Eyes Ever to the Sky (A Sci Fi Romance) (The Sky Trilogy) (8 page)

“
Girls!” he said smiling, but then he shook his head apologetically. “Or should I say, women? I was just schooling these unlearned folk on the aphorisms of Emerson and Thoreau. Care to join?”

The dreadlock-wearing boy across from Travis shrugged. “Kid takes one lit class and he thinks he’s f—in Shakespeare.”

Travis took a drag and shook his head. “Not Shakespeare, my friend.” He blew out the smoke. “Thoreau. Walden Pond.” He paused. “No?”

The boy shrugged.

“Bah.” Travis waved a dismissive hand at him. 

“
That
Civil Disobedience
guy?” Cece asked.

“
Yes!” Travis said, whirling to her. “That government is best that governs least.” Excitement flared in his red-rimmed eyes.

“
Didn’t Martin Luther King study that essay when he was leading his non-violent protests?” So, she did remember something from American Lit, even though she only scraped together a C.

“
True,” Travis said, taking another drag from his joint. He held it out to Cece, who shook her head. “M.L.K. got a lot of his ideas from Thoreau cause he was such a genius. That dude knew all this material garbage didn’t matter. All that matters,” said Travis, taking a step closer to Cece, his eyes sparking, “is freedom, liberty and equality. And the simple life.” Travis gazed out over the dark field. “Doesn’t get more simple than this.”

He was smiling and standing so close Cece could see the firelight dancing in his eyes. His look was expectant, almost delirious, as if they two were the only people in on some monumental secret. For a moment she wondered if he was going to reach out and take her hand. She had no idea what she’d do if he did.

Headlights sliced through the darkness. Every head turned toward the car that parked in the gravel lot at the field's edge. Shaun stood up, his arms flexing.
Whoever it is
, Cece thought,
they better be ready to take on an angry, drunk Shaun.

The headlights clicked off. Two car doors slammed. The gravel crunched as two shadows made their way over to the fire. Cece could make out two teenagers, a boy and a girl. Was the girl wearing high heels?

Finally, the firelight broke over their faces and Michelle walked into the clearing with a boy by her side.  Remembering what had Fer said about Michelle's family falling on hard times, Cece surveyed Michelle's appearance. At the onset she was dressed to the nines: six-inch heals, designer jeans, sequined tank top. But as she looked closer, Cece realized all that glittered was not gold. The Coach bag that Michelle clutched under her arm looked worn, and hadn't she seen that tank top at Walmart? She and Michelle might not be on an even playing field, but maybe it was stacked more evenly than she'd thought. 

Michelle clomped over, teetering slightly on the uneven ground, looking displeased at everyone.

The short blond boy next to her strode over and bumped fists with Shaun. Shaun handed him a dripping beer from a cooler. The two walked off into the field while Michelle stared at the fire, looking bored.

“
Hey, let’s go say hi,” Travis said, stepping around the fire toward Michelle. Cece didn't follow.

Fer slid up beside Cece. “Shaun and his drug buddies.” Fer nodded her chin to where her brother and Michelle’s boyfriend talked. “Gage is Michelle’s boy toy for the moment. Gage likes to buy weed from my brother. Didn’t think he’d invite them tonight, though.” Fer shot a dirty look across the fire pit at Michelle. “Seeing her donkey face really kills my buzz.”

Cece threw her arm around Fer and led her over to another pocket of conversation. The best thing to do was pretend Michelle had never arrived. The beer was pumping through her blood stream and her shoulders had relaxed one notch. One of Travis’s friends flipped out a deck of cards and began a card trick. Cece picked a card, any card, and watched as the boy tried desperately to find it. When he flubbed
it
it and dropped the stack on the ground, Cece giggled and helped him pick them up. Then she noticed Travis leading Michelle over.

“See?” he said, pointing. “Told you they were here.”

“
Yes, you did.” She glanced at Cece and her eyes tracked after her boyfriend. “What was your name again?”

“
Cecelia,” she said impatiently. She’d already repeated it five times at work. “You know, like the song.” 

Michelle shrugged. “I guess we listen to different music.” She spun away from Cece and racked her eyes over Fer like she’d smelled something bad. “Fer, what an
outfit
. Where did you get it?”

Fer narrowed her eyes, a charge coming off her skin as she strode forward. “Not all of us have to hide how bad we feel behind our designer jeans.”

Cece put a hand on Fer's arm. Drunk Fer equaled dangerous Fer. If Michelle wasn't careful she'd have a throat full of teeth in a minute. “Hey, Fer, come over here and look at the, uh, fire.” Fer glared over her shoulder, but let Cece drag her away. Cece glanced back as they found two lawn chairs and sat. Michelle had hooked arms with Travis and was saying, “Tell me again, what did your professor say about Emerson?”

Cece heard Travis launch into his spiel. She thought they wouldn’t be seeing him again for a while, but sooner than five minutes later Travis was back at her side, offering her another beer. Cece smiled, but shook her head. “I’m gonna head home,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Slinging ice cream can really kill ya.”

“Don’t I know it,” Travis said, putting down his beer. “Let me walk you.”

Cece scanned his face—kind, sincere and expectant. But, she didn’t want him anywhere near that dump she called home.

“It’s okay. I’m only seven blocks that way.” She pointed.

Fer slid up beside her. “Let im walk you.” Her voice was slurred. “Frickin rapists and murders out this time a night.”

Cece shot Fer a look, but her eyes were too red and glazed for her to notice. She turned to Travis. “Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

As she walked around the fire, the grass tickling her calves, she caught a glimpse of Michelle. In the darkness it was hard to tell, but was that jealousy on her face? As she and Travis hit the gravel and crunched toward home, she could still feel the burn of Michelle’s eyes on the back of her head.

Travis walked next to her down the cracked pavement streets, kicking at loose stones and humming. The trailers were quiet now. The night insets buzzed along with the rickety A.C. units propped in people's windows. They strolled passed the Dominick's place with its yard gnomes, pink flamingos and dangling wind chimes. Travis touched one with his finger as they passed and the metal tinkled softly. Somewhere a dog howled. A car drove down the main road, bumping the deep boom of some hip hop song. Then it was quiet, except for the scuff of their shoes on the pavement.

“
I can take it from here,” she said. They passed Fer's trailer, a double wide with the rusty carport and fake green Astro-Turfed porch stoop. Fer's mom's Chrysler was gone. Probably sleeping at her boyfriend's tonight.

Travis shook his head. “Don't like to see a girl walk home alone.” His eyes flicked over to her. “Not that it's some male chauvinist thing. Not that I think women can't take care of themselves.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, putting him out of his misery. The moonlight highlighted the gold in his blond hair. He chewed on strands of his soul patch with his top teeth as he walked. His eyes were red, stoner's eyes, but still as kind and endearing as ever. She had no idea how she felt about Travis walking quietly beside her. His arm brushed so close her skin tingled.

“
So, you think Michelle is cool?” Cece asked, as they passed Ms. Howard's trailer. The ceramic Virgin Mary prayed inside her concrete shelter.

Travis shrugged his slim shoulders. “She's alright.” He kicked a stone and it skittered into a flowerbed. “I feel bad for her. Her dad's real strict. And her boyfriend’s a douche.”

Cece looked up at Travis. “That's the first negative thing I've ever heard you say.”

Travis frowned. “Sorry.”

Cece shook her head. “Don't be. You see the best in everyone, so Michelle's boyfriend must really be a douche.”

Travis smiled. “He is.”

They turned the corner and her trailer came into view. Her heart stopped. Her living room light was on. Mama must've found her bed empty.

Mama would kill her.

CHAPTER ELEVE
N — LITTLE MACK

Wednesday 12:34 a.m.

When the whiskey was gone, Little Mack let the glass bottle clink to the pavement. He watched it roll back and forth on its side, his bleary eyes separating it into two bottles, then three, then back to one. His head lolled onto the soiled pile of clothes and his eyes rolled up to the stars.

Sleeping in the alley wasn't all that bad in the summer. Bugs sometimes bit him up and gangs of teenagers liked to give him a hard time, but right now the breeze felt just fine on his hot skin, the stars were out and his belly sloshed with liquid happiness. Been a while since he'd had a belly full of whiskey. Too long.

Little Mack watched the stars blur and sharpen above. Vaguely he noted Cassiopeia, a constellation his mother used to point to on those early mornings at the bus stop when she’d stand with him on the crisp snow, their breath puffing in tandem. An ache widened in his chest, but he squashed it. That was a million years ago and his mother was in the cemetery eight blocks away. He visited her last week and fell asleep on her grave.

Little Mack patted his distended tummy. The streets had been busy today and he'd made a good haul. Cross-legged with his sunglasses on, his “Every little bit helps. God bless you,” sign tucked in his lap, he'd made twenty dollars. The Black Velvet whiskey was his reward for the bumper crop of loose change. Sure, he'd feel like hell tomorrow, but tonight he felt alright.

“Alright, alright,
alllriiight
,” he mumbled, smiling. He got a whiff of his own breath and winced. Next twenty he got he’d buy a tooth brush and some tooth paste.  Wouldn’t matter tonight. No smoochin or coochin happening at the back of Chang’s Chinese Buffet, where everything smelled like old grease and egg rolls.

Mmm. Egg rolls.

Noise from the back of the alley drew his attention. Sometimes cops came and whacked at him with their nightsticks. Sometimes asshole teenagers with red eyes and shaved heads tried to kick his ribs and step on his fingers while he slept. One time he'd awoken to one of those slim dicks peeing on the back of his head.

In the dark, his eyes scanned the alleyway beyond. Nothing but garbage bins, scattered trash and cracked pavement. Above, fire escapes clung to the sides of buildings. From this angle they looked like stairways to heaven. He started humming that tune under his breath and let his eyes slip back up to the stars.

Another noise, scraping on the pavement this time. He stopped humming. Was something moving back behind that trash bin? Little Mack squinted, but couldn't stop the landscape from sliding back and forth. He lay his head back down. Too hard to keep it upright.

Little Mack closed his eyes. He was about to drift off when glass fell and shattered behind him. He pulled his eyes open, fear creeping up his numb limbs. He could hear slow, steady breathing. A dog? He pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Shoo,” he said, his voice wavering. The earth tilted wildly and Little Mack felt his stomach revolt, but his fear wouldn’t let him lay back down. Something was in the alley with him. And it sounded big.

“
Goddamn dogs,” he muttered, pulling himself to his feet, but the ground seemed to heave and he crashed back to the pavement. His heart pounded in his ears. He could smell something rancid and feral. His hand trembled as he pulled himself upright again. Was he hallucinating? Sometimes when the drink took hold he saw things. Could be the Black Velvet talkin—  

Two blood-red eyes stared from the shadows, hollowing him out. He scooted back, spooked. What had eyes like that? An animal? A monster? A deep low growl rolled out of the slash of shadow beside the brick wall.

“Dear Jesus!” Little Mack squealed. He tried to stand and fell. Panic choking him, he crawled away like a madman, scampering on his hands and knees. Pain punctured his palm, glass maybe, but he ignored it. Headlights cut through the night ahead. If only he could make it to the road. His legs were stiff husks. Still he loped through the trash-strewn alley like a rabid dog.

What had that newspaper article said? The one he'd found fluttering in the alley and used as a pillow? A little boy was attacked by a wild animal in the woods that surrounded Goshten Subdivision, just north of here. The boy had survived, but they'd found a mangled cat. Police warned of a coyote or even a black bear. Little Mack shivered as he dragged himself toward the road. Was the thing behind him a black bear? He chanced a look over his shoulder.

The thing behind him broke into a run.

A little squeal tore out of Little Mack's throat. Faster, faster he crawled. The end of the alley seemed miles off. His heart thudded into his throat. He'd die before he made it. His heart would give out, or— A car zoomed past twenty feet away. He was almost there.