by Sally Henson
Stop it. I just told myself this will not lead me anywhere I need to go.
“Let's go.” Somehow, I manage to walk away. I hope no one saw us—that's all I need. More pictures floating around. Stacey would absolutely ruin everything if she knew anything about Lane and me. With a rap on the door, Tobi answers, a weird look on her face.
“Hey, you're finally here.” Her eyes move past me as Lane walks up. She has a big grin and knowing eyes. “Lane, you look—sprightly tonight.”
“Sprightly—what’ve you been reading?” I make fun, but her eyes never leave Lane as she steps back to let us in.
“What took you two so long?” I didn't answer. Lane didn't answer. She shuts the door and looks back and forth between us. She told me Lane likes me more than a friend, and she hasn't said a word about it since. I’m guessing she's contemplating whether to do so now. Thankfully, she drops the inquisition before it gets verbal. I have a feeling it’ll resurface at another time and place. “The Cattle Barron wants to see you before we take off.”
“Come in here, kids,” Mr. Bridlow bellows from the breakfast table. He stands as we enter. Lane steps closer and shakes his hand.
“Mr. Bridlow.”
He grabs Lane's hand and places his left hand on Lane's shoulder, squeezing to demand Lane’s full attention. “Lane, I'm glad to see you before you head off to school. You're a good and kind young man. Don't let those goofy professors turn you into some tree huggin', gun bannin', atheist pantywaist.” He slaps Lane on the back, like an exclamation mark. Mr. Bridlow has a way with words. There's usually some comedic relief in them, whether he means for there to be or not. Except when he's mad. Trust me, that is not pleasant. “Regan, get over here and give me a hug.”
I smile and make a beeline. He always hugs me when he sees me. He may be loud and boisterous, but he's kind and generous and loves people.
“Hi, Jim, how are you?” He insists I call him Jim, not Mr. Bridlow.
“Fat and sassy.” He's a big burly guy, super strong from working on his farm. He rattles on about the state fair and how Tobi's going to win Grand Champion.
Jim can talk for-ev-er. “Dad, it's getting late. I'm going to be spending all week with you and I won't see these two that whole time. We're going out.” She kisses him on the cheek.
“All right, then. You three have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.” He lets out a deep thunderous laugh.
“Where's your mom?” I didn't see Mrs. Bridlow anywhere.
“Shopping.” Mrs. Bridlow is always busy. It's no wonder Tobi's so tireless, she takes after her mom in that department.
She slams the door and dashes toward the garage. Lane jogs after her, and I trot behind them. They come out with two duffel bags. They're both big, but one's huge.
“What's all this?” Lane's reluctance to explain what's happening at sundown pops into my mind.
Tobi nods her head to the truck. “Get in the truck, Regan.” They put everything in the bed of the truck and rush in the cab, pushing me in the middle.
“You're a little pushy tonight.” I scowl and look back and forth between the two of them. “What's going on?”
Tobi smiles and raises her brows. “It's a surprise.”
I like surprises. I just don't like to wait for them to happen. I'm placid, for the time being, between my two best friends—waiting for one of them to unveil the surprise.
Lane pulls on the road heading toward town. Tobi leans forward and looks at Lane. “Now?”
He nods but keeps his eyes straight ahead on the road. “Now.”
She gets that weird look on her face again and her eyes look everywhere else but at me. “What?” I'm growing impatient.
She looks at me. “After practice this morning, I went to get Haylee from her mom's classroom.” She looks out the windshield.
“And ...” My brows lift as I coax her to keep going.
“And, she wasn't in there, so I decided to go to the cafeteria to check for her. She wasn't there either. But the PTO or something was meeting in there.” Tobi frowns and fidgets. She looks down again.
“So ...” I shrug my shoulders, my brow still raised waiting.
“So, they were talking about you.”
The air deflates from my lungs. “Me?” My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. You'd think I'd be used to this by now, but it's still frustrating. Gossip—the intentional mental and emotional destruction of another through words. It hurts to know others are gossiping about me. Especially adults. Especially when I go out of my way to keep from speaking or listening to gossip. And this is how I get repaid.
“You know how Wednesday night at youth group we all said what we thought our future looked like?”
I close my eyes and rest my head on the back of the seat. I know what comes next. “Yeah ...”
“They pretty much called you a dreamer and said you better get your head out of the clouds or you'll end up a nothing, like your parents.”
I drop my head. My ribs squeeze making every rise and fall of my chest painful. “Like my parents, huh?” Not just me this time but my parents, too.
Tobi leans her head on my shoulder. “I'm sorry, Regan, but I know you’d want me to tell you, so ...”
“No, I do. It's just—why can't these people mind their own business?” I sit up. The corners of my mouth draw down. “They sit around and gossip about my plans for my life when they should be worrying about their own kids out boozin' it up and doing drugs. What kind of future do they have in store for them? The kids probably turn to alcohol and drugs to numb the pain from their parents' killing their dreams.” I detest this stupid town. I press my palms to my temples to keep my head from exploding. “So, once they've killed their kids' dreams, it's time to move on to someone else, to me.” Those no-good, lousy so-called concerned parents of other children! The tightness gets worse.
“One more tidbit. Stacey's mom was in the middle of it, along with Mrs. Bates.”
I look straight ahead and feel the knives stab through my back. “What a surprise.”
Lane reaches over to touch me, but I erupt. “Don't.” It comes out cold, steely, mean.
“Really, Regan, it's—”
I cut Tobi off. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“It's just the Fani—”
I shout and cut her off again. “I don't want to hear it.” After a couple minutes of silence, I make a choice. “I think it would be best if you took me home or dropped me off at the diner, and I'll have Mom come pick me up.”
Neither of them says anything. Just up the hill, Lane makes a sharp turn toward Lake Nellie. He continues to follow the road around the back to the parking lot, neither of them saying a word.
“This isn't the way to my house or the diner.” My voice is void of emotion, but my body hurts. Every limb and appendage feels so heavy I can't even lift them.
The truck rolls to a stop. Lane puts it in park. I sit, unmoving, mute. Maybe I am nothing but a dreamer. Maybe the only science I'll have in my life is the moon and stars. It's finally getting dark out and the moon set earlier today in the afternoon. I wonder if that could be enough. I drop my head and look at the darkness surrounding my hands in my lap. How long are they going to sit here?
“Tobi, would you excuse us for a few minutes.” Lane's voice is calm as he turns to look at her.
“No. I don't think I will.” She turns on me, eyes flickering with anger. “You listen to me, Regan.” She’s using her “I mean business” voice. “We have a great night planned, including revenge of sorts for the Faniger clones. I'm going to be gone for a week, and Lane's leaving in two. We're spending tonight together.” She grabs me by the shoulders, forcing me to look at her. “You're going to suck it up and have a good time. You’re not going to let these people break your spirit or ruin our night. Do you understand me?”
“Well said, Tobi.” Lane compliments her rant as he turns the key to the ignition.
We're back on the main road. I have no idea where we
're going. Tobi's probably right. And I don't want to ruin their night by my sulking. If I go home, I’ll have to explain the gossip. Dad wouldn't agree with their gossip, but the substance of me having my head in the clouds might garner his support.
“Expound upon this revenge.” I try to sound refreshed or something other than a tantrum-throwing toddler or a “my life is over” drama-queen. I don’t think it works.
Lane makes a right on Old Golf Course Road. I never come out here so I'm not sure of our destination, but I think it may have something to do with Stacey.
“You're going to love this one, won't she, Lane?” He doesn't say anything, not that she's expecting a reply. “Those duffel bags are loaded with toilet paper. And I happen to know that the Fanigers go out every Friday night.”
Lane pulls into a hidden field road. It's heavily overgrown with weeds and grass. The tree limbs scrape the top and sides of Lane’s truck when we pull through, so the truck's basically hidden from the road.
“Her house is just up the road.” Tobi's giddy with anticipation.
This might be an excellent idea. No real damage, only toilet paper that will eventually disintegrate. We can make Stacey's life a little miserable with a yard full of bathroom tissue. The tightness around my ribs release and the stabbing pain is gone. “This is an excellent alternative—I approve.” All three of us get out of the truck quietly, speaking in whispers. Tobi goes to find a place to pee before we sneak in. I take the opportunity to apologize, again, to Lane.
Though it's dark, I can tell he's leaning against the rear fender on the driver side facing away. He's giving Tobi as much privacy as possible. “Lane,” I whisper and amble to him from the tailgate. “Look, I was a real jerk earlier.”
“Yeah, you were a jerk.”
“I know you were just trying to be there for me, but ... I'm going crazy with all the push back. The pressure is—getting worse.” I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. “I took it out on you.” I lean against the truck beside him, my arm against the heat of his arm. “I'm sorry.”
“That's twice in one day.” He turns toward me and rests his arm on the bed rail. It's too dark to make out his face. Leaning close to my ear, he uses the same voice I tried to imitate earlier. “How do you plan to make amends?”
Goosebumps trail from the spot his warm breath hit my skin. A shiver shoots down the right side of my body. “Mm, I'm not sure.” I'm glad he never did this before we were more than friends or whatever we are. I couldn't have handled it.
“I have a suggestion. If you can't come up with something suitable.”
I cross my arms in front of me and frown. “All right, all—”
Lane covers my mouth with his hand. “Shh! Do you want Tobi to hear us?” I shake my head. He keeps his hand there. “What's your penance?”
I shrug my shoulders. I'm half mad at him for covering my mouth with his hand and half elated he's this close to me. We hear the rustling of someone walking in the weeds.
He whispers low, tickling my senses. “Since you can't seem to decide, I'll decide for you.” He lets go and reaches for the duffel bag.
“Come on.” Lane starts to jog down the road with the strap of the duffel bag across his body. Tobi and I follow with the other bag, giggling all the way.
“You could fit a corpse in that bag.” We observe the size of that thing on Lane's back, with the light of Tobi's flashlight spraying on it.
She snickers. “I know, right?”
The deed is thoroughly complete and Lane drives straight north as quickly as possible, avoiding town. We're still laughing. “It looked like a mummy explosion when we got through with that place.” Lane gloats over how much mummy vomit was displayed. “How many rolls did you have packed in there, Tobi?” The light from the dash is bright enough to see his beautiful smile. My entire body sighs.
“A hundred and forty-four! Can you believe we used that many rolls on her house? My adrenaline was pumping the whole time.” This was a good night, after all. She's so much fun, a light for me.
“We used five around the two bushes blocking the front entrance.” I share in some of the play-by-play of the total wrapping we gave the Fanigers. I'm floating on air right now.
“She'll have no idea who did it.” Tobi's eyes sparkle from the high we're all feeling. “We can't tell anyone. Not even Haylee or Cameron, or it might get leaked.”
“Deal.” I couldn't agree more.
Lane laughs. “Deal.”
We're close to my house by the time I start paying attention to where we were going. I drop my shoulders and look out the windshield. “Are you taking me home?” We still have a couple hours before curfew is up.
“No, this is our other surprise,” Tobi sings and bounces in her seat.
“Why do you guys get to surprise me? You're the ones getting ready to leave. I should be surprising you.”
“I'm just leaving for a week. The TP'n was a last-minute decision. You'll never guess what we're doing now, so don't even try.” We pull into the old stone quarry.
“There shouldn't be anyone fishing tonight. I checked the sign earlier.” Lane knows all about fishing and the phases of the moon. Catching fish is a bonus to me; the relaxation of being by the water is what I like the most.
I'm getting anxious and fidgety, wanting to know what's coming next. Lane drives to one of the fishing ponds on the other side of the cliffs and parks. I don't have a clue what we're going to be doing here and I can feel my face scrunching up. The back side of this pond butts up against a steep hill of earth and trees. The pond isn’t that big but it's deep like the others. When the rock quarry was still in operation, they placed huge rocks along the side of the pond opposite the hill. I guess it's to keep someone from driving into it. On a dark night like tonight, that could easily be done if you didn't know the terrain. We get out of the cab. It's cooler tonight, not much humidity. It makes the air seem cleaner, just a tinge of dust from us driving and stirring it up in the air. The sounds of summer night play—crickets, tree frogs, bullfrogs accompanied by the oil pump jack playing percussion, with a winding noise and then a squeak. They keep perfect time.
“Soooo …” My shoulders are raised high by my ears, waiting for them to reveal what we’re doing here.
Tobi pulls out the flashlight and puts her arm around Lane and he puts his arm around me. “The three amigos.” I hear the smile in Tobi's voice.
Sarcastically Lane mutters, “That's about right.” He pulls us both into him, and we bounce off, stumbling a step.
“What are we doing here?” Impatience is taking its toll on me.
“This way.” Tobi and Lane step forward pulling me along. We're walking away from the pond and the truck. It's dark except for the stars in the night sky and the flashlight.
“There's nothing out here. And I'm not going swimming when it's this dark out.” Lane pulls me a little closer and chuckles under his breath.
“We're almost there,” Tobi assures me. “We're adding to your list of somewhat risky behaviors.”
I swallow and shake my head, not sure what she's talking about, and frankly a little nervous about it. Sometimes Tobi is a little too crazy for me. She shines her flashlight up and down before us.
“Remember?”
I laugh at the sight. “Are you serious?”
“Oh, yeah, baby.” Tobi is full of confidence. Maybe if I wrangled cows all the time, I might be full of confidence, too.
I shake my head. “I don't know about this.”
Lane rubs his hand up and down my arm for support.
“This is more than risky. It's stupid. What if I get my foot caught, or my hand cut off, or grease all over me?”
“Come on, I'll go with you.” Lane takes my hand and drags me to the ladder.
“It's too dark. I can't see. I'm going to fall off or something.” My legs feel weak. A tiny shot of fear shoots through me from my head to my toes, and suddenly I need to pee.
“You'll be fine.” Tobi's encouragin
g words don't work.
“Don't you dare take any pictures. My parents will kill me!” My voice is a little shaky, too, like the rest of my body.
Lane stands in front of me, inches from my face and squeezes my shoulders. “I'll start up, and you follow me. Okay?” I nod my head. “Shine the light up here.” Tobi moves the focus of the light for us to see.
“Aaaaaa ... this is crazy!” All right, I'm doing this. I'm already out of breath and my heart is racing, but I'm doing this. It can't be that hard. It's just a ladder. I've climbed hundreds of ladders in my lifetime—though none of them has led up to a moving machine that won't give if I slip and get a body part stuck somewhere it shouldn't be, between the gears of this oil pump jack.
Lane is already at the top and swings his right leg over the frame. “Give me your hand.” I climb a few more rungs and reach up my right arm. My trembling hands reach his, and I calm down. He looks at my face with a small smile. “Okay. Do you want to sit in front of me or behind?”
“Mmm …” I contemplate which one is safer—if that's even a possibility here. “Behind.” Adrenaline-laced with fear and excitement course through my body at what I'm about to do.
“Wrap your arms around me first.” I do. His body is moving back and forth. “Now hold on while you swing your leg over. Ready?” I nod without words, my head against his side. “One. Two. Three. Go.” He times it where the beam is angled back. I swing my right leg over the top of the beam, sitting behind him, holding on for dear life. “You okay?” He has one hand firmly holding onto my arms around his middle and the other holding on to the lip of the thick, cold steel. He switches quickly, grasping behind my right knee, steadying me and sliding me closer so there’s no space between us, then switches his hands back to my arms and the beam.
“Other than my heart about to jump out of my chest?” I did it. A whoosh of air comes out in my effort to calm down. Face your fears, Regan. I try to force my heart rate down with my breathing. That's better. Now, feel the rhythm of the movement. Down, two, three, four, five, six. Up, two, three, four, five, six. Repeat. Slow and steady. My grip on Lane is tight, and I shake a little when the beam angles down and up. I'm fine at zero degrees. A half-giggle-half-cry rattles in my throat.
