The morning of my Dad’s arrival, I could tell mom felt concerned about what might come of his visit, because she sat quietly looking at the floor in deep thought. Throughout our childhood we were told several stories, as to why she could never let us see him, one of which was, “He told me, he would take you away to Greece and I’d never see you again.
We settled into our new life in Palm Springs, the Morongo Indian Reservation was quickly fading into its proper place, oblivion. I was halfway past my 13th birthday, we had nice friends, Mom got a job cutting hair downtown, and I loved our new school Raymond Cree. I even had my very first crush: his name was Jerry Lindel, and I thought he was the most handsome boy I had ever seen, but Anna said, “He was homely and a geek.”
Over the next several weeks Anna and I got more settled with life on the reservation, but we didn’t like it any more than the first day. Mom enrolled us in the nearest public school, it wasn’t on the reservation, but the reservation kids attended. I don’t remember the name of it, I’ll just call it school No. “7”.