Shifting (17 page)

“Okay, my little Magpie, are you ready to fly?” Bridger asked, straddling his bike beside me.

“No,” I answered. “I need a drink of water first.” He looked at the water bottle fastened to the frame of my bike, and then at me like I was stalling. “I'm out of water. Wanna share yours before I keel over from dehydration?”

I climbed off my bike and Bridger climbed off his. He held the straw end of his Camelbak out to me and I took a tentative step forward, practically stepping on his toes to put it in my mouth. I drew in a deep swallow of the warm water, letting it wet my burning throat, and sighed. And then I realized the air between us felt charged with electricity. Being so close to Bridger made me aware of every inch of my body, and every inch of his. I stared at his neck and could see the pulse pounding beneath his skin.

Since our little chat on graduation night, he hadn't flirted with me. At all. Hadn't touched me once. I wondered if he could feel my reaction to him, so I looked up at his close face. The breath caught in my throat.

He was staring down at me, frowning, his entire body still as stone. Something in his eyes told me he knew exactly what I was feeling.

Behind us, Kat's voice interrupted the silence. “Are you guys still up here?” She gasped.

He yanked the rubber straw out of my mouth and turned away. “Yeah. We're about to start down,” Bridger called. “So move out of the way.”

Kat rode into the clearing at the top of the hill, her face red and slick with sweat.

“Time for you to fly, Magpie,” Bridger said, winking at me.

I took a deep, unsteady breath. “Fine. But if I fall off my bike and get hurt, you're going to carry me back to the car.”
And that means you'll have to touch me.

“Fair enough.” He climbed onto his bike and looked at me. “What are you waiting for? Go!”

I got off to a wobbly start, struggling to clip my shoes into the pedals. Once they were in, I pointed my bike down and started to bump along the path. It was hard not to cling to the brakes, but I made myself let go and careened down the trail. Trees and foliage began to blur past, wind whipped my face, and tears streamed from my eyes. My delighted scream echoed far and wide, my hair blew out behind me, and for a glorious moment I
could
imagine how a bird must feel gliding through the air.

Then I was at the bottom, smiling, pulse racing, and ecstatic. I had done it, and while it was a little bumpier than I imagine flying would be, it had been positively exhilarating.

Bridger came to a stop beside me, his dancing eyes studying my face.

Kat zoomed past. “I'll meet you at the car,” she called.

“So, what do you think of flying?” Bridger asked.

“Awesome.”

A satisfied grin spread over his face. “I knew you'd like it. Let's go.”

He pedaled hard, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. My legs were so rubbery I could hardly snap my feet back into the bike pedals. But somehow I managed and began to follow.

The winding trail was narrow, shaded by tall pines and fringed with yellow and purple wildflowers and waist-high weeds, making it impossible to see far. Birds chirped and chipmunks chattered at me.

The farther I rode, the thinner the trees got, the sparser the weeds. I rounded a sharp bend and had my first clear view of the trail. Bridger and Kat were out of sight—probably already at the SUV. I forced my exhausted legs to continue pedaling when something niggled at my senses—I seemed to catch a whiff of an unusual odor. Or maybe I heard something, or saw a flash of color out of the corner of my eye. I wasn't sure what it was, but … something had changed.

I glanced at the sky, thinking a storm must be blowing in, but it was clear as glass. And then I realized. The only sounds disturbing the woods were my tires scrunching along the ground and my panting.

I jerked the brakes and jolted to a stop. Popping my foot out of the pedal, I placed it on the ground and looked around. I knew this feeling. When I lived with the Simmses and Mr. Simms had been drinking too much, he'd get violent. When he stomped down the hall to my bedroom, I hid under the bed because I knew he was searching for someone to hurt. The way I felt right now, Mr. Simms might as well have been stomping down the hall to get me.

Breathing turned to a chore, the dense air hardly fitting through my constricting windpipe. I needed to hide. Or run.

I put my foot back on the pedal and pushed as hard as I could. Well, I didn't clip the sole of the shoe into the stupid clipless pedal all the way. Ten feet down the trail I lost control of my bike and totally wiped out. In a daze I stared up at the sky. A big black bird circled overhead, hunting something. Struggling to get free of the bike, I saw a gleam of black in the woods and froze. Someone was there, watching. Me. I was being watched.

My brain decided to freak out, filling with thoughts of the man who'd been looking for me at the Navajo Mexican. Maybe he'd found me.…

In a flash, I was back on my bike and pedaling as fast as I could, my butt not once touching the bike seat. There was a disturbance in the woods behind me, the crash and snap of something big careening through the underbrush. Peering over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of gold fur. I pedaled harder.

Bridger's SUV came into view, two bikes beside it. I'd never been so glad to see a big, expensive hunk of metal. I rode up to it, gasping for breath, but Bridger and Kat weren't there.

Close by, a stick snapped and I flinched, staring at the woods. Bridger emerged from the trees, shirt in hand, pulling a twig out of his midnight hair. Kat followed, eyes wide, face pale.

Bridger looked at me and frowned. “Are you all right, Maggie? Your knee's bleeding.”

I pressed my lips together.

“You're scared. What happened?” he asked. Kat stared at me with rapt attention.

I took a ragged breath. “I thought I saw something in the woods.”

Bridger studied me, dark eyes calculating. “But you didn't?” I shrugged. I had seen something. I just didn't know exactly what.

“We need to hurry and get out of here. It's almost ten o'clock. Mrs. Carpenter's going to wonder where we are,” he said.

I nodded and looked around. The forest was noisy again, alive with birds and chipmunks. With the appearance of Bridger and Kat, everything seemed to go back to normal.

23

A week later, Bridger talked me into playing Ultimate at the city park, whatever the heck that meant. I was just happy to be doing something without his little sister.

We got out of his car and I followed him across the grass to a group of guys, half of them white, half dark skinned, with Kat in their midst. So much for doing something without her.

My heart dropped when I realized these big, tall, muscular
men
were Bridger's “friends” that I was going to play Ultimate with. I was tiny beside them. I hoped there was no physical contact in Ultimate, because if there was I'd be toast.

“Hey, guys,” Bridger called a greeting. “I made good on my promise and found one more player.” He nodded at me as if I were some sort of a peace offering. “Guys, meet Maggie. Maggie, meet the guys.”

Their eyes went from my face, to my fancy black tank top, to my hand-me-down designer jeans, to my running shoes. More than one of them started to complain. I couldn't blame them. They all wore sporty exercise clothes—even Kat, dressed in teeny skintight shorts and a matching tank top, with gym socks pulled up to her knees. One guy, the oldest, even had on a knee brace.

“Um, Bridger?” I said, tugging on his T-shirt. He was wearing workout clothes, too.

“I know you're nervous. Just trust me,” Bridger whispered, never taking his eyes from the “guys.” He looked awfully pleased with himself, like the cat that swallowed the canary. “So,” he called out. “Whose team are Maggie and I on? Walt's or Alex's?”

Two men, one white, one dark, stepped out of the group and eyed each other, then eyed Bridger and me, sizing me up all over again. They looked at each other once more, and the dark guy started talking.

“With those two added, we can't play dark on light. Unless—” He looked at Bridger. “You wanna be on my team, Atay? You've got enough color in your skin to still look Navajo.”

“I don't care whose team I'm on, but Maggie has to be on my team. She and I work well together,” Bridger said. Kat barked a laugh and rolled her eyes.

“But we dark boys are skins.” The guy looked me over once more and then took his T-shirt off, exposing washboard abs and smooth golden skin. “Unless she's taking her shirt off, you two'll have to stick with Walt and Kat.”

I glared at the guy and folded my arms over my chest. He laughed and looked at Bridger. “
Ne-zhoni
,” he said. Bridger shrugged. “Walt, give me one of your pasty white guys.”

“All right, you're on my team. I'm Walt. That's Alex.” The blond man with the knee brace held out his hand. I pulled my eyes away from Alex's abs and shook Walt's hand. Before Walt could say another word, Bridger grabbed the back of my tank top and towed me out of hearing distance from the other players.

“Maggie, whatever you do, don't tell them you've never played before, because I said I wouldn't bring a beginner. Now, when the game starts, you run to the end zone as fast as you can and catch the Frisbee I'm going to throw to you. You got that? As soon as you catch it, you freeze—you can't move, because that is the rule. If you aren't in the end zone, throw the Frisbee to Kat or one of the guys with a shirt on. Any of them will do. You got that?” He looked at me expectantly.

I nodded. “Sure. Run to end zone, catch Frisbee, throw Frisbee if I'm not in end zone. Got it.” I didn't mention my hands were shaking and I wasn't sure if I could catch a Frisbee, since I had never tried.

“You'll do fine,” he assured me. “Otherwise, I wouldn't have brought you.”

We walked back over to the guys and lined up for a game of Ultimate. My team, the ones wearing shirts, had the Frisbee, so when the game started I sprinted, easily clearing the defense of Alex's shirtless golden-skinned team and headed toward the end zone. Before I was quite there, I looked over my shoulder in time to see Bridger fling a fluorescent pink Frisbee clear from the other end of the field. It soared through the air, high over the heads of the running defense, and floated down right into my hands. I happened to be standing in the end zone.

We played for a good half hour, with me scoring several points because of my speed, but that was about all I did—run to the end zone, catch the Frisbee.

The more I watched the other players, though, the more I understood the game. I started using my speed not only to run to the end zone for points, but also to intercept the Frisbee when the other team had it. Alex would have the Frisbee and throw it toward one of his guys, but I would sprint as fast as I could and snatch it out of the air a split second before Alex's guy could catch it. Boy, did that make me a popular player. My weakness was throwing. Half the time when I intercepted the Frisbee, I gave it right back to the other team. “Learn to aim,” Kat would snap. But when my throws were successful, all the guys on my team would whoop and holler and high-five me.

Bridger wasn't the least bit surprised. He'd just nod and have a look of pure satisfaction in his eyes when they met mine.

After my team had won three games to none, it was four twenty-five—five minutes till work. I was sweaty and panting, and my hair, I am sure, needed to be redone before I set foot into the Navajo Mexican.

“I've got to go to work,” I told Walt, who was ready to play again even though he was winded and soaked with sweat.

“Oh! Come on, Mag! Play one more!” some of the guys called.

“Another time, guys. I've got to go, too,” Bridger said. He pulled his T-shirt off and wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow. My eyes latched onto his body. His shoulders were like airplane wings, his arms corded with long, lean muscle. Some of the guys bumped their knuckles against his and said, “Nice game, Atay.” Then he came and stood beside me, pulling his shirt back on.

“So, Mag, where do you work?” Walt asked. I don't know where the nickname Mag had come from, but I didn't mind it.

“She works at a little restaurant, serving people,” Kat said, as if it were the most demeaning job in the world.

“Wait a sec! Are you
Magdalena
?” Walt asked incredulously.

“Yeah. How do you know me?”

“I'm Maria's husband,” he said, smiling. “She's away on maternity leave. You're covering for her?”

“Wow, small world,” I said. I reached up and unbound my hair, shaking it out.

“Small town,” Walt corrected. “Well, come and play again, Mag. We play every Tuesday and Thursday at three thirty.”

“Yeah, come back again, Mag. Anytime,” Alex said, his eyes holding mine.

“Thanks, Alex.” He grinned as he watched me comb my fingers through my hair. A hand came down on my shoulder and I jumped. Alex scowled and stopped staring. Kat, standing beside Alex, shook her head the tiniest bit.

I glanced at Bridger in surprise. He was smiling at Alex, but his eyes were hard as rock.

“Thanks for the invite, Alex. I'd like to play again,” I replied, feeling sorry for the guy. I turned to go, shrugging Bridger's hand away.

Bridger called his good-byes to the guys, told Kat he'd be back in five minutes, and caught up with me.

“What was that about?” I asked as I pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail.

“Huh?” He didn't look at me—just stared straight ahead.

“You don't like Alex looking at me.”

He turned toward me, making eye contact. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “So, how do you know them and why do they call you Atay?”

“Atay's a nickname. Alex is my second cousin. He and the other Navajo guys just moved to town for the summer, from the Navajo reservation. The guys I told you about the day after graduation, who I hang out with when you're at work. They're doing some work for my dad.”

“What kind of work? Because, no offense, but they look like they do hard labor.”

“Don't judge a person by the color of his skin,” Bridger snapped.

I looked at him, confused. “What are you? Oh. I get it. I didn't mean they looked like they do hard labor because they're dark skinned. I mean, Alex is way beautiful.” Bridger barked a laugh and my cheeks started to burn. “What I meant is they're ripped—all of them. It looks like they spend a lot of time in the gym. Or mowing lawns. Or herding cattle or something.”

“They're doing some security jobs for my dad,” he explained.

“Even Walt?”

“No, just the Navajo boys. Walt's a banker. He handles my dad's money.”

“He looks like a banker. So, what are you doing tonight? Hanging with your cousin?”

“Stuff for my dad, actually.”

“But I thought he was in France.”

His dark brows drew together. “That's the problem. He's not here, so when things go wrong, I'm the one who gets to sort out the local crap.”

“Is everything okay? You look worried.”

The expression melted from his face, replaced with nonchalance. “It's just family stuff. No big deal.” He smiled. “You're a fast runner. I can't believe you picked up on Ultimate so easily. Katie felt pretty annoyed that you're better than her.” He reached his hand toward me, as if to pat me on the back or ruffle my hair, but it stopped halfway and dropped back to his side.

“Yeah. Alex seemed pretty surprised, too.”

Bridger's lips thinned the slightest bit. If I hadn't been looking for his reaction, I would have missed it.

“Well, I'll see you after work,” I said. We'd arrived at the restaurant. Bridger stared down at me, his eyes questioning, his face darkly serious. The breath caught in my throat and I couldn't move. He blinked and ran a hand through his dark hair, and the moment was gone.

“I'm coming in for dinner. Tell Yana and Penney that I want you to be my server.”

“That drives them nuts, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I can feel their jealousy,” he said.

“So, why don't you let us take turns serving you?”

He leaned closer to me. “Because, Maggie, the food seems to taste better when you bring it to me. You are what draws me here.” I felt myself blush. He shrugged and got that serious look in his eyes again. “I'll see ya later.” With that he was gone. I watched him walk away and felt empty, like there was something he forgot to tell me, like he was leaving our good-bye undone. I shook my head to clear it and walked into work.

I rearranged my schedule with José so that I didn't work the lunch shift on Tuesday or Thursday. Bridger, Kat, and I met up with the guys on those afternoons and played Ultimate. Now Bridger and I together were like a secret weapon. We just worked well as a two-person team—we were like chips and salsa, or bacon and eggs. He had amazingly good eyesight and aim, and I had speed and agility. We were unbeatable. Alex and Walt fought over whose team we were going to be on every time we played, since Bridger insisted he and I play on the same team. And while I still caught Alex checking me out when Bridger wasn't looking, he never hit on me.

I felt so human around Bridger I nearly forgot how different I was.

I spent every waking moment with Bridger, Kat, Naalyehe, or Mrs. Carpenter, and I didn't have the time or need to turn into an animal, not with Bridger driving me home from work every night.

Because I stopped changing, I stayed alive longer than I should have.

And because of this bitter irony, Bridger was the one who ended up shooting me.