by Liz Fichera
I halted at the end of the wash and watched helplessly as his tires squealed when they left the pavement. They ground into the soft dirt, lifting a smokelike dust cloud over the desert.
I lifted my hands to shield my eyes. I tasted his dust.
“Stop!” I screamed but the Jeep’s engine drowned out my voice. “Stop!” I yelled again, squinting through my fingers, but the headlights raced straight for me.
The motor revved.
Instead of slowing, oddly, the Jeep charged faster through the desert. “What are you doing, Ryan?” I muttered.
My pulse began to pound at my temples as the headlights got closer. I took a step back, and then another, as the Jeep’s tires ground harder and faster into the dirt. They pointed straight in my direction.
Somewhere deep inside me, my legs told me what to do before my brain took over.
My flashlight slipped from my hand and landed in the dirt. I didn’t stop to pick it up. Instead, I began to run backward, my feet heavy as my heels dug into the ground.
But then I moved faster.
Every nerve, every muscle in my body sprang into survival. Nausea built deep in my throat, but I swallowed it back. Something felt very wrong.
I turned and raced back into the darkest part of the desert, away from the Phoenix streetlights and away from Pecos Road, as fast as my legs could carry me. Most of all, I ran away from the bright headlights. If I didn’t, I was certain that the front tires would mow right over me like I didn’t exist.
Way out here, no one but my ancestors would ever know.
Chapter 42
Ryan
WHEN RILEY RETURNED HOME AFTER DINNER, I was sprawled across the couch in the family room, my legs crossed at the ankles, parked in front of the television and chilling.
I watched the screen with my iPod blaring—anything to stop my brain from drifting to painful places.
At least things would be different once I got to Uncle Mark’s.
Uncle Mark was Dad’s younger brother but different in all the ways that counted. Sometimes I had a hard time believing they were related. Anyway, he always told me that I could visit whenever I wanted. He knew what Dad was like. “Your father is a great guy, but he expects everyone to be as driven as he is. Don’t hold it against him,” he had told me once.
When I’d called Uncle Mark last night to ask if I could finish my school year in San Francisco, he’d said yes without hesitation, almost as if he’d been expecting my call. Mom and Dad had barely put up a fight, which was rare for them. In fact, I’d sensed relief when I’d told them about it. Maybe a break would be good.
And now everybody was happy. Mostly.
In my periphery, I watched Riley tiptoe into the room, all catlike. She tossed her pink gym bag at my feet. This was a little game we’d always played. Riley tried to scare me, and I let her think she succeeded.
“Hey!” I yelled, mostly for effect, but then I smirked when she stuck out her tongue. I pulled out my earbuds.
“How’s your sore throat?” She pouted at me innocently and then faked a cough before plopping into the chair across from me. Gold-and-red pillows swished around her, and one fell to the floor as she drew her knees to her chest.
I bit back a grin. “Shut up and leave me alone.”
“Can’t,” she said. “It’s my mission in life to bug you.”
“Well, you get a big star. Where’ve you been?”
“Dance practice.” She chomped hard on a piece of gum. “I’m starved. Where’s Mom?”
“Where do you think?”
Riley sighed. “You hungry?”
“Already ate,” I said. “There’s leftover lasagna from last night in the fridge. Mom left a note.”
“Humph.” Riley blinked at her wristwatch. “Hey.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Aren’t you going to be late?” She tapped her watch with a fingertip.
I chuckled. “For what?” Unless someone put a stick of dynamite underneath the couch, I had no plans to change positions until Dad got home.
But Riley’s eyes narrowed at me, all irritated. “Please tell me you are not going to blow her off.”
“Blow her off? Blow who off?”
“Your note.”
“What note?” I sat up. “Riley, what are you talking about?” I reached for the remote and switched off the television.
“Didn’t you leave a note for Fred this morning?”
“Noo,” I said, stretching out the syllable.
Her voice rose an octave. “Seriously? You seriously didn’t give Fred a note telling her to meet you tonight?”
“No,” I said again, feeling my eyes widen. I stood up. “Where was I supposed to meet her?” Never mind that my little sister could carry on a normal conversation with Fred Oday while I messed it up every chance I got.
Riley stared across at me, her face turning paler. “She said something about…” Her brow furrowed.
“Where, Riley?” I stood over her. “Think. Where was I supposed to meet her?”
Her voice wavered. “I think she said something about…Pecos Road?” She winced like she wasn’t entirely sure.
“What time?” My breathing quickened.
Riley glanced down at her wristwatch. “Five minutes ago.”
Without another word, I sprinted into the kitchen for my car keys.
“I’m coming with you!” Riley followed me into the garage.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. And you can’t stop me.”
Riley climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep, and I didn’t stop her because there was no time to argue.
The garage door opened, and my foot was already on the accelerator. “Come on, come on!” I told the rearview mirror. “Open!”
“Your seat belt, Ryan,” Riley instructed, strangely calm.
I latched the seat belt across my chest with one hand and steered with the other. As soon as the door opened, I floored the Jeep to the end of the driveway. The rear tires squealed the second they touched the street.
Then we flew out of our cul-de-sac and onto the main road. Riley didn’t make a sound or threaten to tell Mom about my crazy driving. It wouldn’t matter anyway. My foot cemented itself to the accelerator.
“What’s wrong?” Riley broke the silence as soon as we turned onto Pecos Road. “Are you going to tell me?”
I didn’t answer. I was too busy grinding my foot against the pedal and gripping the steering wheel as if I could rip it from the column.
Riley turned sideways, her voice wavering again. “Is this my fault? Did I do something wrong?”
I didn’t answer. I was too busy picturing Seth Winter’s face at the end of my fist. Or worse.
“Please, Ryan.” Riley’s voice began to crack. “Tell me. Tell me what I did wrong. Is Fred going to be okay?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said through gritted teeth. “But I did.”
“What do you mean? How?”
I sighed inwardly. It would take all night to explain.
We sped the rest of the way down Pecos Road in silence, the plastic windows slapping in the wind. Thankfully the road was mostly deserted, but it still felt like we were going too slow. At last the Phoenix streetlights ended and the desert turned as black as ink, all except for two round, bright lights. They kept turning in circles.
“What’s that?” Riley hissed, peering forward against the windshield.
The lights were well off the street on the other side of the barbed wire. As we got closer, the lights turned almost yellow from the dirt clouds swirling around them. It was like watching candles flicker in the middle of a tornado.
“That’s a truck,” I said, breathing hard.
“What’s a truck doing so far off the road? And isn’t that Indian land?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I yelled, “Hold on!”
Before Riley could grip the strap above her door, my foot slammed harder against the accelerator until all four tires left the smooth pavem
ent.
The Jeep sailed headfirst into the dirt.
Chapter 43
Fred
COLD SWEAT TRICKLED behind my ears, but that didn’t stop me from running.
Panting till my ribs ached, I ran alongside the path next to the wash, the same way I’d come, but this time my shoes sank into the soft dirt. It was like running in slow motion.
The heaviness in my step didn’t slow the truck, though. It only drove faster. A stereo blared from inside the cab, heavy metal with angry electric guitar. The closer it got, the louder it became, its engine grinding over the sound.
The headlights washed over me with blinding light.
And the lights only got brighter.
Finally the beams blanketed my body like a net, impossible to outrun. I looked for places to hide, but the desert was barren and as flat as cardboard. It would have been easier to outrun a sunrise.
When my heart threatened to leap out of my chest, I fell to my knees in the dirt. I could run no more. I gasped for air, shielding my head with both arms, heaving in bits of dirt with each breath. Dust covered the air, covered me. It filled my ears and nose. It stung my eyes.
But the truck and the music still barreled for me.
I screamed as the truck skidded alongside me, its front tires missing my body by inches before it started to circle me once, then twice, like I was an animal in a rodeo. Dirt swirled everywhere, turning the headlights hazy, choking me, hiding the moon.
Still shielding my face, I tucked low to the ground, dusted with dirt. I peered through my fingers at the settling dust as the truck made another turn. I finally got a good look. It was a silver pickup, the monster kind that looked like it could tow an elephant.
Then I saw the driver’s face.
My body shivered with more fear than I’d ever known. His eyes glared at me through the open window, laughing.
“Seth,” I exhaled, dragging the name out of my mouth. A sharp pain shot through my chest, a mixture of dread and too much adrenaline.
When the dust finally settled and we were able to lock eyes, Seth turned off the stereo, and the desert turned silent again, except for the grumble from his engine. “Freaked ya, didn’t I?” He said it loudly. As if he liked it. “And you thought I was Ryan.” His lips turned downward into a fake pout. “Sorry. He couldn’t make it tonight. He’s out with his girlfriend.”
I didn’t know whether to cry or scream, but neither would be helpful. No one would hear me in the middle of the desert. I tried to stand, but my knees shook from running and fear. I fell back onto one knee after my first try.
This pleased Seth.
He tossed his head back and laughed while I struggled to speak, struggled to breathe.
Finally, with all my strength I said, “What do you w-want?” My tongue dragged over my lips, tasting a layer of dust clinging to my lip gloss.
“What do I w-w-want?” Seth stuttered. His smile slowly morphed into something subhuman. His glare turned sharper beneath his backward baseball cap. All of his pale features glowed sickly green against the dashboard lights. He slapped the side of his truck with his hand. “Finally. Someone asks what I want.” He paused to smack his lips, like he had to give my question serious thought. “I’ll tell you what I want, you freaking Indian,” he snapped.
I swallowed, hard.
“I want you to stop hanging around Ryan—and his sister, too!” he said. “Neither one can stand the sight of you. Can’t you take a hint?”
I nodded, mostly so that he’d leave me alone.
“And tell your boy Tracy that this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. He can’t sucker punch Ryan and get away with it. Next time we’ll be ready.”
I nodded again. If I told Sam, Trevor, Peter and the others, I hated to think what they’d do to Seth Winter. Not that Seth wouldn’t deserve it. “I’ll tell Sam,” I said, but the words stuck in my dry throat. I wasn’t sure if he heard me.
With my pulse racing, I slowly moved my eyes to peer for the path alongside the wash. When Seth had chased me in circles, I’d gotten all turned around. I didn’t know whether I faced north or south.
“Are you deaf, too?” he snarled, threatening me with another rev of the accelerator.
I jumped at the engine’s growl. Then I nodded numbly, wishing that I could stop my legs from shaking.
“Good,” he said. “And one other thing…” His hand dragged over his chin.
I watched him warily, waiting for the chase to begin all over again. “What?” I said, still breathing heavily. “Anything.” My answer pleased him again, just like I thought it would.
Seth grinned. “I want you to quit the golf team. Or this isn’t over.” More rage filled his face. “You shouldn’t be on the team. The coach should never have let you just walk on.” He spat at my feet.
I didn’t flinch from his spit. And my eyes couldn’t leave his.
“I had to try out. Why not you? Where do you get off?”
Just as I was about to speak, another car approached behind me, its engine grinding across the desert just as Seth’s had. I glanced quickly over my shoulder. Two tiny lights appeared in the distance.
They got closer.
The driver flashed his lights, and my heart started to race faster again. I looked back at Seth. His face turned even paler in the dashboard’s glow, almost ghostlike, as the headlights approached. He squinted into the distance.
“What the…?” Seth muttered, sitting straighter.
As he studied the approaching car, I began to creep closer to the wash. First just an inch and then a handful more. I could see the path. The small bit of water at the wash’s bottom sparkled in the glow of Seth’s headlights.
I wondered if Seth noticed, but he was too fixated on the approaching car.
If I ran alongside the wash, it would take me straight home.
Home. How I wanted to be there.
“Hold up,” Seth growled as I began to slip away. He revved the engine, warning me. “We’re not done yet!”
But the other car came closer. It raced across the desert, its engine growing louder. The headlights bounced wildly against the darkness, and the driver never slowed.
Seth answered with a rev from his truck’s engine. He swallowed, hard, his earlier bravado fading.
I chanced another small step in the direction of the wash. Then another. I didn’t care who was driving the other car. I hoped it was the police. That would teach Seth Winter. The Tribal Police didn’t look too kindly upon trespassers, especially at night. Especially ones chasing girls for sport.
The toe of my tennis shoe finally reached the top of the wash. I twisted it into the dirt, bracing my stance. Then I turned south.
And I started to run.
But Seth saw me.
I heard his truck shift into Drive. Within moments, his headlights outran me. Over the engine’s roar, I could hear his laugh. It filled my ears and polluted the sky.
He’s crazy, I thought. Seth Winter is truly crazy.
But his laughter was quickly drowned out by the engine from the other car. Instead of one set of headlights chasing behind me, there were two. Still running along the wash, I squinted over my shoulder through a new dust cloud. The other car was right behind Seth, flashing its brights and blasting its horn. The sky grew thicker with dirt and swirling sand, making breathing difficult. It was like being inside the center of a dust storm.
Seth moved slightly to one side, coaxed by the front end of the other car. That’s when I realized that the other car wasn’t hunting me. It was after Seth.
And it wasn’t the Tribal Police. There weren’t any red lights or sirens, but the second car wedged Seth away from me, forcing his truck into a ditch.
Both cars finally thudded to an abrupt stop, the rear wheels of Seth’s truck wheezing in midair. The other car skidded alongside it.
Gasping, I stopped running and braced my hands against my knees, watching the cars through the settling dust. It was like watching a nightmare, the m
uted colors and sounds, the bright lights, the slow motion of the desert, the sound of my own breathing—all pushing against my temples. Chaos and confusion.
The second driver got out of his car. Without shutting his door, he stormed over to Seth’s pickup. He kicked the driver’s door with his boot, hard. “What the hell are you doing?” he screamed at Seth. “What is wrong with you?”
It was Ryan. But I was too numb to care.
“Berenger?” Seth’s voice sounded suddenly small, his laughter gone. “You ran me into a ditch? Get me out of here,” he yelled up at him. Ryan ignored him.
Instead, he turned to me as I cowered alongside the wash.
“Fred?” Ryan called out. He shielded his eyes in the corner of his elbow from the settling dust. “Fred? Are you all right?” He walked slowly at first, but then he started to jog when I didn’t answer.
“Fred?” Another voice. A softer one. “Fred? It’s me. Riley. Are you okay? I’m so sorry, Fred!” she said. “This is all my fault.”
I swallowed back the tears that burned my throat. I couldn’t speak, even if I wanted to.
All I wanted to do was go home.
I turned south and coaxed my legs to run again.
“Fred!” Ryan called behind me. “Wait!”
But I ran faster. Ryan couldn’t catch me. I knew every part of this desert. Ryan only knew this side of Pecos Road from the window of his Jeep.
I kept running until my breathing drowned out Ryan’s voice. Before long, the headlights and the voices grew so distant that it was as if they had never been chasing me at all.
Chapter 44
Ryan
I SQUINTED INTO THE DARKNESS UNTIL Fred’s footsteps disappeared. I called after her anyway, my hands cupped around my mouth. “Fred!”
No answer.
Then I dragged both hands through my hair, gripping the sides of my head, as I waited for my heartbeat to slow. When I turned back to Seth, my rage returned. I stormed toward his truck, breathing so hard that I sucked in dirt that still floated in the air.
