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Show -5- bowl of beans, took the kuibits and carried them over to the road where the truck would stop. Her grandmother, dumpy in a shapeless cotton dress and wearing a bandana on her head, grunted her approval. The red pickup rolled into sight over the horizon, trailing a long plume of dust. "Hurry!" Granny commanded. "Rosa, help with the pots!" "In a minute!" Rosa dashed back inside, snatched up the little transistor radio and crammed it into the hip pocket of her jeans. Then she looped her fingers through the round handles of two pots, swinging her arms as she carried them outside. Rosa and Matias rode in the back of the truck, squinting their eyes against the dust. While Matias fiddled with his cowboy boots, Rosa leaned against the back of the cab and let the breeze whip her short hair around her face. Granny hadn't liked it when she'd come home with her hair cut that way; but she hadn't said much, just frowned and grunted. She fished for her radio, flipped it on and turned the volume all the way up. Matias grinned and began to bounce back and forth to the beat of the music.as the pickup wound its way around the curves of the dirt road and up into the hills, where the saguaros were thickest and the red fruit the sweetest. Rosa pressed the radio against her ear and counted the weeks that would have to pass before she was back in school again. She'd told everyone there that her name was Rose. It didn't sound so Mexican, nor so Papago, as Rosa. And she'd pretended not to hear when the other students, most of them Navajo or Ute, talked about how rich and powerful their tribes were. She'd turned away when they said that the Papago were poor, that they lived in the dirt like lizards and kangaroo rats. Her friends at school thought she lived in one of the nice, govern- |