I look over my shoulder at the obvious taunt. It’s the twins, Ben and Danny Burrell. Fuckers can’t even get good grades, yet they come here to belittle me. No fucking way. Not on my watch.
“Shut your fucking pie holes,” I reply.
They both burst out into laughter.
“What is that on the windows? Blood of a fucking pig?” Danny asks, laughing at the text written on the glass. “Good luck cleaning that off, Indian.”
Hanson throws his sponge at them, but they dodge it right away. “Get the fuck out of here!”
“It’s a free town, bitch. We can go wherever we want,” Ben says, throwing the sponge right back at Hanson.
I’m pretty fucking sure they did this. And then came back to admire their fucking work.
“Motherfuckers,” I spit. I’ve had enough of them and Derek’s shit. They’ve been hounding me at school and now here too. I’m done.
“What’d you want, huh?” Ben taunts, both of them approaching us with dirty looks.
I raise my fists. “Come at me,” I hiss. “I dare you. I fucking dare you.”
“What? You wanna get your ass beaten, boy?” Danny spits. “You’re nothing but a piece of Native trash.”
“Take that back,” I bark. “Or I swear to God, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?”
A voice from behind them makes them turn their heads. I look up. It’s my uncle Josiah Locklear. I haven’t seen him in years, not since we left the reserve. I almost didn’t recognize him, it’s been so long. But the moment I do, a smile appears on my face.
“You weren’t going to fight out here on the streets, were you?” Uncle Josiah asks. One stern look at the two boys has them backing off.
“No, sir, we were just fooling around.”
“Go play somewhere else then,” he says, cocking his head at them a couple of times. “Go on.”
“Yes, sir.” Both boys immediately run off.
I guess my uncle’s influence even spans to this town and beyond. And all that because he’s part of the council that oversees the reserve. People respect him, and the rednecks fear his power. That, or he just has loads of cash and can literally buy anything he sets his eyes on, including the Burrell farm. I don’t think the twins can afford to anger my uncle.
He’s a powerful man. One I admire.
“Uncle Jo!” I say with a big smile on my face.
He pulls me in for a hug and laughs too. “How you doing, boy?”
“All right, I guess,” I reply. But that’s kind of a lie. “I miss the reserve, though. Cooking out in the wild, making frybread with the family.”
“You still remember that? Aww …” He rubs my head and tousles my hair as if I’m still a little kid. “Yeah, those are the good memories all right.”
I swiftly step out of his arms when I notice Hanson staring at us.
“And who’s this?” Uncle Josiah asks.
Hanson holds out his hand. “Name’s Hanson.”
My uncle stares him down instead of shaking his hand, then says, “Nice to meet ya, boy.”
“He works at my papa’s shop too,” I add with an awkward smile. “He’s from the reserve like you.”
Uncle Josiah smiles back. “So your papa has you cleaning up the front of the shop?” He looks the window up and down, the letters still clearly visible, and shakes his head.
I glance at the racist words scribbled on the windows. “Yeah, people don’t really like us here.”
“Well, that’s no reason for them to behave like that,” he says, gesturing at the window.
I nod. “I’ve said that over and over, but Papa won’t listen. He thinks people will get used to us and that things will eventually settle down.” I rub the back of my neck, unsure what I should do. “It pisses me off that Papa lets everyone walk all over him. If it were up to me, I’d have beaten the shit out of them already.”
Uncle Josiah laughs. “Of course, you would. But your papa ain’t like that. He’s more of a gentle soul.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll appreciate it someday.”
“If you say so,” I reply, which he ignores.
“Is your papa inside? I need to speak with him,” he asks.
I nod, and he immediately walks inside, so I stroll behind him while simultaneously signaling to Hanson that I have no clue what’s going on.
When my papa sees me with my uncle, though … I have never seen his eyes turn that cold that quickly.
“Josiah? What are you doing here?” he asks with an obvious sneer. He clutches the counter as he walks in front of it. “Brandon, c’mere boy.”
“It’s Uncle Jo. Aren’t you happy to see him?” I ask, confused.
“Come. Here.” The frown on my papa’s face completely sours my mood.
After a reluctant glance at my uncle, I make my way over to my papa. What happened between them? All I know is that we were one big happy family when we left the reserve.
My papa clears his throat. “Hanson, you can go home now.”
Hanson makes a face. “But I thought we were supposed to—”
“You’re done for today,” my papa says resolutely.
“Okay,” Hanson says, side-eyeing me. He shrugs and drops everything he was doing. “See ya tomorrow.”
After he’s gone, I frown and glare at Uncle Jo and then my papa. They’re staring uncomfortably at one another.
“Nice shop you got here,” Uncle Jo says, playing with some of the items on the shelves.
“Go to the back,” my papa whispers at me.
“Why? I’m old enough to know what’s going on, Papa,” I say.
“Not. Now,” he hisses. “Uncle Jo and I have some business to take care of.”
Sighing out loud, I say, “Fine.”
I go to the back of the shop, but my dad didn’t say I couldn’t listen to their conversation from behind the doorway.
What? I’m not perfect.
Besides, this is way too important to miss.
“So how’s Brandon doing at school?” Uncle Jo asks. “Straight A’s?”
“He’s doing fine,” my papa replies without any emotion. It’s like he hates talking about me or something.
“Great to hear. Business good too?”
“We manage,” my papa answers, then he clears his throat. “Let’s not pretend you’re actually interested.”
“Oh, c’mon now. Course I am. Just because you’ve moved out doesn’t mean you’re not part of the family anymore.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds. Something jingles. Sounds like the cash register.
“Here,” Papa says. “That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?”