We traversed the moonlit prairie in search of our next great coup. The meadows were wiry and golden, shining with the reflections of watery stars. Possums and prairie chickens rustled unseen in the brush.
"Let's get peyote!" Allen said, in fringed buckskin and coup feathers.
"Annie wanted to get some for Mary," Aubrey said. "Come to think of it, Annie talks about Mary a lot--"
"Rafael, watch the road!" Stuart screeched.
Something big and beige jumped out at us. I leapt to attention. The prairie fell flat and churned black, the grass shrinking into asphalt. I swerved us off of the road and we wound up in the desert. It took all of two seconds before Allen screamed.
"Stop it!" I yelled. I killed the engine.
"What was that?" Aubrey asked, shaken.
"I think it was an antelope," Sarah said calmly.
"Do you have a flashlight?" Stuart asked, leaning across the back of my seat. "It didn't hit us, but it might be injured."
"I bet it was a Delgeth," Sleeping Fox said vaguely.
"Stop it. Delgeth aren't real. Rafael?"
I fumbled in the glove compartment with jittery hands. I found a flashlight and twenty dollars. I powered the flashlight on. Sky got out of the car with me, rubbing circles against the small of my back. He pointed farther down the road.
It wasn't a Delgeth, for starters. It wasn't an antelope, either. It was a slender, white-tailed deer--no antlers; a doe. Sky put his hand around mine and we approached her. I crouched down. Sky winced, turning his head to give the doe some privacy. She was heavily pregnant--and dilating by the second.
"What's going on?" Zeke asked cheerfully, jogging after us. "Oh my God!" he yelled a moment later.
"Don't be an asshole," I said.
"Don't look! Don't look!" Zeke said.
"It's The Reckoning!" Allen added.
"Just leave her," Stuart advised. "It'll be over in twenty minutes and they'll both head into the desert."
Yeah, that would've been ideal. Except just then a skinny black hoof came jutting out of the mom. I joined Sky in wincing.
"She's breeched," I explained.
Sky held my gaze. I could tell he didn't know what to do. He rubbed the doe's back with a soft hand, but I don't think she even noticed his presence. I stripped my jacket off, muttering. I tensed.
You don't have to, Sky said, shaking his head.
I hated touching live animals. Their feelings made no sense to me.
"Would you be okay putting your hands in her?" I asked.
"Oh man, oh man," Zeke groaned.
"Let me help," Aubrey offered, rushing over to Sky and me. "It's fine, we've had breech births on our farm before."
Aubrey rolled his sleeves back. Sky signed something to him I didn't catch. Aubrey told Sky to hold the doe's hind legs and make sure she didn't kick. Without preamble, Aubrey put his hands inside her. She tried to kick, alright, but Sky held her hooves down. I grabbed her front legs and felt what I thought was fear. Not-bright-cold-hurt-herd-away--
"The umbilical cord's intact," Aubrey breathed. "Thank goodness. Let me just turn the fawn around--"
"I'm gonna puke!" Zeke yelled.
"Shut up!" I yelled.
Sky looked at me, worried.
"Have you seen a deer in labor before now?" I asked Aubrey.
He twisted his hands very slowly, but with a good deal of effort. "Ah, no--"
"Tuck the fawn's head into its chest," I said. "They always come out that way, I dunno why."
Aubrey heaved. The head came through with the second front hoof. Another heave, and the whole baby came out. Sky took his jacket off and patted the damp fawn dry. Aubrey broke the umbilical cord with his bare hands, which ought to give you a good idea about how strong he really was.
"Zeke passed out," Sleeping Fox said.
"On it," Stuart sighed.
"What's going on here, gentlemen?"
None of us had noticed when an unlit cop car pulled up next to the SUV. A state trooper straggled over to us with a flashlight in his hand, his uniform brown, his hat round and funny-looking.
Sky gave me a grim, resigned glance.
"She gave birth!" Aubrey said to the cop, oblivious. "Look at the both of them, aren't they precious?"
"And not Delgeth!" Allen said.
The trooper glanced at me from underneath raised eyebrows. "Can I see some ID?"
I must've done something to give us away. Or maybe cops can smell the lies on you. I swallowed, scooping my jacket off the ground.
"Officer, I can explain," Stuart said, marching toward us.
He didn't have to. The trooper took one look at him and relented.
"Nothing doing," the trooper said. "Just make sure your kids aren't driving after dark, okay? Especially on this road."
You can't imagine the look on Stu's face when he realized the trooper thought he was our dad. I didn't blame the trooper, though; Stu's face was marred with exhaustion and worry lines, and the dark circles made him look like he'd battled death and lost. His mouth dropped open and didn't close. The trooper strode back to his squad car.
"He's not our father," began Allen, who was born without the lying gene. "He--"
Sarah stood on her toes, covering Allen's mouth. The trooper got in the white car and drove away. Zeke woke up just in time to burst out laughing. He laughed so hard it echoed obnoxiously into the desert.
"Do I really look that old?" Stuart whispered.
Sky shook his head No, because Sky was kind. Stuart shuddered all the same. Aubrey wiped his hands on my jacket. The fawn stood on wobbly, newborn legs. Her coat was silver and silky, speckled with dark gray dots.
"Good girl," I muttered, suppressing a smile.
The fawn and her tired mom picked their way into the desert. The mom looked back at us. Sky waved after them, the huge dork. He caught my eye and grinned the cheesiest grin I'd ever seen on a human face. I didn't know what was better: him, or the deer. The deer might've won, but only by a margin. It's an indescribable feeling to watch new life grace the planet. Animals in particular are just special. They don't know how to lie, you know? Sometimes I think they're the closest thing to God we're ever gonna meet.
"I don't want Rafael driving," Sleeping Fox said. "He's going to kill us."
"I'm sixteen! Sixteen!" Stuart said.
Sky climbed into in the driver's seat, taking me by surprise. I sat beside him, and the rest of the guys piled in the back, Sarah singing He Wasn't Man Enough. I wondered which one of us she had in mind. The reserve wasn't so far away, but Sky was lousy with directions. Aubrey talked him down the turnpike and north into Nettlebush. I saw the dim lights from the hospital and the log cabins and I breathed with relief. It felt good to be home.
"This car smells," Sleeping Fox said.
"Did you drop food in here?" I demanded.
We got out of the SUV, the lights turned off in the parking lot. Zeke let out an irritating war whoop and Sarah talked to Aubrey about Saturday morning cartoons. Sky lined his fingers up with mine, capturing my hand. The SUV's rear lights flashed on my glasses, momentarily blinding me.
"Who the hell taught you to drive?" I asked.
Sky pointed at himself.
"Does your dad know?" I asked, awed.
Sky grinned like the cat that got the canary.
"You're insane," I said, reverent. "Don't let him find out. Ask him to teach you or something. Hell, teach me while you're at it."
Sky balled his hands in fists. I could see the happiness in his smile, the sheer love. I rolled my eyes, but I might have been smiling, too. I said, "You act like you've never delivered a deer before."
"Sounds like you had a busy night," Uncle Gabriel said.
I all but jumped out of my boots. A prickly chill trailed down my spine. Sky cringed.
"The keys, Rafael," Uncle Gabriel said, hand extended.
The look on his face terrified me. He was angrier than I'd ever seen him, all the kindness gone from his eyes. His jaw
was clenched so tightly I thought the bone would come jutting out of his chin. I put the car keys in his hand, my hand shaking. He swallowed them up with thick fingers, thrusting them into his pocket.
"Say good night to your friends," Uncle Gabriel said.
"G'night," I barely mumbled.
"I don't think they heard you," Uncle Gabriel said.
"Good night," I said more loudly.
Sky and Zeke and Aubrey looked after me with worry. I shut off their faces in my head. I followed Uncle Gabriel down the path between the pines, my heart thudding audibly in my ears. I imagined that the trees were falling down around me, snapping and groaning and slamming into the earth, clouds of leaves rising in their wake. Growing up means facing the day you betray your parents for the first time.
Uncle Gabriel said nothing to me until we were actually in the house. He flipped the overhead lights on, Isaac and Mary snoring together on the couch. He went into the kitchen and I followed him, thinking he wanted to chew me out.
Bingo. He slammed his hands on the counter. He spun around to face me.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm really sorry." It was true.
"How dare you?" Uncle Gabriel asked.
The kitchen walls curled up like wet paper. The light Sky had given me shrank behind my back, shadows spreading on the floor. My imagination was my worst enemy.
"Do you realize you could have gotten every last one of your friends killed?" Uncle Gabriel demanded.
"I'm sorry," I could only say. I was so stupid.
"You'll be lucky if I let you go to the Warm Dance after this," Uncle Gabriel said, livid. "You're grounded. Don't ask me how long. Assume indefinitely. And I want you to apologize to Rosa. You took advantage of her trust in you. You of all people should know she doesn't deserve that."
It hurt like hell to realize what a jerk I'd been. Grounding was the least of what I deserved. I wanted to apologize again; but Uncle Gabriel didn't let me. He left the kitchen so abruptly I felt that a whirlwind had taken him away. I sat on my knees, quelling the tightness in my chest with my fists. The papery walls flaked down on me like snow. All the breath left me in a single gulp.
Maybe Zeke was right about Custer's Curse.
6
Sweet-Talker
December wasn't all that different from November, except that a lukewarm wind washed away the autumn leaves, stripping the skinny trees naked. In the mornings I put my hands on the big gray trunk of my southern oak, mourning the loss of its splendid clothing. I thought of the end of pauwaus, those unbearable evening hours when we took off our intricate regalia and went back to sneakers and t-shirts, suits and ties, taipo'o garments that hung as foreign on our skin as the English spoken on our soil. We only got to dress traditional four times a year, but when we did, we were more ourselves than we were the other three hundred and sixty-one days.
The best part about December was the end-of-term exams, 'cause they meant no more school until February. But the exams were the worst part, too. Early one morning I sat wedged between Sky and Annie at our desk, staring at the thick pamphlet in front of me. The questions morphed in front of my face like a foreign language.
What year was the Dawes Act signed? Explain how the Act undermined Indian sovereignty.
Has the Treaty of Fort Laramie been violated? Why or why not?
Which tribe was responsible for creating the first draft of the US Constitution?
What was Terra Nullius?
I'd read all of this before. I'd studied it every night for the past week. And I didn't remember a damn thing.
At the end of the school day, about noon, I met up with Sky and Annie and Aubrey in the backyard. The first graders played on the tree swings, John Seth Grace pushing Jack Nabako. Aubrey and Annie very pointedly avoided one another's gaze. I found out why when Annie turned her eyes on me, blazing like black coals.
"So I'm not good enough for your nighttime dalliances, am I?" she asked.
I started. "Annie, it was totally spur of the moment."
"That's what I've been trying to tell her!" Aubrey said hurriedly.
"Oh, but you couldn't come and fetch me, is that it?" Annie asked. "You'd rather have Allen Calling Owl in the car with you?"
Allen happened to walk by us just then. He jumped, as though struck by a gong. He threw Annie a puzzled look.
"I swear to God, I didn't even wanna go!" I said through my teeth, annoyed.
"Of course you didn't!" Annie said.
Sky put his hand on Annie's arm, a line on his forehead, his face serious. Annie calmed minimally. "Of course," she said, "I know you didn't have a say in the matter, Skylar--"
I gagged loudly. Annie spun toward me on her heel, her hair flying. I shrank back.
"Annie," I said, "you wouldn't have gone for something like that, anyhow. You're too responsible--"
"Too responsible? Is that what you think of me?"
"Alright, alright," Aubrey said quickly, jumping in. "I think you should leave Rafael alone. He's made a mistake and he's suffering enough for it, really."
Annie blew a clump of hair free from her eyes. Righteous fury looked weird on a girl so tiny and waifish, her pointy little chin, her ski bump nose. I didn't get the chance to apologize to her. Mr. Red Clay came out through the school's back door, arms folded loosely. He raised an imperial eyebrow at the four of us.
"What?" I asked miserably.
"I'm fairly certain three of you are supposed to be grounded right now," Mr. Red Clay said. "Would you like me to walk you home?"
I scowled. Of course he freaking knew we were grounded. Sometimes it sucked living in a community so small.
"Teacher!" Jack yelled from the swings. "My hiney itches!"
I trudged home dejectedly, my hands in my pockets. I didn't realize Sky was following me until he took my hand out of my pocket and wrapped it around his. He was warm, and he was everything nice about the world, his brown jacket zipped halfway, the scarf around his neck swallowing him up. It wasn't that cold out. I watched him for a while: the way the weak sun found his hair through the pronged tree branches; the way his curls shifted when the wind envied them. I didn't know why it envied him. He was already Wind and Sky.
"Sky," I said. "Are you gay?"
Sky dropped my hand, staring incredulously.
"It's just," I hastened. I knew how dumb I sounded. "I kept assuming you were gay, but some people like guys and still like girls. I mean. For all I know, you could be bi--"
Sky tugged me down by my jacket. Sky kissed the breath out of me, stealing it for his own. I thought at first that he was trying to shut me up; but when I felt the insistence behind his lips, I understood. It wasn't a matter of whether he liked boys or girls. He liked me. I just happened to be a boy.
I could've gone on kissing Sky forever. I buried my hands in the small of his back, hunched over him, his hands curled at my chest. His legs fitted between mine, his floppy hair tickling my cheeks. It was like that scenario I described with the regalia. I was more of me when I was with Sky. I was among the clouds, and the sun, and the seam in the fabric of reality.
"Wait," I muttered. I let go of him with great reluctance. "Uncle Gabe's gonna kill me if I stay out too long."
He locked his hands behind my neck and kissed my dimples. He went on kissing them, with the result that I lost my train of thought. Once I cottoned on I showed him a reproachful look. He didn't care. He took my hand and kissed that, too.
"That's it," I said.
I grabbed Sky in one arm, slinging him over my shoulder. His belly spasmed with surprised laughter. He slapped my back and kicked his legs, which had about the same effect as swatting a boulder with a feather. I carried him down the crossroads to his house, appropriately cross with him. A couple of people stared at us along the way. What did I care? It was Sky's fault, not mine.
When I went back to my house my chief concern was for Sky's father. Now that I was grounded I couldn't follow Mary around the reservation anymore. But as it happened, Mary wa
sn't up for killing Paul today. I was grabbing lunch in the kitchen when I heard retching down the hall. I put down the hotbread and walked outside. I found Mary in the bathroom in her fuzzy bunny pajamas, kneeling on the floor, hugging the toilet bowl.
"What did that?" I asked, scared.
She surfaced. Her face was free of piercings and makeup, but the dark circles around her eyes made her look like a raccoon. Her skin was waxy, her teeth chattering.
"Detox," Mary said.
I got on the floor and rubbed her back, frightened at the bumps in her fragile spine. She bent over the toilet and vomited again. I held her hair away from her face. She raised her head and gasped for breath, dry and sucking. I stood and turned the faucet on in the sink, catching water in my cupped palm.
"You think you could eat some pine nut soup?" I asked. "Y'want rose tea?"
"Oh, God, no," Mary moaned.
I knelt again. Mary drank the water from my hand, her lips pale and cracked. I put my arm around her back and helped her off the floor, flushing the toilet the toilet. We shuffled out into the hall together and I got her into her bedroom. I peeled the blankets back on her bed. She dumped herself on the mattress.
"I wish I had a redo," Mary said, pulling her legs up. "Every human being should get just one redo. That's enough to make your life a little better, but not too much that you'll be reckless with your choices."
"Is this really okay?" I asked skittishly. "Should I get you to the hospital?"
"Nah, it's good," Mary said. "They had me on this huge cocktail of antibiotics, now they're weaning me off..."
I sat on the bed with her. She hugged her pillow, exactly like a little kid.
"Want I should read to you?" I asked.
Mary mustered up a grin. "Whatcha gonna read?"
"Wait a minute," I said.
I went into the kitchen and ate lunch first, but it only took a few minutes tops. I put a bucket beside Mary's bed and we sat together against her headboard, me reading to her from Carmilla. Carmilla made me think way too much of myself. She was a monster, and she couldn't help it, but the way she loved Laura was all-consuming. It was the same way I loved Sky. Even when I wasn't thinking about him I was thinking about him. Me and Carmilla, we had to be careful, because sometimes we forgot that humans were fragile and needed to be loved gently. I don't mean to say that I was a monster. I knew I wasn't. I knew, too, that I had a monster's blood in me.