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My skin prickles as chilly wind sneaks underneath my fleece and combs through my hair.
Any discomfort fades from my mind as I look down at Dusty’s loping strides eating up the sandy dirt. The familiar scenery of Matthews Farm flashes by in a blur of color.
I may not have a lot of things, but I have this.
The rest of my chores drag. Partly because I don’t have my usual ride to look forward to after they’re finished. But mostly because I’m overflowing with apprehension about seeing Caleb tonight.
I finish feeding the stallions their dinner, and head inside. Gramps is back from his outing. I head to the kitchen sink first to wash the grime off my hands. Gramps leans over to kiss the top of my head as he pokes at what I think is soup on the stove.
“Good day?” he asks as I dry my hands on the threadbare towel hanging on the stove door.
“It was fine,” I respond. “Newspaper meeting ran long. I’ve got a new article to finish for the next issue.”
“Oh, really?” Gramps frowns at the bubbling liquid he’s stirring.
“Uh-huh,” I confirm, brushing past him to grab two bowls from the kitchen cabinet.
“What’s the article about?”
I sigh. “Baseball. It’s an interview with Caleb Winters.”
“They assigned that to you?” Gramps raises his grizzled eyebrows in surprise. He’s well aware of my distaste for both the sport and the boy.
“Yes.”
“Huh,” is all Gramps says at first. “Might be good for you, Lennie. A chance to branch out.”
It’s exactly what I expect him to say. Gramps is a perennial optimist. Part of why I’m such a pessimist. Together, we represent some semblance of actual reality.
“I guess. I don’t have a choice, really. I need to stay on the school paper if I want to work for theGazette.”
Gramps purses his lips, the same way he does every time the topic of my fall plans comes up. “Dinner is ready. You ready to eat now?”
“Yeah, I am.” I hesitate. “I have to meet Caleb for the interview tonight.”
Gramps does a remarkable job of hiding his surprise. Me meeting a boy at night? Even for a school assignment? Unheard of. “Well then, let’s eat.”
“What are we having?” I ask, a little apprehensively.
Gramps chuckles. “Potato soup.”
Well, that explains the unappetizing color, I guess. I ladle some soup in one bowl and give it a tentative sniff. Not bad.
Before Gramps injured his hip last year, we used to share in the barn and household chores. Now that he’s significantly less mobile, I’ve almost entirely taken over caring for the horses, leaving Gramps to handle the cooking and cleaning, for the most part. It’s far from a perfect set-up but we’ve managed to make it work.
As soon as we finish dinner, I take a shower and change into clean clothes. Hair still dripping, I pull out my phone. Caleb said to call. So, in a small attempt at revolution, I text the number I memorized instead of paying attention during the paper meeting.
Lennon:Free whenever.
Immediately, I second-guess my choice of words. But before I have time to overanalyze for too long, he replies.
Caleb:I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.
I didn’t expect him to respond so quickly. Or at all.
I rush downstairs.
“I’m, uh, I’m going to head out,” I tell Gramps, grabbing my backpack from the corner of the kitchen where I dropped it earlier. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
