Big Girl Boots

Five

"Well, Leroy, I guess it's just you and me," I sighed, patting the sturdy buckskin on the shoulder. The rhinestones glued to the cuff of my red white and blue shirt glittered in the streams of light that came from the well-lit stadium. In the otherwise dark corner where we stood, the brim of my hat gave off a shadow that made it hard to see. 

It was Friday night, also referred to as Patriot Night at the Caldwell Night Rodeo. I was dressed to the nines in my American ensemble, and thanks to me, Coda was too. When first finding out that each night of this rodeo had a different theme, she'd panicked, but I was able to come to the rescue with a closet full of rodeo grade attire.

Now she was God knows where with Wyatt and looking absolutely gorgeous in a half red half white shirt that was accented by the blue chevron cowboy hat she wore constantly. I smirked a little, knowing how hard the boy had to try to keep his hands off of her. With a little help from my mom and I, she was damn near irresistible.

I glanced to my horse as he blew out a tired breath and then nosed his bag of hay a little harder.

Once we'd made our run, Kellan had gone off with his buddies. I was invited, too, but honestly I just didn't feel like it. Even though we slept in until eleven most days, I was still exhausted and basically ready to go home. Saturday's competition was the championship round and I was more than eager to get it over with.

I sighed at the thought of home.

Just a few months before, I would have given anything for the Caldwell Night Rodeo to last two, maybe even three weeks. Now, I just wanted to go back to Mark and Callie's and settle into what had become routine; messing around in school, coming home and practicing my roping or riding the horses that hadn't been worked with in a while, and then ending the night with homework after supper. It was strange to think about how quickly I'd come to refer to my aunt and uncle's place four hours away as home, even though I'd spent seventeen years here in Caldwell. Sometimes I felt a little guilty about choosing to stay with my cousin's parents instead of my own.

In all reality, my parents weren't bad people. My dad was great and he supported me in everything I did. My mom did, too, but in a different way. In the words of Mean Girls, my mom was a pusher; she always had been. Even though she continually pushed me to be the best at everything, she was there to help the second I needed it. The problem with my mom, though, was that she pushed me too much, in a direction that didn't work for me.

She'd wanted a daughter from the start; someone that she could dress up, parade around, and mold into the perfect little rodeo queen, just like she'd been. She would put me up on that pedestal and instead of leaving like some parents (Coda's, for example), she stayed to watch and critique my every move.

Admittedly, she was a good mom; even a great mom by some people's standards. As much as I pretended to dislike her, I really did adore my mother. What I didn't like was the amount of forcing she did. From the day I was born, she worked too hard to shape me into that perfect rodeo queen, never giving me a choice. Little did she know, I never wanted to be that girl, and wasn't ever meant to in the first place.

Sighing audibly, I leaned my head against the cold gray metal of Uncle Mark's four horse trailer. I was sitting in the wheel well in the most unladylike way possible, hands resting on my thighs. The night was cooling off, but in my long sleeved pearl snap, I was still warm from my barrel run.

Overall, all of my runs this week had gone well. Kellan and I were in good standings with the roping world and I was sitting in second for barrels. Coda had done alright, too. She was placed sixth, which was pretty awesome for a new competitor. I'd been around this rodeo my entire life, so my placings were to be expected.