Gives Light(Gives Light Series) (23 page)

I gave him a thumbs up anyway.

"Yeah, that's great," Rafael said.  "Never would've guessed it."

Sarcasm, like many things, flew over Aubrey's head.

"There's the little lady now," said Gabriel, leaning against the side of his SUV.

I thought "little lady" was an apt description for Annie.  Compared to the four of us, she was so small; and somehow, although I couldn't figure out how, her bob cut made her look even smaller.  She came toward us in a water-blue sundress, a beaded white bag hanging from her shoulder.

I was worried about Annie's mental state.  She had smiled a little more these past few days, but altogether I could tell she was still incredibly distraught over the news of her mom's death.

She surveyed the four of us and sighed.

"Granddad warned me I don't spend enough time with girls my age," she said gravely.  "But then I told him I'd be spending the day with Hopskotch, Nancy, and Mopey.  'Oh,' he said, 'well, two out of three's not bad.' "

Aubrey choked on nothing.  I crammed my fist against my mouth to keep from laughing too visibly.  Rafael scowled.  I don't know why.  I thought it was obvious he wasn't a part of the two out of three.

"Colorful man, that Gus," Gabriel said amicably.  "You kids had better get in the car.  The last thing I need is any of you catching sun poisoning on my watch."

"I call shotgun," Rafael said as Gabriel slid the doors open.

"You most certainly do not," Annie said, and climbed into the front before Rafael could object.  He did, however, manage to shoot her a dark look in the side mirror.

It was a monster of a car, an eight-seater, black, with a gray leather interior.  I wound up sitting in the second row wedged between Rafael and Aubrey.  Aubrey found positively everything about the SUV enthralling, especially when Gabriel turned the radio on and shifted the car into reverse.  Rafael, by contrast, squirmed a lot.  It was like he'd never been inside a car before--although I knew that couldn't be true if he knew what "shotgun" was.  I looked sideways at Rafael, curiously.  "Uncle Gabe usually picks up my school stuff for me," he said.  "Don't know why he's got to make it a big outing all of a sudden."

I thought I knew why.  By his own admission, Rafael didn't have many friends.  Gabriel must have been pretty happy that Rafael had finally acquired some.

"I don't get your grandpa," Rafael told Annie, leaning forward and around the back of her seat.  "Those nicknames don't make any sense.  I've never seen Aubrey play hopskotch a day in his life.  And I don't mope.  I brood."

"You tell 'em, Raf," Gabriel said.

"Well, I have played hopskotch before, actually," Aubrey said fairly.  "With my niece."

I noticed Rafael hadn't said anything about my being called Nancy.  I gave him a dull look, feigning annoyance.  He shrugged at me.

"Seatbelts on!" Gabriel bellowed.

I watched the pine trees blur past us as the SUV squealed across gravel.  Aubrey let out a silent cheer.  The Bee Gees were shrieking over the oldies station in their seamless falsetto.  Gabriel and Annie sang along together, Annie tapping her fingers against the dashboard.  "I hate those guys," Rafael said sourly.  ("Oh, you hate everything," Annie returned evenly.)  The oldies station held a special place in my heart:  It was Dad's favorite station.  Dad was coming home soon.  My heart leapt and tossed tortuously.  I couldn't wait for Dad to meet Annie.  She caught my gaze in the rear-view mirror and smiled at me.  Her smile was light; but I thought her eyes were a little sad.

"Really, though," said Aubrey, when the song had ended, "don't you think there should be a radio station for Plains music?"

"There's a Navajo radio station," Gabriel said.  "Of course, I never have any idea what the heck they're saying."

He leaned over and fiddled with the dial, but landed on a country station instead.

"Ah, well," he said cheerfully.

"Do you know," Annie said.  "That's a wonderful idea, Aubrey."  Aubrey's face lit up like a Christmas tree.  I reached sideways and ruffled his hair with a cheeky grin.  Annie went on.  "I wonder whether we could bring it up with the council?  Would the tribal fund cover something like that?"

"Probably," Rafael said.  "If we doubled up during crafts month.  'All Shoshone music, all the time,' " he deadpanned.

At the first stop light, Gabriel reached beneath his seat and started handing us textbooks.

"Got them from Caias just this morning," Gabriel said.  "You've only got two this year.  Lucky, huh?"

He handed me my copies and I gave him a grateful smile.  Both books looked rather battered.  The first of the textbooks was titled
Mathematics, Grade 11
.  Yuck.  The second wasn't much better--
A Comprehensive History of the First People.
 

"Oh, good, math!" Aubrey said.  Annie gave him a very weird look.  I didn't blame her.  All the same, I couldn't believe that there were only two course books for the entire school year.  Rafael must have noticed me looking between them with bemusement, because he said, "Mr. Red Clay's got a brain like a library.  He teaches the other stuff from memory."

Red Clay, I thought.  Like Mrs. Red Clay?

"Yeah, he's her son.  You can tell, too, 'cause neither one's got a sense of humor."

"You're one to talk, aren't you?" Annie said.

Daddy Won't Sell the Farm was playing on the radio.  I wanted very badly to sing along.  I whistled instead.

Both Rafael and Aubrey jumped in their seats--simultaneously, which I found ridiculously funny.  They looked at me like they weren't quite sure what they were looking at.  I'd been just as surprised, too, and elated, eleven years ago, when I first found out that whistling doesn't actually have anything to do with your vocal cords.  I laughed at the bewildered looks on their faces--but soundlessly, as always; unlike whistling, your laugh starts in your voicebox.  Rafael shot me a dark look, offended.  I consoled him with a pat on the shoulder.

Gabriel drove us into Paldones and parked outside a drugstore. 

"Alright," Gabriel said.  We climbed out of the car and he read to us from a list.  "Five notebooks, gloves, bandages, antiseptic, salve, and any writing implement of your choice."  He pulled a face.  "I'm guessing no one's told him you can buy first aid kits these days.  Old-fashioned gent, that Caias..."

What would we possibly need with first aid kits?  I looked to Rafael--because he usually knew what was on my mind before I tried to articulate it.

"He has us go into the woods sometimes," Rafael said.  "Science stuff."

"Oh, good, science!" Aubrey said.

Gabriel waited outside while the four of us went into the drugstore. 

Watching Annie, Aubrey, and Rafael pick out which supplies they wanted was actually very interesting.  Notebooks, for example.  Annie picked the ones with the most paper while Aubrey spent a minor eternity debating spiral vs. marble.  Rafael just bought the cheapest kind available so he could buy candy with his spare cash.  I don't think I had any consumer quirks as drastic as those three.  I know I wouldn't buy anything that came in the color red.  I'd read an article once about how colors like blue and soft green calmed you down while bright red and orange were more likely to make you agitated.  I didn't want to jinx myself by writing in a red notebook.  My grades already tended toward the lousy end of the spectrum.

Gabriel took us out for lunch shortly after our shopping excursion.  The diner had checkered booths and yellow wallpaper and swinging kitchen doors that made me think of a saloon.  It wasn't at all like the diners that Dad took me to on Sundays, but that only served to remind me how imminent his return was; how elated I was, how terrified.  Annie ordered for the both of us, a fish sandwich for her and scrambled eggs for me.  We sat signing to one another about Aubrey's radio idea, how Annie knew a pair of sisters who could play the double-skin drum.  (
Those twins?
I signed.  "That's right, Holly and Daisy, they're in the same year as us.")  Rafael and his uncle argued about whether Rafael should be allowed to eat ice cream for lunch.  I was prepared to vote in Rafael's favor, but Gabriel cut the dispute short and ordered chicken salad for the both of them while Aubrey whispered, apologetically, that his farm grew better mushrooms than this place imported.

"Listen to this," Rafael said listlessly.  He read from his history textbook.  " 'A Shoshone woman was considered a commodity and married as soon as she experienced menarche.' "  He glanced meaningfully between Annie and Aubrey.  "You two had better get a move on."

Both Annie and Aubrey turned pink.

Probably the most amusing part of the afternoon was that the waitress kept eyeing Gabriel and self-consciously touching the obvious blush on her neck.  I swear I saw her slip him her phone number before we left.

We played Rock, Paper, Scissors to figure out who got the passenger seat for the return trip.  Aubrey won, surprising all of us.  I sat between Annie and Rafael and stuffed my receipt in my pocket.  Each time someone laughed, each time Annie elbowed me or Rafael prodded me or Aubrey asked me, wheedling slightly, to take his side in an argument, I had this feeling of floating on air, miles and miles above the clouds.  Each laugh was like a song I'd always wanted to learn without ever realizing I didn't already know it.  Each laugh was a new experience on its own, and yet a familiar one, and I felt that I should be thanking someone for it, but I didn't know who.

Annie, Aubrey, and Rafael played a license plate game on the ride home.  I kept score in one of my new notebooks.  Annie had the keenest, fastest eyes and won by a wide margin.  It's pretty amazing how many out of state cars you find zooming down the parkway on any given day.  I guess they're all on the way to the Grand Canyon.

Rafael, though--his attention span could never be counted on to remain consistent.  He stopped playing the license plate game about five minutes in and unwrapped his store-bought licorice.  He fidgeted in his seat, and I knew exactly what was going through his mind:  He wanted to get out of the car and stretch his legs.  He tried to open the window; frustrated, he couldn't figure out the controls.  But then he seemed to realize how wide the SUV was, and he came to the rational conclusion that he'd have more leg room if he lay sideways.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and flopped sideways across my lap, eyes closed, chewing on his licorice.

There was something to be said about Rafael.  His very nature was tempestuous and brash; but when he calmed down, you couldn't help but feel at peace with him.  Or maybe that was only true of me.  He looked so comical with the licorice hanging from his mouth; and yet the iron earring resting on his shoulder was elegant and understated.  Elegant wasn't normally a word I'd use for Rafael, who was wild and untamed, impulsive as the changing wind.  His leg rested against the door, tattered jeans torn, his head on my thighs.  He opened one eye and offered me a piece of his licorice, wet and a little gross, but I declined with a flattered wave of my hand.  He rolled his shoulders, grabbed my hand mid-wave, like an afterthought, and held it comfortably against his chest.  I laughed lightly and felt it in my heart, fluttering; my stomach fluttering with butterflies; my knuckles stroking the curve of his face.

I realized no one was playing the license plate game anymore.  Gabriel and Aubrey were trying to find the Navajo radio station.  Annie was watching Rafael and me.

She met my eyes, smiled sweetly, and gazed out the window, the expression on her face unreadable.

I think that was the first time it occurred to me that whatever I felt for Rafael couldn't stay private forever.

I think that scared me more than the prospect of Dad coming home.

23

Two-Spirit

Annie asked me one afternoon if I'd like to help her weave a basket.  I said,
Sure
, although I didn't really know what basket weaving entailed.

We were resting on the grass behind her house, Joseph playing on the rope swing Grandpa Little Hawk had tied around an oak tree.  I got up and brushed grit and grass off of my jeans.  I assumed we were heading inside.  And Annie did go inside; but she returned presently with two pocket knives and handed one to me.  She began a trek down the lane to the woods.  I had no option but to follow her.

You're not taking me to the bears, are you?
I joked.  I was still pretty paranoid about those.

"Don't be silly," Annie said.  "We've got to collect willow, haven't we?"

Since I happen to be the leading expert
, I signed, and grinned.

"Ha, ha," Annie said humorlessly.

For a while, we followed the trail to the lake; then Annie veered us off to a sharp right.  I guessed we were headed southeast, though I couldn't be sure.  Directions weren't my strong point.  I heard the hissing of water and thought:  That can't be right.  The brook and the starfield are north, not south.  But in due time, we came upon a creek filled with clear, cold water, wrapped around the base of a drooping willow tree.  On the other side of the creek was a natural rock cave.

A grotto, I thought, amazed.

I'd seen a significant amount of beauty since coming to the reservation, but my immediate thought was that the grotto took the cake.  The whole area was pleasantly shaded by forest overgrowth, maybe ten degrees cooler than the rest of the reservation.   I heard glass clinking with the faintest breeze and saw windchimes hanging from the tendrils of the weeping willow, handblown glass butterflies painted in shades of blue and purple and green.  Around the mouth of the cave were painted stars in soft pastels and silver and gold.  Initially, I didn't move, entranced by the water, the rocks, the boughs of the aging trees.