Page 58 of Valley Girls
“Lower, Hico,” Rilla yelled.
In the twilight, she dropped. Hanging her head in shame.
Nineteen
Rilla burst into Ranger Stafford’s house twenty-five minutes late, still bleeding from a hundred scrapes, and breathing hard. “Sorry I’m late.” She gasped.
They were waiting on the couch. Ranger Stafford in his nice jeans and polo shirt. Mrs. Stafford, with her arms and legs crossed, side-eyeing her husband.
“Thea’ll be right there if she needs her,” he said.
“I promise. I’m responsible. I just got stuck on a climb ...” She trailed off, realizing dropping a rope was not going to help reassure them she was responsible. “Long story.” She leaned on the counter and gulped back her breath. “Where are the twins?”
“They’re asleep. And hopefully, they’ll stay that way.” Mrs. Stafford unfolded her legs and stood. “Okay. I guess ...” She looked over Rilla and frowned a little. “Thea’s off tonight?”
Rilla didn’t know.
“Yes,” Ranger Stafford said. “Rilla will call right away if she needs anything.”
Mrs. Stafford nodded. “Okay. We’ll be back in a few hours. We were going to run to town, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea with this weather coming.”
Ranger Stafford grabbed his ball cap. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Mrs. Stafford sighed through her nose.
“We’ll just head over to the Lodge for a drink tonight. Shouldn’t be long.”
“All right. Have fun!” Rilla held the door. “We’ll be great.” The wind gusted as Rilla shut the door, and she nearly lost her grip before getting it closed.
The sudden silence seemed deafening. She turned and looked around the house—it was exactly like Thea’s, and also totally different. The same layout, carpet, and furniture. But interspersed with baby toys, half-folded laundry, and family photos. All that waited for her in this house with silent sleeping twins was the brutal, fresh memory of her shame.
Groaning, Rilla sank into the couch and covered her face with her arm. What had she done? She’d ruined everything. Walker probably knew by now, and he’d never want to talk to her again. How was she supposed to show her face in the Valley after tonight?
Her phone was in her pocket and she shifted, digging it out to text Thea she’d made it to the Staffords’. Trying to avoid replaying the whole evening over in her head, she flipped to Instagram and found herself scrolling through her feed.
It was a mistake. Salt in an open wound.
Prom.
She’d forgotten all about dropping the rope as she stared at photo after photo of her former friends—the only people she’d ever known, her whole life—spinning in tulle and sparkles, laughing and dancing together. She was supposed to be there. They were supposed to miss her. No one missed her.
Rilla laid her head on the arm of the couch and pulled her knees to her chest. She was cold and everything hurt and mostly it hurt in places she knew couldn’t be cleaned and bandaged. She missed home. She missed being Rilla Skidmore, requisite bad girl. She even missed the stupid jokes about hermoves, the kind of thing that came with your mom being an ex-stripper. At least in West Virginia she knew her place and everyone expected her to be a fuck-up. Unlike now, where she kept trying not to mess things up but did anyway. She dropped the rope, which was bad enough, but thenin front of everyone.She was lucky someone had been there, like Caroline, who could climb up to get her. Otherwise, she’d have been stranded.
The wind howled at the roof and her tears overflowed. She pulled up her calls and dialed her mom, putting her phone to her ear.
The phone rang. Clicked.
“Hey Rilla,” her mom said.
“Hi.”
“What’s going on?” her mom asked. “How is California?”
“Sunny.” Rilla stared at the ceiling. “I want to come home.”
“Is Thea giving you a hard time?”
“No. She’s fine. I miss everyone.” If she came back she couldn’t help but feel like she could force them all to love her—even knowing that’s not how it worked. “Everyone makes fun of West Virginia. I’m tired. I just want to come home and have everything be normal again.”
