Rewrite Redemption (28 page)

Take that, Sloane Cheney!

I had two really big ones this time. I cleaned them, filled them with sage, and laid them on my fire-pit grill. Then I gathered all my stuff together. When the tingle came, I wanted to be ready. Then, with nothing else to do, I just sat there waiting to go home.

After a while, I began obsessing about just not going home at all. What if I was stranded forever? If that happened, the sooner I found civilization, the better. Of course, there might not
be
any civilization. In the eighteen or so hours I’d been there, not one jet had broken the silence. Denver International was a huge airport. Planes flew out in every direction. On this trip, my problem was the
when
.

I stacked some more wood.

When the fish were done, I had breakfast. I took a hike and climbed a couple of trees, but other than that, I just lazed around the campsite. It was when I was eating the chocolate almonds and a few peanuts for lunch, that it hit me.

If I got stuck in the past, I’d never have chocolate again. I’d never have a lot of things again…like bathrooms and showers and air-conditioning and TV and computers and phones and the net and music and Pop Tarts and pizza. What
did
they have in the olden days?—dirt, germs, dirty water, and gross food. I
really
didn’t want to stay in the olden days. I stacked some more wood. I hoped I wouldn’t be there long enough to need it all, but it helped to keep busy.

Soon, I ditched the hoodie. It got so hot mid-day; I decided to go for a swim. I wanted to wash the smoke out of my hair in case I got home early enough for school. I put some trout to the side of the coals for a slow cook, so I could wash off the fishy smell and be clean for the rest of the evening. Then I gathered up my stuff and took it all down by the water. I wanted it to be close in case the tingle came. It would suck to pop back home naked.

I stripped down and waded into the cool water. The first few moments were shocking, but I soon acclimated. It felt wonderful. I used Lex’s shampoo and conditioner to wash my hair, and then I swam around for about an hour, just lazing in the sun. Lex would flip when I told her I went skinny-dipping right out in the open. I dove deep, pulling myself along the bottom of the creek bed and feeling the soft river rock. I was coming up for air when I heard them.

I froze, and a chill ran down my naked spine.

There were two voices, both men. I swam towards the bank, making sure not to splash, deeply regretting my skinny dipping idea. I could hear them perfectly—sound carried so far out there in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, looky there, Edgar, somebody done made us some grub.”

“That’s right neighborly of them. Gimme some of that, Joe. Don’t hog the whole thing.”

“Hold on…it’s still hot. Dang it! Get the plates.”

“Hold your horses.”

“You see anybody?”

“Nope. Seems like somebody just up and left us some supper.”

“What about the chief?” 

“He can catch his own food. Umm, this is good.”

Shaking, I scrambled to dress, my wet body sticking to the clothes. My fingers were cold and stiff, as I fumbled with the buttons on my pajama top. The last thing I needed was to be caught naked by a couple of…ohmygod. I wrung out my hair and wrapped it around my head, quickly pulling on Ipod’s hat. I sat down on the root and yanked on my socks and a boot, fumbling and dropping it. Then I got it on the wrong foot. I hurriedly switched and pulled the Velcro tight on both of them. I figured I might need to run. I really hoped I didn’t need to run.

“Umm umm…that does taste fine.”

“What do you think happened to the fella what cooked this fish?”

“Probably saw us comin’ and took off. Don’t matter. There’s wood a plenty for days. Looks like we got ourselves a campsite.”

Bummer!
Any minute, they’d come down to the water. I took my folded sheet and put it under my pajama top in front, like a belly, to hide what there was of my breasts. Then I pulled on the hoodie in spite of the heat and buttoned it up all the way. Grabbing my pack, I crept along the bank, keeping low, toward an outcropping of rocks about twenty feet away. I snuck behind the bushes making myself as small as possible.

When I reached the rocks, I let out a quiet breath and crawled between two huge boulders. Standing, I could peer out over the rock behind some brush, see the campsite and the water, and yet remain hidden. Teeth clenched, I inched up to peek at what I was up against. I couldn’t believe it. I’d gone back far. I’d gone back
real
far.

I was in a freakin, olden day’s western.

I’d heard two voices, but there were three men: two scruffy cowboys and a big, muscled Indian. I stood there, watching the whole scene like it was a movie. It was just too bizarre to be real. The cowboys weren’t old, but they were so weather beaten it was hard to tell their ages. Their clothes looked like they’d been slept in for, like, months.

The one, who’d been called Joe, was skinny and wiry and had dark beady eyes—so black I wondered how he could even see through them. He kept darting those beady eyes around my campsite, as if he was looking for anything else the former occupant might have left. When he grinned, it was truly frightening. He was missing several teeth and had brown stains around his mouth from the gross stuff he kept spitting around my campfire.

The other guy had a hawk nose, massive eyebrows, and long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail. He was huge and hulking and looked like someone you didn’t want to mess with. If he was in my time, he’d be wearing an old army shirt with the sleeves ripped off and have a million tattoos. He’d own a Rottweiler and have a boatload of guns.

I pulled my hoodie close around me.

They wolfed down my fish in two minutes flat—the slime balls. When they were done, they wiped their hands on their clothes and unloaded their horses. They were absolutely disgusting. Neither man had ever seen sunscreen or conditioner, obviously. Their hair looked like it had been hacked off in chunks with a knife. The two cowboys shuffled down to the water, leading their horses. They took a drink and then sat down on the bank, pulled off their boots, and put their feet in the water.

The Indian followed. He didn’t say a word to them. He just took a drink—upstream from their dirty feet, I noticed—and headed back up to the campsite.

The Indian was young…maybe mid-twenties. He was tall and lean and his arms and legs rippled with muscle. He had a long straight nose, jet black hair, high cheekbones and dark, observant eyes. A curved bow and a quiver of arrows hung over one shoulder and leather pouches hung from his neck and waist. He wore a deerskin loincloth, a beaded necklace, leggings, and moccasins.

He moved fluidly through the campsite, making no noise at all. He knelt down to check out my footprints. Lex’s slipper boots had rubber, grippy stuff on the bottom with stars cut into the heels. I’d walked all over the campsite with them.

No doubt he’d never seen that kind of footprint before. After studying them for a while, he followed them to my sleeping place, kneeling down to examine the bed of sage. He scanned the campsite carefully…looking for the person who wore those boots. And that was
me
.

My heart began to race again, and I struggled not to hyperventilate. I felt totally trapped. I
was
totally trapped. There was nothing I could do, and damn it, no way I could make myself just freakin beam back home. All I could do was watch…and wait for him to find me.

He followed my tracks down to the cottonwood that stuck out over the water. He picked up my fishing poles and studied them. He touched the end of the safety pin and jerked as it pricked his finger. He had to struggle to break the fishing line and seemed astonished at how strong it was. He broke off the part of the stick where it was attached, pulled out a piece of leather, and wrapped it around the hooks and line. Then he put it in the pouch at his waist. He walked back towards the campsite, scanning the ground. All this time, he said nothing to the cowboys who were lying on the bank with their feet in the water.

I just stood there, breathing in and out; thinking
now
would be a good time to feel the freakin tingle. And just as I had the thought, that my heart was beating so loud,
surely
he could hear it...

He froze with his head to the side like he actually did. 

He arched his eyebrows, and he turned and looked straight at me. In a flash, he had an arrow in his bow. Crouching low he crept towards me. I sank down between the rocks, my heart going wild. I clutched my bag close and ducked my head, trying desperately to be invisible. I didn’t even hear his approach; he was so quiet. But I sensed him.

And when I looked up, this hard muscled Indian was standing there just staring at me.

Talk about a rock and a hard place.

With no place to run.

My dad was gone when I stumbled to the kitchen the next morning. A note on the counter told me to go to school and to call at lunch. To tell the truth, I welcomed the promise of high school monotony after all the drama I’d experienced in the last, well, a heck of a long time. Had my life ever been normal? I couldn’t remember.

I stopped by the office to see my counselor about the absences. But when I saw the look of pity on her face, I knew my mom had called her already. If she were in the middle of a tornado in the middle of a desert being chased by a pack of wild hyenas; my mother would still be responsible.

Too bad I didn’t inherit that gene.

I got by with skipping Monday afternoon since it coincided with the accident. Someone had turned in my backpack, and the counselor handed it over apologetically. She said she’d discussed my situation with my teachers which I appreciated since I hadn’t done any homework. Plus it gave me a free pass for less than stellar behavior for a week or so. No one would make me answer questions, pay attention, or even show up for every class. I grabbed my excuse, said thanks, and went to homeroom.

I couldn’t sense A.J. and that scared me. I kept hoping she was just late, but I didn’t feel her all morning. Time flowed glacier slow. By fourth period, I was as tense as a guitar string. People bitched at me twice for tapping my foot and once for drumming my pen on the desk. Yeah, I was making friends left and right there at Boulder High. I was the first person to arrive at room 217, where I waited anxiously.

Two seconds before the bell rang, Lex wandered in looking like she’d just come from a funeral. She was dressed all in black. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and it looked like she hadn’t combed her hair. She dropped into her seat with a thud and immediately laid her head on her arms.

“Lex,” I said softly.

She didn’t move.

“Lex!” I repeated.

She lifted one elbow and peered at me from underneath it. “Leave me alone!” she hissed back.

“You okay?”

She ignored me. I nudged her with my shoe. She kicked my foot away.

The teacher started conjugating verbs on the board. She noticed Lex’s head down on her desk and tapped her on the shoulder, asking her to join the class. When she caught a look at Lex’s face, she did a double take but didn’t comment.

Lex sat stoically, her arms folded across her chest and her swollen eyes half closed. The teacher didn’t bother her again. Only a fool would do that.

Enter the fool. I wrote her a note.

I passed it to her when the teacher turned to the blackboard. She scowled, sighed heavily, scribbled something, and tossed it back without looking at me.