Tex (6 page)

“You can get off now,” Johnny said.

“Hey, come on,” I said. “You don't want to kill yourself.”

We looked down to where everybody was grouped, watching. Roger hollered something, we couldn't hear what.

“Off,” Johnny said. I got off reluctantly. “Johnny…”

He revved up the engine and took off. I watched him, so antsy I couldn't stand still. Geez, Johnny, faster! I was twisting my fists around like I could change the gears for him. He should have had it wide open by now, full throttle, unless he wanted to be able to stop, unless he thought he'd change his mind … he's going right off the cliff, dammit! I thought He's going to be dead and I could have stopped him, I should have stopped him … I started running.

Johnny realized he didn't have enough speed, not enough to make the jump, but too much to stop. I felt like I was running in a nightmare; I was going as fast as I could but not covering any ground. Everything was happening in slow motion. Johnny slammed on the brakes and the cycle skidded, turning, but moving right toward the creek. Johnny laid the cycle on its side and they both slid to the edge.

I didn't stop running, even when I saw he wasn't going over.

Johnny was looking at his leg. Most of his jeans and part of his leg was in shreds from the gravel. His jacket had protected his arm, but his knuckles were skinned up, too.

Everybody else buzzed up. Roger had the decency to pause, making sure Johnny wasn't really hurt, before he said, “Run out of gas?”

Johnny didn't look up from picking the rocks out of his leg. I could tell he was wishing he had gone over the bank rather than have to face everybody.

I went over and picked up Johnny's cycle. “Shoot,” I said, catching my breath. “He just hit a bump. Anybody could hit a bump. But seeing how he can't give it another chance, I will.”

I started up the cycle. I wasn't worried about wrecking it. If that cycle didn't go across that creek bed, for everybody to see, Johnny'd never ride it again anyway. I drove back up the hill, turned, and paused. Everybody was standing to one side, even Johnny had limped out of the way. I saw them for a few seconds, then I didn't see anything but the creek.

When I used to ride in junior rodeos, before money was such a problem, I had the same thing happen to me. You think the crowd is so loud you can't hear yourself think, then you climb in the chute and everything disappears except you and what you're up against. I wouldn't have cared if there were five guys down there, or five hundred, or nobody. I was going across that creek.

I started down the hill, changing gears fast. I didn't even hear the roar of the engine. I kept my eyes on where I wanted to land. A motorcycle needs speed to jump, where it's mostly impulsion with a horse. A horse can tell where you're looking, and head that way, and care if he makes the jump. A horse is a partner, but on a cycle you're all by yourself. Still I leaned and steadied that hunk of machinery like I would a horse coming to a scary jump. When I left the bank and the air whistled around me, and the rocky creek bed floated out behind me, I thought, “Good boy!” and I wasn't talking to myself.

I came down where I'd planned to, but harder than I thought I would. The cycle bounced hard, and we parted company—the cycle going in one direction and me in another. I've had a lot of practice at being thrown from horses, so I know how to relax and roll. And I still got the wind knocked out of me. That sure is a sickening feeling, waiting for air and not really sure you'll get it again.

Somebody came scrambling up the creek bank. I got a mild shock when I looked in that direction. I hadn't cleared the creek by as much as I thought. In fact I'd barely made it.

“Tex?” Johnny crawled over the edge and sat down on his heels beside me. “You okay?”

I nodded, still needing all my air for breathing. Then I tried sitting up. Everything spun around, then settled into place. I waved at everybody watching from the other side. They all cheered and waved back.

“Well, I did it.” I felt like I'd won a war, single-handed. “Me and this little bitty thing.”

Johnny was getting some color back in his face. He'd been white as a sheet a few minutes before.

“I thought you didn't have any competitive spirit,” he said finally.

“I just wanted to see if I could do it,” I said.

“It was really great. You looked like a stunt rider or something. I guess…” He looked away. “I shouldn't have let Roger psych me out like that. But he thinks that Honda is so cool—”

“Shoot,” I said, “I don't see him jumping over here.”

Sure enough the others were all driving off in different directions.

“Johnny, there are people who go places and people who stay, and I think we stayers ought to stick together.”

He grinned at me. Then he said, “Your jacket's ripped.”

I took it off to look at it It was an old sheep-herder jacket of Mason's, but the only coat I had. Ripped was an understatement. It looked like somebody had rubbed a giant piece of sandpaper across the back. Then I looked at the cycle. It lay like a turtle on its back, the wheels still spinning.

“I hope the cycle's okay.” I started to get up, then caught my breath. My back was really sore. Johnny got up and gave me a hand up. I was tottering around like an old man, holding my hand on my lower back.

“Are
you
okay, that's the question. I can get a new cycle,” Johnny said.

“I'm okay.”

We got the cycle upright and Johnny tried to get it started, but it'd just splutter and then die. We took turns pushing it home. Johnny limped a lot, and my back ached terrible. We both felt fine.

When I got home that evening, Mason was standing against the kitchen doorway, trying to mark off how tall he was. That doorway was full of marks like that He turned around and measured the distance between the last two marks, scowling.

“Ain't you growing fast enough to suit you?” I asked. I tried to take my jacket off without him seeing it—I didn't need a lecture about how I wasn't going to get a new one. Luckily he was too busy writing on the wall to notice me.

“Shoot,” I said, “you're over six feet tall now. You don't want to turn into a freak.”

“I'd turn into the bearded lady if it'd get me into college,” he muttered. He turned to me. “You think I've stopped growing?”

I looked at him for a minute. You can tell how tall a horse is going to be by the length of his legs when he's young; I figured that'd work for humans, too. “Naw. You got a few inches to go.”

Mason sighed with relief.

“Okay, I told you something, now you tell me something. How do you think I look?”

Mason choked on a laugh, then really looked at me for the first time that afternoon. “Well, you look pretty messed up right now. What happened?”

“I jumped the creek on Johnny's cycle and didn't land right. I mean, do you think I'm good-looking?”

“The creek? You jumped the creek? The same one Joe Taylor smashed himself up on?”

“Yeah, but I made it okay.”

“You hare-brained idiot, you're not going to make it to sixteen if you keep doing dumb—”

“Okayokay. But Mace, just imagine, man, how it's going to freak everybody out at school, that I jumped the creek and made it. They are going to go nuts.”

I was thinking about what Jamie would say. She already thought I was cute—dumb word, but girls used it…

“I am the one who is going to go nuts. Goddammit, Texas, you could have ended up in the hospital for the rest of your life!”

He broke off suddenly, like he was too mad to even talk. He stalked off into the kitchen. In a little bit I followed him.

“Hey, look, I won't do it again, okay?” I said.

“No, but you'll do something else just as stupid. Sometimes I don't even know why I try.”

A flinch ran across his face. I slunk off into the bathroom to wash up. I really didn't mean to get Mason upset like that. Pop wouldn't be upset when he heard. He'd probably think it was really cool.

I wished I could ask Mason if he thought I was good-looking. It's hard to tell about your own face, since you see it all the time. I do have really good hair. It's probably my best point. It's a light bright gold-brown, the same color as my eyes. It sun-bleaches even lighter in the summer.

I stared at the mirror, trying to see what somebody else would see if they didn't live in that face. A chipped tooth. That scar over my left eyebrow that Mason had given me. I have kind of a boney face, like Mason, but where he looks like a proud hawk, I look more like a surprised antelope. I've taken too much razzing about my dimples not to know I have 'em, but I can't tell if they're a good thing to have or not.

“Nobody's going to mistake you for Robert Redford, if that's what you're worried about.”

Mason's voice made me jump. He was sitting on the bed changing into his jogging tennis shoes. I felt myself get red.

“I ain't worried about it.”

“You ought to get your hair cut.” Mason had cut his short last summer, and now a lot of kids in his class started cutting their hair shorter, too. If Mason wore a pickle behind his ear, there's people who'd do that, too. I can tell he gets a kick out of that, even though he never says anything about it.

“Jamie likes my hair just like it is.”

Mason raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. He looked like he was pretty much over being mad at me.

“I'm going into the city Saturday,” he said. “You need anything?”

“Hey, I want to go, too,” I said. “Come on.”

“Okay, okay. But you'll have to get up early, I got a nine o'clock appointment.”

“Sure,” I said, thinking about how I could talk him into letting me drive some. Mason wasn't too bad about letting me drive, not bad at all considering I didn't even have a beginner's permit, but right after jumping the creek wasn't the right time to bring it up. I'd let him drive in and pester him to let me drive back. He'd probably be ready to let me; city traffic always made him nervous. It didn't bother me none.

“Maybe we can go to a movie,” I said, getting excited. I hadn't been to the city for months, except for going to the Fair.

“Maybe,” Mason said.

“And McDonald's.”

“Sure,” Mason said. “Sure.”

Saturday morning I got up even earlier than Mason. It was pitch black outside. He was awake, but he didn't seem to be in any big hurry to get up, which was funny after the way he'd pushed me to bed the night before, carrying on about how he couldn't be late. I wasn't sleepy like I was on school days. I fixed some coffee and scrambled eggs and burned three pieces of toast before I finally gave up on it. I heard Mason splashing around in the tub, but I'd taken a bath the day before. I wasn't about to take another one.

“Hey, let's go to Westmall,” I said, as Mason came into the kitchen. Westmall was a neat shopping center, all enclosed like a giant cave. I loved walking up and down looking in all the stores. Mason hated it. He always said the place made him feel like a hick because we couldn't afford to buy one single thing there. That wasn't true—there was a big discount store at one end of the mall where we'd bought jeans and shirts and stuff lots of times. Mason could get the weirdest ideas in his head.

Sure enough he said, “I don't want to.”

When I opened my mouth to argue, he went on, “You can go by yourself while I'm at the hospital.”

“What you goin' to the hospital for? Visiting Charlie Collins?”

I figured Charlie might be recommending him to some college or something. Charlie knew a lot of people.

“I'm going in for some tests.”

For a second I thought he meant tests like school tests. Then I realized he meant tests like a doctor gives you to see what's wrong.

I set my coffee down so hard it splashed out and burnt my hand. Mason got up and started washing the dishes. He hadn't eaten a bite of anything. I just sat and stared at him, my insides quivering. Finally he looked over at me, “Good God! What's the matter?”

“Is it cancer or something?” I asked shakily. We didn't watch much TV, but it seemed like every day at school all the girls would be talking about some show where somebody, some kid or football player or hippie person, was dying of cancer. “It was
so
sad,” they'd say. “I just
cried
.”

Anyway, I knew sometimes people went into hospitals and never came out. What if Mason was dying!

“Tex,” he laughed, “it's not cancer. At least I'm pretty sure it's not I just thought I'd better check it out.”

I just looked at him. Maybe he was putting up a front. He never could stand anybody feeling sorry for him. “Yeah?” I said. “How sure?”

“Well, Charlie didn't think it was serious. He set up my appointments for me.”

And when I didn't look convinced he said, “I don't lie to you, remember?”

I licked the back of my hand where the coffee had made a big red blotch. Maybe it wasn't serious. He looked healthy enough, a little on the lean side, but I was, too, and there sure wasn't anything wrong with me. “If you ain't sick why ain't you eatin' anything? It ain't bad cooking, for me.”

Mason shook his head. “I'm not supposed to eat anything until the tests are done. Come on, get your teeth brushed, it's time to go.”

It looked like everybody in the county decided they had to be in the city by nine o'clock. Pretty soon Mason was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Then he was either muttering to himself or hollering out the window. Being a jock he knew some good things to holler.

“I don't know why the hell people don't obey the law!” he snapped, as a big silver Chevy roared past us. I didn't point out the fact that we were doing ten miles over the speed limit ourselves. I just didn't have the heart to laugh at Mace like I usually did. Maybe he really was sick. After all, people didn't go to the hospital to get tested for measles. If Pop knew Mason was sick, he'd come home. He'd do anything for Mason. But if Mace had to stay in the hospital, how could I get hold of Pop to let him know? What was I going to do if something happened to Mason?

I stared out at the oncoming cars.

“Mace,” I said, struck by a thought, “did you ever think that all those people in those cars have a whole separate story to them, that it's just as important to them as our stuff is to us, and we don't know anything about it. Maybe sometime we'll run across somebody and two years ago they were driving past us on the highway and we never knew it. Like sometimes we meet people and bump off of them and never see them again and we never know why paths cross.”

“Yeah, sure I spend a lot of time worrying about that,” Mason said sarcastically.

“I'm not worrying, I'm thinking.”

“Well, don't pass out from the shock.
I'm
thinking it's damned dumb to have a two-lane highway in this day and age.” He leaned out the window and yelled some more.

The traffic was a little better when we got to the expressway. It's better on Saturdays. The hospital was almost clear downtown. Mason was in a real sweat by the time we got there. He pulled down a side street and parked.

“Why don't you go on to the shopping center and meet me back here in a couple of hours?” he asked.

“Don't you want me to go with you?”

“No,” he said bluntly.

“How come?” My voice was rising. “You don't want me to know you got something serious, right? That's it, ain't it?”

Mace reached over and patted my shoulder. “Calm down. It's just that I'll have to be doing a lot of waiting around and it'd get on my nerves to have you fidgeting around with me. You don't sit still easy, you know.”

He got out, and I slid over to the driver's seat.

“Mace…”

“Come on, kid, I'll be okay. Look, be careful, and don't drag race.”

“Okay.”

“And don't lose the car.”

Once we had lost the car at Westmall because the parking lots were so big. We'd thought for an hour it'd been stolen, when it was just parked on the other side of the mall. I'd have to make sure of which door I went in.

“Okay,” I said. “You want me to get you anything while I'm there?”

“Oh, sure,” Mace said, “here's my American Express card, get anything that catches your fancy.” Then he turned around and walked toward the hospital. I watched him for a minute, then started up the truck and drove off.

I got to the mall without any trouble, except I sort of ran a stoplight, but I didn't get caught. Most of the stores weren't open yet, so I walked up and down looking in the windows. After an hour or so, it started filling up with people, but I still felt kind of lonesome. It was weird being lonesome in a place full of people. I never get lonesome out hunting or fishing by myself. I tried not to worry about Mason.

I went into the bookstore to see if they had a copy of
Smokey the Cowhorse
in paperback, but they didn't. I spent a while looking at the books anyway. I like to read okay, but I just never seemed to have time for it.

Then I went into a jeans shop. I can't believe people buy jeans already faded, when just a month out riding in them will do a plenty good job.

“If you can help me I'll let you know,” a voice said.

“Okay,” I said absently, then realized that wasn't how the sentence was supposed to go. I looked at the salesgirl.

“Sorry,” she smiled, “I just get tired of saying the same thing all the time. Anyway, I wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

I was now. She was really cute, with gold hair and big light-green eyes and the neatest gold freckles all over her face. She was maybe a year older than me.

“Would you like to try on some jeans?”

“Uh, no, I'm just looking,” I said. Somehow the thought of picking out jeans with a girl salesclerk was kind of embarrassing. Then I felt dumb. I must look really dumb. Maybe this was why Mason hated going into stores, they made you feel dumb. I turned around and nearly knocked over a rack of shirts. I set them up and hurried out. I heard her say to another salesgirl, “I knew that kid wasn't going to buy anything.”

“Yeah, but he was a foxy little devil, wasn't he?” the other one said.

I was so confused I couldn't see straight and almost knocked down an older lady carrying a bunch of sacks. I hate getting embarrassed. The more you think about it the worse it gets.

I stopped at the snack bar to get a Coke to cool off. That salesgirl was kind of cute, too. I couldn't figure out why girls were getting so cute lately. Last year they hadn't been so great.

I sat down on the edge of the indoor fountain and tried to calm down a little. I couldn't go charging around knocking things and people over. That would really look dumb.

Every once in a while somebody would come along and toss a penny in the fountain. The bottom was covered with pennies. That always made Mason so mad he couldn't see straight. Shoot, if it'd get me a wish, I'd try it myself. Anyway, it wasn't my pennies they were throwing. Try and tell Mason that.

Then I felt mean, thinking about Mace like that, and him at the hospital that very minute.

I was tired of walking up and down, so I went outside. Across a stretch of parking lot was a big sporting goods store, a movie house, a record shop, and an ice cream parlor. If you didn't know better, you'd think stores multiplied like rabbits.