Page 3 of You Fall First

On the drive back from downtown, I rehearse tonight’s dinnertime conversation in my head. My stomach is already churning, not just because I might disappoint my parents, but also because I’m officially starting my period.

Woot.

When I arrive home and trudge into the house, there are four things I learn:

My parents have their own Saturday morning routine while I’m at hot yoga. Apparently.

I should probably knock, even though I live here too.

If being a server at Mockingbird doesn’t work out, I’ll get a job inventing eye bleach.

I need to move out. Like, yesterday.

Two hours later, I’m at the Harvest Farms waiting for my sister, Kendal. The former high school valedictorian now has a four-year-old, a toddler, and a baby, so she’s perpetually exhausted. When she begged me—her unemployed sister—to meet her at the petting zoo for backup, I agreed. I also warned her that my future services were on borrowed time, thanks to my new job at Mockingbird.

For the record, I’m happy to help Kendal, and I love my niece and nephews. I just wish Floyd Winchell, the petting zoo attendant, wasn’t eyeing me like I’m a ham sandwich and he’s starving for lunch. When we were in high school, good old Floyd never paid me any attention. I was in every guy’s friend zone, then. Even Floyd’s.

And I’m the opposite of interested now.

“Jojo! Hey,” Kendal calls out, staggering across the straw-strewn dirt. Her black hair is in short braids, and she’s wearing denim overalls and sneakers. As she navigates rows of hay bales and colorful squash, Baby TJ is a possum on her hip. Wally drags behind, clutching her hand. Meanwhile, Rowan marches ahead of the pack like the champion eldest daughter.

Kendal 2.0.

A wave of cramps backstrokes across my middle, and I press a palm to my abdomen. At least my loose sundress doesn’t show the all-too-familiar bloat. Sadly, nothing can mask the pimple I’ve sprouted by one of my cheek butts courtesy of some award-winning period acne.

I stick a grin on my face and meet Kendal’s chaotic little herd. When I offer to take TJ off her, he starts yowling.

“It’s not you.” Kendal cringes as he buries his nose in her armpit. “He’s just at that stage where he’s obsessed with me.”

“Or maybe he just really likes your deodorant.”

I help Kendal sunscreen Wally and Rowan up, then we corral them over to the petting zoo. The farm pays Floyd to monitor the kids, and they flop down among a pack of pot-bellied piglets and long-eared rabbits. Once they’re situated, Kendal turns to me, blowing out a long breath like she just ran a marathon.

“So, how’s your day going?” she asks.

I flash back to the scene I came upon this morning, arriving home after yoga. The kitchen nook. My parents. I’ll never eat at that table again.

“Dude.” I flinch. “You don’t want to know.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Let’s just say as soon as I leave here, I’m heading directly to the library to research how to build a time machine so I can travel to the past and make entirely different life choices.”

“Solid plan. Exactly how far back are you going?”

“At this point, I’d settle for this morning.”

“Ah, okay.” She bobs her head. “So this isn’t about Landry’s text yesterday? About the new wedding rehearsal lineup.”

“Wait. Our sister’s getting married?” I deadpan. “I had no idea.”

This pulls a chuckle out of Kendal. She nudges my shoulder while keeping her eyes on the kids with the pigs in their laps. “You’ll meet your man when the time’s right.”

“So I can scare him off again? Been there, done that. All the way done.”

Kendal’s lower lip pops out. “Aw, Jojo.”

“Just Jo, please.” My little kid nickname makes me feel like I’m even farther behind my siblings in life. “Anyway, Landry can’t help the fact that I’m the only unmarried, dateless person in the bridal party. Scratch that. In the entire Michaels family.”