I didn't know if Paul was trying to scare me, but he'd succeeded. I think what scared me most was that I'd never thought of Sky as vulnerable before. He wasn't any different from the rest of our friends. He could talk to you if he wanted to; just not with his voice.
The next day was a Saturday. Mary woke me at sun-up and shoved a plate of corn fritters under my nose. I almost vomited; not because I didn't like corn fritters, but because I hated eating first thing in the morning. She dragged me out of my bed and marched me into the bathroom, where I washed my face in a sleepy stupor.
"I'm not kidding," Mary said outside the door. "You'd better eat. I know how grumpy you get when you don't."
"I'm grumpy all the time," I said.
I shuffled outside the bathroom, restless. I stopped in my tracks when I saw Mary. At some point she'd changed out of her pajamas and into a neat gray pants suit. The piercings were gone from her eyebrow and nose. The dark makeup around her eyes was subtle, her lips painted, her hair pinned back in a scraggly bun. In the blink of an eye she'd aged ten years.
"You gonna get dressed, or what?" Mary said. She shouldered a sleek gray purse that looked suspiciously like it belonged in Rosa's closet.
"What am I dressing for," I scowled, "Grandma's wedding?"
"Don't be stupid," Mary dismissed. "Grandma marries that lady friend of hers, she'll want us to wear regalia."
I stomped into my room and threw on new jeans. I pulled on my Kashtin shirt, because those guys were boss. I put on my eyeglasses, downed my corn fritters, and followed Mary out the front door.
The reservation looked blurry by sunrise. I couldn't see why it was Sky's favorite time of day; but then maybe that was because there weren't any colors to it. I dragged my feet while Mary led me to the hospital parking lot, unlocking Uncle Gabriel's black car. I crawled into the back of it, ready to sleep. Mary honked the horn when I nodded off. I jumped, hitting my head on the roof.
"You just woke up the Long Ways!" I screeched.
"Good! Let them appreciate the beauty of a fine spring morning."
Mary pulled us out of the parking lot. The tires hit the gravel, then the asphalt, the turnpike empty, the desert blinding. The car roared loudly when Mary floored the pedal. I fell off the seat and hit the floor on my knees.
"You're nuts!" I complained.
"Beating the traffic!" Mary cackled.
She drove us east on the turnpike. I never bothered getting off the floor, but gradually Mary slowed down until I couldn't feel my teeth rattling in my mouth. I grasped my knees. I kept thinking about what Paul had said: How he didn't really want to die, but only wanted somebody to notice what was going on. That way they could come up with a better way for us to live. I was the one who had noticed. Did that mean it was my job to come up with a better way?
"You can get up now, squirt," Mary advised.
I sat up on the leather seat, dizzy. I peeked out the window. The city around us looked surreal, the buildings lopsided, like children's toys. This was one of those places where you couldn't feel nature tugging at your navel.
"Here we are," Mary said.
She parked the car outside a scratchy building that reminded me of an ancient Greek temple. I'm talking pillars and everything. I stumbled when we climbed out of the SUV. The sign hanging under the building's roof read: "Child Protective Services." My stomach sank.
"Whatever I say next," Mary told me, "you keep your mouth shut."
She walked partway down the sidewalk to a trio of women standing by a trash can, smoking cigarettes. All three of were dressed formal, vests and blazers and white cotton blouses.
"Angela!" Mary said boisterously. She patted one of the women on the back. "Hey!"
The lady jumped. "I'm Josephine," she said, puzzled.
"Whoops," Mary said. "Forgot to wear my contacts today, don't tell the big guy."
All four of 'em laughed, but on the strangers' part, it was confused. On Mary's part, it was maniacal. I worried she was going to get herself arrested. I dashed over to her side, grabbed her hand, and dragged her back down the sidewalk. I noticed for the first time she was wearing high heels.
"How the hell do you walk in those?" I asked.
"With excruciating pain," Mary said.
She led me up the steps outside the scratchy building, between the pillars, and over to a pair of reinforced doors. The little metal plate beside the doors told me we weren't getting in without some kind of key. Mary winked at me and pulled Josephine's ID card out of her pocket.
I gaped. "What did you--"
Mary elbowed me, hard, until I quieted down. I glared at her. She flashed the ID card at the glowing dot on the metal plate. I heard the hinges in the doors click, and then she pushed the doors open with her hands.
"You're nuts," I rasped.
"Shut up," Mary said.
We walked through some kind of standing metal machine. It freaked me the hell out. Mary waltzed over to a big guy behind a desk and told him she was from the Los Portales office, whatever that was. He printed a sticker out of the weird machine attached to his computer. Mary taped the sticker to her blazer. She strode over to a clear glass elevator and I scampered in after her, bewildered.
"Mary," I whispered.
"I told you to shut up," she said beneath her breath, doors sliding closed.
We rode the climbing elevator in silence. The only other passenger was a smiling guy with an egg-shaped face. I felt afraid to look at him, like if I did, he'd see the dishonesty in my eyes. Mercifully, Mary and I got out on the fourth floor. The colorless hallway stretched on endlessly, until at last, Mary stopped inside a random cubicle. She sat down on a frayed gray chair opposite a woman with big curls. The woman yawned.
"He's a bit of a problem child," Mary said apologetically.
I glowered.
"There you go, see?" Mary said. "He'd make a better fit in a house with other kids--"
"What--" I choked.
"--I'd just prefer him to stay in this city. He lived here for thirteen years before his last caseworker shipped him to Los Portales."
"Understandable," said the tired woman. "I'll give you a list of group homes in the area."
"You're an angel," Mary said.
"Oh," the woman said, blushing.
When we finally left the building Mary dropped Josephine's ID card haphazardly on the ground. We got into Uncle Gabriel's car, Mary whistling a song I didn't recognize. My ears were ringing with nervousness and disbelief.
"Do you realize you can go to jail if they figure out what you did?" I hissed.
"Can't arrest me on the rez," Mary replied, careless.
She locked the car. She skimmed the list of foster homes, then tucked it into my hands. The paper felt like the graphing kind we used in math class, flimsy and thin. I sank miserably in my seat, Mary putting the car in park. We sped down the street, a stronger sun standing in the sky.
"We're gonna check every damn foster home in the city," Mary said.
I swallowed. That sounded like it could take a while.
Yeah, it took a while. First we stopped at a dilapidated house under a train overpass. The owner was a guy with a red face and a beer gut and he reminded me a little of Annie's grandfather. Mary told him my name was Uriel, and I came from the Papago rez, and she was surveying foster homes that had other Native kids in 'em to make the transition easier on me. I tried not to groan. Beer Gut Guy let us inside to meet his ensemble. About a dozen kids lived in that joint. To my surprise, seven of 'em were Native. None of 'em were Sky. I looked at Mary in question when Beer Gut's back was turned. Mary pressed her finger to her lips.
"Why were so many of them Native?" I asked, when Mary and I left the house.
Mary unlocked Uncle Gabe's car. "Eh?"
"Just seems weird," I said. I climbed into the passenger seat. "We're outnumbered by taipo'o ten to one in this country. Shouldn't it be that way in foster homes, too?"
Mary got in the driver's seat and reversed the car. She d
idn't answer me.
We checked out three more foster homes before the noon sun usurped its morning predecessor. Mary told me it was time to stop for lunch. I protested, but not well enough, 'cause the next thing I knew, we were pulling up to a drive-in.
"What do you want?" Mary asked.
"Uh," I said. "Blue corn mush?"
"They don't have blue corn mush."
"What about wojapi?"
"Nope."
"Get me whatever you're having," I muttered, moody.
She bought us these weird pizza sandwiches, the dough like cardboard and the cheese like rubber. She drove us to a sad excuse for a park, the trees potted and the pond manmade. We ate together on a steel bench, the sun hot on the back of my neck.
"I can't believe you're impersonating a freaking social worker," I groused.
"Like you have any better ideas?" Mary countered.
I dug Paul's phone out of my pants pocket, and the paper with the beeper number on it. I pressed the phone's "on" button; but maybe my fat fingers didn't wanna cooperate. A weird, droning sound filled my ear.
"Did I break it?" I asked, worried. I shoved the phone at Mary.
"That's the dial tone, you idiot," Mary said.
I dialed the number on Paul's paper very slowly. I put the phone to my ear again. This time I knew I'd done something wrong, because an old lady answered and started yelling at me.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I stammered.
"Give me that," Mary said.
She took the phone from me and blew raspberries into the receiver. I noticed, incredulous, that she was still wearing her tongue ring.
"Ah, hell," Mary said. She pressed a button on the phone and gave it back to me. "You're like a caveman with a can opener."
"I don't like phones," I said through my teeth, embarrassed. "If you gotta talk to someone, you should talk to them in person."
"Okay," Mary said. "You know this country is almost four million square miles, right?"
"Yeah, but I can't count that high."
On the park bench opposite ours an old lady fed ducks from a bag of breadcrumbs. She smiled at me in a way that made me feel ignorant. I looked away. I looked at Mary while she fished a pen out of Rosa's purse, crossing off addresses on her foster home list. Something occurred to me.
"You dropped everything for me," I said. "You didn't even need to be asked."
Mary shared her soda can with me. I took a sip. It tasted too sweet for me, which is weird, because I practically live on candy.
"You're my little brother, stupid," Mary said.
It wasn't just that, I thought, staring at my knees. I wouldn't have known what to do without her. I wouldn't even have known where to begin. Probably I'd be out of my mind right now at the hopelessness of it all.
"No, you aren't," Mary said.
I picked my head up. "Huh?"
Mary crushed her soda can. "You were thinking you're powerless," she said. "You're wrong."
Mary and I, we used to share the same mind.
"Let's go," Mary said. "Plenty more houses where the last four came from."
"Plenty more" turned out to be five, but visiting them didn't bring us any luck. By the time we were finished the sun was starting to look chilly and dim. Mary told me we'd better call it a day. I didn't want to call it a day. The longer we went without knowing where Sky was, the more that could have happened to him. I had to be there to make sure he was safe.
"Relax," Mary said. She drove us back to the reservation. "Tomorrow's a new day."
"Yeah," I said, panicked. "Another chance for him to get even farther away from us."
"Would you stop?" Mary said. "Foster care's not as fast as you think it is. We're talking about the government, for starters. The only time they move fast is when they're taking money from you."
I fumed all throughout dinner that night, and even when I went to sleep. But Mary was as good as her word. The next morning she dressed in her pants suit again and dragged me out of bed. I stumbled groggily after her when we left the house. This time Sky's spirit guide followed us.
"You can't bring a freaking coywolf into the city," Mary said.
"He doesn't have to leave the car," I argued. "He wants to come. Why can't he come?"
"Blech," Mary said. "Whatever."
We went to the parking lot; I opened the car doors. The coywolf climbed onto the back seat like he'd heard our entire conversation. I sat beside him, Mary locking the SUV. I sucked on licorice while we drove away.
"Wanna listen to roundies?" Mary asked.
I pulled the licorice out of my mouth. "We don't got a drum."
"No, but we've got a tape deck. Why do you talk like that?" Mary asked. "Nobody in our family talks like that."
"Talks like what?" I asked.
Mary pushed a button on the car dashboard. I'll Be Back Someday came pounding out of the speakers.
"Can't beat Indian music," Mary said happily.
"Since when do you like Indian music?" I asked sourly. "You don't even like our community."
Mary looked at me in the rear-view mirror. "I didn't leave because I hate being an Indian," Mary said.
I stared her down dubiously.
"Or because I didn't care about you anymore," Mary said.
I looked away.
Mary sighed. "I'd love to be an Indian," Mary said. "Just not the Indian I already am."
"Which Indian is that?" I asked.
"The one who helped her father kill seven different women," Mary said.
"You didn't do that," I said.
"I know, I know," Mary said.
I said, "You don't know."
"Maybe we need therapy," Mary said. "The both of us."
"Therapy is for taipo'o," I argued.
Mary drove us down a boulevard lined with palm trees. I put my hands on the coywolf's head, my fingers ruffling his floppy ears. I felt Sky in my palm lines. He felt far away. He felt so calm, I didn't even think he was worried. I guessed one of us had to be calm. I wondered if Sky could feel me, too. Did he know I was thinking about him? He had to have, right? I mean, I couldn't remember not thinking about him.
"Here we go," Mary said.
She parked the car outside a fat brick building. I left one of the windows open for the coywolf. I followed Mary inside the building, but I was apprehensive. Cold gray staircases rose out of slimy gray floors, gray mailboxes bolted on the walls. Our shoes slapped on the marble steps, dusty windows leering at us.
"How'd ya like to live in a place like this?" Mary quipped.
"It's too far off the ground," I said. I didn't think I was afraid of heights. It's just that the farther you are away from nature, the worse your soul hurts for it.
"Maybe I should leave you here," Mary snickered.
"Stop it," I complained
"Oh, Uriel," Mary keened. "I've found you a forever home."
"Stop it!"
An apartment door swung open. A woman in a gray bathrobe stared blearily at us, scratching her behind.
"Ma'am," Mary said. She rolled back her shoulders, lengthening the dip in her spine. Suddenly she was thirty again. "I'm Josephine Tucker with CPS. This is my ward--"
"Fine," the woman said, smacking her gums. "I'll take him."
"Sure you will," Mary said. "Anyway, ICWA guidelines have tightened, so we're looking for a house that already has a Native American in it. If--"
"Had a Native kid," the woman said. "Don't anymore."
Mary smiled like the freaking Cheshire Cat. "What tribe?"
"Don't know," the woman said. "Whichever one's off 89."
Our tribe was off 89. Before I could lose my head, Mary went on, "What school did he attend while he was with you?"
The bathrobe lady gave Mary a strange look. "John J."
Mary reached inside the apartment and pulled the door shut. I stared; and then I burst out laughing. Mary grabbed my hand. We descended the chilly staircase two steps at a time.
"I don't know how you pull this shi
t out of your ass," I said.
"Was that admiration?" Mary asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
"No," I lied.
The coywolf's tail thumped like crazy when we climbed back in the car. I stroked the crown of his head and he licked my hand, his tongue like sandpaper. The tires groaned on the asphalt when Mary gunned the engine. I shot forward in my seat, the streets blurring past us.
"You're gonna kill us!" I yelled.
"Only the good die young!" Mary reassured me.
Maybe ten minutes later the car squealed to a stop outside a tall building wrapped in black iron gates. I guessed that this was Sky's old school, but it didn't look anything like a school. For one, there were storefronts squished on either side of it. I put my head out the window and caught a whiff of raw meat. Maybe we ought to have bought a snack for the coywolf. Did spirit guides need to eat? Judging by the tongue hanging out of his mouth, probably.
"You don't need to come inside for this," Mary said. She unbuckled her seatbelt.
"Wait," I said. "It's Sunday. No one's gonna be in school, Mary."
"That's what you think," Mary retorted. "Haven't you ever heard of adult ESL classes?"
"Adult what?" I asked.
Mary snorted at me. Mary pushed her door open.
"M'gonna buy food for the dog," I decided.
"Let me give you some money first, genius," Mary said.
Mary went into the school and I went into the butcher's store. I sneezed at the frost on the glass counters, sawdust on the floor. I bought a package of sliced turkey off a guy with thick hands and carried it back into the car. As soon as I wrapped that thing the coywolf gobbled it up. I sat in the seat behind the driver's, fumbling with the phone Paul had given me. Remembering myself, I dug Sky's number out of my pocket; but before I could try dialing it again, Mary had returned.
"Did you find out where Sky is?" I asked.
Mary slapped her door shut. "His school records got transferred to Coconino County. Northern Arizona's a pretty good bet."
I settled back in my seat, thinking. "What county are we in now?"
"Maricopa."
"How far away's Coconino?"
"It's a big county, Raf."
"Yeah, but how far?"
"Best case, about three hours."
"They couldn't give you the exact city?" I asked.