by Liz Fichera
“Had to work late,” Dad said. His tone was cautious, like slow fingers checking the wires of a time bomb. “I brought dinner, though.” He raised a box of fried chicken in the air.
“Good.” Mom grinned. “After the day I had, I don’t feel like cooking.” She lifted her hands, spilling some of her beer, revealing splotchy fingers that had spent most of the day juggling hot plates.
Dad bent over to kiss her cheek before turning for the front door, and for a moment the corners of Mom’s eyes softened. “Just need to take a quick shower.” He reached for the torn screen door. It creaked whenever it opened. “I feel like I’m covered in golf course.”
Mom laughed and my throat tightened. Mom used to laugh a lot more. Everybody did.
Then Mom took a long swig from her shiny beer can before resting her narrowed eyes on me. Her head began to bob. “So, Freddy, tell me something that happened today. One happy thing.” She framed it like a challenge, as if answering was statistically impossible. A second beer can crunched underneath her sandal while she waited for my answer.
My mind raced. I sat in the plastic chair across from her and wondered how long it would be before I could retreat to the safety of my bedroom, if you could call it that. My room barely fit a twin bed and nightstand, but at least I didn’t have to sleep on the pull-out sofa in the living room like my older brother, Trevor. “Well,” I said, dragging my tongue across my lips to stall for time. There was no easy way to answer her question. I’d lose no matter what. “I got an A on a social-studies pop quiz today,” I said finally.
“Social studies?” Mom’s wet lips pulled back. She stared at me like I’d grown a third eye. Then she reached inside her blue cooler for another beer. “Who needs social studies? What exactly is that anyway? Social studies?” Her words ran into each other. “How’s that going to help you pay for your own trailer?”
My jaw clenched as I coaxed my breathing to slow. I knew this was only Mom’s warm-up, and I wouldn’t be dragged into it, not today. It wasn’t every day a high school coach begged you to join his team. I only hoped that Mom would drink the rest of her six-pack and pass out like she always did. Then I could practice next to the house where Dad had built me a putting green with carpet samples from the dump.
“I’m not real sure,” I said. “Anyway, it’s not that important.” I certainly wouldn’t share that I’d earned the highest score. That would only make the night more painful, especially for Dad, and I often wondered how much more he could take. He’d left us once, two years ago, and that had been the worst three months of my life.
Mom jabbed her third beer can at me, and a few foamy drops trickled down her fingers. “Don’t lie to me, girl.” Her face tightened into the mother I didn’t recognize. “I can always tell when you’re lying.” Her dark eyes narrowed to tiny slits as she peered at me over her beer can.
“I’m not. Really.” I rose from my chair, my toes pointed toward the trailer, anxious to be inside. “You want me to get you anything?” My voice turned higher. “I’ll heat up the chicken.”
Mom sighed heavily, slurped from her can and let her head drop back. She stared up at a purplish-blue sky where stars had begun to poke out like lost diamonds. The beer can crinkled in her hand. “No,” she said. “Just leave me alone. Everybody, just leave me the hell alone.”
I climbed the two concrete steps to the front door, biting my lower lip to keep from screaming. Even though we were surrounded by endless acres of open desert, sometimes it seemed like I lived in a soap bubble that was always ready to pop.
“Hey, Fred,” Mom said, stopping me.
I gripped the silver handle on the screen door and turned sideways to look at her.
“They’re short a couple of bussers at the restaurant. Wanna work tomorrow night?”
My jaw softened. “Sure. I need the money.” I’d been saving up for a new pair of golf shoes. A little more tip money and I’d have enough. And, thanks to Coach Lannon, I now had a reason to own a real pair.
Mom smiled and nodded her head back like she was trying to keep herself from falling asleep in her chair. “Good girl,” she slurred. “You’ll want to make sure the chef likes you so you’ll have a job there when you graduate.”
I bit the inside of my lip again till it stung. Then I quickly opened the door wider and darted inside. The screen door snapped shut behind me.
*
A crescent moon hung in the sky by the time Trevor coasted his motorcycle down our dirt driveway. Low and deep like a coyote’s growl, the engine blended with the desert. I knew it was Trevor because he always shut off the front headlights the closer he got to the trailer. Less chance of waking anyone, even the dogs.
I waited for him on the putting green. With my rusty putter, I sank golf balls into the plastic cups that Dad had wedged into the carpet samples. Dad had even nailed skinny, foot-high red flags into each of the ten cups to make it look authentic. The homemade putting green wasn’t exactly regulation, but it was better than nothing, and he had been so excited to surprise me with it for my birthday last year. The moon, along with the kitchen light over the sink from inside the house, provided just enough of a glow over six of the twelve holes.
“Hey, Freddy,” Trevor said after parking his bike next to the van. The Labs trailed on either side of him, panting excitedly.
“Hey, yourself,” I said after sinking another putt, this time into a hole near the edge that I couldn’t see. I liked the hollow sound the ball made every time it found the edges of the cup. It was strangely comforting. And predictable. The ball swirled against the plastic like it was trapped before resting at the bottom with a satisfied clunk. “How was work?”
“Oh, you know, same shit, different day.” Trevor’s usual reply.
I smirked at his answer. I should be used to it by now, but a small part of me wished that once, just once, he’d surprise me with something different. Something better. Something that could take my breath away.
Trevor worked at a gas station in Casa Grande off the Interstate doing minor car repairs like fixing tires and replacing batteries when he wasn’t making change for the never-ending cigarette and liquor purchases. His long fingers ran through the sides of his thick black hair as he waited for me to pull back my club for the next putt. His hair hung past his shoulders, all knotty and wild from his ride. If he wasn’t my brother, I’d have to say that he looked like one scary Indian.
“When are you going to quit that job?” I looked up at him.
“And do what?” He chuckled but not in a sarcastic way.
“I don’t know,” I said, purposely casual. I struck the ball and looked at him. “Go back to school, maybe?” I walked over to the cup and reached inside for the ball. “You always said you wanted to open up a repair shop one day.”
“Don’t need school for that, Fred.” He sat on the edge of the carpet, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles.
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
“Yeah, well, when I win the lottery, I’ll let you know.” He looked up at the kitchen window and lowered his voice. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.”
I swallowed. I worked hard not to picture the future at all. I couldn’t imagine working at the gas station, the restaurant or even the Indian casino for the rest of my life. Whenever I did, it felt like someone pressing on my chest with both hands.
“Mom?” Trevor said.
“Asleep. Finally.” I laid down my putter and sat next to him, pulling my bare knees into my chest. “So’s Dad. I think.”
“Bad night?”
My shoulders shrugged. “Same shit, different day,” I said, regretting it instantly. I hated swearing. My chin dropped to my knees.
“You don’t mean that, Fred.” Trevor placed his arm across my shoulder and pulled me closer. “You really don’t want to let yourself get angry. Because once you start, it’s hard to stop.” His voice turned softer. “Look what it’s done to Mom.”
My eyes closed as I sank de
eper into the corner of his arm. His shirt smelled like grease and cigarette smoke, but I didn’t care.
“And just remember,” Trevor said, “it hasn’t always been like this.”
“It’s getting harder to remember when it wasn’t.”
He pulled me closer, and together we stared up at the stars. There were so many filling the sky that there didn’t seem to be enough room for the moon.
“Are you staying home tonight?” I lowered my chin to my knees again. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled, and both Labs lifted their snouts from their paws long enough to grumble.
“Nope.” He stroked the smooth coat of the black Lab next to him. “Just gonna go inside for a quick shower and change.”
“Where to tonight?”
“Not sure. There’s a party in the Estrellas—”
“Take me?” I interrupted, sucking in a breath.
“No way. You’re too young.” His stock answer. In Trevor’s mind, I was perpetually ten years old.
“Am not.” I frowned. “I’m sixteen.”
“Forget it, Fred. You can’t come. This crowd isn’t for you.”
“What crowd is?”
“Not this one.”
“Killjoy.” I lightly punched my fist against his chest. I never went to parties. I never got invited to any either. It was depressing, really. “Will you come home after that?” My tone remained hopeful.
“I’ll probably head over to Ruth’s. Haven’t seen her in a couple of days.” Ruth was Trevor’s girlfriend. They’d been dating for almost a year, but Ruth lived on the other side of the Rez near Coolidge. Between Trevor’s job and Ruth’s night shifts at the Walmart, they didn’t see each other very often.
“How about tomorrow?” My eyebrows pulled together as I felt the weekend sinking away. I was probably the only teenager in all of Phoenix who counted down the hours till Monday mornings.
Trevor’s eyes squinted into the darkness. “Not sure.”
“Oh.” I swallowed back more disappointment. Home was always way more fun when Trevor was around. The air inside the trailer felt lighter. Mom didn’t snap at everyone as much, probably because Trevor was always making her laugh, knowing exactly when to lift her spirits right before they threatened to nosedive.
“Don’t worry, Freddy. I’ll be back Sunday. Monday at the latest.”
With a heavy sigh, I lifted off his shoulder and padded across the carpet to where I’d left my putter and golf ball. I placed the ball about six feet away from the nearest cup. I could barely see the hole, but I gripped the club handle, right hand over left, and pulled back the club just enough before hearing the satisfying plunk inside the cup. I smiled when it hit bottom.
“Good shot,” Trevor said, standing. “Hey. How’d it go today with Lannon?” Trevor was the first person I’d told about the coach’s offer to join the team, even before Dad. But I hadn’t told Trevor the whole story.
“He asked me to be on the team,” I said with mock disinterest. “And I accepted.”
“No kidding?” His teeth glistened in the moonlight. “That’s great. Congrats.”
“There’s just one catch,” I said as I sank another putt.
“What?” He laughed. “He didn’t dig your groovilicious golf bag or something?”
I ignored his jab. “I’m on the team.” I paused, making him wait. “It’s just that I’m officially on the boys’ varsity team.”
Silence.
Trevor’s neck pulled back. In the soft glow, I watched the whites of his eyes grow dangerously wide. If he hadn’t been certifiably scary-Indian-looking before, he was now.
I lowered my gaze, focusing on the ball.
“Um, Freddy, did you say the boys’ team?”
“Yep,” I said, popping the p. “Lone Butte doesn’t have a girls’ team.”
He scratched the side of his head, considering this. “I don’t know, Fredders. A boys’ team? A bunch of spoiled, rich white boys? That doesn’t sound…”
“What?” I prodded.
“Normal,” he blurted finally.
My voice got louder. “Why not?”
His voice got louder. “Because the boys there ain’t gonna like it.”
“And why not?”
He stepped closer, his hands jammed in his front jean pockets. “Because that means you’re taking someone’s spot, someone who’ll think he deserves it more than you.”
Air sputtered through my lips. “Well, that’s just stupid,” I said. “What’ll it matter, if we win tournaments? The coach told me I was probably the best player on his team.”
Trevor chuckled as his chin pulled closer to his neck. “Oh, great. He told you that, too? Believe me, Freddy. It’ll matter. It’ll matter to someone.”
I swallowed hard but said nothing. Till now, I’d never thought that I’d be taking someone else’s spot. I’d thought Coach Lannon had merely created a new one. He was the coach, after all. Couldn’t he do such things?
“You’re being paranoid,” I said finally.
“Am I?” His doubtful tone caused a line of goose bumps to fly up my neck. “Just be careful,” he said before turning toward the front door. “You’re gonna need to watch your back. Stick close to the other kids from the Rez when you’re at school, at least at first.”
“That might be kind of hard. Not to mention freaky.” There were only seven Rez kids in my entire school, four boys and three girls, including me. Kelly Oliver and Yolanda Studi were both seniors. Kelly was the only other person I’d ever heard utter the word college, mostly because she wanted to become a nurse. Yolanda was her cousin and best friend, and I was pretty sure Kelly was the only reason she hadn’t dropped out. Yolanda had a mouth and attitude worse than my mother. Then there were Sam Tracy, Peter Begay, Martin Ellis and Vernon Parker. Vernon was a freshman, skinny and quiet as a saguaro; Martin was a sophomore; and Sam and Peter were my age. Sam was big enough to play football, but he had no desire to be on the Lone Butte team. Like most of my people, there were trust issues with anyone off the Rez that ran so deep I couldn’t begin to understand where the puzzle pieces started and where they ended.
I’d known these Rez kids my whole life; they were like family, even if we rarely hung out. They all lived miles away from our trailer. But just like family, whenever we bumped into each other, like in the school hallways or sometimes in the cafeteria, our conversations pretty much continued where we’d left off, whether it had been a day, a month or even six months.
“Just promise me you’ll stick close to them. Will you do that, Fred?” Trevor said again.
I nodded reluctantly, not because I didn’t love my friends, but because I certainly didn’t need any babysitters. “Turn the light out for me? In the kitchen?”
“Why?” he said, opening the screen door.
“I want to make sure I can sink putts with my eyes closed.”
“You’re possessed.” He chuckled again.
“Maybe,” I murmured but not loud enough for him to hear.
I swung my club back just below my waist and waited for the whirling noise of the ball against the plastic rim. It spun around and around before it finally settled in the bottom of the cup.
I could sink putts all night.
1 A Native American ceremonial dance expressing harmony with the Universe.
2 Rez is short for Reservation. It’s what all the cool Indian kids say. I try to be cool when I can.
Chapter 2
Ryan
“DUDE, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU been?”
I ran to Seth’s silver pickup and threw open the passenger door before the truck had a chance to stop.
Seth slammed the brake, and the truck lurched forward. Under the dim glow of the dome light, his grayish-blue eyes narrowed as he glared at me. “What are you, my mother?”
Friday night was definitely off to a bad start.
I was already fighting with my best friend, and I hadn’t even jumped in his truck yet.
I shook my head and climb
ed in anyway, slamming the door. My heart was racing a million miles a minute. “Just blow,” I told Seth, sinking lower into my seat and not bothering with the seat belt.
“Okay, man. Whatever.” Seth shifted the gear. “We’re outta here.”
Just hearing those words lightened my shoulders.
The tires screeched across our circular driveway and then straightened toward Pecos Road. The front end almost took out a saguaro near the mailbox next to the street, but Seth didn’t lift his foot from the accelerator for a second. He always drove crazy that way. Crazy Seth. Even crazier than me.
Seth didn’t bother asking me what was wrong either. He already knew. “Where to?”
“Anywhere.” I pulled my baseball cap lower on my head.
“Fisher is having a ripper. His parents are in Hawaii.” Seth’s eyebrows wiggled.
The night was improving exponentially.
“Some of the girls from pom team were invited, too.” He shot me a sideways glance. “Maybe even Gwyneth…” His voice trailed off in a grin.
The corner of my mouth turned up in a careful smile.
Gwyneth Riordan had been hot for me since the eighth grade. Don’t ask me why, but I’d have had to have been blind not to notice and crazy not to want her. I was a little of both. We usually hooked up on the weekends and had become a couple by default.
“Beer?” I breathed easier the farther we got from my street.
“Some.” Seth’s head tilted toward the backseat. I turned and spied a brown bag. He could always swipe a six-pack from his stepdad’s stash unnoticed. “Where’s yours?”
“My dad was home,” I grumbled, remembering that my original plans for tomorrow night were now officially deep-sixed. “I couldn’t chance it. But I need something stronger.”
Seth pulled a hand over his chin, considering. “Like what?” he said carefully.
“Anything.”
“You got cheddar?” It really wasn’t a question.
