Shake It Off

by Suzanne Nelson

  “I want you to know …” My voice shook. “You … you’ve been a great friend to me. A better friend than I deserved.”

  And then I was the one pushing past him, running out the barn door, leaving my heart behind, alongside Gabe’s guitar.

  * * *

  I spent the rest of the day at the creamery trying not to think about Gabe. I tried not to think about his storm cloud eyes or the way his black curls shone in sunlight. I tried not to think about how I should’ve kissed him when I’d had the chance. Mostly, I tried not to think about his kindness, his truth telling, and how much I was missing him already.

  Instead, I stayed glued to the shake machine, trying to lose myself in the process, hoping that if I stuck with it for long enough, my heart would stop hurting. It didn’t. I felt Aunt Beth’s worried glance more than once over the course of the morning. But she didn’t press me with questions, leaving me to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. And I was beyond relieved when she told me that Wren (who’d apparently finally gotten out of bed) would be out driving the tractor for the hayrides.

  “Taking a breather from each other will do you both good,” she’d said breezily.

  I knew I needed to talk to Wren, but I still felt too raw.

  It wasn’t until that night, after an unusually quiet dinner with an absent Gabe and everybody else lost in their own thoughts, that I went in search of Wren. I gathered up my courage, plus the creamery sales figures I’d printed out earlier, and tiptoed upstairs.

  After spending the day assuming I’d be sleeping on the couch again, I was surprised to find her bedroom door open. I knocked, then peeked tentatively around the door.

  “Can I come in?” I asked.

  Her expression was unreadable as she shrugged. “Door’s open, isn’t it?” Her voice was tired, but void of anger, which I took as a promising sign.

  I perched on the edge of my bed with a new awkward politeness. The sadness I felt over losing Gabe tangled with the regret I felt over hurting Wren, until I thought my heart might combust in confusion. I pressed my hands together to steady them. “I … wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

  “You said that already.” Wren spoke quietly but bluntly. “Last night.”

  “This is different.” I stared down at the worn floorboards. “I’m sorry about the way I came here, with my snobby attitude. I’m sorry I blew off working around the farm for so long, and that I stuck you with all the chores. I’m sorry about what I said to Leila. It was wrong.”

  “And super rude,” Wren blurted with a glare.

  “Yup. That, too.” I nodded. “It’s taken me a long time to see it, but … Leila’s not a nice person. Or a good friend.” I paused, then mumbled as a wistful afterthought, “Even if she does love my taste in clothes.”

  Wren gave a single “Ha!” that bolstered my confidence.

  “Anyway, I don’t think I’m going to be hanging out with her anymore.” I blew out a breath. “I guess I need to work on a lot of things. Like how to be a better friend. A real one.” I caught Wren’s gaze and held it, making sure she knew I meant it.

  An excruciating minute of silence passed, and fear tingled up my spine. What if Wren didn’t believe me? Or worse, what if she didn’t think I was capable of being a good friend?

  She stared at her bedspread, but finally said, “You already are a good friend, Bria, when you quit worrying about what snotty girls like Leila think of you. But that needs to be you all the time. Not just some of the time.”

  “You’re right.” I moved to sit beside her on her bed. “And I wasn’t there for you the way I should’ve been. I know you’ve been upset about the sale to CheeseCo, and …” I swallowed, dreading that I was about to bring him up on purpose, but knowing that I had to. “You kept the whole thing with Gabe under wraps for so long, too. I feel awful I didn’t pick up on how you felt about him.”

  “No.” Wren shook her head. “That’s partly my fault. I don’t exactly walk around with my heart on my sleeve.”

  I smiled. “Nope. You’re pretty much like the sphinx—an emotional enigma.”

  Now she really laughed. “Maybe I can do better in that department.” Then her cheeks reddened. “I … actually have some news to share … about Gabe. Before he went home tonight, he asked me if I’d go to the movies with him tomorrow.”

  My pulse quickened, and I stared down at the bedspread to steady myself. I shouldn’t have been surprised, especially since I was the one who’d dropped the hint to him in the first place. Still, it was a sharp, vinegar hurt in my heart all the same. I mustered a smile, though, because I didn’t want to ruin this moment for Wren. “That’s great,” I said brightly. “I mean”—I elbowed her—“it’s about time, right? You’ve only had a crush on him since forever.”

  She laughed and rolled her eyes. “That’s true, but I sort of feel like I’m living an alternate reality. I mean, am I really going to go on a date with him?”

  I pulled her into a hug, glad to see her happy despite the ache inside me. “You are. You can borrow some of my clothes for tomorrow, too, if you want.”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. Been there, done that.” She looked down at her boyfriend jeans and plain tee. “I’ve decided I’m not going to change who I am for anybody. I’m wearing what I love, no matter what Gabe or anybody else thinks.”

  “Hey, you never know. You could start a whole new fashion trend. Dungarees could be the next big thing …”

  Wren burst out laughing. “Bria. Don’t start.”

  I laughed. “Okay, okay. Seriously, though, there’s a totally different trend I think we should jump on instead.” Wren raised a skeptical eyebrow, but I raised my hands to wave off her protests. “Not fashion. Dawson’s Creamery Crazy Shakes.”

  Wren frowned. “We’re already making new shakes—”

  “And we’ve gotten really good at it.” I grabbed the printouts I’d set on my bed and placed them between us. “I checked the sales last night and they’ve doubled. And then I started thinking about Sip & Shake, the shake place I like in Chicago. It’s actually a chain, and they have a ton of shops all over Chicago. It gave me an idea for how we might be able to save the farm from CheeseCo.”

  Wren’s eyes widened. “Okay …” she said slowly. “I’m listening.”

  Pushing thoughts of Gabe aside as best as I could, I explained my idea to Wren. When I finished, there was a new fire in Wren’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. “It’s a long shot,” she said. “Mr. Brannigen is coming on Monday to sign the final paperwork with Mom and Dad, and it’s next to impossible to change Mom’s mind about anything.”

  “But it’s better than no shot at all,” I responded. “So … ?” I held my breath, waiting.

  At last Wren nodded, grinning. “Let’s do it. We can look for some old pics of the creamery and Grandpa and Grandma tomorrow, and I’ll email the reporter from the Omaha Gazette first thing in the morning.”

  I grinned, too. “And I’ll get started on a new shake recipe. Something to knock Mr. Gilford’s taste buds into orbit.”

  We talked for a few more minutes, tossing around shake ideas and possible spots to hang a photo collage in the creamery, and, before I realized what was happening, the awkwardness between us was gone entirely. Soon, we were getting ready for bed, a peaceful quiet settling between us. Thoughts of Gabe still swirled in my head, but they were tempered by thoughts of Wren’s excitement over her date with him and our plans for the Fourth of July Bash. Tonight was the first time I’d seen Wren happy since Aunt Beth and Uncle Troy had told her about the farm sale. And doing this for her felt right and good.

  Wren flicked off the light and we lay in the darkness, listening to the crickets through the open window. I rolled over and closed my eyes, but not before sending up a wish to the stars that—somehow, some way—my family would get to keep their farm forever.

  I took a sip of ice cold creaminess, but even the gooey, chocolatey goodness of a Smashtastic S’mores shake
offered me little comfort. I’d fixed myself the biggest, chocolatiest shake I could and brought it out to the goat pen to drown my misery in marshmallows and Hershey’s. Wren and Gabe had left for their date an hour ago, and I’d been absolutely useless ever since.

  With the Fourth of July Bash the next day, we’d all been busy. I’d spent most of the day perfecting my new shake recipe and helping Wren unearth photographs and old picture frames from the farmhouse attic. We’d emailed the reporter, Mr. Gilford, and he said that he’d try to stop by the creamery during the celebration. He was also covering the fireworks show in Omaha, so he couldn’t promise that he’d come, but Wren and I still clung to the hope that he might.

  Uncle Troy, Luke, and Gabe had decorated the farmyard and barns with red-white-and-blue swags and banners, and Aunt Beth, Wren, and I had decorated the creamery. Even when Aunt Beth decided that we’d hung enough streamers and glitter stars from the ceiling, Wren and I didn’t quit. We made sparkling centerpieces out of metallic stars and ribbons and hung a border of red and blue twinkle lights from the sales counter and menu board. We decided we’d wait to hang the photo collage until early Monday morning, as a surprise for Aunt Beth.

  For the first time, I’d been truly grateful for Wren’s reserved nature. She only brought up Gabe once, and that was only to say that they were leaving for the movies around seven. I could tell by her smile that she was excited, but I was beyond relieved that I didn’t have to endure any gushing about him.

  After the decorating was done, Wren and Gabe had left for the movie, and now all I could do was obsess over the date I wasn’t on. I took another half-hearted sip of my shake and leaned back against the fence as Tulip nuzzled her head into my shoulder. I lifted my hand to pet her, but instead of accepting my head scratch, she stole a marshmallow from atop my shake instead.

  “Hey! I’m the one who’s stress eating here, you little thief!” I cried with a laugh. “You”—I waggled a scolding finger at her—“are a lousy date.”

  What were Gabe and Wren doing right this minute? Were they sharing popcorn, or holding hands in the darkened theater? I winced. I didn’t want to think about it, but it was all I could think about.

  “I thought I might find you out here,” a voice said, and I turned to see Aunt Beth walking toward the goat pen. She climbed over the fence and sat down beside me. “So …” She gently nudged my arm. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” I lied.

  She smiled softly. “Try again.” She slid her arm around me, pulling me close. “Honey, there’s not much I don’t see, and when two girls living under one roof have a crush on the same boy …” She chuckled. “Well, that’s not all that hard to miss.”

  “Wren doesn’t know,” I said quietly.

  “I guessed that, too.” My aunt nodded.

  “I didn’t think it was fair to tell her, especially now, when nothing will ever happen between me and Gabe.” I sighed. “I want to be happy for her—”

  “Of course you do, and I know you’re trying.” She gave me a squeeze. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve grown these last few weeks. Your uncle and I both see it, and I’ve been bragging to your mom and dad about it, too.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Beth.” I gave her a small smile. “But it’s hard.”

  “Putting others first always is.” She gave me one more hug. “Come to the house when you’re ready. Your uncle and Luke are itching to light some Roman candles out back.” She rolled her eyes. “Every year around the Fourth of July, they always get the urge to set things on fire.”

  I laughed at that, but as soon as she walked away, my restlessness returned. Finally, I gave up on the idea of making peace with Wren and Gabe’s date, and turned for the house. If I was going to have a long, agonizing night … I figured I might as well set off a few firecrackers.

  * * *

  Very early the next morning, I hammered the last of the photos onto the creamery wall, and then stepped back to view my handiwork. There were now a dozen vintage photos of the Dawson farm and creamery hanging up. There was one of my grandparents standing in front of the creamery’s grand opening sign, and another with our entire family—grandparents, parents, and cousins—standing out front. It was taken when Wren, Luke, and I were just toddlers, probably just before my grandparents passed away. The photos told the farm’s whole story, and I hoped they would catch people’s eyes when they walked through the door.

  I was tucking the hammer and nails back under the sales counter when the creamery door opened and Wren walked in, yawning.

  “Bria?” She glanced at the photo collage. “Omigosh, you hung them already? They look amazing! But … why didn’t you wake me up? I was going to help you …”

  I shrugged. “I was up at four and couldn’t sleep anymore after that, so I figured I’d get started.” The truth was, I’d barely slept at all. I’d only pretended to be asleep when Wren had tiptoed into the bedroom last night after her date. I hadn’t been ready to hear about it yet. I wasn’t even sure I was ready to hear about it now, but I knew that at this point, it was as unavoidable as goat pellets. I braced myself and asked, “So … how did it go with Gabe last night?”

  I held my breath, expecting Wren to burst into an ear-to-ear grin and declare that it was the most incredible night of her life. Instead, she sank into the nearest booth with a grimace.

  “The movie was great,” she said. “But the date was awful.”

  I froze, not sure I’d heard her right. “What?”

  She laughed, nodding. “Yup. Crazy, right?” She plucked at one of the starry centerpieces, absentmindedly brushing her fingers through its metallic red-and-blue garland. “Turns out that the idea of going out with Gabe was nothing like the reality.” Her nose wrinkled. “The whole time, I felt like I was hanging out with my brother. It was totally weird.”

  “Really?” I could scarcely believe it. I felt truly sorry for her, but also tried to push down the zing of relief running through me. “That’s … too bad.”

  “It’s actually not.” She shrugged. “I think I’m just too used to him for him to be a real crush for me. But at least I know that now, and I never have to wonder again.”

  “So … did you tell him that’s how you felt?”

  She nodded. “He was relieved. He said he felt the same way.”

  “But … but …” I shook my head, trying to take it all in as my pulse raced.

  “Bria. We only talked about two things the whole night. The movie … and you.” She grinned at me as my stomach dove to my toes.

  “Wh—what?” I stammered.

  “I’ve suspected for a while that you were the one Gabe was into. But then you gave me an opening, and I didn’t want to admit to myself that Gabe and I are just friends. Until we had such a terrible date.”

  “Wren, I swear that nothing happened—”

  “I know.” She held up a hand. “I’m not upset about it. Really. I mean, I don’t know how you feel about him, but I’m pretty sure he’s head over heels for you. And now I know that Gabe and I wouldn’t work as a couple anyway.”

  I shook my head, trying to bring my reeling world back into focus, and sank down into the booth across from her. “So … what are you saying?”

  Her eyes met mine. “I’m saying that if something ends up happening with you and Gabe … I’m okay with it. Got it?” She gave my hand a squeeze.

  “Got it,” I whispered, but even as I said it, my heart was wrestling with hope and despair. I’d already told Gabe that I didn’t like him. How was he ever going to believe anything else I said now? I wanted to rush out to find him, or hide from him for all eternity.

  But I didn’t have the chance to do either, because at that moment, I heard Aunt Beth calling for us from out in the farmyard. Wren checked the wall clock and stood up decisively.

  “We better get ready to open,” she said. “Who knows when Mr. Gilford might show up, and CheeseCo’s coming at two. If the crowds are going to be as big as I think they are, we’re not going to h
ave a spare minute.”

  I nodded and stood up, too. Right now, I needed to focus on making this the most fantastic Fourth of July this farm had ever seen. And Gabe—sigh—would have to stay an unanswered question.

  * * *

  The crowd that descended on the farm over the next few hours wasn’t just big. It was record-breaking. The parking lot was full from the moment the creamery opened, and soon cars were parked on the grass as well. Families flocked to pet the goats and navigate the decorated corn maze. Luke and Gabe were giving hayrides back to back, while Uncle Troy helped in the kitchen. Aunt Beth had created a special Firecracker Burger, complete with hot sauce and pickled jalapeños, and even at ten a.m., burger baskets were flying out of the creamery’s kitchen by the dozen.

  It didn’t feel like any other Fourth I’d ever known. Back in Chicago, Mom and Dad and I would’ve had a lazy morning together, maybe walking to our favorite corner bakery for breakfast, and then packing up for a day down at Navy Pier, relaxing by the water as we waited for the fireworks. This Fourth of July, between manning the shake station and helping deliver food baskets to customers, I worked nonstop.

  Knowing that I had no time to see Gabe was by turns a relief and torture. My tumult of emotions was only compounded by the fact that hour after hour went by without any sign of Mr. Gilford. But then, at one thirty, just as I was losing hope, the reporter appeared, along with Ms. Hale, the photographer we’d seen at the rodeo.

  I nudged Wren to get her to glance up from the cash register.

  “It’s go time,” I whispered.

  We locked eyes in unspoken understanding and smiled, both of us knowing what we had to do. “Knock his socks off,” I said to Wren, and then I hurried to the kitchen to get Aunt Beth while Wren went to greet Mr. Gilford.

  “What do you mean, the Omaha Gazette is here?” Aunt Beth gaped as I repeated the news for the second time. “But … how? When?”