I glanced at the sky, thinking a storm must be blowing in, but it was clear as glass. And then I realized. The only sounds disturbing the woods were my tires scrunching along the ground and my panting.
I jerked the brakes and jolted to a stop. Popping my foot out of the pedal, I placed it on the ground and looked around. I knew this feeling. When I lived with the Simmses and Mr. Simms had been drinking too much, he’d get violent. When he stomped down the hall to my bedroom, I hid under the bed because I knew he was searching for someone to hurt. The way I felt right now, Mr. Simms might as well have been stomping down the hall to get me.
Breathing turned to a chore, the dense air hardly fitting through my constricting windpipe. I needed to hide. Or run.
I put my foot back on the pedal and pushed as hard as I could. Well, I didn’t clip the sole of the shoe into the stupid clipless pedal all the way. Ten feet down the trail I lost control of my bike and totally wiped out. In a daze I stared up at the sky. A big black bird circled overhead, hunting something. Struggling to get free of the bike, I saw a gleam of black in the woods and froze. Someone was there, watching. Me. I was being watched.
My brain decided to freak out, filling with thoughts of the man who’d been looking for me at the Navajo Mexican. Maybe he’d found me.…
In a flash, I was back on my bike and pedaling as fast as I could, my butt not once touching the bike seat. There was a disturbance in the woods behind me, the crash and snap of something big careening through the underbrush. Peering over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of gold fur. I pedaled harder.
Bridger’s SUV came into view, two bikes beside it. I’d never been so glad to see a big, expensive hunk of metal. I rode up to it, gasping for breath, but Bridger and Kat weren’t there.
Close by, a stick snapped and I flinched, staring at the woods. Bridger emerged from the trees, shirt in hand, pulling a twig out of his midnight hair. Kat followed, eyes wide, face pale.
Bridger looked at me and frowned. “Are you all right, Maggie? Your knee’s bleeding.”
I pressed my lips together.
“You’re scared. What happened?” he asked. Kat stared at me with rapt attention.
I took a ragged breath. “I thought I saw something in the woods.”
Bridger studied me, dark eyes calculating. “But you didn’t?” I shrugged. I had seen something. I just didn’t know exactly what.
“We need to hurry and get out of here. It’s almost ten o’clock. Mrs. Carpenter’s going to wonder where we are,” he said.
I nodded and looked around. The forest was noisy again, alive with birds and chipmunks. With the appearance of Bridger and Kat, everything seemed to go back to normal.
23
A week later, Bridger talked me into playing Ultimate at the city park, whatever the heck that meant. I was just happy to be doing something without his little sister.
We got out of his car and I followed him across the grass to a group of guys, half of them white, half dark skinned, with Kat in their midst. So much for doing something without her.
My heart dropped when I realized these big, tall, muscular men were Bridger’s “friends” that I was going to play Ultimate with. I was tiny beside them. I hoped there was no physical contact in Ultimate, because if there was I’d be toast.
“Hey, guys,” Bridger called a greeting. “I made good on my promise and found one more player.” He nodded at me as if I were some sort of a peace offering. “Guys, meet Maggie. Maggie, meet the guys.”
Their eyes went from my face, to my fancy black tank top, to my hand-me-down designer jeans, to my running shoes. More than one of them started to complain. I couldn’t blame them. They all wore sporty exercise clothes—even Kat, dressed in teeny skintight shorts and a matching tank top, with gym socks pulled up to her knees. One guy, the oldest, even had on a knee brace.
“Um, Bridger?” I said, tugging on his T-shirt. He was wearing workout clothes, too.
“I know you’re nervous. Just trust me,” Bridger whispered, never taking his eyes from the “guys.” He looked awfully pleased with himself, like the cat that swallowed the canary. “So,” he called out. “Whose team are Maggie and I on? Walt’s or Alex’s?”
Two men, one white, one dark, stepped out of the group and eyed each other, then eyed Bridger and me, sizing me up all over again. They looked at each other once more, and the dark guy started talking.
“With those two added, we can’t play dark on light. Unless—” He looked at Bridger. “You wanna be on my team, Atay? You’ve got enough color in your skin to still look Navajo.”
“I don’t care whose team I’m on, but Maggie has to be on my team. She and I work well together,” Bridger said. Kat barked a laugh and rolled her eyes.
“But we dark boys are skins.” The guy looked me over once more and then took his T-shirt off, exposing washboard abs and smooth golden skin. “Unless she’s taking her shirt off, you two’ll have to stick with Walt and Kat.”
I glared at the guy and folded my arms over my chest. He laughed and looked at Bridger. “Ne-zhoni,” he said. Bridger shrugged. “Walt, give me one of your pasty white guys.”
“All right, you’re on my team. I’m Walt. That’s Alex.” The blond man with the knee brace held out his hand. I pulled my eyes away from Alex’s abs and shook Walt’s hand. Before Walt could say another word, Bridger grabbed the back of my tank top and towed me out of hearing distance from the other players.
“Maggie, whatever you do, don’t tell them you’ve never played before, because I said I wouldn’t bring a beginner. Now, when the game starts, you run to the end zone as fast as you can and catch the Frisbee I’m going to throw to you. You got that? As soon as you catch it, you freeze—you can’t move, because that is the rule. If you aren’t in the end zone, throw the Frisbee to Kat or one of the guys with a shirt on. Any of them will do. You got that?” He looked at me expectantly.
I nodded. “Sure. Run to end zone, catch Frisbee, throw Frisbee if I’m not in end zone. Got it.” I didn’t mention my hands were shaking and I wasn’t sure if I could catch a Frisbee, since I had never tried.
“You’ll do fine,” he assured me. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have brought you.”
We walked back over to the guys and lined up for a game of Ultimate. My team, the ones wearing shirts, had the Frisbee, so when the game started I sprinted, easily clearing the defense of Alex’s shirtless golden-skinned team and headed toward the end zone. Before I was quite there, I looked over my shoulder in time to see Bridger fling a fluorescent pink Frisbee clear from the other end of the field. It soared through the air, high over the heads of the running defense, and floated down right into my hands. I happened to be standing in the end zone.
We played for a good half hour, with me scoring several points because of my speed, but that was about all I did—run to the end zone, catch the Frisbee.
The more I watched the other players, though, the more I understood the game. I started using my speed not only to run to the end zone for points, but also to intercept the Frisbee when the other team had it. Alex would have the Frisbee and throw it toward one of his guys, but I would sprint as fast as I could and snatch it out of the air a split second before Alex’s guy could catch it. Boy, did that make me a popular player. My weakness was throwing. Half the time when I intercepted the Frisbee, I gave it right back to the other team. “Learn to aim,” Kat would snap. But when my throws were successful, all the guys on my team would whoop and holler and high-five me.
Bridger wasn’t the least bit surprised. He’d just nod and have a look of pure satisfaction in his eyes when they met mine.
After my team had won three games to none, it was four twenty-five—five minutes till work. I was sweaty and panting, and my hair, I am sure, needed to be redone before I set foot into the Navajo Mexican.
“I’ve got to go to work,” I told Walt, who was ready to play again even though he was winded and soaked with sweat.
“Oh! Come on, Mag! Play one more!” some of the guys called.
“Another time, guys. I’ve got to go, too,” Bridger said. He pulled his T-shirt off and wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow. My eyes latched onto his body. His shoulders were like airplane wings, his arms corded with long, lean muscle. Some of the guys bumped their knuckles against his and said, “Nice game, Atay.” Then he came and stood beside me, pulling his shirt back on.
“So, Mag, where do you work?” Walt asked. I don’t know where the nickname Mag had come from, but I didn’t mind it.
“She works at a little restaurant, serving people,” Kat said, as if it were the most demeaning job in the world.
“Wait a sec! Are you Magdalena?” Walt asked incredulously.
“Yeah. How do you know me?”
“I’m Maria’s husband,” he said, smiling. “She’s away on maternity leave. You’re covering for her?”
“Wow, small world,” I said. I reached up and unbound my hair, shaking it out.
“Small town,” Walt corrected. “Well, come and play again, Mag. We play every Tuesday and Thursday at three thirty.”
“Yeah, come back again, Mag. Anytime,” Alex said, his eyes holding mine.
“Thanks, Alex.” He grinned as he watched me comb my fingers through my hair. A hand came down on my shoulder and I jumped. Alex scowled and stopped staring. Kat, standing beside Alex, shook her head the tiniest bit.
I glanced at Bridger in surprise. He was smiling at Alex, but his eyes were hard as rock.
“Thanks for the invite, Alex. I’d like to play again,” I replied, feeling sorry for the guy. I turned to go, shrugging Bridger’s hand away.
Bridger called his good-byes to the guys, told Kat he’d be back in five minutes, and caught up with me.
“What was that about?” I asked as I pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail.
“Huh?” He didn’t look at me—just stared straight ahead.