Disclaimer: This fanfiction storywas written solely for the entertainment of the readers andis not for profit. Your mom carries the banner. No infringement on their respective copyrights are intended by the author in any way, shape or form. All original characters and plots are copyright of the author.
A/N: I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year, but I'm all blocked on that story, and this ended up coming out instead.
Chapter Two: We Are All Dust in the Wind
Buentiempo was hot. That's what I noticed first. It was past twilight, but I could still feel a dry, starchy heat all around me as I stepped off the bus at last. The trip had taken two days – two horrific, sleep-less, uncomfortable days. I'd spent most of the time writing in a little notebook I'd bought in St. Louis, but that got really old, really fast. You'd think my mom would've packed me something to do at least, but no…
And now I had to wait here until someone from the ranch came to pick me up. I sat down on a bench and dumped my duffel bag in the dust beside me. At least I was outside, right? Clean air… well, hot and dusty air… but still! Air!
I stretched my neck and looked up at the sky. The stars were brighter that I'd ever seen them before. I wondered if my friends back home were looking at the same stars for all of about two seconds. Then I remembered the light pollution in New York and gave that up.
I probably waited about twenty minutes before a car pulled up to the station. All the other passengers who'd been going from San Antonio to Buentiempo – all three of them – had since disappeared. A young woman stepped out of the car and looked around before her eyes landed on me.
"You're Helen's kid?" she called out in a slow drawl.
"Yeah," I said. I looked her up and down. She was cute, in a farm girl sort of way: blonde hair in two braids, scuffed jeans, and a cowboy hat. As she walked towards me, her boots clicked on the wood of the platform.
She reached me, and stuck out her hand. "I'm Andrea," she said. Her shake was firm and solid. I raised my pierced eyebrow in response.
"Chad," I said.
"Right. Chad," she repeated. "Well, c'mon, Chad, it's late. Gotta get you home. You need help with that?" she asked, gesturing to my duffel.
"No," I said, a little defensively. Who was she to ask if I needed help? I must have been half a foot taller than she was, if not more. I scowled at her a little before remembering that I'd be living in her parents' house for the next month. I softened the scowl to a frown.
"Okay," she said, smiling at me pleasantly. She stuck her hands in her pockets, and strolled back to the car, not waiting to see if I'd follow.
We drove in silence for a few minutes before I started feeling antsy. The car was noisy and cramped – not the ideal place for conversation – but it'd been two days since I talked to anyone except the bus driver and the ticket lady.
I asked her the first thing that came to mind. "So, Andrea. How old are you?"
She glanced at me. "Sixteen. How old are you?"
"Almost seventeen," I replied.
"So you're sixteen too," she said.
"Well… yeah." I stopped then, unable to think of a way to restart the conversation. I stared at the passing scenery – fields, a few cows, more fields, and more cows. I shifted uncomfortably. "Your parents are cool with you driving alone at night and stuff?"
"Yeah…" she said, looking at me like I'd asked if her parents were cool with her breathing.
"Oh. Okay." I nodded thoughtfully.
"Why? Your ma and pa don't let you drive alone at night?" She regarded me with a bemused smile.
I wasn't quite sure what to say – there were a variety of things I could've replied with, but in my head they all sounded incredibly weak.
"I don't drive," I said finally.
She gaped at me, and then turned back to the road quickly. "How do you get around, then?"
"I walk. Or take the subway."
"Oh. Well, we don't have any subways here. Just the bus. And that don't really go no place 'cept San Antonio and Beason's Ford. That's the next town over," she explained.
"So you just drive everywhere?"
"Ain't really much driving to be done, unless we're going to the neighbors or need somethin' special from town. We grow most of our own food," Andrea said.
"Don't you have… you know, like, friends? That you visit?" I asked.
"All my friends live on the ranch."
I paused. "Wait, like, the horses or whatever?"
"No! The people. There are people on a ranch," she said, explaining it like I was a retarded six-year-old.
Well, duh. I rolled my eyes. I was about to say something witty and scathingly sarcastic back at her when she stopped the car. "Are we here already?"
"Naw, this here is the town. We're gonna pick up some friends of mine."
So she really did have friends. I pondered that for a second until I realized she was getting out of the car. She didn't tell me to follow her or anything, but I figured I should get a sense of the town, so I got out and shuffled after her.
It was completely dark by now, but the moon was bright enough that we could see pretty clearly. I looked around me, taking in the sights, as it were.
Not that there was much to see. We had parked in front of a store that called itself John's Guns. It had a few rifles for display in the front window, but the store itself was totally dark. Next to John's Guns was what appeared to be a bakery – also dark – and on the other side of that was Steve's Auto Shop. Steve's Auto Shop had a couple lights on in the back. It was the only building I could see with more than one story, and I was pretty sure the second floor was used as Steve's Apartment.
"This here's Main Street," Andrea said. "You keep walking that aways for a short piece and you've got April Street, and then May Street. Those ain't nothing but houses, mostly. Past that's June Street, and past June Street is—"
"July Street?" I guessed.
"No, past June Street is Boyd Street," she replied, as though it were obvious.
"Right," I said. "So, which street do you live on?"
"Oh, we don't live in town," Andrea said. "We turn off at May Street and head a few miles there 'fore we get to the ranch." She looked in that direction like she could see it from where we were standing. Then she stuck her hands in her pockets, and started walking back the way we came. I followed.
Across the street were a few more shops – a women's clothing store (Joan's Clothes), a boot store (Clark's Boots), a feed store (Jay's Feed) – and then a bar, which was called Tom's Bar.
Andrea checked to see if I was behind her, and then walked in.
Now, I know that where I'm from, most bars don't let you just walk right in if you're a minor. I already knew that Andrea was a minor, and the last time I'd checked, I was too. And, of course, having been hustled off in a hurry, I hadn't thought to bring my fake ID.
Yes, I have a fake ID. Yes, I am that hardcore.
But there didn't appear to be a bouncer, or anyone remotely resembling a bouncer, and no one stopped Andrea from walking in, so I followed, and got the first inkling that this place might not be so bad after all. Now, if they'd let me buy a beer…
The bar itself was quiet and dark. Musky, bitter cigarette smoke hung in the air, along with the subtle scent of old fur. A country ballad was playing softly from a jukebox that looked straight out of the 1950s. The walls were decorated with a few flashing neon BEER-BEER-BEER signs, and black-and-white portraits of people on horses.
There was a bar with stools, which was deserted, and a few tables scattered at the other end of the room. A leather couch draped with what was possibly a bear, but could also have been a moose or a yak, dominated the farthest wall from the door, and it was there that Andrea headed.
The couch was occupied by three boys who were playing cards and drinking Coke out of glass bottles. Holy shit, this place was trippy.
"Hey boys," she said, and plopped down in a chair across from them.
Two of them nodded at her, too involved in their game of Go Fish, or Rummy, or whatever for a verbal response.
The third one, who appeared to be winning the game without trying, gave her a charming smile. "Hey, Andy." He was tall-ish, with large biceps, and dark-tinged skin.
She ruffled his curly hair, and peered at his cards. "Ooh, good hand," she said. Then she looked at me. "You ever played Texas Hold 'Em, Chad?"
As if on cue, they all turned to look at me for the first time, giving me a collective once-over that made it hard to suppress the human instinct to run for cover. So I did what I always do in situations where I'm in the spotlight – I made a bad joke.
"You guys call it Texas Hold 'Em here, too? Isn't that kind of redundant?" I attempted a smile that was probably more of a smirk, but was certainly well-intentioned.
"I never thought of that," said one of them. He had a button nose and a bowl haircut, and though his voice was deep and a little nasal, he looked about twelve.
"That's probably because you're stupid, Jake," said the third one. He elbowed Jake in the ribs, and the smiled at me. "You're Helen's kid?"
I nodded. Why were they all on a first name basis with my mom?
He stood up, and stretched out his hand. "Kelly. Jack Kelly. How d'you do?"
'How d'you do?' Who even says that anymore? I shook his hand, and nodded, since I had absolutely no idea how to respond.
The one who'd called Andrea 'Andy' stood up next, and gave me a handshake and a 'How d'you do?' and introduced himself as Malcolm Meyers.
"But we all call him Mush," Andrea said, grinning.
"No! Y'all do not call me Mush," Malcolm said. He rolled his eyes.
"Oh, but we do," responded Jack.
Jake, who was on the far end of the couch and couldn't reach my hand, just gave me a salute and a little "Howdy."
"So," Malcolm said, sitting back down and picking up his cards, "like you said a minute ago, yes – we do call it Texas Hold 'Em, though I s'pose you've got a point."
"Well, thanks," I said.
They all settled into their seats again, and I stood there for a minute, feeling out of place, until Andrea looked at me and said, "You can sit down, you know. If you want to."
"Right. Um. Right." I sat.
They dealt me into the next round, and offered me a Coke, which I accepted. I found myself thinking that I could almost learn to like these people, even if they did say weird stuff like 'How d'you do,' and lived on ranches, and grew their own food.
About half an hour passed before Jake yawned, and they all started to wrap things up.
Andrea stood up and stretched, her back cracking in about six places, and said, "Well, I guess we'd better head on home."
"Sure thing," Jack said. He gathered up the cards and put them back into their box.
Malcolm paid the bartender, and we all wandered outside.
The streets were entirely dark now, but the moon and the stars were shining so brightly that you could see everything anyway. And if you stood in the right place, you could see an unobstructed view all the way to the horizon. It was like being totally isolated, like how it must feel to stand on the moon, and look out into the great vastness of the universe and realize how very tiny you are. And as I looked out to that thin gray line in the distance and took in the stars, at the same time that it was desperately lonely, it also filled me with this sense of knowing exactly what it's like to be everyone else in the world. Because we're all small and insignificant, and in our own insignificance, we become something great and beautiful.
Cheesy, yeah, but looking at the stars that night in all their glory… it seemed true.
"Looks like our city friend is impressed by the view," Jack said, as we walked to Andrea's car.
I smiled sheepishly. "You don't get views like this in New York."
Jake waved goodbye to us and walked home – his dad ran the feed store, and he lived nearby on one of the streets with month names. Malcolm and Jack piled into the car with me and Andrea – Malcolm was the son of one of the families who helped run the ranch, and I assumed that Jack was too.
The drive back took longer than I'd expected. Malcolm and Andrea were chatting quietly about some horse or something, and Jack would interject something every now and then, but they were almost drowned out by the constant rattling of the car. I began to doze off, my cheek pressed against the window, still admiring the stars.
TBC.