Sons of the Mesa.

[Soapy]

Season 1, Episode 5
Kayla was at the table with her backpack open, pulling things out and stacking them on the table. A folder. A pencil case. A crumpled permission slip she smoothed flat with her palm and looked at.

"This was due Friday," she said.

"What is it?" Micah looked up.

"The end of year thing. The picnic."

"I thought that was last week."

"Yeah but I was supposed to bring the slip before.”

"So you didn’t go?"

"I did go."

"So what do you need?"

"I don't know. Nothing. I just found it."

She put it back in the bag and kept looking for whatever she'd actually been looking for.

Arianna pressed herself against his leg, chin tilted up, watching the knife. He cut the first piece into four triangles, crusts off, and started on the second.

He set the plate down in front of her. She climbed into her chair.

Kayla zipped the bag closed, apparently having decided she either found what she was looking for or had given up on finding it. She pulled her plate of eggs and bacon towards her.

"Are we doing anything this summer?" she asked.

"Like what?" Micah responded, moving over to the kitchen counter where his binder was sprawled open. He grabbed a pencil and jotted down a few words.

"I don't know. Like a trip or something."

"Where do you want to go?"

She shrugged. "Somewhere."

"Somewhere."

"Flagstaff maybe. Or like the Grand Canyon or something. Destiny's family went to California."

"Good for Destiny's family."

Kayla moved the eggs around on her plate. Micah left the kitchen counter and started on Arianna's hair.

"Tighter," Arianna said.

"It's already tight."

"Tighter."

He pulled the band one more notch. She reached up and touched it and seemed satisfied.

The clock above the stove read six forty-two.

The front door opened and Delvin came through it, still in his vest, the reflective stripes catching the kitchen light.

"Morning," he grunted more than said.

"Morning," they grunted back.

He crossed the kitchen, went down the hall, and knocked on the door to Micah’s room. Hard. Three times.

“He’s not here,” Micah said.

Delvin kept his hand on the door.

“He didn’t come home last night.”

Delvin scoffed. He pushed off the door and disappeared into his own room at the end of the hall. A second later the shower came on, the pipes groaning through the wall.

Micah turned back to the stove. He pulled another piece of toast out, buttered it, grabbed another plate from the cabinet and set it on the counter.

Kayla was still at the table, her eggs mostly untouched, her phone in her hand.

Micah poured her a glass of orange juice and set it next to her plate. She didn’t look up.

The shower ran. The pipes groaned.

Micah moved back to the kitchen counter.

“What are you writing?” Arianna said.

“Nothing.”

“Can I see?”

“No.”

She went back to her toast. He kept writing. The pencil moved in short bursts, then stopped, then moved again. He crossed something out. Wrote over it.

He wrote another line. Read it. Wrote the next one.

The shower shut off. The pipes gave one last groan and went quiet. Micah kept writing. He was close to the bottom of the page now. Three lines, maybe four.

He wrote another line. Crossed out the last word. Wrote a different one.

Delvin’s door opened. He came down the hall in clean clothes, his hair still wet, comb tracks visible in it.

"That one’s yours," Micah didn’t look up from the page.

Delvin grunted, grabbing the piece of toast. He opened the fridge, took out a water bottle, chugged it and grabbed another one, tossing the empty one into the nearby trash as he headed for the door.

He turned around.

“Gas station on 264,” he said. “Seven tonight. Don’t be late.”

Micah nodded.

The front door opened and closed. The truck started outside, idled for a second, and pulled away.

Micah looked at the page. One line left. He wrote it. Read it. Closed the binder.

“Backpacks,” he said.

Edison sat behind the desk with the folder open in front of him. Jace had seen him around but had never spoken to him before. His voice was rougher than he expected.

"So," Edison said. "Tell me about yourself."

Jace shifted in the chair. The suit was new. Not new new, but new enough that the shoulders still sat wrong and the collar kept pressing against his neck.

"It's all on there," Jace said. He nodded at the folder. "And you spoke with Shania, right?"

Edison laughed. He pulled the glasses down off his head and set them on the desk. "I've spoken to Shania. And I can read." He tapped the folder. "I want to hear it from you."

Jace laughed too. "Yeah. That makes sense."

He sat up a little straighter. The chair was one of those office chairs with the arms, and his knees kept bumping the underside of the desk.

"Grew up here. Like everyone else I’m sure. I’ve got a brother, a sister. Two, actually. My cousin, she stays with us. I ran cross-country in high school. Baseball too. And I've been working at the old mine the last few years."

Edison nodded. He didn't write anything down yet. He just sat there with his hands folded on top of the folder, waiting.

"And why EMT?" Edison said.

Jace looked at the desk. There was a coffee mug on it, half full, and a pen sitting next to a notepad. The notepad had writing on it but he couldn't read it from where he was sitting.

"I want to help the community," Jace said. "You know. Give back. Be part of something."

Edison paused. He picked up the pen and wrote something on the notepad. He nodded while he wrote.

Jace laughed. "If you've talked to Shania, you know that's bullshit."

Edison looked up. He laughed too.

"I'm tired of the sun," Jace said. "I'm tired of ten-hour days and I'm tired of knowing the job's gonna end. I want something that's not gonna dry up in a few months, a year if I’m lucky. A real job. Something that's still gonna be there."

Edison didn't write that down. He just looked at him.

"EMT work isn't glamorous," Edison said. "The training's hard. It's rigorous. And it's unpaid. It's probably better than the mine. But only slightly."

Jace nodded.

"I know," he said.

The printer hummed and spat the page out. Micah pulled it off the tray before the second sheet could follow and folded it once, then again, and shoved it into his back pocket. The library was empty except for the librarian behind the desk, who didn't look up.

He took the stairs two at a time. The hallway was quiet, the lockers all closed, the last of the buses pulling away from the curb outside. He pushed through the double doors into the locker room.

Coach Sau was sitting at his desk inside the small office, a stack of papers on the table next to him, a pen behind his ear. He looked up when the door hit the wall.

"You're late."

"Sorry, Coach. I was waiting on the teachers to finalize the grades."

Coach Sau held his hand out. Micah pulled the paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it over. Coach Sau held it at arm's length, then brought it closer. He read down the page, his mouth moving slightly, and then he looked up.

"B-minus," he said. "I bet you wish Miss Cordova taught all your classes."

Micah didn't answer.

Coach Sau set the report card on top of the stack. He reached down beside his desk and picked up a small pile of envelopes, held together with a rubber band. He handed them over.

Micah looked at them. The logos were all different sizes, some glossy, some matte. One had a bison on it. Another had a cross. Ottawa University. Arizona Christian University. Wayland Baptist University. Montana Western. Southern Utah University. Idaho State University.

"You need to improve these grades," Coach Sau said. He tapped the stack of report cards with the back of his hand. "And you need to take your ACT if you want any of these to mean something."

"Yes, sir."

[Captain Canada]

Promise you U of Ottawa don't want this dude

[redsox907]

Jace going to be a medic eh? How's Delvin going to take him breaking away from the family? Even ol boy at school seems to be on the outside.

I dunno how fun playing a TE would be

[Soapy]

Promise you U of Ottawa don't want this dude

keep it cute

Jace going to be a medic eh? How's Delvin going to take him breaking away from the family? Even ol boy at school seems to be on the outside.

I dunno how fun playing a TE would be

The burden of the crown rarely is

[Soapy]

Season 1, Episode 6
The alarm had been going for a while.

Micah’s eyes opened and the room was still dark, the phone still buzzing on the nightstand next to his head, the screen lit up with the time. He grabbed it and killed the alarm and sat up.

On the other side of the room, Jace was face-down in his pillow, one arm hanging off the edge of the mattress, the sheet kicked down around his ankles.

Micah swung his legs off the bed and crossed the room. He put his hand on Jace’s shoulder and shook it once, light.

“Jace.”

Jace grunted.

“Jace."

Jace turned away, pulling the sheet up over his head. The arm that had been hanging off the bed disappeared under the covers.

Micah stood there for a second. Then he turned and left the room.

The bathroom light was harsh. He squinted against it and turned the faucet on and brushed his teeth standing in front of the mirror, the toothpaste foaming at the corners of his mouth. He spit. Rinsed. Splashed water on his face and dried it with the towel hanging on the hook behind the door.

The kitchen was quiet. He pulled the bread off the counter and the peanut butter from the cabinet and the jelly from the fridge and started making sandwiches. Two of them. He cut the crusts off Arianna’s and left Kayla’s whole. He found the apples in one of the fridge drawers, and cut them into slices and put them in small plastic containers. He scraped the last of the peanut butter onto a piece of bread and folded it in half and ate it standing at the counter.

His shoulders ached. His lower back ached. He rolled his shoulders and the ache moved but didn’t go anywhere.

Through the window over the sink, headlights swung into the driveway. The faded blue of Kele’s Cherokee caught the porch light.

He put the sandwiches in the lunch bags and zipped them shut. He set everything by the door on the small table where it always went.

Micah turned from the window. He went down the hall to his room, pulled the blue shorts off the back of the chair and stepped into them, picked out a white tee from the dresser and pulled it over his head. The running shoes were under the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and laced them and stood up.

The front door opened and closed behind him. The morning air hit him cold and he sucked his teeth at it, at the whole thing, at the fact that it felt like he’d just walked through this door coming the other direction.

“If we’re late, I’m telling coach it was your ass,” Kele said.

Micah pulled the door shut. The Cherokee smelled like cigarettes and the pine air freshener Kele kept clipped to the vent.

Micah grunted as he laid his head on the headrest and closed his eyes.

Kele put it in reverse.

“This is fucking bullshit,” Kele helped lift the bar off the rack and was already talking before the plates had stopped rattling. “Sun ain’t even up. We should be conditioning while it’s cool and lifting after.”

Dustin was standing next to the rack, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. “I’d rather lift fresh.”

“That’s because you ain’t gonna lift shit in here anyway. You still waking up right now."

“Fuck you.”

“Naawakna.” Micah said it without looking up from the bar. He brought it down to his chest, held it there a beat, and pressed it back up. The plates clanked when the bar hit the hooks.

Kele laughed but did shut up.

The weight room was split into four stations, each one a squat rack and a bench press set up back to back. Coach Tso had written the groups on the whiteboard by the door before he’d left for the track with the rookies. Micah’s group was at the far station, against the back wall, where the rubber mats were thinnest and the floor underneath was concrete.

Dustin went first because he was the lightest. One-forty-five on the bench. He got his eight reps clean and sat up, and Garrison slid in behind him without waiting to be told. Garrison got his eight at one-eighty-five and rolled off the bench and Micah took his spot. Two-twenty five. He got his eight and racked it and Kele was already lying down, pulling the bar off before Micah had fully stood up. Two-seventy-five. Kele got his eight and sat up blowing air through his teeth.

Second set. Dustin bumped to one sixty. Garrison stayed at one-eighty-five. Micah went to two-seventy-five on the bench and Kele matched it.

Third set. Micah put three-oh-five on the bench. Kele looked at it and didn’t say anything. He loaded the same and got his eight but the last rep stalled halfway up and Micah had to grab the bar and help him finish. Kele sat up and wiped his face and didn’t look at anybody.

They rotated to the squat rack. Same order. Dustin at one-eighty. Garrison at two-twenty. Micah at two-seventy-five. Kele at three-oh-five.

Dustin stayed at one-eighty. Garrison went to two-seventy-five. Micah went to three-oh-five. Kele went to three fifteen and got his eight but the last two were slow.

Final set. Micah went to three fifteen. Kele matched it, racked it and walked to the water fountain again.

They moved on to auxiliary exercises. A circuit of flys, shrugs and raises with dumbbell. About halfway through the third round, Micah headed out the hallway. The water fountain was at the far end, near the double doors that led to the track. He could see the rookies through the glass, still running, the sun just starting to come up over the mesa behind them, the sky going from gray to pale orange at the horizon.

Nobody was in the hallway. The weight room noise faded behind him as he walked.

He bent over the fountain and drank. The water was cold. He drank until his stomach felt tight and then he straightened up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He looked left. Nobody. He looked right. Nobody.

He slid down along the wall and hit the floor.

Through the double doors at the end of the hall, the sun was just clearing the mesa. The light came through the windows in long pale bars and fell across the floor around him, not quite reaching him where he sat.

He closed his eyes.

The front door opened and Shania came through it with her keys still in her hand and her purse slung over one shoulder. She stopped when she saw him.

“Jace.”

He didn’t move from the couch. He had one arm over his eyes and the other hanging off the edge, fingers brushing the carpet.

“You could have texted me,” she said. She dropped her purse on the chair by the door. “I gave you that key for emergencies. What if I was coming in here with somebody?”

“You’d need to find somebody first.”

She laughed. He laughed too, his chest shaking under his arm.

“You’re an asshole,” she said.

She crossed the living room and stood over him.

“You eat?”

“No.”

She went back to the door and dug into her purse and pulled out a Pyrex container and tossed it towards him.

He sat up.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

“Thank you.”

He started eating with the plastic fork that was still in the container.

“You know I have a microwave right?” she asked. She sat down on the arm of the couch next to him. “I’m not that broke."

“Shift starts in fifteen.”

“So?”

“So you know how my dad gets.”

She made a face. He kept eating. The chicken was drier than he’d thought. He swallowed and took another bite.

“How’d it go with Edison?”

He shrugged. Took another bite.

“Jace.”

He chewed. Swallowed. Shrugged again.

She looked at him for a second. Then she laughed, short and quiet.

“Must have gone well then.”

The floodlights hit the asphalt and turned it white, and the paver sat at the head of the line like something that had been sleeping and was now awake. Delvin pulled the truck onto the shoulder behind the last of the ADOT trucks and killed the engine.

Micah was already out. He grabbed the flagger vest off the back seat and pulled it on over his shirt, the reflective stripes catching the light from the nearest floodlight. He walked toward the far end of the site without looking back, the stop sign tucked under his arm.

Jace climbed down from the passenger side. He pulled his hard hat on and grabbed the rake leaning against the bed of the truck. The handle was warm from sitting in the sun all day, even though the sun had been gone for hours.

Delvin watched them go. Micah disappeared around the curve of the road, the vest going from bright to dim as he moved out of the floodlights’ reach. Jace walked up the line toward the paver, the rake dragging behind him, the metal teeth scraping against the asphalt.

Delvin crossed the road to where the machinery sat parked in a row along the shoulder. The grader was third from the end, the blade already down, the engine still warm. He climbed up into the cab and the seat creaked under him. The radio was already on the right channel. He checked the fuel gauge. Half. Enough.

He started the engine. The machine shuddered and settled into its idle, that low constant rumble he could feel in his teeth. He pulled the joystick back and the blade lifted, and he eased the grader off the shoulder and onto the road.

The floodlights threw his shadow ahead of him, long and distorted across the fresh-cut earth. The paver was already moving, the mat coming out behind it in a dark ribbon, and he could see Jace behind it, rake in hand, working the edge where the machine left it rough. Somebody’s radio was playing from one of the trucks.

He dropped the blade and the grader bit into the ground. The earth peeled away in front of him, flat and pale under the lights. He adjusted the joystick a quarter inch to the left. The blade followed.

The radio crackled.

“Namoki, you’re clear on that grade.”

“Copy.”

He backed the machine up, shifted, dropped the blade again. The dust rose and hung in the floodlights, and the cab’s filter hummed against it.

Through the dust-streaked glass, he could see the shape of the paver ahead of him, the shape of Jace behind it, the shape of the other machines working their sections. The floodlights made everything look the same color, the same flat white, and the shadows moved wrong under them, too long and too sharp.

He looked past the machines, past the floodlights, past the edge of the site where the asphalt ended and the desert began.

The mesas sat out there in the dark. He could see the shape of them against the sky, black against black, the edges gone soft where the starlight hit them. No moon tonight. Just the stars and the floodlights and the dark.

He turned back to the blade. Adjusted it. Dropped it. The ground peeled away again, flat and pale and scraped clean.

[Captain Canada]

Micah big-dogging everyone in that weight room. I feel like I'm missing some context on these guys, but I'm sure it'll come soon.

[Caesar]

Jace a bum. I know his daddy disappointed in him.

Need more deets on Micah other than he cut crust off sammiches.

[Soapy]

Micah big-dogging everyone in that weight room. I feel like I'm missing some context on these guys, but I'm sure it'll come soon.

Jace a bum. I know his daddy disappointed in him.

Need more deets on Micah other than he cut crust off sammiches.

Season 1 is definitely going to be more like a prelude than my previous RTGs where we jumped in the shit

soon come

[Soapy]

[Soapy]