“Quit being a damn baby.”
Luke wanted to say something stronger, something that would shake Bunna awake. Maybe the words he needed were Iñupiaq words, and maybe he had spoken English so long he no longer knew them. Or maybe there were just some things words couldn’t say. Th
ings nobody could say.
“We could make money this summer,” he says. “Go to
Fairbanks like Amiq . . .”
Amiq was going to have a job in Fairbanks this summer, live with a family—they could, too, Luke thinks, him and Bunna.
“Forget it,” Bunna snaps.
“Grow up, man, it’s—”
“Forget it!” Bunna’s mouth is like some kind of slingshot, shooting rock-hard words. Bing, bing, bing. And his ears seem plugged shut with those same rocks.
More than anything, Luke wants to shake him, shake the rocks right out of his head. Shake and shake and shake.
“Why don’t you just—.” His voice rises perilously.
“Forget it!” Bunnna barks.
“Hell, if you can’t even—”
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“FORGET IT!”
“LISTEN!” Luke hollers, using the side of his fi st to open Bunna’s ears, shoving him right up against the bed, slamming him hard. Shoving him into the wall. “Damn it! What’s the matter with you?” Luke’s been gritting his teeth so hard, his jaw aches. “We could make some money, staying here!”
He slams Bunna into the wall with a perfect uppercut, trying to follow the rules, just like Father Mullen taught them, but suddenly both of them are on the fl oor, lunging at each other’s throats, not following any rules to any game either of them ever played. Making for themselves a new game, danger-ous as thin ice.
And Bunna’s strong, too—as strong as Luke, maybe even stronger. But Luke weighs more, and he has Bunna pinned against the fl oor, pinned hard enough to leave marks. Glaring down at him. Bunna glares right back, without a sound.
Fierce as a wolverine. Fierce and a little desperate, Luke realizes suddenly. Like an animal caught in a trap. Th e thought
scares him.
“Look,” he says, letting up, “it just don’t feel right, us going home this time. Okay? Something’s not right. It’s just a feeling I have.”
Bunna looks at him. All of a sudden he understands what Luke is trying to say—you can see it in his eyes—but there’s nothing he can do about it. You can see that, too.
“I gotta go home.” He says it so slow and low, it sounds like each word is sucking the breath right out of him.
“I just . . . have to.”
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Luke has no choice: he has to let go. Th
ere isn’t anything
more he can do. He sees it in Bunna’s eyes. Bunna is going home because he has to, and Luke isn’t because he can’t. And all because of a bunch of dumb feelings nobody in their right mind would want to feel.
Th
ey’d never ever been apart before. Th
is thought hits
Luke like lightning. In their whole lives, they’ve never spent a single day apart.
Bunna stands up, rubbing his shoulder. Luke stands up, too, scared and confused. Th
e whole world is spinning out of
control, like a wounded animal running, and there is nothing left to hold onto. Nothing except that gun, standing next to Bunna. Uncle Joe’s gun.
“You’re not taking the gun.”
Bunna shoves it at him. “So keep it.”
And then they just stand there, the gun in between the two them like the ghost of the fi ght, still beating in their hearts.
And there is nothing else to be said.
Nothing at all.
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Eskimo Kiss
JUNE 7, 1963
CHICKIE
—
We earned enough Betty Crocker coupons for a new bus, but it was time for summer vacation, and the bus wouldn’t come until fall, so we had to ride the old military bus one more time, all the way to Fairbanks. Bunna was going home for the summer, but Luke wasn’t, which was weird. Th
ose two are like
Mutt and Jeff , and I couldn’t fi gure out why Luke would stay at school when Bunna wasn’t going to. Or why Bunna would go when Luke was staying.
I climbed up into the bus and sat down on a squeaky seat by a window on the school side, watching everybody fi le in. Donna and Sonny stood outside by the wall, watching us. Th ey weren’t
going home either, and they looked really small and lonely, standing there all by themselves. Bunna climbed onboard and sat down right smack in front of me, staring out the window at Sonny and Donna, only he wasn’t really looking at them, I could tell. He was staring at the spot right next to them, where Luke should have been but wasn’t—an empty stretch of wall, 155
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gray as smoke. Bunna glared at that spot like he was trying to ignite it with his eyes, staring so hard I bet he didn’t see the fl icker of movement in one of the windows of the boys’ dorm, didn’t even see Luke’s face hover there for just a second.
Rose and Evelyn came bursting out of the door, late as usual. Rose was dragging a duffl
e almost as big as she was,
and Sonny grabbed it from her like he was John Wayne or something.
Th
en, before anybody knew
