I turned it to a pop station which made Grady grimace. I smiled and changed it to my favorite Christian rock station.
“You’re getting warmer,” he said, darting a look at me.
I paused on polka music and he hissed and said, “Whoa, no wonder you were Aunt Mildred’s favorite. You were probably the only person on the planet who’d listen to ‘Roll Out the Barrel’ with her.”
“Just checking.” I moved it to my pre-set classic rock station. “Here you go.”
“Perfect. I was beginning to worry about you, but you’ve redeemed yourself with Van Halen.” Grady drove us to the fairgrounds at the edge of town where the large electric sign in front of the massive building announced a “Mid-winter Roping Cattle Auction.”
We followed the crowd inside where Grady pushed an auction paddle into my hand as we sat in the stands with the local ranchers. The auctioneer rambled off numbers quicker than I could hear them.
“Awww, look at the baby cow,” I said, gesturing down to one of the pens.
“Careful.” Grady grabbed my hand, pulling it down onto his knee. “Wave that paddle around and you’ll be buying that cute baby cow.”
“Aunt Mildred would have approved. She used to drink a glass of milk every night before bed.” I scratched my head, forgetting about the paddle in my hand until the auctioneer pointed at me while he rattled off more numbers. “Uh oh.”
He rattled through more numbers and pointed at two more people.
“You are so lucky someone bid after you.” Grady busted a gut laughing, but he took the paddle quickly from my hand and tossed it onto the bench. “Time to leave before you really do buy yourself a cow. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”
“Grady Burnett worried about being late? It’s like I don’t know you.”
“Pay attention then. Next up is lunch.” He drove back into town, pulling into the near-empty parking lot of Burger Barn. We were early for the lunch rush, so it was pretty empty inside. “Almost Ches Quis.”
“Uncanny. I can’t decide if it’s the sawdust on the floor or the fake barbed wire fencing that gives it that French flair.” I smiled when Grady looked around, as if seriously considering the question.
“I think it’s the smell of French fries. Get it?” He nudged my ribs with his elbow.
“Oh, I see what you did there,” I said, giving him a nudge back.
Someone cleared their throat, and I turned to find the guy behind the counter waiting for us, looking a little impatient and a lot bored.
“Welcome to Burger Barn.” His monotone voice flatlined with apathy. He barely moved his lips, let alone cracked a welcoming smile. “What do you want?”
“Have you heard of the Sausage King of Chicago?” Grady asked.
“No.”
“Well, this girl here”—he pointed at me with pride —“is the Kolache Queen of Devil’s Lap and we’d like your best table.”
“Whatever, dude. Just place your order and sit wherever you want.”
We ordered burgers, tater tots, and milk shakes and I led us to a booth next to the window to sit in the streaming sunshine.
“Rookie move, Lace,” Grady said. “Pro tip: try not to stick out when you’re skipping.”
“I guess you’re an expert.”
“Used to be. I actually haven’t skipped since the tenth grade.” He took a bite of his burger and took his time chewing before shrugging. “Sure, I’m often late for first period and sometimes leave class to grab a nap, but I don’t skip. Not until today.”
“Is ‘I skipped class for you’ supposed to be romantic?”
“Romantic?” His hot green gaze held mine, sending my pulse fluttering and heat rushing into my cheeks. “Is that what you want from me, Lacey? Romance?”
“Oh! Um, no. I didn’t mean…” Yes, you did. “Romance?”
“Because, I’d be okay with that.” Grady’s eyes scanned mine, hot and serious. And then his lips quirked into a smile. “More than okay.”
Me and Grady? I was feeling pretty okay with it myself.
18
The Kolache Queen @ Bowl-O-Rama
Grady
Me and Lacey Jane? I hadn’t been able to get that kiss out of my mind. And then there was the fact that whenever I was around Lacey, she made me smile.
But she didn’t respond. She just bit her lip while her fingers ripped apart a tater tot. And Burger Barn was famous for their tater tots.
“Whoa. Look at the time.” I wiped my mouth and hands on my napkin and gathered up our trash. “It’s time to go watch a ball game, sort of.”
Our next stop was at Bowl-O-Rama.
“Oh, yay. I love bowling. Especially since Ali’s been giving me tips to improve my game.”
“We aren’t here to bowl.” I pulled open the door, letting Lacey enter first. I nodded to the man behind the shoe rental counter. “Hey, Mr. J.”
“Now, I know it’s not a holiday today.” Mr. Jones crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his bushy eyebrows with a frown. “What are you two doing here during school?”
Lacey froze in place, sending me a worried glance.
“Tell him, Lacey.” I nodded once at her. “When you’re mad, bad, and dangerous to know, you’ve got to own it. Accept your actions. Face the consequences.”
“Right. The truth is that we are skipping, Mr. Jones. Only for three hours, though, and Grady ran it by my parents first, only I didn’t know that, so I called my mom to let her know I’d be skipping today. So, she knows. That I’m skipping. Which is only because I’m normally a rule-follower and I never break rules, but then Grady and I got to talking and I was like, hey! Life’s too short, I should take a few risks. So, I am.
“And we’re supposed to be watching a Cubs’ game at Wrigley Field in Chicago, but we’re stuck in Devil’s Lap. Plus it isn’t baseball season, but even if it was, there aren’t any baseball teams here. Maybe little league, which would work too, but I think all the little league players are in school right now.”
By the time Lacey stopped talking, Mr. Jones was leaning with one elbow on the counter in front of him, his chin resting in the palm of his other hand, totally enthralled by Lacey’s epic tale.
“Anyway, um, that’s how we ended up here.” Lacey released a long shaky breath and then blinked up at me. “Why are we here again?”
“To watch the only ballgame in town. Ali mentioned they were having the inter-league senior bowling tournament today. The Knitting Grannies vs. the Flying Aces.”
“Down on lanes eleven and twelve.” Mr. Jones wiped his hand over his face, looking like he was fighting a smile. “I’m going to give you thirty minutes, since I know it’s ‘A’ lunch right now. But anything past thirty and I’ll have to call your parents.”
“Yes, sir.”
We dragged two chairs over from the snack bar, to sit and watch. The smack talk between the teams was a little salty, a little intense, and a lot of fun. We didn’t play favorites, cheering for both teams, getting so into the match that we even did a few two-person waves. Not a Cubs’ game, but fun nonetheless.
When twenty-nine of our thirty minutes was up, Lacey tugged me out of the bowling alley with a quick wave to Mr. J.
Our next stop was just two doors down, Art Attack, which was a combined art school and gallery.
“Maybe not museum quality…” I said.
“Hey! My sister takes lessons here, so be careful.” Lacey pushed open the door, sending a bell overhead into a tingling frenzy. “And she’s very talented.”
“I stand corrected.”
“Can I help you?” A woman called from where she was throwing clay in the back of the long room.
“No, thanks,” I called. “Just here to admire the artwork.”
“Groovy. Enjoy.”
We walked around the space, looking, admiring, absorbing the different watercolor, acrylic, and even pencil drawings on display. Lacey stopped in front of a seascape with vibrant, rich colors.
“This is Tracey’s
. I’d know her work anywhere.”
“Wow. The water looks real. Like if I run my hand over it, it’ll come away wet. She’s very talented.”
“Right? I lose my breath every time I see her work. I feel it in my chest.” She tore her eyes from the painting and looked at me, her eyes filled with wonder. “How does it feel to create something that people connect with emotionally?”
“Uh, I wouldn’t know.” I shoved my hands into my pockets and shrugged.
“Yes, you would. That’s what your music does for people.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave me her Prissy Princess look. A look I secretly loved. “You have no idea, do you? You’ve got a wonderful gift to share with the world. You make people feel happy.”
Well, so did Lacey. And she didn’t need a guitar to do it. There was something about her way with people. Her natural friendliness that put people at ease and made them feel included. Wanted. Heard. And she had no idea.
“Ready to move on? We’re down to the last event.”
Both of our phones buzzed with a text. Unusual timing, so we pulled out our phones to check.
“TJ says Chad seems to have figured out that we’re skipping, and he’s trying to catch us—let’s be honest, catch me—in the act.”
“Bernie just texted too. She said Chad was trying to get information from her in third period. He’s even sent Miles to stake out the parking lot.” She tilted her head and looked up at me. “I guess you and your brothers don’t get along?’
“You caught that, did you?” I texted TJ and Dax both, checking on the back entrance to the overflow parking lot. Dax texted back to say they’d get Josh out there to look. “We should probably head back to school. Can you text your sister and let her know we’ll be by to pick her up in ten minutes?”
“Sure. Are you worried Chad will get you in trouble?” Lacey asked, throwing me a worried glance on our way out to the car.
“Me? Heck no. What’s another day of Saturday detention?” We got in the car, buckled up, put the tunes on, and drove toward Mo’s and then on to Jackson High. I didn’t worry about getting in trouble. It was that Chad was one of those guys that got off on getting other people in trouble. He was dishonest and devious. “It’s a matter of principle. I don’t like letting him win.”
With a little help from friends, we all made it back to school unscathed. Between Bernie distracting Miles (hey, Miles, I think your car has a flat) and Josh “accidentally” spilling his chocolate milk down Chad’s preppy pink collared shirt, we sailed right on in. Okay, maybe not total smooth sailing. Lacey was so nervous she hyperventilated which made Tracey laugh so hard she caught the attention of two teachers. I dragged Lacey away and let Tracey deal with that on her own.
“Back with minutes to spare. Good job, Trueheart.” I smoothed her wild curls from her face. “Sorry we had to cut it short. Will you take an I.O.U. for the parade?”
“Absolutely. Don’t think you can weasel out of it either.”
“I wouldn’t dare. So, your first skip day. How does it feel to be bad?”
“Nauseating, fun, scary, exciting, heart-attack inducing, and…freeing.”
“So, good?” I laughed when she rolled her eyes. “Seriously, did you have fun?”
“Yes, but—”
“No ‘but.’ It’s okay to have fun. In fact, many people recommend it.”
“A person doesn’t need to break rules to have fun. Just saying.”
“Agreed. But if you live according to everyone else’s rules—you’re going to miss out on a lot.” I took her hand and squeezed gently, getting her to turn her eyes my way. “You say you don’t have any special talents and you don’t know what you want to study in college.”
“I don’t. People like you and Tracey don’t understand what it’s like. You know exactly what you want to do and where you want to go. It’s scary not having a plan. Pfft. Not even a smidgen of a plan.”
“Maybe that’s why you need to stretch your wings—take a few risks and even break a few rules—to find some undiscovered part of you.” I pulled her into me and wrapped my arms around her. She melted into me, her head against my chest. “The thing about staying inside the lines is that someone draws those lines. Why would you let someone else set those limits for you?”
“Yeah, I get that.” She leaned back to look up at me. “But that doesn’t make it easy for me. I’m dipping my toes into the water and working my way in.”
“Baby steps are good, but jumping in is a lot less painful.”
19
Twin Swap (Come On, You Knew It Had To Happen)
Lacey
One Week Later, Late Wednesday Afternoon
“Hey, Tracey, have you seen my gray eye shadow? I thought I left it on the bathroom counter.”
“Oh, sure. It’s on my easel. I was experimenting with colors. I only used a little.”
“It’s fine.” I’d learned long ago, anything I left lying round was fair game for my creative sister. I walked to her easel, picking up my eye shadow, but pausing to look at her newest drawing. “This is different.”
“We’re studying the cubists. Picasso, Braque, Dali. Interesting stuff.”
“I will take your word on it.”
“Oh, it—” Tracey’s phone blasted out one of her favorite ska tunes from the middle of her bed. “Hang on a sec.”
She threw herself across the bed to answer it. “Hello. Oh! Hello, Mrs. Allen.”
Tracey’s gaze jerked to mine, her eyes wide with excitement. She pointed frantically to the phone at her ear before refocusing on the call. The longer the call went on, the wider her eyes got. She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Yes. I’d love to. Thank you for the opportunity. This Saturday. Yes, ma’am, I’ll be there.”
She ended the call and threw herself back on the bed. “Wheeeeee!”
“Good news?” I made a wild guess.
“Only the best!” Tracey sat up, a smile on her usually somber Goth face. “That was the chairman of the Texas Visual Arts Foundation. I’m in! Wow, wow, wow. Someone dropped out. So, I’m in! I made it. Finally.”
“Congratulations! What is it?”
“What is it? Only the most important competition around. The top student artists get to compete nationally. The exposure alone is fantastic, but there are big scholarship awards and the chance to show my portfolio to some of the best art schools in the country. I’m so amped!”
“Wow, Tracey, how exciting. You definitely need to show your metallic acrylic painting of the ocean. It’s brilliant.”
“Thanks. I agree, the acrylic and maybe my charcoal of the elderly woman. For the third…maybe my—” Tracey stopped talking mid-sentence, her eyes went wide and the smile fell from her face.
“What’s wrong? You don’t have a third piece?”
“No. I can’t go.” Tracey threw herself backward on the bed with a groan. “I hate my life.”
“Of course you can go,” I said.
“I can’t. I’ve got Saturday detention.”
“Oh.” Saturday detention wasn’t unusual for Tracey. Part of the side-effect of being a free-spirit. Skipping class came at a cost. “Can’t you skip it? Just this once?”
“About that… I skipped it last time to see the Degas exhibit. And the time before that for the Indie Sound Festival.” She threw and arm over her eyes. “I’ll be suspended if I skip again.”
“Well—”
“Stop. I don’t need a lecture, Lacey. I know I was an idiot. Ugh. This is one of the times I wish I were you. Perfect rule-following you.” She rolled over on her stomach and screamed into her pillow, before rolling back over to stare dully at the ceiling. “I mean, I don’t go out of my way to mess up, it just happens. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re a risk taker.”
“I’ve applied for this showcase every year since I was a freshman. Four. Years. I can’t believe I finally made it in and I’ve got to turn it down.”
“No, you don’
t.” I sucked in a breath, trying not to think too much about what I was about to say. “I-I’ll do detention for you.”
Tracey sat up quicker than a mousetrap springs shut. “What?”
“I’ll do your detention for you,” I said, sounding braver than I felt. This was far outside my rule-following comfort zone, but I kept hearing Grady’s voice…Stop following the rules all the time. Break a few even. Have fun. Take a risk. And if taking a risk meant I could help Tracey with something this important, then it was a good thing. “On one condition.”
“Name it, and it’s done.” Tracey grabbed my hands.
“No more skipping class.” Maybe I could help her make it through senior year without getting in more trouble.
“Done. You’re the best twin ever.” Tracey hugged me so hard she squeezed the breath out of me. “We’re going to have to dye your hair.”
“Temporary dye.” I gave her a firm look.
“Sure. And I’ll do your make-up. And, of course, you’ll have to wear my clothes.”
I pictured myself with pink hair, smudged kohl eyeliner, and dressed in all black. That was when my nerves kicked in. “Do you think it will work?”
“We’re identical, so yes.” She gave me the once over, her gaze snagging on my face. “If you can manage to stop smiling and looking so perky, then this will totally work.”
20
WWTD: What Would Tracey Do?
Lacey
Saturday Morning
Tracey Trueheart walked into Saturday detention like she did most Saturdays (when she wasn’t skipping) except that she was only five minutes late instead of thirty. And let me just say, it was really, really hard to wait in Tracey’s car for those five minutes.
I was dressed from head to toe in black: black boots, black jeans, black tank top covered with a long-sleeved baggy black sweater, black kohl eyeliner and mascara, and funky black earrings. The only bright spot of color was my hot pink hair, which was mostly covered with a black hat.
The Good Girl & the Bad Boy: A Sweet YA Romance (Jackson High Series Book 2) Page 10
