Yellowcake Read Online Free PDF Page A

He was given a three-year sentence, but he got an early parole. He's been out since February. The board put conditions on him, though. He can't have a car or get a license until he's kept his nose clean for a year. So Becky is Delmar's ride. All spring and summer he has badgered her to drive him places. He calls her at the bank: pick me up, take me here, take me there, come get me—ordering her around as if she were his slave. They are practically brother and sister. When they were growing up, Delmar was at her house as much as at his own. His mother, Becky's aunt Alice, would drop him off for months at a time.
    "Oh look, they're coming over," Arnold says.
    Delmar carries the little boy under his arm like a sack of flour, the boy smiling serenely. The boy has his mother's dirty blond hair and green eyes. Becky recognizes her now. Crystal Rebeneck. She and Delmar were always getting in trouble when they were teenagers. Becky doesn't really know her, just knows of her and has seen her around, though not for a while. She looks a lot older, her long face gaunt and her hair, in two waist-length braids, dull. She carries the big, sleeping baby in a tummy harness, his fat pink legs and feet bouncing off Crystal's bony hips.
    "This guy's a flying fish," Delmar says, tossing the little boy up as he screams, then catching him, twirling him around, the boy trying to speak: "I'm—a—flying—fish."
    "Stop it," Crystal says. "He'll wet his pants."
    "Don't wet your pants, and don't go in the lake. There are sharks," Delmar says. He puts the boy down. The boy wobbles, trying to walk, then falls, bursting into tears.
    "You made him dizzy," Crystal says.
    "Tofu. Are you dizzy?"
    "His name's Torry," Crystal says.
    "He likes Tofu," Delmar says. The boy cries. "Hey, look what that guy has." Through teary eyes, the boy looks at the chocolate bar in Arnold's hand.
    "You want some?" Arnold asks the little boy. "Can he have some?" he asks Crystal. "Hi, Del." He glances at Becky, his dimple dimpling.
    "
Yá'át'éhéii.
Sure, he can have some," Delmar says, taking the bar from Arnold, unwrapping it, and letting the little boy scoop melting chocolate with his finger. "This is Stuck," Delmar says, jerking his head toward Crystal, "and sleepy Kylie."
    "Crystal," the girl says, lowering herself onto a boulder. The baby kicks, fussing but not waking.
    "Stuck," Delmar says. He hands the bar, unwrapped but on its wrapper, to the little boy, who sits on the ground, legs stretched out, the candy before him.
    Crystal rolls her eyes, smiling. "That's his name for me."
    "Stuck at Stuckey's," Delmar says. He grins, sliding his hands into his back pockets—he wears black jeans that look hot and a faded red T-shirt, not really tight but threadbare, and when he moves, his pecs and abs show clearly. Delmar has been living and working at their grandmother's farm on the reservation near Shiprock since he got out of jail, and he's in good shape. Becky watches Arnold's little smile as he eyes Delmar, and when Delmar's not looking, she kicks him. Arnold ignores her.
    Delmar walks back toward the Saab, the Wailers singing, "Chant down Babylon one more time."
    "Stuck's the employee of the month at Stuckey's Pecan Shoppe," he says. "Nice car."
    "Which Stuckey's?" Becky says.
    "In Grants," Crystal says. Grants is a hundred and eighty miles south. "We just came up to see Del for the weekend."
    Becky looks over her shoulder, watching Delmar stoop to look at the Saab's dash. She nudges Arnold, who twists around, then looks at Becky in alarm as Delmar slides in behind the wheel. Arnold doesn't let anybody behind the wheel of his car. "Hey, Arnie. Nice stereo," Delmar calls, and Arnold's eyes widen.
    Becky smiles. She whispers, "That one?" She ignores Arnold's fingers scratching her arm. "How old's your baby?" she asks Crystal.
    "Kylie's one and a half. Torry's four." Little Torry's face has a chocolate smile from cheek to cheek.
    "These speakers come