Give Me Some Truth

by Eric Gansworth

  “Um, no thanks.” Marie laughed. “Think we’re already a little too old for doing that anymore.” Maggi looked confused, as I’d kind of counted on.

  “I wanted to show you,” I said to Maggi, “the other part of being a nighttime Rez Kid.”

  “You still have that stupid hideout?” Marie asked, standing up on the stone railing to try peeking up at the school’s flat roof. I was glad I could surprise her. “The tree’s not even here anymore. How do you get up?”

  “The roof? Really?” Maggi asked, doubtful. “How’s your upper body strength?”

  “Car,” I cut in, hearing the rumble of a motor and going deeper into the shadows. Both stayed on the steps, Marie leaning on the wall, as a pickup drove past. “Coulda been seen.”

  “Only if they’re expecting to see you,” Maggi said, hopping up to join her sister. She jumped, slapping at the awning lip over the door, to see if real effort would make the difference. “Could you stirrup me? Think I felt something up there.”

  “Depends,” I replied. The view from where I stood was pleasant, but I’d waited long enough. “Or I could bear-hug your thighs and lift you. How much do you weigh?”

  “That is not a question you ask of a young lady, Mr. Mastick,” she said.

  “It is if she wants you to lift her up. I’d like to pass my next hernia physical, thank you.”

  “Look, you have a pretty good idea of what I weigh. You’ve been studying hard enough,” she said. Busted. “I can get a foot in the mortar, so you’ll mostly be supporting. Marie can maybe do the other foot, and lighten the load. Just do it. We don’t have a ton of time.” I followed her, though I’d never set a time limit. Maybe she had one?

  As soon as I was in place, she lifted herself. She was much lighter than I expected. “Hah!” she yelled. “Knew it.” I shushed her. As I’d anticipated, something fell lightly on me and she stepped out of my laced hands. I looked up in time to see her disappear onto the flat roof. A rope ladder dangled before me. Marie and I followed her up.

  “Pull it up behind you,” Maggi said as I swung my leg over. The rope ladder had been mounted carefully.

  “Yours, I’m assuming,” Marie said, almost disappointed.

  “Of course mine. Why else would I ask you here?” I said as she stepped onto the roof.

  “You asked my sister,” Marie said, wandering to a secured tarp. “Yours too?”

  “What d’ya think?” I said. She pulled a collapsible cane from her bag.

  “Wait!” I yelled as she went for the tarp, but she didn’t stop. She unsprung the cane and she stuck it in under my tarp, causing a series of loud snaps from inside.

  “Mouse traps,” she said. “Amateur at keeping your stuff safe.” She peeked in. “Oh, rat traps. Slightly impressed.”

  “Wait, damn it!” I said. When my dad started getting more violent with Derek, I’d made our old rooftop hideout a legit escape. It wouldn’t last to November, but it was good for now. Or it would be if these Bokoni girls didn’t barge in and ruin it.

  “Let’s see,” she said, pulling a flashlight from her bag. “Lawn chairs, sleeping bag in a zippered plastic bag. Not bad. Cooler.” She opened that, and inside was a little bag, which she opened. “Bottle opener, corkscrew? Wine and fine dining, are we?” She laughed and dug back in. “Toothbrush, toothpaste, Speed Stick. Listerine. Ten pack of Trojans? Ambitious.” She tossed them all back inside, stopped, unperforated two rubbers, and slid them into her shorts pocket.

  “I’m right here,” I said.

  “You pretended you didn’t know how to get up there so you could check me out. We can pretend just as easy that these things aren’t yours,” Maggi said, joining her sister. “Or I could if I didn’t know you were intending this little excursion all for me. Thought you wanted to talk.”

  A tiny stab of embarrassment pierced me now that they’d made fun of my Trojans, but seeing the little square outline in Marie’s pocket was intriguing. Maggi was cuter, but she was fifteen. Marie and I were both seventeen. Still, nothing’s going to happen, moron, I told myself.

  “Come here,” I said. “This is what I wanted to show you. A view of the Rez like you’ve never seen before.” I nodded out toward the way Dog Street stretched before us, porch lights occasionally dotting the tree line. “We used to think we could see the whole Rez from here. Really, you can barely see the Old Gym. The dike? Not even a hint on the horizon.” A mile away sat a giant water reservoir carved out of the Rez, built by the US government for hydroelectric power. “That’s land we’re never getting back no matter how much they call it ‘a lease.’ Invisible, like that thievery had never happened. The world you came home to is very, very small. Everyone’s gonna know your business no matter what.”

  “Okay, so,” Maggi stage-whispered, seeming monumentally unimpressed with what I’d shown her. “You’re saying I don’t have anything to hide.” She said it, looking at Marie. I was missing something here, but I wasn’t gonna find out what it was tonight. “Now, you come over here. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  She spread my sleeping bag on the roof, and they climbed down there, as if they’d planned this meeting instead of me. They put their arms behind their heads as pillows. I stepped up and Maggi patted the spot between them, so I grinned and sat. She gave me that face, you know the one: Are you for real?

  “Cool. Just Rez kids hanging out,” she said to Marie. “No worries this is going to turn into an after-school special about teen pregnancy?”

  “Well, it might have been that story if I hadn’t decided to come along,” Marie said, and then shrugged her head and smiled, a truce.

  Carson Mastick awkwardly dropped down between us, not at all the graceful rock star he wanted to be. His backpack tinkled with the distinct sound of full beverage bottles. Interesting.

  “Forgot these,” he said, removing Pepsis and a jacket. “Sorry,” he said to Marie. “I thought it was just going to be the two of us.”

  “We can share,” I said, taking one, twisting its cap and passing it to back to him. He took the other, twisted it, and passed it to Marie. Goofy but charming, just the same. We clinked.

  “To your return,” he said.

  “Least you weren’t trying to engage her in underage drinking,” Marie said, looking at the Pepsi. Nice. Reduced to a pronoun. She nodded. “I’ll toast to her not finding Party City.”

  “Oh, right,” I said. “That’s me. Party Girl.” I wasn’t sure which I should hate more, the way she was criticizing Carson (and by proximity, me) or the way she pretended she wasn’t heading out for an all-nighter with Mystery Man while we hung on a stupid institutional flat roof (which needed repairs. Pretty soon, the classrooms were going to leak as bad as our Shack when it rained, coffee cans everywhere to catch the drips).

  We were lying down, Carson in the middle. Our arms touched. He didn’t move away, but I didn’t lean in more. If he were more like this, he’d be okay. That Punching-The-Dashboard Nonsense was for white boys in Rebel Outsider movies.

  “Maybe we could come back in a few weeks and bring Lewis,” Marie said, sounding sad. “Catch those meteors he loves. The night skies out here are always something I missed.”

  “The city’s like ten minutes away. It’s the same friggin’ sky!” I said.

  “No, it’s not,” she said, not pushing. Translate: You are a fool, Younger Sister.

  “So listen,” Carson said, trying to keep an argument from forming. “Next Friday, there’s this party, and I’m working part of it.” I already knew about that. Lewis was not a secret keeper.

  “Like a waiter?” Marie said, laughing. “This sure ain’t a Rez party if there’s waiters.” She turned to face us and moved her leg closer to him, teasing him about his rubbers. The Taunt was one of her specialties. He was a guy of seventeen, so even a hint of sex as sad as rubbers in a girl’s shorts pocket was enough to rile him. He raised his knees to hide the front of his jeans.

  “Not a waiter,” he said, shifting all nonchalant, as i
f he hadn’t just done the lamest cover-up. “It’s at The Bug’s house. Starts at four. Just come. Not a date. I’m asking you both.” He looked at me to assure me I was included. “Good to catch up, between, um, my work. I was going to invite you anyway, when I asked you to meet me here.”

  “So what’s the job? Why all the mystery?” Marie asked. Carson had no idea she was the Queen of Evasions and could tell someone else trying to pull a fast one from a mile away.

  “That’s my concern. But this’d give you a chance to jump back in the water before the school year starts. You really want the school bus to be your Rez reentry place?”

  “Good point,” I said. It was going to be tough to join a new school. “But really, why all the secrecy if—what did you say? If everyone on the Rez is gonna know our business anyway?” I played along, even though I knew he was a hired musician. “Are you cooking for this party? Lewis said you’ve been taking home ec classes. Is that why you’re being weird?”

  “I signed up for home ec to speed up my lacrosse uniform repairs. Don’t even think about laughing! Puts gas money in my car.”

  “We think that’s cool that a guy knows how to sew and cook,” Marie said.

  “Absolutely,” I said, trying to give him an out. Lewis had told me Carson felt funny that his main job was sewing. He said guys mostly took the cooking home ec since the class made its own turkey dinner, so they could Pig Out. Sewing was supposedly for girls and the occasional drama club dork, wanting to learn how to make costumes.

  “Definitely cool with cooking. We knew a bunch of city deadbeats,” I added. “They come into your unit, see your mom’s not home, and immediately try to get into your cupboards.”

  “Magpie’s just mad ’cause it’s never her drawers,” Marie said, laughing like the girls out here did.

  “Friday’s the Fourth, isn’t it?” I still hadn’t quite gotten the delivery of that Rez phrase down. I’d have to listen closer to others. “We’re stuck with Vendor Table duty, but could probably come after.”

  “What’s your job anyway? Maybe we can help?” Marie asked.

  “Not unless you’re secretly a decent drummer,” Carson said. “Or you can talk Lewis into being more confident,” he added, looking at Marie. “Seems like you got his undivided attention.”

  “He and Lewis are playing guitar at that party,” I said to Marie. “Genius here thinks he’s going to pressure Lewis into being a better player,” I said.

  “That’s why we stood through those crappy bands tonight?” Marie asked, being fake annoyed. “To give Lewis more confidence? Stupid idea.”

  “Secrets are hard to keep out here,” I said, throwing Carson’s own lesson back at him, grinning. I hoped Marie knew I was also talking to her too. “They’ve been taking lessons from The Bug for a couple years. That party’s just Indians.”

  “Still a little scary—you know,” Carson added, attempting to sound impressive. Since I’d given away so much, there was no reason for him to be so mysterious. “Somebody’s gonna tease you if you ain’t good—but what’s one more jab around here going to do?”

  “Depends on the jab,” Marie said seriously. She was never going to let him forget he’d saddled her with that Stinkpot name, and I couldn’t blame her. “If we can swing it,” she said casually, before he could launch into a defense, “we might have a drummer for you.”

  “Marvin? You have a kit in that little house?” That was his question?

  “Water drum,” Marie said.

  “Like, for Socials? Just Traditional?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “What do you mean just Traditional?” I demanded. “Does it matter?” It took all I had not to whack him in the nuts at that moment. Even if going to Socials wasn’t your thing, if you were part of this world, you had to respect it was a big part. (I hadn’t even lived here in years, and I knew that.)

  “I guess not. But for real. Is it Marvin? I haven’t even seen this brother you two claim to have. I need a real drummer, not an imaginary one.”

  “He’s real,” Marie said, which I couldn’t even believe we needed to clarify. “But why do you assume it’s him?” Sharpness climbed in her voice. “If you say girls don’t drum, I’m going to punch you.”

  “Social Singers and Drummers are pretty much always guys.”

  “That’s not official,” I said, assertive. “Chauvinism, plain and simple. I’m back here, so I gotta deal with the rules of this place. But there’s nowhere it says women can’t drum.”

  “Well, I need a Rock drummer. I figured you’d know that, since you knew guitars were involved. I have to play rhythm and sing melody because Lewis can’t lead, but I need a good backbeat to do it well.”

  “I knew you were talking about a rock drummer,” Marie said. “And not that it matters, but I don’t even know if they’d let you in the door at Socials,” she added. Evil. No one was barred from a Social unless they’d been drinking. And beyond that, I had an idea she was wrong about him. I bet if his mom and dad dragged him to a Traditional event and the singers were short a man, Carson could step up, but he was the sort who’d insist he just wasn’t interested in it. “Anyway, we really do have a drummer in our family, but it ain’t Marvin,” my sister added.

  “Sorry, I’m not inviting your dad. I know he makes drums for your Vendor Table, but this is working toward Battle of the Bands? Remember?”

  “Relax. Damn! Do we have to spell it out? Maggi’s the drummer.”

  “You were serious?” he asked, turning directly to me. “Rock or Traditional?”

  “A player with a good beat is all that should concern you, desperado,” I said, grinning myself. I waited and he raised his eyebrows. Apparently he could wait too. “Fine! Traditional. Our dad taught me how to play his water drums a long time ago.”

  “No shit!” He sounded genuinely astounded.

  “Old Moccasin Dance, Stick Dance, Standing Quiver Dance,” I listed.

  “That’s a man’s dance.”

  “A man’s dance, not a man’s song. Those two things are different. Rabbit Dance too,” I added, for emphasis, a Ladies’ Choice Dance. “Drumming drew customers, so that became part of my Table duties. Made me sometimes regret picking up that first drum.” I paused and looked at the stars. “Really, our ma thinks she’s keeping me out of trouble by having me play.”

  “She wants to keep you out of trouble and moved you back here?” he asked, laughing, almost choking on his Pepsi. “It is the Rez.” He was intentionally twisting what I said, and you could tell he felt sort of bad saying that, but it didn’t stop him. In the few weeks we’d been back, we realized kids here had a ton more freedom than the white city kids I’d known. We could hang out, wander the Rez, do whatever. Marie said when you’re a littler kid, you think all the grown-ups are watching you, and probably to a degree that’s true. But according to her, once you hit high school, it was more like you had a couple hundred older brothers and sisters to party with, who wouldn’t tell your mom and dad as long as you didn’t get out of hand.

  “It’s my fault we’re back,” Marie said, interrupting my thoughts. “I mean, it’s because of me.”

  “How so?” Carson asked. Just then, three long weird car horn toots came from Torn Rock. The engine would sound strange to Carson, if he registered it, but I knew that rumble.

  “Damn,” Marie said, jumping to her feet. “Get up, if you want help putting your stuff back.” Carson looked at her with a question in his eyes, but he stood up as I did. Marie shook the sleeping bag and rolled it, sliding it perfectly under the tarp and neatly into its plastic.

  “Go on,” I said. “I got it.” I turned to Carson. “I’ll help reset the traps. We used to set them up in our apartment, after those city-boy knuckleheads prowled our cupboards.” Marie nodded, smiled, and ran to the roof’s edge, scrambling up the granite lip before Carson even knew what was happening.

  “Where are you going?” he called after her. “What’s your hurry?”

  “Haven’t you
ever jumped off a roof before?” she said, teetering. “If anyone asks, we were up here together all night.” She held up the ladder. “How you been keeping this hidden?”

  “What?” he said, totally confused by how quickly things had changed.

  “Relax,” she said. “It’ll do your reputation some good. Give Maggi a ride?” He nodded. “And nothing funny or I’ll knock your teeth in.” She squatted, grabbed the little wall, and heaved herself over the edge, disappearing below the granite horizon. By the time we ran to the edge, she was climbing into the weird car.

  It was too dark to see well, even the car’s color. I only knew that it was Mystery Man’s by the boxy shape and the farting exhaust. It was familiar in its weirdness. As soon as she was in, he hit the gas, and in a jet of dirty smoke, they headed west, off the reservation.

  “Never seen a car like that before,” Carson said, studying it as it disappeared. It definitely was no reservation car—already, I’d begun to know the cars of everyone who lived out here. Marie, herself, would admit this car was too weird if you wanted to be stealthy, even for Niagara Falls. People would notice, remember it. “Who was that?”

  “Marie and her Mystery Man,” I said. “Don’t bother. You’re not getting an answer.”

  “What did she mean about this being her fault? What was her fault?”

  “Our moving back here,” I said, working on the tarp. “Your rig’s all set. Nice up here. Thanks for asking me to meet you, but why did you? What’s this got to do with Lewis’s uncle?”

  “Here, sit down,” he said, patting the wall. A car drove by. We were out in plain sight, but of course, no one looked up here. The roof was like camouflage. “So you guys’ve been home a month and already she’s trying to leave again?”

  “Look, forget about trying to figure out my sister. She’s not going to be here long enough for your discoveries to matter.” I paused to smooth the irritation from my voice.

  “You can say things how you want. I know that feeling. There’s plenty of times my brother, Derek, drives me crazy. More than my sister, Sheila, and we never had to share a room.”