I closed my eyes for a minute, grateful for the warm water relaxing my muscles. No more thinking about protestors. I wanted to think about things besides business today.
Mom had decided to start her first garden. We’d never had one before—it had never made sense to do one, since by the time the garden would bloom, we would move and someone else would get to enjoy the flowers.
But Mom decided to go for it this time, and planned to document the garden’s growth and turn it into a photojournalism piece.
Photography was her first love, but she wanted to take writing classes to pen articles to accompany all her photos. She had tried talking me into a writing or photography class this summer. She knew I felt lost and wanted to find my “thing.” My gut told me I wasn’t going to find what I was looking for in a classroom.
Yesterday, during a break from working for Dad, I’d met Mom in town. Together, we had shopped for garden supplies. Everyone had looked at us, but no one had approached Mom or me. No one except the older woman who owned the store. She introduced herself to us and helped Mom find everything she needed for her garden. After a pleasant experience in town, I think Mom felt much better about me going into town by myself.
The sound of a hawk overhead jerked me out of my thoughts. I looked down at Mom and grinned. She was intently reading a bulb packet and muttering to herself. She stuck her hand in the hole she had dug, pulled out the bulb and turned it over. Like that poor plant had a chance of growing upside down. I laughed and twisted my hair into a knot, getting the dripping ends out of the water.
My phone rang on the table and I leaned over and swiped it off the stand.
“Kate!” I said into the phone, greeting my older sister.
“You’re not lost in the wilderness, are you?” she asked. “If you are, I’m sorry to say I can’t help you.”
I laughed. “I never expected you to save me from the woods. But isn’t LA like a concrete jungle?”
“I guess,” she said. “I went to report on a star sighting at the Ivy and it was supposed to be an exclusive and all these other people from, like, Entertainment Now were there.”
Disdain dripped from her voice when she said Entertainment Now. Competition among the networks was fierce. Last summer, she had visited us while she was on vacation and had yelled at me because I’d flicked on EN for five seconds. It wasn’t my fault that only EN had the Sean Houston exclusive, but Kate didn’t agree.
“Did you get the scoop anyway?” I asked, lazily swirling my fingers in the water. Mom was still planting and it seemed like she got the hang of it now. She was no longer flopping dirt from one freshly dug hole into the next.
A rush of voices flooded the background and that had to be the Access lot. Kate had told me stories of the dozens of people running around to meet the show’s daily deadline. It was a pressure-packed job.
“Yeah, I got it,” she said, sounding far away and suddenly distracted. “Listen, I’ve got to run, but tell Mom I got my vacation days changed. I can come visit you guys in July instead of waiting until Thanksgiving.”
“Great!” I said, excited, since I hadn’t seen her in months. “Miss you.”
“Miss you and love you!” Kate said, hanging up.
I plunked the phone back on the table and half stood in the hot tub. The cool spring air gave me goose bumps and I sank back down in the water. “Mom!” I yelled.
She lifted her head and pulled off a dirty glove, shading her eyes. “What?”
“Kate’s coming home before the holidays!” I called down to her. “She said she could come in July.”
“Wonderful!” she said.
Even though it was mid-March, Mom would be thrilled from now until then. She’d start getting a room ready for Kate and would be buzzing around the house talking about how she missed having Kate at home.
After an hour of pruning in the warm water, I couldn’t sit still any longer. I headed for my bathroom and hopped inside the glass shower, bikini and all. After I’d showered, I towel-dried my hair and let it hang loose at my shoulders.
Ever since my day with Logan, I’d sort of been keeping one ear open for a far-off sound of an ATV. I wasn’t expecting him to pull up in my driveway—that was a definite no that we had established when he had offered to take me home that afternoon. It had been four days ago when he had dropped me off just before my driveway, and I had walked the short distance home. I’d been greeted by my parents and they had asked how my day had gone. I picked out a couple of things that I’d done with Logan and made it sound as though I had gone exploring by myself.
I pulled myself out of the memory and tugged a three-quarter-sleeve waffle knit shirt over my head and stepped into an airy peasant skirt. I dabbed on strawberry lip gloss and ran a bronzer over my cheekbones. My reflection wasn’t half bad. My shoulder-length hair hung in dark waves around my shoulders and the bronzer made my green eyes pop.
Something swirled deep in my stomach. Again, it felt as though everyone had found their niche except me. Kate was on TV. Logan had horses. Mom had photography. Dad had work. This summer had to be different than before—I had to stop working for Dad in three-day sprints and start finding something that I was passionate about. If I wanted to find myself—as lame as that sounded—it wasn’t going to happen while I sat in a hot tub.
CHAPTER NINE
A man is not born a cowboy. He becomes one.
Out of breath and trying not to look sweaty, I parked my bike outside of Watson’s. I’d passed WyGas on the way and had lingered for a moment, looking for Logan’s truck. But it wasn’t there.
Inside Watson’s, Amy bagged groceries at the register. I live here now. This is the only grocery store in town. Ignoring her, I went to the back of the store and got a Diet Coke. I waited until there wasn’t anyone else in line before going up to the register.
“Just this,” I said, thrusting a five at her.
Amy took the money and put the change back on my waiting open palm.
“Thanks,” I said. I opened my drink and walked away.
“Um, Brie?” Amy called.
I put my hand on the exit door, ready to push it open, but turned around, facing her. “What?”
“I wanted to apologize again,” Amy said. She tucked her black hair behind her ears. “I was a total bitch to you.”
I stayed silent, just staring at her.
“I did a lot of thinking after that happened,” Amy said. “Actually, you acted so much classier than I would have if somebody had talked like that about my dad,” Amy continued. “If I were you, I probably would have hit me.”
I almost smiled. Sincerity radiated through her voice and I could tell how sorry she was. This was her second apology. How many more times was I going to make her say that she was sorry? There was something about Amy that I couldn’t help but like.
“Thanks,” I said. “It was cool of you to apologize again.”
“Are you doing anything now?”
I shook my head. “No, I was just going home.”
“My shift was over ten minutes ago,” Amy said. “I was just working until Casey got here to take over.”
As if on cue, a curly-haired brunette jogged through Watson’s automatic doors. She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Amy! I’ll stay late tomorrow.”
“It’s okay, Case,” Amy said. “See you tomorrow.”
Amy turned to me. “Do you want to get coffee or dessert or something and maybe talk?”
Her offer caught me off guard. I’d planned to slip in and out of Watson’s.
“Sure,” I said, finally.
Amy took off her Watson’s smock and slung it over her shoulder. A cerulean-blue cross-body purse went on the other shoulder. “Do you like coffee?” she asked.
“I like it enough to think it should be added to the food chain,” I said.
“Then I think you’ll like Beans,” she said. “It’s not like the chain coffee shops that you’re probably used to, though.”
I shook my hea
d. “I’m so not a coffee snob. I don’t care whether it’s instant coffee or Colombian beans—I just want the caffeine in my body.”
Amy laughed. We crossed Main Street, which was—shocker—empty. Not a car visible in either direction.
We walked inside Beans and the coffee shop was just about the size of our kitchen. There were three small circular tables and square and rectangle ones along the window. All of them were filled, with the exception of one of the booths by the window.
We ordered, got our drinks—both skinny vanilla lattes—and snagged the free seats.
I took a sip of coffee, then another.
“Oh, this is some of the best coffee that I’ve ever had,” I said. “I’m going to buy this place out!”
“So weird!” Amy said. “My mom says that I’m going to do that. She’s also sure that I’ve stunted my growth. Since she’s worrying about something as trivial as an inch or two of my height, I’m so an only child. Obviously.”
“I’ve been the only child at home for the past few years, too. Well, kind of. My big sister, Kate, moved to LA several years ago and it’s just been my dad, my mom, and me ever since. My parents are kind of the opposite in the parent department. My mom’s a photographer and really into her career. Not in a bad way, she still pays plenty of attention to me. My da—”
I stopped and looked down at the table. I took sip after sip of coffee, trying not to look at Amy.
“Hey, I’ll say it one more time—I really am sorry that I said those things to you. I thought about it a lot every day since then. I can’t imagine how I would feel if people decided whether or not they like me based on my dad’s job. He’s a mechanic, by the way—I’m sure plenty of people would look down on that.”
“We didn’t come here to start a war. My dad will build the hotel, and before you know it we’ll be gone and on to the next town.”
Amy rested her chin on her upraised palm. “Have you ever lived in the South?”
“Like Kentucky, Tennessee, Florida—that South?” I asked. “Pretty much all of the South except for Mississippi and Arkansas, I think. Oh, not Alabama, either.”
“Omigod! You are so lucky!” Amy’s fair cheeks flushed and she almost bounced up and down in her seat. “I’m obsessed with the South and everything southern. You should see my room. I love scouring eBay for odd pieces that represent the South. I got these amazing wall decals that are—oh, wait.” She rummaged through her purse on the bench and pulled out her phone. After a few clicks, she handed it to me.
“Wow!” I said, pinching the phone screen to zoom in on the space above her bed. “The black-and-white prints of fruit and southern hot spots are amazing. The Tennessee mountain range is a great one. Your room looks like a southern belle lives there.”
Amy beamed. “Stop, you’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not! Why would I lie?”
Amy’s bedspread was a lace-lined baby blue. An empty birdcage hung in the left-hand corner. She had a wrought-iron white headboard. Next to the top of the bed were white, shabby chic nightstands. They had matching lamps that were yellow glass.
I handed Amy back her phone. “So a few minutes ago, you said I was ‘lucky’ that I got to travel the South, but looking at your room—it looks like you’ve lived there until yesterday.”
Amy shook her head. “Nope, I, um, I haven’t been out of Wyoming.”
I worked really hard not to let my shock at her lack of travel to anywhere show on my face. “Judging by your room, I would have guessed that you were a Kentucky or Louisiana transplant. But what really tipped me off was your voice.”
“My voice?” Amy asked.
“Yeah, right away I heard the slightest southern twang. I can’t place the state, but I know I’ve heard it before.”
Amy covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes got so wide it looked as if they were about to pop out of her sockets.
“Oh. My. God,” Amy said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it. You—someone who has probably traveled almost everywhere on the planet—heard a twang in my voice!”
“Where did it come from?”
“I’ve sort of been listening to stuff on my iPod that actors use before a film so their voices are able to change from like a French accent to a New York one.”
“Cool,” I said, smiling. “You obviously want to go to college in the South.”
“Yeees,” Amy said. “I have to get out of Lost Springs. I love it, I do. But I want more than this. I especially want to try living in a place where I feel as though I should have been born and raised there. A place where I can visit an actual store instead of buying almost everything I own from eBay. A town with nearby shopping centers.”
I liked this girl. Who would have known that I would meet someone here I would actually like hanging out with.
“Forget where you were born,” Amy said. “Where do you think you belong?”
I opened my mouth and my jaw moved up and down, but nothing came out. I stared at Amy and shrugged. “I don’t know where I belong,” I said. “But I don’t think it was at any of the places that I’ve lived.”
“Can you tell me about them?” Amy asked.
“Sure.”
That kicked off an hour-and-a-half conversation that had us wired from three coffees each by the time we finished chatting. We left the shop with plans to meet up again for coffee soon.
CHAPTER TEN
Never miss a good chance to shut up.
Logan’s truck wasn’t in the WyGas lot, but I leaned my bike against a metal rack and went inside anyway. Technically, I was on a “lunch break” from Dad’s office—I was just choosing to spend it looking for Logan.
A guy with dark curls smiled at me from behind the counter. He looked around Kate’s age.
“Hi,” I said. Suddenly, I felt shy about asking my question. I picked up a packet of gum, pretending to be fascinated with the label. Half of me was scared the guy was a wildlife extremist, too, and would say something awful to me, and the other half was a little embarrassed to ask about Logan.
“Can I help you find anything?” the guy asked. Not an ounce of weirdness or anger in his tone. Whew.
“No. Well, um, maybe. Is Logan around?” I forced out the words before I changed my mind.
“He’s off today. He’s watching his little brother.”
My shoulders sagged a little. This morning, I’d put extra time into choosing a cute yellow top and pleated white skirt. I would spend the rest of the day in cute clothes shut inside Dad’s trailer.
“Okay, thanks,” I said. “I’ll come back another time.” I put down the gum and headed for the door.
“Hey,” the guy called after me. “Tell me your name and I’ll tell you where to find Logan.”
I turned slowly back to face him. “Brie.”
“Nice to meet you.” He reached out a hand to me. I walked back and took his hand. “I’m Jerry,” he said. “You know where Black Creek is?”
“I don’t,” I said.
He motioned me over and used his finger to draw an invisible map on the counter. “Logan said he’d be taking Holden there today. Okay, go straight out of here and take the first right. You’re going to follow a one-lane dirt road for about a mile and then you’ll come to a clearing. Keep walking straight and you can’t miss the creek.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I owe you one.”
Jerry waved me out of WyGas. I climbed on my bike and yanked my skirt up over my knees, determined not to get it caught in the bike’s chain. With Jerry’s directions echoing in my head, I headed for Black Creek.
A short while later, I braked at a grassy, overgrown clearing that had to be the one Jerry had talked about. I laid my bike in the grass and followed what looked like a recently trampled path to Black Creek.
Clear, gently flowing water swept over the rocks, and the muted sunlight hit the creek bed in random places and made the rocks dazzle like black diamonds. The water was only a couple of feet deep and it looked like the
re were tracks on the other side. I kicked off my white flip-flops and held them in one hand. I dipped my toe in the water.
“Ahh!” The water was freezing! Tugging up my skirt, I thrust my feet into the water, stepping quickly over the sparkling rocks. “Ah! Ah! Cold!” I yelped to no one. When I got to the other side, I slid my chilly feet into my flip-flops and they squished as I followed the trail.
The forest was quiet except for the occasional bird. I tried not to let myself wonder about the bears, bobcats, and coyotes Logan had insisted inhabited the forest, but the sunlight cast strange shadows over the trees and I started eyeing each shadow with growing suspicion. If I didn’t find Logan in five minutes, I was going home. Water splashed up ahead. Please, please let that be Logan and not a fishing bear. Dousing myself with jasmine body spray probably hadn’t been the best idea. I tiptoed along Black Creek’s bank and peered ahead, half expecting to see a ravenous bear.
Instead, it was Logan and a little boy who could have been Logan’s younger twin, with the same flaxen blond hair, wide eyes, and golden skin. Holden covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed at Logan, who was balanced precariously on a small boulder and juggling three rocks. I’d come here with the intention to hang out with Logan. But now it felt like an intrusion on their family moment. Logan doesn’t get much time off to hang with his brother, I said to myself. You should have realized that before you came.
I turned around to leave. As I started to walk away, my flip-flop caught on an upraised root and I tripped and fell on my knees. A few sticks cracked under my palms.
“Hello?” Logan called.
“It’s Brie,” I said, waving from my spot on the ground.
“Stay here,” Logan said to Holden, who nodded and didn’t move as Logan picked his way across the creek bed and jogged over to me. I sat on my butt and saw pebbles embedded in my knees. My poor skirt was streaked with dirt.
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