I’d rather tag along with Wes and Tripp. They’re more fun anyway.
“Uh, not sure. He was by the picnic tables earlier, but I kinda ran off and hid when we knocked over the table of desserts playing tag.”
I frown. I was really looking forward to one of those chocolate chip cookies. Maybe I could eat one anyway. I’m sure it wouldn’t bethatdirty.
“Come on,” Tripp says with a sigh, taking my hand. “I’ll help look for him. Hopefully my mom and dad aren’t mad anymore.”
I cling to the hand he offers, even if it is a little sticky. I don’t mind. I enjoy walking with him. It feels less lonely having him by my side.
“So, why were ya cryin‘?” he asks, scuffing his boots along the dirt as he walks.
I shrug, dipping my head and rolling my lips together.
“C’mon. You can tell me.” He smiles at me, all crooked and missing teeth. “It can be our secret. I won’t tell if you don’t want me to.”
I drag in a snotty breath and shake my head.
Tripp chews on his lip for a few seconds like he’s thinking really hard. “You seemed sad.”
I nod, sniffling again.
“That's okay. Maybe Pops and Grams will let you ride Diamond when you get back home to make you feel better.”
My lips tug up reluctantly at the thought of getting to ride when we get back to the ranch.
“So, what happened?” he questions me again.
I bite my cheek, not wanting to admit that Tish had been mean. Nobody’s mean to Tripp. He’s always running around with Wes and the other boys in town. He has lots of friends.
“Sometimes I getsad,” he admits, eyes squinting down at me against the glare of the sun.
“You do?”
I couldn’t imagine Tripp ever getting sad. He was always smiling and laughing and telling jokes or being silly.
“Yeah, sure I do.”
“What makes you sad?” I ask, curious.
“I’ll only tell if you pinky swear to tell me why you’re sad too.” He holds up his pinky and wiggles it at me.
I only hesitate a second before I hook mine over his. “Promise.”
“Sometimes when I get in trouble, it makes me sad. ‘Specially when I didn’t do it, but Mom and Dad think I did. Sometimes it’s Allie, but they never believe me,” he mumbles.
I think about that for a second and decide that would make me sad too, especially if they didn’t believe me if I said it was Wes.
He nudges me gently. “Now, you tell me why you’re sad.”
My hand is getting sweaty from being wrapped in Tripp’s for so long, but I don’t want to let go. Talking to Tripp is helping me feel a little better, so I stand up straight and tell him what happened.
His mouth turns downward into a frown, and he huffs out an annoyed sound. I shrink a little, but then he throws an arm around my shoulder. “I bet Tish is just mad you beat her at the fair this year. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He’s about a head taller than me and two years older, and I’m sure it means he must be really smart—smarter than me even. So, I decide to believe him.
“I bet Allie and Sawyer would play with you. I think I saw them by the picnic tables,” he says and then pulls me to a halt. I glance at him and see he’s staring straight ahead. His mom's arms are crossed, and her faceis all smashed together. She still looks pretty mad. I guess time hadn’t helped like Tripp hoped it would.
“Tripp Eric Matthews,” she says. “You are in such deep, deep trouble. I don’t even know where to start.”
