Shake It Off

by Suzanne Nelson

  Aunt Beth gasped, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I completely forgot they were coming for the tour.” Her strict demeanor faded as she sagged against a counter. “I’ll be right out.” She turned back to me. “Bria, go find Luke. He’ll be out giving hayrides. Tell him to shut down the rides for the next hour. He’ll take your spot in the dining room. Come right back to get started with your new job.”

  “What?” I blinked, not understanding.

  Impatient, she said, “You don’t want to wait tables, fine. But we all pull our weight around here. You can clean the restroom and empty the dining room trash cans.”

  She swept out of the kitchen without another word. Wren gave me one last glance. “Thanks for giving Mom one more thing to worry about.” Then she was gone, too.

  I stared after her. Was this because of CheeseCo? Why would that be my problem?

  I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, a hand towel, and launched it across the room. I didn’t care what punishment Aunt Beth and Uncle Troy instituted, or what punishment my parents issued long-distance from California. I was not cleaning restrooms.

  God, what I would’ve given for my cell phone. I could’ve texted Leila and told her the thousands of ways I was hating my summer so far. Meanwhile, she was probably out shopping with friends, or having shakes at our special hangout (and they wouldn’t just be vanilla).

  Barreling out of the creamery, I nearly had another collision, this time with a group of men in suits in the parking lot. I saw the CheeseCo logo on their clipboards, and they were deep in conversation with Aunt Beth and Uncle Troy. The man talking to Aunt Beth had hunched shoulders, a face the shade of a blanched radish, and a shiny balding head that really did make him look like a vulture. He had to be Mr. Brannigen. I nearly laughed despite my foul mood.

  I heard him say, “It’s amazing your farm has survived as long as it has. Given its dilapidated state, you’d be doing yourselves a huge favor selling it. It’s only a matter of time before a customer gets hurt on a hayride or rusty tractor, and then you’d have a nasty lawsuit on your hands that you can’t afford.” He sniffed, and gave the property a quick sweeping glance. “No need to tour the creamery,” he announced as everyone else took frantic notes. “This whole building will have to go. Better to expand the milking operation.”

  Aunt Beth’s strained expression deflated. “The creamery has a charm all its own,” she started, but when Uncle Troy slid his arm around her, she stopped, as if she realized it was pointless to try to persuade Mr. Brannigen of anything.

  “Why don’t we start with a look at the milking barns, then?” Uncle Troy said. “You’ll find our equipment is all up to code …”

  I walked past the group and went in search of Luke, thinking I’d have to walk all the way out to the fields to find him. Instead, I was surprised when I saw him motioning to me from inside the equipment barn.

  “You’re supposed to go help Wren in the creamery,” I said as soon as I reached him. “Nobody likes the way I deliver burger baskets.”

  Luke wasn’t listening to a word I was saying. He was staring at his mom and dad and the CheeseCo people.

  “I wish they’d just leave,” he muttered. “The way Mr. Brannigen talks, you’d think CheeseCo is saving farms everywhere. Really, he’s just buying up people’s land at bargain prices, and kicking them out of their homes.”

  “I don’t know. Selling the farm doesn’t seem like such a bad idea to me. Your mom and dad could find better jobs.”

  Luke stared at me, his usual sense of humor gone. “There’s not a better job than farming. Not for us.” He settled his Dawson’s Creamery cap more firmly on his head, as if to secure the farm’s permanent place in the world, and started for the creamery.

  As I watched him go, I caught sight of his cell phone peeking out of his back pocket. Suddenly, I was running after him, calling, “Luke, wait! Could I borrow your cell phone?” My hopes soared. “Just for a few minutes?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and tossed it to me. “Reception’s terrible. You’ll have to walk around until you can get a good signal.”

  “Thanks!” I said jubilantly, grasping the phone like the lifeline it was.

  I raised it slightly over my head, staring at the screen, waiting for a few bars to appear. None did. I sidestepped the goat pen, walking first toward the milking barn and then toward the silo, without any luck. Soon, I’d made a full circle around the outbuildings without so much as a single bar of reception. I stopped in front of the gate to one of the pastures, letting out a huff of frustration. Not ready to give up, I lifted the latch and stepped into the field. There were several cows grazing a few feet away, but they didn’t even glance up at me. Keeping my eyes trained on the phone, I saw one bar flicker to life. At last! Careful not to move the phone from its position in the air, I texted Leila.

  SOS, I typed. IT’S BRIA. ALREADY DYING OF BOREDOM. SAVE ME.

  I had just hit SEND when a chorus of Moos sounded to my right. I glanced up in time to see three of the cows trotting past me, making a beeline for the open pasture gate.

  I gulped, my pulse ratcheting up.

  Open! The gate! I’d forgotten to latch it behind me when I’d walked through. And—oh no!—at least ten other cows had already escaped into the creamery parking lot!

  I broke into a run, waving my arms at the last cows still heading for the gate, hoping I might be able to stop any of them.

  “Hey!” I shouted. “Get back here!” I whistled, trying to keep my balance on the slippery, muddy ground.

  “Come here, girls! Come on! That’s a good cow!”

  The cows did not come. The cows ran faster.

  My voice sharpened desperately. “No! Stop!”

  Suddenly, Gabe was there, stepping between me and the cows. “Don’t shout.” His voice was quiet and firm, his steel-gray eyes piercing. “Unless you want a stampede.” For the first time since I’d met him, his patient smile was gone. He focused his attention back on the cows, now ignoring me entirely.

  I blushed indignantly and tried to keep pace with him as he stepped in long, purposeful strides toward the gate.

  I straightened my shoulders. “But I’m only trying to hel—” I didn’t manage to finish before my feet slipped out from under me and I became airborne. With a repugnant squelch! I landed face-first in a giant mud puddle.

  “Ew!” I shrieked, sputtering as I tried to keep the mud from splashing into my mouth and eyes. “Ew ew ew!”

  I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand, expecting that at any moment Gabe or Wren or someone would come to help me. I could hear excited voices and the lowing of innumerable cows. But no one came for me. Finally, I dragged myself out of the mud and glanced toward the parking lot, where Luke, Wren, Gabe, Aunt Beth, and Uncle Troy were all busy herding the cows away from customers and the CheeseCo entourage and back toward the pasture.

  “This is exactly the sort of situation that would never happen under CheeseCo management,” Mr. Brannigen was saying, and then he stepped in a pile of cow manure, and the rest of his words were lost in an indecipherable rant as, red faced and scowling, he made for his car.

  Aunt Beth called an apology after him, while Wren and Luke didn’t even try to hide their grins.

  Out of everyone, it was Gabe who had the most command of the situation, talking to the cows in a low, quiet voice that calmed them. He was coaxing the cows slowly back into the field, and like children under the magic spell of a pied piper, they serenely followed him.

  I picked my way over to my aunt and cousins, wringing muddy water from my shirt and hair as I went. “I’m so sorry,” I blustered, handing Luke back his miraculously clean phone. “I was only trying to send a text message, and I went into the pasture to get better reception. I guess I forgot to latch the gate.”

  “It’s all right,” Aunt Beth said distractedly, and then quickly turned back to the remaining customers, offering free milkshakes to everyone. Wren, Luke, and U
ncle Troy were just as busy reassuring customers, too.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again helplessly, but no one seemed to hear except Gabe. Even though there was a look of dismay on his face, he laughed softly. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Bria.” He shook his head. “You’re having a killer first day.”

  Heated embarrassment flashed over me as he secured the gate behind the last cow. “Why is there a Wi-Fi hot spot in the middle of a stinking field anyway?”

  He grinned again, making me want to smack him. “Look. You don’t know what you’re doing.” He said it gently, but it still stung. “Just stay out of the pasture so my cows don’t get hurt.”

  “The cows?” I blurted. “Your cows? What about me?”

  He brushed past me, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter, and disappeared into the milking barn. I stared after him, fuming.

  “You okay?” Wren appeared at my elbow, looking me up and down. “I don’t see any hoof prints on you. Just mud.”

  “I hate mud,” I grumbled, but my eyes were still fixed on the door of the milking barn.

  Wren retrieved a boot that I hadn’t even realized I’d lost from the mud puddle nearby.

  “I can’t believe Gabe’s Mr. High and Mighty act,” I said stiffly. “He didn’t even care that I almost got trampled!”

  Wren poured a dollop of mud out of my shoe and handed it back to me. She did not look happy. “Our cows wouldn’t know how to stampede if they were being chased by a pack of wolves.”

  I huffed. “He didn’t have to be rude. He knows I’m new.”

  A second later, Luke was beside us, grinning. “Well, cuz, I’ve been wanting Mr. Brannigen to step in it for a while now, and I just want to say … thank you.” He bowed jokingly. “Because today you granted my wish.”

  He laughed, but I wasn’t in the mood. “I’m going to get cleaned up,” I said, and with that, marched to the house, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind me.

  Killer first day indeed.

  You don’t know what you’re doing. Gabe’s teasing words ran a repeating loop through my head, and my blood boiled as I sat at the dinner table, picking at the fried pork tenderloin. I could barely even look his way.

  “Bria.” Aunt Beth jolted me from my thoughts. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

  “Just not very hungry,” I mumbled.

  “I’m starving!” Luke boasted around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Must’ve been chasing after the runaway cows that did it.” He snorted a laugh into his napkin as Wren slapped him on the arm.

  “C’mon, Luke.” Gabe elbowed him in the ribs, and then shot me a sympathetic look, which I pointedly ignored. Did he actually think being nice to me now could make up for humiliating me earlier?

  But Uncle Troy chuckled, too. “That was one to remember, all right. The Great Cow Escape. Oh, our customers’ faces … they didn’t know whether to laugh or run for their lives.” He and Luke howled even harder then, until Uncle Troy was wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “Boys.” Aunt Beth included Uncle Troy in her scolding stare. “Enough. Let poor Bria eat her dinner in peace, will you?”

  “Actually, I’m finished anyway.” I stood up to bring my dish to the sink. “Is it okay if I watch Gossip High on the TV? It’s on Netflix.”

  “Sorry, sweetie,” Aunt Beth said. “We don’t have Netflix.”

  “Wha—oh!” I must’ve looked miserable, because Gabe stood up then, too.

  “The weather’s perfect for night fishing,” he said.

  “I’m in.” Luke was already jumping up from the table.

  “Is there ever a time when you don’t want to go night fishing?” Aunt Beth laughed and tried to ruffle Luke’s hair but he immediately ducked out from under her hand.

  Gabe turned toward me. “Have you ever been night fishing?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered. “I love eating fish. Not the idea of catching them. And at night?” Visions of mosquitoes and wriggly, slimy worms squirmed before my eyes.

  “You wouldn’t like it,” Wren said to me. “Too dirty.” There was a certain satisfaction in her tone that irritated me, as if she was banking on my failure, yet again.

  “She can decide that for herself,” Gabe said. “You don’t seem like the giving-up sort,” he told me. “But then again …” He winked. “Maybe dirt already got the better of you.”

  “It didn’t.” I set my teeth. Now that he was turning this into a dare, how could I possibly say no? I met his eyes dead-on, unflinching. “I’m in.”

  He smiled, like he’d just won a small victory. “See you outside in ten.”

  The moment he was gone through the door, I sank back against the kitchen wall. I wanted to prove Gabe wrong, but … night fishing? I cringed. What had I just gotten myself into?

  * * *

  “How much farther?” I picked my way precariously through the knee-high grass, my eyes trained on the flashlight beam.

  Nobody responded, and I had the distinct impression that, even though I’d been invited along, I wasn’t necessarily welcome.

  Wren and Luke walked ahead of me, talking in hushed, worried tones. I’d picked up the word CheeseCo more than once, so I guessed they were rehashing their parents’ meeting with the dairy company. I didn’t understand why it should be upsetting them so much, but Wren, especially, seemed out of sorts over it, her voice rising into pinched pitches here and there.

  Gabe was walking at a steady pace, his head down, tackle box and fishing rod in hand. Since I didn’t want to be walking alone, I was hustling to keep pace with him. The tepid summer night air was filled with strange sounds: clicks and hums and chirps, the rustling of the tall grass, and the lowing of the cows. Mosquitoes buzzed about, until I was swatting at them almost constantly, even though I’d sprayed enough bug repellent on me to ward off Iowa’s entire insect population.

  “Ugh, these bugs,” I said. “They’re everywhere.”

  “That’s bugs for you.” Gabe’s matter-of-fact tone made irritation burble inside me fresh. Why was he always so calm, so unaffected?

  Suddenly, something large swooped through the darkness over my head, flapping its wings furiously. I shrieked and ducked, and a second later felt a warm arm around my shoulders.

  “Only a bat.” Gabe’s voice came soft beside my ear, and might have been comforting if there hadn’t been the lightness of laughter around its edges.

  I shrugged off his arm and stood, brushing invisible dirt from my capris. “A bat? God, what if it bit me? Or scratched me? Don’t they carry rabies?”

  “It didn’t get near you. It was just eating those bugs you hate so much.”

  “Why am I even out here?” I blurted. I glanced toward the distant lights of the house. The idea of going back was tempting. So tempting.

  “You’re out here,” Gabe said then, “because some people might think you can’t handle it. And you don’t want to prove them right.”

  I stopped walking to stare at him. “Are you one of those people? Who think I don’t belong here?”

  He turned to face me. “I’m the only biracial kid in my entire school. Pretty much this whole county.” He shrugged. “I don’t make a big deal out of it, but I’ll never tell anybody they don’t belong.”

  I nodded. Gabe wouldn’t stand out in my school in Chicago, where my classmates came from all kinds of backgrounds. But in this tiny town, it sounded like he did. “But … you still like living here?”

  “Sure I do. My friends are kinda cool.” He laughed and jerked his head jokingly toward Luke. “And our school has an awesome agricultural program. I’ll get to enroll next year. Plus, I don’t think I could live anywhere that didn’t have open spaces. I wouldn’t be able to breathe in a big city—”

  He stopped and pointed toward the cornfield.

  “Look there,” he whispered. “It’s an owl hunting. See it?”

  At first I didn’t, but then a fluttering movement caught my eye, and there it was, an owl with wings spr
ead, brushing the tops of the corn stalks.

  “How do you do that?” I asked him. “It’s like you have Spidey senses. You see everything.”

  He laughed. “I spend almost all my time outside. I just pay attention.”

  “Hey!” Wren’s voice called from the darkness up ahead. “You guys coming or what?”

  We doubled our pace, and a minute later, the pond came into view, along with two rowboats resting side by side along its shore. A million silver crescents rippled across the pond’s surface, and I supposed, for a moment, that it was pretty.

  “Best largemouth bass around.” Luke beamed proudly, wasting no time plunking his tackle box and pole into one of the boats.

  To me and Gabe, Wren said, “Luke will take you—”

  “Bria can come with me,” Gabe interrupted as he placed his gear into the second boat. He motioned for me to have a seat.

  Wren hesitated for a split second, seeming almost as confused as I was by Gabe’s announcement. But I joined him as he slid the boat smoothly into the water and quickly climbed in. The boat rocked unsteadily as he took his seat, and I clutched the side of it.

  “Don’t lean to one side like that,” Gabe advised as he took up the oars. “You’ll make the boat tilt. And keep your voice down or you’ll scare the fish.” I quickly moved to the center of my bench, and he cocked his head at me, adding, “You’ve never been on a boat before.”

  “I’ve been on boats,” I whisper-hissed. “I’ve taken water taxis around Chicago and the Lake Express ferry once, but …” Confession time. “… I’ve never been in a rowboat.”

  “Nothing to it,” Gabe said confidently.

  “Are there life jackets?” I asked uncertainly, peering under my bench.

  He laughed and leaned toward me, his eyes glinting. “The pond’s not that deep, Bria. You can swim, right?”

  “I better not have to swim,” I countered. Wren and Luke’s boat wasn’t too far yet, and I caught Wren’s eye as she watched us curiously. She looked quickly away. Yup, she was annoyed with me.

  Around the pond, every tree and shrub, the fences that ran alongside the pastures, the corn and bean fields—all of it had morphed into ghostly black shadows.