Winter Counts(58)
He could have his time.
21
The following days passed quickly, and I felt a charge in the air, almost a vibration, as things began to happen. As he’d been instructed, Nathan began to spend more time with the group of kids that took drugs. He said they mainly smoked weed, but they’d sometimes dabble in harder stuff. His arrest had apparently gained him some cred, because he was immediately accepted back into the circle of chemical abusers. Once we had talking circles; now Native kids had circles of a different kind. He told me he’d been able to avoid using any substances and escape suspicion by drinking beers with the group instead of taking drugs.
I asked Nathan about the heroin dealers and whether he’d seen them again. He said they were still around but keeping their heads down. Apparently they’d wised up and stopped selling most of their dope on school grounds. I wondered if this would affect the sting, given that the cops had emphasized arresting them on school property. Once the dealers trusted you, Nathan said, they’d deliver to you if you called them. He’d heard that they’d usually meet buyers in the parking lot of the supermarket, where there were always plenty of cars.
Nathan said the banger called Loco was still around, and word was that you didn’t want to fuck with him. Stories were circulating that he’d use a baseball bat on your legs or carve a double X on your face with a knife if you crossed him. It was tough to know how much of this was truth and how much was teenage gossip. One thing that’d been confirmed: Loco had a scar on his face like a crooked lightning bolt, so he’d be easy to identify.
ONE AFTERNOON I came back to the house and found Marie sitting at our small table. I could tell something was wrong. She was twisting the beaded cuff on her wrist around and around.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Oh, nothing really. I got a letter from the University of South Dakota med school. They rejected me.”
“Damn. That really sucks. They say why?”
She sighed. “No, just a standard form letter. ‘We received many strong application packages,’ blah, blah, blah. I’d heard they might be biased against people who graduated from tribal colleges like Sinte. You know, the teachers supposedly aren’t as good, the standards are lower, whatever. My classmates told me the rumors, but I didn’t want to believe it. Maybe I should have gone to Dartmouth like my parents wanted.” She got up and threw the letter in the trash. “I don’t know, maybe they didn’t reject me because I went to Sinte. Maybe they rejected me because I’m not smart enough.”
I went over and put my hand on her shoulder. “Bullshit on that. You are the smartest person around here. You got accepted to that med school in New Mexico, with a scholarship, too. I don’t know why they didn’t take you, but it wasn’t because of that. The hell with them.”
“You’re sweet,” she said. “Not sure why I feel so bad. It’s not like being a doctor is my lifelong dream. It’s just that there’s so much misery sometimes. I want to help, that’s all.” She sniffed. “Well, like my grandma used to tell me, ceye sni yo, stop your crying.”
“So what does this mean?” I asked. “Are you going to accept at the med school in Albuquerque?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
“Don’t know yet. I’ve been trying not to think about it, because going to USD would have solved so many problems. Now I’ve got to sit down and figure it out.” She poured herself a glass of wine. “How about if we put this stuff on hold?”
“Sounds good.”
“Oh yeah, Velma called. She offered to take me out to the Depot later to cheer me up. Drink a few beers, bitch about stuff.” She scratched my back with her nail. Her touch was like the tail of a comet. “When’s Nathan getting home?”
“Not for a few hours.”
“Excellent,” she said, taking my arm and leading me away.
LATER THAT EVENING, Velma came by to pick up Marie. I hadn’t seen her for a few years, and if anything, her look had gotten even more extreme. Electric-blue hair, various piercings, knuckle tattoos. She was wearing a cutoff jean jacket with numerous patches sewn on: WARPONY, DEFEND THE SACRED, ARM THE HOMELESS. Marie had told me that she played bass in a local band, the Rez Dawgs, when she wasn’t working at the dollar store.
“Hey V, long time no see!” She enveloped me in a bear hug. “You look good, dude! Why don’t you join us tonight? Raise some hell, yeah?”
“Thanks,” I said, “you two go out and have fun. Nathan and I’ll watch a movie.”
“All right, bro. Your loss.”
Marie gave me a hug, and they took off for the bar. I settled in with an old TV show, something about parallel universes and rogue scientists. The story didn’t make sense to me, so I laid back and listened to the characters speak while I stared at the ceiling, the voices on the television mixing with the sound of Nathan’s music coming from his room.
I JUMPED UP at the sound of my phone buzzing. The screen showed it was 12:30 a.m.
“Hey, what are you doing? You’re not asleep, are you? Sorry! You there?”
It was Marie. I could hear music in the background, so they were likely still at the Depot. “What’s going on? You guys okay?”
“We’re fine! You won’t believe it, but we won at pool. Velma and me. We beat these guys, they thought they were so good. But they scratched on the eight ball. Too bad, right?”