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  “I’m with you conceptually. Different trees, of course,” agreed Gabe. “Pull over, KT.”

  I steered the Jeep onto the shoulder of the road, and the boys hopped out and disappeared. Then I leaned back, closed my eyes, and thought about Willard but I couldn’t picture him. So I listened inside of my head really hard, and when I did, I could hear Paul Simon singing “Father and Daughter.” He’s one of my favorite singer/songwriters from the sixties. He sings so cool and sweet, and the words are so beautiful, I sang a little harmony with him:

  “I’m gonna watch you shine

  Gonna watch you grow

  Gonna paint a sign

  So you always know

  As long as one and one is two

  There could never be a father

  Love his daughter more than I love you.”

  I could almost feel my bio dad’s arms around me even though I couldn’t see his face. It felt so good, it made me smile, but I felt myself tearing up at the same time. Then I heard Jesse’s voice, and I got it together.

  “We found a little lake,” he told me. “There’s nobody around at all. We can wash off this road stink. I brought towels and soap and shampoo.”

  “Why am I not surprised you’d come equipped with toiletries?” I asked, even though I was glad he did.

  He scooped his stuff out of his initialed suitcase, and I followed him down a path. About a quarter of a mile in, I saw a hand-lettered sign with the words SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK and an arrow pointing down the path. A minute later, we walked into a little clearing where some scrubby bushes surrounded a greenish-blue pond. Gabe was already floating in it, wearing his shorts and glasses. Jesse took off his T-shirt, and I couldn’t help but notice that formidable sixpack all swimmers seem to have before he jumped in. I left my T and shorts on and joined them. We just floated around in the cool water for a while.

  “I wonder what my mom and dad are doing now,” Gabe asked, half to himself.

  “They’re probably scarfing down at a buffet table,” Jesse said. “Back in the day when we were a family, we cruised in the Bahamas. We each gained five pounds. It was . . .” His voice got a little choked and he tapered off.

  “Do your parents go on a lot of cruises?” I asked Gabe, trying to distract Jesse.

  “No, they won this trip in a ballroom dancing contest. They were into that stuff way before Dancing with the Stars. You should see them. My dad’s like this battering ram of an ex-football player, but he’s real graceful. And my mom is so tiny, he picks her up and spins her over his head. They’re awesome to watch. I would love to have that kind of relationship with someone, but I can’t even bring myself to ask anyone out.”

  “That’s usually the first step,” I told him. “But don’t sweat it, Butchie, that’ll change.” I paddled around him.

  Then I looked at his face and knew this was really painful and serious for him.

  “Truth is, Gabriel Butcherelli, I’m a little jealous of you and your parental units.”

  “They’re cool,” Gabe said. “But nobody’s life is perfect. There’s stuff I wish I could change when I’m out in the world.”

  “Like what?’ Jesse asked.

  “You know, the girl problem. I know I look kind of nerdy and not in a cool way. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve never had a date.”

  “Girls would like you if they got to know you,” Jesse said, soaping under his arms. “As long as you lay off the Silver Smoke trick.”

  “I never get far enough to do any magic tricks,” Gabe answered, missing the soap that was tossed to him.

  “If you want a girl, Butchie, my advice would be to lose the magic tricks completely, but still be yourself. Believe me, some girls are looking for Mr. Adorkable,” I told him. “They wouldn’t be caught dead with Swimmy.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Jesse protested.

  “Well, here I am,” Gabe said, fishing out the soap and flipping it to me. “A geek god. Just send ’em over.”

  Jesse opened a bottle of some kind of expensive shampoo, lathered his hair, and put the bottle in my outstretched hand. I poured it over my head and rubbed it in.

  “Save a little for me,” Gabe cautioned.

  “Listen, Butcherelli. Since we’re related, it’s in my interest to give you girl-talk lessons. I don’t want you going around embarrassing me,” Jesse said. “I’ve decided to invest some energy into thinking about it.” And with that he closed his eyes and floated away still lathered, with bubbles rising all around him.

  “He’s floating away to fart,” I said loud enough for Swimmy to hear me.

  Gabe poured on some shampoo and massaged his head. “I like this stuff,” he said. “It’s very alkaline.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It makes your hair lighter. In chem class, we found out if you dye your hair with certain dyes, it can take the color out of it.”

  I swallowed hard and submerged, rubbing my hands through my hair. When I came up for air, there was a circle of dark water around me, and Jesse was back.

  “Hey,” he smiled at me, “you look better.”

  “What do you mean?” I panicked.

  “Your hair looks different,” Gabe observed.

  “Oh my god!” I screamed.

  I splashed to shore and wrapped one of Jesse’s towels around my head.

  “We gotta go.”

  Just then the bushes parted, and two chicks on horses trotted to edge of the pool. They wore bathing suit tops, shorts, boots, and cowboy hats.

  “Hi, y’all,” said the redhead, scoping out Jesse. “I’m Dene, and this is JoBeth.”

  JoBeth waved and flashed a toothy smile at the boys, who were treading water. “Mind if I join you?” she asked, pulling off her cowboy hat to release a cascade of dark curls.

  “What else are you gonna take off?” Jesse grinned.

  “Whatcha got in mind, Blue Eyes?” JoBeth giggled.

  “You boys got names?” asked Dene.

  “I’m Jesse, and this is Gabe.”

  “We gotta go, man,” said Gabe, getting out of the water.

  “Hey, Gabe, whatcha look like without those glasses?” Dene asked.

  “I dunno,” Gabe answered seriously. “I can’t see when I look in the mirror without ’em.”

  Oh my god, Jesse’s lessons for Gabe could not start soon enough.

  “Let’s go, please,” I begged Gabe and Jesse. I was at a stomach-clenching level of anxious. Between Gabe and my hair situation, I was losing whatever cool I had left.

  “Well, honey lamb, I think you’re cute in a goofy kind of way,” Dene giggled.

  “C’mon, Jess. KT’s losing it. Get moving,” Gabe urged.

  Jesse rolled his eyes. “Damn,” he said, “this was just beginning to get interesting.” He climbed out of the water reluctantly and, I might add, slowly. JoBeth and Dene were properly impressed. I could have sworn that even the horses snorted.

  “Come on! We’re losing time!” I yelled. I wanted to get back to the Jeep and look in the mirror, even though I was scared to see my hair.

  “That your girlfriend, Jesse?” JoBeth asked, shooting daggers at me from her eyes.

  “No way! That’s my, uh, um . . . we’re related.”

  He was still waving at them as Gabe pushed and I pulled him down the path and back to the road.

  Gabe, who hadn’t had a bad allergy attack all through Texas, began sneezing and spraying again.

  “You allergic to girls?” Jesse wanted to know when we reached the car.

  Gabe threw him a look that, for Gabe, was a hostile look, but it wouldn’t have scared a bunny.

  “Absolutely not,” he retorted. “I’m just confused. When they’re not interested, I get depressed, and when something like what just happened happens, I get scared. I haven’t the faintest idea what girls want from me. I gotta figure out how to relate. It’s too lonely like this.”

  And then I screamed so loud that I scared all of us, including me. There in the side-view m
irror, I saw my freshly towel-dried hair. It was blah, bland, boring. It was my real color, blond. I looked like . . . how can I say this . . . grotesquely normal. My black hair was gone, my blue streak was gone, my persona was gone—my whole sense of me had been washed away in a New Mexico desert pool by Swimmy’s super shampoo. I now looked like, horror of horrors . . . Jesse.

  “Oh my god!” I crawled into the back seat with my head in my hands.

  “Hey, KT, don’t freak. It looks good, really. You look nice,” Gabe said softly.

  “Nice is the last way I want to look,” I growled.

  “Please don’t be mad at me,” Jesse begged. “I didn’t know. I use that shampoo all the time.”

  “I’m sure you do, Blondie,” I sniffled.

  “I have some disappearing black ink in my magic case. We could pour it on your head,” Gabe offered.

  “What good is it if it disappears?” snapped Jesse.

  “Maybe it won’t disappear on hair,” Gabe whispered hopefully.

  “I feel naked and wrong. Don’t look at me,” I said. “Let’s just go.”

  “Let’s take our chances on the interstate,” Jesse whispered to Gabe. “We gotta make something good happen for her, fast.”

  I pulled the door closed, lay down on the seat next to my guitar, and threw my sweatshirt over my head. I was horrified, but way down deep, though I would never admit it, I really felt it was very cool and kind of reassuring to look like someone I knew.

  “Wake me up when we get to Sedona,” I told them.

  Then, like someone in shock, which I was, I passed out.

  chapter sixteen

  When I woke up, we had reached Sedona for sure. The sky was turning pink and orange, and the strange red rock formations looked just like the ones I’d seen in pictures. There were castles and rabbit ears and Snoopy, and even a few that looked like body parts. The whole landscape had a funny kind of otherworldly feeling to it, like we’d entered some kind of parallel universe. I took a peek in the mirror. Unfortunately my hair looked like crap in this universe, too.

  “Next right is Mountain Road, Gabe,” Jesse said as he traced our progress on a map.

  I sat up, ran my fingers through the stuff on my head, and tried not to think about my follicles. I didn’t want anything to spoil the moment that was waiting for me, the moment of meeting my bio dad, the real one.

  The route kept winding, taking us higher up into the mountains. The dust swirled around the Jeep as we bumped along the unpaved road. There were no houses along the way, just rocks and trees and some places where bunches of daisies grew out of the dirt alongside the road. I thought they looked like hope would look if it were a flower.

  “Whoa, Gabe, slow down!” Jesse ordered, and I felt my heart beating double time. There was a sign up ahead, and as we drew closer, we could see it: PINCHEKUS CERTIFIED HYPNOTHERAPY AND FAMILY COUNSELING – 2 MILES. We exploded with cheers, and Gabe pressed down on the accelerator.

  In a little while, we slowed to read another sign: HEADACHES? LICENSED KINESIOLOGIST 1.8 MILES. We cheered again. Then another: REGISTERED TATTOO ARTIST AND CONFIDENTIAL BODY PIERCING BY WILLARD – 1/2 MILE. We cheered a little half-heartedly.

  “That’s probably just a hobby,” Gabe said.

  “Sure,” I agreed. “He’s an artist.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Jesse.

  Then: ACCREDITED AIR DUCT CLEANING 500 YARDS. Our cheer was kind of feeble this time. It faded completely at MEDICAL COLONICS and then exploded when we saw the lettering under it: NOT HERE. 5 MILES BACK ON RED ROCK ROAD.

  “Gabe, stop for a minute,” I said.

  Gabe pulled to the side of the winding dirt road.

  “You look fine,” he said. “Believe me.”

  “It’s not that,” I told him. “I want to remember this moment and how it feels. It’s my last moment of not knowing who I really am. After today, that empty place inside me is gonna be filled in and filled up. I’m going to make sense to myself and to the world.”

  “It can only be an improvement,” cracked Jesse.

  “Shut it down, man,” Gabe reprimanded him. “She’s right. We should do something like drink a toast.”

  “My bad,” admitted Jesse, pulling a water bottle from the cup holder. “Here’s to 908—to Willard, our dad. Pinchekus kids rule!” He took a swig and passed it to Gabe. Gabe gulped and handed it me. I took it and finished off the bottle.

  “I’m ready now,” I said. “Let’s go, boys.”

  We pulled into a dirt parking area at the top of the mountain next to a three-wheeled car that had what looked like homemade solar panels attached to the roof. We got out of the Jeep in slow motion, or at least it felt like slow motion. We looked up and our mouths fell open. In front of us, a white pyramid rose from the desert floor. Whirligigs lined the path leading to it, and goats, chickens, and baby pigs wandered around. We stood there speechless.

  “I guess King Tut found the simple life,” Gabe breathed. “Whoever he is, he’s our dad, so don’t make fun,” I told him.

  “Check this out,” Jesse laughed. A piglet was rubbing against his leg and looking up at him adoringly. Jesse picked it up and scratched it behind its ear. The minute he put it down, the little porker began to squeal. “I guess he’s coming with us,” Swimmy said. He picked up the baby pig, which promptly began licking his face.

  As we headed up the path, a large tattooed woman stepped out from behind a boulder. We all jumped. She was wearing one Ugg boot and struggling to hold onto a large snake with a huge lump in its middle.

  “Oh my goodness,” she said. “You almost made me drop Luna.”

  “Please don’t do that,” I pleaded.

  “She is a little cranky,” admitted the woman. “We’re going to the vet. That’s what we get for eating my Uggs,” she said to the snake. “A big tummy ache.” She smiled at us. “I’m Aurora. Go on up. Willard’s expecting you.”

  “But he doesn’t know we’re coming,” Gabe asserted. “How could he be expecting us?”

  Aurora headed for the little car. “He knows everything,” she threw over her shoulder. “He has a psychic degree from Horvard.”

  As she zipped out of her parking spot, we walked up the path and then onto an adjoining ramp leading to the pyramid entrance. At the open door stood a shadowed figure, arms extended in welcome. As we got closer, we could see that he was wiry, barefoot, and wearing faded cutoff jeans. He looked to be in his late thirties, about the age of all my mom’s boyfriends, but his head was bald and shiny.

  “I’m Willard,” he said, smiling. “And I know you’re not here for tattoos.”

  “Maybe one that says ‘Dad,’” I choked out, holding back all the stuff that was welling up in me.

  “In a heart, of course.” He smiled, turned, and walked back into the house. We followed him into a big room with pillows strewn across the stone floor. Jesse was still carrying the piglet.

  In one corner was a dental-type chair facing a huge window. Next to it was a table with a tattoo gun, disposable gloves, and dyes. A deck jutted out into space, facing the red rock mountains. Willard walked toward the chair and we trailed him, all talking at once.

  “You gotta tell me,” Jesse implored. “Do you shave your head or am I gonna be bald?”

  “Did you build this place? Do you know anything about magic?” Gabe wanted to know.

  “Are you musical? Were you ever in a bad mood for, like, years?” I asked.

  “We’re 908 sperm donor kids,” Gabe finally announced.

  Willard climbed into the chair and swiveled to face us. He nodded and smiled.

  “I know,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  chapter seventeen

  “Aurora made lemonade for you this morning. Of course she’s made it for the past three mornings. Sometimes my estimated times of arrival are a little off.”

  Willard pointed to a stool with a tray, a pitcher, and three glasses. “Help yourselves.”

  We poured
our drinks in silence as the sun slowly disappeared into the mountains behind our biological father’s gleaming dome. The piglet followed Jesse and crawled into his lap when we sat down on the floor cushions at Willard’s feet.

  “I’m KT,” I said, looking up at him. For the first time in my life, I felt kind of timid.

  “Of course you are,” he smiled.

  “I’m Jesse. Please, I need the 411 on the hair situation, ASAP.”

  “It will be revealed,” Willard answered. “And you are?”

  “I’m Gabe.”

  “Well, Gabe, Jesse, and KT, I’m sure you want to know everything from the beginning.”

  “Every single detail,” I said. I was feeling all emotional and weepy at the thought of hearing the story of my own creation.

  “And you shall. You must,” Willard continued. He settled back and closed his eyes as if to picture the past in perfect detail, and then he began. “The day I went to Cryosperm was miraculous. The moon was in Aquarius, and it also happened to be garbage day. My tuition check to Horvard had bounced, and I was desperate to continue my Samoan language studies. Cryosperm had accepted my application, and they paid fifty dollars, a princely sum for someone of my limited means. I was also uplifted by the idea that my seed would be put to such good use. I felt sure that my profile would be chosen since at that point in time, I resembled a young Kurt Cobain.”

  “Then you did have hair. What happened?” Jesse’s voice was intense.

  “Patience, Jesse,” Willard answered. He steepled his hands as if praying for guidance and went on. “I used a Walkman in my linguistic curriculum, and I was strolling to Cryosperm, deeply engrossed in conjugating the verb alofa, meaning ‘to love,’ when I reached the edge of the sidewalk opposite my destination. I could have sworn the sign blinked ‘WALK’ so I stepped off the curb. Because of my earphones, I was unaware that a nearby garbage truck was loading trashcans. Across the street, although I did not know it then, my beautiful Aurora was ready to cross as she sipped a large Slurpee. I didn’t hear either the garbage truck or the approaching motorcycle. Nor did I see a piece of watermelon rind escape from a trashcan and roll into the street, although later Aurora told me that’s what occurred. I happened to look up in time to see Aurora frantically signaling danger approaching, but I had no time to react. By the time I turned to see the oncoming Harley motorcycle, it had already skidded on the rind and crashed, into . . . my crotch.”