Page 1 of Saving the Halfback

1

Bailey

Monday

Iglanced in the mirror, seeing only a ghost of the girl I’d once been. Her pale skin and dull eyes were something I could barely stand. I glimpsed her and was reminded of who I had become, someone not true to myself.

It’s amazing—as we grow, parts of us change and re-form, while other parts are heavily influenced by those around us. I didn’t want to be influenced anymore. I wanted to be seen as Bailey. The girl I could’ve been. If I tilted my head a certain way, I could see the amber color in my eyes, instead of faded brown. Amber was a prettier color. Amber was sunlight, gold; amber was healing.

If I ran the brush through my hair, my amber eyes could now spot the individual strands of brown, instead of how it always fell into place, always uniform. I couldn’t allow myself to fall into place any longer. Now was my chance.

The longer I stared at the mirror, though, the more the truth fought to bubble to the surface. I saw that ghost of a person I had been the last couple of years reappear. The mirror reminded me of the 3D pictures I’d loved as a kid. Tilt them one way to seean image, but tilt them another way, and there was something completely different. Someone different.

My stomach clenched with unease, and I bit my lip to prevent it from trembling. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow myself to do this. Why was it, whenever I tried to give myself an inch, I could feel him pulling me back?

“You look beautiful, princess.” I looked up past my reflection and athimsitting on the window seat in my room. He seemed out of place in his blue jeans, cowboy boots, and cowboy hat as he sat among my stuffies I’d had since I was a child. He shook his head, his dark eyes leaving me, disappointment coloring his face.

I closed my eyes, willing him to disappear, telling myself he wasn’t real. When I opened them again, he was gone.

It was the first day of the last year of high school, and I was determined to end it the way I wish I had started it. No more baggy clothes hiding every inch of my body. I,Iwas my strength. I was on my way back to who I wanted to be. No more ghost girl. No more skirting along the halls of the school, keeping to the back and excluding myself. That wasn’t who I used to be, and it wasn’t who I wanted to be. For once, he wouldn’t be around to tell me otherwise.

This year…this year was for me. If the inherited owner of my family’s farm was all I’d ever be,let me have this year.Let me have normal teenage experiences. Let me right some wrongs.

Returning my gaze to the mirror, I studied my outfit. The form-fitting black shirt was soft and comfortable, but the way it hugged my curves had my stomach flipping. The jean shorts were likely too small for his liking, but these were the clothes I’d seen in the store, the ones I’d fallen in love with and had wanted so desperately to try on. The ones my mother had encouraged me to buy. They were simple, but they made me happy.

The makeup I applied was nothing risky, nothing bold or daring. Just simple. That's all I’d ever wanted over the years, to simply be me. This was it. This was the year. Ed was gone—“because of you.”I shook my head to get rid of his voice. No, not gone. Ed wasn’t gone. He…he’d given me permission.

A scoff sounded behind me, and I spun around, my eyes searching the room. The fact that it was empty did nothing to ease my pounding heart.

I grabbed my old ball cap, a horned bull skull adorning the front. It was black but had turned almost grey with how often I’d worn it years ago. I was surprised by how perfectly it still fit. This would be my lifeline today. As exposed as I felt, at least I could use it to cover up.

Running down the stairs and into the kitchen, I smiled at my mom. “Hey, Mom.”

I was the spitting image of my mother. My dad told me that every day, and it always made me smile. I didn’t think I was as beautiful as her, but if I could have half the beauty and grace she did, I would be set. We both shared the same long hair and amber eyes, though hers seemed greener at times, perhaps hazel.

“Breakfast is on the table.” Spinning around, she perused me slowly, and the smile I received was something I hadn’t seen in a while. “Bailey, you look…good.”

I grinned at her and sat down, sliding a few pancakes onto my plate and pouring on the maple syrup. “Thanks, I feel… I don’t know, almost like my old self.”

It had been hard not telling my mother the truth—why I hadn’t been hanging out with the same people I used to, and why there was a change in what I liked. I knew she thought I was depressed, since I had caught her and Dad talking about it on more than one occasion. I wasn’t, but it did end up creatinga disconnect between us. How could I tell her what I was really feeling?

Mom sat down with me while I ate, sipping on her coffee. I knew she and Dad had already eaten. “I had fun shopping. Maybe we should go again. What do you think about getting your hair cut?'' she asked.

I drank my orange juice, pushing the food down. I tried not to think of Ed telling me women should have long hair. All morning, I’d tried to make choices for myself, but I answered my mother with the same programmed response that had been drilled into me over the years. “I like my long hair.” I took a deep breath and added, “But I’ll think about it. Is Dad in the barn?” My stomach flipped, and I could feel my hands shake. Out of habit, I tried to shove them into my hoodie pocket, but I wasn’t wearing one today.So much. There was so much I wanted to tell her, but I wasn’t sure how.

Mom nodded. Of course, Dad was in the barn. As if there was anywhere else he would be. I finished off my pancakes and grabbed my bag. Before I could run out the door, Mom grabbed my hand and pulled me back. She kissed my cheek and smiled up at me. “You have a good day, Boo.”

I smiled back at her. “You too.”

Slipping into the mudroom, I put on my runners and walked out onto the porch. McCormick Farm had been handed down from my great grandfather to my grandfather to my father, and my father already talked about handing it down to me one day. I wasn't an angsty teen, forced into taking the family business; on the contrary, it was something I looked forward to, eventually. This farm meant everything to my father, and therefore, it meant everything to me.

I walked off the porch, the very spot where I took my first steps as a baby, and to my truck. I threw my backpack into the passenger side before turning down the lane and walking to thebarn. Dad was right where I expected him to be—in the corral with Raven, a beautiful black Arabian horse. There were two farmhands, Hank and Tommy, on horses with him, and I knew they were likely going to ride out to check the cattle in the far pastures.

Tommy pointed at me, and Dad turned Raven around. It wasn’t long before he was trotting up. I pulled myself on the fence of the corral, so I could be at Dad’s height.

“Coming for a ride?” he asked me.

Years ago, I would have said my dad was my best friend. We used to do everything together. His love for the farm became my love for the farm. He didn’t care that I wasn't a son, treating me the same. Teaching me how to run the equipment to harvest the crops and how to care for the animals. As I grew older, though, we’d drifted apart, much like me and Mom. At times, I felt guilty about it. I knew it was my fault, but I wasn’t sure how to fix it.

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