What Takes Forever

Chapter 8~Surprise

First off, I'm soooooo freaking sorry. I have no excuse for not updating in like 5 months. Please forgive me. I don't want to hold you back any longer than for how long you've already waited.

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Brook's POV

I sat on my bed, twisting my hair between my fingers while humming along to the music that I was playing on full volume. Looking through old pictures, smiling at my cheesy expressions and awkward poses. Thinking about how care-free I was. Ugh, the days before junior high.

Sofie and Lise had both had much success with boy drama. Mo and I, on the other hand, were remaining 'forever alone.' But as for me, that's fine. I mean, I'd rather hang with friends than kiss a boy.

Well, that's how the situation USED to be. Recently, though, I seem to have mixed feelings. I just want to be with friends, but I can't help the little bubbly feeling inside when I see Matthew in the halls or on the bus or in town. And it seems like each time, we make awkward eye contact. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm crushing. And it's so annoying, he's all I can think about.

He's a hot ninth grader. I'm a lame sevie. Nothing could ever happen. Both Annalise and Sofia have amazing natural beauty, and are super funny. They're cute and likable. I'm awkward, clumsy, and kinda annoying. Why would someone who's already way out of my league without being two years older ever even think twice about me? He already probably thinks I'm a creepy stalker by how much we run into each other in town.

See? I'm obsessed. Now I'm blankly staring at the pictures, turning the pages on autopilot, the music way in the back of my mind.

"Mom? Can you make me a grilled cheese? I'm hungry!" My voice doesn't echo through the halls. The house is too small. After a couple of seconds of silence through the house, I get up to yell at her again. Coming out of my room, I remember that I'm home alone. I grumble at the thought of having to actually make food, most of which will probably end up in Copper's, my golden retriever, mouth.

Figuring that Yabou, my beautiful chestnut Quarter Horse, has been feeling neglected, I pulled on a pair of old bell-bottom jeans and my consignment tack store knock-off polyester cowboy boots. The beauty $20 can buy you in the horse world.

I'm lucky that my family and I live with lots of property. At the end of building their housing development, the company responsible for Greatchwood Properties had a bunch of land left and not a lot of money. So they built 16 more houses, each with about nine acres. I moved in, and my family got some animals and we took advantage.

The sound of a whinny is one of the best sounds I've heard in a while. Yabou trots over, and I reach my hand out to stoke his soft muzzle, but he pulls away like he always does. A quote brushes through my memory, and it comes out of my mouth before I even think about saying it. "Here's to the girls who know that the only boys worth their teenage years are geldings." I whisper to my sweet boy, entering his run.

A brushed and tacked up quarter horse soon stands in front of me, our bodies connected by nothing more than strings of leather. "Kay, boy. Let's go for a trail ride."

My mind is racing but I keep our pace to a steady walk and occasional jog. It's the most soothing thing that I've done in weeks.

"It has been weeks since I rode you, hasn't it?" I ask Yabou, but his reply is silence. Not like I was expecting an answer, though. He's a gelding, not a boy. Sign. Boys. Matthew. Is it possible to be in love without actually being with the person? If no, then I don't even know what I'm feeling.

Suddenly, Yabou halts, his ears perked and his head turned to the side. Any other time I would just click and squeeze my legs a little, but I can the his tension. This only ever happens when he sees a horse buddy...or a human on the trail.

My thoughts immediately flash back to the night my adoptive family was killed. The blood and rope. The pain of a blade being ripped across your arm against your will, the horror of watching the gun smoke after shooting a bullet through your brothers skull. My other sibling bleeds to death from a cut similar to mine, and I just barely see the gun to my mothers head and the sound of a door being broken in before my mind is blank.

And suddenly I'm back in the woods, sitting on my $450 western saddle, cinched onto a chestnut quarter horse's back, my gut tight with fear. I never really believed that my father managed to kill himself before the police got to the basement. There's always been something inside that's told me that he's out there. Searching for me.

And so of course I have my hands tight around the reigns and my legs ready to squeeze like crazy when Matthew Parkyr steps out of the bushes and greets me with a shy smile. "Hey," he says. I fall out of the saddle.