Played

by Liz Fichera

  “Darn right.”

  “Um, Pink Girl, apparently you missed the part when I said I wasn’t crazy about your plan. I’ve said it at least six times. Yet you keep making—” he pointed at my messenger bag “—lists.”

  My gaze swept over him—the new-and-improved him. His clothes looked better, more styled. His hair looked nicer. Hotter. He was oozing new confidence. No one could convince me that these changes weren’t a good thing. It felt good to be part of something big, something that could be special. “Then why did you agree to hang with me today? Something must be working.”

  He paused as if he had to think really hard about it. “’Cause saying yes to you is a hell of a lot easier than saying no.”

  Okay, that stung a little. I’d have to analyze that statement later.

  Sam started walking again. Looking a little sheepish, his hands stuffed in his front pockets, he said, “So what do they do at your house all the time? You know, Fred and Ryan.”

  I took a deep breath and then followed after him. “Lots of stuff. Swimming. Watching movies. But most of the time they hang in Ryan’s bedroom.”

  Sam stopped at that little revelation, at least long enough for me to catch up.

  “So why am I here today again?” I challenged him. I wanted to hear him tell me that he was going to cooperate. I wanted to see that fight in his eyes. I wanted to know that he would at least try to win Fred’s heart. We didn’t have much time!

  “Yesterday I promised you a ride on Papago. I never break my promises.”

  Ouch. That hurt. Sam thought he was being clever, playing to my conscience. Trying to make me feel guilty, I’d bet. Well, I never broke my promises, either. I just believed in him. I only wished he’d start to trust me.

  30

  Sam

  Riley had a way of getting me to do things I really didn’t want to do, and a part of me admired her for that. No one else had ever succeeded at that, not my buddies, not my parents. Not even Fred, and I’d have crossed the desert barefoot for her, if she’d asked. I was stubborn about change, but when it came to Fred, I was willing to dip my toe in dark waters.

  “Do you really need help with chem?” I asked Riley when we reached the road that led to my house. Chemistry tutoring was the reason Riley had given Fred about why she was coming over. Fred had mentioned it to me casually during study hall, but there was nothing casual about it. Riley might be right about Fred’s eyebrow. I’d seen it move today, too. Dammit. My life would have been easier if I hadn’t.

  “I always need help with chem, Sam. It’s my least favorite subject. In fact, I detest it.”

  “Why do you take it?”

  “My parents make me.”

  “Why?”

  “For some bizarre reason they think I should go into a medical field, even though I hate the sight of blood.”

  “There’s lots of other things you could do with chemistry besides medicine.”

  She huffed. “Okay, now you sound like my mother.”

  “But it’s true. There’s engineering, pharmacy, research—lots of cool things.”

  “What about art?”

  “Art?”

  I thought about it but said nothing. She had me there.

  “See? My thoughts exactly,” she said. “What do you want to do?”

  “I’ll major in math or science, maybe even both.”

  “Do you want to go away?”

  “Yeah. But I’ll come back. I want to come back and help somehow. Teach, maybe. Invent something. Make a discovery that could help someone in our community. I don’t know, exactly. Make things better here. Do something that matters.”

  “Why?”

  “If I don’t, who will? I mean, those of us that can, should. Not everyone who leaves the Rez comes back. My mom did. She could have gotten a good job in Phoenix or any number of other places, but she didn’t. She came back when she didn’t have to. I’m pretty proud of her for that. I’m going to come back, too.”

  “Would you live here?” Riley looked across the barren desert. It was probably the only time she’d heard silence in her entire life.

  “Maybe not here. But my heart will always be here.” I felt my cheeks darken a little as I shared that morsel. I mean, why the hell was I telling Riley Berenger all this? She wouldn’t understand, because she didn’t need to. She probably didn’t see the beauty that I saw when she looked across the Rez. She wasn’t part of its heartbeat. Her world was different from mine, and I wasn’t about to go all cliché and try to explain having one leg on the Rez and the other in the white man’s world. She wouldn’t understand, and most people who don’t usually don’t waste time trying to understand those of us that do. I didn’t exactly like it, but I’d come to terms with what was long ago. If you didn’t, it only drove you bat-shit crazy.

  She placed her hand on my forearm, shocking the hell out of me. “Thanks for telling me, Sam. You know, I envy you.”

  I pulled back. “You envy me?”

  “Yeah. You’re so sure about everything. The big stuff. The important stuff. I think that’s cool.”

  “You’re not?”

  “My focus is on you and Fred, and maybe when I’m getting my car. You’re focusing on changing the world. I’d say we’re different.”

  That surprised me. I searched her face to see if she was joking, to see if there was the slightest chance she was mocking me. She wasn’t. Then she said in a softer voice, “What about Fred?”

  “What about her?” Wait. What was the question?

  “Does she feel the same way you do about, you know, coming back after college and making a difference?”

  “She used to feel the same way,” I said.

  “Not anymore?”

  “I’m not sure. We don’t talk like we used to, thanks to your brother.”

  The crazy glint returned to Riley’s eyes. The one that I’d become used to whenever our conversations returned to her misdirected, diabolical plan. Her hand dropped from my arm. “All the more reason to get you two back together—”

  I put up a palm, stopping her. “Riley… Fred and I were never officially together. Only in my head.”

  “Sa-a-am…” She stretched out my name, mimicking my tone. “Just trust me. I know what I’m doing. I mean, come on, it’s already working!”

  I let loose a long sigh.

  “What did I tell you about the heavy sighing?”

  I dropped Riley’s bag and my backpack onto a chair beneath a paloverde tree next to our house. “When’s your brother picking you up?”

  She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and looked at it. “We have an hour and a half.”

  “Ride, first?” I was anxious to change topics.

  Riley’s face lit up. “Definitely.”

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like Riley’s smile, maybe even liked to be the one who could make her smile. Her smile was sweet and crazy and maybe even a little sexy all at the same time, kind of like a firecracker. I usually didn’t care for perfect white teeth, but on Riley, perfection just worked. Quickly, I looked across the yard at the front door. “I’ll grab a couple of Cokes and then saddle up Papago.”

  “I’ll go say hello to your grandmother.”

  After I got Papago saddled, I led her outside the barn and looked for Riley.

  She was leaning back on her knees at Grandmother’s feet as Grandmother wove her latest creation in her favorite chair in the afternoon shade alongside the house. Amazingly, Grandmother’s mouth was moving. Riley’s mouth was moving even faster, which wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was Grandmother talking at all. She would never exactly earn any medals as a conversationalist. Sometimes she’d go entire days without saying a single word. Maybe Riley could work miracles.

  “Hey, let’s go!” I called to her. “Papago’s getting anxious.”

  Riley stood, touched Grandmother’s hand and trotted across the yard, still limping a little on that right leg.

  “What were you two talkin
g about?” I said.

  “I was asking her about the materials she was using. Then I asked her if she’d mind if I sketched one of her baskets sometime.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She said yes.”

  “Seriously?” Papago let lose a whinny. Some of Grandmother’s geometric designs dated back generations. She was usually pretty protective of them.

  “Then I told her how awesome you were at school,” Riley added.

  “What’d she say to that?”

  “She said I was welcome back here anytime.”

  I shook my head. “Riley Berenger. Charming her way across the Rez.”

  Riley pressed a hand to the base of her neck. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

  I chuckled. Then I stood by the saddle. I bent over and motioned for Riley to step into my curled fingers. “Come on. Hop on.”

  For the next hour, Riley didn’t stop talking as she rode Papago over the wide-open desert that surrounded our house. I walked alongside, holding the reins, as we wove between sagebrush and up and down dry river washes. Riley rattled off at least a dozen ways she wanted to get Fred and me together, some during school, some right here on the Rez. Then we spent thirty minutes playing chess, and she still kept talking. And she won after only six moves. In my defense, it was impossible to concentrate. By the time Ryan pulled into our yard with his Jeep, my head hurt.

  There was no way this could work. Could it?

  *

  Thursday night after dinner, I walked the two miles from my parents’ house to the Odays’ trailer. I needed to see Fred’s brother, Trevor, and I really hoped—no, I begged and prayed to the Creator, my ancestors and all of the animal spirits and anyone else listening—that Fred was off somewhere with Ryan, as much as that would pain Riley.

  Riley had been doing everything she could all week to make sure that Fred’s path crossed with mine. On Tuesday, she’d left us both notes on our lockers asking us to meet in the cafeteria, and then made a cheesy excuse about leaving early for a meeting with Mr. Romero. On Wednesday, she’d purposely not given Fred a message from Ryan saying he had to leave school early and couldn’t take her home but pressed Ryan’s note into my palm instead. When I’d seen Fred waiting in the parking lot for Ryan, I waited with her until it was painfully obvious he wouldn’t show and suggested we take the bus home.

  It was the first time since Fred had begun dating Ryan that Fred and I had to take the bus home together. It was an hour ride, but it was better than hitchhiking. I’d spent half the ride back to the Rez pretending to read my world history notes for Friday’s exam and trying to forget that Fred’s arm and leg were within an inch of mine.

  The last time I’d been at Fred’s house, I’d kissed her on her doorstep. I thought I saw stars when our lips touched. Now, kissing Fred seemed like a lifetime ago. Unfortunately she hadn’t kissed me back, not like she meant it, not like the kind of kiss that could lead to more, and that probably explained why my stomach tightened the closer I walked to her trailer. Nothing like reliving rejection, up close and personal.

  When I reached the Odays’ on Thursday night, two black Labs greeted me at the end of the dirt road that wound its way between the sagebrush to the trailer. Their wet snouts nuzzled both of my palms as they escorted me the rest of the way.

  Like all of the homes and trailers on the Rez, the Odays’ place was surrounded by acres of sage, saguaros and brown dirt. The closest neighbor was a mile away. A paloverde tree towered over the front of the trailer, brushing its leafy branches against the metal roof every time the wind blew, and blocking what remained of the sun. In the carport next to the trailer, two long skinny legs stuck out from underneath the front of Mr. Oday’s van.

  I smiled. Trevor. He usually worked nights at the Rez gas station alongside the freeway, but tonight he was home. I figured it to be a sign. I didn’t ask about Fred, even if Trevor already guessed the question lurked in the back of my mind like a memory I couldn’t erase.

  “Hey!” I called out, my voice echoing across the front yard.

  Trevor slid out from underneath the van on a piece of dusty cardboard. “Dude!” He stood to greet me. “’Sup?” Before he shook my hand, he wiped his own on the front of his jeans, not that it mattered. Trevor’s hands and fingernails were permanently stained from oil and grease. He tinkered with everyone’s trucks and cars when he wasn’t working on his own.

  “Need to talk to you,” I said.

  “Is our phone disconnected again?” Trevor tossed his braid behind his shoulder. If he noticed my shorter hair, he didn’t say.

  “Works fine,” I said. “Just needed to talk in person.”

  “You mean, not in front of your parents.”

  I nodded. Bingo. I wasn’t sure my mom would be too pleased with what I wanted to ask him.

  “Your old man’s still at the casino, right?”

  “Where else?” Most of our parents worked at the casino in some capacity.

  Trevor motioned to two plastic white chairs underneath the paloverde tree. “Thirsty?”

  “Yeah.” I reached for my throat like I was one step away from dying. “Just crossed the freaking desert to get here, didn’t I?” I ran my fingers through my hair, lifting it off my hot scalp.

  Trevor laughed. “Back in a minute,” he said as I plopped down in one of the chairs, the two Labs sitting on either side of me.

  Alone beneath the tree, I fidgeted in my too-small chair, even though I had been to the Odays’ a million times in my life. It was hard not to wonder if Fred was inside. I sighed, loud enough for one of the Labs to raise his snout and look up at me with curious eyes. “Yeah, I know. I need to get a life,” I said.

  Trevor returned with two Cokes. As he trotted down the stoop that led to the front door, he tossed me a can.

  I caught it and cracked open the tab. “Thanks,” I said, after a generous sip. “I needed that.” The can tingled inside my fingers.

  “So what brings you way out here?”

  “I need a favor.”

  Trevor leaned closer. “Lay it on me, brother.”

  “I need to buy a car.” I knew Riley would be pleased, maybe even think I was doing it because of her, but this had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. I needed my own ride. Bad.

  Trevor cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said slowly. His eyes began to blink rapidly, considering it. “How much you willing to spend?”

  “I got a couple hundred, saved. Maybe three…” I let my voice trail off as I watched Trevor wince.

  “That won’t buy much.”

  “Yeah, but I figured if anyone knew who was selling, or if there was anyone on the Rez with a good deal, you’d know.”

  “A good running car for three Benjamins? That wouldn’t last too long.”

  “Yeah, but you’d tell me, right? You could hook me up?”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

  I slumped back against the chair. That didn’t sound promising. I took another long sip from my can. From inside the trailer, I heard the clinking of dishes. The yellow curtain covering the kitchen window fluttered. My foot started to twitch.

  Trevor’s voice lowered. “Relax, bro. She ain’t home.”

  I swallowed. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. I knew that Trevor wasn’t crazy about Ryan Berenger, either, but it was hard to hate the guy, especially after what he’d done for Mr. Oday when he’d had his heart attack. If it hadn’t been for Ryan, Mr. Oday might have died— I shuddered at the thought. Mr. Oday was good people. He was like a second father to me. He talked to me more than my own dad did.

  Trevor took another long pull from his can, studying me. “Tell you what. I may have something you’d be interested in….”

  I leaned forward, almost dropping my can, as the condensation dripped through my fingers. “What? Tell me. I’m game for anything.”

  Trevor’s head tilted. “Anything?”

  “Yeah. Anything.”

  T
revor stood, wriggled his eyebrows at me and then jogged toward the carport.

  I followed after him, along with the two dogs.

  He walked to the rear of the carport, past the Odays’ mostly rusted van, back where the rays from the setting sun didn’t reach. Trevor pulled the cord on a lightbulb above us. It swung like a pendulum, casting a muted glow over a blue sheet covering a bulky object in front of the van.

  Trevor yanked off the sheet. “How about this?”

  My eyes about popped out of my head. I almost began to hyperventilate. Speaking became difficult. “Your motorcycle?” I finally croaked out the words. I loved this bike. Trevor had even let me ride it a few times around the Rez in the past. “But…uh…” I stammered. “I don’t have my motorcycle license. Yet. And what’ll you drive?”

  “I got another bike. Don’t fret. This is my backup.” Trevor was always tinkering with something—the old red Cadillac next to the carport, motorcycles, even bicycles.

  I approached the motorcycle, my hands extended but touching nothing. It was like approaching something priceless and unattainable. Sure it was dusty and the wheels were caked with dirt. But the black leather seat stretched the length of the bike and it could haul ass.

  “A 1995 Honda Shadow. The leather side-bags are original.” He patted the seat. “You’ve ridden her before. But are you interested in buying her?”

  Words continued to elude me. “Yeah…” I blurted finally. How could I refuse? “But how much?”

  “You can have her for one-fifty.”

  “No way.” Trevor had to be joking. “But it’s worth ten times that!”

  Trevor nodded, still grinning. Then he folded his arms, watching my eyes sweep over the motorcycle like it was beyond my reach. “Hey, I know what it’s like to want wheels. And my dad driving you to school every day?” He grimaced. “Dude, that’s lame.”

  I exhaled in continued disbelief. Staring back at the bike, I felt as if my whole body was about to float into the air. “You have no idea.”

  He chortled. “Oh, but I do. I remember all too well. A dude’s gotta have his own wheels. Period.”

  “Funny, that’s what a friend of mine keeps telling me.”

  “Dude gotta name?”