“Dick,” Adam said. No one had ever made fun of his name except Roberto, although he’d always been embarrassed by it and considered it supremely goofy. Babunya, his grandmother, had picked out the name, and it sounded okay when she said it: Uh-dahm, with the accent on the second syllable. It sounded exotic that way, not quite so stupid. But when it was pronounced the normal way, the American way, he hated it.
He was glad Babunya was going to be living with them, he had to admit. He liked the idea of having her around all the time instead of just going to visit her on weekends. But he was not happy to be moving.
Not happy?
He was miserable.
He’d postponed telling Roberto that they were moving, not sure how to break the news to his friend.
Sasha, if possible, was even more upset than he was. Teo was only nine and didn’t seem to be all that concerned, but Sasha was furious. She’d had a big fight with their parents last night, refusing to move, threatening to leave, threatening to run away, and she and their parents were still arguing when he finally fell asleep.
For the first time in his life, he’d been rooting for his sister to win an argument.
But of course that could not happen. She might be a senior in high school, but she was only a teenager and they were adults, and hierarchy always overrode logic.
They were going to be forced to move to Arizona, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.
Roberto walked quickly over to him, glanced back at his house. “Let’s hit the pavement,” he said. “My mom’s on the warpath again, and I know she’s gonna try and make me wash windows or pull weeds or do something stupid. She was all over my old man last night about how I don’t do anything around the house, and she’s been looking around all morning trying to think of something.”
“Roberto!” his mother called from inside the house.
“Haul ass!” Roberto took off, and Adam followed. They sped down the block, turned the corner, and didn’t stop until they were out of hearing range. They were both laughing and breathing heavily, but Adam’s laughter was tinged with sadness as he realized that in a few more weeks he would not be able to hang out with Roberto anymore, would not be able to rescue him from the hell of household chores, and his amusement faded much faster than his friend’s.
“Let’s check out the AM/PM,” Roberto said. “The new Marvel cards should be in.”
Adam nodded his agreement. “All right.”
They walked through the neighborhood, cut through an alley, and headed down busy Paramount Boulevard to the gas station mini-mart. Roberto found a plastic spider on the ground next to a sewer grating, and Adam found a quarter in the coin return slot of a pay phone, and they both agreed that this was turning out to be a fine day.
At the AM/PM, they walked straight to the trading cards rack. The new Marvel cards had indeed arrived, and the two of them pooled their money and bought five packs. Adam was the Spiderman fan, so all Spidey cards automatically went to him. There were four this time, so Roberto got four choices from the remaining cards, and they divided up the rest on a one-for-you-and-one-for-me basis.
They were walking slowly past the pumps, back out to Paramount, sorting through their cards, when Adam told him.
“We’re moving.”
“What?” Roberto stopped walking and looked dumbly over at him as though his ears and brain had somehow mistranslated what had been said.
“My parents bought a house in some small town in Arizona. That’s where my dad’s from. Ever since he won the lottery and quit his job he’s been lost. He doesn’t have anything to do. He doesn’t know what he wants to do. So he decided to try to recapture his childhood or something and he dragged my mom out to Arizona and they bought a house out there and now they’re going to force us to uproot our lives and take off and live in the middle of the desert.” The words spilled out in a torrent, with barely a pause between sentences, and Adam realized that he had a lump in his throat and was very close to crying.
Roberto was silent.
They looked around at the building, at the cars, at the pumps, at the street, at everything but each other, both of them too embarrassed to acknowledge what they were feeling.
“Shit,” Roberto said finally.
Adam cleared his throat, starting to say something, then thought better of it.
“I never said anything against your old man, you know. Even after everything you told me, I always thought he was pretty cool. But, Ad Man, your dad’s an asshole.”
Adam nodded miserably.
“Fuck.”
There was a horn honk behind them. Adam jumped, turning around to see a mustached man in a beat-up Chevy waving them away from the gas pumps. “You’re blocking my way!” he yelled.
Adam followed Roberto out to the sidewalk. “You can come out and visit,” he said. “You could stay for, like, a week or two. Have your mom and dad pick you up. If it’s all right with them,” he added.
“Or you could come back here. Stay with us.”
Adam smiled. “Even better.”
Roberto shook his head. “Arizona, huh?”
“Arizona.”
“It’s gonna be tough, man. You’ll have to go to an all-new school, have to meet new people, make friends. Probably everyone there’s known each other since birth, so you’ll be an outsider. Big ol’ hillbilly kids’ll kick your ass for no reason.”
Adam hadn’t thought of that.
“There’ll be nothing to do but watch TV and stare out at the cactus.”
“I’ll tell ’em I’m a major surfer from California. They’ve probably never even seen an ocean. What do they know? I’ll lie my way to the top of the school.”
Roberto smiled. “There are some possibilities there.”
They were both silent as they started to walk back toward the neighborhood. It was going to be as tough for Roberto, Adam knew, as it would be for him. He was Roberto’s best friend, and Roberto would have to find someone new to hang with, too.
They were both depressed as they headed down the alley.
Adam looked over at his friend. “You gotta write to me, man. You gotta keep me up on current events, tell me what’s going on in the real world so I don’t turn into some inbred Jed.”
“I will,” Roberto promised. “I’ll write to you, like, once a week. And I’ll put in a new Spidey card every time.”
Adam tried to smile. “Yeah. That’s cool.”
“They probably don’t have ’em out there.”
“Probably not.”
But Roberto wasn’t much of a writer, he knew. His friend might send a letter or two the first couple weeks, but that would taper off as he found some new best friend, and probably by the time school started there wouldn’t be any letters at all.
Once his family moved, he might never see Roberto again.
He tried to imagine what his friend would be like in ten years, what kind of job he’d have, whether or not he’d go to college. Would Roberto’s life turn out differently because he wasn’t there with him? Would his life turn out differently? They were good influences on each other, Roberto’s mom had always said. Maybe their new friends wouldn’t have as much influence, wouldn’t be as good.
Roberto cleared his throat, looked away. “You’ll still be my best friend,” he said embarrassedly.
“Yeah,” Adam said.
He wiped his eyes, and tried to tell himself that they were only watering because of the smog.
2
In her dream, Gregory was a little boy again. He was standing on the steps of the old church in Arizona, staring down at what looked like the dead body of a deformed child. Wind was blowing, a strong wind, kicking up dust, and there were shapes in the dust, vague, dark outlines that resembled the small, twisted body on the steps.