Page 14 of Catching Sparks

“Well, it doesn’t. I’m going to speak with him.”

I carry on through the pasture, my speed kicked up a notch. The spring air is cool today, and I’m glad for that when it blows over my inflamed skin, providing the slightest amount of relief. What I need is some calamine lotion and to get as far away from this wretched place as possible. Only one of those things is available to me, however.

“Slow down!” Johnny calls, his footsteps smacking the dead grass.

“I don’t need an escort.”

“Do you know your way around this place yet?”

I don’t reply.

“That’s what I thought,” Johnny sings. “You need to go to the main house to see Eliza. She’ll get you sorted.”

My jaw throbs from the pressure of keeping my teeth ground together as we get closer to the fence and the truck parked behind it. It’s not until Johnny rushes ahead to lift the lock and push open the gate that I realize I can’t drive the truck back. I’ve never learned how to drive a manual.

“Fuck,” I grit out.

“What?” Johnny asks, staring at the truck with casual ease. “It’s a bit old, but she does the job.”

“You’ve driven this thing before?”

“’Course I have. Been driving farm trucks my whole life.”

Relief blows through me. “You can drive us back to the house, then.”

“You gonna say please at least?” he asks, but he’s already getting in the driver’s side.

I toss the pitchfork back in the bed and then slide back into the passenger seat with a muttered “Please.”

It’s better to tell him what he wants than have him learn that I just don’t know how to drive myself back. I mark learning how to drive manual on the top of my to-do list.

“Alright.” He grabs the key from its place tucked in the back of the visor and starts it up, that same loud noise and stink of exhaust following right after. “So, why are you here?”

I crank down the window and stick my arm outside, my eyelids threatening to shut at the cool relief on my skin. “I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“That’s cryptic.”

“It was supposed to be.”

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?”

“What gave me away?”

He chuckles, tapping a hand on the steering wheel as we pull onto the gravel road, and he fiddles with the gearshift. “A snappy son of a bitch too.”

“Guess so.”

“You know, this isn’t exactly a bad place to wind up. Your choice or not.”

“That’s great. I’ll remember that the next time I have an allergic reaction caused by one of Wade’s stunts.”

“Pop an allergy pill and stop whining about it. You could have stabbed yourself with the pitchfork instead.”

“Why would I have done that?”

He shrugs. “Donno. I’m just saying you could have had something worse happen today than a little reaction to some hay.”

“How old are you?”

---