might change.” He winked.

  A look he couldn’t read crossed her face. Or maybe it was just a change in the light. Clouds were rolling in and threatening rain.