“Like where?”
“I don’t know. There’s plenty of places. It’s better than sittin’ around here all day while Bru takes a nap and my mom goes on about how psychic she is.”
I thought about it. “How ’bout NAU? You can show me the stadium where you play.”
He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t feel like going up there today.”
There was something in his voice, but I didn’t push it. “All right. What about somewhere you do wanna go? I don’t know what’s around. You’re the one who’s been going to school up here. Surprise me.” I hoped he’d take it as a peace offering after last night.
Rusty mulled it over a minute and I waited, feeling the sun sink into me.
“I got a couple places,” he said finally. “Grab your bathing suit. And something to throw on after.”
21
Turned out driving around in Celia’s truck wasn’t all that different from driving around in the Pala. It had to be just as old, with its rounded red fenders and cab and dusty smell. And the lack of AC. We drove with the windows down, the radio up, and one arm each resting on the doors. Hot wind rushed through the cab, blowing my hair loose and wild, and it felt like freedom heading down the highway like that. Out my window, great peaks of rock, all sundrenched and windswept, rose in odd formations against an impossibly blue sky. On Rusty’s side, the rocks gave way to wide open country that ended at the horizon, where the sky met the red-orange earth like a giant dome pinned tight to the edges.
We sat across from each other on the bench seat, easy and relaxed in the way that reminded me of the long days of summer when you have nothing but time on your hands. I decided to try and keep it that way, because I wanted to hold on to the hopeful feeling I’d had at the vortex. It seemed like he had decided to do the same, because he didn’t mention anything about the previous night either, and we drove on in Celia’s old Chevy truck, with its radio that only picked up one country station, which was just fine with me.
“So, where’re we going?” I yelled over the wind and twangy guitar.
“Thought you wanted me to surprise you,” Rusty answered, just as loud.
I turned the radio down. “And when you tell me, I’ll be surprised.”
He didn’t answer. Just kept his eyes on the road and chewed his gum slowly, long enough to make me wonder if he’d heard me. “Swimmin’,” he said finally.
“Yeah, I got that part.” I snapped my bathing suit strap. “Just wondering where, is all.”
“Here,” Rusty said, slowing the truck. He turned us off the highway onto a narrow road marked CRESCENT MOON RANCH. We drove through a little kiosk with nobody in it to take any money, and continued down the road to a parking lot, where a few dusty cars were scattered. We parked off on our own and stepped out into the waves of heat rising off the asphalt. Rusty walked around to the back of the truck, but I stood a minute, taking in the view. Across a wide, grassy field, trees crowded together thick and green, in a meandering line I knew meant there was a creek. Maybe like the one we’d played in on summer days as kids. Beyond that was another mountain of rock so red it didn’t look like it could be real. I walked back to where Rusty was leaned into the truck bed, reaching for something. “How’d you know about this place? It’s so pretty.”
He grabbed a little cooler and a couple of towels. “A chick from school brought me down here once.” He smiled slow and to himself, and I knew there must be a story behind that one, but I didn’t need to hear it, so I didn’t bother asking what her name was.
I motioned at the cooler. “Any food in there, or is it just full of beer?”
“Lunch,” he answered, tucking the towels under one arm. Then he shook his head. “My mom sent it. Which means it probably ain’t edible.”
I laughed. “That was nice of her, anyhow.”
“Yep. You ready?” He stood there waiting for me to answer, looking almost sweet, if I didn’t know him so well. It set off a little ripple in my stomach that ended in a smile I tried to hide by looking away.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I said. “I need to cool off.”
The narrow dirt trail led us right down into the shade of the trees, where it was damp and fresh smelling, and cooler right away. I followed behind Rusty and every few seconds caught a glimpse of water sparkling out in the open, beneath the sun. Blackberry bushes spread out tangly and wild along our path, throwing splashes of deep purple into the green all around. And a little stream, deep with cool water, snaked its way alongside the trail, gurgling over rocks as it went.
“Almost there,” Rusty said over his shoulder. “Hopefully we’ll have it to ourselves.”
The stream widened as we walked a few more quiet steps, and Rusty stopped at a bridge of rocks someone had built across it. He hopped on the middle one, then to the other side, and waited for me to do the same before continuing down the path that I could see led down to a wide, lazy part of the main creek. Once I caught up to him, we took the last few steps together until we were standing at the edge of the perfect swimming hole.
The borders of the creek were shaded by hanging branches of trees, but in the middle, the sun shone right down into deep, blue-green water. An image of him and his ‘chick from school’ tangled together, laughing in the water, flashed in my mind for a second and I shook it away quick. Still. I couldn’t blame her, whoever she’d been. If he were a guy I liked and I was as brave as I wished I was, that’s what I might bring him here to do. . . . I pushed that thought from my head just as fast. What was wrong with me?