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“Go for it, I’m good here.”
Woohoo!
I kick up dirt behind me and hit the first hill, catching air for two seconds before landing it perfectly. Fuck yes.
I hit the next one, going a bit faster this time and catch the air for long enough to do a whip. Then I go around and around, hitting the hills, landing my bike… two perfect runs. On the second run I notice more people have arrived and are watching me sail past the quads and the other pit bike. I love riding, I love trails, it’s the only thing I do these days that is purely for me.
My dad taught me, and he taught me well. So well I out-skilled him by age fourteen.
I skid to a stop in front of Nash, unable to stop the beaming smile from stretching across my face, totally not realizing who he’s standing with.
“That was a killer run,” Nash grins, and Nokosi, who must be his brother, just sneers at me. Nash, noticing his brother’s glare, slings an arm around my leather-clad shoulders. “Don’t mind him, he’s had a stick up his ass for years.”
“It’s really jammed up in there,” I reply, and he laughs.
Nokosi narrows his eyes on me but doesn’t say anything. Likely so he doesn’t look like a bigger ass than he is already.
“So, what brings you to Westoria, Oregon?”
“Mom’s work, as always, we’ll be gone again in a month or so.”
His brows pulled in. “Sounds like hell to me. I’m a homebody, couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
I shrug my shoulders, not showing that it does affect me, it fucking sucks when I get used to a place and have to leave. “I don’t complain about what I can’t change.”
“That’s smart, peaceful even. Learning to just accept the inevitable instead of trying to fight it.”
Nokosi snorts and I wonder if Nash’s words are also referring to something going on with them.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” I tell him, wanting to get out of here now, get home and eat some grub.
“Yeah, Nash, thanks,” Nokosi grits, putting extra sarcastic emphasis on the thanks.
“I meant when I said you can come here any time; my people won’t mind.”
His people? Is he their chief or something? I doubt it, he’s so young. He must just know them all really well.
“Speak for yourself,” Nokosi adds, glaring at his brother now.
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not,” Winona assures me, smiling kindly. “Ignore him.” She shoves Nokosi, or tries to, he doesn’t budge an inch, he’s a solid mass of body and muscle and attitude.
He sneers at me one more time and then walks away, stopping at a quadbike that has been parked haphazardly at the edge of the dirt track.
“It’s not you,” Nash explains.
I raise my brows. “Oh, I don’t care, to be honest. He doesn’t scare me.”
“Good,” Nash replies softly. He smiles gently and taps his knuckles against the helmet that I’m holding under one arm. I’m such a sweaty mess right now. “I’ll let you drive us back, so you get a feel for the way here.”
“You sure I’m okay to come back here?”
“Any time you want, Anetúte…” He sees my confusion at the word. “Meaning my father, will be happy. He wants us to mingle more with you pale faces.”
“Is that why Nokosi is the only native in school?” I had to ask because I’ve wondered about it since I started.
He sighs gravely. “Kind of, Nokosi was made to join Lakeside last year because of his hatred towards your people.”
“Not my people,” I correct, and he smiles again. He has such a nice smile. It’s so calming.
“Anetúte wanted him to learn to love them and forgive them.”
“Forgive them for what?”
He sighs again and looks up at the graying sky. “If only we knew.”
I look over at Nokosi who is riding the quad over a slope. He’s not bad himself, navigating the bike with ease and strength. I can’t help but watch him and wonder why he hates white people so much when, if what Nash is saying is true, he’s been raised to be tolerant despite our history.
I often find that people don’t hate for no reason, if it’s not the way they were raised or the influence of their peers, then it’s usually something in particular that has flipped that switch.
“Just stay away from him and he won’t bother you.”
“Noted.” I climb on the bike before patting the seat like he did to me before. “Thanks for showing me the way back.”
“It’s no problem.”
He climbs on behind me, eliciting cheers from his friends who are supposed to be watching Nokosi. His chest presses against my back and his thighs grip mine.
“Don’t crash, my brain will scramble, and my people will miss me.”
I laugh under my breath. “I’ll do my best.”
We ride forward, him holding on to my waist with a tight arm banding around me, his other hand points to direct us out of the forest and back to the main road.
