by Cassie Mae
Luke leans against the wooden post separating the stalls from the rest of the barn. He nods to my pocket. You had a message. I cleared it to get the playlist.
“Oh, thanks.” I sign after I say the words, and he laughs at me. I do that all the time, and he teases me that I don’t need to repeat myself.
I give my hands a quick wash before pulling my phone out again. Horses are unbelievably dirty, even when they are in the barn and they’ve just been pampered.
A rollercoaster dives into my stomach. Tanner’s name is at the top of my message list. Hopefully there wasn’t any information leaked that Luke saw. Not that he’d tell Candace about my late night illegal activity, but he probably would ask me about it.
I offer Luke an awkward grin and turn to read the message in private.
Hey, what you up to after work?
A giant sigh of relief escapes me, along with a stupid laugh. All that worry for nothing.
Gotta register Demi for middle school. Blargh.
The dots pop up immediately.
After that?
Dinner with my folks. Guess Dad has some big thing to talk about. Such joy is my life :P
There isn’t an immediate response, so after a few seconds, I message him again.
I’m still planning on later, though. If that’s okay…
Maybe he’s having second thoughts about sneaking me in after hours. I suppose I could try to get to Troublemakers before they close, but I won’t get much practice time, and with the competition looming, I need all I can get.
Yep! Planning on it.
I know I should feel terrible about putting him in this position, but I can’t help the grin that spreads across my lips.
Sweet. See ya then.
I tuck my phone away and turn, jumping at how close Luke is. How does he not make a frickin’ sound when he moves around? I’m like a walking hurricane around the barn.
Is Tanner your boyfriend? he signs.
I jerk back. I must’ve misread that. “Sorry… what?”
He smirks, exposing his bright white teeth. He signs much slower. Is Tanner your boyfriend?
Okay, wow. I did understand right. “No.” I add a laugh for good measure. “I’m too old for him.”
I maneuver around Luke, but he gently taps my elbow, letting me know he’s not done with the third degree.
He’s too young for you or you’re too old for him?
“Isn’t that the same thing?” I ask, forgetting to sign, but Luke gets it.
No. He holds up a finger and starts tapping against his phone. I wait patiently—sort of—for what he wants to say. Jitters run up and down my arms, and I furiously rub them out. I don’t know why this conversation has me all up in knots.
He flips his phone toward me, and I read deliberately slowly.
You said you’re too old for him, implying that he wouldn’t desire you because of your age, not that you don’t desire him because of his. And I’m no romance connoisseur, but even I can tell he’s interested in you.
I blink a few times. Make sure my heart’s still beating. Tanner interested in me? An unexpected laugh bursts from my lips, and I thrust Luke’s phone out to him. “Because of a text, Luke? Really?”
And the party, he signs. He seemed… nervous. Until you two sneaked away.
I shake my head. There’s no way. If Luke knew what Tanner was helping me out with, he wouldn’t be bringing this up. He’d know it was all about my boarding competition.
Besides, Tanner had a thing for Candace way back when. I wonder if the engagement is getting to him, too. Hmm… maybe I’ll ask.
I wave Luke off and head toward the chicken feed. I have many more things on my checklist before taking Dem to the middle school, and I don’t need all these super fun talks about whether or not Tanner likes me, likes me. I grew out of those conversations long before now.
Well, come to think of it, I’ve never had this conversation before now. My romantic history is sad and empty compared to almost everyone my age. My focus has always been on my family, paying bills, getting out of my house, finding things my own way… and boarding. Of course boarding. Occasionally Star Wars.
I stomp outside and shield my eyes from the afternoon sun. Gosh, why am I so defensive over this? What if Tanner likes me in that way? Would that be completely out of the realm of possibility?
I toss out the feed, letting the chickens come to me. I mean, he is risking his job just so I can skateboard. He always has a giant grin on when I walk through the doors of the Wheel Zone. He fills my water when I’m running low, texts me when there’s something wrong, knows me a lot better than anyone else.
And come to think of it, there is a hint of nerves that run through his actions when I’m around. The jerk of his fingers when they get too close to mine, the shallow breath when I nudge him, the heat rising through his neck when I rest my chin on his shoulder.
Holy hell… Tanner could totally have a thing for me.
A chicken screeches near my leg, and I jump three feet into the air. My heart patters against my chest, and I laugh away my surprise. I dump the rest of the feed and let the chickens take advantage of my distracted mind.
If Tanner does like me, I suppose I have to figure out how I feel about him.
My parents live on the outskirts of town, in the rundown parts on the complete opposite end of Sherman Farms. Their house is a one-level three bedroom, with a small living roomI and kitchen. The dining area has been used a handful of times, and none of them in the past decade. So when I walk into my parents’ house and the table is set up like the king and queen are coming, I step back into Pete purely out of shock.
“Hey kids,” Mom says, a nervous smile playing at the corners of her lips. She wipes her hands down a dirty and worn apron and rushes to the front door where Pete, Dem, and I stand frozen.
Dem looks up at me, terror in her eyes. Gosh, she’s probably confused as hell to see the place how it is. Not a speck of dust, not a piece of clothing or garbage on the floor, candles lit to give our once home an apple cinnamon scent.
Pete nudges us inside, using his height and build to his advantage.
“Hey,” he says, his demeanor much calmer. “Where’s Dad?”
“In our room. He’ll be out in a second.” Mom gestures to the table. “Sit. I’m just pulling out the enchiladas.”
Dem’s favorite. She tenses next to me, and I brush a hand through her ponytail. She bats me away, and I figure I’ll have to find a different way to comfort her.
I slump into the seat next to the window, across from Pete and next to Demi. Dad’s most likely trying to wash away the effects of whatever drug he’s hooked on while Mom continues to live in denial.
I eye Pete, his elbows on the table, half his face covered by his hands. He peeks out to offer up an encouraging smile, and I try to relax. He knows I hate it here. He knows because he feels it too… that pending doom of “what are they going to ask for now?” Mom and Dad never invite us over for a simple how do you do. It’s more of a what can you do for me.
A sick taste jumps up to the back of my throat. Maybe they found out Pete is marrying into money. If they ask Candace for anything, I will cut them off once and for all.
Demi keeps her head down, her finger tracing the pattern on our mom’s plate. Her eyes dart to mine then quickly run away when she sees me looking. I’d take her hand, pat her knee… do something if I was sure she wanted that, but with how moody she’s been, I have no idea how to respond.
The door down the hall creeks open just as Mom puts the hot pan of enchiladas in the center of the table. Dad’s heavy footstep thud until his tall, lean form fills the arch leading into the dining area. He used to be nearly two-hundred-and-fifty pounds before his accident. Now I’m afraid to even take a guess. I probably have more muscle, and Pete definitely has more fat, and Pete isn’t that large.
“Hi kids,” he says, his voice crackled and aged. It’s so unfamiliar that I have to adjust to the sound.
&nbs
p; Pete says, “Hey.” His voice more chipper than usual for Mom and Dad’s house. Dem squeaks out a “hi” and I simply wave.
He takes his spot at the head, even though he looks out of place there. Dad’s never been the head of the house. More like the moocher.
Mom sits next to Pete, setting down a bowl of corn and a bowl of tostada chips. She grins wide and takes a deep breath. “Dig in.”
Dad reaches over right away, but it takes me a minute to pluck my arm up and serve myself something. When I see Demi not moving at all, I get her something of each and pray she doesn’t bite my head off later for playing mommy.
Pete, however, doesn’t touch a thing, bringing his hands down and looking directly at my dad. “We should probably just dive in, yeah?”
Dad chuckles, pouring some water into his glass. “Go for it, PJ.”
What the hell? My eyes narrow at my brother, and he turns to address the entire table. He’s behind this little meeting?
“Well, you all know I’m getting married in February.”
Mom smiles and pats his knee, pride oozing out from her in waves. The cynic in me whispers that she’s only proud because he’s marrying a millionaire, but I try to bat her away.
“Candace and I are talking about where we’re going to live.”
I nod, straightening in my seat. Okay, we’re going to talk about the game plan. After boarding, I feel good about what I have in store. I’m going to get this routine down. I will get this sponsorship. With Dem’s new schedule for middle school, she can walk to the ranch and do her homework in the farm offices while I’m still working there. When boarding becomes fulltime, I’ll be able to afford a sitter for when I’m gone or, if she wants, she can go on the road with me.
I mapped out all our finances, and I can make it work without Pete’s help. I know he’d help if I asked, but I feel like I can’t do that to him after he moves out and starts his own family with Candace.
Dad straightens too, and I watch him and Pete share a look before Pete’s eyes skate past me and land on Dem. A wave of confusion and fear wash over me, and I’m unsure where it comes from. Something feels off, though.
“Dem, I would offer for you to come with us…”
Demi’s head shoots up, and her fork clatters against the plate. “No,” she sputters. Relief flows through me. I can’t lose both of them. I didn’t even think Pete would offer. “No…” she says softer. “You guys are going to be married and… sharing a room.” She wrinkles her nose, and I let out a laugh that’s much louder than I would’ve given the circumstances. I’m just so relieved she’s staying with me.
Pete quirks a grin and runs a hand over his jaw. “Okay… that option’s out.” His eyes meet mine, and an apology rests there in his light brown irises. My brows pull together, and that same panic I thought I’d gotten rid of comes back with a vengeance.
“Next option… Well, that’s where you guys come in.”
Pete avoids my eyes and looks directly at Mom and Dad. I jerk back, my heart pounding underneath my Chewbacca t-shirt. My fingers curl around my fork, my knuckles turning a scary shade of white.
Dad cautiously looks toward Demi. She’s still eyeing her plate, the tines on her fork creating patterns in the green enchilada sauce. “Of course, we’d love for Demi to move back home.”
My heart stops dead in my chest, my breath wheezing out of me. “W-what?” I manage to croak out. Pete puts his hand up subtly, for only me to catch.
“I’m only saying it’s an option if you make it a safe place for her.”
Dad nods, and Mom takes a large gulp of her water. I swivel my eyes around the table to each of my family members. This is some kind of joke, right? But Dad’s considering, Pete is calm and cool in his betrayal toward me, Mom’s eating and ignoring, just like she always does, and Dem…
I thought Dem would snap a no out right away. I thought she’d put a halt in that option, too. But she stays eerily quiet, biting at her bottom lip, refusing to look my way.
My stomach starts to digest everything at this table. Not the meal, since I haven’t put a bite inside me. But the conversation, the idea of Demi moving back to Mom and Dad’s, Pete moving out, and me living by myself for the first time in my life.
And I don’t want that. I want them under my roof, safe and cared for and loved. I want to wrap them both in my arms and refuse to let them go. And I want them to trust that I can provide for them.
Pete’s rambling off the list of things Dad has to prove before Demi even considers moving back. I let the conversation roll around in my head and try to picture the life I’d have without Demi. Every scenario leaves me empty and heartbroken.
“Dem,” I say, interrupting Pete and Dad. I clear my throat, my voice raspy from being caged for so long. “Is that what you want? To move back here?”
It couldn’t possibly. She’s happy with Pete and me, isn’t she?
Dem finally looks up, but she still doesn’t meet my eyes. No, her gaze is on Pete, and a block of dread plummets to my belly.
“Yes.”
Today is the day.
Really, it is.
I’m gonna tell Brink that I love her.
I slam the overhead lights on in the Wheel Zone, and they buzz like they’re tired and want to go back to bed. Candace did her rounds tonight, checking in on me at ten o’clock when she saw the lights on still. I made a show of switching them all off and pretending to leave, then I ducked inside when she went to close out the manager’s office.
The lights take about ten minutes to get to their normal brightness, so I fidget, tilting my weight from one foot to the other while I wait for the knock on the back door.
I had a plan earlier, and I realized that when I have a plan, it all goes to shit. I put some feelers out there in the form of a super vague text when I really just wanted to ask outright, hey, you wanna go on a date later? I had the brilliant idea to take her to Riverside Park, which is skater’s heaven and only open for a couple more weeks. It’s a few hours’ drive, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. I know I don’t.
Instead, she unknowingly rejected my non-existent offer, and I picked up a shift so I could see her tonight. Josh was more than happy to trade.
My phone pings, and a nervous-slash-excited leap goes through my gut at her name on my screen. She’s here, and now I get about two hours of opportunity to blurt it out.
Should I do it right away or wait? Hmm… If she says no, that’ll be a nice way to torture myself. But if I sit with it, that’s another great method of torture. If she says yes, I’ll be completely useless.
Better stick with the torture I’m familiar with.
I press the door open, the clang of the handle echoing in the night. Mad is a freaking rock star, her board settled in the crook of her arm, her helmet hung haphazardly on her mess of hair. But her eyes are puffy… again. She offers me a forced grin, and my smile fades immediately.
“You okay?”
Her forced grin drops, and she shakes her head. “Not really.”
If I was a brave enough person, I’d reach out and hold her. I used to be that guy, but that guy died a while ago. Now I’m stuck with the twitch of my fingers, wanting to reach out to hers.
I take a deep breath and scratch at the back of my head where my baseball cap meets my hair. “You want to board it out or talk it out? I’m up for either.”
A laugh falls from her lips, so softly it’s a whisper in the wind. Her red, puffy eyes lift to meet mine. “Board. Then talk.”
I give her a solitary nod. “Sounds good to me.” I step back and let her inside, the lights still struggling to turn onto full power, but that doesn’t stop her from tightening her helmet strap and rolling her board back and forth with her foot against the smooth floor.
“I brought my GoPro,” she says, diving into the pocket of her ragged jean shorts. The fringe from her light blue tank top hangs over her bare stomach, and I catch the faintest glimpse of her very toned muscles. “Can you help hook it to m
y helmet?”
“Uh… maybe.” I laugh at myself, eyeing the camera. I film a lot, but I’ve never been so lucky to have one of these. “Does it just hook on, or…?”
“Yeah, I’ve got the mount.” She hands it to me. “I realize I should’ve done this before, but I really didn’t have time.”
“Well, I don’t exactly want to mess this up, so I’m going to trusty YouTube.” I pull my phone out and look up how to hook a GoPro up to a helmet. Seems easy enough. Clean surface, place where you want the best shot of the board… After watching, I pull back the protective paper from the sticky side of the mount and ask, “Ready?”
She nods. “Get it like… right here.” She jabs a finger to the tip of her forehead, a couple inches down from her crown. Following the twelve-year-old YouTuber’s instructions, I push the mount down with as much pressure as I can to get air bubbles out.
“Um… ow.” Mad laughs, jerking with the movement.
“Probably should’ve done this with the helmet off you,” I say.
“We are so bright.”
I click the extender in and screw the camera on. “There. I think.”
“Did you turn the camera on?”
“Uh…”
“I think there’s a button or something.”
I know where the button is; I’m just now realizing how close we are—without being too close—and enjoying every second of it. There’s a button on the top underneath the plastic protector, so I push too hard—again—and she jerks around with a laugh.
“At least we won’t be doing this every time,” I assure her. “Looks like once the mount’s on the helmet, it’s on for good.”
“Which is why it’s been a year and a half since Candace bought it for me, and it still looks brand new.”
“You never were a fan of the fancy stuff.” I nod to her board and adjust the camera. “This ship’s garbage.”
“Don’t you speak ill of the Millennium Falcon.” She playfully pushes her knuckles against my stomach, but I can hear the hint of appreciation that I know enough Star Wars to quote it to her.
