Page 8 of Out of Place

Aunt Dottie takes in my outfit. “Cam, I’m sure she’s got some jeans.” I stare at her as she cocks her head to the side. “You have jeans, don’t you? And work boots?”

“I have a pair of Gucci jeans that I wore to an event last year.” I look down at my feet. “But these are my only boots.” Because, like a normal person, I don’t typically wear boots in the summer.

Laughter comes from the table, but I don’t look to see who it’s coming from. They can laugh all they want. The opinions of three farm boys mean nothing to me. Get in, get the job done, get out. That’s my plan.

“Those are not boots,” Camden says.

“That’s ok, hun,” Aunt Dottie says. “We’ll get you to Walmart later and fix you up with everything you need.”

“Walmart?” I practically choke on the word. I’ve never set foot in a Walmart in my life, much less worn clothes from there. That would destroy my reputation if it got out.

“Yeah. There’s one right down the road. We’ll get you set up.”

My parents are actually trying to kill me.

“Can you show me my room? I’m exhausted.” Really, I just need to get away from these people. This is all a little too much, but I refuse to cry in front of everyone.

Aunt Dottie studies me a moment before a smile spreads across her face. “Alright. I’ll let you rest today, but tomorrow, you’re jumping right in.”

I swallow. Jumping right into what exactly? I feel three sets of eyes on me, so I keep my question to myself, deciding it might be better if I don’t know what’s coming.

I follow her up the stairs. She opens a door on the right of the hallway and ushers me in. The first thing I notice is how much wood is in this room. It’s overwhelming. There’s all different shades of it, too. “This’ll be your room. Bathroom is across the hall.”

The bed has a wooden frame and is made up with an atrocious floral bedspread, the dresser is made out of cherry wood, and a small desk by the window is made of, you guessed it, wood. There’s even a picture of a tractor hanging up over the bed. A fucking tractor. It’s all very, um, depressing.

Serena would say quaint, but I can’t. I just can’t. This is a far cry from my lavish white and gold-accented room back home. There’s barely room to move around in here.

It feels stuffy as hell in here, or maybe I’m having a panic attack. This is all too fucking much.

Aunt Dottie looks around. “Did you bring any suitcases?”

“Yeah. I left them outside for now. I’ll go get them.”

“I can have one of the boys help you bring ’em up.”

I’d rather die than have one of those dirty boys touch my designer suitcases. “It’s ok. I’ll get them.”

She nods. “There’re sandwiches in the kitchen if you’re hungry. I’ll let you get settled.”

She leaves me alone in this terrible room. I walk over to the one window that overlooks the back of the house.

It looks like. . . a farm. There are animals behind fences but also meandering around. There are flowery-looking things and other buildings, which I assume are barns. It stretches on for miles. There’s not an office building or skyscraper in sight. It’s just land. It’s gross and boring, and I feel so out of place.

I’m a city girl. I belong in a city.

I sigh. There’s no point in having a pity party. I’ve got to do this and prove to my parents that I can be a real adult. So, I’ll do it fast and then go home. Easy peasy.

I walk down the stairs and out to the dirt driveway where I left my suitcases.

To my absolute horror, all three smelly guys have made their way to the front yard. They all stand around one of the trucks, looking at something and talking quietly.

I pretend they aren’t there and walk right past them. Grabbing one of my suitcases, I roll it to the front door. The first problem I encounter happens when I try to go up the stairs. I may have overpacked a bit, so the case is a lot heavier than I expect. I try to drag it, but it doesn’t budge.

I feel them staring at me again.

“Need some help?” Landon asks.

“No,” I grunt out.