I ran to Seth’s silver pickup and threw open the passenger door before the truck had a chance to stop.
Seth slammed the brake, and the truck lurched forward. Under the dim glow of the dome light, his grayish-blue eyes narrowed as he glared at me. “What are you, my mother?”
Friday night was definitely off to a bad start.
I was already fighting with my best friend, and I hadn’t even jumped in his truck yet.
I shook my head and climbed in anyway, slamming the door. My heart was racing a million miles a minute. “Just blow,” I told Seth, sinking lower into my seat and not bothering with the seat belt.
“Okay, man. Whatever.” Seth shifted the gear. “We’re outta here.”
Just hearing those words lightened my shoulders.
The tires screeched across our circular driveway and then straightened toward Pecos Road. The front end almost took out a saguaro near the mailbox next to the street, but Seth didn’t lift his foot from the accelerator for a second. He always drove crazy that way. Crazy Seth. Even crazier than me.
Seth didn’t bother asking me what was wrong either. He already knew. “Where to?”
“Anywhere.” I pulled my baseball cap lower on my head.
“Fisher is having a ripper. His parents are in Hawaii.” Seth’s eyebrows wiggled.
The night was improving exponentially.
“Some of the girls from pom team were invited, too.” He shot me a sideways glance. “Maybe even Gwyneth...” His voice trailed off in a grin.
The corner of my mouth turned up in a careful smile.
Gwyneth Riordan had been hot for me since the eighth grade. Don’t ask me why, but I’d have had to have been blind not to notice and crazy not to want her. I was a little of both. We usually hooked up on the weekends and had become a couple by default.
“Beer?” I breathed easier the farther we got from my street.
“Some.” Seth’s head tilted toward the backseat. I turned and spied a brown bag. He could always swipe a six-pack from his stepdad’s stash unnoticed. “Where’s yours?”
“My dad was home,” I grumbled, remembering that my original plans for tomorrow night were now officially deep-sixed. “I couldn’t chance it. But I need something stronger.”
Seth pulled a hand over his chin, considering. “Like what?” he said carefully.
“Anything.”
“You got cheddar?” It really wasn’t a question.
I tapped the pocket to my jean jacket that held the four fifties from Dad. He expected me to buy a birthday present for Mom’s party tomorrow night. “Plenty,” I said, staring into the darkness. All I could see was my angry reflection in the passenger window. It glowed an eerie green from the dashboard lights. I opened the window and leaned my arm along the frame, inhaling a gush of fresh air. Warm wind billowed into the front seat, almost knocking off my cap. Black as oil, the Gila River Indian Reservation stretched across the right side of the four-lane road, with Pecos Road the clear dividing line. Even when I squinted, I couldn’t see a single spec of light anywhere—not a porch light, headlight, even a firefly. It was like squinting at the edge of the world. When I was a kid, I’d wondered if anyone lived beyond Pecos Road. Sometimes I still did.
I’d been on the reservation twice in my entire life. One time with Seth to buy beer and cigarettes with our fake IDs at a gas station near Casa Grande, the other time on a school field trip in the fourth grade to spend the day with reservation kids. It had felt like the bus had driven us into the middle of the desert. Tumbleweeds had bounced across the road like lost brown beach balls. Where are all the houses? I remembered wondering. The parks? The malls? The people? When we’d finally arrived at their school, which was one big musty-smelling room with desks pushed to the edges, we’d sat on the floor in a circle, our legs crossed, and listened to an old man. He must have been at least one thousand years old, with braids that stretched down to his knees and skin with more wrinkles and folds than I could count. He’d talked as softly as a whisper, telling us crazy stories about coyotes and stars. I’d sort of half listened, peering around the room at the reservation kids, who’d numbered half as many as the ones in my class. With jet-black hair and eyes to match, they’d all looked alike and fidgeted just as uncomfortably as we had—all except one girl with ponytails high above her ears. She’d sat across from me. When our gazes had met, her eyes had sparkled like marbles. She’d smiled at me, revealing a gap between her two front teeth, but the grin had lasted only an instant. The girl with the shiny ponytails had never given me a chance to smile back.