Avel reminded.
“Not
still
,” I said. “That was months ago.”
“We can still tell on ya. For all the times we saw you sneaking out.”
I stared them down. It seemed my duty to pretend to believe they’d actually rat me out. “Well,
stink
me,” I said, and they burst into fits. They were so easy; all I had to do was say the sort of thing neither of my parents would ever say and my brothers would practically pee themselves.
“So, let’s hear it. What do you want?” I put my hand on my hips.
“Double servings of ice cream, and we walk to the river,” Avel said.
“Is that all you got? So lame,” I said.
“Ice cream
while
we walk.” Favian upped the ante.
So after Momma and Bampas went out, I made fudge parfaits in the fluted-glass dishes, just to give the boys a sense of living dangerously. Avel strapped one of those spelunker’s lamps on his head, “So I’m hands-free for the parfait,” he said.
“Yeah, well, we’re coming back before dark,” I warned. “This is dessert and a sunset. Not a walk under the moon.”
Then, because they insisted on it, we all climbed out my bedroom window instead of using the back door. We headed through the garden and spooned ice cream as we walked the swath to the river.
I thought about stopping my brothers before River Road, but then found myself following them across to the riverbank. They headed down the wooden stairs, then off to play at the water’s edge.
“Just a little while, you guys. The sun drops fast now. Try not to muddy up your shoes,” I added. I made a mental note to hose them off before we went back into the house.
I sat down on the last, weathered step next to a pair of empty parfait dishes. I hugged my knees. My father’s piece of riverfront had a scary, abandoned feel to it, even while a gorgeous, pink sun melted on its waters. Off and away, upriverand down, were homes that actually celebrated having waterfront. The gardens and patios seemed to reach toward the river and frame the view. But Bampas’s stretch was long and empty. Not welcoming. Or maybe it was just me. He’d never brought me to the bank the way he’d brought the boys. They were used to it here, with their boats and skipping rocks. For me, the mud and stained grasses made it look like a place where you could lose something, or someone—the slip-in-and-never-be-found-again part of the river.
“Hey, boys!” I leaned forward to see along the bank. Fave and Ave were pushing sticks into the mud at the shore about a hundred feet away from me. “Back this way! Now!” They hopped a few steps toward me. I gave them a few more minutes to play.
I was the first one back up the stairs. I held three parfait glasses with spoons clanking inside of them tucked against my chest with one arm. We stopped at the edge of the road, checked traffic, which was never much. Yet, sure enough, a pickup truck was coming. A glint of pink sun popped off the chrome. I could tell by the way it was slowing down that the driver could see us and would probably wait for us to cross.
“Hold on. Let’s make sure we’re safe. . . .” I warned the boys.
“We know, we know. . . .” Favian complained.
The truck came closer and closer, then stopped in frontof us like a school bus coming in for a pickup. Instead of a door folding open, a window rolled down. My heart spread beneath my ribs. I broke into a grin.
“Well, what are the chances?” Cowboy said—in a voice that could melt butter. He hung an arm out and drummed the side of the truck with his fingers.
“Hey,” I said back. “Where are you coming from?”
“A sunset.”
Apparently alone, I could not help noting.
“And what are you doing out here?” he asked.
“We took a walk,” I said. “And same as you. The sunset.” I glanced at my brothers, all round-eyed and curious, and maybe even nervous in that don’t-talk-to-strangers way. I felt Avel take hold of the back hem of my hoodie. I rubbed my hand over his head to let
“Not
still
,” I said. “That was months ago.”
“We can still tell on ya. For all the times we saw you sneaking out.”
I stared them down. It seemed my duty to pretend to believe they’d actually rat me out. “Well,
stink
me,” I said, and they burst into fits. They were so easy; all I had to do was say the sort of thing neither of my parents would ever say and my brothers would practically pee themselves.
“So, let’s hear it. What do you want?” I put my hand on my hips.
“Double servings of ice cream, and we walk to the river,” Avel said.
“Is that all you got? So lame,” I said.
“Ice cream
while
we walk.” Favian upped the ante.
So after Momma and Bampas went out, I made fudge parfaits in the fluted-glass dishes, just to give the boys a sense of living dangerously. Avel strapped one of those spelunker’s lamps on his head, “So I’m hands-free for the parfait,” he said.
“Yeah, well, we’re coming back before dark,” I warned. “This is dessert and a sunset. Not a walk under the moon.”
Then, because they insisted on it, we all climbed out my bedroom window instead of using the back door. We headed through the garden and spooned ice cream as we walked the swath to the river.
I thought about stopping my brothers before River Road, but then found myself following them across to the riverbank. They headed down the wooden stairs, then off to play at the water’s edge.
“Just a little while, you guys. The sun drops fast now. Try not to muddy up your shoes,” I added. I made a mental note to hose them off before we went back into the house.
I sat down on the last, weathered step next to a pair of empty parfait dishes. I hugged my knees. My father’s piece of riverfront had a scary, abandoned feel to it, even while a gorgeous, pink sun melted on its waters. Off and away, upriverand down, were homes that actually celebrated having waterfront. The gardens and patios seemed to reach toward the river and frame the view. But Bampas’s stretch was long and empty. Not welcoming. Or maybe it was just me. He’d never brought me to the bank the way he’d brought the boys. They were used to it here, with their boats and skipping rocks. For me, the mud and stained grasses made it look like a place where you could lose something, or someone—the slip-in-and-never-be-found-again part of the river.
“Hey, boys!” I leaned forward to see along the bank. Fave and Ave were pushing sticks into the mud at the shore about a hundred feet away from me. “Back this way! Now!” They hopped a few steps toward me. I gave them a few more minutes to play.
I was the first one back up the stairs. I held three parfait glasses with spoons clanking inside of them tucked against my chest with one arm. We stopped at the edge of the road, checked traffic, which was never much. Yet, sure enough, a pickup truck was coming. A glint of pink sun popped off the chrome. I could tell by the way it was slowing down that the driver could see us and would probably wait for us to cross.
“Hold on. Let’s make sure we’re safe. . . .” I warned the boys.
“We know, we know. . . .” Favian complained.
The truck came closer and closer, then stopped in frontof us like a school bus coming in for a pickup. Instead of a door folding open, a window rolled down. My heart spread beneath my ribs. I broke into a grin.
“Well, what are the chances?” Cowboy said—in a voice that could melt butter. He hung an arm out and drummed the side of the truck with his fingers.
“Hey,” I said back. “Where are you coming from?”
“A sunset.”
Apparently alone, I could not help noting.
“And what are you doing out here?” he asked.
“We took a walk,” I said. “And same as you. The sunset.” I glanced at my brothers, all round-eyed and curious, and maybe even nervous in that don’t-talk-to-strangers way. I felt Avel take hold of the back hem of my hoodie. I rubbed my hand over his head to let
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