Page 5 of Snowballed

“And you’re friendly, but you can’t flirt to save your life. Remember those two German tourists that were in this morning? I could tell that one was dying to ask you out if you gave him the slightest encouragement. But you didn’t.”

“What would be the point of going out with someone who’s only here for a night or two?” Besides, I’m too busy to waste time.

“The point is having a new experience. Maybe you’ll hit it off and end up visiting him in Munich. I know you want a job in tourism after you graduate next year, right?”

I nod. I’m doing my degree at Burlington University in Parks, Rec and Tourism.

“Well you can’t really understand what tourists need unless you travel. After I graduated, I traveled Europe with a girlfriend. That was the best adventure of my life.”

Whereas you could count my adventures on one hand and still have five fingers left. I go over to tidy our display of Hello Burlington T-shirts and caps. Only one more hour left on my shift. Hopefully no one else will come in to highlight my lameness.

Once I get home, I change into my coveralls. The best thing about the summer is that the days are long enough to get things done after work. Today I’m cleaning the pigsty, which is the stinkiest job on the farm. I’m mucking out the stall when my mother comes home.

“Why are you doing this now? Isn’t Rocky coming soon?” she asks.

“Yes, but I’m not expecting her until dinner time.” My best friend is driving here from Montreal.

“Derek’s all moved in now,” she says. My younger brother also goes to Burlington U and plays hockey, but that’s where our similarities end. He’s a junior, and he just moved into the hockey house—ground zero for hockey parties. Whereas I prefer to stay here on the farm and commute.

My mother’s forehead creases. “Have you had any responses to that room and board ad yet?”

“Not yet.” My brother leaving means there’s nobody here to do the farm chores on the weekends I’m away for hockey. My one brilliant idea was trading Derek’s room in exchange for farm work, but I haven’t had any takers yet. It’s shocking to me, because what could be more fun than living on a farm?

My mother crosses her arms, and I dread what’s coming next.

“Zoe, we’ve had this discussion before. I know you love the farm, but it’s too much work.”

“We’ll figure something out. Meantime, Derek can come back and pitch in.”

My mother shakes her head. “He’s moving out so he can have a real college experience. And you should have moved to campus too. It’s your last year of college. You should be having fun.”

“I’m happy to do all the farm chores, you don’t have to do anything.” My mother wants to sell the farm. Ever since my father passed, she’s wanted to move to the city.

“Our deal was that if you could find someone to help with work, we could stay. But you haven’t.”

I’ve staved off this discussion through diversion and procrastination. “School hasn’t started yet. I’m sure someone will respond to my ad.” There’s no money to pay anyone to do the extra chores. My only other option is asking my ex Bobby Cooper if he’ll pitch in, but that would open a can of very unpleasant worms. Worms that want us to start dating again.

My mother sighs loudly. “You’re full of optimism, Zoe. But if you don’t find anyone, we’re going to have to sell. We could move into Burlington, and then I’d be close to work and you’d be close to school.”

No way. Someone will answer my ad. They have to, because I don’t want to leave. All my memories of my dad are here.

My mother still looks unhappy.

“Don’t worry, Mom.” I pause because that’s what the best comedians do before a punchline. “Prince Farming will show up.”

She doesn’t even crack a smile. My sense of humor goes unappreciated once again. I get back to work. Not only does pig poop stink more than any farm manure, it’s also stickier. I may need two showers after this. When the sty is as clean as it’s getting, I herd Hammy back inside.

“Pretty nice new pad, huh?”

Hammy looks up at me. Her sweet face looks like she’s smiling. Pigs are by far the smartest animal on the farm, but you can’t get too attached. Still, it’s hard not to like them. I pour out a bucket of kitchen scraps and add a few of her favorite windfall apples. She is now as happy as a pig in you-know-what.

I hose off the surface layer of grime, then head into our mudroom to get changed. I smell awful, and I suspect there’s even pig poop on my forehead. But I’m freshly showered and changed by the time I hear a car in the driveway.

“Rocky’s here,” my mother calls.

My best friend’s full name is Marie Josée Laroque. We both play defense for Moo U women’s team, and Rocky is short for Laroque. I burst out of the front door.

“Zee!” Rocky calls out. She emerges from a fancy SUV, and we hug. It’s been months since I’ve seen her in person, and I’ve missed her horribly.

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