by Liz Fichera
Mom’s face crumpled. “How did that happen?”
A nervous chuckle. “I guess I put it there.”
“You put it there?” Dad said. “On purpose?”
I didn’t answer.
“Do you realize what this might do to your chances for getting into U of A? Or any college?”
I shrugged my shoulders again. I hadn’t given it a thought. College wasn’t exactly high on my list.
“Do you realize the strings I’ll have to pull for you now? How could you be so careless?”
My head turned numb.
“Who was your partner?” Dad asked.
I opened my mouth but then thought better of it.
“Who?” he prodded.
“Fred Oday,” I said finally.
“That Indian girl?”
I nodded.
“I had a bad feeling about her,” Dad said, turning to Mom. “But your son never listens to me. Never.”
“My son?” Mom’s eyes widened.
I knew that I should have stayed quiet, but I chuckled again. “Kinda hard to stay away from her, Dad. We’re on the same team—well, were.”
Dad turned his angry gaze on me. “Don’t be flippant.”
I knew it was weird and all wrong, but it felt good to disappoint him for once, at least when I meant to. I was finally living up to their low expectations. And Mom was so crazy pissed that she didn’t know whether to speak or blink. Finally, she just gave up and covered her mouth with her hand while shaking her head at me.
“Well, I’m going to call the coach first thing tomorrow and get this whole thing straightened—” Dad began.
“No, Dad,” I said, the only calm one in the kitchen besides Riley. “Don’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because I deserved it.”
At least that part was one hundred percent true.
Chapter 41
Fred
THE NEXT DAY, I walked into Lone Butte High School alone and with real purpose. Not numb or embarrassed. Determined.
I scanned the faces in the courtyard and the hallways, even the ones that stared back at me like I was some kind of freak. After dumping my golf bag in Coach Lannon’s office, I started searching for Ryan. The library and studying would have to wait. I needed to talk to Ryan before Homeroom and sort out this whole tournament-disqualification mess. Surviving the weekend without knowing the truth about the extra club would be impossible. I needed to hear it directly from him. He owed me that much. I’d make him owe me that much.
And the one time I was brave enough to troll among all the popular cliques in the courtyard turned out to be the one time that I couldn’t find Ryan anywhere.
Typical.
Normally he was seated in the center of everything with Gwyneth Riordan hanging on his shoulder like she had a balance problem.
But, of course, not today.
I passed Seth Winter, though. He and Gwyneth stood near the courtyard fountain, whispering. I pretended to ignore their obvious glares as I passed. Clearly word traveled fast, even at an enormous school like Lone Butte. No matter what I’d accomplish from this day forward, I’d probably always be known as that crazy Indian girl who cheated at golf.
On the small chance that Ryan was hiding in the stacks, I checked the library cubicles, too.
Nothing.
I raced outside to the parking lot and hunted for Ryan’s Jeep. It was usually parked in the first row near the middle. But a bright blue Volkswagen Bug with a sunflower wrapped around the antenna trespassed in Ryan’s usual spot. I cursed the happy car before walking back inside.
The first warning bell rang, and I turned, reluctantly, for Homeroom. But then I realized that I’d see Ryan in English, and my pace quickened.
Time had to move faster today. It just plain had to.
After an excruciatingly long Homeroom, I walked to English behind a wall of students, mind-melding with the back of their heads to move their feet faster. Faster, faster, faster! I screamed inside my head.
I had already decided that I would ditch for the first time in my entire life if Ryan would agree to talk with me. The seven minutes between classes hardly seemed long enough to have one of the most important conversations of my entire life.
I waited outside the door to Mrs. Weisz’s English class and watched students stream inside. My chest tightened as the hallway began to drain of students and clatter. I kept glancing from the wall clock inside the room to the hallway. With less than one minute before the bell, I turned anxiously toward the hallway again. Instead of Ryan, Seth Winter sauntered toward me with his backpack dangling over his shoulder. My jaw hardened the instant my eyes landed on his icy grin.
His nose wrinkled. “Frrr-eed,” he said, stretching out my name into two syllables. He stood so close that our noses were near enough to touch. I took a step back from his barrel of a pit bull chest but only backed into the wall. “Waiting for someone?”
“I—I—” I stammered. Of course, words failed me when I needed them most.
“If you’re waiting for Ryan, I’ll save you the trouble. He’s not in school today.”
I blinked. “Oh, okay.” I turned for the door, desperate to be anywhere other than standing eyeball-level with Seth Winter.
But Seth pulled back on my arm.
I turned, startled, as Seth’s icy smile faded. If ever I’d wanted Sam Tracy beside me, now was that time.
“You’ve really messed up his head, Pocahontas,” he whispered. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m not doing anything. And you’re demented. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I turned, but Seth yanked on my elbow. This time his fingers pinched.
“Sure you do,” Seth said with an eye roll. “Don’t play stupid.”
My teeth clenched. “Leave me alone.” I jerked my arm out of his hand and walked through the door.
The bell rang, and I hurried to my seat. Quickly, I sank into the safety of my plastic chair before I noticed a folded note on my desk. I opened it, and a tiny yellow flower dropped out—a wildflower, like the ones that grew at the end of Pecos Road.
Mrs. Weisz started to say something about Macbeth and an upcoming essay, but I only half listened. I leaned forward and carefully unfolded the note so that it lay flat on my notebook. I sucked in a breath and read:
Fred,
I need to see you. Can you meet me tonight at 8 o’clock at the end of Pecos Road? It’s important. Please?
Ryan
P.S. You seriously need a cell phone.
I read it again.
And again.
The words made me smile. He wanted to see me, too.
My fingertips brushed across the black letters. The letters were angled funny, like they were written in a hurry. I brought the flower to my nose and inhaled. The petals were fresh, recently picked.
Carefully, I folded the flower back inside the note. I turned to Jon Romano, seated behind me. “Did you see who left this note on my desk?” I whispered, lifting the folded note.
Jon’s pale brow furrowed. No, he mouthed before taking a hit from his asthma inhaler.
“Did you have a question, Miss Oday?” Mrs. Weisz said, pausing from her lecture. “A comment, perhaps?”
The room silenced.
I cleared my throat. “No, sorry. No question.”
Mrs. Weisz returned to the whiteboard, and I slid Ryan’s note into the pocket of my notebook.
Sneaking off to the end of Pecos Road again wasn’t exactly how I planned to make things right with Ryan, but it was better than not talking at all. It was all I could do to keep from bursting before school ended.
*
During lunch period, I didn’t bother scanning the cafeteria for Ryan.
All of his friends sat around his usual table by the window—Gwyneth, Henry, Seth, Zack, Troy. Only Gwyneth looked up at me curiously when I walked through the front entrance. For a rare moment, her mouth snapped s
hut and her eyes shot arrows at me. It didn’t matter that we had never said more than a handful of words to each other, not since gym class freshman year when we’d been paired together for badminton. She hadn’t seemed so bad back then. What had happened to her in the past two years to make her the nastiest girl in school?
I pretended to ignore the weight of Gwyneth’s stare and hunted instead for an empty table where I could eat my lunch in peace. I found one just inside the door and slipped into a seat that faced away from the windows. Even though I had absolutely no appetite, I reached inside my backpack for my lunch bag and a book, mostly to keep my hands and eyes busy. Just as I took a bite of leftover fry bread smothered in honey, someone approached me from behind.
“Fred?” said a voice that I didn’t recognize. It was too high for Kelly and definitely too sweet for Yolanda.
I turned my chin over my right shoulder a fraction. Then my eyes looked up.
A lanky girl with straight shoulder-length blondish-brown hair smiled down at me.
“Hi?” I said, wondering if the girl had me confused with someone else.
But the girl swallowed and took a step closer. Her books pressed against her chest like a shield. “I’m Riley Berenger. Ryan’s sister?” She said it like it was a question, almost as if I wouldn’t know anyone named Ryan Berenger.
I sucked back a breath at the sound of Ryan’s name. “Oh,” I said, as I began to take in the familiar shape and color of her eyes above a ribbon of dainty freckles. They shared the same exact eye color, blue as a morning sky. Definitely related.
“You mind if I eat with you?” Riley carried an armful of books but no lunch.
“Sure.” I motioned to the table.
Riley smiled, relieved. She pulled back the seat right next to mine, bumping her knee against the chair in the process. “I wasn’t sure if you’d know me, being that I’m a sophomore and all.”
One corner of my mouth curled up. “I remember you from Ryan’s party.” Only, this time she wasn’t hidden in the stairwell shadows.
Her eyes brightened. “Studying Macbeth?” Riley nodded at my unopened book.
“Trying.” My nose wrinkled. “It’s not my favorite.”
Riley’s nose wrinkled, too. “I’ll have that next year.”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” I said. “Would you like some bread?”
Her eyes widened. “That looks so good. Did you make it yourself?”
“No. My mom did.” A rare treat. I tore off a chunk.
“We only eat fry bread when we go to the fair.”
I nodded, then took another bite, wondering why Riley Berenger had sought me out, of all people in the lunchroom.
“I wanted to tell you something,” she said, as if she could read my mind. Her voice changed to a whisper. “About my brother.”
I paused from chewing.
“He’s a lot of things, but he’s not like that.”
I swallowed. “Like what?”
“He told me about the tournament. He would never have put his club in your bag. Not on purpose. I swear it.”
I put the bread onto my napkin. Then I smiled at Riley. “I know.”
Riley’s bony shoulders caved forward underneath her pink tank top. “Good. I’m really glad you know that.” She paused, dragging her tongue across her lips. They had become shiny with honey from Mom’s bread. “He’s a pretty good brother, actually. Once you get to know him.”
“Why isn’t he in school today?”
“He told my mom he wasn’t feeling well.” Riley frowned and rolled her eyes. “But he drove me to school and then left before Homeroom.”
“So he came into the building?”
“Yeah. Just to drop off a term paper or something. But he left right after that.”
“Too bad. I was hoping to talk to him.”
Riley’s head tilted to one side. “Maybe I can help?”
“Thanks, but that’s okay. I already got his note.”
“What note?”
“He left me a note for me in English class.”
“Oh. So that’s what he had to drop off,” she said. “He probably wants to tell you the news.”
“What news?”
Riley’s small mouth twisted into a ball. “Well, he’ll probably want to tell you himself….”
My eyes widened. I wondered if this had anything to do with golf. “Tell me, what?”
Riley sat back, clearly worried that she’d shared too much.
“Please,” I begged.
Finally, she spilled it. “He’s going to live with our uncle Mark for a while.” Her whole expression crumpled.
“In Phoenix?” My eyes widened.
“No. In San Francisco.”
My jaw dropped. Riley might as well have said the moon. “But why?”
Riley shrugged, but I suspected there was more she wasn’t telling me. “Could you do me a huge favor?”
“Sure!” she gushed.
“Tell your brother I’ll meet him tonight, exactly as he asked. Eight o’clock on Pecos Road.”
“Okay.” She seemed pleased to be the messenger. “I’ll tell him as soon as I get home.”
“Thanks, Riley,” I said, as my appetite vanished. Now it was official. I would see Ryan tonight. “Want some more fry bread? I can’t finish it.”
Riley nodded at the bread hungrily.
“I’ll bring you some next week, if my mom makes more.” I pushed the last slice toward her.
Her face brightened all over again. “I’d like that. Thanks.”
Riley stared at me, her gaze sweeping across my face but not in the usual way that I had grown accustomed to. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was in admiration. “Now I know why Ryan has been acting so weird lately,” she said suddenly.
I felt my cheeks tingle. “Why? What has he told you?”
“My brother?” Her lips sputtered. “Not a word.”
“Nothing?” I replied, disappointed.
“He didn’t need to. I may be a sophomore, but I’m not stupid.”
*
I stared at my reflection in the small round mirror nailed to the back of my bedroom door.
I dragged my hands through my hair and then frowned in the dim light, wondering why I was getting all paranoid about my appearance. The sky would be marble-black when I met Ryan at the end of Pecos Road. It would be just as easy to show up covered in a hoodie.
My eyes darted again to the alarm clock. I’d already carved out a mile between the edge of my bed and my closet, trying to coax time to move faster. I hadn’t stopped pacing since I got home from school. I’d practiced all the things I wanted to say to Ryan but then had berated myself when they sounded silly and childish. Just let Ryan talk, let him explain, I’d decided. That would be best.
I frowned at the clock again. Then I decided to start walking.
The trailer was mostly empty. Mom had left for work, and Trevor hadn’t been home since Wednesday. I tiptoed past Dad. He was sleeping in the living room on his favorite chair, his legs propped up, snoring the night away.
I smiled at him. Sunday’s newspaper lay in his lap, the same one with the tiny story about me in the sports section, the one where the reporter gushed about my winning streak. Dad had bought five copies and said that he was going to put one copy in a glass frame and hang it in the hallway with the rest of the family pictures. He hadn’t been able to stop gloating about it. Because of the story in the Arizona Republic, I even had brief mentions in Indian Country Today and the Navajo Times, to which Dad proudly proclaimed, “Even the Navajo are impressed, Fred!”
Holding back a breath, I walked the perimeter of the living room floor on the spots that groaned the least till I finally reached the front door. The screen door made the faintest pop when it opened but not enough to excite the dogs.
On the front step, I inhaled a deep breath of the cool evening air and pulled my sweater more tightly around my neck. Fall had finally arrived.
I pulled my shoulders
back and walked straight into the desert toward answers and the end of Pecos Road.
I didn’t use the flashlight until I reached the desert wash that ran perpendicular to Pecos Road. I knew the path by heart.
The edges of the wash were smooth and mostly flat, perfect for walking. The bottoms were still moist from heavy September monsoons and bounced with reflections from the moon and stars. Only my footsteps and breathing competed with the desert surrounding me: coyotes howling near the base of the Estrella Mountains, jackrabbits rustling underneath sage and the occasional hoot owl from the top of a saguaro. As familiar as my own hands. Nothing unusual.
The closer I got to Pecos Road, the easier it was to see the faint orange glow of the Phoenix streetlights. I began to hum and swing my arms forward, the flashlight making yellow half circles across the desert.
My heartbeat leaped when I spotted the bright white headlights of a single vehicle parked at the end of Pecos Road.
It’s Ryan. And he’s early.
I stopped, felt a smile fill my face and signaled my arrival with a couple of flicks from my flashlight.
Ryan waited just like last time, brightening the last stretch of my path with his headlights. He flashed his brights when I signaled with my flashlight.
I began to jog, jumping over a line of low sage bushes as if they were track hurdles. Anxious, I ran straight into the light beams, unable to bite back my smile.
Breathless from running, I stopped and waved one arm overhead. Ryan tooted the Jeep’s horn and flashed the headlights one last time.
I beamed into the headlights.
But then the Jeep began to move down the pavement and cross over a broken piece of barbed wire.
My happiness froze. “Don’t!” I yelled, lifting my palms and sprinting forward as fast as I could run. He had to stop. I had already warned him about the Tribal Police. Sure, our tribe might not have had a whole fleet, but if Ryan got caught driving on Rez land, he would get arrested for trespassing and my parents would finally have a reason to ground me for the first time in my entire life, especially when the police would inform them that I was meeting a boy they’d never met in the middle of the dark desert. Not cool.
Despite my warnings, the Jeep didn’t stop. I thought maybe it was because I was too far away. Maybe he didn’t see my flashlight. Or maybe he was more anxious to see me than I thought.
