After third period, Billy had sold the last of his dope to a couple of stoners in his class.
René came around the corner, carrying his usual textbook and binder. A white t-shirt beneath a patterned sweater of reds, grays, and cool blues moved in form with his perfect V shape. Shredded jeans rolled above the ankles exposed the tops of his black combat boots. “What’s up?”
“Not much.” Billy stuffed the cash inside his pocket.
“Don’t tell me you’re still... y’know. I got you a job.” René glanced around.
“I’m only gonna clock in four hours a week. And for minimum wage, dude. It’ll take me ten years to buy your bike.”
A slow breath came from René’s lips. “I got you the job so you don’t have to work your other job.”
“I know, but I already got two hundred bucks stashed.” Billy moved aside for a few classmates ambling by.
“You keep it up, you’re gonna be doing more time than Al Capone.”
“I won’t get busted. I’m a juvie. Hoyt says they can’t toss me in the slammer until I turn eighteen.”
“What about the youth detention center? They can toss your ass in there until you’re eighteen and then send you to jail.” René pressed his lips together. “You can’t keep doing what you’re doing. Look, two hundred’s cool. The bike’s yours.”
What the hell? The guy could sell his bike for a helluva lot more. Billy should jump at the chance, but he wasn’t a charity case. He raised his chin. “I’ll buy it for what it’s worth.”
Wait, he was being insane. René was acting as a friend. Even better, he’d stopped to speak in the hallway, where everyone could see them. Sure, he hadn’t sought Billy out since the computer lab was on the main floor, but so what? The guy had stopped, and was laying five on a classmate asking for a palm while passing by them. “Delete that. I changed my mind.”
René quirked a brow. “Delete?”
“Just came from computer class. Was deleting a lesson I messed up. Now I’m deleting what I told you.”
The dimples appeared beneath René’s striking cheekbones. His dark eyes became a delicious sip of hot cocoa. “You do know it goes to the recycle bin. I can call it back up.”
“Oh yeah?” Billy’s insides twirled. “Then I’m emptying the recycle bin.”
“Trumped.” René’s eyes were not just delicious cocoa. They were bright stars twinkling in the midnight sky. “I’ll bring up the file through a recovery program. We learned how to do it this morning.”
“Then I’ll wipe the hard drive.” Billy slid in closer to René’s cute dimples and wicked grin.
“Matt would easily find the file. He’s the Bill Gates of computers. And he said a wipe doesn’t erase everything.” René’s sexy mouth widened. He flashed his perfectly rectangular white teeth.
“Then I guess you got me beat, huh? Do I or don’t I get the bike, hmm?” Billy edged up on his toes. His hammering heart seemed to shift to his throat.
René positioned his hand against the wall, leaning in close enough so the rich, clean scent caressed Billy’s face and light breaths dusted his lips. “I’d say you earned it. It’s all yours.”
The thudding of Billy’s heart pattered fast enough to twist the air in his windpipe. Oh my God, René truly dug him. And he wasn’t going to stop invading his personal space, although the guy assumed Billy would. “You’re boss, man. Totally boss. Thanks.”
“Stop by after school. It’s in the garage.” Using his hand, René pushed off the wall, and the sensual aroma vanished.
“After... after... after...” Crap, something or someone had stolen Billy’s tongue. “After school?”
“Renny. Let’s go.” Chunk and one of the Gerhard twins stood at the main door.
“I gotta bounce. The boys wait. We only got five for a cig before the next bell goes. Later.” René cast the same wink his uncle had given Billy, but this one was playful, even teasing, enough to curl his toes.
Still flashing his white teeth, René turned his head and sauntered to his buddies.
Come back. Come back. What’d you do to me? Billy set his palm on his heaving chest. Ned had said something about his wife using love medicine on him. Had René’s uncle cast some sort of spell the other day when they’d sat around the fire?
Not only had Billy scored a dirt bike, he’d scored... something else. Something better. He darted for Indian Corner to tell his buddies the great news.
“Go get your rat, man. You’re the homie!” Dylan hooted.
Billy rose from his spot at the back of the bus and swaggered to the front. The doors hissed and opened. Even the bodacious Carla Morrisseau’s dark pretty eyes watched him. Grinning, he cast her the same wink Ned and René had previously used.
He hopped down the steps and stood in front of the street with the big circle that led to Castle Oshawee. If he turned around, he’d probably see brown faces pressed against the windows, gaping in disbelief while he strutted along the road to the massive crib.
René emerged from the garage. “Hey, over here.”
The bus’s tires rolling over the oiled road drifted to where Billy walked—no, trotted. Never mind being boss. René and the bike waited. Billy dashed past the truck, bolted into the garage, and screeched to a halt.
The stalls had a gray floor with black speckles. “Whoa. This place is cleaner and in way better shape than my pad.”
René chuckled. “This way. It’s in the third stall.” He opened a door.
Billy ran his hand over the chief’s grand truck that had a crew cab. When he entered the third stall, the gleaming bike with its bright lime-green frame and blue seat waited for him. Everyone would shit when they saw him bombing around on this mofo. “It’s really mine?”
“Yeah. Dad’s gonna do the paperwork.”
“It’s really mine?” Billy caressed the handlebars of the ninety-three two-stroke Ranger 1500. Already, he’d promised his buddies rides.
“You gotta learn how to handle it first. She’s got a lot of kick. Major kick.” René gripped the handlebars. “This is your clutch.” He pushed the one on the left. “A clutch is what allows you to shift gears. Understand?”
“Yeah... I think.”
“You think? C’mere.” René hit a button, and the garage door rolled open. “It’s like driving a car. Engines have gears. The higher the power you require from the engine, the higher the gear. Get in.”
Billy jumped in. He rested his hand on the stick shift. A thrill of excitement saturated him. He was sitting in a spot only Chunk was allowed the honor.
“You see me using this. It’s what I use to shift to another gear. Your left foot is what operates the clutch. The clutch must be engaged to shift to the next gear. Clutch in and shift. Clutch out. Don’t ride it. It’s gotta be a smooth transition.”
René pointed at the tachometer on the dashboard. “This is what you can use as a guide. But you’ll feel when to shift gears. First, rely on your ears.”
“What d’you mean guide?”
“This is your RPMs. Revolutions per minute. It inches upward”—René pointed at the needle—”the more power you have on the gas. The higher it goes, you change gears by pressing on the clutch and shifting the stick.”
Holy crap, Billy was supposed to remember all of this?
“You gotta learn, dude. If you learn how to drive a stick, you can drive anything. Lemme show you. Get out.”
Billy jumped from the truck.
René slid the key into the ignition. “The stick’s in first. It’s where you keep it when the engine isn’t on. To start, you put your foot on the brake and push in the clutch, like this.” His left running shoe pressed on the clutch while he turned the key. The engine roared to life. He moved the stick shift to the middle spot.
“This is neutral. My foot’s on the brake. If I wanna back up, I press in the clutch and shift to reverse. This is reverse.” René tapped the spot where he’d shift the gear to. “Once you understand how to do this, without stalling it, you can try riding the bike.”
“What? I can’t ride it now?” Billy asked.
“Nope. She’s got a lot of power. You’ll go over the handlebars if you screw up. Dad told me if I’m gonna sell it, I gotta teach you how to drive it. Danny taught me.”
“Your older brother?”
“Yep. I learned on his bike. I didn’t get mine until I was good enough. Dad said your mom has to register the bike in her name.”
“Mom?” Not only did Billy’s heart seem to sink to the floor, so did his hope. “Why?”
“You’re not old enough to register an off-road vehicle. It has to be your mom.”
“If she finds out I have two hundred bucks, she’ll take it from me.” Billy kicked at the blacktop below his feet. There had to be a way around this. Already, he’d bragged on the school bus to everyone about buying the bike. If he reneged on what he’d boasted about, he’d be a bigger joke than he already was.
“Dude, it’s your money.”
“It don’t matter. She’ll take it anyway.”
“Dad was firm. He said your mom’s gotta register it. He said if she doesn’t, and you get into an accident, she’ll sue our asses off.”
Billy leaned against the truck. Great. Just fucking great. “She won’t. She hates you guys. She’ll probably say something like she ain’t taking the chief’s castoffs.”
“I can’t sell it unless your mom agrees to register it.”
Life always had to punch Billy in the balls. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Like hell he was giving up. “What if you sell it to Chunk and Chunk sells it to me?”
“Chunk’s parents can’t own the bike on your behalf.”
“Why can’t your dad sign it over to me? I won’t say anything. Mom doesn’t give a shit what I do. She’s never home.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. She should give a shit and be home.”
“She doesn’t.” Billy huffed to the garage. The bike waited for him, washed and gleaming. So close yet so far. “Can we at least go for a ride?”
“I only got one helmet.”
“So?”
“I can’t ride without a helmet. Neither can you. And the bike isn’t built for two.”
“Let’s go anyway. Please? Please?” Begging sucked, but this might be Billy’s only chance. Shit, he could almost taste the wind in his hair.
“No way. If my parents catch us, I’ll lose my wheels for a month.”
“A month?” Billy sputtered. “Man, what’s their problem? Why’re they so strict?”
“I dunno. It’s how they are.”
“Mom won’t notice I have a bike. She’s too drunk to care.” Billy sounded like a dog sitting on its hind legs pleading for a treat.
He banged his fist on a shelf. Why couldn’t his mother drop off the face of the earth? Today was supposed to be the best day of his life, and his family had screwed up everything, as usual. “I never get to do anything ‘cause of her. I can’t have anything ‘cause of her. She’s a stupid cunt.” He stomped from the garage.
“Whoa. Chill.”
Billy whipped on his heel. “Chill? I finally get to have something. Mine. All mine.” He thrust his finger at his chest. “I told everyone I was buying your rat. Now I’m gonna look like a total doofus ‘cause I have to eat my words. My fucking fam’s burned me again. I hate them. I hate them all. It’s their fault everyone can’t stand me. It’s their fault nobody wants me around but Lonn and Dylan.”
“I want you around.” René folded his arms and slowly walked over.
The heat dropped to Billy’s feet, and tingles raced up his spine. Through his dry mouth, he croaked out, “Why?”
“I dunno. I dig you.” René shrugged.
“Tell me why you dig me.”
“I just do.” René’s voice was softer than cotton stroking Billy’s skin.
“Take me for a ride. Please?”
René’s full pink lips pursed. He glanced at the bike and then back at Billy. “We can go after supper. I don’t work tonight. Dad’s got a meeting, and Mom’s going to bingo. You can’t say anything.” He raised his finger. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“Tonight? For sure?” The tension in Billy’s muscles lightened.
“Yeah.”
Finally, someone was listening. Finally, someone cared, really cared. René could get into a shitload of trouble, but he was willing to risk it for... me.
Billy dashed across the field. When he closed in on the fence, he ran full tilt. His running shoes dug into the horizontal board nailed into the vertical ones. He leaped and grasped the top of the fence. With one swoop, he vaulted over and hit the grass.
This was the first time he’d been in the Oshawees’ backyard. He gaped at the two-tiered deck that held more furniture than his living room. Wicker chairs. Glass wicker table. Umbrella on top. A big barbecue. Lounge chairs to lie on and catch a few rays of Father Sun. Besides the pool, they even had a gazebo and a hot tub.
The sliding door opened. René meandered outside, holding a can of pop.
“Is this a hot tub?” Billy pointed.
“Yeah.”
“Cool. You take a dip in it?”
“Not really.” René snapped open the cream soda. “Dad uses it. He says it helps his back.”
“You don’t use it? Whoa, I would.”
“Not my style. I’d rather go swimming than sit in a bunch of hot water.”
“I’d use it.”
“C’mon. We gotta make use of the daylight. Let’s motor.” René sauntered down the steps, using the flower-lined path leading to the garage.
Billy followed. Maybe he’d get a tour of René’s crib after their ride.
“Here.” René set the cream soda on the shelf and held out the helmet.
The dude was riding in front of the bike. “Why don’t you?” Billy offered.
“Nope. You gotta wear it. You’re the juvie. Not me.” René wheeled the bike from the garage. “Cross your fingers my uncles don’t see us.” He used his chin to motion at the two other houses taking up the cul-de-sac.
“This is pretty neat. Is there a reason your road ends in a circle?”
“No idea. I guess they wanted to live together on the same road.”
“Is anyone ever gonna build there?” Billy pointed at the straight part of the road.
“Not that I know of.” René slid his long leg over the seat. He kick-started the bike. The engine revved. “Get on.”
Billy’d been so excited about riding the dirt bike he’d forgotten they’d be squashed together. He could do this. With a big breath of encouragement, he flipped his leg over the frame and sat. His crotch pressed against René’s butt. Sweat sprang from Billy’s skin.
The ride. He must stay focused.
He gingerly placed his hands on René’s waist. The muscles beneath the dude’s clothing tightened. Billy silently pleaded René wouldn’t get angry, because he’d said too many times he hated people getting in his personal space.
“We’re gone,” René shouted over the high noise the engine made. “Hang on tight.”
Billy locked his fingers around René. You told me to do this so don’t get mad. I don’t wanna kiss the pavement.
Wind hurled at Billy’s face. It was the Great Mother. She rushed along his exposed skin, her thrilling voice zipping between his teeth and into his mouth. He held tighter to the warmth of René’s six-foot-two athletic body while he steered the bike down the road. As René leaned into the turn, Billy also leaned in, letting his body flow with the motion of the bike.
This was what it was like to fly. They soared down the street, zooming by the broken-down houses. A drum beat deep in Billy, booming loud enough for the whole rez to hear. He set the chin bar of his helmet on René’s wide shoulder, gaping at the oncoming scenery of overgrown lawns and more oiled pavement.
“This is... “ The Great Mother’s roaring wind choked down Billy’s words. He gritted his teeth. There wasn’t a chance he’d slap down the visor. And he sure wasn’t going to demand they go faster, because René had stepped up the speed. His hair whipped about, and his smooth stomach muscles clenched beneath Billy’s fingers.
“Hold on,” René shouted over the screaming engine.
Billy melted himself against René.
“Use your body and move with mine,” René hollered. His foot came off the peg, and they whipped into a forty-five-degree turn onto Ojibway Drive.
For a second, Billy’s heart stopped beating. He buried the face of his helmet into René’s back. Dirt sprayed on his skin. The sharp, tiny pebbles pricked his exposed flesh, and he winced. Breathless, he peeked behind him at the cloud of dust. What he wouldn’t give to try that maneuver.
They kept leaving a dust trail until they reached Mountain Road. He swallowed the scent of René’s excitement, a mixture of sweat and fresh air. No wonder he used to ride this baby all the time. What a rush. This was better than dope. Better than booze. Better than Billy’s first make-out session with Julie Handorgan when he was thirteen. Better than anything he’d ever tried.
The bike slowed. Again, René’s boot came off the peg. He set it on the ground while glancing left and right. Engine revving, they swerved onto the beat-up, brush-laden path Billy used as a shortcut to reach the hiking trail.
They began climbing the mountain.
All he could do was cling to René, who’d shifted to his haunches, his butt off the seat. Every jolt rattled Billy’s teeth. No wonder the dude rode alone since he had to use his thighs most of the time to work the bike over the rough terrain. The odd moment, René’s foot swept the ground to guide them.
Billy kept his legs pulled in as close as he could and let his body follow the motion of the veering and swerving bike. How was he going to hang on once they reached the super-steep trail? They’d be almost ninety degrees.
After five minutes of being rocked back and forth, up and down, and backward and forward, the bike came off the ground. For a few daring seconds, they soared through the air. The scream lodged in Billy’s throat. He again squeezed his eyes shut and held tight. They landed on the oiled road. Panting, he breathed deep into the helmet.
Instead of going up the path, René raced down the road, taking the main way up to the lookout point. Finally, a chance to gather some air. Billy rested the chin bar on René’s shoulder. Talk about pooped. A good pooped. Any more excitement, and Billy might fly apart.