When you’re fourteen years old and Amish, being away from the farm with your best friend was the epitome of independence. I drank in that newfound sense of freedom until I was drunk on it and giddy for more. Still, walking into an “English-owned” establishment—even a place as teenager friendly as the Round Barn Creamery—wasn’t easy. I was ever aware that because of the way I dressed, some people would stare as if I were some kind of oddity.
One hot July afternoon, Mattie and I parked our bikes outside the shop. We’d been in such a hurry to get there and pedaled so fast, we arrived drenched with sweat. The bell on the front door jingled merrily when we walked inside. A wash of air-conditioned air sent gooseflesh down my arms as I made my way to the counter. I wanted to order my usual: a chocolate shake with a single dip of coffee ice cream, but we were both short on cash that day so we settled for small iced teas instead and carried them to our favorite table on the patio, where Kurt Cobain belted out a song about teen spirit.
I was so embroiled in the music and this special time with my best friend, I didn’t notice the group that came in behind us. Two boys and two girls. English teenagers about the same age as Mattie and me. The boys wore cut off shorts with T-shirts depicting different rock bands. The girls were pretty. One wore blue jeans with a white tank top. The other wore shorts that displayed long, slender legs. I stole looks at them as they walked onto the patio, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to dress like that. To have jewelry and wear makeup and be surrounded by boys.
“They’re fat cows.” Mattie whispered the words in Pennsylvania Dutch.
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. That was one of the things I loved most about Mattie. Her unapologetic audacity. She was bold and brave and completely unstoppable.
When the group received their ice cream orders—big sundaes stacked high with whipped cream and slivered almonds—they strolled onto the patio. I could tell by the way their eyes swept toward us that they were curious. I wondered if they were tourists, if they’d ever seen an Amish person before. I wondered what that would be like, too.
“We ought to put on a show, give them a reason to stare,” Mattie said, watching them unabashedly.
The group wandered to the table next to ours and sat down. I turned my attention back to my iced tea, hoping they left us alone. Mattie had no such ambitions. She was completely unperturbed by their not-so-covert ogling and the whispers they didn’t bother to conceal.
But I felt the burn of their stares like fire against my skin, and I wanted to kick her under the table. After a few minutes, the two boys sauntered over to us. The first boy had brown hair that was nearly as long as mine. The second was blond with a slightly feminine air. I suspected he might have been confused for a girl if it hadn’t been for the tuft of peach fuzz sticking out of his chin.
Mattie cast me a quick smile and winked. I couldn’t believe she thought they were going to be nice. Even at the tender age of fourteen, I had developed a sixth sense when it came to spotting troublemakers. These two boys had it written all over their too-pretty faces. I sucked hard on my straw, uncomfortable because all of them were watching us expectantly, looking bored and mean and a little too anxious to focus those things on us.
“Do you ladies come here often?” the brown-haired boy asked.
A round of snickers erupted from the girls sitting at the table next to ours. I didn’t look up from my drink. But I was quickly running out of tea. That was a problem because once that happened, I’d have nothing to do.
“We’re regulars,” Mattie said breezily. “Haven’t seen you around, though.”
He grinned, pleased to have received a response, and shot the girls a this-is-going-to-be-fun look. “Do you mind if my friend and I ask you a few questions? We’re working on a report for school. You know, about Amish people.”
More snickers.
Mattie sucked on her straw, studying him from beneath long lashes. “What’s in it for us?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “What do you want?”
“Buy us a couple of chocolate shakes and we’ll tell you everything you ever wanted to know.” She smiled sweetly. “Won’t we, Katie?”
I kicked her, annoyed because I was certain she was about to get us involved in something that would surely backfire.
The two boys exchanged looks, then the brown-haired boy nodded. “Sure.” Rising, he fished his wallet from his pocket and walked to the counter.
“What are you doing?” I whispered in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“You wanted ice cream, didn’t you?” she shot back.
I shook my head, dread building in my chest. This wasn’t going to be fun and it wasn’t the way I’d wanted to spend my afternoon.
I risked a glance at the table next to us. Only then did I notice the girls sitting there by themselves, looking irritated, and it struck me that they didn’t appreciate their boyfriends buying ice cream for us. I experienced a moment of triumph because I realized it was part of Mattie’s plan.
A few minutes later, the brown-haired boy set two chocolate shakes in front of us, and they joined us at our table.