Chapter 18 Sierra
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
sierra
OCTOBER, SOPHOMORE YEAR
If you want to compete, you’ll just need to get these forms filled out, then turn them in,” Alyssa explained as she scrolled on the Montana High School Rodeo Association website. “You’ll also have to pay your membership dues, but then you’ll be able to enter into competition for the spring season!”
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I read the requirements for the forms.
Both parent signatures are required.
There was no way in hell my father was going to let me participate in rodeos.
He didn’t even know that when I wasn’t home, I was spending time at Hayden’s place practicing.
If he found out, there would surely be issues—if not for me, then for Mom, who usually was the one picking me up.
Lately, though, I’d had Hayden just drop me off back at the school since he had his driver’s license and have Mom pick me up there.
At least then my lie of staying late after school wouldn’t be a lie for her.
“You think you can manage that?” Alyssa pulled me back out of my thoughts.
I nodded, a little too quickly to be convincing, but I didn’t think she noticed. “I’ll get it done as soon as I can.”
“Perfect. We—Hayden, Keenan, and I—are really excited to have you compete. I think you’ll do really well, Sierra.”
I dipped my chin, trying to hold back the smile but failing. “Thanks.”
When I got back home that evening, having chosen to walk from the school, the air was already tense.
“Where have you been?” A gruff voice greeted me with accusation.
“I had to finish up some work at school.” The lie rolled off my tongue with ease, like I’d been doing it for years—which I had. “Where’s Mom?”
He ignored my question, lifting his nose to sniff the air. “Why do you smell like horse shit?”
I’m surprised you can smell anything other than alcohol.
I rolled my eyes, but it wasn’t subtle enough, because he sprang up from his seat in his recliner and stomped over to me.
Digging his fingers into my forearm, he leaned in close to my face, his breath smelling of cheap booze. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, you little brat. Show some respect.”
Stand your ground. Don’t show any emotion.
“Don’t have anything to say for yourself?”
When I didn’t answer, he gripped my arm tighter and flung me out of the way.
My shoulder banged against the wall, and fiery pain shot down my arm, but I didn’t react. I couldn’t. It would just fuel him even more.
“You and your mother are so ungrateful.” He grabbed a beer bottle off the table next to his chair and paced back and forth, swinging it as he walked. “I do everything for you, and what do I get in return? Nothing but piss-poor fucking attitude.”
The only thing we could do when he started to rant and ramble about how ungrateful and horrible we were was sit there and listen. Take the jabs like a goddamn punching bag.
“I’m sick of it!” His voice rose to a shout, and he threw the bottle on the ground, the glass shattering and bouncing off the floor.
My eyes widened, darting between the glistening shards just inches away from me.
“You tell anyone, and I mean anyone, about this?” He gestured to nothing in particular—or maybe everything. “You’ll fucking regret it. I will make your life hell.”
I believed him.
And that was what I was most afraid of.
Not even for me. Not even for Mom.
But for Hayden.
What would he do if he found out my best friend was the son of a cop?
Grumbling nonsensical words to himself, he plopped back down into his chair, turning on the television to some sports broadcast that was playing. Soon enough, heavy snores filled the room. I got up from my position on the floor and quietly swept up the broken glass before retreating up to my room.
Later that week, during my lunch hour, I went to the library and printed out all of the forms I needed to fill out for membership in the MHSRA.
The forms were simple enough, asking for my basic information, what events I’d like to compete in—I only elected barrel racing—my school information, and signatures at the bottom.
Over the past few days, I studied different forms and paperwork my parents had lying around, practicing their signatures until I could perfectly forge them.
By the time I printed out the forms, the signatures were practically twins.
The hardest part was getting a copy of my birth certificate, but I’d told my mom it was for a school project, and she didn’t really question it.
I was convinced she’d let me do pretty much anything I wanted if it meant I stayed out of her way and didn’t cause her trouble with my dad.
I’d saved up enough money over the last six months to pay for the membership dues, too, doing odd jobs for neighbors and the Watkins family, so all I needed to do was get my transcripts and then submit the forms.
After folding up the papers neatly in my backpack, hiding them inside a book I knew my dad wouldn’t bother to look inside if he snooped, I headed toward the doors of the library.
My mind was so occupied with the forms and everything going on that I didn’t notice the person entering the library as I was exiting.
“Oof!”
“S-sorry,” I muttered before realizing who I’d bumped into.
Hayden laughed. “On a mission?”
My lips flattened into a straight line as my cheeks flushed. “Something like that. What are you doing?”
He gestured toward the bookshelves. “I had to come grab a book for Keenan. He keeps forgetting.”
“Ah.” I nodded.
“I know you were just in there, but do you want to come with me? It shouldn’t be long.”
“Sure.” It was becoming impossible to say no to him, even for something as simple as grabbing a book.
“Cool. Come on, then.” He brushed past me, his hand barely grazing the spot on my arm covered in purple splotches, but it was enough for me to wince at the pain. The bruises were fresh, sensitive enough that even bumping into something hurt.
Hayden pulled back his hand like he’d been burned at the same time I tucked my arm close to my body. “Sierra?” he squeaked out my name.
I turned my head toward him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, with bulging eyes and a gaping mouth. “Yeah?”
“You know I’m always here for you. But I just need to know. You’d tell someone if”—Hayden swallowed—“if someone was hurting you…right?”
My eyes narrowed, and I crossed my arms, tugging my sleeves further down past my wrists. “What are you trying to say?”
“I guess…” His voice trailed off, dejected. “I know people who can help. My dad can—”
“I’m fine, Hayden. I’ve told you this before,” I bit back, unable to control my response—mostly out of the fear of what might happen if my father found out I’d told someone, especially a cop.
Best case scenario, we’d have to move again, and I’d lose the one friend I’d come to care about. I didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario. The best way to protect Hayden was to act like nothing was wrong.
“Pinky swear?” He stuck out his hand, his pinky finger raised.
“Yeah.” It came out as a pathetic whisper because it was a lie. And I was sure both of us knew it was a lie. But I didn’t take his pinky; I just changed the subject. “I got the forms for high school rodeo filled out.”
Hayden’s eyes widened. “Really?”
I smiled, even if it was a forced one, and nodded.
“Wait, and you already got the signatures and everything?” As if by magic, all the worry melted away from his features, replaced by pure excitement instead.
A small breath of relief left my lungs. “I did. I just need to ask the front desk for my transcript then submit the forms.”
“This is incredible, Sierra!”
Before I could even process what was happening, Hayden’s arms were wrapped around my middle in a bear hug and my feet were a few inches off the ground.
His laugh filled the quiet library, and even when the grumpy librarian shushed us, his joy—the warmth of his happiness—enveloped me like a soft blanket on a cold winter day.
He put me down and continued talking as we walked through the aisles of books. I wasn’t sure what he was saying, though. I was deep in my head about the logistics of all this.
I’d not only have to figure out how I was going to get to competitions but also how I was going to explain my absence to my parents. I wasn’t sure spending every weekend at the school was a realistic—or believable—excuse.
Maybe I could get a job somewhere my parents wouldn’t think to go. Working on the weekends wouldn’t be a stretch, and getting a job would be nice to have some spending money anyway, or money to save for when I could finally get out of here.
“Earth to Sierra?” Hayden waved a hand in front of my face.
I snapped out of my daze, blinking a few times. “Hmm?”
“I’m good to go.” He held up the book in his other hand. To Kill a Mockingbird.
“This is the book Keenan needed?” I didn’t peg Keenan for a classics type of guy, or really a book guy in general.
Hayden snorted. “Yeah, apparently. I guess he needs to write a report about it for English class.”
I puckered my lips like a duck. “Interesting.”
Hayden chuckled. “Very.”