Ray - 11 Years Old
I pushed through the woods, prickles and brambles snagging on my jeans as I went. I was suddenly glad I had listened and worn jeans instead of the shorts I’d originally planned on wearing.
Daddy told me to make sure I dressed in tough clothes if I planned to venture out into the woods.
I don’t think he’d be very happy about how far I had gone from the house, though, right before dinner.
I hadn’t meant to walk this far, but I’d honestly gotten a little lost as I tried to remember which way was back to the house and which way was farther into the woods.
I heard the gurgle of water, letting me know I was for sure heading the wrong way.
Daddy was going to be so mad at me for getting lost out here.
He had told me to stick to the surrounding property, but I just kept walking and walking, relishing the quiet, which was hard to come by at home.
It was almost dark, and I knew soon that he and Mama would be getting the rest of the kids ready for bed, and I needed to figure out how to make my way back.
I pushed through some very thick branches and on the other side found the water I had been hearing. A pretty stream wound past the trees, so I approached the bank, testing the temperature of the water with my fingers.
Past the sandy water’s edge, I felt my sneaker slipping in the mud and braced myself for the inevitable fall that was coming.
Before my butt could hit, a hand reached out and grabbed my elbow.
I tensed, my breath catching in my throat because I hadn’t noticed anyone else here. A scream threatened to jump out of my throat.
This was it. I was going to die. An axe murderer was going to kill me, chop my body into bits, and I’d never be seen again.
All because I couldn’t just stick to the woods around the house like Mama and Daddy had told me to.
“Whoa. Don’t fall,” a boy’s voice grumbled from behind me. I could hear the old Southern twang in the way he talked, but he sounded young, which took me by surprise.
I took a chance and pried my eyes open to see my attacker, figuring if I got away, I could at least describe the person who assaulted me.
Except it wasn’t an attacker at all; it was a boy around my age who looked boyishly charming and nothing like the murderer I’d envisioned.
“You gonna scream? I don’t really need my ma and pops thinking I’m out here hurtin’ someone.”
My voice finally came back as my heart rate slowed. I was still hesitant, but this boy seemed innocent enough.
Actually, now that I got a good look, he was kinda cute. He had scruffy blond hair that reached almost over his ears, curling upward like he’d been wearing a hat all day.
His eyes were dark brown, like chocolate syrup. He had tiny little freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and nose that looked like stars scattered through the night sky.
“No, I’m not going to scream. But please don’t kill me,” I huffed as he helped steady me before letting go of my arm.
“Kill ya?” he chuckled, snagging a cowboy hat off the ground and plopping it back on his head.
Well, there was the reason his hair looked the way it did, the blond locks curling underneath the wide brim. “Why would I kill ya?”
“I don’t know. I just figured it was creepy to be walking through the woods at night. It’s something a killer would do.” I straightened my shirt and brushed off my pants, hoping to get rid of the sweaty palms that had cropped up after noticing his proximity and relative attractiveness.
Why was this boy suddenly making me nervous?
I took another look at him. He definitely looked familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I knew him from, and we were still relatively new to town.
Ignoring my rambling about serial killers, he brushed the dirt from his jeans.
“You’re the new girl, right? Just got here last month?” he asked, putting his thumbs in his belt loops.
He looked like a tried-and-true cowboy with his jeans, button-down shirt with pearls on the snaps, and black cowboy hat atop his head, standing with an air of confidence that can’t be taught.
“Uh. Yeah.” I hummed skeptically. I wasn’t about to give some random stranger in the woods all the intimate details of my life.
“I remember my ma saying something about a new family that moved in next door, but we haven’t had a chance to come over and introduce ourselves yet, on account of it being calving season and all.
” He kicked at the ground around the bank, a small stone tumbling into the water and making a tiny splash.
I wondered whether he knew how to skip rocks.
“Do you know how to skip rocks?” I blurted out, not bothering to respond to his previous statement about living next door. Apparently, my mouth had a mind of its own.
“Uh… not really.” His brow furrowed in confusion, but it didn’t seem like my abrupt change in subject really phased him. He looked at me with an examining stare, like he was trying to figure me out, but there was no judgment in his eyes.
“I know how to skip rocks,” I said with an air of confidence, straightening my back and flicking my pigtail braids over my shoulders. I could at least pretend that he wasn’t making me nervous.
“That’s actually pretty cool.” His smile stretched across his face, and little swirly butterflies flapped in my belly. I’d never felt that before.
I wondered if I was coming down with a stomach bug. Izzy had been sick last week, so maybe I’d caught what she had. Hopefully, I didn’t puke in front of this guy.
“So.. Are you—”
“Rayna!!” I heard Mama’s faint shouting from the back porch. She didn’t sound frantic—yet—but I knew if I didn’t start moving my butt and quickly, she was going to lose her mind.
“That’s my mama. I’ve gotta go,” I said, hiking a thumb over my shoulder in the direction I assumed was my house.
“Do you want me to walk you back?” the boy asked, scratching at the back of his neck with what looked to be a little bit of nervousness. Okay, so I wasn’t the only one nervous here.
“Actually, that would be cool. I kinda got lost on the way out here, which is how I ended up by the water.”
“The Cove,” he corrected. I furrowed my brows in confusion and tilted my head to one side.
“The Cove?” I asked, hoping he would clarify.
“Yeah, this little stream and clearing are called the cove. It’s where the town got its name from, or so my ma says,” he explained. “It’s halfway between my house and yours. We live on the other side, over there.”
He pointed toward the thick portion of the forest behind me. It was starting to get dark, so I was honestly thankful he had offered to walk me back to my house.
I wasn’t super comfortable walking alone in the dark; plus, I wasn’t sure I could figure out which way I needed to go.
“Come on, I’ll walk you back; maybe you can tell me the secret to skippin’ rocks,” he said, gesturing for me to walk toward where we’d heard Mama yellin’ from.
We walked side by side, chatting about little things as we went. I learned that his name was Wade Alexander Daniels and that he had a twin. His brother Max and he were fraternal twins, meaning they didn’t look alike but were born at the same time.
I also learned that he was a little older than me. He was thirteen, meaning he’d be heading off to high school next year.
For some reason, even in the short time we’d spent talking, that made me a little sad. I enjoyed talking to Wade, and I hadn’t really gotten a chance to make many friends since moving here.
Having seven younger siblings meant I was asked to help out a lot at home. It didn’t leave much room for hanging out with friends.
I told Wade all about my siblings, easily rattling off all seven of their names and ages.
All the way from Isabella, the closest in age to me, to Benedicto, who was still a tiny baby.
It was always a challenge for people to remember all of their names, so I normally resorted to just telling them I had three younger sisters and four younger brothers.
Wade talked animatedly about the horses they kept on their ranch, rattling off their names just as easily as I had my siblings.
He told me all about wanting to be a rodeo star when he got older, although he said he wasn’t crazy enough to compete as a bronc rider. He wanted to work with cattle and roping. I told him that sounded mean for the cows, but he assured me that it was relatively safe.
There wasn’t ever an awkward moment between us, and as the back porch of my house came into view, I started getting a little sad that we weren’t going to be able to talk much longer.
I couldn’t imagine a thirteen-year-old boy really wanting to be seen hanging around with an eleven-year-old girl, outside the comfort of our little bubble in the woods.
“Uh, so, thanks for walking me back to the house. I probably would have gotten lost again had I tried.” I chuckled.
Wade was so easy to talk to, and I was glad he’d stumbled upon me in the woods, even if he hadn’t quite proven he wasn’t a killer yet.
“Ain’t no problem, Sunshine,” he drawled. A small smile curved at the corner of his mouth, and I loved the little dimple that popped up as his lips kicked up on one side.
“Oh, we’re on a nickname basis now?” I elbowed him playfully as I laughed.
“I mean, you’re kinda cool. You don’t act like all the rest of the girls I know.”
“Yeah, I bet you know a lot of girls.” I huffed.
A blind girl could have seen that he was cute. Any girl looking at him would have fallen over themselves to get a peek at those dimples and listen to that Southern twang.
He had an old Western cowboy charm about him, and I was sure he probably had a girlfriend—most cute thirteen-year-old boys did.
“I mean, I know some, but none of them want to skip rocks or talk about horses with me.” He adjusted his cowboy hat to cover his eyes, and I kicked it back up with the flick of my wrist.
“Okay, John Wayne,” I teased as he adjusted his hat back over his eyes. I could see a faint blush creep over his cheeks, and it made me smile, knowing I made him as nervous as he made me.
“Most of the girls I know are all boy crazy right now. None of them want to be just friends. They’re all about kissin’ and stuff.”
“I’ll be your friend.” My mouth fired before I even had a chance to think about what was coming out of it. He probably thought I was just as bad as those boy-crazy girls who wanted to kiss and stuff.
“I think I’d like that.” His smile was wide as he held out his hand for a handshake. “Shake on it?”
“Well, if we’re going to be friends, best friends, we should probably have a secret handshake.
” I tapped my finger to my lips, thinking of a secret handshake on the fly.
I didn’t want him to think I was some little kid, so it needed to be something short and easy, not something like elementary school kids do on the playground.
“Give me your hand,” I said, standing directly beside him and extending my left hand out to my side. To anyone else, it would look like I was trying to hold his hand.
Without hesitation, he put his right hand in mine, his stance rigid beside me. I felt little prickles spread throughout my fingers, but I ignored them as I squeezed my grip three times, one after the other.
“There,” I said definitively, releasing his hand. He looked up at me, a confused expression on his face.
“That’s it?” he questioned.
“Yep. Three squeezes. One for each word in ‘best friends forever,’” I said with an air of confidence. The handshake wasn’t elaborate, but it felt natural, and it was subtle enough to be hidden from anyone else. It felt right.
“Okay. Best friends forever,” he said, grabbing hold of my hand again and squeezing three times in quick succession just like I had done.
He let go as quickly as he’d grabbed it, and I suddenly wished he didn’t have to leave.
But I could see Mama sitting on the porch waiting for me, a grumpy look on her face.
“I’ll see you later,” I said as I walked toward the back of my house, waving animatedly over my shoulder.
“See you later, Sunshine,” he called after me, and I smiled. I liked it when he called me Sunshine. Those butterflies started flying all around my belly when he did.
When I got about halfway back, I turned around. I saw Wade walking back into the thick brush, and I shouted after him before he disappeared.
“Hey, Wade!” He turned back around, one eyebrow cocked up in question. “Since we’re using nicknames now, I’m gonna call you Waddle.”
“Waddle?” he asked, his eyes growing wide at the obnoxiously stupid nickname I’d come up with on a whim.
“Your initials are W-A-D, so it seemed better than just calling you Wad.”
He shook his head and laughed, clearly amused by my answer. I added a tally in the “win” column of my best friend’s playbook.
Without responding, he turned back to the woods to head to his house. I didn’t miss the smile that split across his face or the gentle shake of his shoulders in laughter as he turned away from me.
As I reached the top of the stairs, Mama was sitting in her rocking chair with a knowing grin plastered on her face, replacing her earlier scowl.
“?Quién era esa Princesa?” Who was that, Princess? she asked, sipping the lemonade that rested beside her.
“Mi mejor amigo.” My best friend, I responded, the impish grin never leaving my face.
Mama just shook her head and sighed. She stood and used her gentle fingers to brush a hand across the crown of my head. Leaning over, she placed a tender kiss on my forehead.
“?Ah, es así?” Ah, is that so? She smirked, still shaking her head as she walked back through the sliding glass door into the kitchen.
I sat in the rocking chair on the back porch for another ten minutes, replaying the conversation Wade and I had shared. I don’t think the devil himself could wipe the smile from my face if he tried. I was too smitten with my new best friend, the cowboy next door.