Ridorkulous (Dorky Duet Book 1)

by Mary Frame

  Outside the building, I spy Duke heading in the opposite direction.

  When we reach each other, he stops to talk to me. “Hey. You look happy.”

  “I picked my major. Well, double major.”

  “What did you settle on?”

  “Math and physics.”

  “Wow.” His brows lift in surprise. “That’s amazing. You’re pretty smart, huh?”

  My face heats in sudden embarrassment. “I guess.”

  “No, don’t be shy. You should own your talents. It’s great. And you’re gonna need those smarts to win the competition tonight because I have my money on you, Einstein.” Duke smiles again and his dimple winks at me and he’s very cute and attentive but . . . my mind flickers back to yesterday in the barn with Fitz.

  Duke doesn’t make my heart race like Fitz does. And he can’t possibly be attracted to me like that. Maybe he just needs a friend. A weird one. Or help with calculus. He looks like one of those guys who’s just a big flirt and friendly to everyone. I’m sure it means nothing.

  “Where are you headed now? Are you hungry? I’m heading over to the grill for an early dinner. Want to join me?”

  I hesitate.

  “My treat, to celebrate your new life plan.”

  The old me would have run away from this whole conversation. Avoiding any possibility of being around people I barely know and—heaven forbid—socializing with them. But that was the old me. I’m turning over a new leaf. No more hiding.

  “Sure. Sounds great.”

  14

  Every hero doesn’t do this great big hero thing. They do the simple thing over and over, and they stick to it.

  —Matthew McConaughey

  Fitz

  “Did you tell Abby to call Martha? She still hasn’t heard from her.”

  I put the last box of my stuff in the back of my truck and close the tailgate. I can’t look at her with a lie on my tongue. “I told her.”

  I didn’t. I forgot. During my last conversation with Abby, I wasn’t exactly thinking about our mommas.

  “She’s okay, right?”

  “Of course. She’s good. Busy with school and stuff.” I turn to face her.

  She’s watching me with the look that mommas get, like they can see right through you and know everything you’ve ever done in your entire existence and even some things you’ve only thought of.

  “I think Martha’s overly protective,” she says after a moment passes. “But you know, that girl has a lot of ups and downs. Hot and cold. Skittish as a beat colt. Never able to handle any stress or hard changes. She’s been that way since she was little and she ain’t gonna change. Tom wasn’t around enough. I know it’s helped them financially, but it took a toll on Abby.”

  Uncomfortable with talking about Abby and keeping our breakup a secret, I change the subject and walk with her back up to the house. “Did Annabel already get her things?”

  “She came by yesterday. I know you kids are upset about us moving, but it’s time.”

  “I know. I wish I could help you more.”

  “Your sister said the same thing.” Her smile is fond and a little weepy around the edges. “You kids are the best thing I ever did. You can help me by doing good in school and making sure you call me every Sunday. And you and Annabel can come visit us in Florida. Grandma’s house is walking distance to the beach.”

  I nod and agree and give her a hug. God, she feels so tiny in my arms. What will it be like when she’s gone?

  By the time I get back to Jude’s, it’s nearly time for supper.

  I find all of my roommates in the kitchen, Jude at the stove. Reese is next to him, chopping something at the counter. It should have been Reese’s night to cook, but since we went to Granny’s last night, she switched with Jude. It appears she’s still helping though.

  “Fitz!” Jude bellows as soon as I enter the kitchen. “You are in for a treat tonight. I’m making Jude Parker’s famous chili.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “There will be plenty since Ms. Reese here already ate dinner and will not be partaking with the rest of us. You can tell her how much she’s missing out on.”

  Reese rolls her eyes. Jude holds out his hand and she passes him a large spoon.

  He stirs the pot and eyes me out of the corner of his eyes. “A little birdie told me our little Tootsie Roll here went to dinner with a Mr. Duke Wilson.”

  Her cheeks flush and she busies herself with cleaning something in the sink.

  “Duke?” I ask, instead of what I really want to ask, which is, Who the hell is Duke? And why is she blushing over him?

  And why am I suddenly punchy about Reese eating dinner with some guy?

  “Well, babies.” Jude puts a lid on the pot and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes and people are gonna be arriving shortly thereafter. Time for me to get beautiful.”

  Reese shuts the tap off on the sink and grabs the towel from Jude. “Do I have to wear anything special tonight?”

  “Not unless you want to. Nothing messy will be happening, though, at least not on you. You’re gonna love it.”

  She smirks at him. “You keep saying that, and yet . . .”

  “What? You cannot tell me you aren’t having the time of your life, Tootsie Roll.”

  She laughs and flicks at him with the towel. She’s different. Relaxed. Happy. Is it because of this Duke character? Is Duke butt-chin man? And why does it bother me so much?

  I shove the thoughts away. I have to focus for the next challenge.

  An hour later, I’ve eaten and changed and I’m out in the backyard with the rest of the crowd, awaiting further instruction.

  Wading through the crush, I eventually find Reese in what I’ve determined is her spot, off to the side of the yard near the bushes.

  The giant tarp is back. Except this time instead of chutes and ladders, it’s a large grid of lettered squares and it’s all roped off from the rest of the yard.

  “What is this?” Reese asks when I make my way next to her. “Any ideas?”

  “Could be anything. Jude is a man of many surprises.”

  “He really is.”

  We share a smile and watch the crowd gather together in comfortable silence.

  After a few minutes, a strange bleating resonates over the hum of the crowd along with the jangle of . . . bells? We both turn in time to see Beast leading in three baby cows from around the side of the house.

  “Is this . . . cow-pie bingo?” I ask, looking at the grid of letters in a new light.

  Jude appears from out of nowhere, holding a hand out to Reese, the megaphone clutched in his other hand. “Ms. Reese, you have the key?”

  She pulls it from around her neck and hands it over.

  And then Jude is on. “Babies! Listen up! You all know this game. We couldn’t get any big steers back here without violating about ten county laws and tearing the place up, but the rules are the same. Our competitors will each pick out their squares. Instead of spelling Bingo, we’ll be spelling Jude.”

  The crowd laughs and someone yells out, “You the man, Jude!”

  “I won’t deny it, babies. Reese, Fitz, you can take turns choosing your squares and since Reese is the reigning champ, she goes first. There are twenty in total so you each get ten.”

  It doesn’t take long to pick our squares out and then Jude nods at Beast. “Y’all ready?”

  The crowd screams.

  “Release the calves!”

  At his words, Beast releases the cows onto the tarp, tying the rope off once they’re all in.

  All three are a light reddish brown, indistinguishable from each other except their bells are all different colors. The one with the red bell runs back and forth along the fence line. The other two, one with a blue bell and one green, chase each other near the middle of the roped-off area.

  They’re kinda cute to watch for the first couple of minutes, but then they settle down, sniffing at the roped-off fence
in between playful bouts with each other.

  “This is rather anticlimactic,” I tell Jude when he approaches us, watching the baby bovines frolic.

  Jude is unconcerned. “They’re adorable though, aren’t they?”

  The one in the blue bell is right next to us, and it decides at that moment to drop a steaming pile of crap.

  In one of the squares I selected.

  “Yes!” I crow. “I have a U.”

  “That’s one letter for Fitz Moreland!” Jude calls out.

  Reese purses her lips for a second, then stalks over to the other side of the tarp and starts talking softly to one of the calves and whistling at it.

  “Hey, no interfering with the cows, that’s cheating!” I call over to her.

  “Jude never said we couldn’t entice the calves to one of our squares.”

  “She’s right,” Jude says. “Cows are stubborn creatures, anyway, she won’t get it to—”

  “I have a J!” she calls out.

  “Well, I’ll be.”

  And so, we spend the next twenty minutes cajoling the cows to various squares in the hopes they’ll poop and get us the letters we need. We’re at a tie, each only needing one final letter.

  “If you come over here, cow, I’ll never eat veal again,” I say to the cow with the red bell.

  “Moo,” he responds.

  “Stop bribing the calves.”

  “You started it.”

  Our bickering gets the cow all twitchy and then he poops. And it’s right in the square I need.

  “I have a D!” I lift both hands in the air.

  “We have a winner for the fourth round of Bedlam!” Jude announces into the megaphone.

  People cheer and crowd toward me. Jude hands off the key, and I catch a glimpse of Reese’s back as she disappears toward the house.

  Where is she going?

  A few guys clap me on the back with offers of beer, but I wave them off and follow the path Reese made. I don’t want her to leave. I want to talk to her more, see what she thinks now that we’re tied in the competition. And I just . . . want to be around her.

  I catch up with her near the back door. “Hey, I know I interfered with your time in the room when you won, and I wanted to let you know I’m willing to share.”

  Her cheeks flush before I realize how that sounds. “I mean, not like share like that, but you know the way we did . . . before.” I grimace and rub the back of my head. “This isn’t coming out right.”

  She laughs. “I get what you’re saying, and while I appreciate the offer, I think I’ll take the floor if it’s okay with you.”

  “The floor?”

  “Yeah. I can scrounge up some extra blankets and pillows, make it real cozy. You’ll have to make sure you don’t step on my head.”

  “Right.” I pull the key over my head and hand it to her.

  She blinks, surprised.

  “So you can get in now, if you want.”

  Her mouth opens but before she can answer, revelers step between us, shouting and laughing and pushing at each other.

  When they finally move past us and into the house, she’s gone.

  By the time I make it to bed, Reese is already in there, on the floor like she said.

  The Christmas lights are on, and her eyes are open.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  I step over her carefully, getting on the bed before tugging my shirt over my head.

  Making a lady sleep on the floor while I have the bed gives me a sick stomach, and I tell her as much.

  “You won fair and square. If I had won, I wouldn’t be feeling any guilt. I might be reveling in my win, actually.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, you’re a big gloater. It still seems wrong, I mean you’re a . . .”

  “Girl? That’s sexist.”

  I chuckle. “I know, I know. Still, this whole situation is basically my fault.”

  “It wasn’t just you. Abby had a lot to do with it.” Her voice is hesitant.

  I lie back on the bed, sinking into a heavy pause while anxiety and awkwardness at the mention of Abby float in the air above us. She continues in a rush, “And to be honest, if I had stuck up for myself or said something to someone when she first started causing problems, I might not be here right now. So really, there isn’t any one person to blame.”

  My body tenses as she speaks and I have to force myself to relax. Part of me has known for a while now that Abby isn’t the kindest person, but having it confirmed is like an extra sucker punch just when you think the fight is over. “It’s okay, you can talk about Abby. I’m not holding on to any false illusions about who she was. Is. Who she is. I guess I’m embarrassed I had my head stuck in the mud as long as I did.”

  “It was nothing truly awful. I mean, she said awful things, but it was mostly passive-aggressive stuff. She didn’t, like, put black dye in my toothpaste or fire ants in my pillowcase.”

  That makes me chuckle. “Well thank God for that.”

  “I’m just saying, you have nothing to feel bad for. You aren’t her.”

  “Yeah, but I was with her for years. I defended her. Let her suck me into her bullshit.”

  She shuffles on the floor and then her head appears at eye level. “You aren’t responsible for someone else’s bad behavior. No matter your relation to them.”

  Something tight in my gut unclenches. It’s a freeing thought, not being responsible for Abby anymore. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Besides, it’s nothing I’m not used to.” She lies back down, her head disappearing. “It’s just that I never had to live with a bully before. It was harder to ignore, but I managed.”

  And there goes my gut, clenching again. “What do you mean? When were you bullied?”

  “It was, you know, silly kid stuff in high school.”

  “Wait. Didn’t you go to Blue Falls?”

  “Yeah.”

  I can’t believe that Reese has lived this life in Blue Falls, this existence that’s so separate from my reality, and I never knew. Never saw her. Never stepped in for her. “Who picked on you?”

  She sighs. “It wasn’t a big deal. Once I learned how to be invisible, they stopped.”

  Now I’m not sure what’s worse, that she’s so pragmatic about having to hide who she is, or the fact that I can’t go back in time and do something about it. “Who is they?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, because if they’re still around, I can find them and scissor kick them in the face.”

  She laughs.

  “What’s funny?”

  “It’s mighty kind of you, Fitz, but really it’s nothing to be concerned about. There were some snide comments and laughter at my expense, but it didn’t last long. I’m sure it’s because I started school late and had no idea how to act around people.”

  At Granny’s, just the other night, everyone laughed at Reese’s discomfort. More guilt wiggles its way inside me. “Why is that?”

  “I spent most of my life at home studying and having private tutors, but after I turned fifteen my parents made me go to school. They said I needed to be socialized. They weren’t wrong. But I leaned quickly it was best to stay under the radar. Especially since college started and I’ve had to live amongst all you normies.” Her voice is teasing, and I use that glimmer of humor to smother the tension simmering inside me, the sadness at how Reese has been treated and the helplessness at not being able to change any of it. At least not in the past. But in the here and now? And the future?

  “Normies, huh?” I ask. “Does that include me?”

  “Yep. You’re a total normie. Popular, athletic, handsome.”

  “You think I’m handsome?”

  Silence. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone there but I can’t stop the smirk on my face spreading into a full-blown smile. “I bet you’re so red right now.”

  “At least I didn’t say you’re not unattractive.” She deepens her voice to imitate my speech, making me laugh.

>   The more she talks, the more she reveals these little pieces of herself, the more I want to know. So I have to ask, “Why did they wait so long to put you in school? You’ve lived in Blue Falls your whole life, right?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know. I think initially, they thought tutors would be best for their lifestyle. Sometimes we would travel with them and a nanny, of course, but most of the time Scarlett watched over me. I never really had kids my own age to play with. I wasn’t a normal kid right off the bat though. I never really played like kids do in the mud or whatever. I mostly wanted to read.”

  I laugh. “Not all of us were like Begonia as kids. We did more than just roll around in the mud.”

  “You know what I mean, I’ve watched those family movies. Kids are always playing sports, riding bikes, going to the park. I didn’t like the park, it was a death trap.”

  I crack up. “A death trap?”

  “Seriously, plunging down a metal slide onto cement? Rotating hunks of metal with chipping paint? A jungle gym that has likely been the cause of numerous broken bones and ER visits?”

  “Granny wasn’t kidding about the helmet, was she?”

  Her voice is full of laughter. “That wasn’t even the half of it. I blame Scarlett. One time I fell and skinned my knee under her watch and Granny got so spittin’ mad I thought Scarlett would cry for a full year. She never let me do anything even remotely dangerous after that. She would tell me stories about kids falling and breaking their heads open just by walking around outside.”

  “That’s funny. My dad loved to freak us out when we were kids. You know those yellow signs with pictures of cows on the side of the road? When there’s open-range steer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He would tell Annabel and I those were warnings for carnivorous cows.”

  She laughs. “And you believed him?”

  “I was six.”

  Once her chuckles die down, she asks, “Is your dad okay?”

  Thoughts of my parents send a pang down my spine. But I brush it off. “Yeah. He’s fine. He’s . . . he got hurt at work and has been out on workers’ comp. Momma tries to downplay it, but I think it’s worse than they’re letting on. He sleeps all the time. I barely see him anymore. And now they have to sell their house.”