The End of FUN (49 page)

There was a short recess, which actually lasted an hour, and then presiding judge Helen Levitt returned to deliver the sentencing verdict of Angelo Davíd Sandoval for one count of criminal misdemeanor: public intoxication. This would mean a98,000 in court fees and fines; two hundred hours of community service; and required completion of Crime: The Real Victim, a class to be held every Tuesday and Thursday evening in the basement of the First Antello Baptist Church.

I didn't get to talk to Oso after the trial, but he showed up at my grandfather's house the next Saturday with two 5-irons and a putter, and we went golfing. The grass had burned in big black patches, and where it hadn't burned it was in various states of death—yellow, brown—and it was like walking around on a giant camouflaged bedspread. The patches made the contours more difficult to judge—not that I've ever been much of a golfer, or any kind of golfer, really—though I am proud to say I'm one of only a handful to ever have golfed the famous Coyote Heights. Let me tell you, that water hazard on 13 is a real bitch—even without the water.

We took a break on the hill above the 14th hole, the one where I'd fired off my grandfather's ashes, and looked out at the apocalyptic land.

When Oso reached into his pocket, I was expecting him to pull out some pills, but instead it was a pack of TrueMint
®
Spearmint gum (YAY!).

“You want one?”

“What's it do?”

“Keeps your breath fresh. Gives your jaw something to do. I'm going sober, bro. Not just because of the probation, either. It's time. I'm evolving, bro. By the way, thanks for your testimony at the sentencing. You really saved my butt.”

“Well, you had a lot of support—what was up with the Santistevan brothers? You worked out some kind of deal with them?”

“Yep. It's the biker code, bro.
Keep it even
. For not turning their asses in for selling fake VPHPs, they agreed to testify on my behalf.”

“I was meaning to ask you about those pills. When I ate some that night with the backhoe, I really felt something weird.”

“Nah, bro. The police tested them. They're just aspirin. But that's the thing—they were wrapped in baggies like they were ready to sell, and the police wanted to know where I'd gotten them—and I could have said that I'd gotten them from Pedro Santistevan, who was hiring underage youngsters like myself to sell fake drugs, and I gave Pedro a call and let him know that, and we made a deal.”

“Just aspirin? But I was, like,
tripping
.”

Oso looked at me. “Whatever you felt, it was all you, bro.”

Huh. Wow.
Weird
.

“But hey,” he said. “I got a question for you. That story about the softball? I don't remember that. Did that really happen? Were we even in the same P.E. class?”

“Well, yeah, about that…” I looked at Oso's dark eyes. “
Technically
it was another guy—Lester something-or-other. Remember him? Everyone called him names?”

“The Choad, bro! Yeah, I remember him. So
he
was the guy who helped you around the bases?”

“Look—I couldn't just tell the judge that you stole Mindy Howland's gym shorts and gave them to me as a birthday present, now, could I?”

“Ha. I forgot about that.”

“Or how about when you got ahold of all the geography answers and you handed them out to
everyone
in the class—not just your friends?”

“That was a mistake. Nelly Avila ratted me out.”

“Or how about the time that guy who was supposed to buy beer for us ripped us off, and so you stole two forties by hiding them down your pants?”

Oso was grinning now. “I get it. My shit's too scandalous for a court of law.”

The days grew shorter, the nights longer and colder, and in the mornings I was woken to the sound of heavy machinery. They were clearing out Coyote Heights, bulldozing what was left into charred piles, hauling the piles off in big gray Peterbilt
®
dump trucks (YAY!). V-shaped formations of geese and other birds glided southward through the cold blue sky, but I knew now they were mostly just FUN
®
. Dad returned from his tour and took Bones. She was excited to see him, her old tail wagging back and forth.

I applied for a job washing dishes at Lucky Pedro's. That way I could at least start paying Dad and Evie back. I also decided to make good on my word to get my GED. There was this program where if you attended all the classes, they'd pay for the test. The classes were MWF evenings at the elementary school, and they weren't hard or anything, but it
was
hard to concentrate. One night I excused myself to the restroom and wandered out back to check out Katie's portable. Only it wasn't hers anymore. Her name was gone from the door, and when I looked inside, all her posters and fish tanks or whatever were gone.

I took the long way back to class, through the gym and past the library, where there were all these boxes stacked outside the door. Like piles and piles of them. And each box was labeled with the same word in black magic marker:
TRASH
. I looked inside one and it was filled with books. They all were. They were finally getting ready to digitize the library. It kind of bummed me out, I don't know why. Just the fact that the world keeps changing, I guess. I thought about that book my grandpa was always trying to get me to read,
True Tales of Buried Treasure
. I didn't feel like returning to class, so I wandered outside, and that's when I bumped into Evie.

“Hi. Dad said you had class.”

“Yeah. We're done for the night.”

“What were you thinking?” she said.

“Huh?”

“I mean just now. You had this funny look on your face.”

“I don't know—nothing really.”

“Well, here,” she said. “I brought you something. Brain food.”

She handed me a paper bag, the smell of baked goods wafting up through the creases in the top.

“What's the occasion?”

“Isaac asked me to move to New York with him.”

“Wow. What'd you say?”

“I told him I needed some time to think.”

“The cautious route. I bet he was pleased.”

My sister scowled in a smiley kind of way. “I like Isaac. But it's funny. I also like the life I have here.” She bit her lip. “What do you think? Am I just being a scaredy-cat?”

“Since when do you ask
me
for advice?”

“Since right now, I guess. I just want to know, is this one of those instances where, now that I'm finally faced with something I've wanted so badly for all these years, I'm too scared to take it?”

“I don't really know, Evie. I'm new at this. I mean—so what did Sam say?”

“Sam?” Evie sighed. “Oh
God
. When I told him, he broke down crying, and then
I
broke down crying, and then we put on our Christmas aprons and baked snickerdoodles.” She touched the paper bag. “Which, full disclosure, came out a little on the burnt side. But even so, there are some good ones in there, too. I put them on top.”

November came and it snowed, the first snow of winter—or, actually, I guess it was still technically autumn. Just a light snowfall, a few flakes falling out of the gray, but it lasted all day, and by evening everything was covered in white. White mountains, white hills, white Russian olive rising out of a hole in a field of white brush. The next day the sun came out, but it didn't get above freezing, and the snow stayed. That afternoon I got a call from my dad.

“It's Bones, Aaron. I found her under the back porch this morning.”

“What about her?”

“She's dead.”

“Dead? What happened?”

He was quiet a moment. “I don't know. She was old. She'd been through a lot. Maybe it was just her time. We're coming out there, me and Evie.”

“Here? Why?”

“To bury her.”

They showed up in Evie's CR-V, opened the back, and took out the bundle. She was wrapped up in a blanket.