Shifting

Shifting Page 25

I groaned. He was all of those things. But something more.

“You need to ask Naalyehe about his family,” she said, and strode off with her refilled drinks.

When the evening turned to night and all the customers had gone home, I went to the kitchen.

“Naalyehe?” He looked at me. “Yana says you know the O’Connell family. She said I should ask you about them.”

Naalyehe frowned. He turned his back to me and began chopping. All right. Guess he wasn’t big on gossip. I turned toward the dining room but stopped, straining my ears. Because it sounded like he said something. Maybe my imagination was going wild?

“Never be out past dark with Bridger O’Connell,” he said again. Nope. My imagination wasn’t going wild. Was he joking?

Totally confused, I went back to the dining room, pondering Naalyehe’s warning.

“You’ll never guess who’s here,” Yana said, voice full of sarcasm. I glanced around the empty dining room. “Speak of the devil and he appears.” She nodded toward the window. A big black SUV was parked out front with its parking lights on.

My heart thrummed beneath my ribs and I wasn’t sure if it was the effect of Naalyehe’s warning or Bridger’s appearance.

“I’ll finish up—you go on,” she said. “Don’t want to keep O’Connell waiting. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I crossed my arms and stood beside the door, Naalyehe’s warning hovering in my brain. The window came down and Bridger peered at me from the dark car interior. His car smelled just like him. I took a deep breath.

“So, are you getting in?” he asked. And smiled. A smile that instantly overrode Naalyehe’s warning. What harm could a ride home do? I returned Bridger’s smile. He leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the lamp-lit sidewalk, then back at Bridger, and climbed into his car.

“Does Naalyehe know you walk home at night?” he asked, putting the car into drive.

“No. Why?”

“He’s Navajo. Traditional Navajo. He’s got superstitions about the dark.”

That’s not the only thing he’s got superstitions about. “How do you know?” I asked.

“He’s my dad’s third cousin.”

“Really?” That bit of info made Naalyehe’s warning even more bizarre.

“Is something bothering you?” Bridger asked.

“Um … yeah. If you’re Navajo, you’re not very tan.” I lied. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what Naalyehe had said. “At least not compared to Naalyehe and Yana.”

Bridger laughed. “I’m also part Irish. And English. But believe me, I’m more Navajo than anything else. My great-grandpa …”

His words lost meaning. I pressed my face to the window. A man stood on the side of the moonlit road. He was staring at Bridger’s car with eyes that glowed like an animal’s. The stoplight changed and Bridger eased the car forward. I squeezed my eyes shut and a warm hand came down on the back of my neck under my hair.

“Maggie, what’s wrong?”

“Did you see that guy?” My voice trembled.

Bridger slowed the car.

“No! Don’t stop!” I peered out the window again, but the sidewalk was empty.

“What did you see?” Bridger asked, kneading the muscles in my neck.

I studied his shadowed profile. “There was a guy standing over there. And his eyes glowed.”

“His eyes glowed?”

“Yeah. Like an animal’s.”

Bridger laughed. “You must have imagined it.”

“Gee. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He took his hand from my neck, trailed it down my arm, and found my hand. His warm fingers intertwined with mine. Instead of pulling away—my first instinct—I held on. “So what other nights do you work this week? I’ll pick you up.”

“Wednesday and Saturday, but Saturday I get off early for graduation.”

“What are you doing after graduation? Wanna hang out?”

I looked at him. His hand tightened on mine, and my heart seemed to grow inside of my chest, pressing against my throat and making it impossible to talk.

“You know what hanging out is, right?” he said. “We could get hamburgers and fries and hang out at the mine. I’ll bring my telescope and we can look at the stars.”

“Yeah. That sounds … nice.”

“Really?” he asked, glancing at me. “I don’t have to talk you into hanging out with me this time?”

I shrugged. “I guess not.”

We pulled into Mrs. Carpenter’s driveway and Bridger stopped in front of the porch. He let go of my hand and turned off the car. And unhooked his seat belt. He turned to me, where I sat frozen in my seat, my eyes glued to the windshield. “Maggie.”

I licked my lips and looked at him. And practically had a heart attack when his phone rang, shattering the moment.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at it. “I’ve got to take this,” he said and answered. “Hi, Dad.”

I unhooked my seat belt and put my hand on the door handle.

“What? Right now? At this very moment?” Bridger said, glancing at me, his eyes uncertain. “No, I am excited. That’s great. I’m on my way home right now.… What am I doing out at this hour on a school night? Just out running an errand.… Yeah, a late errand. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. “Hey, sorry about that. About Wednesday—my family’s home. I’m not going to be able to pick you up.”

“That’s okay,” I said, struggling not to feel disappointed. I opened my door and got out, and he pulled out of the driveway before I had Mrs. Carpenter’s front door open.

19

Bridger was different at school the next day—nice as always, but nothing more. It lasted all week.

Saturday came. I worked my butt off at the Navajo Mexican, and when my shift ended, I got a ride home from Yana.

“See you tonight,” I said as I climbed out of her car.

“Yep. No more homework, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks. Ever!” Yana waved and drove down the driveway.

My aching feet thumped on the front porch. I stepped through the front door and my mouth started watering.

“Surprise!” Mrs. Carpenter said, spreading her arms toward a table covered with way more food than she and I could eat in one sitting. In the middle of the table sat a giant cake with thick chocolate frosting. “Thought I’d whip up something special for your graduation,” she said, laughing. “I even called Bridger to see if he’d come and help us eat, but he said he already had dinner plans.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “That boy doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

After dinner, I put on my—thanks to Mrs. Carpenter—freshly ironed white graduation gown, brushed through my hair, and touched up my makeup. Then I was ready to go.

The dogs were restless, whining from inside the barn and scratching at the door as we walked to the truck.

“It’s just us,” Mrs. Carpenter called. Shash yelped and scratched the door again. Duke howled, a hoarse, guttural sound that had me peering warily toward the edge of the property. “I swear. Those dogs have taken to you like you’re their alpha.” She looked at me sidelong. “Speaking of dogs, tomorrow is the full moon. What can I do to help?”

“Lock me in the barn,” I said, wiping sudden tears from under my eyes before they could ruin my fresh makeup. I had help. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t doing this alone. And it felt amazing.

We got into the truck and drove to Silver High. The school parking lot was packed, every space taken. We parallel parked two blocks away, in front of a stucco house with a cactus growing in the yard, and arrived at the ceremony five minutes early.

“You can go home after the ceremony,” I said as Mrs. Carpenter and I walked toward the outdoor bleachers.

“You have plans?” she asked, a gleam in her eyes.

“Yeah. Bridger and I are going out for hamburgers.” I couldn’t help but smile as I said the words.

She grinned and started humming. “You have fun,” she said. “And speaking of Bridger, why don’t I take a picture of the two of you in your gowns?”

I blushed and nodded.

We made our way to the O section of students, and Bridger stood out like a tree among shrubs. “My goodness, Bridger looks handsome in traditional Navajo garb. That’s what Navajo men wear for formal ceremonies,” Mrs. Carpenter explained, looking him up and down.

He wasn’t wearing the navy-blue graduation gown all the other guys wore. And he wasn’t alone. A stunning girl with silky black hair, an oversized leather shirt with fringe, skintight jeans, and high-heel boots was tugging his head forward. She ran her black-polished nails through his hair, and then slipped a red headband around his head so it fit snugly on his forehead. Next she adjusted the shoulders of his bright blue velvet shirt, then fiddled with the chains of turquoise hanging around his neck. Bridger’s eyes flickered to me and he winked.

The girl must have seen it. She turned and looked at me, her ice-blue eyes wild with curiosity.

I stood where I was, frozen with confusion, staring. Someone bumped me and a warm hand clasped my elbow.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice said. I turned and looked into a pair of dark, semifamiliar eyes. The man continued past me, a blond woman dressed in a suit-dress at his side, and stopped beside Bridger and the girl. The man took a palm-sized camera from his suit pocket and snapped a photo of Bridger and the girl.

“Go on over there,” Mrs. Carpenter said, nudging me forward. Bridger grinned at me and motioned me over.

“Hey,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I want you to meet my family. This is my sister, Katie.” He nodded to the girl with slick black hair.