Nolan laughs and tugs his hat back on. “Thanks for letting me know about this, Stacey. Principal Adams would have blamed me if things got out of hand, and I really don’t need that to be my last impression of high school.”
I smirk. “The rest of it was bad enough, huh?”
He shrugs. “I had my books and well-respected parents. Most people focused on bullying Axl and Ledger, so I kind of owe it to them too. My high school experience could have been much worse.”
My lips pinch. I guess that’s true. Most of our class turned their sights on the same people our parents had, so Nolan—despite being a nervous wreck most of the time—didn’t get singled out as much. I’m glad I asked him to help me with this, that I could trust him to help navigate this undoing of the most idiotic prank I’ve ever heard.
“They stored it in this shed. We just need to get in and get it out.”
“Gotcha,” he responds, pulling out the keys Principal Adams entrusted to him. Gabby has the other pair, but I don’t know who she got them from. Some twat on staff, I bet.
When we get inside, there’s a stench. It stinks up the entire building, and I’m positive it’ll take months for it to air out. The closer we get, the more the putrid smell usurps my breathing. I choke on it, coughing when we finally get to the bucket and see the pile of brown mush inside.
Nolan’s nose scrunches. “Is that?—”
“Yeah, I think it is,” I say, defeated by the realization. “They told me they were going to dump pig’s blood.”
“LikeCarrie? No, this is way worse than that. Oh my god, the smell.” He gags again, his hand covering his mouth to keep the horrid scent from getting in.
We both stand there, gagging and contemplating our rescue mission. This bucket looks heavy, but we have to move it. I refuse to leave this room until we do, and from the smell, I don’t know if I can stand here much longer.
“Jeez, I wish I had brought gloves now,” I comment, letting another gag out at the thought of touching the bucket bare-handed.
“Here.” Nolan immediately takes his off and hands them to me. “I’ll just take ten showers when I get home.”
I look at them and then back at his face. He’s insistent, and I let a tiny smile loose at the gesture. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Let’s get this done so we can forget it ever happened.”
A small chuckle escapes me. “Good thinking.”
The gloves are slightly too big, but Nolan is a beta like myself, so it’s not unmanageable as I grip the side of the medium-sized bucket. He takes the other side and we lift,feeling the manure slosh inside. I stick my nose into my shoulder, trying to calm myself through the horrible sensations as we walk slowly to the shed door and then outside. We stop for a second so Nolan can lock the shed before continuing on, taking little steps so we don’t accidentally drip any unmentionables on ourselves or the ground.
“Where is it safe to dump something like this?” I wonder out loud.
“There are composts that farmers use,” Nolan answers, and I widen my eyes in surprise before I remember he is a walking encyclopedia. We finally get to the parking lot where our cars are parked and put the bucket down between our cars. “I know where we can find one, but it’s a little bit away. Are you okay with going with me?”
“I’m not going to leave you to clean house on your own, Nolan.”
Nolan nods, but his head tilts. “You’re… different than I expected, Stacey.”
I should be curious by that statement, but it’s by design. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re—” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “The image I had of you doesn’t compute with this. Helping out the town pariah without any kind of reward or praise. I’d go as far as to say that I thought you’d find this kind of prank funny.”
I blanch. Maybe I’ve beentoogood at pretending, because that’s awful. I wonder how many more people in town think I’m a heartless human being.
“Well, no. This isn’t funny at all. I didn’t even think it was funny when it was pig’s blood.” I bite my lip, wondering if I should say this next part. “But… don’t tell anyone this, okay? I need to… I don’t know, blend in, for a little bit longer.”
Nolan smiles gently. “You don’t want anyone to know the best of you, huh?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. There’s too much pressure. And my mom?—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he says sincerely. “I’m just glad I got to see this side of you. It shows there are other people here, whogrew uphere, that aren’t as horrible as our parents.”
We get the bucket settled in Nolan’s truck, which he said he borrowed from his shithead father. It’s secure, but he doesn’t mind the idea of a little bit spilling in the truck bed. “My father deserves it,” he says, before pulling out of the parking spot and setting forward onto the road.
As we move toward our destination, I watch the fields go by, the smell of grass and the night time chill falling over me. Snowdrops and gardenias mix to override the horrible smell in our noses, and it makes me feel hopeful. That even in the shittiest of situations—literally—there is always something there to make it better, someone who can help bear the brunt or lend a hand. This mission was successful, but for more than one reason. It’s bred optimism into me, and I wonder if it can help me gather the courage to take the leap of faith I need—once and for all.
