by Sarah Price
She shrugs.
I want to roll my eyes and make a snappy comment that I didn’t see her stealing her mother’s credit card to buy the tickets or begging her older sister to drive all of us to Topsfield. Four hours! And all of my savings went up in fumes. Gas fumes! All of that was on me, not her. I mean I can’t take them everywhere, for crying out loud. Besides, Brooke is totally throwing me a mercy bone by bringing me along at all.
Someone slides next to me on the bench. To my surprise, I see Nora there. She’s wearing a bathing suit with a fluffy pink towel wrapped around her. Her hair is still wet so I know she’s been swimming next door. Nevertheless, I’m shocked that she’s sitting next to me. After all, she hadn’t spoken to me at school since the Leslie-shoving-incident a few weeks ago. And I have never seen her at the stables. But there she is, sitting beside me, smiling as if we’re complete and total BFFLs. As if it’s completely natural for her to be here. As if her presences isn’t out of the ordinary.
“What are you doing here?” I ask tentatively.
She bats her eyes at me. “Is it true?”
So. No hellos, how’s summer, or anything like that. Just cutting right to the point. Typical Nora.
“Is what true?” I respond, even though I’m fairly certain I know what she’s referencing. I just want to hear her say it.
She smiles and leans forward. “That you’re going to the Rodeo Rage tomorrow night? That you’re going backstage?” She says the word backstage as if I’m going to meet One Direction or 5SOS. Well, to me, I guess it’s sorta the same thing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Cassie gets up and stomps away with her lunch bag. She’s really upset. I make a mental note to deal with her later. Returning my attention to Nora, I nod. “Uh, yeah. I am. Why?”
Nora clutches her hands together and holds them to her chest. If she’s trying to look demure, she’s failing. Instead, she looks ridiculous, especially in that bathing suit. “That’s so exciting! I know how much you adore him.”
Adore? Him? Is she crazy? Is she actually referencing Aiden Quinn without the proper respect of using his name? “Well, I am his number one fan, Nora,” I say to correct her. “Number. One.” Actually I’m #3,134 but I don’t want her to know that.
“Of course you are.”
She sounds far too patronizing and I don’t like it one bit. Clearly she’s up to something. After she ratted me out about the no-birthday-present morning, she has been on my public enemy list.
With narrowed eyes, I give her the stink eye. “What do you want, Nora?”
With a gentle lift of her shoulders, she looks down at the ground. Her feigned bashfulness is not working on me. And then she raises her eyes as she says the unthinkable. “I just thought that, you know, maybe you might be able to get him to follow me on Twitter.”
It takes every ounce of composure for me to not laugh out loud. Now I know that she’s lost her marbles. Ever since my birthday, my sole mission has been to get him to follow me. Why on earth would I want him following her? Besides, I liked him before he had ... what was it this morning? ... 720,000 followers? Argh! The last thing I want is for other people to keep liking him. I don’t want to be one of the many. I need to stand out from the rest. Be totally different. So getting Aiden Quinn to follow anyone is not on my list of priorities.
Of course, Nora doesn’t need to know that. Mom always says to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. So I give her a big smile, hoping it looks genuine. “Why, of course! I’d be happy to ask him to follow you!”
Jamie makes a choking noise and coughs.
Nora gives me a girlish giggle that makes me want to push her off the bench. Is this why the boys like her? Because she plays coy?
“Oh, thank you, Cat,” she gushes as she reaches into her bag and pulls out an envelope. “I … uh ... well, I wrote this letter to him.” While the envelope is small, it sure is thick. What did she do, write a novel? She slides it across the picnic table to me. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“Not at all.” I take the envelope and hold it as if it’s the most important thing in the world. Unfortunately, that letter will never make its way into Aiden Quinn’s hands. The trash? Maybe. Aiden Quinn? Never.
“You’re so lucky. I heard that they sold out within three hours of the tickets going on sale,” Nora says. “I was at the shore with ...” Her voice trails away and I know without being told that she had been with Leslie Murphy. “Anyway, we found out too late. Besides, I don’t have anyone to take me.”
She’s not building a case for me wanting to even mention her existence to Aiden Quinn, never mind get that follow on Twitter.
“That’s too bad,” I hear myself say.
She nods her head and looks disappointed. Too disappointed. I can tell that she’s trying to play on my sympathies, but I have a hard time feeling bad for her. She doesn’t even ride horses! Why should she care about Aiden?
“Funny, you know,” I start to say slowly. “All these girls following Aiden. I didn’t realize there were so many horse riders out there, especially in New Jersey.”
Nora looks at me with a strange expression on her face. “Horse riders? What do horse riders have to do with Aiden Quinn?”
What kind of question is that? “Uh ... everything?”
Nora laughs and waves her hand at me, a gesture that is far too dismissive for my liking. “Do you really think that he has almost a million followers ...”
“Three quarters of a million,” I correct her. I can always hope that those extra quarter million girls never materialize.
“... like him because of his horses?”
Now it’s my turn to wear a strange expression. What is she talking about? “Isn’t that why they like him?”
“No, silly! They like him because he’s cute.”
What?! I mean, yeah, Aiden Quinn is super adorable. I won’t deny that. But he’s talented. He really knows how to work with his horses, and he’s funny on top of that. “Because he’s cute?”
“You know, like those other Instagrammers ...”
For a second, I feel as if my head is going to explode. How dare she! “You cannot lump Aiden Quinn in the same category as other Instagrammers!”
This time, when she blinks her eyes, it’s genuine. Genuine surprise. “Why not? That’s why he’s famous now, right? His IG videos.”
I’m floored. Is that what all of those girls think? The 750,000 other girls following him? I realize that I have to defend Aiden’s honor. “No,” I snap. “He’s not like those other guys. They’re completely talentless! Silly. Goofy. Maybe funny. But they have all of those followers strictly because they’re cute. Aiden is truly gifted!”
Nora shrugs. “Gifted or not, that’s not why so many girls like him.”
This is outrageous, and on behalf of Aiden Quinn and cowboys everywhere, I’m personally offended.
Nora, however, doesn’t seem to notice. She gets up to leave. “Well, have fun, Cat.” She glances at Jamie as if seeing her for the first time. She spares a quick smile at her and then turns toward me. “We’ll all be rooting for you.” And with that, she’s gone, headed back toward the town pool next door.
I wait until she’s gone until I turn to Jamie. “Do you believe that?”
Cassie slinks back from wherever she disappeared to and sits on the edge of the picnic table. “What did she want?”
I point to the envelope in front of me. “That. That’s what she wanted.”
“A letter?”
“Yeah! She wants me to give that to Aiden Quinn! As if!”
Jamie takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “Clearly she’s stalking you on Twitter.”
“You think?” There’s no way to hide the sarcasm in my voice. It’s obvious that Nora and probably Leslie Murphy are watching my Twitter and probably Instagram account, too. Such creepers.
Cassie picks up the envelope and holds it up to the light. “I wonder what she said. Should we open it?”
/> For a moment, I actually contemplate her question. That would be a real hoot! Open the letter and read it, laugh at her lovesick blah blah blah that she scribbled to Aiden Quinn. “No. Just throw it away,” I say at last, even though it pains me. Even though I’m not a big fan of Nora, I wouldn’t want to embarrass her like that. I’m not Leslie Murphy. No matter how much I can’t stand her, I most certainly don’t want to behave like her. I might be just a tad overly protective of Aiden Quinn, but I’m not a cruel person. Reading that letter would be downright mean.
With lunch almost over, the half-day campers will be going home soon, and that means that I’ll have time to ride for a bit. So I stand up and glance over at the barn. “Guess we should clean up from the morning.” The last thing I want is for Marcus to see me sitting around and think I’m slacking. Besides, keeping busy will make the day go faster. Tomorrow cannot come soon enough!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Cowtown!
New Jersey might be a small state, but it took us almost three hours to get from Morristown to Cowtown. As soon as we arrive, Brooke texts Randy so that he can get us and bring us backstage.
He greets Brooke with a sheepish smile. “Glad you could make it.”
I roll my eyes.
“Hey, Cat,” he says. “You ready to go backstage?”
A few of the girls that are standing nearby must have overheard him. One of them begins to whisper to her friend and they start to crowd us. Fortunately Randy is used to the crazy fangirls and is quick to respond. He grabs Brooke’s hand and quickly drags us to security.
“Wow. They’re really nuts!” Brooke seems surprised.
Randy shrugs. “They know I’m Aiden’s brother, I guess.”
“Speaking of Aiden …,” I say, thankful for the lead-in. “Do I get to meet him now?”
I notice that Randy glances at Brooke. He looks nervous. Too nervous.
“Whoa!” I hold up my hands. “I get to meet Aiden, right?”
“See, the thing is …” He pauses and reaches for his cell phone. Quickly, he checks his messages. “Well, yes. Yes, you do, Cat. I mean you will if …”
“If?” I practically scream the word. “If what?”
“If he shows up.”
I feel lightheaded. Did Randy just say if he shows up? “Are you telling me that he’s not here?” He doesn’t have to say a word. His expression alone tells me the answer. I spin around and glare at Brooke. “Did you know about this?”
“Cat, I swear I didn’t.”
I turn back to Randy. “Why isn’t he here? He’s supposed to be here, right?”
“He was meeting someone in New York City. But the meeting ran late.”
This is too much. “A meeting? What kind of meeting?”
Brooke takes my arm and quickly steers me to the side. “You need to stop,” she hisses at me. “You’re being a brat.”
“I’m a brat? We just spent three hours in the car to get here, and Romeo over there can’t produce Aiden?” I’m mad. Really mad. “He’s at a ‘meeting’? That’s such a lame excuse.”
“Cat!”
She gives me a death glare before rejoining Randy. I watch as they walk away, a little too lovey-dovey for my liking.
Sulking, I wander to the curtained area near the side of the stage. I can hear music starting to play and a bunch of girls scream. Miserable, I lean against a pole, knowing that no one will look for me there. I can mope in private.
But I’m wrong.
Someone brushes past me, knocking me aside. “Hey, there!” I feel two hands on my arms, steadying me. “Sorry ’bout that!”
I recognize Clayton, Aiden’s best friend. He’s grinning at me. My heart starts to beat fast. Really fast. And I think my palms are sweating. Talking to Clayton means I’m one degree from Aiden!
“You alright?”
I nod and manage a “uh-huh.”
“Didn’t see you standing there.”
I nod again, even though I’m not sure why.
He keeps grinning, even though he’s looking at me in a strange way. “Okay then,” he says and slowly walks away, looking at me once before he disappears behind the curtain.
Curious, I poke my head through the slit in the curtain. The arena is already filled with girls. The security guards are strategically positioned to keep them from jumping over the metal barricades.
“Hey, you!”
I look around wondering who’s being called. Surprisingly, no one is standing near me. That’s when I realize that someone is trying to catch my attention. A mob of girls press against the barricade, leaning over the edge. The tall one in the front is definitely calling me. I point to my chest and she nods. With a quick glance around to make certain she means me, I walk over to her.
“Who are you?” she asks.
I don’t like her tone. While I’d like to tell her that she’s kinda rude, just blurting that out, I keep my mouth shut. I’ve seen the damage these girls can do. I barely survived the Topsfield venue.
“I’m Cat,” I say.
“Why are you back there?” she snaps.
“Uh ...” How do I begin to explain this?
“You’re not famous.”
From the sassy tone in her voice, I can guess where this is going and I step backwards, glancing over my shoulder real quick to see if the big security guy is lingering nearby. “I gotta go.”
“You’re that Cowgirl Cat, aren’t you?” someone else calls out from behind her.
Before I can answer, quick as a flash, the first girl reaches out and grabs me. I feel my body getting pulled toward the barricade and there are hands groping my gold VIP pass.
Before security can rescue me, another girl shoves my attacker. Free from her grip, I fall backwards and land on the ground, positive that this experience is going to be ranked right up there as one of the worse days of my life. No Aiden and now this?
“Leave her alone!” the one girl yells.
A complete brawl ensues. I’m still on the ground, utterly dumbfounded. I’ve never witnessed a catfight, and this one is a doozy. Hair is pulled, faces scratched, and bodies move like waves in the ocean.
The music is still blasting and everyone seems completely oblivious that these girls are getting ready to massacre each other. I start to crawl backwards, not caring that I look like a fool. Then, the next thing I know, I’m being lifted in the air and set back on my feet.
“You all right?”
I stare up at the security guard. He’s really big. His arms are as wide as my head. “Uh-huh,” I manage to say.
Satisfied, he turns his attention to the fighting mass of hormonally imbalanced fangirls. Just as he’s approaching them, the barricade starts to cave forward. He leans down and throws his body against it, like a football player on the offensive. Holy Hannah, he’s strong! By himself, he totally shoves the barricade back and then starts pushing girls back, tearing them apart from each other.
“Sit down!” he bellows at the crowd of girls.
The defiance in their eyes is outrageous. If someone yelled at me like that? My butt would plop right down to the ground.
He repeats himself, and finally, one by one, they start to listen to him.
“None of you move, you hear me? Anyone who so much as blinks will be escorted from this building!”
His voice is so fierce that I’m afraid to move, even though I know he’s not talking to me. I glance at the girls sitting on the floor and my attacker glares at me, her brown hair a complete rat’s nest. The other girl who defended me is sitting apart from her, and I see that someone must have scratched her face. Blood is trickling down her cheek.
We make eye contact and I give her a half-hearted smile, wanting to let her know that I appreciate her efforts at having saved me from certain death. But it’s hard to smile when someone is bleeding and sitting on the ground behind a metal barricade.
Help her. My inner voice is at it again. And, as usual, I know I’ll listen.
Quietly, I walk up
to the security guard and tug gently on his sleeve. When he glances down at me, the fierce look in his eyes softens. Maybe it’s because I have a gold VIP badge hanging around my neck, or maybe it’s because I probably give off the scent of fear. Or maybe it’s because he heard that I was supposed to meet Aiden and he’s a no-show.
Regardless, I swallow and point to the one girl. “She’s bleeding and she tried to help me.”
He lifts an eyebrow, his eyes glancing at her without moving his head. That’s an impressive move, I think. Probably part of security guard training. After a short debate with what appears to be his inner voice, he nods his head and motions to her. I’m not quite certain what that means until he says, “Go meet her at the gate over there and tell the security guard that I said she needs medical attention.”
He doesn’t need to repeat himself before the girl is on her feet and scrambling toward the gate. I try to match her rapid pace so I can meet her there.
“Whoa,” the guard says, lifting his hand to block her from entering.
I touch his arm and point in the direction of the behemoth guard who saved me and, in all likelihood, the entire show. “That guy told me to tell you to let her in,” I say and point to her cheek. “She needs medical care.”
The guard sighs and shakes his head. “Another one? Go on then.”
The girl’s eyes brighten up as she walks beside me. “Hey, thanks, Cowgirl Cat. You’re the best.”
Geez, wow! I don’t even know how to respond to that. Even more startling is how she knows my social media name. Same with that other girl. “How do you know me?”
“We follow you.”
Well, no duh! “Why?”
She laughs and shrugs. “You’re an epic diehard.”
Epic diehard. I like the sound of that.
“And some of us are rooting for you.”
Rooting for me? For what? Rather than ask, I change the subject. “What’s your name?”
“Emily.” She has a Southern accent so I can tell she’s not from New Jersey. And she’s really pretty with brown hair and dark eyes. She seems nice enough, plus anyone who thinks I’m the best is definitely top notch in my book. “That was really cool. Most girls wouldn’t do that. You know, help get a stranger backstage.”