1. Samuel #3
When a knock rattled the door of my apartment, five minutes before Dad was supposed to be there, my heart jumped, thinking the promised change had come early.
I peered through the peephole and saw Dad, all dressed up in his uniform.
He could’ve stayed in the car and called me to come down, just like he had when he picked me up for the interview.
But the small white envelope in his hand explained why he climbed all those stairs to the apartment he’d helped me find and move into.
I yanked the door open, we exchanged our good mornings, and then he handed the letter over.
My hands trembled as I scanned every inch, trying to see who it was from.
To: Samuel Cauley.
From: Silver Basin University
My heart skipped a beat. That was the one letter I’d been waiting for, from the last college I’d had my hopes on. Of course, it arrived today, of all days.
Funny how hope could vanish in a single glance. The envelope was small and thin—not what acceptance letters usually looked like. Sure, everyone said that didn’t necessarily mean anything, but so far, it always had. Every single rejection letter I’d gotten looked like this.
Still... this time, it could be different.
My gut had promised me, right? Maybe it didn’t take many words to tell me I could finally go somewhere I didn’t have to fake anything, where I could be myself, where no one would judge me for not being “normal.” Maybe there was still hope that the job at the farm I was starting today wouldn’t become the main trajectory of my life.
I ripped the letter open. My eyes flew over the short message, reading the same lines again and again.
Waitlisted.
Not good enough to make the cut, but not bad enough to be turned away entirely.
This wasn’t what I had been hoping for. Sure, it was more than I had gotten so far. There was still hope—hope that I wouldn’t have to work at a farm for the rest of my life, hope that I could still get a proper degree and become a teacher someday. But hope wouldn’t pay my rent.
And now, an hour later, with Mr. Farley escorting me from the store to the orchard, to do a job that everyone had agreed wasn’t the right fit for me, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that my gut had lied, that the only good thing this day would bring was a lesson in being humble.
I followed him, though not too closely. His whole demeanor—the broad shoulders, his puffed-out chest, the confident stride—screamed at me to keep my distance. We walked out of the back room through the yard, over to the red barn on the right.
Just before the double door, he stopped, motioning me to go in first. And the moment I entered, all eyes were on me again: all forty-something eyes of the tanned harvesters, plus the four belonging to the California-sun-shirt guy and his overalls-wearing friend.
This wasn’t the life-changing surprise my gut had promised me. This was life-threatening, if not life-ending, as my chances of dying out in the sun from exhaustion had skyrocketed now.
“It’s going to be a long day,” Mr. Farley announced behind me.
His deep tone cut through the chatter like a blade and pushed me farther into the room.
I turned, trying to blend into the crowd.
“Especially with Diego, Carlos, Brandon, and Jin all calling in. That means the rest of y’all have to pick up the slack.
But I know you can handle it. For them. For the farm. And, of course, for your paychecks.”
Laughter spread through the barn. If it was a joke, I didn’t get it. Out of the corner of my eye, I searched for the other guys’ faces, and the only two not laughing were the California-sun-shirt guy and his friend.
“Well, you know what to do,” Mr. Farley wrapped up. “Don’t forget to fill up your water bottles, if you haven’t already.” As everyone started to walk away, he turned toward the two guys. “Gordy?”
The guy in the green overalls sighed and closed his eyes for a second, as if he had been dreading being singled out. Still, he stepped forward. Sun-shirt guy turned his back on the conversation but stretched his arms overhead instead of getting to work, clearly stalling so he could listen in.
“Sam here agreed to help us out today,” Mr. Farley said, “I think you’re ready to show him the ropes.”
Gordy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for someone with more experience to?—?”
“I thought you wanted more responsibility,” Mr. Farley interrupted him, his eyes narrowing. “This is it.”
Gordy inhaled slowly, clearly about to sigh again, but as if Mr. Farley’s stern gaze reminded him of what consequences that would bring, he held his breath and nodded instead. His eyes met mine, the corners of his mouth twitching up as if to say he wasn’t thrilled about this either.
“You can do this, son. I believe in you.” Mr. Farley set a heavy hand on Gordy’s shoulder, following the words with a firm pat, before nodding at me, turning around, and walking out of the barn.
As soon as he was gone, Gordy rolled his eyes, exhaling as if he’d barely made it out of a hostage negotiation. He gave me a thorough once-over, then shook his head.
“You ever done any harvesting before?” he asked.
Sun-shirt guy turned toward us, cracking his knuckles like he was gearing up for a boxing match.
“Sorry,” I said. “But I’m a fast learner.”
Gordy clicked his tongue. “What was Dad thinking?”
“That even a slow pair of hands is better than none,” the other guy stated, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for something much more fun than hauling fruit.
“Sounds like crap to me,” Gordy muttered, his eyes fixed on me. “What was your name again?”
“Samuel, but most people call me Sam.”
“Wait.” Gordy squinted. “Do I know you?”
In a town like Red Creek, people remember you even if you’ve never seen them before. I hadn’t spent much time anywhere near guys like him, so I was probably just a blur in the background of his high school memories. “I don’t think so.”
He glanced at his friend. “Do you recognize him?”
Sun-shirt guy shook his head. “Never seen him before this morning.”
Gordy narrowed his eyes, clearly searching for an answer to his own question, but instantly gave up with a shrug.
“Anyway. I’m Gordy. That’s Benji.” He pointed at him, and Benji nodded at me like this was his way of welcoming me to the gang.
“So, Samuel . You got what you need? Water? Lunch? We won’t be coming back here before the end of the day. ”
I held up my small backpack, which contained what he had just listed.
“No hat?” Benji threw in, giving me a quick scan.
“I, uh, I didn’t know I would be working outside...”
Benji glanced at Gordy, sighed, and turned to head for a room in the back. “I’ll grab one. You get the bags and ladders. I’ll catch up with you.”
“You heard the man,” Gordy said, walking in the opposite direction.
So much for a quiet first day in the store.