The Next To Last Mistake

by Jahn, Amalie

  I place my hand on my abdomen, remembering the searing pain I’d experienced standing there with Zander in the middle of the Jenkins’ field. We were surrounded by the decomposing husks of drying cornstalks, only days away from harvest, and the pungent stench had been overwhelming, causing me to gag. Seeing my distress without knowing quite what to make of the situation, Zander eyed me warily in the moonlight and asked if I was okay. I assured him I was fine, that it was only a stomach cramp, but I wanted to return to the party. I fell three times on the way back, and by the time we reached the clearing beside the fire, the pain in my abdomen had grown so acute, it was all I could do to stay upright.

  “If I had known I was getting my period for the first time, maybe everything would have been different. But I had no idea what was happening out there in the cornfield with Zander. The pain. The nausea. By the time we got back to the party, I’d made quite a mess of myself. I’d fallen on the way back and knew my hands and knees were covered in mud, but I didn’t realize blood was seeping through the crotch of my jeans. Of course, even in the dim glow of the fire, Lacey Pemberton noticed. That girl noticed everything. I’ve often wondered if there was something I could have said or something I could have done, but there was nothing. No way of knowing what was about to happen. So, I stumbled into Connor’s house and called my mom to come get me. I was completely unaware of the spark I’d ignited.”

  Leonetta’s eyes are wide as if she knows what’s coming. As if she can already imagine how cruel one person can be to another. Because she knows firsthand how jealousy can make people say and do horrible things. That people like Lacey and Monika are cut from the same cloth.

  “By the time I got to school Monday morning, the rumor had already spread, as if I’d taken a match to that cornfield and set it ablaze myself. There was talk Zander had forced himself on me. That he took advantage. Caused me to bleed.”

  “But he didn’t,” Leonetta gasped.

  “No, of course, he didn’t. He would never. It was a vicious lie spread by a vengeful, jealous girl who hated being left behind when Zander took me into the field instead of her.”

  “Did Zander get in trouble?”

  “At first, but in the end, everyone was satisfied it was a misunderstanding. They believed Zander hadn’t harmed me in any way. I’d simply gotten my period at the wrong time in the wrong place.” The words sound both ridiculous and slightly ironic coming out of my mouth. Because for most girls, it would have been mortifying enough to have the whole school privy to the details of your first menstrual cycle. But to have faced only that would have been a walk in the park for me. “So anyway,” I say at last, “if I could go back to school and face Lacey, you can go back to class and face Monika. Because you and I both know you’re way tougher than I am. And in my opinion, your hair is on fleek.”

  Leonetta raises an eyebrow skeptically. “On fleek?”

  “Lit?” I offer. “Snatched?”

  She tosses her book into her bag and hoists herself off the floor, extending her hand to help me up. “Just stick to being little ole Midwestern you and don’t worry ‘bout learning the lingo, m‘kay?”

  “Ten-four,” I say, giving her a salute.

  “Better,” she acknowledges as we begin making our way back to chemistry. “And thanks. Thanks for coming to find me and thanks for sharing your stuff. You’re a good friend.”

  I give her arm a squeeze. “Back atcha.”

  chapter 21

  Purple Coneflower Boutonniere

  Sunday, March 24

  Even after almost three months away from the farm and all its endless responsibilities, I still wake up every morning at 4:45 like clockwork, even on the weekends. Which is why I’m not surprised to be startled out of an exceptionally realistic dream only to find it’s not even five o’clock.

  My head is fuzzy in the disorienting sort of way that comes along with not quite remembering where you are or how you got there. Only moments ago, tucked safely inside the familiarity of my dream, I’d been in the barn with the herd. With Sunshine. I’d been milking her by hand, something we rarely did since it was never particularly effective. The cows’ teats become less receptive to manual expression after being mechanically milked for so long, so hand expression is often a lesson in futility. Just the same, it’s what I’d been doing in my dream: milking Sunshine. My forehead rested against her flank as I milked her, and I was conscious of how solid and stable she felt beside me. Her body was warm, and I matched the pace of my squeezing to the rhythmic grinding of her teeth as she chewed her cud. The milk shooting into the pail below was creamy and fresh-smelling, and I felt somehow that Sunshine was happy to share it with me.

  I don’t remember much else of the dream, but what tendrils remain are enough to drive me to tears. Since arriving in Fayetteville, I haven’t cried for the herd, for my farm, or for Zander. Not once. But for some reason, the images of Sunshine leave me welling up, spilling over for their loss. I cry for Minnie and the infected hoof I nursed her through, singing to her as I cut away the painful, damaged section of bone. Bella, who would moo if she saw me approaching in the field, the bovine equivalent of a salutation. And sweet Annie, who was born blind in one eye, causing her to bump into things due to a lack of depth perception. There’s a sudden urgency fueled by longing. Where they are now and what’s happened to them in my absence?

  Is anyone being mindful of Minnie’s hooves?

  Does Bella moo at her new owner in the fields?

  Are the door jambs padded to protect Annie’s head at her new home?

  Dad knows, of course, but I haven’t plucked the courage to ask him about our girls. There’s a part of me who still doesn’t want to know, who wants to keep imagining the farm as it was while I lived there, not as it exists today. There’s someone else who knows too, of course, but I haven’t asked him either. And he hasn’t offered.

  Suddenly, I can’t wait until the afternoon to talk to Zander. I want to talk to him now, but it’s not even four o’clock in Iowa. The only reason he’d be up this early on a Sunday morning would be if the barn was burning down.

  I make several unsuccessful attempts at falling back to sleep, but after tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, I finally give up. At my desk, I turn on my lamp to try and study for an upcoming math test on the Pythagorean Theorem, but despite my best intentions, my mind keeps slinking back to Iowa.

  And the herd.

  And Zander.

  Finally, at 8:27, I pick up my phone. Surely, he’ll be awake by 7:30, and if he isn’t, I reason he ought to be. Surprisingly, his mom answers on the third ring.

  “Good morning,” she says in a voice as familiar to me as my own mother’s. “Tess?”

  “Hi, Miss Nancy,” I say. “It’s me. I hope I’m not calling too early, but I was hoping to speak with Zander if he’s up.”

  She chuckles. “Oh, yeah. He’s up. Been out in the barn with his daddy since sunrise. One of the cows is about to give birth, and we think it might be twins. Musta left his cell here on the table by mistake in all the excitement.”

  Hearing this, it’s like she’s taken a vise to my heart. How I would love to be there.

  “Oh,” I say, conscious of my invasion. “Well, no reason to call him in. I’ll try again later.”

  “Nonsense,” she tells me, and before I have a chance to protest again, I hear the banging of their kitchen’s screen door as she heads into the yard. I can imagine her crossing the thin stretch of grass between the house and the largest barn where the cows are kept. Then she calls out, “Zander! Tess is on the phone!”

  I can’t make out what he says in return but a moment later, he’s breathing heavily into the receiver.

  “Hey!” he says brightly. “Did I order a wake-up call?”

  I’m embarrassed for not having the patience to wait for our scheduled time later in the day. He’s going to assume I have something pressing to discuss. Something more urgent than the well-being of my herd.

  �
��No,” I stammer. “I just woke up early. You know. Old habits. And I had a lot on my mind and no one else to talk to.”

  He steps into the house, slamming the screen door behind him as his mom had done only seconds before. After crossing the kitchen into the foyer, I hear his footfalls on the steps.

  “We think one of the cows is having twins,” he says, ignoring my awkwardness and starting right in on the conversation. “Dad’s worried something’s gonna go wrong or they’re gonna be runts, but we’ll see. He’s got me out there keeping watch, but that cow’s barely dilated. I’ve got plenty of time for a chat.” His mattress groans beneath him, and I can picture him sprawled across his unmade bed in his t-shirt and work pants. “So, what’s up?”

  I take a labored breath, psyching myself up for what I’ve been wanting to ask for weeks. But now that the opportunity has finally presented itself, I stumble.

  “I, um… I wanted to tell you I’m going to be competing in the regional chess invitational in Durham next month. A real tournament.” It comes out all in one breath, and I feel like a fraud. The chess competition is the last thing I want to talk to him about.

  “That’s amazing!” he gushes, and I’m placated by the warmth of his enthusiasm. “You’re big time now, girl. What do you get if you win?”

  “I have no idea,” I tell him. “I haven’t even thought about winning. I guess I would move on to the North Carolina state competition, but who knows. And it’s a long shot anyway. I’m not good enough to win.”

  He scoffs. “You are.”

  I tell him about Cameron and his obsession with figuring out how to win using unorthodox opening moves. “I beat my dad using Grob’s Attack. Cameron worked out this entire match and Dad played right into it.”

  “You’ll have to teach it to me, next time we play.”

  An uncomfortable silence follows since neither of us is positive if there’s ever going to be a ‘next time.’ There are no guarantees.

  “So, what’s going on with everyone at school? Anything exciting?” It’s a stupid question, but it’s all I’ve got.

  “All anyone’s talking about is prom. Prom this and prom that. It’s enough to make me wanna be homeschooled.”

  “It’s the same here,” I tell him, remembering Alice and Summer’s newest list, Eleven Reasons Never to Wear Chiffon. “Everyone’s lost their minds.”

  Zander clears his throat. “You going? I mean, did anyone ask you to go yet?” There’s an edge to his voice bordering on jealousy.

  Alice is planning to go with Marcus. They’ve been inseparable since the party at Calvin Watkins’, who coincidentally has been relegated to Alice’s B-list. Summer, of course, is going with her boyfriend, Travis, despite Alice’s objections. Leonetta and I are planning to go together. And then, there’s Cameron.

  “Nah. Probably a group of us going together. Leonetta, Summer, Alice…”

  “Oh,” he says mildly. “Just the girls.”

  “Something like that,” I say, without explaining specifics. “What about you guys? Are Claire and Will still together?”

  “Yeah. They’re disgusting. You should see them.”

  I laugh. “I’m sorta glad I don’t have to. It’s almost worth moving half-way across the country to miss it. What about Lacey? Is she still with Connor or has she moved on?”

  “Still with him, believe it or not. Those two deserve each other, though. Keep all the negativity in one place so the rest of us can steer clear.”

  Before leaving Iowa, I’d always imagined Zander and I might go to prom together as friends. Mostly because it would be fun but also because he’d look amazing in a tux, a native wildflower pinned to his lapel. A purple coneflower perhaps. The cows always devoured the wild varieties out in the field.

  “What about you,” I say before I’m sure I want to hear the answer.

  “Oh, me?” he stammers. “Yeah. I’m going. Judy Lewis asked, so whatever. I’ll go.”

  Immediately, I regret having inquired. I swallow hard, trying to dislodge the lump that’s taken up residence in my throat. Judy Lewis. Beautiful, smart, full-busted Judy Lewis. Imagining them on prom night together, his arm around her waist, her heaving bosom out in plain sight, turns my stomach.

  To keep myself from obsessing, I change the topic to the only other subject on my mind.

  “What happened to my cows?” I blurt out.

  There’s a pause full of strained silence. It hangs heavily between us, telling me everything I need to know without the aid of a single word. Zander will have nothing good to report.

  “Tess, does it really matter anymore?”

  I hold my breath. I don’t respond.

  “If I tell you, it’s not gonna make you feel better. It’s only gonna make you feel worse.”

  He’s right, of course, but I’ve made my peace with the herd being gone. I’ve overheard my dad’s phone calls. Seen letters in the mail from the auctioneer. I know the truth. I just need to hear it from him.

  “Tell me,” I say. My voice is clipped. Hushed.

  He sighs, unconvinced. “There, uh, was an auction last month, but you already knew that. Buncha guys came in from neighboring counties. There were even a few from outta state. The farm itself was sold to some young couple from Colorado. They didn’t want the cows though since their plan is to convert all the fields to corn for ethanol. They want to save the planet or something. Who the hell knows? Anyway, most of the herd was sold piecemeal to other dairy farms. A handful went to slaughter—they were too old to sell.”

  My gut seizes for a second time. I don’t know if I can bear any more sadness, but I have to know.

  “And Sunshine?”

  He makes a noise reminiscent of a cough. He’s trying to keep his composure.

  Because he can’t bring himself to tell me Sunshine’s dead.

  “She’s here. Here with me at our farm. She didn’t go for much. Only a few hundred bucks. Dad let me take a little outta my college fund to buy her.”

  I’m gobsmacked. I wipe tears I didn’t realize were falling with my sleeve. I have absolutely no response and keep sniffling into the phone. I can’t imagine why he would do it. Why he would take money away from his education for a stupid, worthless cow. A worthless cow no one else even wanted.

  No one else but me.

  “Thank you,” I whisper once I’ve steadied my breathing. “Why didn’t you tell me about all this before?”

  “Your dad made me promise not to say anything ‘til you asked. He said to give you time to come around on your own. And if you never asked, I was never supposed to tell you.”

  I’m not sure whether to be grateful or affronted by Dad’s foresight.

  “Does he know what you did? Does he know about Sunshine?”

  He hesitates. “No,” he says finally. “We didn’t tell him.”

  His voice, heavy with emotion, confirms his motivation for spending his hard-earned dollars on Sunshine. It was the same reason my dad kept her in the first place, long past her prime. Long past the age other farmers would have put her out to pasture.

  He kept her because he loves me.

  *

  That night back at my desk, I’m still trying to study for the stupid geometry test, but my mind keeps wandering to Zander. I turn the page of my spiral notebook, tucking the Pythagorean Theorem notes underneath to reveal a clean sheet of paper. At the top of the page I write:

  Eleven Reasons Why I Loved Being a Farm Girl

  1. The smell of freshly harvested wheat.

  2. Watching the barn cats chase crickets in the hay loft.

  3. Muddy boots.

  4. Watching the first rays of morning spill across the field from the top fence rail.

  5. Fresh milk.

  6. Dusty overalls.

  7. New life.

  8. The rumble of the combine.

  9. Frost on the corn stalks.

  10. Wet cow noses.

  11. Capturing the heart of a farm boy.

  chapter 22
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br />   Smothered and Covered

  Saturday, April 6

  “One for Resident Evil 6,” I tell the nondescript teenage girl behind the movie counter. She hands me my ticket, and I file into the theater behind Leonetta and the others. I can’t believe I’m paying good money to watch a movie based on a video game I’ve never played and probably never will. There’s no doubt the selection was made by Travis or Marcus, what with the flesh-eating zombies and scantily clad Milla Jovovich wielding a semi-automatic weapon on the marquee. Talk about being in the guys’ wheelhouse. Still, it was nice of Alice and Summer to invite Leonetta and me with them on their double date, so I won’t complain out loud about the guys’ horrible taste in films. At least I’m not sitting home by myself on a Saturday night.

  Ashley, of course, headed out early with a crew of friends to the bowling alley. She practically lives there on the weekends. More surprising was Mom and Dad’s reservation at the Japanese steakhouse for dinner, leaving me to fend for myself for the night. When Alice’s text came in, I’d been grateful for the invitation. There’s only so much homework a girl can do before she’s no longer able to keep the melancholy at bay.

  After stopping at concessions for extra-buttered popcorn, a pop, and Jujubes, I follow the others into the theater. Marcus chooses our row, way down in front, and Alice takes the seat beside him. They’re holding hands and talking quietly to one another in hushed tones and wordless gestures. It’s fun to witness this side of her, the part she reserves only for him, all giggly and nervous. Summer takes the seat beside Alice and, of course, Travis slides in beside her. Unlike Alice and Marcus who can’t keep their hands off each other, I haven’t heard Summer say two words to Travis since they pulled up in his pickup truck. The discord between them is palpable, as if they’re warring factions embroiled in a no-win standoff. Something must have gone down between them before they arrived, making me curious about what compels them to stay together, especially given his proclivity for cheating on her. It doesn’t make any sense.