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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dalton
After practice, I head to the FFA area in search of Natalie. Maya’s right. The only way I’m going to get this paper done is if I make her talk to me.
As I turn the corner, I spot her working.
“We need to talk,” I state as my hello as I approach her.
“No, we don’t.”
I grab the shovel she reaches for before she can grab it herself.
“Give me the shovel.” She holds her hand out to me.
“Give me something I can write in my paper.” I raise my eyebrows at her.
She drops her hand and takes a big inhale. “Fine.” She thinks for a second, then looks back to me. “I took a class last year that taught me how to give a hand massage.”
I raise my eyebrows at her in question. “A hand massage?”
She forcefully grabs the shovel from me. “Yes. A hand massage. My dad had to have surgery on his hand, and the therapist said it would help, so I learned how to do it so I could massage his hand three times a day to help his healing. And guess what. It helped a ton. So, that’s something no one really knows that you can put in this stupid paper.”
“What kind of surgery did he have?”
She starts shoveling, and when my foot suddenly gets doused in dirt, she doesn’t bother looking up as she talks. “He injured it while working at the ranch. They thought for a second that he might not be able to grip anything ever again. Obviously, that would be devastating to someone who works with their hands.” She pauses and gives me an incredulous expression. “And I don’t mean by typing away on a computer. I mean actual work.”
I grab the shovel from her. “Stop saying stupid shit like that. I’m not my dad.”
“Yet you’ve never really worked a day in your life.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry that I haven’t? Most people would call me lucky.”
“Lucky until something happens and you realize you don’t have the life skills to live off the land. What would you do if you had to survive without your phone and DoorDash?”
“Funny since I never order DoorDash. Dinner is always ready when I get home.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve heard about the chef who cooks for your family. Must be nice.”
“Don’t be jealous. It’s not a good look.”
“Neither is a man who doesn’t know how to provide.”
My lips tilt in a slight grin. “Oh, I provide just fine.”
She hits my shoulder as she walks by me. “Get over yourself.”
I follow after her. “I need more about you.”
She stops short, and I have to do the same quickly so I don’t smack into her.
“I’ll make you a deal. On your little run tonight, come across the creek and let me test my theory on you. I’ll tell you all about me as I watch you try to fix the fence. I bet you won’t be able to do it, and I’ll write my paper on the fact that you’re hardly a man.”
I look straight into her eyes. “I’ll prove you so wrong, and then I’ll just make up shit about you for this paper, andanythingI write, you have to tell the teacher it’s the truth. Then, I’ll give you things you can write about me.”
“You got yourself a deal.”
She turns and heads back to the workshop as I go in the opposite direction toward my truck, conversation over.
