Addison
THE MORNING OF Roundup arrived, and Dylan and I were ready. Well, we were as ready as we’d ever be. We’d been practicing for hours, and my shoulders were killing me from Dylan grabbing them to jump onto the back of the horse. I was pretty convinced some drunk asshat thought this game up after a night of tying one on. Seriously, it was so...so...redneck.
“You ready?” Dylan called throughthe door.
“Kind of,” I admitted, stepping into her room.
She grabbed a bottle of water and her vitamins, only half paying attention to me. “I really wish you’d wear jeans.”
“Joddies will be safer, considering they’re comfortable and, since they look ridiculous without my boots, the whole package is necessary.” I frowned. “Why? Do I look atrocious?”
“No. You look uppity.”
I squared my shoulders.“Well, Iamuppity.”
Dylan rolled her eyes. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“Suck it.”
She was still staring at her vitamins, and didn’t respond.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I was just thinking about something my grandma said.”
“You mean your crazy grandma?” I asked.
“Yeah. I took Asher to see her while you were gone, and she was...different. Nice. Still embarrassing, though. And she’s always been perfectlylucid, unlike the others. I still can’t believe my kindergarten teacher didn’t recognize me.”
“Dylan, you haven’t been back here in years.”
“Yeah, I know. Anyway, Grandma says it’s the pills they’re giving them. Claims that they’re messing with their memories as well as their bodies. Did I tell you Ms. Long died?”
“She did?”
“Yeah. Grandma’s been spitting out the pills and flushing them,and I know that makes her sound conspiracy-theory crazy, but I can’t shake the feeling she’s on to something.”
