"No." he frowned. "I still need car parts. I can't afford them. We had to jerk off one of the elders to borrow that one," He pointed with his thumb in the direction of the front yard.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I haven't seen any... what was it you were looking for?"
"Master cylinder." He grinned. "Hey, is something wrong with the truck?"
"No."
"Oh. I just wondered why you weren't driving it. Not like, to butt-in or anything. I mean, haven't been watching you or anything. I live like ten miles away hahahahaha. How would I watch you from ten miles away? Hahahaha."
I tried to smile but somewhere on the uplift, my lips got caught on the fear that I'd somehow broken Squaw.
His face glowed red. "But like, the last two times I've seen you, you haven't been driving it."
I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check the bottom side. "I got a ride with a friend."
"Wow, nice ride. Nice, nice ride." He stammered. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around the white part of town."
I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.
"My dad seemed to know him from somewhere."
"Squaw, could you hand me some plates? They're in the cupboard over the sink."
"Sure." He said, walking over. "Are these them?" He asked.
I reluctantly looked up, and squinted to see if they were the exact plates I had wanted to use to serve the grilled cheese sandwiches to myself and my father. "No, those aren't them. The ones I'm looking for are kind of greenish blue, and have a grey-ish ribbon around the end."
Squaw rustled about in the cabinet for a minute or two as the grilled cheese sandwiches began to burn. "Have you found them yet?" I asked. I looked up at Squaw just seconds before he dropped a huge stack of ceramic plates on the floor.
"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, throwing himself on the floor to begin cleaning up his mess. "Oh man, I've never broken so many plates in my life. Where will I even begin?" He said desperately.
I turned off the burner, rolled my eyes, moved the pan to one of the back burners, and walked to the cabinet where we kept the bowls. I walked back to the stove and put each sandwich in a bowl, sighing.
Squaw continued picking up the plate-shards as I prepared beverages for myself and my father. Unfortunately he also continued the conversation we were having before he broke all of my father's dinner plates.
"So who was it?' he asked.
I sighed in defeat. He was a master tactician. "Fredward Cullen."
To my surprise, he laughed. I glanced up at him, ready to sock him one. He looked a little terrified.
"Guess that explains it then," he said softly, backing up a bit towards the opposite wall, clearly preparing for me to hit him. "I-I-I just wondered why my dad was acting so strange."

239

Chapter 12

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