CHAPTER 5
“A real gun?” says Emily Riordan. She has dark hair and freckles and green eyes in her caramel-colored face.
“Yeah,” says Braedon. “A twenty-two-caliber pistol that holds ten in the clip and one in the chamber. It’s my grandad’s. He used to be in the guards. But they’re called police here.”
“What’s that rock behind ya?” says Emily.
They FaceTime between Riverwood, Minnesota, and Galway, Ireland. Braedon sits on the same stump he shot the Coke can off of, purposely positioning himself so the bluff is behind him and the sun shining through the river birch makes him look outdoorsy and manly.
“It’s not a rock,” says Braedon. “It’s a bluff made of limestone. That’s why it’s yellowish orange. Dad says the limestone makes the rivers around here extra rich in minerals. That’s why the flieslike to lay their eggs in them. And that’s why trout like to live in these rivers. To eat the flies.”
“Flies?” says Emily. “Sounds disgusting.”
“Not those kind of flies,” says Braedon. “They’re mayflies and caddisflies and stoneflies. They don’t bother people. They don’t bite or try to live on dog shit or anything. They’re actually kind of pretty. I’ll take a picture of one and text it to you.”
When Braedon lived in Galway, Emily lived across the street. They’ve been friends since they were six. Now that he’s twelve, he’s starting to have more-than-friends feelings for Emily. And she might have them for him, too. He can’t tell. Braedon’s friend Daniel says if Emily does have more-than-friends feelings for Braedon, it’s only because she wants Braedon to take her to Disneyland or Universal or something like that. She’s just using him now because he’s in America. But Braedon doesn’t believe Daniel. Or maybe he does a little but he doesn’t care. Daniel’s just jealous he doesn’t ever FaceTime with someone as pretty as Emily Riordan.
“Have you seen any cowboys or Indians?” says Emily.
“Sure,” says Braedon. “Some guys around here work with horses. They wear cowboy hats and jeans with big belt buckles. But not nearly as many here as you’d see in Texas or Oklahoma. And the whole country has Indians but you’re not supposed to call them that.”
“What do you call them, then?”
“Indigenous people. Because they were here first.”
“I don’t think we have those in Ireland,” says Emily. “Just Irish people.”
“Yeah,” says Braedon. “I think that’s right.”
“Like your ma.”
“That’s what Dad says. But I only knew her when I was a baby so I don’t remember. It’s like I never met her.”
“I bet if she ever met you,” says Emily, “she would want to be your ma.” Emily offers Braedon a sad smile.
Even on his tiny phone screen, Braedon can see something nice in Emily’s eyes. “I asked Dad if we can come back for a visit. He said maybe someday.”
“That’d be grand,” says Emily. “We could walk down to Murphy’s for an ice cream. They’re getting new flavors all the time.”
“Perfect,” says Braedon. “I’ll bring my euros. They’re good for nothing over here.”
Emily nods. Makes sense. “You still getting along with your grandad?”
“Yeah. He’s the best. But he’s kind of worried now because my uncle Teddy disappeared.”
“Disappeared? Where’d he go?”
“Don’t know. I saw him two nights ago. But when my aunt Deb woke up yesterday, Teddy was gone. He’s super nice. Everyone likes him. But Dad says Teddy used to get in trouble and sometimes still does.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“I guess once he grew some marijuana plants on the land he and Deb live on. And when they got big, he dried them in the pole barn and baked it into cookies and stuff. That was before it was legal here. He had to go to jail for six months. And another time he used to buy stolen guitars and make ’em look differentby refinishing them and changing the tuner knobs and stuff and then sell them on the internet. He was supposed to go to jail for that, too, but the government lawyers did something wrong so he didn’t have to.”
“So he’s like a good outlaw?” says Emily. “Like he robs and thieves and people still like him?”
“I guess,” says Braedon. “But mostly he’s just nice. He’s teaching me to play guitar.”
“That’s cool,” says Emily. “Hey, do you ever go to Los Angeles?”
