Somewhere

Chapter Three

The next morning, I woke up and my neck still ached. I sat with my forehead on the kitchen table and an ice pack draped over my skin. I had a headache too, but that wasn't from the game of spin the dreidel Cooper played with his car last night. No. My dad was laughing loud enough to rattle the dishes.

"I don't approve of this." My mother's frown deepened while dad jumped up to grab the kitchen phone, an old mint green one with the spiral extension cord and everything.

"Wait till I shove it McKinley's face my boy got out of the party before the cops showed up and his dimwit son is probably crying in the corner of a jail cell."

I knew when my dad's smile was genuine when I could see his dimples. My dad was built short, but thick like a tree and with arms and muscles that could probably rip one out of the ground, roots and all. There was scruff around his chin and there was a nest of black hair hidden beneath his Oklahoma Sooners cap.

From the window, Nani used her paint brushes to hold the curtain open. "Nataly Peirce is going home the back way through our yard, heels in hand. Hm. So, kids still wear sequins, huh?"

Some dried paint had cemented to her copper colored skin and splattered across her gray apron after working all morning. When she moved from New Delhi to here in Somewhere, she came to meet her husband, but instead of growing interested in him, she found a love of art. I doubted that they ever got a divorce, even though I had never met the guy.

"Stop it." Mom sighed. She tied her thick wavy hair up on top of her head. "All of you," she spoke as if it were a royal decree with my mother's cool tone. She was the younger version of Nani with her bird-like nose and heavy eyes.

People always assumed I was completely Mexican because of my dad, because of my skin, and because of our last name Rivera, but I felt guilty for not vocalizing the Indian in me as if I was doing Nani or my mom a disservice. Like I needed to show my family tree to people or come to parties wearing a Kurta and churidars.

"Damn." Dad huffed, slamming the phone. "Voicemail. Guess I'll have to make a visit." He left through the kitchen's screen door that rattled back into place. The shrieking hinges made my mother and I flinch. She took my ice pack, leaned back, and laid it over her eyes.

I didn't fight for it, the painkillers were finally kicking in. My phone buzzed on the table and while a name didn't show up, I knew the area code. "Hello?" I bowed out of the room towards the front porch, walking onto our gravel road.

Our house sat on an old field, where yards of wheat used to grow, but it was reduced to a meager field that I used to play in. My parents only owned enough chickens, enough small crops to sustain ourselves while my mother taught third graders and my father owned a landscaping business.

A horde of chickens scurried by, kicking up the dirt behind them as a robotic voice spoke, "A person from the Cobb County Police Station is attempting to reach you. Will you accept the phone charges?"

Sheer panic answered for me, "Uh, yes. Yes, of course."

The line sounded like it clicked off before a long wavering dial tone tortured my patience. Gibson's voice made me jump. "Sam! Oh man, Sam! I'm gonna be in so much trouble!"

"You got caught?" I asked in a hush, hurrying off the porch so lingering ears wouldn't pick up the conversation. Nani might laugh herself into a conniption and give herself a heart attack to hear that Gibson was arrested.

"Yes, Captain Obvious I did and I need you to come get me!"

"What?" I shouted, scaring an egg out of a hen. I walked further down our dirt road, checking my pockets for my keys, my phone, and my wallet. It was all there, and it wasn't like I was going to say no to Gibson. I've agreed to so many stupid ideas, I should tattoo the word "welcome" over my forehead to invite others to walk all over me.