Page 13 of The Surprise

Izzy hisses. “Don’t stand there acting like you’re a god or something. Get over here and help.” She tosses a rake his way.

Luckily, Ethan has good hand-eye coordination—better than Izzy’s, anyway. The rake totally would have hit me in the face, but his hand snaps out and catches it before it can.

Moments later, Whitney’s explaining how to do basic barn tasks, like mucking stalls, separating flakes of hay, and refilling chicken feeders, like I grew up in the city. I should really have told Ethan from the start that I grew up riding, that we have chickens of our own, and that I’ve helped grow and cut hay since I was five. In fact, I once got caught in a grain silo and almost died under a million pounds of grain.

But it feels like it’s too late to correct them, so I let them school me, as if I’ve lived in Manila on a working ranch my whole life and yet know nothing. Eventually, though, my Aunt Donna starts honking and it’s time to go.

“It was nice to meet you,” Ethan says. “My cell doesn’t have the best reception up here, but I’d still love to get your number.”

My heart races a bit, and then doubles down yet again when he smiles his crooked smile.

“Oh. Sure,” I say. I rattle off the numbers and he puts them in.

“I want it too,” Maren says.

Ethan waves at her absently. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll text it to you.” He’s still staring right at me, and I know I’ll be thinking of that exact face when I go to sleep tonight.

The whole drive home, his crooked, dimpled smile keeps popping back into my mind, and I wonder if I looked like a dope in that moment. Is it terribly obvious that I like him?

“Did you have fun?” We’re pulling up our long drive, and I realize that little Aiden’s sleeping. I’ve been silent the whole way home, not that it’s too far.

I can’t bring myself to look at my aunt or she’ll immediately know. She’s a pretty smart lady—maybe she already noticed that I like Ethan. “It was fine,” I lie.

“What did you think about Maren?”

“She’s snobby.” I shouldn’t have said that probably, but I’m only capable of hiding one thing at a time, clearly.

“Izzy?”

“She acts even younger than she is.” And she’s so stinking cute, it bugs me. I wish I’d been that sweet or bossily well-intentioned at any point in my life.

“So none of the Brooks children met with your approval?” She sounds like she’s feeling me out for an arranged marriage or something—and then I feel a little panicky. Did she already figure me out?

“My approval?” I need to get back to casual fast. “Uh. Sure.”

“Well, I won’t be likely to be invited over again, but even if I am, I promise not to drag you along.”

Drag me along? Did I take this faking thing too far? I want to be dragged back. Especially if he doesn’t actually text me. “I mean, I’d go over again.”

It hits me then. What if this whole thing wasn’t about welcoming new people at all? What if. . . Could we have gone there for somethingshewants? I think about that guilty look she made when Aiden was in Ethan’s room.

“Wait. Did you say we wouldn’t be likely to be invited over again?” My baloney alarm’s ringing. “Why not? It looked like Aiden loved that cute little guy. What was his name?” I’m pretending that I didn’t fall in love with and memorize the name of every family member so she won’t realize how pathetically starved for attention I am. “Abe?” As if anyone would name their kid that. . .

“Aiden and Gabe got along, but. . .” Aunt Donna sighs. “It’s just a hunch, that’s all.”

A hunch? She has ahunchthat after a lovely dinner and a few hours with a bunch of smiling kids, her son, who has no friends, will never be invited back? That does not compute. And now the whole thing feels. . .off. “Nothing in this family’s a hunch.” I can’t help myself. I squeeze the armrest and start thinking about possible reasons she’d want to go over there if she didn’t want to be friends. None of them are good. “Don’t lie.”

“Look, I didn’t mean anything. It’s just that people in this town aren’t always welcoming to outsiders and—”

“That’s because there aren’t any outsiders.” Is she kidding right now? How stupid does she think I am? “When’s the last time someone new moved here?”

“Aiden and I—”

“Someone who didn’t grow up here,” I snap. “You know what I mean. Manila’s usually the land that time forgot.”

Aunt Donna cringes. “Look, I’ve got to get Aiden in bed, and it’s past time for you to be—”

“It’s nine-forty-one on a Saturday night.” I can’t help scoffing. “I’m seventeen, notseven.”

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