Hector Running Wolf and Billy Youngston“Heck?”
“Huh?”
“You wanna do it?”
My back went cold from goosebumps while my groin caught fire. We were out in the woods at the old lean-to we’d made back when we were kids. It wasn’t the first time I’d thought about what he was saying. Not by a long shot. But Billy was the white man’s coyote. A trickster. Sometimes he’d come out with these outlandish suggestions and then make a joke of them. Mostly they were for fun, but sometimes they bit.
I didn’t even know why we were best friends. Sons of a white farmer and a Creek carpenter, we were an unlikely pair. White sugar and red pepper, my mom used to say with a shake of her head. But friends we were, ever since we’d laid eyes on one another in middle school five years back.
I remember the first tim
