Chapter 13
The Last Hayride
The sun was beginning its slow descent behind the hills, painting the sky in shades of gold and amber. The Harvest Festival had softened into its evening rhythm. The shrieks of children had mellowed into sleepy laughter, vendors were beginning to pack away their stalls, and the band had traded lively tunes for slower, gentler melodies that drifted across the clearing.
I leaned against the side of the stage, watching families wander toward the hay wagons lined up near the edge of town. Children with my faded art still on their cheeks.
“Last hayride of the evening!” Someone called. Children erupted into cheers.
Mai immediately grabbed Cobalt’s arm. “We have to go!” Cobalt laughed, placing a hand over Mai’s. I smiled as I watched them weave through the crowd toward the wagons.
“You coming?” Mai called over her shoulder.
“I think so!” Truthfully, I wasn’t sure. The festival had been wonderful, but it had also been a lot. My social battery was running low, though not nearly as low as I expected it to be after spending the entire day surrounded by other people. That realization alone made me smile.
Just as we were about to climb aboard, Lazuli glanced over the wagon, counting heads. Then his eyes swept across the festival grounds as though he were searching for someone.
“Where’s Urchin?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since this morning.”
Almost as if he’d been summoned by name, a familiar dark purple Shade emerged from between two vendor stalls. Urchin. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms dusted with sawdust and dirt from a day’s work. His hair was a little messier than usual, and there was a smudge of grime near his jaw. He looked tired.
But the second he spotted our little group, his face softened into an easy smile. He wandered over, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry I’m late. Job ran longer than I expected.”
Lazuli gestured toward the wagon. “Perfect timing.”
Urchin blinked. “For what?”
“The last hayride.”
“Oh.” He looked toward the wagon, where only two empty seats remained on the very last bench. It had filled up while we were looking around for Urchin.
Lazuli rested a hand on one of them… then stepped back. “Actually.” He nodded toward me. “You two take it.”
I stared at him. “Oh, no, that’s okay. You were here first—”
He waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve been on it every year.”
Before I could argue, Cypress caught on immediately. “Yeah.” She slipped her arm through Blaze’s. “You all take it. You’re still new to town.”
“We’re not going?”
Mai’s eyes lit up with sudden understanding. “Oh!” She grabbed Cobalt’s hand before he had any idea what was happening. “Yeah, you all have never been on it before!”
Cobalt frowned in confusion for exactly half a second. “I thought we were—” His gaze shifted from me… to Urchin… to the two empty seats. Understanding dawned. “Oh.” A grin spread across his face. “Right.” He squeezed Mai’s hand. “Yep. We’ll sit this one out.”
I looked around at all of them. Lazuli. Cypress. Blaze. Mai. Cobalt. Every single one of them had just given up their chance for the last hayride. For us. Heat rushed to my cheeks so fast I thought I might actually burst into flames. “You guys…”
Urchin scratched the back of his neck, glancing at me before looking back at everyone else. “I think we’ve been set up.”
I couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled out before I could stop it. “I think we have.”
Cypress wore the most innocent smile I’d ever seen. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said sarcastically. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Lazuli was already walking away, one hand raised in farewell. “Enjoy the ride.”
Coward.
Urchin chuckled under his breath. “Well…” He gestured toward the wagon. “Guess we’d better not waste two perfectly good seats.”
I smiled. “Guess not.”
Together, we climbed aboard. The driver clicked his tongue, and the pair of sturdy draft horses leaned into their harnesses. The wagon creaked forward. The festival slowly disappeared behind us. For a while, neither of us spoke. We just listened to the rolling of the wheels and the low murmuring of the other Berries on the wagon with us.
The countryside stretched out around us, glowing beneath the last light of day. Harvested fields rolled gently over the hills, dotted with round hay bales that cast long shadows across the grass. The breeze carried the scent of fallen leaves.
“I didn’t realize sunsets could be this orange,” I murmured.
Urchin looked toward the horizon. “They’re prettier in autumn.”
“I think everything’s prettier in autumn.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I thought you’d say that.”
“You did?”
“You paint autumn like it’s your favorite season.”
“It is.” I watched the sky shift from gold to peach. “It’s funny.”
“What is?”
“When I was little…” I hesitated. “I thought sunsets were just orange.”
“Now?”
“Now I don’t think there’s any such thing as just orange.” He waited. Listening. “There are so many colors.” I pointed toward the horizon. “Gold. A little pink. Peach. The lavender starting to creep in over there. The blue that’s getting darker by the minute.” I smiled to myself. “I think people forget to really look.”
He stayed quiet. So I kept talking. About colors. About how no two sunsets were ever the same. About how the trees near Moonwater Lake reflected entirely different shades than the ones closer to town. About how I’d probably spend weeks trying to mix those colors into paint.
Eventually I caught myself. Everyone had gone quiet. Listening. “Sorry.”
“What for?”
“I started rambling.”
He was silent for half a beat. “I like listening.”
The words were simple. Matter of fact. Yet somehow, they settled somewhere deep inside me. No one had ever said that before.
The wagon rolled over a rut in the road, lurching unexpectedly. I reached instinctively for the edge of the bench— and a warm hand gently steadied my forearm. I looked down. Urchin’s hand rested lightly against my arm. Just enough to keep me balanced. He realized it at the same moment I did.
“Oh.” He pulled his hand back. “Sorry.”
“No.” I smiled softly. “Thank you.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.
By the time we rolled back into Hearthglen, the stars had begun appearing overhead. The square was quieter now. Lanterns glowed warmly from the vendor stalls that were nearly packed away. Just a few stragglers remained around the clearing.
As we climbed down from the wagon, applause erupted. I froze. Mai was clapping enthusiastically. Cobalt was trying—and failing—not to laugh. Blaze wore a grin over the rim of her cider. Cypress didn’t even pretend to hide hers. Lazuli stood with his arms folded, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“You all planned this from the start,” I accused.
Mai gasped dramatically. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” I told her once again.
Cypress laughed. “It was actually his idea.”
She pointed directly at Lazuli. Every head turned. He blinked once. “I don’t recall.”
“You don’t recall?” Blaze repeated.
“Nope.”
“You literally said, ‘Those two need a push,’” Cypress reminded him.
“I might’ve.”
“Might’ve?”
Lazuli shrugged.
I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe all of you.”
“I can,” Urchin said beside me, clearly trying not to smile.
“Yeah.” I peeked through my fingers at the group. “Meddlers.”
Even Sage, who had been packing up her stall nearby, shuffled past us with a basket tucked under one arm. Without stopping, she muttered, “’Bout time.” Then she kept walking as though she hadn’t said anything at all. The entire group burst into laughter.
I groaned. “I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?”
Mai wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Absolutely not.”
Strangely, I didn’t mind. Not one bit.