“What is it?” I ask.
Leo lifts his sleeve, showing me the colorful imprint on his tanned shoulder. “A totem.” When I lean in close, he touches one of the interlocking faces that make up the tattoo. “My spirit guide.”
The abstract tattoo vaguely reminds me of animal faces, but they could be anything from toucans to sloths. I’m still curious, but when I start to ask what his totem is, he taps his shoulder and lets his shirtsleeve drop.
“I have to go, Ruby. Next week?”
I nod, and he gives me a quick hug before sprinting off.
I watch him go, thinking about all the questions I forgot to ask. It annoys me how being near Leo rewires my brain; how I forget about simple things most people think about, like where he lives, and his last name, and whether or not he goes to college.
“My head is like that strainer when I’m around him,” I complain to Liddy during breakfast the next morning, pointing to the colander near the sink.
“I don’t like you hanging out with a stranger in the woods.” Liddy frowns.
“Ooh, Liddy, 'Stranger in the Woods.’ Isn’t that a book?”
Liddy gets up and refills her coffee cup. “Why are you always so sassy?”
“Why are you always so paranoid?”
“I worry about you.” She runs her fingers through her hair and takes a sip of coffee. “Speaking of boys, what about Angel? You never told me about your date Friday night.”
“I really haven’t seen you. But it was fine, I guess.”
“Fine?”
I sigh. “Tell me about Torrance instead.”
“Torrance?” She frowns.
“You went out with him this week, didn’t you? I mean, you saw him Wednesday and again last night.”
Liddy looks embarrassed. “We had dinner. He’s really easy to talk to, Ruby. And we have a good time.”
I move to the kitchen alcove and spread out over a pile of pillows. Outside, fat black rain clouds mask the sun. “You like him?”
“We get along.”
I raise my eyebrows, sure “we get along” means something else. “Glad to hear it,” I mutter. “What did you guys do last night?”
“We had dinner in Las Vegas. Then we went back to Torrance’s house—to watch a movie,” she adds.
“I went to bed at two. You weren’t back yet.”
“It was a long movie,” she smiles. “And we had a lot to talk about.”
Liddy gets up, stretches, and then comes over to the alcove to sit down beside me. She puts her hand on my knee and looks out the window. “Torrance is a gentleman. For your sake, I found myself hoping Angel is as wonderful.”
I put my head on her shoulder. “He is.”
“But?”
“I don’t know?” I shrug. Truth be told, I can’t stop thinking about Leo.
“Well, between Angel and your mystery man, it’s not like you’re bereft of choices. Just remember Stanford next year. A boyfriend may not be the best idea, for obvious reasons.”
I pretend to choke, then plunge my ears with my fingers, letting my mouth fall open. Liddy and Mom started pestering me to get out and date the summer before tenth grade. They were always like, Why don’t you have a boyfriend, Ruby? Why don’t you go out more, Ruby? Stop studying so much and have some fun, Ruby.
Liddy laughs. “I’m just looking out for your best interests.” She gets up and heads for the stairs. “I’m going to take a shower. I still have a mountain of work to do this morning, so if you want the car, it’s yours. Just be back by six.”
“Thanks.” I get up and kiss her, then walk back to the kitchen, pausing for a minute before plunking down in the alcove again. “Liddy,” I stop her, “I meant to ask … we never really talk about why you bought Mom a house in New Mexico of all places. I was wondering about it the other night.”
Liddy freezes. When she turns around, she looks a little crestfallen. “When we were younger, Sera used to take off a lot. She had friends in Albuquerque; they hitchhiked all over New Mexico. She fell in love with it.”
“Did you know where she was?”
“Then? No. She’d disappear and call me somewhere from the road.”
“Some things never change,” I mutter.
“She came out this way now and then after you were born, but she never wanted to talk about it. Honestly, love, your mom was always a bit of a mystery. There was a lot more than I knew going on inside her head.”
Liddy looks so sad. I stand up and go to her, hugging her so hard she gasps. “You’re suffocating me,” she laughs.
“I didn’t know.” I step back. “You must have worried a lot.”
“It’s a full-time job.” She shrugs, pretending like I often do, that she’s invincible. “I’m going upstairs, love. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I am.” I blow her a kiss and head back to the alcove. “Go.”
“Ruby.” She clears her throat, pausing on the bottom stair. “This is probably a bad time to say this, so don’t kill me.”
“What?”
She draws her lips back over her teeth and rushes out, “IinvitedTorranceandAngelover.”
“What?” I shriek. “Liddy! When?”
“For dinner. Tonight. Sorry.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” I want to be mad, but she so reminds me of myself, I can’t even pretend I don’t understand. “Fine. But I’m not cooking. And I’m not, like, putting on a dress.”
“I’ll cook. And you can come in your PJs. How’s that?”
I shake my head. “If you’re lucky, I’ll be home by five-thirty.”
Liddy bites back a smile, trying to look serious. “You do that.”
She walks upstairs, shaking her head for effect. When I hear her bedroom door close, I run upstairs after her and quickly dress. My heart already feels like it’s tied in knots. Thinking about Angel confuses me; thinking about having dinner with both Angel and Torrance makes me feel like I may throw up.
Nine
The People We Become
I decide to drive into La Luna. Near Margarita’s, I pass Ezra on the street and wave, pointing to the parking spot I plan to grab a few rows up. He stops, waiting on the sidewalk with an impatient scowl.
“You looked lovely Friday night,” he grumps when I catch up.
“Thank you,” I answer graciously, knowing he’s full of it. “Where are you off to?”
“My truck.”
“Come to Margarita’s with me?”
Ezra’s face is perfectly immobile. He stares at me passionlessly as if observing a beetle on the sidewalk.
“Please?”
“Why? You feeling lonely again?”
I raise an eyebrow, Liddy-style. “Did I do something?”
“No,” he scowls.
“Then stop being a jerk and come in with me,” I scowl back.
“I have things to do.”
“What things?”
“Stuff.”
“That’s brilliant. ‘Stuff.’” I put my hands on my hips. “What if I promise to only drive you crazy for a couple of minutes? I’ll buy you a piece of pie to top it off.”
Ezra makes a heavy noise that hangs in the air between us. He drops his shoulders. “Fine. For a couple minutes.”
Inside Margarita’s, fewer people stare at us, but it’s obvious everyone thinks I’m nuts for hanging out with him. Ezra heads for the back of the diner and plops down in the booth farthest from the door. He slides toward the wall, then squashes up against it when I slide in beside him.
“There’s a seat over there.” He points across the table.
“Yeah, but I thought we could do the crossword together.”
From the side, Ezra looks like he isn’t sure whether he wants to smile at me or push me out of the booth. When I pull the crossword out of my backpack, he mumbles, “The crossword takes more than a few minutes,” and grabs it out of my hands. After we order pie and coffee, he takes my pen and swiftly begins filling in the boxes.
“Are you jus
t guessing?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Give it to me.” I pull the paper over and glance sideways, a little amazed he’s gotten so many so fast. “Wow, you’re good.”
Ezra grins. “I already did it this morning.”
“All right, let me rephrase that. Wow, you’re an ass.”
He chuckles. “I thought we already established that.”
“Why do I feel like you really enjoy annoying me?” I ask, sort of joking.
Though Ezra is being his normal prickly self, something between us feels different. He sits closer as we work on the puzzle and leans toward me when he speaks. Beneath his grumpy façade, he seems comfortable.
“Because I do.”
“Well, you know what they say about boys who like to annoy girls.”
“I don’t,” he says. “Tell me.”
“Forget it.”
Ezra turns sideways in his seat and rests an elbow on the table. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
Suddenly, he reaches over and brushes hair out of my eye, surprising us both. Just as abruptly, he sits back and clears his throat. “So, what’s going on with you and Angel?”
I swallow, startled by his brief display of affection. “Why?”
For a moment, he stares, looking thoughtful. “You’re too smart for him.”
“Wait. Was that a compliment?”
“I’m just being honest.”
“And are you actually trying to give me advice?”
“I’m trying to be a friend.” He shrugs.
“Thanks, but I wouldn’t worry too much.”
“No?”
“We’re just friends.”
“I think he has more than friendship on his mind.”
“Maybe.” I sigh, still fazed Ezra’s touch affected me. “But that’s all it is right now.”
Ezra stares at me like he doesn’t get it. “You don’t think he’s attractive?”
“He is. But that doesn’t mean I want to date him. Don’t be so superficial.”
“Don’t be naïve. Appearances matter.”
“To some people, maybe.”
“Really?” He squints. “Then you must be an exception.”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Ezra’s mouth tugs just a twitch to the right. “Ruby, if you’re determined to drive me crazy for longer than a few minutes, maybe we can take it somewhere else.”
“Like where?”
“Have you been to Villanueva State Park? It’s just past Pecos.”
“No.”
“Do you know how to fish?”
“Not really.”
“Do you want to learn?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I guess. As long as I’m back by around five-thirty.”
“Come on.” He throws a ten on the table over my protests, gets up, and walks out of Margarita’s, assuming I’ll follow. “I’ll drive,” he says over his back.
I follow Ezra down the street toward his truck. He climbs into the cab and opens the passenger door from the inside. Not very smooth. And very un-Angel-like. Comparatively, Ezra’s lack of decorum is almost funny.
Scattered fishing poles and tackle clutter the back of his pickup, and I realize that he’d probably been on his way to Villanueva when I attacked. “Thanks for inviting me,” I chirp. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”
Ezra turns to me with a genuine smile. “No, you haven’t.”
I wrinkle my nose and smile apologetically. “I have for at least the last five minutes.”
Ezra explains the how-tos of fishing while he drives, speaking in a smooth, mesmerizing voice about balance tackle, and bail pickup, and downriggers—words I’ve definitely never heard used in everyday life. When we get to the park, he piles my arms full of fishing gear. I trail behind him, helping carry his poles and cooler, and a chair, and his tackle box down to the river.
Near the bank of the river, he puts a fishing pole in my hand and stands right behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders so he can maneuver his wide calloused palms over my grip. But he seems stiff and a little uncomfortable.
“Do you mind?” he asks.
“Um, no.” I hesitate. “Whatever.”
He pulls my hands back along with the reel and says something about “hauling,” then whips the rod toward the river. The line flies across the water, glinting under the sun like drops of silver floating over the river’s surface.
When it stops, Ezra exhales. I feel his warm body move against my back, and I am completely comfortable and painfully aware of his immediacy. He keeps his hands on mine until a few moments after the lure sinks, like we’re one body, until I nervously clear my throat. Then he abruptly lets go and steps to my side.
“Spot-on.” He smiles down at me.
“There’s no way I can do that on my own,” I gulp.
“You will. Eventually, you’ll go from hooking the grass to making it across the river. It just takes time.”
Ezra casts his own line and plunks down on the bank next to the spot I staked out. He grabs a soda from the cooler, holding a bottle of Dr Pepper up in the sunlight. “My only vice.”
We sit for a while, passing the bottle back and forth when things get too quiet—until Ezra’s line rattles.
Ezra jumps up and wrestles with his pole, pulling up a strange-looking fish the size of Texas. “Channel catfish.” He looks back at me. “They usually don’t come out until dusk.”
The catfish bounces furiously on Ezra’s line. When I move to touch its barbs, he stops me. “Don’t. They’re sharp. And venomous.”
Pulling my hand back, I shudder. “Yikes.”
He puts the fish in a smaller cooler then recasts his line, propping the reel in a hole he dug in the ground next to the one he dug for mine. Ezra grabs a sandwich and splits it in two, offering me half. While we eat, I think about his incredible mind, marveling at how he knows so much about so many interesting subjects.
“Hey.” I bump his shoulder with my own. “You never did tell me how you got to be such a history buff.”
Ezra stretches his arms out over his knees in front of him, dangling his sandwich above the grass. “My mother knows everything. And she’s fond of sharing it.”
As he speaks, my line moves downstream. Faster than lightning, Ezra jumps up again, taking my hand with him. He throws me at my pole, positioning himself behind me much the same way he did when we cast it. Moving gently, he tugs and releases in increments until the line pulls up a sleek fish with smooth, mottled skin.
“Cutthroat trout,” he says behind me.
“Can we throw it back?”
“Are you kidding?” He looks down over my shoulder, tilting his face sideways to see mine.
“Well … no? I’m not sure how I feel about killing it.”
“It’s a fish, Ruby. You take it home and eat it. I’ll show you how to clean it before we leave.” He lets go of me and unhooks the fish, adding it to the one in the cooler.
After Ezra helps me set up the line again, he sits down on the bank. Grabbing my sandwich off the ground where I left it, I sit down beside him and lean sideways into his shoulder. “So, your mother passed along what?” I prompt, hoping he’ll continue where he left off.
“Our history.”
“Our history?”
“Pecos. Remember when I said there are only a few people left with Pecos blood? My mother’s ancestors came from the Pecos Pueblo.”
“Seriously? That’s awesome.” Knowing Ezra can trace his family history back to an extinct culture adds mystery to his already complex personality. Liddy says we can trace a handful of our ancestors as far back as my great-great grandfathers from Ukraine and Russia, but after that, it’s speculative at best.
“My great-grandfather about nine times removed came over from Spain during the Inquisition. He married a Pecos woman and stayed down at the pueblo until he died. My great-great-great grandfather’s family secured a land grant, land we st
ill own, when the pueblo collapsed. The rest went up to Jemez.”
“So, most of your family live in Jemez now?”
“Just my mother. She’s Shiankya Pecos. That was her clan. Far as I know, other than us, there aren’t any others left. My dad was half Navajo. He died a couple years back. He has family all over the Southwest. I’ve got cousins all over New Mexico, but we’re not close.”
“You live alone? On your land?”
“Ever since my mother moved up to Jemez.”
“She left you the house?”
He nods. “I took it over after I came back.”
“From school?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes.”
“What happened? I mean, why’d you leave Boston?”
Ezra stares at me curiously. “How’d you know I went to college in Boston?”
“I heard.” I shrug.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m sorry. I … I just want to know you better.”
He slumps a little and sighs. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories.”
“People say you were in some kind of accident. And that you came home around the end of your sophomore year. But that’s it.”
He drops his head sideways on his knees, which he’s pulled close to his chest. His ear meets his blue jeans, and he leaves it there for a long time, staring off into the distance.
“I’m being nosy. I’m sorry, Ezra.”
Ezra lifts his head and meets my eyes, looking past my speed bumps and guardrails and all the infinite stop signs, seeing me more clearly, I’m sure, than most of the people who’ve known me all my life. “Tell me about your mother, first.”
Surprisingly, I find myself wanting to tell him. Even the things I’ve never said out loud before because they make me feel like a mean or hateful daughter. “She was gone a lot. I used to think it was my fault, like she didn’t want to be with me or something. Liddy assured me it was just Mom’s way, but I never believed her. I’m pretty sure I reminded Mom of what she gave up. Before me, she was on this fast track to supermodel stardom. Then, like that,” I snap for emphasis, “she wasn’t.”
He frowns. “You know that’s not your fault.”
Between Wild and Ruin Page 11