by Cheree Alsop
I turned back to thank Madelyn, but she was copying down notes and didn’t appear to notice me anymore. I wondered how someone could be so nonchalant about a bleeding hand—then I noticed the discolored circle around her eye. She had applied makeup to cover it and did a fair job, which made me wonder if she had done it before. Perhaps violence wasn’t so foreign to Madelyn.
I turned back to copying notes. Principal Dawson’s words hung over my head. I was determined to graduate and not spend my summer retaking classes. My knuckles ached, but it was nothing compared to the laughter that rose in my throat when I thought of the fight. Maybe Magnum would change his gang colors to yellow, if they had gang colors. I wasn’t sure they were up to such high standards.
The intercom toned again just before the end of class. This time, three short beeps indicated that the message was for the whole school, not just our class. Ms. Narrow’s voice was slightly less peppy as she said, “If there is anyone with information pertaining to a fight and vandalism of the small auditorium, the information is vital in apprehending those responsible. Consider it your duty as Bulldogs to stand up for your school and see that the guilty party is punished for their behavior. That is all.”
I glanced at Madelyn. She was reading her history of music text and appeared not to have heard the message. I let out a breath of relief and stood when the bell rang. I tried to thank her again for the handkerchief, but she was out the door before I even had my books gathered.
CASSIDY DROPPED ME OFF at the junkyard before she returned home to help patch a hole in the barn roof that had leaked during last night’s storm. I crossed the lot to the pile of tires I had gathered from the numerous mounds around the lot and began sorting them. Jagger came out a while later with Mick at his heels. The little dog apparently accepted the fact that I was going to be around for a while because he barked twice, then sat on the porch step and glared as if to tell me that I wasn’t to go beyond that point.
“You definitely organized those tires,” Jagger said with a hint of surprise.
I looked back at the stacks arranged by size and what was left of their tread. A small glimmer of pride rose in my chest at the thought that I had exceeded his expectations.
“But I’d rather ‘ave the stacks over by the entrance so’s we can start a perimeter fence. Can’t have thieves thinkin’ they can ‘ave whatever they fancy.”
The glimmer of pride vanished. My shoulders ached from carrying the tires the day before. I smothered a groan of protest at the thought of hauling them across the lot. I pulled off a glove and rubbed the back of my neck. “Jagger, what’s with the Kawasaki bike you’ve got back there?”
“You mean the red one?” I nodded, and he smoothed his beard with one hand. “She’s a beaut, that one. Sheriff Bowley brought her in a few years back after some sort a drug bust. I tried ta keep her in good condition, but it’s been a long time since I’ve looked under the tarp.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “You know, Keldon—”
“Kelson,” I corrected.
“Right, Kelson.” He cleared his throat. “Junkyardin’ isn’t exactly a lucrative business.”
“You don’t say,” I replied. I glanced around meaningfully in the search of the desperate hordes of customers waiting to purchase abandoned car parts.
He chuckled. “That tongue a yours is gonna get you in trouble someday.”
I nodded. “I think someday is sooner rather than later.”
He grinned. “Anyway, you cheeky sot, what I was tryin’ to say was I don’t know how much my brother said you’d be paid, but I doubt I’ve enough to cover it ‘less I can interest you in a radiator for a 1986 Merkur.” He raised his eyebrows up and down enticingly.
I shook my head. “Never heard of it.”
He let out a snort. “Very rare. You don’t know what you’re missin’.”
I shrugged.
His eyes twinkled. “That leads me to the motorcycle.”
My heart slowed. “You mean . . .”
He nodded. “I can’t pay ya in cash, but I’ll give you the bike if ya keep working this ‘ard.”
The offer was very tempting. “What about the sheriff?”
“Huh?” Jagger looked confused.
“Won’t he recognize the bike?”
He shook his head. “That was years ago, and you could give et a new paint job. I’m sure I ‘ave a few cans ‘round ‘ere somewhere.” His eyes lit up. “You could organize those, too.”
I put up my hands. “All right, all right. One thing at a time. The tires are going to take me a century to move again.”
Jagger pursed his lips as if holding in a laugh. “You mean you carried them all over ‘ere?”
I scowled at him. “Was there a better way?”
He pulled a key out of his pocket and tossed it at me. “All you have ta do is ask.”
I caught it and followed him to the side of the shack where a small lean-to had been built out of two-by-four scraps. He pulled the door open to reveal a shiny green four-wheeler. At my look, he shrugged. “City fundin’.” He went back to the house with a chuckle. Mick gave me one more warning bark, then followed him inside.
I WASHED THE HANDKERCHIEF in the sink four times that night, but couldn’t quite get the faint blood stain out of the white cloth. I finally gave up and hung it up to dry. I was grateful no one at the Ashby house noticed my swollen knuckles. It wouldn’t do for them to find out I was fighting. They would probably send me back to California.
I sat at the far end of the oblong kitchen table and listened to the farm talk at dinner.
“Good job on the roof, Cass. It should hold up for a few more storms at any rate,” Uncle Rick said. Cassidy beamed at the compliment while I wondered about a place where girls were raised knowing how to repair barn leaks. Uncle Rick turned his attention to Jaren and Cole. “Irrigatin’ starts tonight. I’ll be at Ben’s, so it’s your job. His Arab mare’s ready to foal and she always has trouble.”
“I’ll take the first shift,” Jaren said.
“No, I’ve got it. You got it last time,” Cole replied. He threw a roll at his brother. It hit Jaren in the forehead, then landed in his mashed potatoes with a splat that sent gravy onto Aunt Lauren’s plate.
“Now, boys, you’ll take turns. I know nobody likes the early morning changeover, but it’s got to be done,” she said as she mopped up the gravy with her own roll and then took a bite.
“Jaren, you’ve got the one o’clock. Cole, set your alarm to four.” Uncle Rick glanced at me, then away.
“How’s your job at the junkyard?” Cassidy asked, oblivious of her father’s frustration over my apparent uselessness.
“Good,” I replied shortly. “Organizing tires.”
Uncle Rick let out a laugh that he tried to turn into a cough.
“Tires are nice,” Cassidy replied innocently. “I’m glad you’re helping Uncle Jagger out. He’s getting old.”
This time Uncle Rick choked for real. “Old?” he sputtered. “He’s only got three years on me!”
Cole laughed and Jaren cracked a smile. Aunt Lauren patted Uncle Rick’s arm. “Now. honey, she didn’t mean it like that. You know Jagger can use the help.”
“He doesn’t do anything,” Uncle Rick muttered. He shot me a look, then proceeded to smother his steak with steak sauce.
I finished eating and helped Cassidy with the dishes, then retreated to the living room. The fire danced in the fireplace, casting shadows on the opposite wall that looked like demons reveling in the glory of night. I listened to the family finish their nightly routine and turn in. There were hugs, wishes for a good night’s sleep, and laughter when someone tripped in the bathroom. A warm silence settled over the house, broken only by the quietly crackling fire and the occasional bark of a dog at the next farm.
My heart ached at all that was missing in my life. I longed for someone to care enough to wish me goodnight. It wasn’t that the Ashbys didn’t care about me; it’s just that I didn’t fit
into their routine and the simple actions that made them a family. I was an outsider, tolerated because my mom was Aunt Lauren’s sister. They weren’t cruel; it was just easier to pretend the problem didn’t exist than to address it directly. I wondered how long I had before they asked me to leave.
I TOSSED AND TURNED until midnight, then gave up trying to sleep. One could only count so many sheep or relive a fight so many times before it got old. Even the thought of Magnum painted yellow failed to chase away the melancholy that filled me. I pulled on a shirt and tried not to glance at the blank face of my cell phone on the end table. Talk about adding insult to injury.
I stormed out of the house and into the cool night. For the first time, the brush of the breeze against my face and the smell of alfalfa from miles around were reassuring in their simplicity. I took a deep breath and started walking. A few seconds later, the black-and-white dog fell in behind me. I wondered if he had trouble sleeping too.
I didn’t realize where I was headed until the house loomed out of the darkness. Three of the windows were still lit, casting the tree in dark shadows. I leaned against it and the dog settled near my feet. Madelyn’s dog barked at us for a few minutes, then eventually grew bored and gave up.
“See anything interesting?”
I jumped half a foot and hit my head on one of the branches. Madelyn let out a small laugh, then covered her mouth and watched me almost solemnly from the other side of the tree. I rubbed my head and gave her an embarrassed look. “I wasn’t trying to spy.”
“Most people stare into windows at night innocently,” she replied. “Especially after walking almost a mile to reach the aforementioned house.”
I couldn’t tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. I stuck out my hand. “Hi, I’m your creepy new neighbor.”
She laughed, then put a hand to her cheek as if it hurt.
A sudden surge of protectiveness welled up in me. I had never felt such a need to take care of someone. The feeling surprised me. Zoey was the caretaker of our family, not me. Before I knew what I was doing, I had brushed the hair from her cheek and held my palm to her soft skin. “Who hit you?” I asked quietly.
She looked as caught off guard by my actions as I felt. Her body tensed as though she didn’t know whether to run away or stay. I had the distinct impression that she was seldom touched without pain.
I dropped my hand and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
“It’s okay,” she replied almost too softly for me to hear.
“It’s not,” I said.
She laughed, a quick, light sound. “I’ll survive, Kelson.”
My heart did a funny little flip when she said my name. I didn’t know she knew it. I suddenly remembered the handkerchief and pulled it out of my pocket. “Here—I tried to clean it the best I could. It might be stained. Sorry.”
She took it with a little smile. “I’ll bleach it; no problem.” Her dog gave a bark from across the lawn.
Something dawned on me. “Hey, why didn’t my dog bark at you when you snuck up on me?”
She crouched and patted the dog’s head. “First of all, you were the one doing the sneaking, if I remember correctly.” She was right, so I didn’t argue. “Second of all, Jake knows me. We’re longtime friends.”
“So guard dogs only guard against strangers? That’s a flaw in their system.”
She shook her head, and her long brown hair tangled in a branch. “Jake’s not a guard dog. He’s a Border Collie, which is a herding dog.”
I untangled her hair. “What does he herd?”
She stood up. “Thanks. He herds cattle.”
I gave the dog a skeptical look. “He’s a tenth the size of Uncle Rick’s cows.”
“You don’t believe me?”
I shook my head mostly to give her a hard time.
She grinned and jogged across the yard.
“Where are you going?” I called, surprised.
She unchained her dog. Buck darted toward us. Just when I was convinced she had sicced him on me to show me that herding dogs really could be guard dogs, Jake ran forward and they pranced around like old friends.
“Come on,” Madelyn called.
She stood near the edge of the yard. I jogged across the grass and the dogs followed close behind. Buck licked at my hands when I stopped. I shoved them in my pockets.
Madelyn’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s wrong? Don’t like dogs?”
“I’m not exactly an animal person,” I replied uncomfortably.
“Jake doesn’t agree,” she said. She pointed to the dog that now leaned casually against my leg.
I took a step back and he stood up.
Madelyn started jogging again. “Pick up your feet,” she called over her shoulder.
I blew out a breath of frustration at her confusing actions. Buck took off after her and Jake pranced around me like he wanted to herd me to follow them. “Fine,” I told the dog. “But only because there’s nothing else to do out here.”
I ran after her, and when I caught up, I huffed, “I’m not much of a runner.”
“Good thing we’re just jogging then,” she said with a laugh.
I shook my head and she smiled. She didn’t look the least bit tired, and I was already winded. It was one thing to train for MMA. It was another to haul tires all evening, even with a four-wheeler, and then go jogging at midnight along a dirt road with a near stranger and two dogs who acted as if a nightly jaunt was the perfect activity. I decided my best defense was to keep quiet and reserve my strength for the run.
Madelyn took a trail between two fields, then dipped down a wash. We followed the dry creek bed west until the sandy ground began to show signs of moisture. Madelyn ran back up the bank and we jogged through a small stand of scruffy trees. I was extremely grateful when she slowed to a walk. I tried not to gasp for air, but my lungs were screaming and my ribs were upset at the few stray punches I had taken in the auditorium.
The dogs stayed behind us as if they had traveled this path often and knew what was expected of them. “Hold on,” Madelyn said. She peered through the last stand of short, twisted trees, then a smile spread across her face.
It wasn’t the small, practiced smile she used at school or when we talked outside her house. This smile made her face glow like the light that shone down from the stars and the sliver of the moon that lit our path. It made the gold of her hazel eyes alive and bright and softened the curve of her jaw, which I realized she usually clenched—something I could relate to. With the smile on her face, her hair free and catching in the night breeze, and the gentle moonlight playing along her skin, I realized she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
“Do you want to see them?” she asked as if she had said the question already and was repeating herself.
I blinked and tried to bring some sanity back to my thoughts. “Uh, yes. Definitely.”
She backed away from the bushes and I took her place. I was nervous about what I would find. I was sure she had explained it, but in my sudden lapse of focus, I had missed it. I peered cautiously through the branches.
A pond sat in a wide dip beneath the trees. Larger branches reached over the water, casting shadows that swayed among the moonlight. White forms drifted gracefully across the surface. I realized they were geese, pure white geese with black beaks and long, slender necks. Hundreds of them dotted the water.
“What are they doing here?” I asked quietly.
She peered through the branches close enough to me that I could smell the vanilla scent of her hair. “They’re snow geese. They land here each year during their migration. No one knows about this place, as far as I’m aware.”
The thought was a sobering one. This girl beside me had a secret place, and she showed it to me for no reason I could fathom. From what I had seen, I suspected she didn’t let many people close to her. The hauntingly beautiful scene before me was no doubt the destination of her night runs.
I s
tepped back. “Thanks for showing me.”
A wistful expression filled the depths of her eyes when she looked back toward the geese. “They fly almost three thousand miles from their home. Can you imagine leaving everything you know like that?”
I nodded, and a light of understanding crossed her face. “Why did you leave California?” she asked.
I held my breath for a moment. I wanted to tell her. I really did. I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words. I dropped my gaze.
She set a hand on my arm. The touch of her fingers on my bare skin made it tingle. “It’s okay, Kelson. You don’t have to tell me,” she said gently.
I blinked and let the breath out through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry,” I said, unable to meet her gaze.
Her hand slipped from my arm. My skin felt warm where she had touched it. “I understand about family secrets. Yours are safe with me.”
I nodded. She leaned against me. I lifted my arm and she ducked under it. It felt so natural to stand there watching the geese with Madelyn beside me. I hadn’t been much for dating back in California. We hung out in groups, but seldom broke off into couples. It was strange to find someone comfortable enough with me that we could stand and watch birds glide across the water and not have to say anything.
The first blush of orange touched the horizon when we made our way back to Madelyn’s house. She waved a silent goodbye and I walked back home with Jake at my side. Something had changed inside me. I didn’t know what it was, but after the events of the past few days, I didn’t feel the same. When I stepped inside the Ashby house and saw no calls or messages on my phone, it didn’t bother me quite as much as it had the night before. I settled down on the cot and fell into the first restful sleep I’d had in a month.
I MILKED BARBECUE SUCCESSFULLY the next morning. I made sure my hands were warm, took care not to sneeze, and kept a hand on the cow’s side when I sat down so she knew I was there. Cassidy cheered when I sat back and hefted the bucket of milk. It seemed a small thing compared to the amount of frustration over the last three days, but even Uncle Rick gave a nod of approval. We ate cereal for breakfast with the milk, and I might have been biased, but it was the best cereal I had ever eaten.
