The Last Harvest(18)
Tomorrow, I’ll have to deal with the fallout from all of this, the whispers, the staring. I don’t think Mr. Neely will say anything, at least for now, but Mrs. Ely’s the biggest gossip in town. It doesn’t even matter. Right now, all I want is to be close to Ali. I need to know she’s okay. I feel like if I see her face, I’ll know what I have to do.
And maybe I’ll finally be able to let her go. Let it all go.
*
I’VE BEEN staring at Ali’s front door so long my eyes feel welded in place. I hardly notice morning’s come when Tyler pulls into her circular driveway; his car’s all decked out with red and black streamers, “#6 NEELY” and “QB” painted on his windows. Pep girls must’ve paid him a visit. I’d forgotten all about homecoming tonight.
Ali comes springing out the front door in her cheerleading uniform, her long shiny ponytail swinging behind her. My breath catches in my throat. She looks rested, not a care in the world, her bright hazel eyes shining with excitement.
I chuckle to myself like the crazy person that I am. I’m toast. I’ve officially lost my mind. Imagined the whole thing at the breeding barn. Of course I did.
Tyler doesn’t even get out of the car to open the door for her; he’s too busy checking himself out in the rearview mirror. As soon as she gets in, he pulls onto the street with screeching tires. Ass.
For a second I think Ali sees me. I hunch down in my seat, but she looks away so quickly it’s hard to tell.
I wait a couple of minutes before pulling out. I may have sat outside her house all night, but I’m not a total stalker.
The closer I get to school, the heavier my shoulders feel. Mrs. Ely must’ve called half the county by now. The way I see it, I have two options. I can ignore it, pretend like it never happened, or I can take the Dale approach—laugh it off, tell everyone I got wasted and blacked out. That’s what happened when his mom posted that video of him twerking to that Miley song.
I pull into my spot in the back of the lot and take a deep breath. Like Dad always said, you’re either a rip-the-bandage-off all at once kind of guy or the peel-it-off-slow type. Looking out toward Tyler’s car, I brace myself for the stares, but not a single glance comes my way.
Confused, I get out of my truck. Maybe he just hasn’t noticed me yet. Wanting to get it over with, I stretch my arms high above my head and crack my back. That should do it, but still, nothing. Except for the occasional nod from a couple of football players passing by, or the random shy gaze from some freshman girl, no one pays any attention to me.
And then it hits me—maybe no one knows.
Maybe there is a God.
I let out an unexpected laugh as I lace my hands behind my head and stare up at the sky—that beautiful endless Oklahoma sky. It feels like it’s the first time I’ve really seen the sun in over a year.
“Interesting look, cuz,” Dale says as he strolls over to my truck.
“It’s a new tactic,” I say as I try to smooth down my hair. I must look like crap, but I feel good. Light. “The homeless look so girls will feel sorry for you.”
“Wait. Does that actually work?”
“No.” I laugh. “Sometimes I worry about you.”
He squints up at me. “You sure are chipper today. Does this mean you’re coming out with me tonight? I heard Laura Dixon’s cousins are coming in from the city—Tulsa. One for you, one for me.” He leans forward. “I’ll even give you first pick.”
“Wow. That’s generous of you, Dale, but I can’t. Last harvest.”
“Wheat blows.” He kicks a clump of dirt off my tire. “Haven’t you heard? Gluten is the Devil.”
“Tell me about it.” I grab my bag and start heading across the lot.
We step aside, letting a bunch of JV cheerleaders pass.
“Well, you’re missing out,” Dale says as he stares after the girls. “Guess I’ll have to handle both of them on my own tonight.”
I laugh, and not a forced laugh—a real laugh.
On instinct, my whole body starts to tense as I pass Tyler’s car, but the Preservation Society pack doesn’t even acknowledge me. It’s like I’m invisible. Or maybe they were never looking at me. Maybe it’s all been in my head—this entire year. Whatever the reason, I’ll take it. Fine, I’m a delusional weirdo, but at least Ali’s not crawling out of a dead cow. I almost feel normal again, like the old Clay.
As I grab hold of the frigid metal door handle to head inside for class, I glance back at Ali. She’s not looking at me or anything, but it feels right, like I finally might be able to move on with my life.
*
NOT FIVE minutes into first period, a note comes in summoning me to Miss Granger’s office. It’s almost a relief. I knew I wouldn’t get off this easy from my “incident” last night. She probably just needs to know I’m not going to go all Columbine on her.
I duck into her office. “Before you say anything, just hear me out.”
She bolts up from her chair and shuts the door behind me.
Wow. I must really be in trouble. “Look, you were right,” I explain. “It’s the sleeping pills … it has to be. I stopped taking them last night, flushed them all down the toilet. The calf, the symbol, the dreams, Ali climbing out of the dead cow, the conspiracy theories … it’s all just a way to deflect from the truth.” My throat’s knotting up, but I force out the words. “My dad had schizophrenia or he was a meth head … it doesn’t really matter. That’s on him … not me. There, I said it. Are you happy?”