More Than Good Enough(11)

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying music?” she asked. “I mean, you got into that special school and everything.”

I flinched. “It’s not that special.”

When she said “special,” it sounded like a school for people with mental problems. Then again, I had problems she didn’t know about.

I took out the Sharpie and wrote a string of digits on her hand. “I’m at my dad’s place now. This is the number, in case you want to talk about film stuff. Is your phone the same?”

“You probably don’t even remember it.”

“Hell yes I do.”

“Prove it.”

I recited the numbers. Perfectly.

“Wow, Trent. That was kind of impressive. I better give you my cell. Don’t call the house, okay? My mom’s been kind of weird lately.”

“Yeah? She used to be so cool.”

“My mom?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong with Mama Dukes?” I asked.

Pippa looked away. “She’s just … ”

“It’s cool. Didn’t mean to get up in your business.” I stuck out my arm for her number.

The Sharpie kept dying, so she pressed extra hard. “Sorry,” she said, as if it were her fault. “This pen is untrustworthy.”

I scanned the hallway. “What are you going to do now?”

“Go to my next class, I guess. God, that sounds lame.”

“Sure you don’t want to go exploring?” I asked, walking backward toward the auditorium doors.

“Maybe next time. There’s a quiz on Technology of the Future that I’m destined to fail.”

“In the future, you mean?”

She laughed. “Something like that.”

“Okay. Catch you later.” I lunged down the sidewalk, probably scaring everyone trying to get stoned in the parking lot.

I didn’t feel like going to class. Not after my amazing conversation with Pippa. School was almost tolerable once everybody headed back to their pre-assigned rooms like good little robots. I spent the rest of the afternoon power-napping in the Yeti. I kept the windows rolled down so I didn’t suffocate to death. That is, until I was rudely awakened.

“What’s the problem here?”

A face—sunburned and buzzcut—hovered above me. The campus security dude was talking about the dangers of sleeping in a car. Obviously, this was the most exciting moment of his entire week.

“Dentist appointment,” I muttered. I almost ran the guy over, backing out of the lot. Not that it would’ve been a total tragedy.

The security dude was mega pissed now, scribbling on his memo pad (my license plate, no doubt). He circled the lot in his creaky little golf cart. What a freaking joke. How was he supposed to protect us from terrorists? He didn’t even carry a gun.

Nothing to do now except drive back to the Rez. It took forever to get there from school. My dad was probably hanging around the house, like usual. Just thinking about him made my stomach burn. Then I realized I’d had nothing to eat all day, not counting the Gummi Bears that I’d “borrowed” from some random girl this morning. She only gave me the yellow ones.

As I contemplated my fast food options (McRib is back!), my cell phone buzzed inside the glove box. I slowed for a red light, then reached over and dug it out.

Yo. I usually don’t do mass mailings like this but … I’ve been working on some sick new beats.

If you haven’t downloaded my tracks online,

you’ve been sleeping hard …

Nothing like a mass mailing (in this case, for Michelle’s lame-ass DJ set at Churchill’s on Sunday) to make you feel special. Why did she bother inviting me—along with three hundred of her closest friends? We weren’t friends. So what did that make us?

I needed to find out.

The Rez was home. Too bad it didn’t feel like it.

When I’d left Mom’s house, I didn’t expect to miss things like clean laundry and a regular feeding schedule. I just wanted to get away from her. Now I was starting to regret it. Sometimes I wanted to jump in an airboat and take off (as far as possible).

A couple days after I moved out here, I was watching the boats out on the water. Dad said it was for a funeral. He didn’t go into much explanation.

“What happens next?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “Your body goes back to the earth.”

“And then what? Do you believe in heaven and all that?”

“You move on to the spirit world.”

“Even if you do bad stuff?”

“We move on. The animals move on. That’s the way it goes.”

So I guess Dad didn’t believe in hell.

One time back in Kendall, I stayed awake all night, playing the Xbox. I was so freaking exhausted I basically passed out. I would’ve stayed in that semi-comatose state, but Dad woke me up. He said it was dangerous, falling asleep at dusk. Your spirit might leave your body and never return.

“Bullshit.” I’d tugged the blanket over my head, but couldn’t fall back to sleep.

Today, Dad was the one in danger of losing his spirit. He was conked out, facedown on the floor as if he’d tried to do a push-up and just stayed that way. I shook him hard, and he finally snapped to life. The whole situation made me feel awkward. I started blabbing about school, the film I was going to make. Dad was all into it.