Page 18 of Rough
Feeling disappointed in their reactions, I take the purple and start painting more flowers, silently. I don’t like that they think I can’t do it just because I’m going to have boobs someday. Slashing angrily, I let the streak of purple stretch across the side before dropping the brush into the container.
“What kinda farm we gonna do? I don’t wanna grow crops. That’s boring as all get out,” I say, giving up on the flowers. Remy reaches over me and picks up the purple to keep painting, while I drop my chin onto my knees.
“Cattle, for sure,” he adds. “With all this land, we could get a big ‘ol herd here and sell ‘em for butcherin’. Everyone needs beef, right? We could do that grass fed shit and charge an arm and a leg. Even open up our own butcher shop if we wanted.”
Giggling at that, I turn my head on my arms to peer up at him, squinting under the sun. “Who’s gonna do that? Clyde’s not gonna wanna off any of ‘em, especially after raisin’ ‘em. And Wild pukes when he sees blood.”
“Do not!” Wilder argues, stopping his brush strokes to glare at me. After arguing for fifteen minutes, I finally got him to paint grass strands. “Onetime, I got a little sick.”
Snickering, I tease, “I cut my knee when I lost my footin’ in the barn, and you almost passed right out when the blood dripped down my leg from catchin’ that nail.”
“Did not,” he grumbles, moving toward the end of the tank to start a new patch of grass. He does his best to ignore me, but I keep poking.
“It was a real thick stream, oozin’ outta my knee. Dark red and real slow like. Soaked right into my socks. Don’t you remember?”
Wild’s face goes pale, and he swallows a few times before handing the paint container up to Clyde. “Be right back,” hemutters, then jogs off toward the horses. When I hear him gagging, I start laughing into my hand.
That boy has never been able to look at blood without getting sick to his stomach. “Told ya,” I whisper to Remy.
“You’re evil. He didn’t care ‘bout the blood. He was upset ‘cuz he thought you’d need stichin’.” I’m properly scolded, and feel a bit bad now that Wilder’s over there trying not to puke.
Lifting my head, I call out to him. “Sorry, Wild! I’ll stop. Promise. You’re right. You don’t have a weak stomach at all!”
“Evil, Country. So fuckin’ evil,” Clyde teases me before hopping down from the tank. “You need to fill in this spot,” he says, pointing at a bare area I overlooked.
Sighing, I pick up the yellow and start painting. “I think it’s crap that you guys think I won’t be able to farm just ‘cuz I’m a girl. It’s notmyfault I have a vagina.”
“Gross,” Remy snaps out. “And it’s notusthat don’t think it, it’s just the way it is. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”
“I’ll have you know, Country, I don’t have a weak stomach! I just been not feelin’ great for a couple of days. Besides, you kept shovin’ your bloody leg in my face and talkin’ about how it was oozin’.” Wilder comes marching back, ready to argue.
Nodding solemnly, I decide not to pick at him anymore. “You’re right. It was an extreme case, and I won’t hold it against you. I want to stop paintin’ now. I think this thing is done well enough.”
The four of us all stand and study the side of the tank together. Clyde moves behind me and drops his chin on my shoulder. “Looks good. I’m sure Pap will like it.”
“He’s gonna hate it.” I snicker, kicking the dirt with my booted toe. “But I like it. At least it’s not all rusted out anymore. You guys wanna go ridin’?” I ask, spinning around to look up at them.
Remy shakes his head. “No. I gotta get home soon. Dad’s got the vet comin’ tonight and needs a hand bringin’ in the cows. You guys gonna come help me?” Looking at Clyde and Wilder, I wait for him to ask me as well. He doesn’t.
Neither seems like they want to help, so I speak up. “I’ll come help. I finished my chores for the day. If we all pitch in, we can get ‘em moved in quicker.”
My friend’s solid hand drops onto my shoulder, and he jerks me back and forth in a placating way, making my teeth clank together. “Nah. Us guys can get it. Besides, you gotta finish up your flowers, right?”
“I literally just said it’s done,” I state, crossing my arms. “Lemme help you.”
“We got it, Bets.” Wilder drops his arm over my shoulder and pulls me into a hug. “See ya tomorrow, yeah? Maybe we can paint the side of the barn next.” His suggestion has a hint of humor behind it and I can feel my face turning red.
The three of them laugh as I fight off my embarrassment. I regret even telling them I was going to do this today. “Rustic,” I say, not able to contain the whine in my voice. “I wanna come help.”
His hand falls to the top of my head, and he pats me like a fucking dog. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it. We’ll get it done. See ya tomorrow, Bets.”
They do this all the time. Include me in the conversations, but when it comes time for the work part, they leave me behind. If I lash out, it only makes me look like I’m throwing a fit, so I bite my tongue. “I’ll just clean this all up then. See ya tomorrow,” I call as they mount their horses.
“Later, Country,” Clyde calls, turning his horse around to sprint across our adjoining field. He clicks his tongue and follows Remy.
Wilder waits a moment, eyeing the tank we painted. “It’s real pretty. Pap will like it, I think. Get back to the house. It’s almost dark. See ya tomorrow.”
With his parting words, he shoves his feet into his horse’s flank and disappears to catch up with my other two best friends.
