“Hi,” Stray says when I meet him in the cafeteria after getting ready. It feels like a different room when it’s not filled with people and noise bouncing off all the walls and through me.
“Hi,” I reply and then smile at him. I get it now, why he smelled like markers sometimes, and now I inhale when I’m close to him, trying to catch the scent.
Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing wanting to smell him, but it’s familiar, and that seems to work for me right now.
The therapists have all ten of us sit together in a group while we eat breakfast. I don’t really know any of the other people here, except for Stray. Yeah, I see them around, and know a few of their names, but that’s as far as it goes.
Once we’re finished eating, we put our plates away and then head out for the stables.
Stray stands close to me, so close I feel the heat from his arm and wonder if he feels mine too.
“For those of you who don’t know, I’m Chris, and this is Maryanne.” Chris, one of the equine therapists who is decked out in jeans, a cowboy hat, and boots, gestures to the therapist standing beside him—Maryanne. “Maryanne and I have a combined twenty-five years of working with horses and horse therapy. It’s a proven fact that just being around horses changes people’s brainwave patterns.”
“It’s calming,” Stray says at the same time as Chris’s, “They’ve been known to have a calming effect, and even to help with people who focus too much on negative events.”
Me, me, me! It’s like I’m in class, waving my hand around, hoping the teacher will call on me. Well, if I’d ever done that; but it’s similar to how I feel. Pick me! I’m the one focusing on the negative! And I do, don’t I? It’s not something I want to do, but it’s always there.
“Each pair go ahead and come up and get your horse,” Maryanne adds.
I wait for Stray to lead. He’s the one who knows what he’s doing where horses are concerned. If someone asked me, I couldn’t even say which horse is ours.
He nods and starts walking. When I see the horse he was with last time I found him in the stables, I know it has to be ours.
“She’s already saddled up and everything for us. Come talk to her.” Stray reaches out like he’s going to grab my hand, but then drops his. He does that sometimes. One day he stands close, reaches out and touches me a lot, but other times it’s like he’s not sure what to do.
“Talk to her?” My guilt sort of sticks its head out of hiding, like it’s not sure if it should show itself or not. Stray’s really into this, but I don’t think it will be my thing.
“It’s about trust.” He stops when we get to the white and brown horse. Stray sticks his hand out so the horse can… smell him? I don’t know if horses do that, but then he pets her nose. “They’re used to being prey. They’re careful to make sure there are no predators around. They’ll get scared if people around them are loud, controlling, or aggressive. They mirror the people around them, in a way. Just like the rest of us, they want to feel safe.”
Safe. How do you ever really know if someone is safe or not? If you’re safe or not? Parents are supposed to be safe, but they aren’t always. “Sometimes people feel safe, but they really aren’t, or you think you’re in a safe environment, but you’re really not.”
Stray doesn’t reply to me right away. He just watches me, his eyes searching in that way they do sometimes where I’m not sure if he’s trying to show me something or see inside of me.
“Come here,” he finally says, and I take a couple steps toward him, and then hold out my hand. The horse touches it with her mouth and then moves her head close to me.
“Her name’s Molly. She likes you. She liked you the other day too. They’re looking for a leader. If you’re nice to her and show her she can trust you, she’ll want to do what you ask.”
“You know a lot about them,” I say.
“I’m a smart guy,” Stray says, winking at me. “Do you like that quality?”
When I laugh Molly nudges me with her head.
“Oh, I think she’s jealous. She doesn’t want you talking to me.”
Sometimes I think he’s the only person I want to talk to. Or listen to. I’m better at listening. The way Stray looks at me makes me forget who I am, forget that I’m the guy who let his sister get hurt. He looks at me like maybe he thinks I could do anything.
It’s a lie, but I want it.
“We’re going to practice some simple commands before we head out,” Maryanne tells everyone. “Those of you who have done this before, make sure you’re helping out your partner. Chris and I will walk around and make sure everyone’s doing okay. Let us know if you have any questions.”
We spend time practicing telling the horses to go, stop, turn this way, back up.
Molly listens to Stray every time. It’s hit or miss with me, but she listens more than she doesn’t. I guess that’s something. And it feels good… the fact that Molly trusts me.
“Back up,” I tell her, and she does it. “I don’t want to let her down.”
“You won’t,” Stray says, making me realize I said the words out loud. That I let him see my fear. “Just take care of her the best you can. Respect her. That’s all she wants.”
Does he need that too? I wonder. Do I? Life would be a whole lot easier if that’s all any of us needed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MY STOMACH is a little queasy. “I’m still not sure how I feel about being up here.”
When Stray laughs I feel it radiate through my hand, and up my arm, from where I’m holding him around his waist. “We’re only walking. That’s nothing. It’s a little scary the first time you run one. Pretty fucking cool, though.”
There’s about five or so feet between each of the horses as we ride them along a trail. Open land is all around us. Clusters of trees here and there, or a lone tree by itself. I’ve never been back here, but Stray has when he’s gone out with them before.
“How do you know so much about horses?” I smell the marker in his hair.
“I’ve always liked them. Wendy and Marshall—they’re the latest foster parents—have horses. I was with them for six months before they sent me here. They thought it was good responsibility for me to help take care of the horses. Good thing I liked them. I used to ride with Marshall sometimes.”
My stomach twists, both in sadness and curiosity. I want to know more about him. He doesn’t really talk about his life a lot. Not in the same way as me, I don’t think. Stray’s not trying to hide anything. He’s not ashamed. I just think he doesn’t believe it matters. Even the information he does give me sounds detached, like he’s talking about someone else’s life and pain instead of his own.
“Were your foster parents cool? Did you like them?” This is the only time I’ve been away from my whole family for more than a few days. Even if Mom and Dad went somewhere, Holly and I were at the same place. Stray doesn’t have that. He doesn’t have family at all.
He shrugs. “As cool as they could be. I’m old enough to know the drill, though. Lots of times they seem cool, but that doesn’t stop them from giving you away.” His words are matter of fact, no emotion, but I don’t believe he doesn’t feel them. Not Stray.
I think he feels everything, whether he shows it or not.
“Maybe they won’t. I mean, they sent you here because they were worried. That has to be a good sign.”
He blows out a breath and shakes his head. “Don’t. You don’t have to do that. I get it. I’ve accepted it. I’m used to it. Even if they wanted me in the beginning, and I think maybe they did, they see now I’m too much work. People always go away. That’s why you have to make the most out of the time you have with them.”
I can’t help but wonder if that’s what he’s doing with me. If that’s why he was so honest when he said he liked looking at me, or when he asked me to hang out with them. If he’s just trying to have as much fun with me as he can before I “go away.”
“I….” Nothing else comes out. I
don’t even know what I planned to say. He’s good at stuff like that, taking care of people and making them feel better. Not me. I suck at it.
Before I can sort through my thoughts and make something come out of my mouth, Chris speaks. “Have your horses pull to the right. We’re going to stop up here for a little while. We can eat lunch and look around.”
THIS MUST be where they always take a break. There’s a place to tie up the horses, trees for shade, and I hear a creek in the background.
We get off Molly and put her with the other horses. Maryanne pulls food from her bags for them and we feed the horses.
The whole time, I can’t get Stray’s words out of my head. They make laps in there, mix with my blood, until they’re all I know.
Someone has to want him. How can they not? He’s the guy who stuck up for Casey when he knew nothing about me. He’s nice to everyone. He thinks he’s a Stray… and in some ways, he is.
“You guys know the rules. Walk around a little bit. Check out the creek, eat lunch. But we meet back here every twenty minutes.”
“Wanna go eat by the rock?” Stray points to a large boulder a little distance from the group. I shrug, still not sure where my voice is, and after grabbing our lunch from the therapists, I follow him over.
We’re quiet as we eat our chips and sandwiches. I guzzle down a whole bottle of water afterward, and Stray smiles before asking, “Thirsty?”
“Not anymore.” The words feel hollow and fake. They have no meat on them. Not after what Stray said.
After we eat, we check in with the group. “I want to see the creek,” I tell Stray afterward. He’s probably been down there, but I never have.
I feel naked in front of everyone right now, but I don’t know why. No one in this group could care less about me, but I need away from them. Need to find a way to tell Stray what’s in my head.
“Cool.”
Things are always easy with him, except the time he got sad. Stray couldn’t say the same thing about me.
“Stay close,” Christopher calls and I nod.
Everyone else is doing their own thing as we walk through the grass in the opposite direction as the rock we ate on. My hand brushes his, but he doesn’t grab on. Most of the time, we only touch when we’re alone or around our friends. I’m not sure how the staff would deal if they knew two boys who roomed next door were into each other.
“Over here,” he nods his head. There’s a hill, more trees filling in as we get closer to the water. It’s a small creek, water trickling over rocks. Maybe it was higher at one time, but we need rain.
“I let my sister get hurt.” The words come out of me in a rush. If I don’t shove them out, they’ll dig deeper, burying themselves too far inside me to be able to make it to the surface.
Immediately I look away from him. Can’t handle him seeing the truth about me, and also to make sure no one heard. Everyone else is too far away. Logically, I know that. I can’t even see them from where we are, but that doesn’t stop my response.
“What do you mean?” he asks, rubbing a scar on his left wrist with the first finger on his right hand.
My head gets foggy, my thoughts a loud throb. But I fight, fight with everything I have inside me, to tune them out. To now focus on looking at Stray, instead of seeing what I saw. “She was being hurt, and I didn’t protect her. I don’t want to talk about the details. I just wanted you to know that I did something to hurt someone I love, and even though I don’t understand it, she still loves me. My mom too. You would never let something like that happen. You’re too good. So if people can still want me, there are people who will want you. Who won’t think you’re too much trouble. If it’s not Wendy and Marshall, it’s someone.” My shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “You’re the only person I’ve ever said that to.”
He’s still rubbing his scar, but he’s somehow closer to me than he was before. Maybe he moved or maybe I moved. We could have both moved. All I know is there’re only a couple inches of space between us.
And I hope he doesn’t tell me it’s not my fault. That what happened with Holly has nothing to do with me. If he does, it’ll ruin it, because I know the truth.
“I like you,” he whispers.
“I like you too,” I reply.
Stray raises his arm up between us, makes his palm face up, just a couple inches from my chest. “They think I tried to kill myself.”
It’s the scar he was touching, the fat, rough mark from his wrist down his arm. It looks like he tried to kill himself. My eyes focus on it. My heart thunders. I don’t want him to hurt. “Did you?”
“I don’t know.”
But I think maybe he does.
“I don’t want to die. Sometimes I forget that. I’m trying not to.” Just like Bethany’s trying to eat, or Casey’s trying not to freak out. The same way I try to forget, or try not to let my feelings show.
I say, “I don’t think I’d want to be in a world without you in it.” Because he’s honest and loyal and loves horses and has freckles. I like everything about him.
Almost in slow motion, I grab his hand. Rub his scar. Thread our fingers together, and then lower our hands, still attached.
Suddenly he’s pushing up, and I see him lean forward. My lips buzz in anticipation, wanting to touch his. He’s going to kiss me. But then he stops, unsure. I want Stray to know he doesn’t have to be unsure, so then it’s me who’s leaning down, my lips touching his. It’s not my first kiss, and I sure as hell hope it won’t be my last, but it kind of feels like both—first, and last. Best. Only.
I feel it through my whole body, and then I’m pushing closer to him. Touching his lips with my tongue. And then Stray opens his mouth. Now our tongues are touching and my body is getting way too hot. So hot I might explode. In this moment I think it would be a good way to go, spontaneously combusting from the taste of Stray’s mouth.
His lips are soft and his tongue plays hide-and-seek. His hair tickles my forehead and my body starts short-circuiting.
Yes, I want to tell him. Yes, there is someone who wants you. I want you and how you make me feel, because I’m suddenly real again.
And then I hear it, our names on the wind, closer than I want them. Both Stray and I jerk back. His mouth is red and mine probably is too.
“Umm….” Stray’s gaze shoots down, so mine follows, and I see he enjoyed this just as much as I did. We both laugh, and then he yells back at Chris that we’ll be right there.
Suddenly, horseback riding is the best thing in the world, because it led us here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
IT’S BEEN a couple days since Stray and I went horseback riding with a therapy group. I haven’t gotten the chance to kiss him again, but I think my time here would go by a lot quicker and happier if I never had to stop. Maybe to eat or things like that, but kissing seems like much better therapy than talking.
Casey’s still playing his clarinet every night, sometimes during the day too. They’re right, he’s good. And it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as I thought it would. The problem is, I think he’s playing so much because he’s still freaked out about the fight. It makes me wonder how he would feel about me if he knew what the last straw was that made Mom send me here.
And the truth about the whole thing…. Even though hitting my teacher wasn’t intentional, it still felt good. It relieved some of the pressure building inside me, gave me a release for some of the anger.
That’s not something I can share with anyone. It makes me feel no better than Dad. It makes me scared that one day I’ll grow up and feel okay about hurting people the way he felt okay about hurting Holly. Normal people don’t think stuff like that is acceptable, so I try to stuff it in the back of my mind and pretend it doesn’t exist.
“Am I the only one not excited for family therapy?” Rosie asks as we sit having breakfast. I jerk my eyes away from Casey, realizing it looks like I was staring at him. Really, I guess I was. “Too bad we didn’t get shipped to one of those
places where they don’t let you have any contact with your family the whole time you’re there.”
“My mom never would have gone for that,” I tell them as I poke at my breakfast burrito. When I first came to Better Days, I just wanted to be with my family, but now that I’m here, I agree with Rosie. The whole idea of sitting down with them makes my heart want to stop beating. It’s like trying to use a hidden key to unlock things that I don’t want to be unlocked.
“I can’t wait to see my parents.” Casey’s eyes don’t leave his plate.
“Are the foster people coming?” Rosie asks Stray, and he shrugs. I kind of wish she had called them his foster parents, even if Stray doesn’t.
“They say so, but who knows? I guess since they’re footing the bill, they might.”
Or maybe because they care about you, I want to tell him, but Rosie speaks first. “And this girl over here is close to getting out. This’ll be your last one ever.” She throws a balled-up napkin at Bethany, who gives a tight smile.
“Wait. What? Bethany is leaving?” Jealousy colors my vision, but I try to block it out. Is it really jealousy, though? Two minutes ago I wanted to spend all day kissing Stray and not having to see my family. Easy stuff is what I want to focus on and being around them isn’t easy. I should be envious, but then I think about not seeing Stray or any of the others every day, and the envy completely disappears.
“Maybe,” Bethany replies, and I realize she’s only taken a couple bites of her food, and that’s being liberal.