The goat had come down the hill. One old goat with white foamy fur and wet eyes. Unlike the goats who had come before, to give their fur to Coyote and Cherokee, this goat was quiet, so quiet that when he had gone, dragging the haunches in his mouth, Coyote and The Goat Guys were not sure if he had been there at all. Raphael started to stand, but Cherokee touched his wrist. He reached for her hand and they turned to see the goat being swallowed up by the hillside, a wave vanishing back into the ocean.
Cherokee knew what she had to do. Coyote was standing, facing her with a shovel in each hand. He held one out. Together, Cherokee and Coyote began to dig a hole in the dirt in the center of the circle. Dust clouds rose, glowing pink as the sun set, and the pink dust filled Cherokee’s eyes and mouth.
The hooves were much heavier than they looked, heavier, even, than Cherokee remembered them, and the bristles poked out, grazing her bare arms. The hooves smelled bad, ancient, bitter. She dropped them into their grave. Then she and Coyote filled the grave up with earth and patted the earth with their palms. The dust settled, the sun slipped away, darkness eased over everything.
Coyote built a fire on the earth where the hooves were buried. The flames were dancers on a stage, swooning with their own beauty.
Angel Juan was staring into these flames. His horns lay at the edge of the fire and Cherokee remembered her dream of flame horns springing from goat foreheads. She watched Angel Juan stand and pick up the horns. Then Coyote held out his arms and Angel Juan went to him, placing the horns in Coyote’s hands. Coyote set the horns down in the fire and embraced Angel Juan. Like a little boy who has not seen his father in many years. Angel Juan buried his head against Coyote’s chest. All the pride and strength in his slim shoulders seemed to fall away as Coyote held him. When he moved back to sit beside Witch Baby, his forehead was smooth, no longer strained with the weight or the memory of the horns.
Later, after Cherokee, Raphael, Witch Baby and Angel Juan had left, looking like children who have played all day in the sea and eaten sandy fruit in the sun and gone home sleepy and warm and safe; later, when the fire had gone out. Coyote took the horns from the log ashes and brushed them off. Then Coyote Dream Song carried the horns back inside.
When Cherokee and Raphael got back to the canyon house, they set up the tepee on the grass and crept inside it. They lay on their backs, not touching, looking at the leaf shadows flickering on the canvas, and trying to identify the flowers they smelled in the warm air.
“Honey suckle.”
“Orange blossom.”
“Rose.”
“The sea.”
“The sea! That doesn’t count!”
“I smell it like it’s growing in the yard.”
They giggled the way they used to when they were very young. Then they were quiet. Raphael sat up and took Cherokee’s feet in his hands.
“Do they still hurt?” he asked, stroking them tenderly. He moved his hands up over her whole body, as if he were painting her, bringing color into her white skin. As if he were playing her—his guitar. And all the hurt seemed to float out of her like music.
They woke in the morning curled together.
“Remember how when we were really little we used to have the same dreams?” Cherokee whispered.
“It was like going on trips together.”
“It stopped when we started making love.”
“I know.”
“But last night …”
“Orchards of hawks and apricots,” Raphael said, remembering.
“Sheer pink-and-gold cliffs.”
“The sky was wings.”
“The night beasts run beside us, not afraid. Dream-horses carry us …”
“To the sea,” they said together as they heard a car pull into the driveway and their parents’ voices calling their names.
At the end of the summer. The Goat Guys set up their instruments on the redwood stage their families had helped them build behind the canyon house. Thick sticks of incense burned and paper lanterns shone in the trees like huge white cocoons full of electric butterflies. A picnic of salsa, home-baked bread still steaming in its crust, hibiscus lemonade and cake decorated with fresh flowers was spread on the lawn. Summer had ripened to its fullest—a fruit ready to drop, leaving the autumn tree glowing faint amber with its memory as the band played on the stage for their families and friends.
Cherokee looked at the rest of The Coat Guys playing their instruments beside her. Even dressed in jeans and T-shirts, Raphael and Angel Juan could pout and gallop and butt the air. Witch Baby seemed to hover, gossamer, above her seat. The music moved like a running creature, like a creature of flight, and Cherokee followed it with her mind. She was a pale, thin girl without any outer layers of fur or bone or feathers to protect or carry her. But she could dance and sing, there, on the stage. She could send her rhythms into the canyon.
About the Author
FRANCESCA LIA BLOCK is the author of five Weetzie Bat books: WEETZIE BAT, an ALA Best Book for Young Adults and an ALA Recommended Book for Reluctant Young Adult Readers; WITCH BABY, a School Library Journal Best Book and an ALA Recommended Book for Reluctant Young Adult Readers; CHEROKEE BAT AND THE GOAT GUYS, a New York Times Book Review Notable Book, an ALA Best Book for Young Adults, and an ALA Recommended Book for Reluctant Young Adult Readers; MISSING ANGEL JUAN, an ALA Best Book for Young Adults, an ALA Recommended Book for Reluctant Young Adult Readers, and a School Library Journal Best Book; and most recently, BABY BE-BOP. She is also the author of THE HANGED MAN, an ALA Recommended Book for Reluctant Young Adult Readers and a School Library Journal Best Book; and GIRL GODDESS #9: Nine Stories.
Ms. Block lives in Los Angeles, California.
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Praise for CHEROKEE BAT AND THE GOAT GUYS
“Block continues to illuminate serious contemporary themes with fresh, tellingly allusive imagery and a wonderfully lyrical and original style. Not to be missed.”
—The Kirkus Reviews
“The writing is lyrical, and the lists are as wild and witty as ever in Block’s third punk fairy tale. … What will hold readers is the rich poetry of the setting, which celebrates the colors of a smoggy sunset as well as neon, lovers, frozen yogurt, and the smell of honeysuckle.”
—ALA Booklist
Praise for WEETZIE BAT
“This postmodern fairy tale was sent to me by Mark Robinson of the band Unrest because he thought it was incredibly sassy, Well, he’s right … the campy names and unlikely plot twists are completely believable because Francesca Lia Block so deftly uses them to communicate how a misfit teenager really feels. And the spare writing style is very cool. The best part is that there are two sequels, WITCH BABY and CHEROKEE BAT AND THE GOAT GUYS, which I am so psyched to read.”
—Sassy
Also by Francesca Lia Block
Weetzie Bat
Witch Baby
Missing Angel Juan
Baby Be-Bop
The Hanged Man
Girl Goddess #9
Copyright
Cherokee Bat and the Goal Guys
Copyright © 1992 by Francesca Lia Block
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address HarperCollins Children’s Books, a division of HarperCollins Publishers, 10 East 53rd Street,
New York, NY 10022.
EPub Edition © JULY 2010 ISBN: 978-0-062-03594-3
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Block, Francesca Lia.
Cherokee Bat and the Goat Guys / Francesca Lia Block
p. cm.
“A Charlotte Zolotow book.”
Summary: With their parents away, four young people form a rock band that becomes wildly popular, carrying them into a “freer” life than they can cope with.
ISBN 0-06-020269-6 — ISBN 0-06-020270-X (lib. bdg.)
ISBN 0-06-447095-4 (pbk.)
[1. Rock music—Fiction. 2. Bands (Music)—Fiction.] 1. Title. PZ7.B61945Ch 1992 91-30706
[Fic]—dc20 CIP
AC
First Harper Trophy edition, 1993
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