Racing Through Cornfields

By Lisa Loomis

A courageous, emotionally charged story about love, loss, and finding one’s self.

Ryan Walker can’t wait to set out and conquer the world with his buddies. With high school graduation on the horizon their talk of leaving the rural farming town of Belleville, New York is on the verge of reality. As Ryan gets more excited about the impending change his buddies start getting cold feet. Is Ryan strong enough in his resolve to stick to the plan?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa Loomis
• Release date: Apr 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311644565

Lisa Loomis

Lisa Loomis was born in Oakland California and raised in San Jose until she was a sophomore in high school. Her father then took a job in the San Diego area where he moved the family to Escondido, California (or hickville as she called it). She finished high school at San Pasqual High then went to junior college at Palomar JC, ultimately graduating from San Diego State University with a BS in Finance. Lisa started a career in mortgage banking in San Diego, California, briefly shifted to a corporate job as a territory sales representative, and then back to mortgage banking in 1996 when the family moved from the San Diego area to Park City, Utah. The move to Park City was prompted by a desire for a lifestyle change. Both she and her husband Dennis wanted to raise their two children in a smaller town environment that was still close to a large city. In Park City Lisa not only ran a mortgage branch but simultaneously helped Dennis run a successful construction company, Loomis Construction. Working full time, running a construction company in off hours, and raising two children was never easy but Lisa seemed to handle it all pretty well until the financial meltdown of 2008. That is when the wheels came off...completely. Finding both her career in mortgage banking and the family business almost vanish overnight Lisa went back to a passion she’s always had, writing. It took Lisa almost four years to write “Boy In A Band”, stopping and starting, telling herself she couldn’t write a book. Once it was written Lisa foolishly thought the hard part was finished. In the last ten years Lisa has continued to help her husband with their construction business as well as spends time writing. Lisa’s currently lives and writes in Park City, Utah. She has been married for twenty-nine years and enjoys spending time with their grown children who live in Salt Lake City. Self-published books on Amazon.

Book preview

LISA

LOOMIS

Racing Through Conrfields

ALSO BY LISA LOOMIS

Morgan Mallory Series

Boy In A Band

Casanova Cowboy

Racing Through Cornfields

Back To Boardwalk

Other Novels

A Horse Named Joe

Gem Rats

Seeking Normal

Just Bairre

A Short Memoir

Stolen Dreams

Children’s Books

Finn & Geo’s Winter Adventure

Short Stories

Pelican Grand

Copyright © 2018 Lisa Loomis

The right of Lisa Loomis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

www.lisaloomisbooks.com

Third Edition

ISBN 978-1722664855

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To the small town boy in my life.

Racing Through Cornfields

Note From The Author:

Racing Through Cornfields is Ryan Walker’s story, a pivotal character in the Morgan Mallory series, to the point where he meets Morgan Mallory. I hope that you enjoy a different characters perspective in this novel.

Chapter 1

It was still dark outside, black. Not even the shadows from daylight starting to show. If Ryan didn’t know the actual time he would have guessed the dead of night. Some mornings seemed so early, and today was one of those. He rolled to his side and dropped his feet to the cold wooden floor. He rubbed his eyes and then pushed back his curly hair. Unfortunately, the cows wouldn’t wait, they needed to be milked on time. Most of the time he looked forward to getting to the barn, but not today, not after last night. No frikin day off from cows, no matter how low I feel. Ryan stood and stretched with a small groan before he threw on his jeans and a T-shirt and walked out to the kitchen. He parted the white lace curtains and put his face close to the window in order to see out before he turned on the light. Yep, it’s still snowing. It was that time of year: spring one minute, snowing the next.

He still couldn’t believe what he’d heard last night at Mark’s house when he’d stopped by after basketball practice. He’d showered in the high school locker-room, and his hair was still wet, when he’d walked to his Jeep. Ryan had sold his ’63 Chevy and combined with other savings bought the Jeep. It was blue with a white top, windows that unzipped, and a top he could take off, he thought it was cool as hell. The cold air had torn through his jeans and even his jacket. Wet hair hadn’t helped either. He’d sat shivering in the parking lot until the Jeep heated up a bit. Passing by Mark’s house on his way home he’d noticed all the boys cars parked out front so he’d stopped. Mark, David, and Owen were all hanging out, sprawled out in the living room. They all appeared a little nervous when he’d walked in. Ryan, staring out the window, played the conversation back in his mind.

How was practice? Mark asked.

Practice, you know. How come you weren’t there? Ryan asked taking a seat in a plaid worn recliner.

Stepped in a hole out back and turned my ankle. Thought it best to not jump on it for a bit.

Oh, Ryan said rocking slightly.

The three boys looked at him and then averted their eyes. Ryan looked around the room at each of them. It felt like something was up, like they had been talking about him and now the conversation had ceased because he’d showed up. It wasn’t like his best friends to act secretive around him.

What’s up? he asked. You guys been talking about me?

Ryan sat forward and rubbed his hands on his thighs, still feeling cold. Mark raised his head and looked at Ryan. Ryan’s brow furrowed in question. Mark quickly glanced around the room at the other boys and then back at Ryan.

Jessie and you call it quits? Mark asked tentatively.

No, Ryan answered, with a puzzled grin.

No? Owen questioned, looking surprised.

Owen had been reclined on the vinyl imitation leather couch, but now he sat upright. Ryan felt his heart beat faster. The kind of feeling he had when not so good news was coming.

No, Ryan said again firmly.

Now the boys looked at each other, tenseness in their lips, before looking back at Ryan. Ryan searched their eyes. Mark sat back in the recliner that was the mate to Ryan’s. He could see a spot on the arm that the fabric had torn and the white lining was showing through. David adjusted himself on the wooden dining chair that he’d pulled from the table.

What the hell? Ryan asked, hoping they were just giving him grief and would all start to laugh.

The boys sat mute and it was obvious no one wanted to talk. Ryan glanced at Mark and saw him sigh. David refused to look at him. Ryan figured whatever it was it probably wasn’t something he wanted to hear.

Come on, guys, what’s up? Ryan asked with a nervous chuckle.

Ah, Mark said, hanging his head.

Ryan looked at each of their faces, wondering what it could be that they didn’t want to tell him. These were his buddies, they told each other everything, they’d grown up together. What the fuck do they know that I don’t? He felt his face go flush despite his being cold. Owen started to shake his leg and he bit the side of his lip apprehensively.

Has something happened to Jessie? Ryan asked fearfully.

We heard that Barry was with Jessie the other night, Owen said rapidly, as if the words tasted bad.

Ryan rotated slowly towards Owen. He had caught Jessie flirting with Barry in the hall just last week. It wasn’t like her, but Barry was another story.

Was with her, like how? Ryan asked. What night?

I’m with Jessie every night, or she’s home. Ryan looked around the room again. By the look on their faces he knew what they meant.

Last Friday night, Owen answered.

Ryan had been helping his brother move he remembered. He’d been out late, too late to call Jessie and he hadn’t asked her what she’d done that night.

So what did you hear? Ryan asked with a grimace.

The boys looked at each other again.

Come on, guys, Ryan asked, frustrated by them.

The three boys fidgeted. Ryan could feel a lump rise up in his throat, threatening to convey emotion if he spoke again, so he just waited.

He banged her, Mark finally said, looking him in the eye. Sorry, Ryan.

––––––––––––

Ryan had stared at his friends in disbelief, waited for one of them to say something else. He’d felt like he’d been sucker punched, the air completely pushed out of his lungs. He’d walked out zombie like from Mark’s house, gotten in his Jeep, and headed home. He’d driven by Jessie’s house first and looked at the lights in the window, wondering if what they’d said could be true. He shook his head, trying to make the conversation go away. It’s true…you know it is. His best friend banging his girlfriend didn’t seem possible. Hell, I haven’t even banged her. They had gotten pretty close, but he had always put the brakes on. Now he wondered why.

Ryan stood in the cold kitchen and filled a metal pot with some water in the chipped light blue porcelain sink. It clanged against the side as he removed it. No banging! Turning around in the small kitchen he put it on to boil on the electric cooktop. He watched the snow falling through the square window above the sink while he waited. The snow had covered the thawing field and stretched for miles, white, white, and more white. It was time for winter to be over. Maybe Jessie and me too. When he heard the water boil, he measured out the oatmeal and emptied it into the boiling water. He waited for it to bubble and then stirred it until it was thick. His thoughts kept returning to his friend’s behavior and then pictures of Jessie in the hall giggling with Barry earlier in the week. She’d brushed it off as nothing, said Barry was telling her a joke was all. Ryan put some oatmeal in a bowl and sprinkled a little brown sugar on it. The joke is on me. He ate the hot mush standing at the sink, staring outside.

He’d had lunch with Jessie yesterday and nothing seemed different, and he wondered if maybe the boys heard wrong. There was a tiny ray of hope that his heart was holding onto, but his mind wasn’t buying it. Irritated with his feelings Ryan grabbed his brown Carhartt jacket and slipped his tatty leather boots on, then bent down to lace them up. He yanked hard at the laces on each rivet as he did so, breaking one lace and having to tie it together. Either way his heart felt heavy, but he would have to deal with that later. Ryan put on his new work gloves, still much stiffer than his old ones, but no holes, and walked out the creaky back door leading into the garage. He held the screen door out and closed it slowly so it wouldn’t slam. Once outside the cold of the morning bit at his nose and the edges of his ears as he walked down the road towards Smith’s farm. He pushed his jacket up around his neck with his shoulders as his breath floated out like cartoon bubbles into the air. The snowflakes had slowed from earlier and fell now like ash from the dark sky.

Ryan reflected back on when he’d gone to work on Smith’s farm. It was hard to believe it had been three years already. He had started his sophomore year. He’d been in search of a job he could work around school and still make some money. Milking cows was perfect because it had to be done twice a day, very early in the morning and then again late after school. Reaching the barn he watched the light over the barn door reflect the snowflakes. No Jesse, make them wrong. With a heavy sigh he reached for the handle. The barn door shuttered as he slid it open and then closed it behind him.

Ryan, Mr. Smith called as he entered the barn.

He didn’t look up from the cow he had just thrown the strap over. Smitty pulled the strap firmly then placed the silver milker up onto her teats.

Mornin’, Smitty.

He was a stooped old guy who had never been a big talker. A kind of question and answer guy, yes, no, only giving you what you needed to know. Smitty is what everyone in town called him. Ryan suddenly realized he didn’t even know his first name. Smitty had been a farmer all his life, started with his dad as a young boy.

It’s a good one.

Ryan breathed in the smell of the barn, the hay, the cows, even the manure, he loved the smells, all of them. It had a calming effect on him now that he was here. He went about his duties in silence, working the cows in the row opposite Smitty. The quiet was only broken by a moo now and then, the swish of a tail, or the scrapping sound made as they moved their wooden stools. The milking machines low hum was the only constant. As he washed the next cows teats with the soapy sponge then rinsed them off, his thoughts drifted back to Jessie. Could she really do that to me? He had been so respectful of her, not moving forward because he didn’t want to take advantage of her or disappoint her parents. Suddenly he felt very stupid. He’d seen the look in her eyes, the smile on her lips as she leaned against the wall in the hall talking to Barry. Ryan had let her talk it away. Then Barry, if it was true… What the hell was he thinking, you don’t bang your best friend’s girl! The cow Ryan was working on kicked, and he missed getting the machine on her teats. Damn it! When they finished milking, they had to drag the heavy milk containers down each row and dump it into the large vats that circulated it out to the tank in the front of the barn. Lastly he helped Smitty drain out the cleaning buckets and rinse out the sponges, and then sterilize the equipment. Ryan’s hands were nearly frozen as he hung the buckets up, even the gloves could only help so much.

I’m headed out.

Ryan, Smitty said, nodding his head, a slight grin on his weathered lips.

Smitty wore jean overalls, a faded Carhartt jacket, and a red baseball cap when he milked. His hands looked like wrinkled leather, and his face was about the same. He had very deep lines at the corners of his blue content eyes. He kept his thinning gray hair short and he walked with a limp, a tractor injury Ryan recalled. Seemed a lot of farmers got injured by their own equipment. He had a quick flashback to when their next-door neighbor got his hand torn off by an auger. Ryan remembered the guy coming to their front door covered in blood looking for a ride to the doctor.

It was starting to get light as Ryan walked back home to get ready for school. The sun spread it’s golden orange hues across the horizon, the blue of the sky just creeping in behind it, drowning out the night sky, making it almost purple. He stepped into the one car garage through the side door. It was cold and dark as he reached for the light switch on the wall. The single clear bulb lit up, the filament inside glowing brightly, unlike Ryan’s mood. How could you Jess? Skirting between his dads old Mercury and the workbench piled high with clutter he made his way to the back stairs where he took of his boots. He exhaled as he placed them to one side and turned off the light before he walked into the small laundry room. The screen door banged shut as he took off his coat and gloves.

Morning, his mom called.

She was standing at the sink washing dishes. The kitchen smelled of heated butter and fried eggs, something she usually cooked for his dad before he went off to work.

Still snowing, she commented, as she turned off the water and stripped off her yellow washing gloves.

Little, seems to be slowing down.

Ryan shook his curly blond hair out, knocking out the snow.

How’s Smitty this morning?

Smitty, he said with a shrug.

His mom chuckled, a kind of low I get you sound. She was in her blue housecoat, which was old and worn, instead of the light pink one they’d given her for Christmas. Ryan smiled and wondered if she didn’t like the new robe or if old habits were hard to break. She opened the wooden cabinet that held cups and glasses and pulled out her favorite cup, a dainty small cup, teal in color with a white interior. It was a women’s cup, the angular handle too small for a man’s hand.

Coffee? she asked still holding the cabinet open.

Sure, Ryan said as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

A vinyl yellow-checkered tablecloth covered the wooden table. Ryan noticed his mother had been working on the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. The paper was folded open, her pen resting on top of it next to the napkin holder that sat in the middle of the table with salt and pepper shakers. Small restaurant style shakers with pink tops that you had to press open.

Dad off? Ryan asked.

His mom set her cup down on the tablecloth along with a heavier brown mug for him before she turned to the stove for the coffee pot.

Course.

You on lunch duty today? he asked as she poured the steaming brown liquid into each cup.

Ryan breathed in the roasted smell of the coffee as he wrapped his hands around the warm mug. His mother reached for the glass sugar dish on the counter with the small silver spoon and brought it to the table before she sat down.

Nope, off today. It’s Betsy’s day.

She put her glasses back on and gazed at the puzzle as Ryan stirred in some sugar.

You want me to fry you an egg?

No thanks, not feeling very hungry this morning. Had some oatmeal early.

He pictured his buddies nervously glancing at one another last night as he sipped his coffee. The thought made his stomach turn. His mom wrote out another word in the puzzle.

I’m going to go shower, Ryan said as he finished his coffee.

His mom glanced up at him, her hair still rumpled from sleep, and then out the slider by the table at the lightly falling snow.

They say it’s going to be a hot summer.

Sure wish it would get here, Ryan said pushing his chair in.

The hot water felt good washing over his shoulders after the cold walk home. As he lathered himself with soap he thought about Jessie’s hands on his skin, on his chest, feeling the muscles in his arms. How soft they had been, how many times she’d made his dick hard with her touch. But she’d fucked Barry! Don’t think about it. He pushed the thought from his mind as he rinsed off, letting the water run over him longer than usual. Yanking the blue plastic shower curtain back he reached for a towel. Drying off quickly he wrapped the towel around his waist and looked into the partially fogged mirror. His blond, curly hair was wet and messy. Pulling a comb from the drawer, he combed it to the side to try and calm it down. Do not fight me today.

Ryan slid open the mirrored cabinet and pulled out his razor. His face was narrow, like his dad’s he thought, but he was pretty good-looking. Not as good-looking as Barry, but certainly more loyal. After he’d shaved he leaned in closer to the mirror, inspecting his face: his skin looked good, no pimples, and his blue eyes were bright. Ryan stared at his image as he brushed his teeth, the chalky Crest toothpaste foaming in his mouth. He looked young, younger than his eighteen years. Jessie said he had a baby face, but in a good way. The bathroom was small and suddenly he felt hot and closed in, his heart beating faster at the thought of her. Ryan spat the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his mouth quickly. Still looking in the mirror, he took a deep breath and hoped again that the boys were wrong. The towel still wrapped around his waist Ryan walked down the orange-carpeted hall to his room. He put on fresh jeans and a light blue button-down shirt. Sitting on the edge of his single bed he put on his shoes. He stood and smoothed out his covers and pulled the brown chenille bedspread up before grabbing his books.

See you, Mom, Ryan said as he headed out the door to his Jeep.

Wait for T, she called. T, Ryan’s leaving, come on or you’ll have to get the bus.

Ryan kept going, shutting the front door loudly behind him. He grinned knowing that T would race around not wanting to miss his ride. T was his younger brother, Thomas, the baby of the family. He thought about how nice it had been when they had gotten their own rooms. They’d shared a room their whole life. When Frank moved out and got married, Jerry had gotten his own room, and then two years later Jerry joined the military after high school. It was like Christmas, the day they’d gotten to move furniture around in their rooms, just the way they liked it. He started the Jeep and turned on the heater as he waited for T. Thomas flew out the front door, his jacket cradling his books. He rushed towards the Jeep pulling the door open quickly and jumped in.

What were you doing? Ryan asked with a smile as he put the Jeep in reverse.

Brushing my teeth, you hogged the bathroom this morning, he complained.

Sorry.

How did she think I wouldn’t find out? They lived in too small a town, word got around.

How was milking? Thomas asked.

Same.

It was a tone Thomas knew, one that let him know Ryan wasn’t up for small talk. T folded his hands in his lap and looked out the window. Ryan counted the days, almost a week had gone by, since the alleged incident, and she had acted perfectly normal. So had Barry. Of course they would... Ryan parked the Jeep in the snowed covered parking lot and jumped out, jerking his books out from the back seat.

See you, Ry, Thomas said hastily before he ran towards the three-story red brick building.

Ryan had been attending Belleville school since kindergarten, and he would finish out high school in the same building. He closed the door to his Jeep slowly and stared at the building. It wasn’t welcoming exactly, rectangular in shape, sort of institutional looking, like a lot of the military barracks in Sackets Harbor. It had square evenly spaced windows trimmed in wood that got painted white every few years. Some of the windows, which were rarely opened, had been painted shut. Twelve years I’ve spent in these halls, twelve years with the same class, class of 1973. Same god damn people, a whopping forty-two of us so ready to graduate, move on with life. He knew a lot of places had different schools for different levels: elementary, middle, high school, but Belleville was just too small to have three different schools. Ryan saw a lone figure moving across the lawn towards the entrance.

David, Ryan called out.

David stopped in his tracks and turned towards Ryan’s.

Hey, he called raising his arm.

Ryan hurried towards him glad he had his coat. The sun had come out, and the snow on the ground was quickly melting, but there was still a chill in the air. David smiled as Ryan reached him.

About last night, what you told me, are you sure? Ryan asked, causing David’s smile to vanish. I mean I just keep thinking about it, and it seems impossible. Seems impossible either of them would do that.

David hung his head and shook it slowly as he buried his hands in his pockets. He was a big guy who played all the sports that the school offered, but he wasn’t very handsome. His straight, thin strawberry blond hair fluttered in the slight breeze as Ryan waited. When he looked back up finally he had a pained expression on his pockmarked face.

Ryan, I wasn’t there, but it’s the word going around, he said and then paused. I hope for your sake it’s wrong.

The first bell rang, a loud buzzing noise.

Me too. Let’s get inside, Ryan said giving David’s back a shove.

Are you going to ask Jessie or just go beat the shit out of Barry? David asked as Ryan opened the front door for him.

I’m going to talk to Jessie…she won’t be able to lie, Ryan said.

Not everyone liked David, but Ryan did. He figured a lot of his class hadn’t taken the time to get to know him, and find out what a great heart he had behind the rough exterior. The pained expression Ryan had seen was real, David didn’t want to see Ryan hurt. They walked side by side through the empty musty hall.

We’re late.

Who the hell cares, we’re seniors, David said.

David Hamstead and Ryan had been friends since first grade when his dad had offered to pay Ryan to occasionally help out on their dairy farm. The farm was on Hamstead Road, one his father, his grandfather, and his great grandfather had all worked. One David swore he would never work once he got out of high school.

When you gonna ask her? David said stopping in front of his first class closed door.

They could see the teacher move behind the opaque glass, could hear him talking. A desk or a chair made a grating sound on the floor above them.

Jessie usually meets me by my locker after first period. I’ll wait till lunch when we have more time before I say anything, Ryan said.

Good luck man, hope it’s just a really bad rumor, David said encouragingly.

Yeah, Ryan grinned half-heartedly as David opened the door to his class.

––––––––––––

Ryan, Jessie said as she approached with a cheerful smile.

Hi, Ryan replied curtly.

He usually would give her a quick peck on the lips, but instead he turned and yanked open his locker, his heart tightening in his chest. Jessie hugged her books to her in confusion, her smile fading. Seeing her drove home the thought of the possible betrayal. How could you? The words wanted to spill from his lips, but he wanted to wait and ask the question the right way.

I’ve gotta get to class early.

He exchanged his books quickly and slammed the locker closed, a little harder than he intended, and it made Jessie jump. Her eyes were wide when he looked at her.

I’ll see you at lunch, he said through clenched teeth as he brushed by her.

Jessie was already seated when Ryan got to the cafeteria, so he picked up a red tray and proceeded through the lunch line. It all looked tasteless and boring, but the women servers loaded his plate a scoop at a time as he moved down the metal counter. With each scoop the nervous feeling he’d had since this morning intensified in his stomach. He picked up silverware and a carton of milk before taking his tray from the counter. He watched Mark and Owen watch him as he made his way towards Jessie. The room was noisy with chatter as his friend’s words again filled his head drowning it out. Jessie was looking down at a textbook and didn’t see Ryan approaching. He sat down, kicking his feet over the bench.

Oh, hi, Jessie said looking up with a smile.

She reached over and patted his thigh, which made him recoil slightly. He looked away from her down to the food on his plate. Picking up his knife and fork he carefully cut a piece of turkey they’d put on his plate. It was smothered in a soupy gravy, too brown in color he thought. He put the bite in his mouth as his stomach knotted again. The meat was chewy. Jesus, can’t they ever make gravy that tastes like gravy and turkey that’s not tough like leather?

What’s up? Jessie asked, leaning forward, a look of concern on her face.

Ryan could feel his face get hot. He chewed the bite slowly and swallowed before he looked at her. He stared at her: her soft blonde hair pulled back and tied with a ribbon in her favorite color, her long eyelashes that outlined her perfectly made-up eyes, her petite nose that turned up slightly at the end, her lips a pale pink from lipstick. He felt a pain in his stomach, and put his fork down and sat up straighter, arching his back. Jessie examined his face, waiting for a response. Ryan searched the lunch crowd. Jessie had chosen their usual table, at the back of the room, where hardly anyone sat. It was like that today too, but today he’d dreaded that table, them being alone, him having to know.

Is there something you want to tell me? Ryan asked, not taking his eyes off her.

She blinked her eyes quickly and then turned away. He waited, and when she didn’t look at him, he took another bite of the tasteless food. Although he had lost his appetite, Ryan chewed the bite methodically while he waited. The fact that she had her back to him confirmed the boys’ news he figured. Her response made him feel like the wind had been knocked out of him. Why, why, why?! He shoved the food tray away from him.

I heard you screwed Barry, and for some odd reason, I have a little problem with that, Ryan said quietly, trying not to let his voice convey his hurt.

Her shoulders slumped forward, and Ryan could see her back start to tremble. When she finally looked at Ryan, tears were running down her face. Ryan stared at her as one big tear after another dropped onto her check. He slumped forward, resting his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. The pain tore through his chest and he sucked air into his lungs pushing it down.

I can’t believe this, Jess, why? he whispered his voice sounding choked.

He suddenly straightened and looked at her, anger replacing the emotion.

"No, no, don’t tell me. The why doesn’t matter really, does it?"

She dropped her eyes from his and stared into her lap, her body still trembling, the tears still coming.

Is it over? she asked softly, her lips quivering.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! He wanted to lash out, hurt her, hurt Barry. Tell the whole world how they had deceived him, but it wouldn’t change a thing. He took another deep breath.

Yeah, it’s over, Ryan answered.

He stood up slowly and picked up his tray. He looked around the cafeteria and saw his friends watching him. Their eyes met, and if they’d had any doubt, they didn’t now.

Ryan, please, let me explain, Jessie begged as she grabbed his arm.

Let go, Jess.

He pulled away from her slowly, so he didn’t spill what was on the tray.

Nothing to explain, Ryan said softly.

A sob burst forth from her, and he didn’t look back at her. Ryan walked to the nearest trashcan and dumped the balance of his food into the receptacle and put the empty tray on top. His body was betraying him. He could feel the knot get tighter in his stomach, and he felt like he might vomit. The tasteless bites of turkey come spewing from his mouth. He certainly didn’t want to do it where everyone would see. Don’t you dare, the truth is embarrassing enough. He walked rapidly down the hall and out of the building towards his Jeep. The sun was out, spring was threatening again. He noticed the buds on the cottonwood trees out front. A new beginning. Ryan pulled the Jeep door open, jumped in, and had started the engine when Jessie came running out the front door of the school.

Ryan, she yelled.

He could see the tears had caused her mascara to run. He stared at her through the windshield as he put the Jeep in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. As he drove away, he saw her crumple, her hands to her knees, her head hanging down. He didn’t know where he was going, but it wasn’t back to school today. He wondered what she’d expected, that he would forgive her? She didn’t know him very well. The whys kept circling in his head as he drove and he wondered if he ever really knew her at all. The pain in his stomach eased as he tried to look at his emotion from a distance, from a place of reason. She’d screwed Barry that was the simple truth. Jessie had fussed and complained about him wanting to leave town after graduation. He had told her to come along, but she didn’t want to leave. She’d shared her dreams of getting married someday and having children, their children. Ryan had bigger dreams than that, bigger dreams than staying in a small town and doing the same things he’d watched everyone do over the years. He’d told her he wanted more, wanted to see places, make more out of himself than be a husband with a menial job. It was like people in Belleville were paralyzed when it came to getting out, they stuck to what they knew.

Ryan drove the back roads, miles and miles of nothing but open space and cornfields, a small farmhouse dotting the landscape now and then. The morning snow had melted leaving the only evidence it had even been there, puddles in the road where the sun hadn’t dried it yet. The fields and hills were just starting to green up, but were still muddy in many places. He absently noticed where some of the farmers had already started to plant corn. Life would go on. Jessie, Jessie, Jessie… In a way she’d made it easy, his decision no longer up for discussion, no trying to guilt him into not leaving. After an hour of his thoughts bombarding his brain, he drove to the Streeter’s barn. Mark would still be in school, his parents both at work, so he would be alone. Ryan slid the barn door open and went up the ramp to where the basketball hoop was. He picked up the ball from the floor and started to shoot hoops. Dribble, dribble, dribble, shoot. Dribble, dribble, dribble, shoot. It was mindless and exactly what he needed.

––––––––––––

Ryan, Mark called out from below. You in here?

Yo, Ryan answered.

What are you doing?

Mark ran up the ramp and stared at Ryan, and then he started to laugh. His laugh loud and hearty before he finally stopped.

I’ve been shooting hoops, Ryan explained.

He was sitting on the basketball in the middle of the makeshift court, his chin resting in his hands, sweat dripping off his jawline onto his jeans.

You look like shit.

Thank you, Ryan said, wiping his brow. Not that easy to have a fast-paced shooting session in jeans.

Hoops helping?

I reckon, run and jump and try not to think. Smash the ball against the backboard and pretend it’s Barry’s head.

Mark came and flopped down onto the floor next to Ryan, legs and arms spreading out. He was tall and gangly, like a big puppy that hadn’t grown into its skin yet. Mark’s thick black hair fell forward into his face as he did so and he shoved it back behind his shoulder. Ryan looked at him with an accepting grin. His hazel eyes always stunned Ryan, they threw most people off guard, like they weren’t meant to be in his face. Gangly, one expected puppy dog eyes, but Mark’s were dreamy and intense and they sucked you in.

Takes two, Mark said.

I know. That’s what’s so confusing, Jessie willing to do that to me.

Ryan rolled back and forth on the ball, gently rocking.

You’ve been too damn nice to her, Mark said. We could tell in the cafeteria when she turned away from you it was true. What’d she say?

Ryan rocked a minute, picturing her face, and the tears. Feeling the gut wrenching feelings. He cocked his head with an exasperated smile.

"She said she wanted to explain. I basically said no. There’s nothing she could say that would make me understand it. Here she’s been fussing about me wanting to leave town after graduation, and she just added a really big reason to go."

Ryan looked over at Mark and shook his head sadly.

Get off the ball, Walker, let’s go, a little one-on-one, Mark ordered, as he jumped to his feet.

You’re ankle.

Screw that.

Chapter 2

Ryan passed Barry in the hall the next day at school, and when he didn’t even look at Ryan, he knew Jessie had told him that he knew. Barry could have her, he wouldn’t keep her long. He never did keep a girl around any length of time. There was always another one around the bend. Barry Cantwell had been his friend since kindergarten. He’d always had Ryan’s back until now, and Ryan wondered what had changed. Barry was about Ryan’s height, but broader, more muscular, and good-looking. He had the look of a model with his chiseled features, dark hair and dark eyes, and olive skin. It didn’t matter where they went, the girls looked at Barry. Ryan had been lucky enough to snag a friend of Barry’s current desire a time or two. Barry’s objective was to play the field: the more girls the better. Ryan had never thought that way. Girls were a mystery, but he thought they should be treated nice and respected. Barry was mainly in the game for the sex. The farthest Jessie and Ryan had gone was oral sex. It was the farthest he’d gone with any girl. He remembered the night in his Jeep, parked down by the creek, when she’d given him his first blowjob. Ryan closed his eyes and pictured her in the seat next to him. The only light in the car was the