Worthy

Chapter One

Rise and shine?

I will rise. And I would have shined ... if I could.

No horse that can't be rode ... and no cowboy that can't be throwed, right?

Sorry. All knowledge and understanding of basic English grammar flew out of my head when it hit my marshmallow hard pillow last night at '12:30.

"Today's the day when you learn how to ride a horse!"  My younger brother, Thomas, was certainly sounding cheerful.

I glared at him through rock hard eye slits. "What do you mean, brother?" I spat. "I've been riding once a month since two years ago. And I had a pony when I was younger." He knew I can't tolerate people saying I'm not a real farm girl and I'm not that smart and all that, even though it's true.

"That thing you do when you sit on the horse, clench and shake your knees, pat him on the butt with a weak aim every 3 seconds and grip his mane? That's not riding."

"I'll teach you to eat your raw carrots and potatoes before you go about throwing your nose into my face!"

"Huh?" He looked slammed drunk.

I slammed a pillow in Tom's face in embarassment, realizing I was not making sense to him. I was, though ... to me.

"What would you have done today, anyway, if it wasn't for unlucky me? I  am your handsome Hollywood dream to be!" He sang, and took the pillow out of my hands, throwing it to the muddy floor.

My eyes widened. "Wow, my colt. You aren't usually THIS silly."

"My colt" was my favourite swearing phrase. And sometimes I called Tom "colty" because he was the naughtiest wild horse we had on the farm. We have 5 horses, to be exact. 2 of them, I've never even ridden, to be honest.

The large and wild black mare, Sugarlump, I've only twice or thrice led back to her feeding camp. She wasn't the type to buck or bolt, but for some reason, she reared really high whenever a stranger got on her back.

Only my younger brother rode her, anyway. As fate would have it, she particularly distrusted me for no reason. She hardly even wanted to take a lump of sugar I offered her.

Then there was the seemingly always whistling-with-happiness white stallion who kicked anyone who approached him from behind and nobody except Tom and two of our farm workers dared to ride more than a dozen or so times a year.

I didn't often ride because I was afraid Tom was going to be around and shout at me because I was either struggling to get the horse to walk faster or trot or bouncing around when he was.

"Why don't you just ride with a freaking saddle or grip the reins tighter?" He always wanted to know.

I tried. It seldom worked over a distance of more than a few feet or 100 yards.

Sometimes Tom said I wasn't the type of girl for life. "If you're not a morning person, you're not a life person," were one of his 'profound' insights which he shared with me whenever he sat me at the breakfast table, in the fields, or down town.

My problem was way more complex than that. It wasn't because I didn't want to wake up. It was because I didn't know what to do when I woke up. I knew almost everything I needed to know to obtain my GED diploma.

Nobody needed help cleaning the house, cooking, baking layer cakes or washing laundry around here. We had a cook and a washerwoman anyways, and mom didn't mind washing the dishes by hand when the dishwasher broke.

I didn't feel like walking or running around the entire farm either. I couldn't manage more than a kilometre or so of jogging anyway. It seemed useless. Everything seemed pointless. Even listening to Ariana Grande's One Last Time or watching videos of Taylor Swift falling down the stairs felt meaningless. And worst of all, all these things didn't always bother me. Well, not that much, I suppose.

Food cheered me up. Weetabix and coffee. But after that? After that I made my bed and fed  the horses and maybe took them to their feeding camp and maybe did an hour of Algebra and Geometry and studied a few grammar rules and read a chapter of history twice, taking a little notes.

What was the point of education? What was the point of reading the Bible if it gave you no hope? And I read Psalm 23 and Psalm 37 over and over again. And the  fear would return, overcome me and eat me alive.

I knew I was just pathetic. I had a boyfriend. He was my second, actually. I've once been on a blind date. Years ago. I played board games and swam in  candlelight in our heated pool with my brother or my boyfriend. Sometimes. I only saw Geoff about once a week. He emailed and videocalled me every day, though.
But other than that? What exactly did I have to brag about?

I really, really wanted to be enough. To someone. Or Someone. I did not really know.

But I wasn't. And would I ever be?