Page 49 of Snowballed

I watch as Pie and Pancake go through a similar mating dance. Pie acts more interested. She twitches her tail in the goat equivalent of a bootie shake.

“How come you never did that when we went out?” Bobby asks with a big grin.

“Didn’t need to,” replies Zoe. Something in their easy banter makes me feel excluded—they’re so well-suited to each other with their love of farming. Farms are so elemental: life, death, and sex. I’m only a tourist passing through this lifestyle.

Bobby laughs. “So sue me. I’m a man with healthy appetites.”

Zoe blushes and steers the conversation into a discussion of how long Pancake is going to stay here. I listen to their banter. They’ve clearly known each other for years.

Feeling useless, I grab my bag and head into the house. I’m angry, not at Zoe or Bobby, but more at myself. If Zoe’s dreams are to stay on the farm, maybe I shouldn’t be messing with her. She’d be better off with someone like Bobby.

17

Zoe

Maybe my kisses should be registered as a deadly weapon, because they seem to have killed anything Noah felt for me. There used to be a vibe between us, and now there’s nothing.

And unless I turn into a voodoo priestess, I can’t sacrifice a chicken every time I want Noah to kiss me. Besides, even though our circumstances were bizarre, there was a vibe between us. I like him, and I thought he felt… something too. What can I do? I certainly can’t go back to hating him again.

Since he got back from the road trip, Noah seems to be avoiding me. We haven’t carpooled, and all our conversations have been superficial and chilly. I guess a kiss is no big deal to a Burling-ten-ten. Even if it was mind-bendingly hot.

Still, we have to keep living together, so I’ll have to smooth things over even if it will be awkward.

When I hear Noah get home from practice, I go out to do chores.

“Can you give me a hand? I need to trim hooves today,” I say.

“Sure, let me get changed,” he says. We head out to the barn together. We put Win into the milking stand, trapping her head and giving her some bonus food.

“Hold up her foot, and I’ll do the clipping,” I say.

I clip the hoof and check for any problem spots. She looks good.

“Next foot, please.”

Noah makes a face. “Jesus. Why do the goats smell so bad these days? Is it because Pancake smells so bad?”

“I don’t think you want to know the details. Let’s just say that urine is a part of the mating ritual.”

“Ugh. You’re right, I don’t want to know. How long is Pancake staying with us?”

“Only a week. Bobby is going to bring over Marshmallow next.”

“Marshmallow?” Noah asks.

“Yeah, another buck named by John’s kids. Except he’s like a burnt marshmallow: black and white. I’m no genetic expert, but I think it’s better if the same goat doesn’t impregnate all the does.” I can tell by Noah’s creased forehead that once again I’m going full farm-nerd.

“It’s nice of Bobby to help you,” Noah says.

“I guess. But it’s not out of the goodness of his heart. I’m paying John the stud fees. I assume Bobby gets paid for doing the transport.”

Noah lets Win out, and we bring another doe in. “Still, Bobby seems extra interested in your farm.”

“If by interested, you mean he likes to lecture me on what I’m doing wrong, then yes.”

Noah responds with the first real smile I’ve seen this week. “You do like to argue with guys.”

“Only when they’re wrong,” I say.

---