Zigzag

  “You were great out there,” Glen told him, then reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a tube of salve. “Go wash your hands real good and then put this on ’em—by tomorrow they’ll be almost like new.”

  Dory took the salve and shakily climbed down the fence to help Marsh clean himself up.

  “You always carry that stuff around with you?” I asked Glen.

  “For the rodeos. Makes the kids feel like real cowboys if I tell ’em what to do. If their mothers gave it to ’em, they’d feel like sissies.”

  “Aren’t you the psychologist?”

  He shrugged. “By tomorrow his hands’ll feel like hell, but he won’t bitch about it too much because he used the magic cowboy potion. You wait and see.”

  I smiled. “Do you do this all year round?”

  “No. I just finished my first year at the University of Arizona. I grew up about an hour from here, which in Wyoming is right in the neighborhood. This is my third summer working for Mel.”

  I liked talking to Glen—the conversation was easy and natural. By the time Dory and Marsh got back we’d covered topics such as his major (animal husbandry), why he chose Arizona (his girlfriend was going there, but they broke up two weeks into the first semester), and why I was traveling all over the country with my cousins (I gave him Dory’s story, not mine).

  We hadn’t even noticed that the barrel racing had started until Dory and Marshall got back and she said, “Iris didn’t race yet, did she? I didn’t miss her?”

  I said she hadn’t, but I was embarrassed that I didn’t really know for sure. How could I have gotten so involved talking with Glen that I wasn’t even watching? Thank goodness, a few minutes later we saw Iris come trotting out of the barn on Silverfoot, her brown hat tilted back, her chin held high.

  Each horse did the circuit alone so there was no chance of running into anybody else—the contest was just about who was the fastest. Mel started everybody off and held the stopwatch. Most of the kids weren’t very good, although two of the girls were obviously veterans. Iris didn’t go very fast—you could tell she was sort of nervous leaning so far over to the side when Silverfoot rounded the barrels—but she didn’t fall off and she finished the race. Joe ran up and took Silverfoot’s reins when she finished and you could tell he was praising her performance. I sort of wished we could stay here longer, for Iris’s sake.

  She was so happy when she came to join us on the fence—positively glowing. Glen said hello to her and told her she’d done a great job, and she thanked him, but she didn’t look at his face.

  As I’d imagined, Jackson was among the cowboys demonstrating their roping and riding skills.

  “Aren’t you going to show off, too?” I asked Glen.

  He grinned. “Not tonight. Sometimes I sit one out so Jackson can look good.”

  “Oh, what a good sport,” I said, teasing him. Who’d have guessed he’d be so easy to talk to?

  When the rodeo was over we all headed back to the bunkhouse and Glen walked part of the way with us. When the others pulled ahead he stopped walking and I did too.

  “Well, I guess I’ll say good-bye since you’re leaving in the morning.”

  “Yeah. Nice to talk to you.”

  He nodded. “I wish you were staying longer. That’s the problem with this job—you just get to know somebody and then they leave.”

  I knew right then that Glen wanted to kiss me and I was shocked. Chris was the only boy I’d ever kissed—since I met him I’d never even thought about kissing anybody else. What was even worse was, I sort of wanted Glen to kiss me. Not that I had a big crush on him or anything, but I liked him, and it would have been very nice to kiss him, a sweet memory to take away from the Lazy River Ranch.

  Of course, I couldn’t kiss him. No way. I’d really feel like a totally horrible person then. The only thing I could think to do was to stick out my hand. I felt very dorky, but Glen got the message. We shook hands, and said good-bye, and I ran on into the living room of our bunkhouse. I closed the door and my eyes simultaneously, thankful to have escaped a close call. But when I opened my eyes, Iris was standing in front of me, waiting, fuming, her hands on her hips.

  “What is going on, Robin? I thought you had a boyfriend?”

  Apparently Iris was hoping to stay up late into the night debating whether it was right or wrong for me to enjoy Glen’s company for a few hours if I was in love with someone else. I assured her all we’d done was talk.

  “You were walking awfully close to him,” she said accusingly. “And laughing, too!”

  “There’s a law against laughing?”

  “You know what I mean!”

  I did, but I wasn’t going to admit it to a thirteen-year-old. “Calm down, Iris,” I said, and walked into the bathroom to get ready for bed. She followed me.

  “You said you were in love with Chris!”

  “I am. I didn’t do anything!”

  “You better not.”

  “What are you—the Romance Police?”

  She watched me in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, which gave me time to remember her indiscretions of the night before. I spit, then said, “What about you? You kissed Jackson last night and you have a boyfriend at home.”

  She scowled. “First of all, I’m not in love with Parker, and second of all . . . he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

  “I thought you said you were hanging on to him until you got home?”

  She shook her head and flopped down on the toilet seat.

  “You already broke up with him?”

  I could barely hear her say, “He broke up with me before we left.”

  “Oh.” I soaped up my face and tried to think of the right response. After all, it wasn’t like this was a tragedy—most thirteen-year-olds’ relationships didn’t last more than a few weeks.

  “You can’t tell Mom, though.”

  I sighed. Every day there were more things I couldn’t tell Mom. “Why not? I don’t think she was expecting you to marry the guy.”

  “Just don’t. I don’t want her to think there’s something wrong with me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous—she wouldn’t think that. People break up with each other all the time.” Iris gave me a nasty look, grabbed her nightgown off the back of the door, and went into the bedroom.

  I waited until we were both in bed and the light was out. “The only thing wrong with you is your barfing habit.” It wasn’t actually the only thing wrong, but I was in a generous mood.

  She sprang back up. “It’s not a habit. I only do it once in a while.”

  “Yeah, only after the meals where you’ve actually eaten something.”

  “So, are you, like, watching me all the time now?”

  “Should I be?”

  “No!”

  “Okay. Then you don’t need to watch me either.”

  She threw herself down on the bed and burrowed beneath the quilt. I don’t know about Iris, but I fell asleep right away. Although not before wondering if I’d see Glen in the morning.

  Of course I didn’t. Glen was out on an early morning trail ride by the time we packed up the car and checked out. Just as well—what would have been the point? Even if I was ever going to see him again, it would be silly to lead him on when I already had a boyfriend. Although, now that I thought about it, I didn’t much like the idea that I’d never be able to get to know any other boys ever again, unless I broke up with Chris. Which would be terrible, of course. But at least I wouldn’t feel guilty for even thinking about somebody else!

  I drove first. Everybody was quiet as we left the Lazy River Ranch—I think we all would have been happy to spend another few days there. As soon as I pulled back out onto the highway I got a little thrill, like here we go again! There’s something so exciting about starting out on a trip, wondering what you’ll see and do—and this trip started new every day. I think I could get addicted to life on the road.

  When we crossed into Colorado, the mountains got bigger. Dory asked if
I was nervous driving in them, but I loved driving those roads. They were like roads on postcards, with big pine trees growing close on both sides so you felt like you were in a green tunnel. Then, when you came around a corner, the view was suddenly opened wide and you could see the Rocky Mountains with their snowy peaks.

  We were headed for Denver, but Marshall had been reading the guidebook and wanted to stop in a town called Golden first, to see the grave of Buffalo Bill. We weren’t in any hurry so we did. Actually his first choice was to go to Water World water park, but Dory said that was the kind of thing you could do anywhere, so they compromised on Buffalo Bill.

  Marsh was telling us all about a book he’d read on Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley and their Wild West shows. He was all excited about seeing where the guy was buried, but when we got out of the car and actually walked up to the big white stone, he got very quiet. After a minute I realized we were all very quiet, and it hit me why that would be. I was the only person there not suddenly remembering the last time I was at a grave site, or at least, the only person not remembering it sadly.

  All four of us stood staring mournfully at Buffalo Bill’s grave as if he’d just passed on yesterday. The silence was starting to give me a headache, but then Dory suggested we go through the museum as long as we were there—probably just to get us away from the grave. For some reason, looking at a bunch of old guns didn’t do much to perk us up either, so we went for lunch. Eating usually cheered people up, I’d noticed, even those who might not be planning to actually digest that cheeseburger.

  I was keeping my eye on Iris now, although I hoped she wouldn’t notice. She went into the bathroom first, but I followed soon enough after that I figured I’d be able to tell what had gone on. She passed me on her way out and smiled. “Don’t worry, Scooby Doo, you won’t find any clues in there.” So much for subtlety.

  Dory had found the Denver Botanic Gardens on her map and was determined to locate the real thing. When Iris and Marsh heard this, they dug in their heels.

  “A garden?” Marshall said. “Talk about something you can see anywhere.”

  “No, you can’t,” Dory explained. “Each region of the country grows different kinds of plants. I love botanical gardens.”

  As soon as we pulled into the place, Iris said, “I’m going to sit under that big tree and read. It’s too hot to tramp all over the place. I’ll look at your pictures later.”

  “Yeah!” Marsh agreed. “I’ll stay here and draw. I like drawing plants.”

  I could see Dory wasn’t crazy about the idea of leaving them alone. I wouldn’t have minded walking through the place just for the exercise, but then I remembered Dory with the squash and watermelons at the state fair. She was probably a fanatic about peonies or something, too.

  “I’ll stay here with them. I have my book along.”

  “Are you sure? It’s such a beautiful place.”

  “It’s beautiful right here, too,” I said. “We’ll enjoy one small part in depth while you take the grand tour.”

  Rather than being disappointed not to have company, Dory seemed sort of excited. I guess she didn’t get many chances to be by herself. She traded her sandals for hiking boots, dug a flower book out of the back of the car, and headed off, stopping every three feet to squat down and look a daisy in the eye. This wasn’t going to be a walk, it was going to be a meander. Just like this whole trip—the Zigzag Plan.

  The three of us grabbed our books and other gear and waved good-bye to her, for about five minutes. Finally she was out of sight and we sprawled on the grass under a huge beech tree.

  “That was brilliant!” Marshall said, looking at me with huge eyes. “That thing about how we’ll see one part in depth while she tramps all over the place—she really bought it.”

  “Oh, right. Like she thinks we’re going to be studying nature while she’s gone,” said Iris. “She’s not that stupid.”

  I had to agree. “I think she just wanted to be alone, to tell you the truth.”

  “I know how she feels. I wouldn’t mind being alone for a change either,” Iris said.

  “Me neither,” Marsh agreed. “I’m sick of always being with girls.”

  I laughed. “Well, I’m fairly sick of you guys, too, but we’re stuck with one another for a few more weeks, anyway.”

  After a moment’s silence, Iris shrugged. “I guess it could be worse.”

  “Yeah,” Marshall said. “We could be here without Robin.”

  Denver was okay. We did some city stuff. Ate in fancy restaurants, stayed in a big hotel, went to the zoo, went to an art museum. Marsh really enjoyed the museum; it was fun to watch him soak up the paintings he really liked.

  I kept waiting for Dory to bring up the subject of the new school, but she didn’t. Maybe because we’d somehow managed the delicate balance of goodwill among cousins and she was afraid to rock the boat. Then, the morning we were leaving Denver, Dory said, “Oh, heck, let’s go to Water World after all!” It smacked of bribery; I figured she’d spring the news on them before nightfall.

  We parked in the sprawling lot and opened the back of the van to search through the luggage for our swimming suits. I pulled out my old Speedo, which had once been red and white, but was now more like gray and pink from many hours in the sun and Thunder Lake. Iris had unpacked two tiny strips of vivid blue cloth from her bag and let them dangle from her fingers while she inspected my suit.

  “You’re wearing that?” From the look on her face you’d have thought the Speedo was made from small dead animals.

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  Marshall glanced over. “Looks sort of dirty,” he said.

  “It isn’t dirty,” I said. “It’s just faded.”

  “And about thirty years old,” Iris continued. She picked at the seat gingerly. “The elastic’s all out of it.”

  I snatched it back from her. “So? I’ve had it for a while. I like it.” Even as I was defending it, I was remembering the way the material crawled up in the crack of my butt so I had to keep pulling at it all the time. But who even cared? Just because these two were used to having everything brand new all the time. . . .

  “I’ll tell you what,” Dory said. “They have a shop right here. Let me buy you a new suit.”

  Dory was on their side. Embarrassed to hang around in a stupid water park with somebody in an old swimming suit. I glared at her.

  “Robin, you haven’t let me buy you anything on this trip,” she said. “These two want everything they see, but you don’t ask for anything. Let me get you this. Please? You can’t really say you don’t need a new suit.” She smiled kindly.

  Of course I needed a new suit. Why hadn’t I realized that before I left Iowa? Mom would have given me the money for it. Letting Dory replace my ragged old suit was too humiliating. I shook my head.

  “Why not?” Iris was incredulous.

  Dory turned to her daughter with an irritated look. “Because your cousin was raised, as I was myself, to get full use out of an item before you throw it away and buy yourself a new one. I fully approve of that and I wish I’d been able to pass a little bit of midwestern frugality on to the two of you.” Then she turned back to me. “But really, Robin, that suit has outlived its usefulness.”

  When she put it that way, I had to laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

  All four of us walked around the swim shop looking at the overpriced tubes of rubbery material. Marshall’s contribution was primarily to point out the particularly ugly suits or the ones with flippy skirts to cover problem thighs.

  “Get this one!” he said, holding up a tiger-print suit with a tiger head snarling toothily in the crotch vicinity.

  Iris thought I needed a bikini. “You’re not that old and fat,” she told me. I thanked her heartily.

  I tried on a few as quickly as possible and settled for another Speedo with a racer back—black and orange this time.

  Dory approved, Iris said it was okay if I wanted to look like an athlete, and M
arshall, by then, had lost all interest in me and was trying on goggles.

  I actually thought I looked pretty good in the new suit—the extra pounds I’d put on after Chris left must have gotten worked off by all the exercise I’d been getting. Still, I was glad I’d stuck my old red-and-white suit back in my bag instead of pitching it as Iris suggested. I might want it again when I got back to Iowa. It was hard to know what I’d want, what I’d be like, after a trip like this.

  An odd thing happened when we got back to the parking lot after a few hours of sun and water. I offered to drive because Dory seemed a little bit tired—I thought she might have a headache because she kept squinting her eyes into the distance. But she said she was fine; she wanted to drive. So we climbed into the car and she turned on the ignition, then sat there staring out the windshield like she was at a drive-in movie.

  “Dory, are you okay?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Just thinking about things.”

  “Let’s get rolling!” Marshall commanded.

  Dory put the car in reverse and without even looking in the mirror or anything, started to back out of the space.

  “Mom! Stop!” Iris screamed. “There’s a car . . .”

  The rear bumpers of the two minivans banged each other and then bounced free.

  “Oh, my God!” Dory pulled the car back into the space and jumped out. “Are you all right? Is anybody hurt?” she yelled, running to see.

  A woman got out of the matching van. “We’re okay. I’m sorry—I thought you saw me backing out. It seemed like you were waiting . . .”

  “Oh, I was. I mean, I don’t know how this happened . . .”

  The woman inspected both their bumpers. “Well, no harm done, anyway. Could have been worse.”

  At that Dory burst into tears. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! It’s my fault!”

  Surprised, the woman took Dory’s arm. “Really it’s fine. No one was hurt, the cars are okay . . .”

  “Somebody could have been walking . . .” She sobbed even louder.