Set Me Free (19 page)

Lydia had been to parties here five or six times over the course of the summer. It was not an Always-Party place, because
some of the kids—those adept at buying cheap beer and making well-placed phone calls—were afraid that word would spread and
unwanted kids would show up. We all know them. The dorks. The goody-goodies. Had Lydia not been at Amelia’s side, vouching
for her, Amelia definitely would have been considered an unwanted. She had been to only one of these parties. I have already
told you that she was not prone to participating in the other kids’ activities, and it was a catch-22: the less she did with
them because she felt too different, the more different she became in their eyes. She knew this. But she did not know how
to change it. There were all sorts of reasons she hadn’t participated. At first it had been about her father: she hated the
disappointment in his eyes when he found out she’d done something disobedient. She knew this disappointment wouldn’t kill
him, but she also knew that Elliot Barrow was a far easier man to keep happy than to pick up from the sad, unreachable place
he was willing to go. So she stayed close to him, like a calf sheltered from the storm under the limbs of a shade tree.

But there was something more, and by this point in her life, Amelia knew it. She was a coward. Leaving Benson Country Day—running
away, more like it—just proved it. And though she was furious at her father for not telling her about Helen’s existence or
impending visit, Amelia understood how easy it was to keep unpleasant truths to yourself, praying all the time that people
would never find out about them and, if they did, that they’d have the sense to forgive you. Under the same circumstances,
she would have been capable of doing exactly the same thing her dad had done.

Which was why jumping into Lydia’s car and gunning into the distance was such a big deal. As they got closer and closer to
Where-We-Have-the-Parties, Lydia was talking a mile a minute. Amelia’s doubts became second thoughts.

“Seriously, if Victor is there, you are
going
to talk to him. I mean, he’s definitely going to be there, but if, like, his grandmother won’t let him leave the house or
something… But don’t worry. He’ll be there, and you’ll talk to him and… Oh my
God,
I’m so excited you’re coming with me!” Amelia nodded once, and Lydia caught the drift. “There is absolutely no reason to
be nervous. You’re with me. Everyone loves me.”

Amelia sat quietly, refusing to smile, to laugh, to be swept up in Lydia’s enthusiasm.

“Okay.” Lydia slowed the car and pulled to the side of the gravel road. Rocks ticked up loudly against the underbelly of the
car. “What the fuck is up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Nothing.’ Do not tell me you are feeling guilty.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You
are,
aren’t you? You’re feeling guilty. Don’t do this to me, Amelia. Seriously, please do not do this.”

“I’m not doing anything, Lydia.”

“Yes, you are. You are taking our one night of fun, just about
ever,
and turning it into a gloomfest.”

” ‘Gloomfest’ isn’t even a word.”

“C’mon. You love your dad because, yes, he’s a good guy—we all know that—which is why it’s so terrible that he just lied to
you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when people start lying to you, you stop trusting them. That’s how things
work.”

“He wasn’t lying—”

“Not telling your daughter that you have an ex-wife is lying, no matter how you try to whitewash things. Your father is the
master of whitewashing. He would beat Tom Sawyer at his game.” Lydia nudged Amelia in the ribs, smiling. “Oh, come on, I don’t
even get one smile for my completely unprompted literary reference, proving that I’ve already done my reading for Monday?
You know: Tom Sawyer, the white paint, the fence?” When Amelia didn’t respond, Lydia groaned and leaned back against the headrest.
“Jesus, you really are a downer tonight.”

Amelia shrugged and pressed her cheek against the side window. The night was fully dark now, and a car full of partying kids
came up fast behind them out of nowhere, then slowed when they noticed the red glow of Lydia’s brake lights. The other car’s
windows were down, and the smell of cigarettes and the sound of the Stones blasted from it.

“You coming or what?” Alex Speakseasy leaned out the car window and handed Lydia an open beer.

“Yeah, we’re coming.”

Alex leaned farther into the night, peering around Lydia, until he made out Amelia’s face. He jerked his head quickly when
he saw her, unable to hide his surprise. “I thought you were alone,” he said, retreating into the car.

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

“Cool, cool,” he said, nodding. “See you.” And they were off.

“You see?” said Amelia when the night was again dark.

“Don’t pay attention to those assholes,” Lydia said. “They don’t know you.” She took a swig from the beer and handed it to
Amelia, pressing on the accelerator. The car lurched forward, gaining speed. “And they
won’t
know you unless we get to the fucking party already. I command you to be in a good mood.”

V
ICTOR
L
ITTLE FOOT WAS
at the party, but he was surrounded by the familiar entourage of admirers. Girls leaned against his pickup, guzzling beer
from bottles, giggling, telling stories on themselves. Boys stood a few yards away, spitting, recounting basketball plays
just loud enough so Victor could hear the bravado in their voices.

“This is bullshit,” said Lydia, after she’d gotten a beer into Amelia’s hand. “We should just go talk to him. Those girls
are nothing but bitches and hos.”

“Do you have to talk like your brothers?”

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. Why? You’ve got a fucking problem with the goddamn way I talk?”

Amelia raised her eyebrows and downed a gulp of Miller Lite. It was watery and lukewarm. The stuff that Sadie and Wes drank
was high-end, microbrewed, and ice-cold.

“I’m glad to see you drinking. To be perfectly honest, I thought that was going to be the hardest part, getting you to even
hold a beer in your hand.”

“I drink.”

Lydia smiled. “So I guess some things
did
change while you were
in Portland.” There was a twinge of pride in her voice. She grabbed Amelia’s hand, and before Amelia could resist, they were
heading in Victor’s direction.

“Hey hey hey! The party has begun!” Lydia said. They were too close for Amelia to pull away.

“What’s
she
doing here?”

“You got a fucking problem with my best friend, asshead?” Lydia was in Johnny Courrament’s face in a split second. All the
boys laughed.

“No problem, no problem,” Johnny said, backing up. “Great that you could make it,” he said to Amelia, bowing low. The boys
laughed louder.

“I’m watching you,” said Lydia, her finger still in the air. Johnny and some of the boys sauntered in the direction of the
bonfire. “I’m keeping my eye on you. I beat you up when we were ten, and I can still take you, and you fucking know it!”

“I don’t think threatening to beat people up is the best way to go, Lydia.” Amelia spoke in a low voice.

“The only way to talk to these kids is to let them know where you stand.”

“I know how to talk to them. I’ve known them my whole life, just like you.”

“Yeah?” Lydia put a hand on her hip. “And how many friends do you have?”

“Just don’t be so aggressive, okay? Settle down.”

“If you want me to settle down, you better start learning how to defend yourself.” Lydia launched farther in Victor’s direction.

Soon they were sidled against the crush of girls flirting with Victor. He was barely visible through the thicket of teased
hair, flailing arms, and suggestive laughter, and Amelia felt stupid standing there. But she made conversation—at least girls
pretended they liked you when they didn’t—and kept Victor in the corner of her eye. She saw an opening, but just then another
car pulled up. The kids inside it beckoned Victor over. Lydia put her
arm on Amelia’s shoulder as he disappeared into the backseat. “We need more beer,” she said, and Amelia was inclined to agree.

H
OURS PASSED.
T
HE
desert air cooled. Most of the children pulled comforters and heavy jackets out of the trunks of their cars, and the bonfire
grew bigger and bigger. Because there was nothing in the vicinity to burn, it was always someone’s job to load a pickup with
downed limbs and branches from the forest on reservation land. Because Lydia had sauntered off with her arms around her sometime
boyfriend, Bobby Marron, long before the moon had set, and because there was no one else to talk to, and because Victor too
had last been seen heading into the wilderness with a girl on each arm, Amelia assigned herself the task of fire duty. She
was wrapped in a ratty wool blanket, her face toward the flames, next to the unloaded wood. Every ten minutes or so, she’d
reach onto the waning pile of logs and disentangle a branch, then fling it into the fire. Sparks would fly up toward the stars
and vanish. All around her, people were talking, laughing, kissing in the glow of the fire. She pulled the blanket tighter.

“Hey.”

You knew he was going to show up, didn’t you? Of course he was. Amelia was the only one who didn’t know.

Amelia was surprised to hear a voice so close. She turned toward its source and blanched when she saw that it was Victor.“Hey,”
she said, glancing back at the fire. He was so near she could have touched him. She was glad for the blanket.

“Great fire.”

“Thanks.” As if it were hers.

Silence. Then Victor reached across her, brushing her leg through all those layers of cloth. She felt herself blushing and
was thankful for the darkness. He lifted one of the branches off the pile and brought it back to his lap. The branch chafed
against the blanket as it crossed her. He started peeling off its bark. Amelia pulled
her knees to her chest and buried her chin against them. This was not happening.

“You having fun?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He shrugged and threw a piece of bark onto the flames. It popped against the heat. “You know,” he said.

“Yeah.” She did not know.

“Are the parties always like this?”

Here was a moment when she could have been honest. But “I don’t know because I’ve only had the balls to go to one party before,
and that was two years ago” didn’t have the same ring as something effortlessly cool. She tried to untangle what that effortlessly
cool thing would be, but she was tongue-tied. “You know,” she echoed. She did not know.

“Ah.” They listened to the fire crackling. “Is that girl Lydia your best friend?”

Amelia nodded. “She comes on a little strong.”

“She kind of freaks me out,” he said, and because there was humor in his voice, Amelia felt brave enough to look at him. His
eyes crinkled and he started to laugh, and then she was laughing too.

“You’re taller than I thought you’d be,” he said when their laughter had died down.

“That’s weird,” she said, trying not to think about the fact that he’d been thinking about her and was willing to admit it.
“Then again, you were always really tall. So you probably thought I was a short kid even though I wasn’t.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking up at the stars. “I was always taller than you.” He threw another piece of bark on the fire. “When
was the last time we saw each other?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Sometime when I was seven and you were eight. Before you moved to Chicago.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I just wondered if you knew exactly when.”

“Why?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I just can’t remember much about living here. Before.”

“How’s Chicago?”

“I like it there. I mean, it sucks sometimes; in the winter you freeze, in the summer you roast. And the city is totally split.
Black people live on the South Side, white people live on the North. The South Side is dangerous and there are drugs and guns
there, everywhere, really. You’ll get mugged in broad daylight and no one will do anything. But the lake is beautiful. And
it’s where my friends live. And my mom. She likes that there are so many Indians.”

“She must miss you.”

“Nah,” he said, breaking the branch in two. “She’s the one who sent me back.” Victor’s voice loosened, and he kept talking.
“Yeah, Grandma is having a really hard time, and Morn thought it would be good to have a grandkid living with her.” He paused.
“I kept getting into trouble. My mom calls it ‘urban trouble.’ She decided to send me to the country.” He gestured to the
party around them and laughed. “If she only knew.”

Amelia couldn’t believe it, but she felt relaxed, as if she were capable of reassuring someone else, even. Someone like Victor.
She felt calm. As if she knew what to do and say. She said, “Well, we can try to get in a little trouble together,” but after
it was out of her mouth, she realized that could mean something much more flirtatious than she intended. She buried her face
against her knees again and laughed nervously. Victor didn’t respond and she wanted to die. She never should have opened her
big stupid mouth.

“You remember that baby?”

“What?” Victor’s words jostled the embarrassment right out of her.

“The baby,” Victor persisted. “The baby we found on the other side of Wiggler’s Creek.”

“No,” she said, but even as she spoke, she knew that she
did
remember. Pulling that baby back into her senses took a few moments.
She remembered the infant cooing up at her. She remembered fear. And she remembered loneliness.

“We were playing together. And for some reason we went beyond that old fence that isn’t there anymore, you remember, and we
found this baby—”

“And then you went to get my father, and I went to pee, and by the time you got back—”

“The baby was gone.” Victor nodded. “You
do
remember. I’ve been wondering since I first saw you. And we weren’t allowed to play together after that, were we?”

Amelia felt as if she might burst. “We weren’t. You’re right, we weren’t. But how long was that before you moved?”