of juice-and-crackering
herself and a menagerie of stuffed animals, while Helen and I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and loaded them into
a backpack.
Dad came downstairs before we were finished, greeted Helen pleasantly if sleepily, and got his eggs out of the refrigerator.
“Are you girls off on a picnic?” he asked.
“I thought we’d take the bikes the length of the island,” I told him.
“Fine—fine. Sounds like a good plan. I’ll see the two of you at dinner, then.” His mind was already slipping away to focus
on his world of aliens.
I slid my arms through the straps of the pack, hoisted it to my shoulders, and led Helen down to the storage shed where we
kept our bicycles. I let her have my ten-speed and took Neal’s smaller bike for myself, and we set off.
We covered the island that day, from Cliff House at the northern point to the vacated summer cottages at the southern end.
The sun burned down on our heads, and I could practically see new freckles popping out on Helen’s face and arms as we pedaled
along. We stopped several times to pick wild grapes and some last remaining blueberries, and for Helen to examine fishnets
drying in the sun. We ate our lunch in a hollow between the dunes on the east side of the island and, leaving our shoes with
the bikes, walked along the beach at the water’s edge where the icy surf lapped up to attack our toes.
Later we lay sprawled in the sand and talked, and I began to discover what it was like to have a nonjudgmental friend to confide
in, someone with whom I could be myself, and not just “Gordon Ahearn’s girlfriend.”
We talked about school, our families, and—of course—boys. I told Helen how shy and unattractive I had felt when I was younger,
and how much my life had changed when Gordon started dating me.
Helen told me about a boy named Luis Nez.
“That was the name he used at school,” she said. “I wasn’t allowed to know his Navajo name. The Navajos are a private people.
Luis was my boyfriend, but there was so much he couldn’t share with me.” She paused, and then raised her hand to touch the
tiny turquoise carving at her throat. “When I left, he gave me this.”
“What is it?” I asked, hoisting myself up on one elbow so as to see better.
“A fetish—an object that’s believed to have magical power,” Helen said. “It’s an eagle, predator of the air. When Luis found
out we were coming east by plane, he carved it for me. Turquoise is the Navajo good-luck stone. A turquoise eagle protects
the wearer against evil spirits from the skies.”
“It must have been hard for you to move away,” I said.
“Yeah, it was. But I know it was for the best. I was starting to care too much, and it never could’ve worked out. It was fun
living on the reservation when I was little. The differences didn’t matter so much then. Later—well, do you remember that
first day we ate lunch together, and I said to you that there are cliques everywhere?”
“I remember,” I said.
“It’s even worse when cliques are all about culture. You can’t break through.”
“You didn’t have girlfriends?”
“Not ones I could talk to.”
“I’ve never had friends like that either,” I said, realizing it fully for the first time. Darlene and Mary Beth and Natalie
were surface friends. They had permitted me to become part of their world because of Gordon, but if and when Gordon decided
he was tired of me, I would be out of it again.
“Nat’s had her claws out for Gordon since before I started going out with him,” I told Helen. “Just a few weeks ago she threw
a party. I was sick and couldn’t go, and the minute my back was turned—” And there I was, spilling out the whole story—Nat
and Gordon on the beach—the “couple of kisses” Gordon had confessed to—and then, because it followed naturally and was so
much a part of my thoughts these days, I told her about the girl they had
herself and a menagerie of stuffed animals, while Helen and I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and loaded them into
a backpack.
Dad came downstairs before we were finished, greeted Helen pleasantly if sleepily, and got his eggs out of the refrigerator.
“Are you girls off on a picnic?” he asked.
“I thought we’d take the bikes the length of the island,” I told him.
“Fine—fine. Sounds like a good plan. I’ll see the two of you at dinner, then.” His mind was already slipping away to focus
on his world of aliens.
I slid my arms through the straps of the pack, hoisted it to my shoulders, and led Helen down to the storage shed where we
kept our bicycles. I let her have my ten-speed and took Neal’s smaller bike for myself, and we set off.
We covered the island that day, from Cliff House at the northern point to the vacated summer cottages at the southern end.
The sun burned down on our heads, and I could practically see new freckles popping out on Helen’s face and arms as we pedaled
along. We stopped several times to pick wild grapes and some last remaining blueberries, and for Helen to examine fishnets
drying in the sun. We ate our lunch in a hollow between the dunes on the east side of the island and, leaving our shoes with
the bikes, walked along the beach at the water’s edge where the icy surf lapped up to attack our toes.
Later we lay sprawled in the sand and talked, and I began to discover what it was like to have a nonjudgmental friend to confide
in, someone with whom I could be myself, and not just “Gordon Ahearn’s girlfriend.”
We talked about school, our families, and—of course—boys. I told Helen how shy and unattractive I had felt when I was younger,
and how much my life had changed when Gordon started dating me.
Helen told me about a boy named Luis Nez.
“That was the name he used at school,” she said. “I wasn’t allowed to know his Navajo name. The Navajos are a private people.
Luis was my boyfriend, but there was so much he couldn’t share with me.” She paused, and then raised her hand to touch the
tiny turquoise carving at her throat. “When I left, he gave me this.”
“What is it?” I asked, hoisting myself up on one elbow so as to see better.
“A fetish—an object that’s believed to have magical power,” Helen said. “It’s an eagle, predator of the air. When Luis found
out we were coming east by plane, he carved it for me. Turquoise is the Navajo good-luck stone. A turquoise eagle protects
the wearer against evil spirits from the skies.”
“It must have been hard for you to move away,” I said.
“Yeah, it was. But I know it was for the best. I was starting to care too much, and it never could’ve worked out. It was fun
living on the reservation when I was little. The differences didn’t matter so much then. Later—well, do you remember that
first day we ate lunch together, and I said to you that there are cliques everywhere?”
“I remember,” I said.
“It’s even worse when cliques are all about culture. You can’t break through.”
“You didn’t have girlfriends?”
“Not ones I could talk to.”
“I’ve never had friends like that either,” I said, realizing it fully for the first time. Darlene and Mary Beth and Natalie
were surface friends. They had permitted me to become part of their world because of Gordon, but if and when Gordon decided
he was tired of me, I would be out of it again.
“Nat’s had her claws out for Gordon since before I started going out with him,” I told Helen. “Just a few weeks ago she threw
a party. I was sick and couldn’t go, and the minute my back was turned—” And there I was, spilling out the whole story—Nat
and Gordon on the beach—the “couple of kisses” Gordon had confessed to—and then, because it followed naturally and was so
much a part of my thoughts these days, I told her about the girl they had
Similar Books
