Page 46 of Enemy Crush
Realizing the van would be full, I shifted along to the middle seat just as the last student rushed up. And my heart stopped.
Miller Trask stood at the door, his Hamlin Farms cap on backwards. I held my breath as I waited for him to realize the only vacant seat was next to me.
“Ahh, there you are, Miller. Not like you to be running late.” Mrs. Burbank wasn’t cross, but brimming with joy that he’d arrived.
“Yep, just had something to do,” he said, breathing hard like he’d run all the way here.
I’m not sure why it never crossed my mind that Miller would likely do the potato harvest. I mean, he definitely looked the part, all tall and ruggedly rough in his hoodie and jeans and workboots. And now, waiting for him to recognize me, a bunch of butterflies stirred in my stomach, along with a growing panic of how to explain my reason for being here.
Would he believe that I wanted to ‘participate in tradition’ or should I spin a story about stepping outside ‘my comfort zone.’ I suppose it didn’t matter, just as long I didn’t mention money. Miller would have noticed my Jeep was no longer around and seeing me mow our lawns might have given him some cause for suspicion. I could only hope that we didn’t have to work together.
Miller scanned the back of the van before realizing that the last available seat was in the front row. And then as he sat down, there was a pause, a beat where he stiffened and blinked fast like his eyes were deceiving him.
“Hi?” I offered a half smile, not sure if I was a welcome sight or his worst nightmare.
“What are you doing here?”
Okay, yes, I was his worst nightmare, the last person he wanted to sit next to. Thank goodness Mrs. Burbank tapped her mic.
“Right, good morning everyone!” Her voice cheerily resounded through the van like she was a tour guide. “Welcome everyone. We’re off to Hamlin Farms today and let me tell you they are delighted that y’all have signed up for the Spud Harvest. Now, I know I have some experienced workers and I’m so pleased to have you back.” She giggled like a school girl.“But it’s also great to have some new recruits onboard. I know we’re gonna have a ton of fun!”
Miss Harris, also an art teacher, took over the mic and thanked us for our vital service to the community. But I switched off, sitting ramrod straight in my seat, barely daring to breathe, because obviously Miller wasn’t thrilled about me being here. I feared this was going to be areallylong drive to the farm.
But the second Miss Harris stopped talking, Miller dipped his head and slouched, his arm momentarily brushing against mine. There was nowhere for his long legs to go though, confined by the small amount of legroom.
“I had no idea you’d signed up,” he murmured, like he didn’t want to be overheard speaking to me.
I shrugged but my rehearsed reply came automatically, “Just joining in with the Snow Ridge High tradition.”
“Cap suits you,” he said.
“Oh.” My reaction was delayed as I reached up to touch the brim, not sure if he’d complimented me. Or perhaps it was totally the opposite and he preferred that it covered my hair and hid my face.
“Uh...” He faced me, our eyes locked and I thought he was going to scoff about wearing makeup to a farm job, but he reached over to my cap, “Uh, just your hair is...” I felt a light touch on my ponytail, “...caught up in the back here.”
“Oh,” I said, not moving as a flutter of warmth swept over my skin and his hand gently pulled at my hair. Surprisingly, I didn’t hate it. It was a nice feeling, a little bit ticklish, fingertips grazing the back of my neck. But within a moment, his touch was gone, my ponytail released. “Thanks,” I murmured, amazed I was capable of speech. The tingle radiating through me had me in a tangle, my brain all muddled and jumbled, not knowing what was going on.
“You’re welcome,” Miller said in a matter-of-fact way, like freeing ponytails was something he did regularly. While I was still quaking from the experience.
It was just as well we were thrown straight into work. There was no time to ponder why Miller had felt the urge to fix my hair. Given a pair of gloves, I was assigned to monitor the conveyer belts where potatoes were being transported from truck to cellar. With hundreds of potatoes rolling past me, I didn’t have amoment to look away, focused only on picking out rocks, dirt clods and oversized potatoes. Terrified I would miss something, I kept my eyes peeled like my life depended on it. I’d hate to let the team down.
Minutes, hours, days...who knew how long I’d been standing there? Time ceased to exist as I focused solely on those potatoes rolling in front of me.
Only when we stopped for lunch did I realize my shoulders were tense, my back was aching and my feet needed a break. It was a relief to sit down and though I was sure I’d not want to see another potato in my lifetime, I wasn’t about to turn down the hot French fries.
“You’re doing a great job,” Mrs. Burbank told everyone, but she came and sat next to me. “How are you doing, Quinn?”
“Good, I think,” I said. “I hope I haven’t missed too much.”
Mrs. Burbank smiled. “You’re doing fine. Are you having fun?”
“So far,” I said, “but ask me later and I might not think so.”
“If there’s too much dust, there are masks or goggles to wear,” she said.
“I’m okay,” I said. “But I noticed Clarissa has headphones. I might bring mine tomorrow.”
“Oh yes, I should have mentioned that for when boredom sets in.” Mrs. Burbank stood up, reaching for another French fry.
