Read Online Dorothea Dreams (Heirloom Books) by Suzy McKee Charnas - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzy McKee Charnas
Ads: Link
sand and wrestling prickly trees and bushes for the landscaping company.
“It beats hanging around being bored all summer,” Bobbie said. “Or working at some crappy job.” Quickly he added, “I mean, like the jobs they give kids, if you can get them — they’re all pretty bad.”
Roberto said nothing. He never talked about his work with Bobbie. Bobbie might say the wrong thing, and they’d have a fight, and there’d be no more rides on the bike.
Roberto tossed a stone into the canyon. It clicked on the boulders all the way down. Beyond the canyon the land sloped swiftly down to the murmuring spread of Albuquerque with the dark meander of trees along the Rio Grande winding down the heart of it, parallel to this long, crumbling mountain that formed the eastern boundary of the city.
“Some of the guys are okay,” Bobbie continued, back on the safe topic of this fancy school of his. “There’s some foxy chicks in my class, too.”
“Stuck-up gringas,” Roberto sneered. “Fuck ’em.”
“Some,” Bobbie said, turning red.
“Don’t give me that shit, man,” Roberto hooted. “Only thing you sleep with is that bike of yours, I bet.” That was another thing: it wasn’t so easy to find girls when you were out of school, except the retards, the pigs laying around in wait to marry a “father” for some other dude’s kid.
He prodded his crumpled beer can with the toe of his boot. The can slid off the rock and clanked faintly down into a clump of brush where it hung, gleaming in the brilliant sunlight.
“How many cans you think it would take to fill up this whole canyon?” he said. “We should go to one of those recycling dumps and load up a whole lot of cans in a truck, shit, a plane, and come bomb those cans down, let them loose. Wham! No more canyon, everybody jumps out of bed yelling, ‘Hey, what was that? Earthquake!’”
Bobbie said, “You can get money for those things.”
Shit, he’d gotten yellow living in the Heights, yellow and prissy. Won’t even come down for the street-closing next week, too busy filling a garbage bag with cans to help keep his neighborhood clean.
“Penny-a-can, garbage man,” Roberto sang, pushing Bobbie’s shoulder. “What’s the matter, litterbug bit you? I got a right, man. There’s nothing here that didn’t belong to us first. Why they call this Juan Tabo Canyon, after some damn Anglo, you think? Just because those fuckers put a fence around half the mesa and say it’s theirs!
“Now if it had of been me, I’d have snuck up the canyon with a rifle and when the sheriff came to throw me off my land, I’d shoot hell out of them all, blow them away into the sunset, blam, blam!” he yelled, sighting along the barrel of an imaginary gun. “Boom! Blow their brains out, ka-pow, ka-pow, Dirty Harry, get them all!”
He stopped, embarrassed to be playing shoot-out like a little kid.
“Your land?” Bobbie said. “Hey, bro, you’re a city kid, just like me. If this land was yours now, all you’d know is to subdivide it, just like they do.”
“What if I did?”
“I’ve got to go to class pretty soon,” Bobbie said, getting up. He looked at his watch. “Damn, I’m going to be late! Look, I don’t have time to drop you back at Pinto Street first.”
Roberto got up too, brushing the dust from the seat of his jeans. “Okay, just leave me off where I can thumb a ride.” Shit. You’d think with that fancy watch of his, Bobbie could keep track of time better — Anglo time.
Already starting down the steep back-slope, Bobbie turned. “listen, bro, why don’t you come to class with me? It’s only drawing, everybody’s pretty terrible at it, and you don’t have to know anything much. I’ll run you home after.”
“Shit, no, man, I’m allergic to school.”
“This is different, I told you.”
“It’s all the same.”
Bobbie stepped back, elaborately casual. “You’re not scared, are you? Come on, man. I’ll come down to help
“It beats hanging around being bored all summer,” Bobbie said. “Or working at some crappy job.” Quickly he added, “I mean, like the jobs they give kids, if you can get them — they’re all pretty bad.”
Roberto said nothing. He never talked about his work with Bobbie. Bobbie might say the wrong thing, and they’d have a fight, and there’d be no more rides on the bike.
Roberto tossed a stone into the canyon. It clicked on the boulders all the way down. Beyond the canyon the land sloped swiftly down to the murmuring spread of Albuquerque with the dark meander of trees along the Rio Grande winding down the heart of it, parallel to this long, crumbling mountain that formed the eastern boundary of the city.
“Some of the guys are okay,” Bobbie continued, back on the safe topic of this fancy school of his. “There’s some foxy chicks in my class, too.”
“Stuck-up gringas,” Roberto sneered. “Fuck ’em.”
“Some,” Bobbie said, turning red.
“Don’t give me that shit, man,” Roberto hooted. “Only thing you sleep with is that bike of yours, I bet.” That was another thing: it wasn’t so easy to find girls when you were out of school, except the retards, the pigs laying around in wait to marry a “father” for some other dude’s kid.
He prodded his crumpled beer can with the toe of his boot. The can slid off the rock and clanked faintly down into a clump of brush where it hung, gleaming in the brilliant sunlight.
“How many cans you think it would take to fill up this whole canyon?” he said. “We should go to one of those recycling dumps and load up a whole lot of cans in a truck, shit, a plane, and come bomb those cans down, let them loose. Wham! No more canyon, everybody jumps out of bed yelling, ‘Hey, what was that? Earthquake!’”
Bobbie said, “You can get money for those things.”
Shit, he’d gotten yellow living in the Heights, yellow and prissy. Won’t even come down for the street-closing next week, too busy filling a garbage bag with cans to help keep his neighborhood clean.
“Penny-a-can, garbage man,” Roberto sang, pushing Bobbie’s shoulder. “What’s the matter, litterbug bit you? I got a right, man. There’s nothing here that didn’t belong to us first. Why they call this Juan Tabo Canyon, after some damn Anglo, you think? Just because those fuckers put a fence around half the mesa and say it’s theirs!
“Now if it had of been me, I’d have snuck up the canyon with a rifle and when the sheriff came to throw me off my land, I’d shoot hell out of them all, blow them away into the sunset, blam, blam!” he yelled, sighting along the barrel of an imaginary gun. “Boom! Blow their brains out, ka-pow, ka-pow, Dirty Harry, get them all!”
He stopped, embarrassed to be playing shoot-out like a little kid.
“Your land?” Bobbie said. “Hey, bro, you’re a city kid, just like me. If this land was yours now, all you’d know is to subdivide it, just like they do.”
“What if I did?”
“I’ve got to go to class pretty soon,” Bobbie said, getting up. He looked at his watch. “Damn, I’m going to be late! Look, I don’t have time to drop you back at Pinto Street first.”
Roberto got up too, brushing the dust from the seat of his jeans. “Okay, just leave me off where I can thumb a ride.” Shit. You’d think with that fancy watch of his, Bobbie could keep track of time better — Anglo time.
Already starting down the steep back-slope, Bobbie turned. “listen, bro, why don’t you come to class with me? It’s only drawing, everybody’s pretty terrible at it, and you don’t have to know anything much. I’ll run you home after.”
“Shit, no, man, I’m allergic to school.”
“This is different, I told you.”
“It’s all the same.”
Bobbie stepped back, elaborately casual. “You’re not scared, are you? Come on, man. I’ll come down to help
Similar Books
