Uncle Troy and Aunt Beth exchanged smiles, and Wren, Luke, and Gabe all burst out laughing. I stopped midstep to look at all of them.
“What?”
“Bria, don’t panic or anything,” Gabe started teasingly, then leaned toward me to whisper, “but I think you might like rodeos.”
I couldn’t deny it. “I do,” I agreed, sounding as surprised as I felt. “I really do.”
Luke gasped and staggered like he was going to fall over from shock, but Aunt Beth looked pleased.
“Look out,” Wren said with the first genuine smile she’d had all night. “She’s gone country.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I do love these boots.”
As everyone laughed, I took in the street before us: the eclectic displays in the shop windows and the old, historic brick warehouses turned into trendy restaurants. Wrought-iron accents graced some of the storefronts and outside cafes where diners mingled, sitting at candlelit tables. It didn’t look at all the way I’d imagined. I was surprised to find that I thought it looked … cool.
“I’m glad I got to meet your dad, too,” I told Gabe. We’d talked with Dr. Reeves before we left, but he’d been busy examining a bull rider with a broken leg, so he’d only had a minute. Even in that short time I’d seen how much alike Gabe and his dad were—both soft-spoken and with a merry kindness in their eyes. “I see where you get your gift with animals from. Your dad has the same gift with his patients.”
“He’s a great doctor,” Gabe said. “And … thanks. For saying that. I like the idea of being like him.” He smiled at me, and my pulse skipped.
Ahead of us, Uncle Troy pointed up toward a festive-looking steakhouse strung with colored lights. “The restaurant’s just up ahead.”
We were nearly at the door when I heard someone in the distance, calling my name. Confused, I turned to a shadowy figure waving to me from across the street.
“Bria! Omigod, it is you!”
My heart slammed in my chest as Leila—of all people!—stepped out from under an awning and into the light of the streetlamps, making her way toward me with another girl in tow. I was still trying to wrap my head around Leila actually being in Omaha when she reached me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as she gave me a light peck on each cheek. “This is crazy—”
“We’re only staying here for one night. We’re on our way to Colorado for Fourth of July week.” She rolled her eyes. “Family vacation.” She mouthed the word boring.
“Oh.” My tone was surprised. “I … didn’t know you were going to Colorado.”
“Sure you did. And I told you we might be driving through Omaha, too. Remember?” Before I had a chance to respond, she added a clipped, “I can see you don’t. Way to listen, bestie.”
I racked my brain until a vague memory surfaced of Leila mentioning casually that she “might” be passing through Omaha. “Oh, yeah. You did. Sorry. I guess I forgot.”
“No biggie.” Leila slid her arm around the brunette standing beside her. “Anyway, Chrissie just moved back to Chicago from Paris. Our fams have been close for ages. Her parents have a vacation home in Vail, and our dads are doing a whole hiking, water-rafting thing.”
“Oh,” I said again, feeling awkward. “Hi,” I said to Chrissie, who gave me a curt nod. How had I never heard about Chrissie before? Especially if they were close the way Leila said they were? Despite this, I cleared my throat and smiled at Leila. “How are you? I emailed you a bunch of times, but you only wrote back once …”
“Right.” She drew out the word. “That’s what happens when you don’t have a cell phone and can’t text. Anyway, what are you doing in Omaha? I thought you were still stranded in the backwoods somewhere. On that farm or whatever.” She whispered something into Chrissie’s ear, and they both giggled.
I shifted uncomfortably, sensing that my family and Gabe were watching us all. “We came into Omaha for the rodeo tonight.” I introduced my aunt and uncle and everyone else, but Leila seemed only mildly interested, at best. A moment of awkward silence followed, and then Uncle Troy said they would all wait for me inside the restaurant.
As soon as they started walking away, Leila burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Bria. I feel so awful for you. You’re on a farm with nothing to do. And now they’re dragging you to rodeos?”
“It wasn’t so bad,” I started. “And I’ve been doing some cool stuff at the farm. My aunt and uncle have this creamery, and I’ve been inventing shakes for them to sell. They’re kind of like the ones at Sip & Shake, but my own ideas, and—”
“Wait.” She waved a hand to stop me. “First, spending your summer copycatting Sip & Shake shakes is so … desperate. And, second … I mean, look at you!” She glanced at my outfit. “What are you even wearing?”
My cheeks burned. A little voice in my head reminded me that I’d wanted to wear everything I had on and that I even loved the boots. But a bigger part of me seized with panic. What had I been thinking? I couldn’t tell Leila the truth. She would lump me in with the rest of the “fashion losers” she loved to laugh at, maybe even put me in her next YouTube video. Worse, what if she decided I wasn’t worth being friends with anymore? It wasn’t like I could go back to hanging with Jane or Devany. Not after how I’d treated Jane.
I swallowed, then blurted, “I wanted to wear it for my cousin. I feel so sorry for her. She has the worst fashion sense, and she’s been dealing with some stuff lately, so …” I shrugged. “I let her pick out an outfit for me. One of hers.” I rolled my eyes, even as a wave of guilt washed over me. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in something like this otherwise. You know that.”
Leila scoffed. “I wouldn’t be caught in it ever. But it’s your fashion disaster. I guess it’s sweet that you let your cousin try, even if she failed. Miserably.”
I clenched my fists, hating what she was saying, and—more—hating what I’d just said. But Leila was my social lifeline, and I was paralyzed at the possibility of what defying her might do. Desperate to get out of this situation as quickly as possible, I said, “Well, I should get inside. They’re waiting for me.”
“We should go, too,” Chrissie said, in a tone that seemed to say she’d already wasted enough time with me for one night, or maybe for the rest of her life.
Leila nodded and said, “Don’t worry, Bria. Chrissie and I will get you back on track before school. After you come home, we’ll have some real shakes and you can fix …” She gestured to my outfit. “… this.”
She linked arms with Chrissie, gave me one last wave, and walked back across the street. Regret weighing heavily on me, I turned toward the restaurant, and nearly slammed into Wren.
Nausea instantly churned my stomach. Oh no. How long had Wren been there? What had she heard?
“Wren, what are you—”
“Mom sent me out to get you.” Her expression was grim and her tone was clipped, confirming my worst fears. “Our table’s ready.” She spun on her heel and was ten steps ahead of me before I even had time to react.
I scrambled to catch up with her. My heart hammered. “Wren, wait up!” I caught her hand just as we reached the restaurant’s door, and she whirled on me, eyes blazing. “Wren, I—”
“Leave me alone!” She spat the words, and I instinctively jerked back from them. “God, I feel like such an idiot.” She gestured to her outfit. “I dressed up like this, thinking it would make a difference with Gabe. But what’s the point?” Her words were flat, cold stones dropping to the ground. “I have the worst fashion sense ever!” Her eyes bored into mine. “Isn’t that what you just said? I’m such a horrible dresser that you actually feel sorry for me. I heard every word.”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I couldn’t argue with the truth. For a second, I thought I might be sick.
Wren’s voice wavered between rage and sadness. “I wish you’d never come here.”
“Wren,” I croaked, finally finding my voice. “I didn’t mean it.
I swear. You have no idea what Leila’s like, how much influence she has.”
“Why do you even care?” She threw up her hands. “You said yourself that she’s barely emailed you at all this summer. And she was all cozied up to that other girl, when she’s supposed to be your best friend. What sort of a best friend is she, when she makes fun of you and everyone else you know?”
“I—I …” I couldn’t think of a single thing to say in Leila’s defense. Not right now. “I shouldn’t have said what I did, and I—”
“Save it.” Even in the darkness under the restaurant’s awning, I could see Wren’s trembling mouth and welling eyes. “You’re no better than she is.” She yanked open the door. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
The door gave a resolute Bang! as Wren disappeared behind it, and I was left standing outside, gutted, my own eyes filling. After sucking in a shuddering breath and wiping my eyes, I stepped through the door, wondering how I was going to make it through dinner with my family, when I’d betrayed them all.
* * *
I woke up disoriented and with a kink in my neck. It took me several seconds to identify the unfamiliar shadows around me as the lamps, bookshelves, and coffee table of the den. The second we’d gotten back to the farm, Wren had locked herself in the bedroom, so I’d opted to sleep on the couch downstairs. Aunt Beth had tried to find out what had happened, sitting down beside me on the couch after Luke and Uncle Troy had gone to bed. But how could I possibly tell her? Each time I thought about it, a fresh wave of nausea crashed over me. All I could manage was a wretched, “Wren and I had a fight. But don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
If only I believed that were true.
Wide-awake now, I resigned myself to the fact that I’d probably never get back to sleep. Even though it was three thirty in the morning, I flipped on the side table lamp and brought my aunt’s old photo albums out from their spot on the bookshelf. I hadn’t looked through them before, but now I took my time, pausing over each old photo of my aunt and mom, paying attention to every detail. To my surprise, I recognized so many of the spots where the pictures had been taken. There was the old tire swing in the barn and the front porch of the farm house. There were Aunt Beth and Mom as little girls, sharing a vanilla milkshake, forehead to forehead, at a booth in the creamery. There they were running through the cornfields and riding in the hay wagon.
As time moved on in the albums, there were photos of their weddings, of my grandfather holding me and Wren in his arms as newborns, only a few months apart. We were cousins, but we looked so much alike in our baby pictures, we might’ve been mistaken for twins. I traced the outline of our toddler faces with my fingertip, my heart aching. How could I have hurt her so badly? And all for the sake of Leila?
What sort of a best friend is she? Wren’s words were a haunting echo in my mind.
Suddenly, I was revisiting every one of Leila’s snarky comments over the course of our friendship, every subtle dig she made at my expense, every joke she made at someone else’s. For so long, I’d thought her remarks about people’s outfits were clever and her choosiness over friends a mark of discernment. But now, it was as if a curtain had lifted, and I was seeing her the way other people did. The way Wren had. And probably Jane, too. As snobby, elitist, and hurtful.
My eyes brimmed as a certainty swept through me. I’d been fooled by Leila. Worse than that, I’d been becoming more and more like her. Maybe I’d done something good making shakes for the creamery, but had I been a good friend to Wren in the process? Had I tried—really tried—to help her through all the family drama over CheeseCo? Or had I just focused on myself instead?
The wall of tears I’d held back all night broke open, and I started crying. The tears seeped the shame out of me, and once my eyes were parched and tired, a calmness replaced it. As soon as I decided what I was going to do, the weight in my chest lifted a little. Apologizing wouldn’t be easy, but I had to try.
Setting the photo albums to the side, I sat down at Aunt Beth’s computer and opened my email. Taking a deep breath, I started a message to Jane. Jane, the one who’d still emailed me weeks ago, despite what I’d done to her. Jane, a true, good friend—someone I should never have given up in the first place. Hi Jane, I began with trembling fingers.
You probably didn’t expect to hear back from me. But I wanted to thank you for emailing me, especially when I don’t deserve it. I also wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way I treated you over the last few months. I’m even sorrier for helping Leila with her YouTube video. I haven’t been myself, and I hurt you. I see that now.
I’m not sure you want to talk to me, or ever hang out with me again. But I hope you will, someday. I’d love to see you and Devany when I get back to Chicago. Maybe we can try a new shake place together? The three of us.
Love,
Bria
I sat back, reread the email a few times through, and then, before I lost my nerve, hit SEND.
With the email done, I checked the creamery’s website and social media traffic. I wrote down all the stats for the last two weeks. (I knew Wren hadn’t been checking it.) A plan was forming in my mind, but I was going to need all the evidence I could muster. I didn’t know if Wren would even want to hear my idea, or if she’d ever speak to me again. But again, I had to try.
I didn’t want to be like Leila. Not anymore. I didn’t want to be like anyone except myself.
And right now, Bria Muller needed to try to make everything right.
A heat wave swept into Tillman County in the predawn hours, and by the time Aunt Beth, Uncle Troy, and Luke came downstairs, the air inside was sticky with humidity. Still, when Luke asked Aunt Beth why Wren wasn’t up yet, I knew it was guilt that turned my palms sweaty.
“She’ll be down later” was all Aunt Beth said, but the worried look she exchanged with Uncle Troy only made me feel worse.
I imagined Wren curled into a ball in her bed upstairs, the pile of discarded farming magazines sitting atop her dresser—the magazines she hadn’t touched since my aunt and uncle’s announcement about selling the farm. My heart squeezed. I knew that there was really only one small way I could start making amends for what I’d said to Leila about Wren—words that were still lodged like splinters in my gut.
“I think I’ll wait on breakfast,” I said to Aunt Beth as I folded up the blanket I’d slept on the couch with. “I want to get the chores done before it gets much hotter.”
“Smart,” Uncle Troy said, mopping his brow with a handkerchief.
I headed out the front door and went in search of Gabe. He didn’t usually work on Saturdays, but Uncle Troy and Luke had asked for a little extra help getting the farm ready for the Fourth of July Bash.
As I walked through the farmyard, I heard the strumming of Gabe’s guitar drifting from the open door of the milking barn. My breath caught, and I froze midstep, second-guessing my decision. Oh, I loved the sound of that guitar. And the boy behind the music was in the barn, the country boy who—against everything I thought I’d wanted—had stolen my citified heart.
But then I thought about Wren’s crumpling face, about the shield she was so good at placing between herself and the world, and how I’d seen the vulnerable girl behind it. Even though it might be one of the hardest things I’d ever have to do, if I stood any chance at gaining back Wren’s friendship, I was going to have to forget about my crush on Gabe … forever. I stiffened with resolve and walked into the milking barn.
There was Gabe, perched on a stool with his guitar, his hair falling into his eyes. When he glanced up and gave me that charming smile of his, the rest of the world fell away. It only made what I was about to do that much harder.
“Hey, you.” Gabe stood up and came toward me, but when he saw the look on my face, his smile faded into a look of concern. “What’s the matter?”
My ears filled with my roaring pulse. “I—I need to talk to you.” I swallowed, trying to bolster myself long enough to say what I didn
’t want to, but had to, say. “I—I’m so sorry.” Each word was a nettle on my tongue. “But I can’t go to the movies with you tomorrow.”
His smile dropped, and the pink in his cheeks flamed to crimson. “I—I don’t understand … Why not?” He glanced down at the ground as if he were trying to work through a puzzle. “I already bought the tickets, and I thought that you, I mean, maybe I misread …” He lifted his head, and when I saw the bruised look in his eyes, my heart broke. “I thought that—”
“That I liked you?” I finished, forcing my voice into a calmness that my trembling body didn’t feel. I kept pushing words out of my mouth, even though each one was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. “I didn’t—don’t. I’m sorry if I misled you. I didn’t mean to.” I swallowed thickly.
“You … you didn’t mean to mislead me?” His normally quiet voice was hardening, growing colder. “So was it some kind of joke between you and your city friends back home? To see if you could humiliate some boy from Tillman?”
“N—no!” I stammered, floored that he would even think such a thing. “It wasn’t like that at all.”
“Sure it wasn’t.” He shook his head. “I really believed that you’d changed since coming here. That you’d dropped the attitude for something real. I guess I was wrong.” He brushed past me, marching toward the barn door.
“Gabe.” Every fiber of my being stung from his words. But he was right, in a way. When I’d first gotten here, hadn’t I done my best to try to prove how “above” the farm I was? And now I was paying the price for it. For all of it. “Gabe, wait! Please.”
He slowed, then stopped, regret carving a deep trough in his forehead. “What is it?” he asked me.
“I wanted to say …” I sighed, knowing I couldn’t come right out and tell him about Wren. She was already mad at me now, but she’d never forgive me for revealing her secret. Still, painful as it was, maybe I could drop a hint. “There could be someone right under your nose who likes you. Maybe you’ve just never noticed.”
His brow crinkled in confusion, but then his eyes widened, and I knew he understood who I was talking about. The weight of what I’d done sank in. I’d opened a doorway between Gabe and Wren, and shut myself off from Gabe forever.
Shake It Off Page 12
