Good Girls

by Henry, Max

  The froth bubbles over the top and down to my hand. I lift the bottle and lick the residue off my thumb. “Ugh.” She laughs at my reaction. “It’s bitter.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” She uncaps a bottle for herself and takes a healthy swig before lifting the bag straps into the crook of her elbow and scouting the crowd. “Where do we start?”

  “Hey,” I tease. “You’re the tour guide tonight.”

  “Yeah,” she says with a smile. “I am.” Her bottle clinks against mine. “Let’s go find trouble!”

  We spend the first three bottles observing the party-goers. Maggie points out the various lower-level groups and who to watch out for as well as who to trust. She categorises the girls into three: Sensible Susans, Naughty Nitas, and Crazy Cathys.

  The Susans tend to be the kids who are the followers in their mini-circles, the girls who are everyone’s friend and nobody’s enemy. The type who keep their head down academically and tend to be used by their peers because they’re so reliable.

  The Nitas are the girls who have a dating record longer than Santa’s naughty list, and clothing shorter than their attention span. They’re the ones guaranteed to be somewhere dark with a guy by the end of the night. According to Maggie, there are rumours of a betting pool on which one ends up as a teen mum first.

  And the Cathys? She doesn’t say much about them other than they’re the girls you avoid if you want to stay untouched and in one piece. If they have a claim on a guy, by no means do you ever find yourself alone with him—even if it’s for school projects.

  “What about the boys?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I don’t pay as much attention to them. Guys tend to be all the same anyway. Root first, ask questions later. Sex on the mind twenty-four-seven.”

  I chuckle. “I guess they are.”

  “Where’s your brother tonight?” Maggie asks. “I thought somebody would have told him about this.”

  My gaze falls to the bottle in my hand. “He’s in the city with his old friends.”

  “Does he have new friends?” she snorts. “I’m sorry, it’s just he hasn’t done himself any favours here.”

  “It’s okay.” I wave her off with a shake of my head. “You’re right. He hasn’t.”

  Her tone softens, all humour gone from her worried gaze. “I heard through the grapevine about Johnson slamming into Colt’s car. Were you with him?”

  I nod.

  She huffs, shaking her head. “That’s bullshit, pal. If you ever want another ride to school, I’m always free.”

  “Thanks, but I think I have it sorted out.”

  “Well, the offer stands.”

  “I appreciate it.” I throw back a mouthful of beer to stall the conversation in its tracks. The frothy drink still tastes like hell, but Maggie was right: I’m getting used to it.

  An air horn blast tears across the paddock. I dam near wet myself, utterly unprepared for the loud intrusion. “What the hell?”

  Maggie giggles. “Now we’re talking.” She joins half the crowd in jogging toward the driveway. “Come on. You’ll love this.”

  Kids line the fence, leaning on the wooden rail, some of them even sitting atop. Maggie pushes between a couple, giving us a front-row space for what, I’m not sure. A loud clunk sounds and floodlights illuminate the top end of the driveway. Engines start behind us, and I twist to find most of the trucks that circled the fire moving toward where we stand. Four of them exit out the open gate and into the paddock opposite. They line up at intervals along the fence, as do the ones behind us, and shine their headlights across the driveway.

  “What’s going on?”

  Maggie points towards the yards. “Watch.”

  The muted yet undeniable rumble of a motorbike starts. “The Moto-hoes,” I whisper.

  Maggie laughs. “Not only them.” She jiggles with excitement. “Just wait. Wait.”

  The air horn sounds again, and the motorbike revs. The crowd all crane their necks to the left where, in the distance, a single headlight rockets toward us. As it nears, I realise what Maggie meant by this not being only the girls’ show. The stifled sound of hooves breaks through the racket created by the motorbike.

  I can’t freaking believe what I’m seeing. They’re past us in a flash of light and a cloud of dust, but there’s no doubt about what the crowd yell and holler for.

  One of the Moto-hoes races Johnson on his horse.

  “Isn’t that an unfair advantage?” I shout to Maggie to be heard over the people whooping and hollering—her included.

  She laughs, shaking her head. “Nope. The girls aren’t allowed over fifty kilometres an hour. It’s all in how well they start.”

  The motorbike cruises back up the driveway; its rider stands on the pegs as she pumps one hand in the air. Johnson trots past, smacking her on the back of the helmet before breaking into a canter. I laugh, caught up in the atmosphere as the girl pulls her helmet off.

  Amber. Damn it.

  My delight dies off, replaced in an instant by resting bitch face.

  “What’s the point to it all?” The noise dies down while we presumably wait for the next pair.

  “Bragging rights.”

  “That’s all?” It seems a bit showy for a mere popularity contest.

  “Have you ever been to an A and P show?” she asks, turning to face me.

  “A what?”

  “Agricultural and Pastoral show. You know, where the locals show off their prize breeders, compete on horseback, showcase new tractors, equipment, all that stuff?”

  I stare at her.

  “Right.” Her lips flatten into a thin line. “Well, around here, getting that first-place ribbon is everything. It means more than money or property.”

  I guess that’s not so different to what I’m accustomed to. Only our ribbons were dealt based on money and property.

  The air horn blasts again and all heads swivel left. This time I’m prepared for what comes toward us, leaning over the top of the fence to get a better look. The motorbike tears up the far side, but unlike Amber’s race, she’s currently losing.

  I switch focus to the horse that barrels toward us, the sound of its hooves a blended rumble of thunder it moves so damn quick. The bike’s headlight casts over the animal, illuminating the horse and rider in all their glory.

  My heart constricts. Wow.

  Tuck flicks the tail of the reins against Major’s flank with his right hand, left clutched tight near the animal’s mane as he leans forward in the saddle. Major’s ears are pinned back, the same look of determination on Tuck’s face as he flies past, checked shirt unbuttoned and flying behind him to reveal a deliciously sculpted body encased in a tight white wife-beater. The view from behind isn’t so bad either—my cheeks flame. Country boys sure know how to wear their jeans.

  “They’re so fast,” I gush as we all turn right.

  “He’s the area champ for a reason, you know.” Maggie punctuates her statement with a whoop, throwing both hands in the air.

  Sure enough, before long, Tuck comes trotting back past, a massive grin on his face as the crowd goes crazy. Even Major looks pleased with himself.

  “Suck shit, Dee,” Maggie screams beside me, hands cupped to her mouth.

  Dee flicks her middle finger high as she rides past. Tuck turns to see where the insult came from.

  I dive behind Maggie. Shadow envelops us when Major nears the fence line, blocking the lights from the other paddock.

  “Pleased with the outcome, Mags?”

  I peek out from behind her; my hands clutched on the back of her shirt.

  She laughs. “Pal, I’m happy with anyone who puts those bitches in their place.”

  Tuck’s gaze flicks to mine. He smiles, and then the smug prick destroys me by lifting one hand to his hat and giving me that little nod that country guys pull off so damn well. I’m dead—I’m sure of it.

  “Oh, my God,” I groan into Maggie’s shoulder.

  She giggles, tugging me aro
und to stand beside her again. “He’s hot, sure. But he’s also totally aware of it.”

  “So?” I squeak, suddenly aware that everyone around us saw me swoon. Awkward.

  “So, a girl should know that she can never compete with a guy’s ego when it’s as large as Tuck Brallant’s.”

  I hope that’s not the only large thing he has. I gasp, slapping a hand to my mouth at the audacity of my thoughts. Wow, Lacey. Just wow.

  “Eyes left,” Maggie instructs. “Ed will be next.”

  “What happens if they tie?”

  “Then they go again next weekend.”

  I lean on the fence, my body humming like an electric wire with the effect of Tuck’s tiny little gesture. “How often do they do it?”

  “Every term. Then the winning group at the end of the year get first pick on who they take to the school formal.”

  “Surely, they just go with each other, right?” My phone vibrates in the pocket of my coat.

  “Not always.”

  The airhorn fires again as I pull the device out and check the screen. Greer.

  G: Where are you, babe?

  L: Grounded after what I did to Richard.

  G: No way! That’s silly.

  I glance at Maggie, intently watching the contestants hurtle toward us, and realise how different my new friend is from the girls at Riverbourne. Silly, isn’t the type of word she’d use. I can hear something more along the lines of bullshit being her response.

  L: It’s only for a month, tops. Don’t worry about it. I go to add “I’m having fun,” yet hesitate. I’m not sure I want her asking why.

  G: Miss you!

  L: Miss you too x

  “Who’s that?” Maggie leans over.

  I realise the race has finished. “Who won?”

  “Mandy. It’s on Beau now if the guys want another chance at beating them.” She gestures to my phone with her chin. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Oh. Just an old friend from Riverbourne.”

  “Huh.”

  Ed and Mandy pass by, Mandy dancing on her seat as she idles toward the yards. I’m still gobsmacked that Beau’s parents let this kind of madness go down under their noses.

  Maggie claps her hands, leaning the farthest over the fence she has all night. “Beau’s next.”

  There’s definitely something going on down there.

  G: Hey. Maybe I could come out there and see you!

  My chest seizes. No. No, no, no. I’m not ready for that. Nope. Not yet.

  “Hope you didn’t miss my race completely.” Strong arms slide either side of me to brace on the fence. “Put your phone away and enjoy the night, huh?”

  A thrill rattles through my body, head to toe, at being encased so wholly by Tuck. “Of course, I didn’t miss it.”

  “Enjoying yourself?” His words tickle my ear as the air horn sounds for the last time.

  “It’s different,” I admit.

  “Hmm.” The vibrations from his chest set the thrill in motion once more. “Wanna go get lost?”

  Oh. My gosh. “I, uh, wouldn’t mind seeing who wins this one.”

  Maggie jumps and screams to my left, knocking me closer to Tuck.

  “Eh,” he grumbles, chewing on something. “Beau will. Come on.” One arm slides off the fence to tuck against my collarbones and pull me into him. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”

  “Where’s your brother?”

  “Why the hell does everyone keep asking me that?” I follow Tuck toward the yards.

  “Probably because he’s your bother,” the smartarse quips.

  I didn’t tell Maggie where I was going. She was far to invested in Beau as he ran his race to notice I’d left.

  “He’s not with me tonight, and that’s all that matters,” I snap, burying my hands in my pockets.

  How on earth Tuck doesn’t freeze his arse off when all he wears is a tank top and thin open shirt… Still. A girl can’t complain about what’s on show. Sure, he looks great in his school uniform. But there’s a rough natural edge to him tonight that I’m totally into. He smells like hay, leather, and horses, with a little bit of something more masculine hiding beneath.

  He smells like honesty.

  “Glad he ain’t,” Tuck replies. “Otherwise it might have been harder to get you on your own.”

  The way he watches me after he said it… this guy can sure send me into a tailspin.

  “So, um, what are you going to show me?” My shoulders curl forward, hands still firmly pocketed at my sides.

  “What goes on behind the scenes.” Tuck slides an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side.

  He doesn’t say any more; chin held high as he walks with me bumping against him. It would be so much easier if I slid my arm around his waist, but I’m not ready to send out that signal yet. Not when I’m still a fraction suspicious of his intent.

  I peer up at him as we cross through an open gate and into the dirt yard, the floodlights casting a shadow over his face from the brim of his hat. His lips are curled up slightly on one side, a smug little grin as though he’s happy with himself. I suppose he probably rides the high of the race.

  All the same, for a fleeting second, I wonder what it would be like to tuck myself against him every day, to be the reason for that proud smile.

  We round the corner of a building and Tuck lets me go as the rest of the group come into view. The rejection isn’t unexpected given how the rest of these jerks feel about me, but it stings all the same. Major stands tethered to the front of the stables beside Ed’s horse. Johnson runs a brush over his beast in a stall to our left.

  The most unsettling find is Amber, and Dee leant against their bikes, arms folded while they watch me approach.

  “Who said the rich bitch could come back here?” Amber quips.

  Dee curls her lip as she drags her gaze the length of me. I feel all of an inch high. Not only that, but I suddenly have a newfound respect for the commoners back at Riverbourne. I’m guessing this is how they feel whenever they’re near the Chosen.

  “I did,” Tuck drops casually, not looking her way as he leads us past them toward Major. “She’s here to learn.”

  Am I?

  “What?” Dee snorts. “You brought her back here so she can play pretend?”

  “Lay off,” Tuck growls.

  “Why are you two skanks still here anyway?” Johnson calls across the yard.

  I’m surprised that he chose to have a go at them over me.

  “Here.” Tuck unloops Major’s reins and hands them over.

  I reluctantly take hold. “Are you sure?”

  “He’ll be fine with you. I’m here.” Tuck starts again toward the last stall.

  Amber and Dee turn their heads when Mandy rides past the end of the buildings with Cate. They push off their bikes, climbing on and twisting the keys. I tighten my hold on Major’s reins knowing how he reacted last time they made a racket with their bikes.

  Tuck glances over his shoulder, appearing to think the same as he stops walking to let me catch up, and then takes the lead in hand.

  Sure enough, the girls head down the alley between the two buildings, Amber slowing as she passes by us only to rip her throttle open and send Major rearing at the noise.

  “Hey,” Tuck coos, settling Major down.

  I keep a safe distance while Johnson hollers after the girls. “Yeah, you fuck off! Stupid bitches.”

  Ed’s horse sidesteps where it’s still tethered to the building. I glance around and fail to see him. “Where’s Ed?”

  Tuck grins, one hand stroking Major’s neck. “You don’t want to know.” He jerks his head to the stall. “Open the door, would you?”

  I have no idea why I’m taking instructions from this guy, but I get the feeling he could tell me to jump in an icy lake, and I’d only hesitate to ask which one. My fingers find the steel catch, lifting the slide to open the half-door.

  Tuck leads Major onto the clean hay, tying h
im once more to a steel ring bolted to the wall. “First, we need to strip him off.” Hand trailing down the horse’s neck, he finds his way to the saddle and lifts the side to undo the girth strap.

  Now, this is something I know a little bit about. Riverbourne had a polo team, and at one stage, I was friends with a boy who practiced after school. I would sit and watch him undress his horse while we talked often enough that I know what to do.

  To Tuck’s surprise, I reach out and introduce myself to Major properly, letting him sniff my hands and coat before I join in removing the tack.

  “I thought you didn’t like horses?” He watches me from the corner of his eye as I lift the plain halter off the wall and slide it around Major’s neck.

  “I never said I didn’t like them. I’ve just never ridden one myself to know much about them.”

  “Yet you know what you’re doing right now.” He pauses, hand on Major’s back while I slide the bridle over the horse’s ears and wait for him to drop the bit.

  “I’ve seen it done once or twice.” I slip the halter over Major’s nose and then tighten the strap before securing him to the lead once more.

  “Got any other secrets I might want to know?” Tuck reaches up, one hand on the horn, the other on the back of the seat, and slides the saddle off Major.

  Only that I have a crush on you I can’t deny. “I don’t think so.”

  His arms flex beneath his shirt as he hoists the saddle over the door. “Nah,” Tuck rumbles. “I bet you do.” He turns to remove the blanket from Major’s back.

  Our eyes connect while I idly massage Major’s neck. The horse lifts his head, sniffing my hair and his huffed breath ruffles the lengths into my face.

  Tuck laughs. “He likes you.”

  “Is that a surprise?”

  “He doesn’t like too many people, no.”

  “He’s fast, though.” I like this conversation with Tuck. It’s light and comfortable.

  Nothing like it was when he tore me a new one at school.

  “He is, yeah. That’s why I got him. Not because he’s well behaved.”

  “A bit like you then?”

  Tuck tilts his head, giving me a half smile.

  “Maybe I’ll see you in action at a competition one day?”