Sojourner (8 page)

“So…why do you have Walker’s jacket?  Are you two seeing each other?”

I grit my teeth and speed up my steps which is futile because he does the same thing and he has much longer legs which means faster strides.  Then he stops in front of me, cutting off my path.

“Are you?”

“No!” I snap, trying to push past him.  “We’re just friends.”  I manage to find a hole and slip around him.  I walk even faster.

“I keep telling you that I could be a good friend, Lizzie.  A very good friend.”  He stands in the middle of the hallway, waiting.

“Try Gail,” I call.  “I hear she’s definitely in the market for that kind of friend.” Unsure if he’ll come running after me, I pick up the pace even more, relieved that the exit looms ahead.  Since he hasn’t caught up to me by the time I slip outside, I take a relieved breath and slow down, suddenly enchanted by the blanket of snow which has fallen during the day.  I have been unaware of anything except Griffin’s all-consuming attention and Lev’s curious absence.  The flakes still fall, fat globs of pristine white so thick it appears to be raining.  The flakes tumble in my hair and across my face.  Although I have both coats, I shrug into Lev’s, taking comfort in the way it swallows me.  I wish he were here. 

  Ahead, in the blanket of thick whiteness, I see kids throwing packed snowballs at each other and running around.  The parking lot is no less a madhouse.  More snowballs flying there.  Around me, kids rush toward the whiteness, planning to join in the snowball fights.  Griffin floats past and tugs my sleeve.

“You want to play?” he asks, rushing for the snow.  Both Matt and Gail flank him on either side. As usual, Gail is watching, gauging Griffin’s interest.  She is the first to pick up snow and crush it into a tight ball that she zings at Griffin.  He’s fast, I realize, as he jumps to the side and waves a chiding finger at her.

“You’ve done it now!”  Griffin reaches down and grabs a double handful of snow that he packs into his own large ball.  Two seconds later he throws it at her.  Gail sees it coming and turns her back just as the snow strikes.  She squeals loudly and clumps another ball.

A white pack comes flying at me, striking my chest.  I jump.  Looking down, I realize from Matt’s wicked grin, he has thrown it.  I brush the snow away.

“Hey, why don’t you leave it.  It looks good on you.  Besides, you don’t see this kind of snow in Texas.  You might as well enjoy it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  My hands are cold, and I shove them into the coat pockets, still mesmerized by the fights which continue until Mr. Williams, strides outside the school and yells for all the kids to head home.  Although I’m not exactly guilty of playing in the snow, he turns his stern frown on me.

“That includes you, Ms. Moon.”

“Yeah, all right,” I mutter, realizing that he’s still not over Jimmie’s butt chewing.  Still, the mirror has been cleaned as if no words were ever written there, so he’s made good on at least part of his promise to Jimmie.  I don’t know if he’s figured out who wrote it or not. 

Mr. Williams gives me a warning glance then turns back to the kids who have finally quit throwing snow and head to their cars to drive home.  Griffin gives me one last look.  Then he turns toward the parking lot and heads off with Gail and Matt.  I wonder if the three of them ever separate.

Once most of the cars have pulled out, I head to the Jeep, grateful to be among the last ones so nobody is watching me.  I hate being watched.  Thrusting the keys into the door, I unlock it and climb inside, trying to get most of the snow off before I slip my feet in.  I should have worn boots.  Some snow has seeped into my shoes and melted.  My hands are red and cold because I didn’t wear gloves.  One of these days I’ll dress appropriately.

I start the Jeep and shift to reverse when something thuds against my window.  Jumping, I turn, expecting a snowball, not Lev.  He motions for me to roll the window down.

“What...what are you doing here?” I ask.

“Keeping you out of trouble,” he pants, clearly having been running.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got a flat, Elizabeth.  Your back tire is shot.”

“What?”  I cut the engine and step out of the Jeep.  Sure enough the tire is flat.  “It was fine this morning.”  I fold my arms across my chest, chilled.

“Nice jacket.”  He winks.

“You should know.  I have your other stuff in the Jeep.”  Then we both turn back to the problem.  I stare at the flat tire.

“Why don’t you go inside while I change it, okay?  You’ll be warmer there.”

I start to argue, but judging from the way he pulls out the spare and starts working the jack, I think he’s more than got it covered without any help, or rather hindrance, from me.

“Go,” he says, nudging me toward the school.  “You just took a freezing swim last night.  You don’t really need to be standing in the cold.  I’ll come and get you.”

“All right,” I say, heading to the school where I slip into the hallway and wait.

“Didn’t I tell you to go home, Ms. Moon?”  Mr. Williams’ deep voice takes me by surprise, and I turn to face him.

“Yes, you did.  But my Jeep has a flat.  Lev Walker is outside changing it.”  I point to where Lev is bent over, unscrewing the lug nuts on the ruined tire.  “Once he gets done, I’ll go.”

The principal steps to the window and peers at Lev for just a moment before nodding.  “All right.  Do you need to call Mr. Abram?”

“No, it’ll be okay.  Lev’ll be done in a minute.”

Lev is switching the tires and starting to screw on the lug nuts to the spare tire.  Hearing Mr. Williams’ dress shoes snap against the linoleum, I realize he’s leaving, and I lean against the glass, watching Lev’s fluid movements, his hand so sure and graceful.  I swallow hard, enraptured by the golden beauty surrounding him like an aura.  Once again the air shimmers around him, and I tell myself it’s the snow, but I’m not sure I believe it.

Lev sets the ruined tire in the back of the Jeep and runs his hands along the outside until he finds the damaged spot.  Frowning, he pushes it all the way in and closes the door.  He walks toward the school, and I meet him halfway. 

“There’s good news and bad news,” he says, still frowning.

“Okay, the good news is….”

“The spare is solid and will last until you can get a new tire.”  We turn and head toward the Jeep.

“And the bad?”

“It wasn’t a nail that ruined your tire.  Somebody slashed it.”

My feet stop as I imagine somebody jabbing a knife into the tire.  I start shaking as I think about all the things Jimmie has warned me about in this town.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,
” I finally say.  “Just peachy.”  It’s a lie; we both know it.  “You want a lift?”

“Nah.”  He watches me get into the Jeep.  “You should get home and talk to Jimmie about a new tire.”

“Are you avoiding me?”  It’s the million dollar question I’ve been waiting to ask.  My breath catches and I force myself to start the vehicle.

“What a silly question.  I hardly know you well enough to avoid you.”  Even as his words make me feel better, there is something in his eyes buried deep.  “You, on the other hand, should definitely be avoiding Griffin Hauser.”

“I’m trying.  He’s like ABC gum stuck to my shoe.”

“Interesting image,” he says, laughing.  Then his expression turns somber again.  “I know he seems charming, but he’s about as safe as a cobra, and the last thing you need near you is a pet snake, if you get my drift.”

I nod.  “Did you see him in the cemetery yesterday?”

“No, why?”

“He found my purse.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he was following you.  He doesn’t like the word no.”  He gritted his teeth, his expression far away, probably settling on a memory about Griffin.

“Griffin asked if we were going out.”

Lev’s expression softened and he turned back to me, his eyes intently looking into mine.  “And what did you tell him?”

“That we were friends.  Are we?”  My voice sounds strained, desperate when I don’t want it to.

“Elizabeth, there’s definitely something between us, but I don’t think I’m your best bet, okay.  You don’t even know me.”  His voice suddenly turns harder, as though there are so many things he isn’t saying.  He grips the door tightly, probably just looking for something to keep his hands busy.

“So tell me,” I whisper.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he promises, his voice rough from all the things he doesn’t say.  Then Lev Walker turns away, heading toward the cemetery, leaving me more confused than ever.

I glance at my watch and realize that I’m late going over to Shelly’s so I make two calls, one to my friend, telling her I’ll be right there, and one to Jimmie to let him know where I’m headed before I pull out of the lot.

Like I said, I have a great sense of direction, and Shelly’s instructions are easy to follow.  She lives in a house much like the one we’re at, and it’s easily just as dated inside.  The color scheme is more earthy instead of optimistic butter yellow.  As we pass through the kitchen during her grand tour, she asks, “Are you hungry?”

“No.”  It’s true enough.  About an hour ago, I started feeling a wretched headache that I can’t shake, and it’s getting worse by the minute, it seems.  I think I’ve had one migraine.  This is building toward that so I’ll be really lucky to get through some of the project.

Her room is more sedate than mine with white walls and stuffed animals lining a bay window seat.  She’s got pictures everywhere, mostly of her family and Bree.  A few with guys I don’t recognize.

“So which project are you doing?”  She sits with her legs crossed on the bed and leans against the head board where a poster of a cat in a large straw hat covers her wall.

“The miniature Globe Theatre, I think.”  I rub my left temple, kind of hoping that will drive the pain back.  “Do you have any Tylenol?  My head is pounding.”

“Sure.”  She leaves for a moment then returns with a glass of water and two pills.

“Thanks.”  I quickly take them and down the water.

“I take it you’re pretty crazy about Lev?”  She pulls out her English book.

“That obvious?” I reply distractedly.  For the first time I’m realizing just how cold I feel.  Weird, considering we’re inside and all.  Am I coming down sick?

“Just a little.”  She tilts her head sideways and grins at me.  “What’s it like being….”

“Being an Indian?”

“Well, yeah.  I’m not trying to be rude.  I’m just curious.”

I shrug.  “I don’t really know.  I was raised by Jimmie who is white, and every time I tried to connect with others like me, I never really fit in, so I gave up trying.”  I know where she is going, and if the question came from somebody else, I might take offense, but I don’t think Shelly really has a mean bone in her body.

“Are there lots more Indians in Dallas?”

I laugh and shrug.  “Not lots.  We didn’t live in teepees in the middle of neighborhoods or anything.”  Laughter thickens my voice.

“I didn’t mean it like that….” 

But I can tell by her heated flush and frown that I was in the ball park.  I’ve learned not get offended with questions like that.  Shelly’s probably lived in Hauser’s Landing most of her life.  She really doesn’t know what’s out there.

“It’s okay.  You’re not the first person who’s asked.”

“It’s just so boring around here, and you seem interesting.”