8. Samuel
SAMUEL
WHAT IF I HADN’T DONE THE RIGHT THING?
If my chest hadn’t ached so much from carrying a heavy bag of oranges all day, I would’ve held it higher, celebrating today’s achievements.
First, I’d gotten a lot closer to Benji.
After he found the necklace, we kept chatting while we worked.
Our conversation didn’t go as deep as when he spoke about the necklace again, but deep enough that I knew now his favorite ice cream was vanilla, that he prefers silence over music when he’s alone—though, if he ever listens to something by choice, it has to have distorted guitars or someone screaming the lyrics until nothing makes sense anymore.
I also learned that he was jealous because I had already seen the new Project Impossible, as he loved the earlier movies, but only had the means to watch it once it showed up on the streaming services.
What really made me smile as we walked back into the barn, though, was that we, as a team, not only hit our quota but surpassed it.
It was as if my hands had been carried by an invisible spirit, making my fingers move not only more precisely but three times as fast. By the end, I was so deep in the groove, I wouldn’t even have realized it was time to head back if Benji hadn’t kept track—although I’ll admit that might also be because I’d only worked half a day, thanks to the incident last night that, officially, hadn’t happened if anyone asked.
The warmth that had filled my body ebbed away the moment we stepped into the barn.
Benji walked in first, stopping dead after only three steps.
I was so unprepared for the sudden halt that I would’ve crashed into him if not for the picking bag in my arms, which now acted like a safety cushion.
My head snapped up, searching for the reason, and when I saw it, my feet forgot how to move, too.
Mr. Farley stood at the standing desk, lips pinched, his eyes darting over the screen.
He wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.
Grace and Gordy stood next to him, arms crossed in matching stances, their faces fixed on the screen, too, like they were watching him defuse a bomb.
Benji lowered his head until the brim of his straw hat hid his eyes.
“Come on, Sam,” he said, his voice low. “Let’s wait here in the back.”
He led the way to the seat furthest from our boss, and I followed, sitting down beside him, keeping my gaze on my shoes.
This was exactly the kind of situation he had warned me about earlier.
Why else would Grace, Gordy, and Benji all of a sudden look so tense about Mr. Farley’s return? Was there a chance he already knew?
Benji pulled out his phone, swiping through apps too fast to be actually looking at anything, probably doing it only to appear busy.
One by one, our other coworkers trickled in. Unlike us, they greeted Mr. Farley warmly, but his strained expression didn’t shift in the slightest. He acknowledged their greetings with curt nods, never taking his eye off the screen.
After five minutes, once everybody was back from the orchard, he took a deep, unsettling breath and turned to the group.
“Everyone,” Mr. Farley said, the authority in his voice quieting the barn in an instant—unlike when Gordy ran the briefings, and chatter always dragged on for at least half a minute before dying down.
Mr. Farley gave a smile that landed somewhere between corporate obligation and a father hiding his disappointment.
“I have good news, and I have bad news. The good news is that I’m already back, the farm’s still running, and we’re blessed with perfect weather this year.
The bad news is...” His smile vanished. “...over the past few days, you guys have worked very hard. But unfortunately, we haven’t been able to match last year's numbers.”
The silence was suffocating. I could even hear Mosquito-Net-Luis gulp, despite him sitting on the far end of the barn.
Like him, most of the workers dropped their gazes, too uneasy to meet Mr. Farley’s eyes, probably praying that there wouldn’t be any harsh consequences.
Benji sank further into the shadow of his hat, as if it were some kind of spell to stay invisible.
“We haven’t matched the numbers...” The corners of Mr. Farley’s mouth twitched up for half a second. “...because we outdid them.”
The shockwave of his words rolled through the barn. After a breathless pause, most of the workers joined in a big, relieved sigh, laughter bubbling up in waves. Mr. Farley remained silent for a few seconds, allowing the relief to settle, then raised a hand to call our attention back to him.
“I’m really proud of you guys.” He scanned the room, blinking encouragement at each worker individually, until his eyes landed on me—and stayed.
“We are not done yet, but it’s only a couple more weeks until the end of the season.
I need all of you to keep this pace. Let’s push through to the finish line. ”
Only then did his eyes move on. Blood rushed through my head, leaving me dizzy and wondering if he already knew what had happened last night.
Cheers and applause filled the room. I clapped too, though my hands felt numb. I peeked sideways at Benji, looking for a clue about what to expect, but his eyes were empty, his hands moving just enough to avoid arousing suspicion.
“That’s it for today, guys. Grab some dinner. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Mr. Farley finished his speech and took a step back to signal that everybody was free to go.
The barn erupted into motion as everyone headed for the locker room, picking up whatever they had stored to keep safe from the heat, perhaps changing into looser clothes or different shoes, all business as usual.
“There’s still a chance he’ll catch us on the way out,” Benji whispered, leaning toward me, the brim of his hat hiding us from everyone else.
“He doesn’t like confrontations in front of everyone.
If he does ask, tell him what Grace has told everyone else this morning—you worked on your college applications and lost track of time.
It’ll be a lot better if he doesn’t find out the truth. ”
Just the thought of a confrontation made my whole body tremble.
As if he noticed, Benji gifted me a smile.
“It’ll be alright. I’ll hang back, talk to Gordy, and keep an eye on the situation.
If I have to, I’ll cause a distraction or something.
You get out of here. Okay?” He winked at me and, without giving me any chance for questions or hesitation, got up and rushed over to the three Farleys, who watched their workers skedaddle.
I threw one last glance at Benji, like this was war, and it might be the last time I saw him, before I did as I was told. I got up, headed for the locker room, eyes down, careful not to meet anyone’s gaze, just in case.
About three feet away from the freedom-promising exit, Mr. Farley’s voice cut through the air. “Mr. Cauley,” he said. “Could you spare us a second of your time?”
My heart beat fast. I had done everything that I was told, but it didn’t help. I still ended up in a situation I was nowhere near prepared for. All I could do now was trust Benji, Gordy, and Grace. They were the experts at getting out of situations like this, after all.
“Of course,” I replied, turning around. Forcing a smile, I made my way over.
As I reached them, Mr. Farley pressed his hands together.
“I’m sorry to hold you back, but there’s a matter that needs to be discussed.
” He glanced around the room, checking for any additional ears—just like Benji had warned me—but it was only the five of us left.
He laid his eyes on Benji. “Mr. Putnam, since you are also already here, I’d like to have a word with you, too. ”
Benji nodded, but didn’t say anything, probably because he knew that sometimes silence was the safer choice. He looked chill on the surface, but I caught the way he pinched his leg between his right thumb and index finger.
Mr. Farley took a step back, leaning against the standing desk as if this were nothing more than a friendly chat.
“Mr. Cauley, I’d like you to explain to me again what happened this morning.”
All eyes swung to me—Grace, Gordy, and Benji staring wide-eyed, probably hoping I would be able to play along for all our sakes.
“The honest answer is,” I said, tucking my hands behind my elbows, “I was late for work.”
“And why is that?”
I fixed my eyes on the ground, avoiding Mr. Farley’s gaze, which seemed far too relaxed given that he obviously knew what had happened. The collar of my shirt seemed to tighten around my neck, as if it were trying to strangle me.
Lying wasn’t something I had much practice with, and I wasn’t eager to start now.
But I couldn’t see any other way out. This wasn’t like cheating on a test back in school, where the worst thing that could happen was detention—not that I ever cheated—no, this was real, something that could have an impact on multiple lives.
If I told the truth and the thing everyone feared came true—that Benji and I lost our jobs—it could even mean that Benji’s mom wouldn’t get the treatment she needed.
I opened my mouth. My lower lip trembled. I closed it again.
“Would you please go on, Mr. Cauley?”
“Sorry,” I blurted out, raising my gaze to meet Mr. Farley’s.
“I was working on an essay for a college application all night and lost track of time. I only realized when the sun came up and tried to get at least half an hour of sleep, but I was too worked up. I knew it would’ve been reckless to come in exhausted and work in the sun all day.
So, I called and confessed it to Grace.” I glanced at her.
“She wasn’t happy, but she agreed it wasn’t safe to work like that.
So we decided I‘d take the morning off and join everyone at lunch.”
Mr. Farley peeked at the others, barely perceptible glances, like he was checking for cracks in the story, before he took a slow breath.