Played

by Liz Fichera

  “Oh, good,” Riley said, standing beside me on the curb. She looked out across the parking lot just as a silver Jeep—Ryan’s Jeep—sped down the center aisle and straight toward us.

  “Wait. Your brother?”

  “Yeah. Now that golf season is over, he and Fred usually hang. Today they’re going to her house to chill instead of ours. Lucky, right?”

  “Yeah.” I exhaled. “Lucky.”

  “I know.” Her smile widened and I had to wonder if she were really truly listening to me. Every part of me wanted nothing to do with Ryan and Fred, especially not in Ryan’s Jeep. Was Riley really that clueless? “I was so glad when Ryan offered,” she added.

  “He offered?” My voice got louder.

  “Uh-huh,” she said, still utterly and completely clueless.

  I moaned. “Riley. I really don’t want to—”

  “Chill, Sam,” she said, interrupting me. “And once we get in the car, let me do the talking.”

  Like she’d given me a choice.

  When I saw Fred through the windshield, seated in the passenger seat of Ryan’s shiny ride, my vocal cords twisted into a knot, along with everything else in my body. Not talking would be the least of my problems. Breathing would be harder.

  23

  Riley

  Fred was the first to speak. “Hey, Ri. Hi, Sam.” She sounded so casual. Too casual.

  I had hoped that Fred would at least be a little surprised. As an Unofficially Official Observer of students at Lone Butte High School, I was pretty good at picking up on the nuances of people’s behavior. And it wasn’t as if I hitched a ride to Sam’s all the time. I didn’t know where he lived— Well, I knew he lived on the reservation but, beyond that, he might as well have lived on Mars. So I was hoping for a little surprise—even a tinge of jealousy would have been nice as I semisnuggled closer to Sam in the backseat, which, I had to admit, felt nice and familiar. It was tempting to reach for his hand. I didn’t have to pretend to like sitting close to Sam. After Saturday night, I’d kind of grown fond of it.

  Fred’s hair cascaded down her right shoulder. As usual, she looked effortlessly beautiful and I was the one who was a little jealous.

  Ryan waited till our seat belts were fastened before he pulled away from the curb.

  “Hey,” I said, breathlessly, nodding at him in the rearview. “Gracias for the ride.”

  “You’re going to Sam’s?” Ryan replied in the rearview. He said it like he didn’t believe me. Like he had to see it with his own eyes. I’d had to tell him three times during lunch in the cafeteria that I needed a ride. I also hated that he’d spoken just now as if Sam wasn’t seated right beside me.

  Sam stared out the window, saying nothing.

  “Sam’s gonna tutor me in chem.” Chemistry also happened to be my least favorite subject so it wasn’t as if it was a total lie. Just a little bitty one. I inched a little closer to Sam and mind-melded, Look interested! If I could have somehow inconspicuously lifted his arm and draped it across my shoulders, I would have.

  Sam grunted an answer and my lips pressed together.

  “Whatever,” Ryan said.

  “Well, you can’t get any better than Sam,” Fred chimed in.

  “I know,” I said. “Stranded together Saturday night, we had a lot to talk about,” I added rather vaguely.

  Fred turned in her seat. “Really?”

  “Really,” I said, matching her innocent tone.

  “Well, if you had to be stranded, I’m sure glad it was with Sam, Riley,” Fred said, turning forward in her seat. “You can’t get much better than him,” she said. Again. It wasn’t my imagination that Fred beamed at Sam.

  I squinted at her, trying to divine her obvious double-meaning as Sam exhaled. Clearly Fred had feelings for Sam, probably more than she realized. But Sam continued to glare out the backseat window as if the I-10 Freeway alongside the reservation was the most fascinating piece of real estate in the whole world.

  Ryan straightened in his seat. “Gee, thanks.”

  Fred reached for Ryan’s right hand, resting on the console between them. Her lips twisted and then she chuckled. “Come on, you know what I mean.”

  “No, sorry. I don’t.” Ryan puffed out his chest a little bit. Ryan and Fred were fighting? Maybe they quibbled like this more than I realized. It suddenly occurred to me that getting Sam and Fred together was probably going to be a snap and I couldn’t help but get all warm and glowy inside. By the time I was done, they would all probably be thanking me for getting involved!

  Fred turned in her seat toward Sam and then said, “Sam camps out all the time. Don’t you, Sam?”

  Sam nodded without really acknowledging anything.

  “See?” Fred said, turning to Ryan. “Sam’s the kind of guy you want around if you get stranded in the wilderness.”

  “They were two miles from a campsite. I hardly call that wilderness.”

  Sam stiffened beside me.

  “Well, it is if you’re stranded on the side of a mountain,” Fred retorted, both of them oblivious to Sam and me in the backseat. It was like watching Ping-Pong.

  “Well, okay,” Ryan said, but I don’t think he was convinced. “Hey, Sam,” he said, “I guess I should formally thank you for saving my little sister. I haven’t done that yet. So, yeah. Thanks.”

  “Try and be a little more heartfelt,” I said.

  “I am being heartfelt!”

  Sam grunted again, and I made a mental note that we needed to work on the grunting. Sentences with more than one syllable would be required if we wanted any chance of him winning Fred’s heart. And, please, there was such a thing as too much male brooding. Sam seemed ready to kick his feet through the back window. Didn’t Fred see that? Was I the only one picking up on his jealous behavior?

  “But could you have at least kept her on the rim more than a day, though?” A tease lifted Ryan’s lips, the kind of teasing that I had become used to during the past almost sixteen years. “It was actually quiet around the house on Saturday.”

  “Ha. Ha,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Sam was a real hero. I would have died on that mountain without him. Died! And everybody was talking about how brave he was today, too. Everybody.” That shut up my big-mouthed brother.

  And that was the truth. People had asked me about Saturday night in every class, during every break, during lunch. Some of the people had never spoken to me before; some I didn’t even know. Mostly they’d asked about Sam, especially the girls. And I’d told everybody the same thing: Sam Tracy came back for me. He clawed his way down a treacherous mountain just to reach me. Sam Tracy saved my life. Drew practically swooned over Sam before English class when I’d given her the Cliff’s Notes version of Saturday night, announcing that Sam Tracy was officially “hot,” although I think she was equally excited to learn that my brother would soon be back on the market.

  Even so, it was critical to move quickly. At Lone Butte High School, you could be hot one day and yesterday’s news the next—unless, of course, you were lucky enough to be someone like Jenna Gibbons.

  I slumped back against my seat and smiled smugly to myself, forgetting my brother’s annoying comment as I stared out the window and we drove farther away from the outskirts of Phoenix and into the desert.

  This was already starting off better than I had planned. Pushing my brother’s hot buttons was easier than I thought. Pushing Fred’s would be harder. But that was one thing I’d learned a long time ago as Ryan Berenger’s sister: everybody had them.

  24

  Sam

  Get. Me. Out. Of. This. Car.

  That mantra looped through my head for the entire ride back to the Rez. On the inside, I was seething so hard that my ribs ached. I was furious at Riley. I hated her brother. I was angry at Fred for bringing the Berengers into our lives. Most of all, I was pissed at myself for being roped into Ryan’s car. I would have preferred to walk home in a monsoon, in thunder and lightning, through a raging inferno, t
han sit in the backseat of Ryan Berenger’s Jeep like a lapdog. I had to stop being Riley’s science project or charity project or whatever she thought I was, and I planned to get that settled as soon as we reached my house. It was easier to talk to Riley and be real when we were alone.

  I opened the car door as soon as Ryan pulled to a stop on the dirt road that ended in front of our house. It was still another twenty steps across patchy grass to our front door. Grandmother was sitting in her favorite metal straight-back chair at the foot of the front stairs, her latest basket-weaving project between her legs. She looked up from her work, but her bony fingers never stopped moving.

  “I’ll call your cell when I need a ride back,” Riley said to Ryan, opening the door and limping toward me as if Ryan dropped her off at my house all the time.

  Ryan tooted the horn and then backed up his Jeep until he could turn around and proceed down the road to Fred’s house.

  “Hi, Grandmother Tracy,” Fred yelled from the car window as the car backed up.

  Grandmother nodded but said nothing, her fingers barely pausing over the long strips of willow shoots and horsehair that never seemed to leave her hands. Grandmother was half Pima and our house was filled with baskets of all sizes, a craft that she’d learned from her mother and grandmother. Now I supposed I would have to explain Pima artistry to Riley. I moaned to myself again, this time out loud.

  Riley shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have to explain. I shouldn’t have to explain anything.

  “Hi, Grandmother,” I mumbled as I approached the steps. Her tiny body sat hunched over to the right of the door.

  Grandmother nodded. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it, but I’d seen Grandmother’s expression change exactly three times in my entire life. Nothing fazed her, even a white girl standing at the foot of our front stairs.

  Riley caught up surprisingly fast for someone with an injured leg. I didn’t slow down for her for a second, not like at school. At the moment, I wanted to explode into a thousand pieces and shake her shadow, but she followed me like a rain cloud.

  Grandmother squinted at me behind her thick reading glasses. She waited for introductions. Great.

  “This is Riley. We’re going to study,” I added as an afterthought, as if I invited girls over to our house all the time after school—which I did not. This was a first.

  “Hello.” Riley’s voice was bright but cautious. I turned to look down at her, standing at the foot of the stairs, as I reached for the door. Ryan’s Jeep was already halfway down the road, brown clouds of dust spiraling into the sky behind his tires. I breathed a little easier, but not much. I had to tell Riley to stay out of my business. Then I had to get rid of her. Since we lived ten miles from anywhere, I was stuck with her for the time being.

  “Can I come in?” Riley said in a small voice. She looked from me to Grandmother, who had returned to her weaving.

  “Help yourself,” I said, opening the screen door and letting it snap behind me.

  “Those are really pretty baskets,” I heard Riley say as she half walked, half limped her way up the wooden stairs. I tossed my backpack onto the family room couch and stormed into the kitchen. I could still hear her talking to Grandmother. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one up close. They’re so delicate,” she added as she opened the squeaky screen door. “Sam?” She stepped into the dark family room as I pretended to look for something to eat in the kitchen cabinet.

  “Yeah?” I said in the least friendly tone I could muster.

  Riley sighed as she lifted the strap from her bag off her chest. “Don’t be mad.” She placed it on the couch next to mine.

  “Mad? Who’s mad?” I wasn’t trying to be funny.

  Riley stepped closer.

  “You could have warned me that your brother was our ride,” I said.

  “I would have if you had a cell phone. I could have texted you.”

  I chuckled. “Well, sorry I couldn’t be more of assistance.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop being so…angry. Are you this angry at everyone?”

  I laughed loud enough to fill all the empty space in the room. It was a mean, maniacal laugh but I couldn’t help it. Good thing no one was home except Grandmother. “Just at people who break their promises.” And guys like Ryan Berenger, who always got the girl.

  “I’m not breaking my promise. I said I wouldn’t tell anyone how you feel about Fred, and I won’t. I swear I won’t.”

  My nostrils flared.

  “We’re wasting time and I’m only trying to help you.”

  “I don’t want your help. You’re wasting time.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are, too.”

  Her arms moved to her hips. “Do you have any idea what everyone was saying about you today?”

  “I don’t care.”

  She snorted. “Well, you should.”

  “Why?”

  “‘Cause you’re officially A-list hot.”

  “Stop it, Riley.”

  “I’m totally serious. Every girl at school was asking me about you. They want you. And if they weren’t asking, they were thinking.”

  I scoffed. “Why?”

  “You’re a hero, Sam! That’s why. Every girl loves a hero. Don’t you see?” Her eyes bulged.

  “Yeah, I see that you’re going to be a pain in my ass.”

  She shook her head. “This is going to be easy. I’ll have Fred eating out of the palm of your hand within a week. But we’ve got to work fast.”

  “Why?” I said again.

  “Because fame is fleeting. Just like love.”

  “You read too many romance novels.”

  “Do not. I prefer mysteries.”

  “This still seems like a huge waste of time. Besides, Fred is your friend, too. Why would you want to hurt her?”

  “Hurt her?” Riley’s hands moved to her hips. “Did you just see what happened in the car? Were you even listening? Jeez, Sam! Fred and Ryan were arguing. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time, either. It’s only a matter of time. I’m only helping them to see the inevitable. You’ve got to trust me.”

  I sputtered, still irritated. Riley was dreaming. Riley was delusional. But she was nothing if not persistent. And what if she were right about Fred and Ryan? Dammit. I was trapped inside my own house.

  She took a step closer, her eyes laser-locked on mine. “Now stop acting like a big baby and take me to your bedroom.”

  I stopped breathing. The only sound came from the tick-tock of the kitchen clock. I didn’t need a mirror to know that my eyeballs were almost popping out of my head and threatening to drop to the floor.

  “And take off your shirt,” she added with a sniff. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked.”

  25

  Riley

  Sam stood there, a cereal box clutched in his left hand, completely frozen and silent. And blushing. The blushing part was sweet. You never expect a big tough guy to blush.

  When he saw that I was serious, he finally lowered his thick arms and said, “Okay. Follow me. But there’s not much to see.”

  I followed Sam down a narrow hallway covered in brown paneling. It was weird to see Sam in his own house. I mean, it wasn’t as though I didn’t know that he lived in a house with a family and everything. It was just that seeing him here—in a place so simple and normal with family photos and living room furniture and knickknacks and a grandmother sitting outside—was like I was seeing this new side of him, even different from the gentle Sam I’d gotten to know on Saturday night and definitely different from the mysterious and brooding Sam at school. I was beginning to piece together the real Sam Tracy.

  I tried to sneak peeks at the photos hung on the wall but the hallway was too dark and Sam was acting crazy weird as it was. I couldn’t get sidetracked until I at least had a good peek at his closet. Then I’d let him freak out—which I fully expected.

  We passed a bedroom that I assumed
belonged to a girl, given the cute jean skirt and skinny jeans hanging over the open door. “You have a sister?”

  “Yeah. Cecilia.”

  “Older or younger?”

  “Older.”

  “You get along?”

  “Usually.” I wondered if Sam found his older sister as irritating as I found Ryan.

  “What does she do?”

  “She works part-time and goes to college part-time.”

  “What’s she studying to be?”

  “A librarian.”

  “Cool.” I liked her already.

  We entered Sam’s bedroom at the end of the hallway. His room had a single bed draped with one of those old-fashioned quilts you see in antique stores, a five-drawer dresser and a nightstand with a brass globed lamp and three hardback books stacked so that all the spines were even. A small window over the bed provided muted afternoon light. It was tidy and looked nothing like my brother’s bedroom, where piles of clothes littered the floor like land mines. Sam Tracy continued to surprise me. Instead of clothes, books were stacked in every corner of the room. There was a single shelf lined with small trophies, the inscriptions too small to read. A kachina with a crown of feathers sat on his dresser. I’d never seen a kachina outside of a glass case at a store or museum.

  Sam turned on the lamp and a soft golden glow filled the room. He sat on the edge of his tightly made bed, his arms outstretched. “Well. Here we are. Satisfied? Now what?”

  I limped to his closet, ignoring the throbbing in my knee. I had done way too much walking today, but it was not the time to complain. I’d wait until tonight when my mother would insist on feeding me another Tylenol, which I would swallow without argument. “Now I look through your closet.”

  “Why?”

  I spun around. “We’ve got to do something about your look.”

  “I don’t have a look.”

  “Exactly.”

  Sam exhaled.

  “Stop it with the heavy sighs. You sound like a grouchy old man.”

  “Stop telling me what to do.”

  “Once I’m done, you’ll be begging me to tell you what to do.”

  “Doubtful.”

  I ignored his eyes, which I was certain had begun to drill red-hot holes into the back of my neck.