Maggie Blackbird - Two Princes

To win over the chiefs haughty son, a drug-dealingpunk from a dysfunctional family must risk the only two things hehas: his reputation and freedom.

Billy Redsky, a rebellious punk who loves art andnature, is saddled with a welfare-leeching, alcoholic mother andcriminal older brother who are the joke of their Ojibway community.Sick and tired of being perceived as a loser, Billy deals drugs forhis older brother to earn quick money. He hopes if he buys a dirtbike, hell finally impress the chiefs popular and aloof son, RenOshawee.

When the two are forced to serve detentiontogether, a friendship begins to bloom, but much to Billysfrustration, Ren keeps putting him on ice. To make his biggestdream come true if he finally wants to call Ren his own, Billymust make a huge decision that could cost him everything.

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Two Princes

Copyright 2020 Maggie Blackbird

ISBN: 978-1-4874-2976-8

Cover art by Martine Jardin

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Smashwords Edition

Two Princes

When We Were Young Book 1

By

Maggie Blackbird

This is the last novel you assisted me with, ToobaBoy. You were the best furry PA any writer could ask for. Sleepwell, my baby. Ill miss you very much.

Thank you to my husband and my big red girl foralways being there with your love and support.

Thank you to Shane Guimond for your assistance on lawand law enforcement.

Thank you to my editor, Emmy, my cover artist,Martine, my proofer, Bri, and Jay, EIC.

September 1996

Thunder Mountain First Nation, Thunder Bay, ON

For the last year hed sold ten joints a day. Withthe measly cut he was getting from his shit-ass older brother forpeddling the dickheads weed, Billy would be wearing dentures andbunking at the seniors building by the time he got to buy the dirtbike hed been drooling over at Moes Motorcycles.

Maybe he could find a job. He shoved asidethe empty beer bottles and overflowing ashtray on the coffee tableand snatched the reserves bi-weekly newsletter peeking out frombeneath the mess. He flipped through the stapled pages.

This was useless. As if anyone would hirehim. He was a Redsky. Mom and Hoytwith their drinking, drugging,letting the house go to shit, monthly gimme money cause Im toofucking lazy to work welfare checks, stints in jailhad doneeverything and anything to trash the family name.

There wasnt even one job anyway. He tossedaside the newsletter and stood. At least Moms boyfriend kept thefridge stocked with lunchmeat that Billy had made two sandwichesfrom.

He slid his sketchpad and charcoal pencilsinto his backpack. Then he adjusted the Canadian flag pin on thelapel of his jean jacket from right side up to upside down so thosein the know understood he had weed for sale.

There were messes on the living room andkitchen floors he had to step over. Eight oclock. The school buswould arrive any second. He shouldnt have screwed around whilerolling those ten joints earlier.

Moms light snores carried from her bedroomadjacent to the utility room. Billy lifted his middle finger. Hekicked open the utility room door, and it banged against the wall.Good. The noise might wake the lazy lush.

Moms purse sat on the washer. He reachedinside, dug out her wallet, and helped himself to a five-dollarbill.

He left the house to a shining sun and aclear blue sky. Neither matched the gray cloud seeming to hoverabove his head.

The corner of his eye caught the tail end ofthe school bus driving by. His irritation went from twenty-fivedegrees Celsius to a raging thirty-eight. Great. Fucking great.

He threw up his arms and tramped down thedriveway while the bus kept chugging farther from him. There wasmoney to make and a dirt bike to buy if he wanted the bodaciousCarla Morrisseau and the super-cool royal spare, Ren Oshawee, tofinally fix their eyes in his direction.

The growl of a V8 engine and then the brumbrum brum of a bitchin steel muffler carried across the fieldfrom the cul-de-sac where the royal familys castle was located.Ren must be backing out of his fancy three-stall garage forschool.

Moms rusted truck from the disco seventiessat in the driveway. There wasnt a motorcycle, so her boyfriendmustve crashed at his own pad for once.

Billy huffed for the road. The city bus was aten-minute jaunt to reach, but business was business. If he didntsell his weed, hed get to taste Hoyts fistsagain.

Being late wasnt a big deal anyway. Billycould handle Chrome Dome Carlson. This wasnt the first time hedarrive after the second bell, or the first time hed find himselfin the vice principals office.

Blue jays obnoxiously jeered. Finchescheeped. A crow on a hydro wire cawed down at him. The purewhistling tone of an oriole floated on the warm fall air. Too badhe didnt have an orange in his backpack, or hed share it with thetoo cool bird, but fruit was six holidays wrapped into one at hishouse.

Maybe Pumpkin was foraging around. Nextmonth, the big bear would bunk down for the winter. After school,hed go up the mountain. He almost had his sketch completed of thecinnamon-colored big guy. But a trip to the mall might be a betteridea. He could steal some more supplies to create a kick-asstribute to the bear.

Billy reached the end of his road and walkedalong the main stretch of Ojibway Drive. The brum brum brumrestarted. He licked his lips.

The V8 engine and muffler grew louder. A fistseemed to squeeze his heart. Gripping the shoulder straps of thebackpack, he used his thighs to walk, almost stepping up becausehis nerves had gotten in on the game and had tightened.

Instead of speeding up, the truck slowed to alight putter. Why the hell was Ren Oshawee slowing? He should bebombing by to get his main man in Northwood and then head toGolds Coffee on Arthur Street to slurp some mud beforeschool. That was the royal spares routine. The rocker cliquealways showed up five minutes before the first bell.

From his peripheral vision, Billy caught thehood louvers on the black truck as the vehicle crawled beside him.Heart now seemingly in his rolling stomach, he turned his head toRen staring back behind sunglasses that matched the shade of hisslick four-by-four wheels. The passenger window lowered.

Sup, Redsky? You skipping again or are youfive minutes behind the clock? Ren asked in a tone Billy hadheard while renting movies at the video storesmooth, silky, andfiner than a taste of his brothers favorite whiskey.

Five minutes behind, Billy managed to spitout.