Bad News

No. She said, “I thought I’d have to walk all the way back to Whispering Pines. Do you know where that is? The campground?”

“Oh, sure,” he said. I shouldn’t have a long conversation with her, he warned himself, because then she’ll be able to recognize me later on.

But now she said, “I wonder. I know it’s asking a lot, and you a perfect stranger, but could you possibly drive me there? Or are you waiting for your girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” he said, and could feel himself blush. He’d be stammering soon. “I’m not waiting for my girlfriend,” he stammered.

“Well, it would only take you ten minutes,” she assured him, “and I’d pay you when we got there, just as much as I’d pay the taxi. Could you do that for me?” She made a light little embarrassed laugh, then said, “You see I’m a damsel in distress.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “You mean you want me to drive you to the campground?”

“Could you be a dear? Could you be a darling?”

There’s no way to say no, he realized. “The car isn’t—” he began. “It isn’t very clean in here.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she told him. “And you’re a lifesaver. Thank you so much.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, and rolled up his window as she walked around to get into the passenger seat beside him, first tossing the comic books and empty soda cans into the back. “Why, it’s nice and cozy in here,” she said, and smiled at him again as she slammed her door.

Do it quick and get it over with, he told himself. Ten minutes, and then leave. Don’t talk a lot, don’t do things to make her remember you.

“My name’s Little Feather Redcorn,” she said. Her smile beamed into his right cheek like an auger. “What’s yours?”

Lie? Tell the truth? Then he realized he had to tell the truth because he couldn’t think of any other names, not at this particular moment. “Be

She said, “Are you from out on the reservation?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m going to be living there soon,” she said.

Red light. He stopped behind the pickup truck already there and risked a glance in her direction. She just kept looking directly at him with those very bright black eyes, very close to him in this little car. She sat half-turned toward him, her coat open, and her shirt was really very tight. Even without her being in a bikini, he could tell her bosom was exactly like the bosoms on the posters in his bedroom.

Feeling his face flame up, he wrenched his head forward to stare desperately at the rear of that unlovely pickup out there. “You’re going to live on the reservation?” he asked when he felt his voice might be reasonably steady.

“Pretty soon,” she said. “I’m Pottaknobbee.”

“Uh-huh.” The pickup moved, so he did, too.

She said, “You know who the Pottaknobbee are, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” he said. “They’re the extinct tribe.”

She chuckled, a throaty sound, and said, “Do I look extinct?”

He didn’t dare look at her again, but anyway, he already knew the answer. “No, you don’t.”

“I think I look pretty alive, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You see, the thing is, Be

“Oh, sure.”

“And you can call me Little Feather.”

“Okay,” he said, doubting he ever would.

“Well, the thing is, Be

“Uh-huh,” he said, and stopped behind the same pickup at a different traffic light. He hoped he was acting cool and relaxed on the outside, but on the inside, he knew, he was swirling like some huge storm. Hurricane Be

“Well,” she said, “the tribes have to be sure I’m really me and not some imposter, so that’ll take a few days, and then I’ll move out. I think it’s very exciting, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

She said, “Maybe you could show me around, when I move out there. Would you like to do that?”

“Oh, sure,” he said. Then he imagined all those creeps from high school who used to put him down all the time, and all those girls from high school who wouldn’t go to the movies with him, and he saw himself walking around the reservation, right in front of them all, with Little Feather Redcorn walking right next to him, smiling at him and talking to him. In the summer, maybe she’d wear a bikini.

“You’re smiling,” she said.

Oops. “Well,” he said, noticing that his hands were wet on the steering wheel, “I’m happy for you. Coming home and all.”

“Little Feather,” she said, her voice low. “You can say it, Be

He watched the road, as though it might at any second do something unexpected. He inhaled. “Little Feather,” he said.

“Hi, Be

He took another breath. “Hi, Little Feather,” he said.

“Now we’re friends,” she told him, “and here’s Whispering Pines. Just drive in and bear to the right. I’ll get money out of my wallet and—”

“You don’t have to pay me anything,” he said. “Not now that we’re friends.” He inhaled. “Little Feather,” he said.

“Why, thank you, Be

“Is that yours?” he asked.

“Yes, I drove here in it from Nevada, all by myself,” she said. “Park here, right in front of it.”

He stopped the Subaru but left the engine ru

“It got scary sometimes,” she admitted, “to be completely on my own like that, but I thought, I’m going home, going to my people, and that made it better.”

Gee, Be

“Isn’t it fu

“I like to hear you talk,” he said, which he knew was true and thought might be clever.

“I tell you what, Be

“Well, uh . . .” he said, wondering what was best to do, thinking he’d already had more experiences today than he could entirely deal with and it might be best just to go home and lie down for a while.

She rested a hand on his forearm, with a touch like warm electricity. It tingled all the way up to his ear. Smiling at him, leaning closer to him so that a faint but powerful musk crept into his nostrils and his skull and his brain, she said, “Wouldn’t you like to come in, Be

He swallowed. He inhaled. He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I would like to come in.”