Ames, Iowa, 1987
Kate walked down the road with Tom by her side. But he wasn't exactly by her side; he was a few paces ahead. And a few paces ahead of him walked Jennifer and Jessica. Their hair was long and permed, and they both wore stretch pants and long sweatshirts. Jennifer wore jelly shoes and Jessica wore high tops, and their wrists were covered in plastic bracelets. They talked to Tom, and Tom talked to Kate, but they didn't talk to Kate. Everyone carried a bookbag, and wind blew the tall grass on either side of the road.
"What's a stallion?" Tom asked.
"A young boy horse," said Kate. "He's an American Saddlebred. He costs a thousand dollars."
"What costs a thousand dollars?" Jessica asked, turning around.
"My horse," Kate said, and Jennifer turned around, too. "My dad's buying him for me."
"Are you serious?" asked Jessica. "I would kill to have my own horse!" They stood still, waiting for Kate to catch up.
"He's jet-black," Kate said. "I was thinking of naming him Onyx, or maybe Black Pearl. Because pearls can be black."
"You're seriously going to have your own horse?" Jessica asked.
"Yeah, seriously," said Tom.
"She's lying," Jennifer said, sneering in Kate's direction. "If I can't afford to have my own horse, there's no way she could."
"You can come see him!" Kate said. "I'll prove it! Come to Hutton Stables."
"If you could afford to have your own horse, you wouldn't live in that house."
They had come to the end of the field, and Kate's house was visible beyond the trees. Jennifer stood with her finger pointing towards it, and Kate saw that a garbage can had been knocked over and its contents had spilled on the ground.
"Just stop being such a moron and leave her alone," said Tom.
Kate heard a noise behind her. It was a rattling that grew to a roar. She didn't want to look back, but she turned her head. And she saw her stepfather's truck ambling up the road. Its fumes polluted the air. Wayne drove past them, into the gravel driveway.
"Is that your dad?" Jennifer sneered, and Jessica laughed with her as they ran up the road.
"Hey, I'll see you tomorrow," Tom said.
"Yeah," said Kate. "See ya."
She let her bookbag fall from her shoulder and carried it up the driveway. The door of Wayne's truck banged open, and he stumbled to the ground. He went in the back door and Kate climbed the steps to the front.
She went to her bedroom and put down her bookbag. Two framed pictures sat on her dresser. One was an official portrait of her dad in his uniform, and the other was the three of them together. If Jennifer and Jessica ever came to her room, they'd see that her father was the bravest soldier in the whole Army. And also that once, when she was too young to remember, her family had been happy.
She walked into the kitchen and found her mother sweeping the floor. Wayne sat at the table, with an open bottle.
"Well, how was school?" Diane asked.
"It sucked."
Wayne suddenly rose from his chair. "You watch that mouth!"
"You're not my dad!" she shouted back. "You can't tell me what to do!"
"Will you both stop!" yelled Diane.
Wayne looked at them with disgust and left the room. Diane watched him go, then continued sweeping.
"So much hair on the floor," she muttered. "I don't know if it's yours or his..."
Kate ran out the back door.
Behind the barn, she kneeled down into the sharp grass. She tried to think about her horse, and about seeing her dad that weekend, but Wayne wouldn't stay out of her head.
She hadn't noticed, but she'd been clawing at her hair, pulling strands of it out in her fingers. She walked across the grass, shoved the lid off the barbeque pit, and let it clatter to the ground. A box of matches sat on top of the grill. She flicked the hair off of her fingers, onto pieces of black charcoal. A few matches stuck out of the box, and she grabbed the box and pulled one out.
She ran the match across the side of the barbeque pit, but it didn't light. She tried again, pressing harder. A beautiful orange flame came to life, and she held the match as far away from her body as she could. Her fingers released it, and it fell on top of the loose hairs. They ignited, and she watched them burn.