The Challenge(9)

“My father says they haven’t changed the records here since he was a kid. They’re practically prehistoric,” he said in a friendly tone. “Some of them are okay though, oldies but goodies.” He felt awkward talking to her, but she was so pretty, he felt like he had to say something at least, standing next to her.

“They’re from my dad’s day too.” She smiled at him. “Do you want a go?” She pointed at the machine, before she put another quarter in.

“Thanks,” he said, put a quarter in, played three songs, and then let her drop another coin in as they stood smiling shyly at each other. “Where are you from?” he asked her. It was easy to see that she came from somewhere else. She didn’t look local, and he would have known her from school if she was.

“New York. My dad moved here in January. I’m visiting him.” She didn’t add that her parents were getting a divorce. It was obvious anyway, if she was no longer living with him. “Are you from here?”

“Born and raised,” he said, sounding like a cowboy for a minute. And then feeling very bold, and taken with her, he added, “Do you ride?” She nodded. “Do you want to come riding with me and my friends tomorrow? We’re going to a lake to swim.” She hesitated since she didn’t know him, although the invitation was tempting, and he looked apologetic. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m Peter Pollock.” He stuck out a hand to shake hers.

“Juliet Marshall.” She smiled at him.

“We live a little way out of town on the main highway. I’ll have my dad give you an easy horse to ride. The lake isn’t far from our place.” He gave her his cellphone number and she put it in her phone. “Just call if you want to come, or send a text. We’re taking a picnic to the lake. My mom’s always afraid we’ll starve if we don’t take food with us.” He grinned and she laughed as her father waved to her. Her burger had arrived, and as she quickly said goodbye to Peter, she noticed that the portion of meatloaf on her father’s plate was huge. She was still smiling as she slid back into the booth.

“I said to play a few songs, not a whole concert. Who were you talking to?” he asked, as she dropped the rest of the quarters back onto the table, and the first song started to play. It was an old song, but she liked it. The boy she’d been talking to was handsome and looked about her age. He had appeared almost as soon as she got to the jukebox. Tom realized that he was going to see a lot more of that in the coming years. Juliet was a beautiful girl. She stood out, even in cutoff shorts with no makeup and her hair in a braid. The blond boy was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, as she was, and the same high-top sneakers she had on. It was a universal uniform for kids their age, wherever they lived. But as a New Yorker, her hair was a little neater, her T-shirt was pressed, her sneakers clean, and her nails carefully done.

“His name is Peter Pollock. He invited me to ride to a lake with his friends tomorrow, for a picnic. Can I go?” she asked simply, and he thought about it. He didn’t know the boy, but she’d be happier visiting him in the future if she made some friends in the area.

“Pollock,” Tom said thoughtfully. “If it’s the Pollock I think it is, they own one of the biggest ranches in the state. They raise horses.”

“He offered to lend me one, to get to the lake. He gave me his number to call and let him know if I can come.”

“Do you want to go?” her father asked her as they ate dinner. Juliet commented that the burger was pretty good, as she thought about Peter’s invitation.

“Maybe. He seems nice. It might be good to know some kids here when I come to visit you.” He agreed but hadn’t made any friends yet himself.

“I should call his parents and see what the plan is. I don’t want you riding off with some bunch of wild kids. Are there any girls going?” The presence of girls usually slowed down boys their age, in his opinion. Juliet knew that wasn’t always true.

“He didn’t say.”

“I’ll call his mom tonight,” he said, and Juliet rolled her eyes.

“Do you have to, Dad? It makes me look like such a dork.” He grinned at the look on her face.

“Your mother does that when you go to see people we don’t know.”

“Yeah, and everyone thinks she’s neurotic. And I look like a dweeb with my mom calling. I’m fourteen!” she said, as though it were forty.

“I don’t care if they think I’m neurotic. I don’t know them, or their son, and I love my daughter.”

“Why can’t you trust me?”

“I do. It’s everyone else in the world I don’t trust. Not with my daughter anyway.” He had always been that way.

“I swear, Mom’s still going to be calling parents when I’m fifty.”

He laughed at the thought, but knowing Beth, it was possible. She was an ultra, ultra cautious, suspicious mom who wanted to be sure that there would be parents present, and she could trust them to supervise properly. “I think she might let up by then. But probably not before,” he teased Juliet. They had finished dinner and he ordered apple pie for dessert. She looked surprised.

“You’re going to get fat here, Dad. You never ate like this in New York.”

“Your mother wouldn’t let me. And the air here makes me hungry.” She grinned at his excuse. It was true. Her mother insisted that they eat healthy meals, with lots of vegetables and no desserts. Her father had gained weight since he’d moved to Montana, but he still looked good. He’d been a little too thin before, and stressed out.