walked up to the building, I realized there was something I hadn’t considered: the stairs at the school entrance. They stretched up ahead of me like a marathon or a bed of hot coals or a Thanksgiving meal full of organic celery. For a moment, I looked up at them, and then I heard a low voice say, “Sore?”
I glared over at Ray, or at least I intended to, but when I saw his chiseled features and the kindness in his eyes, my heart caught in my throat.
He extended his arm for me, and I begrudgingly I took it. Even through winter coats, I felt warmth emanating from him, or maybe that was just my reaction to him. To the fact that he was helping me, that he was this close, and that the steam of his breath mingled with mine.
We reached the top of the stairs, and I released his arm, missing the contact more than I cared to admit. “Sorry,” I said. “That’s kind of embarrassing.”
He shook his head, hitching his thumb through his backpack. “Horseback riding takes a little bit of getting used to.”
I smiled. “You can say that again.”
“Well.” He stepped awkwardly toward the doors. “See you in class?”
Jerkily, I nodded.
But he didn’t realize we were both going the same direction. We walked beside each other silently for a moment before I continued toward Rory’s locker, where my friends were hanging out.
Callie caught sight of me first and said, “Are you feeling okay?”
My cheeks heated thinking of my fail at axe throwing. “I'm fine, but pretty sure I won't be adding axe throwing to my résumé any time soon. I'll leave that to you lumberjacks.”
Rory laughed. “Are you ready to show your video?”
“I'm ready to have it over with,” I answered, still thinking about the strong, steady way Ray’s arm had felt underneath mine.
The bell rang, and I glanced toward the ceiling.
“Good luck,” Zara said. The others turned toward their classes, but Jordan slipped her arm through mine and said, “Don't worry. Mr. Davis is going to think whatever you do is great.”
I shook my head. “It's not that,” I said quietly. “It's just, worried about how the class will treat Ray afterward.”
Now that I thought about it, a day in the life of a cowboy had been a terrible idea. Ray had kept his life story pretty well under wraps at the Academy. In a way, this was like a revealing or a debut for him. Would my classmates be okay with him? Or would they be rude?
I already knew the answer to that.
Jordan shrugged. “It's not like he's not used to catching flack for being here on scholarship.”
“Yeah, but farming is different,” I said.
“How?” she asked.
We reached the video room, where Mr. Davis was standing in the doorway. “Can't wait to see what you came up with, ladies.”
We replied and then entered the room. Jordan sat by her partner, and that left an open space by Ray. Seeing my dilemma, he offered a soft smile and patted the rolling chair next to his.
I pressed my lips together and walked closer, then said, “Howdy, pardner.”
He shook his head.
“What?” I asked him. “I’m practically a bona fide cowboy by now.”
“One ride does not a cowboy make. Also, you would technically be a cowgirl.”
“So you’re saying I’m a cowgirl?” I said.
He chuckled. “Sure, cowgirl.”
Mr. Davis called the class to order and pulled up the server file containing the class’s video projects. “Where shall we start?” he asked.
Another student in the class offered to go first, and one by one, Mr. Davis went down the files, until finally he reached ours.
Twenty-Four
I could feel all eyes on me as Mr. Davis tracked a mouse over the screen and double clicked the file name nash_sadler_dayinthelife. The screen had stopped on a shot of the cattle in the pasture, and one of the girls in class made a loud mooing sound. A couple of other guys joined in, and one said, “Of course Ginger would want to do a cow. Takes one to know one.”
Before Mr. Davis could even open his mouth, Ray snapped, “Enough.” His voice was low, deadly, daring anyone to cross him.
Everyone fell so silent the humming sound of Mr. Davis’s monitor seemed loud.
We had never heard Ray talk like that. Especially not to other students, especially not in front of a teacher, and never in defense of me.
Mr. Davis cleared his throat. “I’ll second that motion, Mr. Sadler. Now, let’s get back to class.” He clicked the