Seen Not Heard || BOOK 1

Rodeo Riders

Chapter Two ~ Idina

Two Years Ago

It was my first time at the Rodeo since I was seven years old. I was now thirteen and was going with my mom, her friend, and her friend's daughter. We were going to hang out and go on some rides before going to Taylor Swift's concert that night. My mom always loved roller coasters, but I wasn't a very big fan.

"Hey Mom, can I hang back and grab a hot dog?" I asked her as we waited in line for the newest ride.

"Whatever you want Sweetie," She says, handing me some money, "Promise me you'll only go to the food stand, then sit at a table and wait for us, okay?"

"Okay, Mom. I promise." I say. She smiles at me, then the line moves up and she, her friend, and her friend's daughter. I make my way to the food stand, then get a deliciously juicy hot dog. I go over to the white picnic tables, open my purse and pull out my favorite book The Perks of Being a Wallflower, my journal, and a pen. I put my purse to the side of my chair and I plunge into the book. I become enchanted, caught on every detail of the book, and begin chewing on my pen.

Suddenly, my purse chain is yanked from beside me. I look up to see a boy with blonde hair go by, pulling my purse along with him!

"Hey!" I shout. He and his friend turn to me. I use my pen to point to his right ankle, which he sees is entangled in my purse chain. He lifts his boot to untangle himself, then brings it back to me. I close my book and sit patiently awaiting my purse.

"Um, I think this is your little lady," He says with a smirk. I grab my purse and abruptly stand up.

"Who you calling little? At least, I'm not a tree. By the way, how's the weather up there, cowboy?" I ask pushing his hat over his face. His friend chuckles.

"A little attitude. I like it." The friend says. The cowboy pushes his hat up from his face, revealing his blue eyes.

"I'm Lucas, Lucas Friar. And this is Zay." The African-American friend nods his head at me.

"Well hello, Lucas, Lucas Friar. I'm Idina, Idina Jennings." I say sticking out my hand to him. He shakes it then passes me my book still on the table. I have my purse swung over my shoulder, and my hands wrapped around my journal for safe-keeping.

"Hm, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Never read it. Is it any good?"

"Oh, it's great! I like how they incorporated the idea of being a flower and weaved it throughout the story line. I really connect with it." I babble on. This may be the most I've talked to anyone in three years. Someone calls Lucas's name, and he turns to see a man dressed like him but much older, waiting for him. He turns back to me.

"That's my uncle. We're from Austin, but I'm competing in one of the rodeo competitions down here in Houston," he starts to hand me my book, but not before Zay pulls out a sticky note, which I have no clue why he has it. Lucas grabs the pen out of my hand and writes down his number. He sticks the note on the book then hands it to me. He gives me back the pen and finally hands me my book.

"Well see you around Idina," Lucas says. He's about to run off, but not before I grab his arm, and write my number and my name, Idina.

"Yeah, see you later, cowboy." I taunt. He just smiles and runs off with Zay. Hm, maybe I've finally made a friend. I sit back down, take a bite of my hot dog, and open to a crisp clean page of my book.

The Cowboy

Friendship is a funny thing. I mean how can we ever truly know what it is if we've never had it. Today, I think I made a friend. Lucas, Lucas Friar, the cowboy. Subtly cocky, yet very kind; I can tell he's a sweetheart, he's sensible yet adorable. Cute for a cowboy. I hope he achieves whatever he came to Houston to do. I wish him luck. I wonder if he wins or not; or if winning is even the real purpose he's here. He seems like he's looking for some sort of closure. I am unsure of what for at this time. So good luck cowboy. I hope you ride into the sunset. Hey, at least, one of us should have a happy ending, right?

I hear my mother call my name, and see it's time to go to the concert. I close my book and walk towards her and the concert doors. Once to her, I realize my page has slipped from my notebook. The one, and only time, a page has ever fallen out. I turn around to retrieve it, but it is too late. It has already floated away somewhere. Now my words, are someone else's lost treasure.