Falling From the Sky Read Online Free PDF Page A

of the sidewalk. This stupid grin plasters across his face, and I know what he’s thinking, but I play dumb.
    “You’ve gotta play it with me,” he says. “It’s like a thousand times better than the human side, and we’ve already seen the movie, so we’re like a step ahead of the rest of the world.”
    He’s talking fast again. He’s too excited. “And I’ve only gotten through level twelve because I couldn’t find the unlock all key in thirteen, but we could go back to my house and–”
    “Okay!” I shout. “Calm down. We can play it.”
    I really don’t want to, but I actually feel sorry for him. He reminds me of how I used to get when my dad would call from a business trip and talk about the next levels. Besides, if I play it here, I won’t have to worry about seeing my dad’s Xbox login pop up. The thought of it makes me want to fall from the sky myself.
    Micah instantly makes plans. “I’ll follow you back to camp so you can leave your car and ride back to the res with me.”
     
    The Bear Creek Indian Reservation is just a few miles up the road from the mall. The pavement turns to dirt, and it’s hard to see anything through all the dust kicking up around Micah’s truck. He lets off the accelerator, and the sandstorm spirals back to the ground.
    “So, that western-looking horse,” I say. “How is that part of your culture? Did your tribe invent zombies or something?”
    Micah laughs. “There are Jocolnu legends about the undead.”
    “And you gave me a lucky rabbit’s foot to help me survive an apocalypse?” I ask. “And the plastic guns in the arcade – was that practice for when it happens?”
    I stare out the window as I talk so I can’t see his face. He’s probably giving me evil eyes. I should be more respectful.
    Luckily he laughs.
    “That was for luck because I’m going to kick your ass at Xbox games,” he shoots back.
    Ridge, 0. Micah, 1.
    Each house on the reservation looks the same – a white square with a gray roof. The same green door is tucked in between two perfectly rectangular glass panes on each house. They remind me of kindergarten classroom drawings when everyone had to draw family pictures. We all drew the same boxy red-bricked house with a high black roof and two symmetrical yellow-crayon-filled square windows.
    We pull up to one of the houses, which doesn’t look much different from the rest except for the string of paper lanterns hanging around the porch.
    “It’s pretty simple,” Micah says.
    He looks away, and I fear for a second that he heard my thoughts – my judgmental thoughts about how plain, simple, and outdated these houses look – and now I’m the one who’s embarrassed.
    “Nah, it’s cool,” I say, trying to keep my tone as neutral as possible. “I’ve never been on a reservation.”
    I focus on the lanterns until Micah opens his door to get out of the truck. I grab my bottle of Gatorade from the cup holder and follow. There’s a single tree outside of his house with skulls nailed to the trunk. I do a quick head count. Twelve of them. For the most part, they’re small, like squirrel and rabbit skulls, but the giant horse skull in the center creeps me out. I wonder who unlucky number thirteen is going to be.
    Micah fumbles with his keys before opening the front door.
    “Pretty cool, huh?” he asks. “Got it all – dogs, rabbits, squirrels, otters, a horse…no humans, though. Not yet anyway.”
    He flashes this sneaky grin and motions me inside. I actually hesitate for a second after that human skull remark. He walks ahead of me, flipping the light switches as he moves across the room. The lighting is dim, like hotel lamps that don’t fully light up the room. A flat display case hangs on the living room wall. The stones inside are arranged like a sunshine with a spear in the middle and arrowheads sprouting out like rays of light. I try my best not to stare, but he catches me anyway.
    “Those were in the tourist museum at one