Warrior Gods

Chapter 1....Pride before the fall.

Enola took another drag on her cigarette and laughed out loud as Brittany accidentally sprayed herself with the paint can. "Way to be ninja, there, Brit - no one will ever know it was you." She snickered cynically.

Brittany glared back at her and turned back to the artistic masterpiece she was tagging on the wall outside the cafeteria. It was a 6 foot tall stylized feather - green and black and turquoise. It was actually pretty good, Enola thought to herself. Of course, she would never say that out loud - wouldn't give Brittany the satisfaction of being better than her at anything. But Enola could admit to herself that she was kinda jealous - she wasn't an "artist" herself, always just the sidekick.

The sun was going down behind the school and the light was fading. There was a chill in the air - but it never really got too cold in Southern California. Enola still pulled her black beanie down more tightly over her ears and watched Brittany put on the final touches. Brittany signed the tag "N8V PRYDE". That made Enola laugh out loud.

What the hell did they know about Native Pride? It was a joke, really. Pride in anything, was a joke to Enola - she just didn't give a shit. But Native Pride? That was fucking hilarious. Enola had been born and raised in sunny Southern California - a priveleged beach kid - her dad an engineer for the US Navy. The only native thing about was her hair and her name - even though, technically, she was half Navajo - a native tribe from the southwest somewhere. Blackhorse was her last name. Like something out of a stupid John Wayne movie.

She'd only been friends with Brit for the last year. Brit was the only "real" native she knew besides her dad. She had moved out from Phoenix the year before - her dad couldn't handle her anymore and her mom worked for Enola's dad - childhood pals or something like that. Brittany was a Yazzie. That was, apparently, the Navajo version of "Smith" or "Johnson".

Enola had never been back to the "rez", as Brittany had called it. She had never met her dad's side of the family, never visited where he had come from. When he left the rez at 19, he'd gone to college , on a scholarship, to the University of California at San Diego. He got a degree in engineering and went to work for the US Navy and never looked back. He'd met her mom in college - a dark haired, dark eyed serious girl from England who'd been spending a year abroad in America. They fell in love and lived happliy ever after, until Enola came along.

That's how Enola saw it, anyway. Their life had to have been something great - they'd had the world at their fingertips - then her mom got knocked up and they had to get married so she could stay in the country. That's how they became the grumpy, miserable, absent people that they are now. She was the catalyst - it was all her fault. They never talked to each other - let alone her. Her dad was always working, her mom always so serious and butting her nose into Enola's business. God, talk about pain in the ass.

Enola took another drag on the cig before stomping it out under her boot. "Brit - we should hit it before someone comes." She looked around cautiously.

Brit roller her eyes. "Where did you put your cajones, Blackhorse? Since when are you afraid of getting caught?"

That stung. She wanted to bullshit her way through it - be tough - but she really couldn't afford to get suspended again. The last time was for two weeks and she'd thought she was going to kill herself - spending two weeks alone with her mom. No phone, no tv, no friends...not like she had many friends - just Brit. But still. Her mom was always talking to her - talking,talking, talking - trying to get through to her. And her dad had been seriously pissed - like ship her off to boarding school pissed. She did not want to go there again.

"I've got plenty of balls, Brit - I'm just not stupid is all." She tried to play it cool. Bluffing Brittany was hard - she was a first class hood, that girl. She'd just as soon punch you as hug you. But she was funny and sweet, when she wanted to be, and loyal to the bone. Everyone needed someone to watch their back.

"Besides," Enola smiled, "If we head to Rafferty's you might get to see Dylan...." She saw Brittany look at her out of the corner of her eye. Rafferty's was a little bar in Mission Beach that let underage kids in sometimes. Dylan was one of the bartenders, and Brittany had a huge crush.

"Well, I'm sure he's going through withdrawal, since he hasn't seen me in a week." She said, standing up and brushing the dirt off of her pants. She grinned wickedly. "Boy's probably feening for a taste of Brit these days. " She waggled her eyebrows.

Brittany was a little bit reckless....well, okay....slutty. She'd made it with who knows how many guys - Enola couldn't keep count. Brit just seemed to honestly believe that the way to a man's heart was through his zipper. Enola didn't judge her - it was Brit's thing - even though Enola avoided the boys. Brit asked her once if she was gay, and even offered to kiss her - just to see. Enola just laughed. She liked boys well enough - had even had a couple of crushes - but boys just became men who worked too much and ignored their kids. She had one man like that in her life - she didn't need any more. Besides, she might talk a tough game, but Enola just wasn't that kind of girl.  

Enola rolled her eyes at her friend....and then she heard it. The distinct 'whoop whoop" sound a police siren gives off when they're trying to catch your attention. She chanced a look behind her and the blue and red glow of the lights reflected in her eyes. She saw Britt take off running in the other direction. Chick didnt even wait for her. Enola thought about running too....she really did. She knew it was big trouble this time. But as she watched the two officers get out of the car and head toward her, she realized she was tired of running.  Where would she run to?  She didn't belong anywhere.