“It’s a charity thing.” Ben cracks his neck. “But I had no idea Jimmy actually needed it.”
I think about everything Miss Granger told me. What if it was all a lie? Nothing more than the ramblings of a crazy person. And what does that say about me that I was more willing to believe the town was possessed by the Devil—that I was a prophet—over facing the reality that my dad was probably schizophrenic and I might have it, too? I mean, what proof did I actually have of any of this? The marks, sure … but like they said, they were drunk. Their story makes sense. And Jimmy killing himself. People kill themselves all the time. It doesn’t mean the Devil’s in town. No one really knew him. He was a weird kid. Maybe he felt so guilty about what he did to Jess that he couldn’t live with himself.
Or … maybe Miss Granger checked herself into Oakmoor as a way to infiltrate the community. Maybe this is exactly what she wants them to think. Maybe this was her plan all along.
Anything’s possible at this point.
Ali reaches out for my arm, breaking my train of thought. “I don’t mind going to see Miss Granger for counseling. She’s helped me a lot this year.”
I study her, trying to figure out if she’s talking in some kind of code. Maybe she’s trying to tell me she knows about it, too. Maybe I’m not alone in all this.
“Have you guys ever noticed the way Miss Granger’s always scratching her head when she gets nervous?” Tyler asks.
“Oh yeah.” Ben crams a big wad of chew in his bottom lip. “I just thought it was dandruff.”
Ali pulls her hair over her shoulder. “One time she caught me staring at her necklace, and she started scratching her head so hard, she drew blood. I felt really bad.”
“Self-mutilation.” Tammy pushes her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “Maybe that’s why she has to keep her hair up like that. To cover it up.”
“Did she tell you the Devil’s going to take over the town or some stupid shit like that?” Ben blurts.
I don’t know what to say, so I just stand there, staring down at the tiny patch of clover trying to push up through the dirt.
“Wait. You didn’t actually believe her, did you?” Tyler laughs.
They’re all staring at me, waiting for an answer.
“No … I mean, I don’t know…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ali says as she stands next to me. “All that matters is we’re here. Together. And it’s a beautiful day.”
“Beautiful-ish,” Tammy whispers up at the gray sky.
Ben rests his arm on my shoulder. “You’re all kinds of messed up right now, Tate, but we’re going to make you right. The Preservation Society will make you right again.”
Tyler glares at him. It’s a miniscule moment, a tiny whisper of warning, but I’ve got my eyes wide open now. Miss Granger and I might both be crazy, but Tyler’s up to something. He brought me out here for a reason. And I’m going to have to play along a little longer if I want to find out what it is.
“How about we put all this behind us and have some fun?” Tyler cracks his knuckles. “Agreed?”
Ali wraps her pinkie around mine for a brief moment. It gives me the courage to nod.
Tyler crouches to unzip the bag, revealing bull riding gear. “Now…” He looks up at me with a smug grin. “Who’s ready to ride?”
30
ALI PLUCKS a rich brown Stetson from the bag and fixes it on my head. “There,” she says, looking up at me with those big doe eyes. “You look like a real cowboy now.”
I want to ask her what she meant back there when she said that about Miss Granger helping her this year, but Tyler’s watching my every move. Or hers. I can’t help wondering if that’s what this is all about—Ali.
Ben opens the barn door and a bull comes charging into the chute. “Holy shit,” he hollers. The bull’s pure black, like he’s made up of a thousand crow feathers, with horns sharp as razors.
“What’s his name?” I ask, watching him rage against the bars.
“Diablo.” Tyler grins as he struggles to get him roped up.
“Of course it is.” I take a deep breath.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ali sidles next to me at the fence. “No one would blame you if … well, you don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, I think I do.” I reach out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and she smiles up at me, like she understands everything. And that’s the way it used to be between us. Half the time we didn’t even need words.
Tyler clears his throat and I pull my hand back. I can feel him staring a hole in my head, his rage matching the bull’s. Pretty sure he was thinking I’d wuss out, but I’m not backing down. Not anymore.
“How ’bout we make this a little more interesting,” Tyler says as he hops down from the chute and pulls out his wallet, placing a hundred-dollar bill on top of the fence post. “A hundred bucks apiece to whoever can stay in the ring the longest.”
“Ease up, Tyler Trump.” I try and make a joke out of it, but I can’t believe he has a hundred-dollar bill in his wallet, like it’s no big deal.