"It didn't work," said the auburn-haired boy at the end of the bench. "We're still living on a reservation, aren't we? And we've got our ancestors' given names as surnames, as Mr. Red Clay said."
"Nah," Rafael said, "I think it worked. We wear jeans and speak English."
"You're cheating!" Zeke said. "You read all this stuff last year."
"You wanna say that again?"
"You wanna hit me again?"
I waved my arms. I didn't know how else to get them to shut up.
"Everything alright here?" asked Mr. Red Clay, approaching our table.
The wiry-haired boy lifted his head from the table at last. Had he been sleeping all this time? His eyes were a blue-green, his face dusted with freckles. He looked exotic, in a way, three different ethnicities rolled in one.
"Rafael threatened Zeke," he said.
I gazed at him in disbelief. I shook my head.
"He most certainly did not!" Annie burst out at the same time.
"Mr. Sleeping Fox," said Mr. Red Clay, "how old are you?"
"Seventeen," said the wiry-haired boy.
"Then I suggest you act it. Turn in your summer book reports, please."
I hadn't actually written a summer book report, but Rafael had put my name at the top of his. He opened his folder, took out a thick leaflet, and handed it to Mr. Red Clay. I touched Rafael's arm as Mr. Red Clay collected the papers and moved on to the twelfth graders. The look on Rafael's face was scalding, but I knew it wasn't meant for me. I smiled at him. His anger visibly melted away. He closed his hand over mine and gripped it, his thumb running over my knuckles.
It was about noon when the school day ended. If this was indicative of a regular school day, I thought, I might finally become a fan of the education system. I went home for lunch, then out to the grotto. I didn't know whether that coywolf pup was still hanging around; I left sandwiches for him underneath the willow tree, just in case.
Annie, Rafael, and I went to Aubrey's house in the afternoon for homework. I really liked Aubrey's house, an old-fashioned farm manor with dark walls and ceiling fans. His bedroom window overlooked the cultivated fields out back, the leafy shoots of the autumn crops already poking out of the ground. Aubrey played bluegrass on his portable radio and we sat beneath the sloping ceiling while we read sleep-inducing history passages, Annie on the bed, Aubrey on the windowsill, Rafael and me on the floor.
Happily, not all of Mr. Red Clay's assignments were lengthy chapters from the history book or inundating math problems. Sometimes he took us out to the woods, where he showed us the plants that were centuries old and the newer ones that the European settlers had brought over, and the hybrids born when the two interbred. He took us into the badlands and we sampled the tent rocks to find out how long ago they had formed. He showed us the hidden seams in the gorges where our ancestors had mined coal and Zeke Owns Forty swore he found a dinosaur fossil, but it was only the remains of a big-horned sheep.
Sometimes, after school, Annie and Aubrey and I went back to Rafael's house to study, and Rosa, sweet-faced and eager, came in and out of his room with peanut crackers and cactus fruit jelly for us to eat. Quietly, Rafael sulked. I guess he thought she was treating him like a baby. I thought she was just being nice.
"I wanna get out of here," Rafael said one afternoon.
Rafael was the kind of guy who lost his temper if you tried to keep him indoors for too long. At the very least, he needed to be near a window. His room didn't have any windows; just layers and layers of sketches taped to unpainted walls. It had embarrassed me when I'd first seen my own face reflected on those walls.
Annie dog-eared her page and closed her book. "Shall we go to the grotto, then?"
Rafael's reply was cut short by the sound of smashing glass. All four of us looked toward the door, alarmed. Rafael looked at me, rare fear on his face.
"The hell was that?"
We got up and went out into the narrow adjoining hallway. From there, we went into the sitting room, its ceiling rafters exposed, its grand window facing the blue-gray badlands to the north.
A picture frame had fallen off of the tall mantelpiece; it lay on the floor, broken, in glass shards. Rosa, round-faced, stood by the front door in her hospital scrubs. It looked as though she had just come home from work. Rafael's uncle Gabriel was in the kitchen doorway, light brown hair braided, tan arms folded, eyebrows raised politely.
"My bad," said a girl standing by the hearth, a cigarette hanging from her mouth.
I had seen this girl before--not in person, but in a handful of Rafael's drawings. She was about twenty, or maybe a little younger, her thick hair teased, her mouth and eyelids shaded in heavy, hyper-violet, day-old makeup. She was a lot skinnier than Rafael's drawings had depicted--deathly skinny--a shadow of herself. She wore black netting on her arms and a black corset in the place of a shirt. Just looking at her made me feel uncomfortable, and kind of itchy.
Rosa scurried to the closet and came back with a broom and dustpan. Gabriel put his hand on her shoulder; she halted. "Mary will clean it," Gabriel said. He sounded perfectly friendly, not at all as though his stray niece had just destroyed one of his treasured keepsakes. "Won't you, Mary?"
Mary puffed rings of smoke absently from the end of her cigarette. I wasn't sure whether she had heard Gabriel: Her hazel eyes were glazed.
"Put it out, Mary," Gabriel said.
Mary crushed her cigarette against the mantel.
The only way I can describe Rafael's face at that moment is to compare it to a fish out of water. He looked absolutely bewildered, like he couldn't figure out why the air was so dry, but his bewilderment belied what I took to be cautious hope. I remembered seeing a photograph of a younger Rafael with his arms around his big sister, matching smiles on their faces. Rafael had barely talked about Mary over the summer; now, I realized how acutely he must have missed her.
Rosa swept the scattered glass into her dustpan. Gabriel rubbed his face with a broad hand.
"We should probably get going," Annie said. Expertly, she wrapped her hand around Aubrey's arm.
Mary glanced briefly in my direction. She double-took and stared at me.
"Have a good day," Rosa called shyly after Annie and Aubrey.
I made to follow the two of them out the door. Mary stopped me in my tracks with a broad grin.
"Chrissy's kid!" she said. "Wow! I can't believe you're here... Oh, crap. Did you know my dad offed your mom?"
"Shut up in front of him," Rafael growled.
Mary shrugged. She searched her pockets for something, maybe for a second cigarette.
"Rafael," Gabriel said, as cordial as could be. "Mary's going to be living with us again. Isn't that nice?"
"Why's that?" Rafael asked scathingly. "Didn't she become a rock star?"
These weren't the loving brother and sister I had glimpsed in Rafael's favorite photograph.
I took Rafael's arm. Startled, he turned to me. I nodded toward the door. He shook his head and held my shoulder.
It's fine
, I told him with a placating smile.
I'll see you later.
I don't think he wanted me to leave; but he nodded, his jaw squared, and let me go.
I slung my bookbag over my shoulder and waved goodbye to the Gives Light family. I closed the door behind me when I left the house.
I breathed deeply in the cooling summer air. My legs carried me east to the woods--and from there, to the grotto.
I sat by the creek and set my backpack on the grass at my side. Annie and Aubrey rose from the mouth of the cave and sat next to me.
"Mary Gives Light," Aubrey said uncomfortably. "I thought she had left the reservation for good. I remember the time she dropped Stuart's cat down the water well, poor thing cried for who-knows-how-long before Reverend Silver Wolf found him..."
"She looks ill," Annie said. "I don't doubt she's fallen in with a bad crowd."
I didn't think it was right to talk about Rafael's sister behind his back--or hers, for that matter. I gave the two of them a small smile. Annie smiled back. I think she got the hint.
"A coyote!" Aubrey said suddenly. "Or--no, is it? I thought all the coyotes lived in the badlands?"
I followed his gaze to the opposite side of the creek. Soundlessly, I laughed. The coywolf pup was back, his snout to the ground, his bushy tail wagging fiercely.
Half and half
, I signed to Aubrey. He looked puzzled. I unzipped my dingy green backpack and pulled out a stack of cream cheese and cherry sandwiches. The moment I unwrapped them, the pup came bounding over the cold creek.
"Is that a coywolf?" Annie asked. "Where's his mother, then?"
I shrugged. I laid the sandwiches on the grass. The pup attacked them with zeal.
"Ah, Skylar," Aubrey said gravely, "you'd better be careful, you don't want him to get too attached to humans. I don't know about wolf hybrids, but coyotes can become rather temperamental in their adult years."
The pup had a round and healthy little tummy; it made my heart sing to note that I couldn't count his ribs anymore. I crouched in the grass, arms around my knees, and watched him eat. He finished his sandwiches in messy gulps and drew closer, curious, looking for more food. He sniffed my hand and I held it out for him, flat, palm out. He gave my fingers a hopeful lick, his tongue like sandpaper. Sorry, little guy, I thought. I knew where I could get him some young ferns, but any fatter and he wouldn't be able to jump the creek anymore.
Apparently, he forgave me. He let out the characteristic yip that all coywolves use to greet one another, and then he charged around me in energized circles. Just watching him made me dizzy. I couldn't stop laughing. I toppled onto my back, gripping my stomach, and he nudged my neck, concerned, with his wet nose. I waved my hand to let him know I was okay. Satisfied, he trotted off to find something more interesting to do.
Annie and Aubrey went home before me. I stayed by the creek and the pup kept running back to me, delivering small trinkets of pebbles and forest twigs. I applauded with each present, inspiring him to yip and run victory laps around the willow tree. It was during his fourth victory lap that Rafael came walking between the beech trees and sat next to me, moody.
I touched his knee.
"Doesn't matter," he muttered.
I thought it mattered.
The pup came back to us and dropped a willow shoot at my side. I reached out and stroked him between the ears. Rafael glanced our way. He blinked rapidly behind his blue-wire eyeglasses.
"Are you keeping him?"
I'd never heard of anyone keeping a pet coywolf before, but it wasn't like the pup had anyone else to take care of him. He crept toward Rafael, sniffing inquisitively. Rafael held out his hand. The pup decided he was safe and rewarded him with a lick. I watched as Rafael struggled to smother his smile.
I'm calling him Balto
, I signed.
"What the hell is a Balto?"
I looked at Rafael reproachfully. I'd forgotten he didn't watch movies.
All that running and jumping must have sapped Balto's energy. He dug himself a little spot by the creek, curled up in the fresh soil, and went to sleep. Rafael had brought a notebook and a pencil with him and sat sketching Balto's likeness. The sun dimmed overhead; Rafael put his pencil down when he couldn't see his sketchlines anymore.
"I'm sorry," he blurted out.
I smiled patiently. I had no idea what he was apologizing about.
"About...Mary," he specified, mumbling. "The crap she said to you."
I waved my hand. I didn't want him to worry about it.
"She doesn't think about people's feelings," he went on. "She's like a careless wildfire. She--" He faltered. "She and Dad were a lot alike."
I reached sideways until I found Rafael's hand. I held it.
"She was a daddy's girl. Until he... Dad's shadow followed us everywhere, but it hurt her the most. None of the girls wanted to be friends with her. She's not like me; she needs to be liked. She used to lash out all the time, claw up people's arms. Grounding her wasn't any good; she'd just claw up her own arms. Cut her nails and she'd bite herself instead. She always told me she had to leave the reservation or die. So...what? Did she come back to die?"
Maybe, I thought, she came back because she missed her family.
"Yeah, right," Rafael said. "Anyway, I'm sorry. Nobody should talk like that to you."
I gave Rafael a meaningful look. Why was he so loath to believe people cared about him? I knew I'd miss him tremendously if I woke up tomorrow and he was gone. And I hadn't known him for anywhere near as long as his sister had.
Rafael returned my gaze uncertainly. He had all the vulnerability about his face of a little boy who'd just been told Daddy wasn't coming home. His parents had left him, each in their own way. I wasn't leaving. He saw that.
He broke into a broad smile, the most impossibly beautiful smile, like sunlight at the end of a long storm, like a warm hearth on a desert night.