Maybe This Time

by Kasie West

  Gunnar raced ahead of her and then around me and Andrew once and then twice before he stopped in front of us and said, “Hi, y’all. Momma said I could do four things tonight so I’m gonna bob for apples, do the pie-eating contest, the ropin’ contest, and of course the maze. Momma said, seein’ as how I just turned eleven, I should do it by myself this year.”

  The maze was huge. It covered five acres of the land. “You said that?” I asked my mom when she reached us.

  “What did I say?” she asked, picking up her foot and shaking a clod of dirt off one heel and then the other. I wasn’t sure why she’d worn heels to the Fall Festival. She’d never done that before.

  “You said Gunnar should do the maze by himself?”

  “He’s eleven,” Mom replied. “Of course I said that.”

  “The recommended solo age is fourteen.”

  “Recommended age?” She stuck out her tongue. “Since when? Everyone is so worried about liability these days that they have to post stuff like that. He’ll be fine.”

  I realized that my mom, in all her high-heeled glory, probably just didn’t want to have to walk a five-acre maze with Gunnar this year. “I can go with him,” I said.

  “Yeah, you can come with me,” Gunnar said, which let me know that my mom had probably told him that if he wanted to do the maze this year, he had to do it by himself.

  “You can’t always baby him,” Mom told me.

  “I was going to do the maze anyway,” I said.

  “Will you come with us too?” Gunnar asked Andrew.

  “Absolutely,” Andrew said.

  “Yay!” Gunnar jumped up and down several times.

  “You don’t have to,” I told Andrew. I remembered Micah saying something about him needing to take pictures.

  “I want to.”

  “Sophie,” my mom said. “I have news.”

  I turned back to her. “Okay … what is it?”

  She threw back her shoulders and pulled an envelope with a jagged edge out of the back pocket of her jeans. “You got the scholarship!”

  I blinked, confused. “What? What scholarship?”

  “Mr. Washington’s.” She thrust the envelope into my hands.

  I still wasn’t following. “I didn’t apply for this.”

  “I did,” she said with a beaming smile. “Congratulations!”

  “But—but I’m not going to school in Alabama.” I stared down at the envelope. “This is only for Alabama schools.”

  She blew air between her lips. “Now you have options.” My mom pointed over to Mr. Williams’s booth. “Oh look, there’s Micah. I’m going to go say hi.”

  I watched her walk away. My eyes went back down to the envelope that was addressed to me but that had already been opened. My chest felt tight. No. Someone else wasn’t going to force a future on me that I didn’t want. I folded the envelope once and stuffed it in the back pocket of my jeans. I looked up to realize Andrew was still there as a witness to another embarrassing interaction.

  “I have like five more centerpieces to grab,” I said quickly. “I’ll see you later.”

  He nodded, brought out his phone, and joined the crowd that was beginning to form.

  When I got back to the flower van, swallowing down the frustration in my throat, Caroline was there. “You did a good job with these,” she told me, assessing the flowers in the back. “I’m glad we went with your suggestion.”

  I smiled, momentarily forgetting Mom and the scholarship. This event marked the first time ever that I’d spoken up. The first time I’d come to a pre-event meeting with a plan. Wildflowers.

  I’d come up with the idea after a Saturday I’d spent hiking with my brother in the foothills. Wildflowers made me think of nymphs and moss-carpeted forests and woodland creatures. I’d wanted to create some sort of design with those images. I was relieved Caroline had gone with my idea.

  “Well,” Caroline said. She handed me two centerpieces. “Have fun tonight.”

  The weight of the envelope in my pocket seemed to mock that suggestion. I gritted my teeth, pulled the envelope out, and threw it onto the front seat of the van. It wasn’t going to ruin my night.

  The sound of a guitar being tuned rang out over the speakers. I looked over to see Kyle on the stage in the food court area with his band. What? They were playing tonight? Usually a local country band was chosen for this event. I waited for annoyance to take over my emotions, but I felt next to nothing when looking at him.

  “I will have fun,” I said to Caroline. “I will.”

  What are the rules?” Andrew asked.

  “You’ve never bobbed for apples?” I asked. “Like ever?”

  “You act like this is a normal, everyday activity.”

  “It’s as American as baseball.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” he said. “I think you’re confusing bobbing for apples with apple pie. Is that being served somewhere?”

  “Maybe it’s just a country thing,” I said.

  Micah, who had wandered over to the barrels when she saw me and Andrew there, snorted. “It’s not.”

  Micah gestured to someone over my shoulder, and I turned to see Lance heading toward us.

  “What’s everyone doing?” he asked.

  “We’re teaching Andrew how to bob for apples,” Micah said.

  “This is a game where there are no winners,” Lance said.

  Micah laughed. “That’s not true.”

  “Either way you end up wet,” he said.

  “Pay no attention to the distractions,” I said. “So the rules.” I pointed to Gunnar, who was on his knees assessing the barrel. “You can’t use your hands.”

  “The only thing you can use is your teeth,” Micah amended.

  “Right,” I said. “And you’ll be timed. They’ll add your name to that super-cool whiteboard there. And at the end of the night, the fastest person to retrieve an apple with their teeth will be crowned apple-bobbing champion.”

  “Such an honor,” Lance said sarcastically.

  “You’re just bitter because I always beat you,” Micah said.

  “What?” Lance pretended to gasp. “I think your memory is off.”

  Micah pushed his shoulder and chuckled.

  Andrew raised his eyebrows at me but then nodded to the barrel. “Sounds easy enough.”

  “It’s so not,” I said.

  “Bobbers ready,” Mr. Pitman called out.

  “You going to do it?” I asked Andrew, who was rolling up his sleeves in preparation.

  “Next round. I’m going to watch technique first.”

  “Good call,” I said.

  “Go!” Mr. Pitman said as he pushed a button on his stopwatch.

  Gunnar put his whole head in the barrel, water splashing everywhere.

  I took a step back.

  “See what I mean?” Lance said.

  “It’s a perfectly good method,” Micah said.

  We all watched Gunnar’s head circle the barrel. Andrew laughed. Finally, Gunnar came up with an apple clutched in his teeth, flinging his head back and spraying water over the watching crowd.

  Gunnar took a big bite of his apple and smiled. “That’s how you do it!” he proclaimed.

  “Got it,” Andrew said, taking a small step forward.

  “Just don’t think about all the slobber that’s in that barrel,” I said. “Nobody else around here seems to.”

  “Is that why you don’t participate, Sophie?” Micah asked.

  “No, I’m just vain and don’t want to mess up my makeup.”

  Micah smiled then raised her hand. “I’ll challenge you, Andrew.”

  He pointed at her. “You’re on.”

  “Be careful, she cheats,” Lance said.

  “I do not!”

  Mr. Pitman called out the ready signal. Micah and Andrew knelt down and put their hands behind their backs.

  “And go!” Mr. Pitman yelled.

  Andrew was hilarious to watch. He had no idea what
he was doing. The apples kept bobbing up and down because he didn’t realize he somehow had to find the resistance—the barrel’s side, the barrel’s bottom, something. So, of course, Micah came up first with an apple in her mouth. Then she reached over and dunked Andrew’s head under. He came up laughing, flinging water from his hair all over her.

  “That was fun,” he said when they were done.

  “That’s because we know how to have fun around here,” Micah replied, smiling. “That said, we need to get back to work.” She pushed my shoulder a little, which made me laugh, and left with Lance.

  Andrew turned a full circle. “What’s next?”

  “You expect me to entertain you all night?”

  “This is your favorite event. So yes, I figured I’d stay by your side all night.”

  I wasn’t sure why, but my stomach flipped with that statement. I tried to ignore it but then I didn’t know what to say. I fumbled with the handle on the barrel next to me, then noticed a roll of paper towels on the table. I handed the roll to Andrew. “For your dripping hair.”

  He ripped off a strip and mopped his forehead.

  Behind him, the lights strung around the food booths lit up. “You ready for a sampling of true Southern food?” I asked, my stomach growling. “I’m guessing you haven’t had any since you’ve been here. You’ve been filled full of eggs Benedict and broccoli salad and chocolate mousse.”

  “I did have that barbecue in July. You can’t forget about that.”

  “And neither can you, obviously. Because that’s what amazing food does. It changes you.”

  He laughed. “Have you been watching old episodes of Cooking with Hart?”

  “I have actually. I’ve been trying to uncover the secrets of getting on your father’s good side.”

  “Let me know if you find any.”

  I sighed. “If your seventeen years of in-depth study haven’t uncovered anything, I have no hope.”

  “I wouldn’t say that I study my dad in depth.” He nodded his head to the side. “Which booth do we start at?”

  “The okra, of course.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve had okra before and it’s not an experience I want to repeat.”

  “It’s fried, Andrew, and covered in cheese. Believe me, you have not had it like this.” I took him by the hand and dragged him toward the food.

  “If I have another bite of food, I will die,” Andrew groaned, pushing his plate with a half-eaten fried pickle on it to the middle of the table.

  “Weak,” I said. “We haven’t even had any of the desserts.”

  “Are those fried too?”

  “Some of them.”

  “How are you not full?” he asked.

  “I only took a few bites of each item. You are obviously an amateur.”

  “Of course you didn’t tell me that secret.”

  “I did! I said, ‘Pace yourself, Andrew, we still have half the food booths left.’ ”

  “Oh, right.” He laid his forehead on his arms on the table. “Just give me thirty minutes or so. I’ll get my second wind.”

  Gunnar appeared at our table. “Are y’all ready to do the maze?” he asked impatiently. “Mom said we have to leave in one hour. That might not even be enough time to get through it. Is it enough time, Soph?”

  “If we start now.” I stood up and Gunnar whirled around and took off in a dead sprint.

  Andrew groaned again.

  “You don’t have to come,” I told him.

  “No, I’m coming. Very slowly, but I’m coming.”

  “Micah!” I called out to where she was standing across the way, busing a table. When she looked, I pointed at the maze. “Maze time!”

  She held up her finger.

  Gunnar zoomed back over to me and took hold of my hand, giving it a tug. “I thought we were going.”

  “Almost. We’re waiting for Micah.”

  Andrew climbed to his feet only to lean a hand on the table. A big group of guys from school walked by. One of them threw a container full of fries at the trash nearby, but it missed and landed on the ground right next to me, spraying ketchup all over my jeans.

  “Thanks, Brady,” I called out.

  He waved. “No problem, darlin’.”

  “Ugh,” I said as they kept walking. “Losers.” I grabbed some napkins and mopped up my jeans.

  “Who are losers?” Micah asked, coming over. Her eyes locked on the group, obviously figuring out who I was referring to. She didn’t say anything.

  I noticed my mom walking in the distance. With every step she took, she had to shake dirt off her heels.

  “What was she thinking?” I asked.

  “She wanted to look her best.” Micah always took my side when it came to my mom so this surprised me.

  “She’s ridiculous,” I said. “She wore heels to a farm.”

  “There’s not a set dress code for every event,” Micah persisted. “Even though I’m sure you’d like there to be.”

  “I know,” I said. “But some things are common sense.”

  “Kind of like leaving this town?” Micah asked, turning to face me. “Is that common sense? Should everyone want to do it?” Suddenly, she was speaking quickly, her words running together. “Should everyone here live every day of their lives as though they’re already gone? Some people can actually appreciate where they are at the moment, even if it’s a small town in the middle of nowhere. But maybe only the little people who belong here can do that. The losers.”

  My mouth dropped open and I snapped it shut. Then I managed to speak again. “Wh-what?” I stuttered out. “Why would you say that? I thought we talked about this. I’ve been distracted with my portfolio and my future, but that doesn’t mean I think people who want to stay here are losers.”

  “Then why don’t you give anyone around here a chance?” She shot a pointed look at Andrew, as if the only reason I was hanging out with him at all was because he wasn’t a local. “It’s like you think the fewer connections you have here, the easier it will be to leave it all behind.”

  “What?” I didn’t know what else to say. I shook my head, searching for the right words. “I—of course I wouldn’t leave it behind. My mom and my brother are here. You’re here.”

  “Your dad didn’t seem to have a problem leaving everything. He left without looking back.”

  “My dad?”

  “Yes, that man who never visits. Not once since he left.”

  I felt shock bubbling up in me. “And you have an issue with this?” I demanded, staring Micah down. “You, with your perfect family life, are not allowed to have issues because of my dad. Those aren’t yours to claim.”

  “Well, I’ve claimed them because I sense that you are exactly like him,” Micah said defiantly. And just like that, she turned on her heel and was gone.

  I moved to follow her, hurt and anger competing to take hold of my emotions, when Andrew grabbed my arm.

  “Just give it a minute,” he said. “That’s the kind of speech that needs a little thinking space.”

  I yanked my arm out of his grip. “You know my best friend better than me now?”

  “I meant space for you.”

  Tears stung my eyes. I put my palm to my forehead. He was right. I didn’t want him to be but he was. I needed to think before I reacted. What had just happened?

  “My dad can have dreams,” I said. “He shouldn’t have to give up everything.”

  He didn’t say a word.

  “And I don’t hate Rockside,” I went on. “I mean, there are things I hate about this place, but there are things everyone hates about the town they live in, right?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “And I definitely don’t hate Micah. She’s everything.” I walked three steps one way and then back three steps. “Sure, sometimes I’m judgmental. And maybe occasionally I’ve been condescending and …” I gasped. “Oh no.” I looked at Andrew. “I’ve been you.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

 
“Oh, you know what I mean.”

  He gave a half smile. “Yes, I do.”

  “But what she said—”

  A loud crashing sound to my left rang out, followed by Jett Hart yelling a string of curses. My head whipped over. The first thing I saw was the deep fryer on the ground, steam rising from the hot oil that was now all over the dirt. The second thing I saw was my brother, standing there with his head down and his hands to his chest. I turned and ran to him.

  By the time I reached my brother, Jett was on another round of yelling.

  “You are an irresponsible, hyperactive child who needs to be watched at all times! Where is your mother?”

  I reached Gunnar’s side and knelt down, looking him over. “Are you hurt?” I asked. “Did you get burned?”

  He shook his head no, his eyes watering.

  “Of course he didn’t get hurt,” Jett growled. “But he destroyed the entire booth!”

  I looked around for Mr. Williams, but he was busy asking Lance to bring over a trash can.

  I stood and faced Jett. “He’s just a child and it was an accident.”

  “Ah. Your brother.” He raised one eyebrow. “How could I have forgotten? You will pay for this damage, Ms. Evans! It’s about time you had to face some consequences. People seem to handle you with kid gloves around here.”

  “Dad.” Andrew’s voice cut in low but hard. I hadn’t even seen him come up beside me. “Stop.”

  “Son, this is none of your business. Help Mr. Williams clean up and take that delinquent to his mother.”

  I balled my hands into fists and was about to say something, but then Andrew spoke again.

  “It is my business,” he said, “because these are my friends, and how you’re acting is not okay. You have a temper problem.”

  Jett’s expression hardened. “Walk away, boy, before you say something you regret.”

  “Pretty sure I’ve lived my whole life regretting the things I didn’t say.”

  “Andrew,” I said. I didn’t want me or my brother to be the reason that he and his dad had a falling out.

  Andrew held up his hand but continued to stare his dad in the eyes. “He’s just a kid. A young kid who has no way to defend himself against you. You can’t expect him to be a mini adult who has all the answers and does everything exactly the way you would do it.”