River Kings

One

The chilling water of Big River rushes beneath me. With my eyes glued to the sky, I don't see it, but it rumbles through my chest like a car engine. The sky is a clear blue, though darkening as evening approaches Marysville Mississippi, my sorry river town. I stand on the Sunbridge, thank God, which connects the winding street down to Mckinnon Boulevard, the busy part of where I live. This section of Marysville is much more rural. People pay more attention to Big River here, what with the tackle shop and Broderick Harbor a little down the road.

I know Big River is actually called the Mississippi, but this section of it belongs to Marysville. Belongs to the gangs on the side of the Sunbridge. So we dubbed it as we dubbed our friends. Calling it what it was: a big river.

I know it's not creative but it's the best hoods like us could do. You don't hear a kid like me dubbing their cat Charlemagne or Antoinette. We don't get or give nicknames cause we like 'em. We give them because it's who the person is. We get them because it shows who we are. Maybe they're stupid and maybe they're better than our real name. I'm Arizona Keaton, though I would like it a lot more if I wasn't named after a scorching hell hole of a state. That's what my mom calls it at least. But it isn't her fault; my dad named me. If I knew where he was I'd go slug him across the face for it.

When my mother isn't drowning in her booze she enjoys making clear points. Like if it had been her way I would have had a normal name like my older brother Vince. But he isn't too normal to begin with.

He looks like me: dirty blond hair, sky blue eyes. His eyes aren't as big as mine. They're sunken into his face and almond shaped. Thin and hungry, looking like a wild forest cat.

Vince belongs to a gang of boys on the Sunbridge side known as the Vipers. They're the worst gang on the river side of Marysville. Nine members, all cold and mean. Even my brother. I can't remember the last time he smiled. Last time he cried. Last time he said he loved me. He acted like an old gangster in the picture shows but he was only seventeen. He don't pay much mind to a fifteen year old broad like me, and that suits me just fine.

I don't need the kin I've got. I have something much better.

I finish off my cigarette and toss the butt over the yellow railing of the bridge into the water. It already had so much gunk in it. I don't think one cigarette butt would make a difference.

I hitch my thumbs into my jean pockets like I'd seen kids like me do so many times before. The wind was picking up a little bit, and I didn't want to be outside when it started getting real cold. I had holes all over my jacket; perfect places for the wind to seep in.

I turned right and headed off of the Sunbridge onto McKinnon Boulevard. On the left side we had the general store, tackle shop, and bar. On the right, you had Freeport restaurant, and behind it the fence lining an RV neighborhood. Not much, but it was the Sunbridge side. I spent time in the general store picking up booze for Mom when she was too drunk to drive but sober enough to chew me out if I refused. I also picked up cigarettes for Vince and I, but sometimes he'd come home with some grass his friend had hooked him up with and he'd let me smoke some. I preferred it cigarettes. I didn't do too much fishing, so the tackle shop was a bust. Vince headed to the bar a lot with his gang and fake IDs. A road over was Norm's Diner, where Mom worked whenever she was able. Vince got cash off drag races and stuff like that sometimes. I want to start working, but haven't exactly found a good job yet. So for now I'm stuck with Vince almost breaking his neck every time he's looking for money. And it usually isn't spent for the family.

Nobody I knew lived in the RV neighborhood, but it was a nice place to bum around if you were looking to annoy someone. We almost had to live there back when Dad left.