It was... a long time ago. When I was a young girl, the age of sixteen. I had fallen in love with a boy from the wrong side of town. not that stuff like this didn't happen all the time, our town was so small you could throw a stone from the furthest end of the "right" side to the "wrong" side. News of my stolen heart raced like wildfire. In a town like this, history wasn't made, it was passed down. If your father was a drunkard, odds were that you were going to be a drunkard too. Well, my family was more well-to-do than most others. Our driveway had gravel, much more expensive than the dirt everyone else had. The reservation was just down the street, a couple blocks away from the school we all commuted to. It was inevitable.

His name was Ezekiel, like the guy in the Bible. His first name was Ezekiel, very American, very white. His last name was HowlingMoon. Very Native American. Very Indian. Everyone called him Zeke though. He wasn't an important guy in the reservation. He was one of the guys that stayed in the shadows, even with his own kind. When a fight broke out in school, he'd be the one who ended it... or the one who started it. He was the kind of guy you stayed away from when you saw him in the same room, but the one you wanted on your side when a fight broke out. At first I thought a guy like him and a girl like me would never be able to get together. Just liked every other girl though, my eyes were always watching him. I didn't think of myself as special. But I guess he did.

One day he walked up to me and slapped my butt. He reeked of alcohol and smoke. It excited me, the rush of being "picked on" by someone like him. My first rational response: I slapped him on the right cheek as hard as I could with my books in my other arm. He looked at me, anger frozen on his face, along with shock. I expected the worst, when, to my surprise, he laughed.

"You ain't no reservation girl." He moved on, the silky sin in his smile melted my legs. I stood where I was, grasping onto my books like a sheild. The five minute bell rang. I ran to class and was tardy that day.

I spent most of the rest of that month skirting the Natives, or "First Nations", as my father enjoyed saying. As though it were a title he could hold above their head. They weren't normal, they weren't deserving of a casual tone. They were Native Americans. So was my father, he was half, but something about the three piece suit he wore made him different. I didn't understand it. Hell, I still don't.

Then, a couple months after the 'incident' I had nearly forgotten, he, Zeke, walked up to me and smiled his sinful, white smile. I remember thinking it wasn't fair for someone with such a lifestyle to have a grin like that. His hair was growing out, he had tied some downy feathers into a leather band around a particularly long part. He leaned closer, and a feeling washed over me of insecurity, and I realized he intimidated me. He intimidated everyone, really. I gazed into his harsh black-brown eyes. He stared into my green-brown eyes.

"Date me?" he was sincere. I thought he was joking. I sat silently, waiting for the punch line. It never came. I got nervous, began shuffling papers. My face was much more hot than I could ever remeber it being before.

"Give me til tomorrow to tell you?" I asked. He nodded.

I walked home on cotton candy that night. I had always loved cotton candy. The way it melted on yout tongue gave the illusion it was lighter than clouds. The sticky sweetness remaining at the back of your throat, constantly giving the feeling of being wholly sweet and complete inside. My father teased me about cotton candy being my drug. I pushed open our screen door and dropped my bag, humming absentmindedly. Mother noticed.

She asked me about it. All I said was it was about school. She smiled it off and said dinner was going to be to-each-his/her-own. I loved dinner like that. I usually crammed some peanut butter and ham into a tortilla and had some spicey chips with honey oatmeal to dip them in. Whenever Mother saw my eating habits, she would wonder aloud how my first pregnancy would go. I rushed through food, running into my room. I knelt on my knees beside my bed and prayed right there. I prayed for a sign, I prayed for security and assurance. I prayed, and then did my homework and daydreamed about Zeke. Mostly about our first date, our first kiss. I smiled at myself. I was getting ahead of everything.

The next day Zeke cornered me during lunch. As he walked towards me and my group of friends, I watched the way he walked. It was predatory, it was lithe. There was wickedness in him; a wildness, that I wanted to harness and tame. His scent hit me before what was happening did. Alcohol and smoke, like always. He smiled his sinful smile. It sent invisible shivers down my spine.

"Think about it?" He folded his arms over his well sculpted chest.

"Yes." I smiled as demurly as possible. I probably looked smug and quickly wiped the grin off my face. "I will date you, but there are conditions. I will give you one month."

He gaped at me. In that moment I knew nothing about him was good for me, but I wanted it. I wanted to live on the wrong side of town, I wanted to step into the pool, dive straight into the deep end. I wanted to drown for the first time of my life, and I wanted to be drowning in Zeke.

"What are your conditions?"

I smiled at him, "Come to church, stop drinking, stop smoking."

His group of friends, the one's he hung out with, the bad boys of the reservation, started to laugh. A couple of them jostled Zeke around, elbowing him and scoffing at us, at our seriousness.

He glared at me, "You don't want me, you want one of your perfect little white boys." His groupies went silent. Zeke was dead serious. So was I.

"Hardly." I breathed casually, "You don't have to pay attention in church, eventually you will because you want to. In replacement of your drugs, I will attempt to be the high you need. But if you want me, prove it."

I was startled to see the fire in my eyes reflected in his. He saw it as a privilege, a challenge. "One month? I can do it in two weeks."

This was going so fast, and so much differently than I had imagined. I had thought he would refuse, get angry and go for someone easier than I. "Prove it. The day you do, is the day we will go on our first date."

He smiled, "Two weeks sounds good. The fair is in in two weeks." He swept down dramatically and kissed my hand, "Mi'lady! I shall be your Romeo."

I watched him leave, becoming the shadow of the pack, his shifty eyes that usually looked for danger, looked for weakness, looked for openings in a persons' defense, were staring back at me.

I was so estatic for the rest of the week I couldn't tell my nights from days. Everything was dream. I would spend the afternoons with Zeke, getting to know him, he invited me to his house, I got to meet his family. They liked the little white girl. I found out sides about Zeke I never thought I would. Three sisters, one was his twin, and one brother. Zeke in the middle. His father was a bear of a man, but as cuddly as a kitten or puppy. Whichever you prefer.

They introduced themselves. Momma, Dad, Ruth, Jessika, Ezra and Ezekiel the twins, and Gabriel HowlingMoon. I was honored to be shown their family style for a night. They ate like a family, laughed and joked. It was awkward at first, but after the first hour I was a part of the family. I was amazed by how small their house wa,s how dingey and run down, but they were happy. They ate together, they talked about hardships and triumphs. I was amazed and accepted, being able to relate in some ways.

After dinner we were watching a movie, Ezz and Zeke on the reclining chair, Momma and Dad on the love seat, the rest of us packed onto the couch. Gabriel decided to move to the ground a little after the movie started, giving us more room. Just when the movie began to reach the turning point, Ruth turns to me.

"It's nice to see 'Zekiel with a girl who's doing him good." I felt everyone tense, "These reservation girls have no pride in their bodies anymore. This generation is doused in sin." Oddly, I thought of Zeke's smile I snuck a glance to him. He and Ezz were livid. Ruth was obviously the 'do-gooder'. "Do good with him, okay?"

I relaxed only after Ruth had turned back to the screen. I could feel the room retract its claws. After the movie, Zeke grabbed his fathers keys.

"Driving her home, Dad."

He grunted in a heavy way. Zeke smiled at me. It was a different smile than before. It was warmer, more attractive. I liked this smile. I wanted it to myself. Zeke hopped into the drivers side, I scrambled into the passengers.

"So..." He sounded nervous, one hand on the steering wheel, the other fidgeting with anything it could reach."How do you like my family?"

I smiled, "They are wonderful, Zeke! You guys are together and happy and... and they accepted me! It was an experience I won't forget."

I looked at him as I said this, the look on his face changing from anxiety to relief to joy. "Will you have me over for dinner at your place one night?" He smiled, both of his hands on the steering wheel. He was more confident now that he knew what I had thought of his family.

I hesitated. "We... aren't like your family, Zeke." he looked a little hurt, "But yes, I'll ask my mother when I can bring you over." His smile returned and he grabbed my hand, squeezing it.

"Thanks sweetie." I blushed as he continued to hold my hand. "See you in church tomorrow?"

I nodded, "Wear something nice, but keep your hair down." I wanted to say I liked it most that way, but I decided not to give him anything more than what his ego needed. We pulled in front of my house, and my father stepped towards the old truck.

"Zeke." He pretty much spat.

"Hello sir. Thank you for letting me take your daughter to dinner tonight." Father glared through the open window. "Thanks for coming, Tasha. I enjoyed it more than you know. My family did too."

I smiled, scooting out of the truck. "See you Sunday Zeke."

He revved his engine, I laughed as it backfired. Father was livid as he opened the door for me. What a perfect night it was.