Unbelievable (Book Four)

Six: Emily's Just A Sweet, Innocent Midwestern Gal.

"Come on!" Abby urged, pulling Emily across the farmyard. The sun was sinking over the flat Iowa horizon, and all sorts of long-legged Midwestern bugs were coming out to play. Apparently, Emily, Abby, and Emily's two eldest boy cousins, Matt and John, were also going out to play.

The four of them stopped at the edge of the road. John and Matt had both changed out of their plain white T-shirts and work pants into baggy jeans and T-shirts with beer slogans. Abby pulled at the bodice of her tube top and checked her lipstick in her little compact mirror. Emily, in the same jeans and swimming T-shirt she'd worn when she arrived, felt plain and underdressed—which was pretty much how she always felt back in Rosewood.

Emily gazed over her shoulder at the farmhouse. All of its lights were off, but the dogs were still running crazily around the property, and the bad goat was still chained to the cattle guard, the bell around her neck clanging back and forth. It was a wonder Helene and Allen didn't put bells on their children. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she wondered aloud.

"It's fine," Abby answered, her hoop earrings swinging. "Mom and Dad go to bed at eight P.M. like clockwork. That's what happens when you wake up at four."

"We've been doing this for months and haven't gotten caught once," Matt assured her.

Suddenly, a silver pickup truck appeared on the horizon, dust kicking up in its wake. The truck rolled slowly up to the four of them and stopped. A hip-hop song Emily couldn't place wafted out, along with the strong smell of menthol cigarettes. A dark-haired, Noel Kahn look-alike waved to the cousins, then smiled at Emily. "Soooo...this is your cousin, huh?"

"That's right," Abby said. "She's from Pennsylvania. Emily, this is Dyson."

"Get in." Dyson patted the seat. Abby and Emily climbed in the front, and John and Matt climbed into the pickup bed. As they rolled off, Emily glanced once more at the farmhouse receding in the distance, an uneasy feeling gnawing at her.

"So, what brings you to glamorous Addams?" Dyson clunkily shifted gears.

Emily glanced at Abby. "My parents sent me."

"They sent you away?"

"Totally," Abby interrupted. "I heard you're a real badass, Emily." She looked at Dyson. "Emily lives on the edge."

Emily stifled a laugh. The only rebellious thing she'd ever done in front of Abby was sneak an extra Oreo for dessert. She wondered if her cousins knew the truth of why her parents had banished her here. Probably not—lesbian was most likely a swear-jar word.

Within minutes, they drove up an uneven path to a large, burnt-orange silo, and parked on the grass next to a car with a bumper sticker that read, I Brake For Hooters. Two pale boys rolled out of a red pickup and bumped fists with a couple beefy, towheaded boys climbing out of a black Dodge Ram. Emily smirked. She'd always thought using the word corn-fed to describe someone from Iowa was a cliche, but right now, it was the only description that came to mind.

Abby squeezed Emily's arm. "The ratio of guys to girls here if four to one," she whispered. "So you'll totally hook up tonight. I always do."

So Abby didn't know about Emily. "Oh. Great." Emily tried to smile. Abby winked and jumped out of the truck. Emily followed the others toward the silo. The air smelled like Clinique Happy perfume; hoppy, soapy bear; and dried grass. When she walked inside, she expected to see bales of hay, a farm animal or two, and perhaps a bare, unstable ladder that led to a freaky girl's bedroom, just like in The Ring. Instead, the silo had been cleared out and Christmas lights hung from the ceiling. Plush, plum-colored lined the walls, and Emily saw a turntable in the corner and a bunch of enormous kegs near the back.