she said.
“I sure will, mam, and I’m speaking for the whole family when I say thank you very much.” YoYo took her glass to the sink, dumped the ice, and rinsed it. She shook hands again with Granny and made for the door.
“Jordan, don’t you want to come outside with me?”
He thought she’d be mad at him and might even try to beat him up. He glanced at Granny.
“Well go on, Jordan. Get out of the house for a while.”
Jordan got up and moped to the door.
“See you again soon Mrs. Tigertail,” YoYo said.
“Yepsytoosky,” Granny said.
With Butch following, Yolanda and Jordan walked silently through the front yard out of the gate and onto the pickup trail which led to the pond. They stopped.
“I’m sorry about the book,” Jordan said. “You know, for what it said.”
“What’d it say?”
“You know.”
“I know I know but I want you to say it.”
“It said, ‘Fawn is a nigger.’”
“There now, OK,” YoYo said. “Apology accepted.”
They shook hands.
“Now, let’s race.”
The crisis over, Jordan felt jovial, clownish. “What? Are you crazy? You want to race me? I’m the fastest player on my team.”
So! You ain’t nothin’ but a pup. You ain’t fast. I be like Evelyn Ashford and shit.”
“Who’s that?”
“Never mind. Wanna race or not?” she said, then adopted a deep mimicking voice and pumped her fist at him. “We gonna get it on, ’cause we don’t get along.” She threw playful jabs at him like a boxer.
“OK then,” Jordan said. “To where?”
“Through that gate right there that goes to that pond.” It was about fifty yards away.
They stood side by side, eyeing the pond. Jordan’s arms hung loosely at his sides and his knees were bent slightly, as if he were leading off a base and preparing to steal. YoYo assumed a sprinter’s stance, bent over, balancing her weight on her fingers and kicking her legs out behind her like a horse. Jordan had never seen such a pose.
“What are you doing? I thought you wanted to race.”
“Just say one, two, three, go,” she said.
“OK. One, two, three, go!”
At “go!” YoYo broke, stayed low for a few strides, then slowly straightened. He gave her a small lead for the sport of it, then took off. His plan was to trail her for the first forty yards or so, then blaze past her. But to his surprise he couldn’t merely trail this girl, he had to run his hardest just to keep up. She ran upright, almost leaning backward it seemed, fists blurring piston-like in front of her. Her eyes were wide like she was startled, and her lips formed an “O.” She blew her breath in short, smart huffs. With twenty yards left Jordan became scared he was going to lose and with this burst of adrenalin shot past her through the fence posts at the last instant. Barking, Butch came in a distant third.
They stood bent over at their waists, hands on their thighs, sucking air heavily. Looking up, Jordan saw tight buds of black hair in her armpits. The little silver dove on her necklace swung gaily and sparkled like it was flying. He grew weary of standing and plopped down on the ground. She did the same. Sweat had popped out on their foreheads. Jordan watched a bead drop from her chin onto her chest and roll down between her breasts and soak into her shirt. A breeze came and cooled them. Finally, she broke the silence.
“I didn’t know you could run like that,” she panted. “Hardly nobody beats me.”
“You’re the fastest girl I’ve ever seen,” he gasped. “You’re faster than anyone on my team.”
“Good race,” she said, and extended her hand for The Shake. They shook, then YoYo snapped her fingers and said, “You fast, baby. But you got lucky. I don’t like runnin’ in no cow pasture. I runs on a motherfuckin’ track.” She was moving her head back and forth like a chicken. “Now let’s go walkin’ around down here and see what all they is to do.”
After they threw rocks at turtles in the pond, Jordan showed her the small canyon where the landowners let people dump trash for five dollars.
“My grandpa found a fan here one time and fixed it,” Jordan said.
YoYo bent down over a pile of rubbish and withdrew a magazine gingerly, holding it by her fingertips.
“Oooooh. Look at this nasty magazine. People be dumpin’ some nasty books off in this motherfucker!” She held a picture up to Jordan. “This ol’ bitch be havin’ some big-ass titties.”
Jordan looked away. He’d spent entire afternoons in the canyon looking for Playboys but how could he look at them with YoYo around? He’d be back for it later.
“Ol’ white bitch,” YoYo said, and flung the magazine back.
“I know a place we can go,” Jordan said. “Come on.”
She followed him up a cow trail which led out of the canyon and into a grove of young trees. The trees had grown together closely and provided good heavy shade. They ducked and entered. Inside, Jordan had a place cleared where they sat down across from each other, leaning back on the small trunks.
“This your clubhouse or something?”
“No, I just come here when it gets too hot,” he said.
They sat quietly and listened to the wind rattle the branches and leaves, which made dizzying symmetrical patterns against the sky. Somewhere, a dog barked. Butch, sprawled on the ground, pricked one ear but kept his eyes closed. Jordan felt drowsy.
“You folks is Indians ain’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“My grandma be havin’ some Creek off in her, but Pops said I ain’t got no Indian,” YoYo said. She held her arm out in front of her. “See, if I had some Indian off in me I’d be light like you.”
Her arm was darker than his but not exactly black, Jordan thought. Blackern’ a charcoal grill, he’d heard Grandpa describe his friend Mr. Jones.
“Uncle Rodney say Indians got some dog off in them ’cause they be eating dogs but I don’t believe his crazy ass.” She paused. “You folks don’t eat no dog, do you?”
Jordan looked at Butch, who lay curved with his snout in his hock and a fly on his black-and-brown coat. Occasionally he’d puff up with air and sigh. They said he was German shepherd because he looked more German shepherd than anything. He had simply shown up at their gate. Out of the clear blue sky, Granny’d said.
Jordan
