The Arrogant Asshole

The Second Day

Yesterday, we mainly were led around and talked to about the ranch, and the rules on the ranch. To be honest, I remembered one out of the twenty or so rules. It was something like, "be responsible" or some dumb shit like that. I scoff now, thinking about it, wishing I was still in that lecture instead of out watching Mrs. Rickler plant cabbage.

"See how I leave some room for fertilizer," she instructs, leaning back so we can see. I take a peek, which surprises myself because I've never been into gardening. I guess I'm humoring her.

"Now, Josie, could you hand me the fertilizer?" Mrs. Rickler says, holding a hand out. Josie complies, then quickly backs away. Mrs. Rickler sprinkles the orangish beads into the cabbage hole, then carefully covers it up, patting the soil back into place.

"Alright, now that you've watched me do it, I want everyone to grab a vegetable seedling or seed and plant it in this row. Whoever plants one the best will get off kitchen duty tonight!"

Once she says that, everyone scrambles to get a seed or a seedling, spilling some fertilizer in their wake. I frown and bend down to pick it all up. I actually respect Mrs. Rickler. It's only my parents I don't respect. Well, besides other high schoolers.

I try to run myself through the steps of planting something as I pick up fertilizer pellets, but I can't remember the first step. It's probably dig a hole. I don't try to not pay attention, I can't help how short my attention span is. I do remember staring at a fat caterpillar squirming on a squash leaf while she was explaining the first step.

Once the fertilizer is picked up, I shuffle over to the seeds and pick out an okra seed to plant. Should be easy enough.

Five minutes later, I'm glaring at a mound of dirt. I can't believe how bad I am at basic shit. I plop down on the dirt, hugging my knees and resting my head on them. I give up.

I look up when I hear excited cheers, and see the winner of no kitchen duty. It's Monica, who seems to excel at everything. She even eats with grace.

Her wardrobe wasn't exactly meant for this stinky ranch, though, and I can see mud stains on her designer leggings. Her crop top isn't doing a good job blocking the sun either.

I look down at my frayed jeans and oversized tye-dye shirt that I found buried in the bottom of my closet.

I'm a bit more prepared for this lifestyle.

I sigh, wiping my dirty hands on my jeans, creating smudges on them.

I stand up and follow the group to our next activity.

Around five pm, we were brought inside to help with dinner. I quietly set the table and helped chop up vegetables for the salad while listening to the conversations around me.

Listening to them I learn that four out of the five girls have fallen for the mad looking boy. I roll my eyes when I think about it, finding it impossible. I guess looks only matter these days.

During dinner, I was seated across from the grouch, who glared at everybody from his seat.

"Jedediah, stop that," his mother whispered sharply from beside him. I almost choked on my lettuce because I had to hold my laughter in. Of course Jedediah was his name. The most cowboyish western name I've heard.

He grumbled something, and stuffed a piece of chicken in his mouth.

I put my fork down and coughed, grabbing for my glass of water so I could smother my snickering.

He heard me and gave me the best death glare he could summon, hazel eyes piercing mine. That made me laugh even more, and I asked to be excused before drawing more attention.

I wish my humor wasn't so messed up.

I was woken up early the next morning, along with the rest of the kiddos, and hated it. I trudged out to the stables with the others, today wearing darker jeans and a wrinkled white shirt.

I resisted the urge to yawn when Mr. Rickler was explaining the reins and bridles to us, but attempted to pay attention. I noticed the guy beside me falling asleep as he was standing, and I didn't blame him.

He was roughly awakened when Jedediah shoved through, wearing that frown like always.

"Now Jedediah will take over and get each of you riding by noon."

I snorted, disbelief filling me. No way in hell would I be riding a horse.

Jedediah took a deep sigh and didn't murmur for the first time when he said, "Go pick out a horse."

In fact, it sounded closer to a threat than a murmur.

Everyone ran to the one they wanted, leaving me with the tallest stallion with patches of brown on its flanks. I would never make it into the saddle from where I stood. While the other kids scrambled onto the saddles, I stood staring my horse in the eye, daring it to move.

"Listen, horse. I don't want to ride you, you probably don't want me riding you. Kick Jedediah or something so we get out of this."

It stared at me with its soulless eyes, blinking after a full minute.

I sighed, giving in. And kicked the stable floor in frustration.

That was when I noticed Jedediah next to me, looking confused, which was a nice change from his regular pouting face.

"You wouldn't understand," I told him, backing away from the horse that inched closer.

He nodded then seemed to remember he was mad, and returned to normal.

I trailed after him as he led the horse out of the stables, where everyone else was waiting on the back of their horse. Even Mr. Rickler was, and as soon as he saw me on the ground, he sighed. He made some sort of look towards Jedediah and called out to my ranch mates.

"Alright, let's move out."

And just like that, they left. Rode on down a trail and left me with Jolly Jedediah.

I slowly turned around, eyes narrowed, and told him, "I am not getting on that horse."

"Yes, you are." He stated, replicating my narrow eyes.

I crossed my arms, frowning at him.

"Make me, Mr. Cowboy."

He stomped over, grabbed my waist, and threw me on the saddle, startling the horse. I gasped, in shock that someone would ever do such a thing, and turned around to murder him. He had already shoved his own boot in the stirrup and swung onto the saddle behind me.

"Why, you-" I started, but never got to the profanities, because he clamped his hand over my mouth.

"Would you shut up? The horse will kick us both off if you keep shrieking like that." He says to me, eyebrows dipping to compliment his frown.

I give him a deadpan look, then bite his hand.