What are the rules?” Andrew asked.

“You’ve never bobbed for apples?” I asked. “Like ever?”

“You act like this is a normal, everyday activity.”

“It’s as American as baseball.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said. “I think you’re confusing bobbing for apples with apple pie. Is that being served somewhere?”

“Maybe it’s just a country thing,” I said.

Micah, who had wandered over to the barrels when she saw me and Andrew there, snorted. “It’s not.”

Micah gestured to someone over my shoulder, and I turned to see Lance heading toward us.

“What’s everyone doing?” he asked.

“We’re teaching Andrew how to bob for apples,” Micah said.

“This is a game where there are no winners,” Lance said.

Micah laughed. “That’s not true.”

“Either way you end up wet,” he said.

“Pay no attention to the distractions,” I said. “So the rules.” I pointed to Gunnar, who was on his knees assessing the barrel. “You can’t use your hands.”

“The only thing you can use is your teeth,” Micah amended.

“Right,” I said. “And you’ll be timed. They’ll add your name to that super-cool whiteboard there. And at the end of the night, the fastest person to retrieve an apple with their teeth will be crowned apple-bobbing champion.”

“Such an honor,” Lance said sarcastically.

“You’re just bitter because I always beat you,” Micah said.

“What?” Lance pretended to gasp. “I think your memory is off.”

Micah pushed his shoulder and chuckled.

Andrew raised his eyebrows at me but then nodded to the barrel. “Sounds easy enough.”

“It’s so not,” I said.

“Bobbers ready,” Mr. Pitman called out.

“You going to do it?” I asked Andrew, who was rolling up his sleeves in preparation.

“Next round. I’m going to watch technique first.”

“Good call,” I said.

“Go!” Mr. Pitman said as he pushed a button on his stopwatch.

Gunnar put his whole head in the barrel, water splashing everywhere.

I took a step back.

“See what I mean?” Lance said.

“It’s a perfectly good method,” Micah said.

We all watched Gunnar’s head circle the barrel. Andrew laughed. Finally, Gunnar came up with an apple clutched in his teeth, flinging his head back and spraying water over the watching crowd.

Gunnar took a big bite of his apple and smiled. “That’s how you do it!” he proclaimed.

“Got it,” Andrew said, taking a small step forward.

“Just don’t think about all the slobber that’s in that barrel,” I said. “Nobody else around here seems to.”

“Is that why you don’t participate, Sophie?” Micah asked.

“No, I’m just vain and don’t want to mess up my makeup.”

Micah smiled then raised her hand. “I’ll challenge you, Andrew.”

He pointed at her. “You’re on.”

“Be careful, she cheats,” Lance said.

“I do not!”

Mr. Pitman called out the ready signal. Micah and Andrew knelt down and put their hands behind their backs.

“And go!” Mr. Pitman yelled.

Andrew was hilarious to watch. He had no idea what he was doing. The apples kept bobbing up and down because he didn’t realize he somehow had to find the resistance—the barrel’s side, the barrel’s bottom, something. So, of course, Micah came up first with an apple in her mouth. Then she reached over and dunked Andrew’s head under. He came up laughing, flinging water from his hair all over her.

“That was fun,” he said when they were done.

“That’s because we know how to have fun around here,” Micah replied, smiling. “That said, we need to get back to work.” She pushed my shoulder a little, which made me laugh, and left with Lance.

Andrew turned a full circle. “What’s next?”

“You expect me to entertain you all night?”

“This is your favorite event. So yes, I figured I’d stay by your side all night.”

I wasn’t sure why, but my stomach flipped with that statement. I tried to ignore it but then I didn’t know what to say. I fumbled with the handle on the barrel next to me, then noticed a roll of paper towels on the table. I handed the roll to Andrew. “For your dripping hair.”

He ripped off a strip and mopped his forehead.

Behind him, the lights strung around the food booths lit up. “You ready for a sampling of true Southern food?” I asked, my stomach growling. “I’m guessing you haven’t had any since you’ve been here. You’ve been filled full of eggs Benedict and broccoli salad and chocolate mousse.”

“I did have that barbecue in July. You can’t forget about that.”

“And neither can you, obviously. Because that’s what amazing food does. It changes you.”

He laughed. “Have you been watching old episodes of Cooking with Hart?”

“I have actually. I’ve been trying to uncover the secrets of getting on your father’s good side.”

“Let me know if you find any.”

I sighed. “If your seventeen years of in-depth study haven’t uncovered anything, I have no hope.”

“I wouldn’t say that I study my dad in depth.” He nodded his head to the side. “Which booth do we start at?”

“The okra, of course.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve had okra before and it’s not an experience I want to repeat.”

“It’s fried, Andrew, and covered in cheese. Believe me, you have not had it like this.” I took him by the hand and dragged him toward the food.

“If I have another bite of food, I will die,” Andrew groaned, pushing his plate with a half-eaten fried pickle on it to the middle of the table.

“Weak,” I said. “We haven’t even had any of the desserts.”

“Are those fried too?”

“Some of them.”

“How are you not full?” he asked.

“I only took a few bites of each item. You are obviously an amateur.”

“Of course you didn’t tell me that secret.”

“I did! I said, ‘Pace yourself, Andrew, we still have half the food booths left.’ ”

“Oh, right.” He laid his forehead on his arms on the table. “Just give me thirty minutes or so. I’ll get my second wind.”

Gunnar appeared at our table. “Are y’all ready to do the maze?” he asked impatiently. “Mom said we have to leave in one hour. That might not even be enough time to get through it. Is it enough time, Soph?”

“If we start now.” I stood up and Gunnar whirled around and took off in a dead sprint.

Andrew groaned again.

“You don’t have to come,” I told him.

“No, I’m coming. Very slowly, but I’m coming.”

“Micah!” I called out to where she was standing across the way, busing a table. When she looked, I pointed at the maze. “Maze time!”

She held up her finger.

Gunnar zoomed back over to me and took hold of my hand, giving it a tug. “I thought we were going.”

“Almost. We’re waiting for Micah.”

Andrew climbed to his feet only to lean a hand on the table. A big group of guys from school walked by. One of them threw a container full of fries at the trash nearby, but it missed and landed on the ground right next to me, spraying ketchup all over my jeans.

“Thanks, Brady,” I called out.

He waved. “No problem, darlin’.”

“Ugh,” I said as they kept walking. “Losers.” I grabbed some napkins and mopped up my jeans.

“Who are losers?” Micah asked, coming over. Her eyes locked on the group, obviously figuring out who I was referring to. She didn’t say anything.

I noticed my mom walking in the distance. With every step she took, she had to shake dirt off her heels.

“What was she thinking?” I asked.

“She wanted to look her best.” Micah always took my side when it came to my mom so this surprised me.

“She’s ridiculous,” I said. “She wore heels to a farm.”

“There’s not a set dress code for every event,” Micah persisted. “Even though I’m sure you’d like there to be.”

“I know,” I said. “But some things are common sense.”

“Kind of like leaving this town?” Micah asked, turning to face me. “Is that common sense? Should everyone want to do it?” Suddenly, she was speaking quickly, her words running together. “Should everyone here live every day of their lives as though they’re already gone? Some people can actually appreciate where they are at the moment, even if it’s a small town in the middle of nowhere. But maybe only the little people who belong here can do that. The losers.”

My mouth dropped open and I snapped it shut. Then I managed to speak again. “Wh-what?” I stuttered out. “Why would you say that? I thought we talked about this. I’ve been distracted with my portfolio and my future, but that doesn’t mean I think people who want to stay here are losers.”

“Then why don’t you give anyone around here a chance?” She shot a pointed look at Andrew, as if the only reason I was hanging out with him at all was because he wasn’t a local. “It’s like you think the fewer connections you have here, the easier it will be to leave it all behind.”

“What?” I didn’t know what else to say. I shook my head, searching for the right words. “I—of course I wouldn’t leave it behind. My mom and my brother are here. You’re here.”

“Your dad didn’t seem to have a problem leaving everything. He left without looking back.”

“My dad?”

“Yes, that man who never visits. Not once since he left.”

I felt shock bubbling up in me. “And you have an issue with this?” I demanded, staring Micah down. “You, with your perfect family life, are not allowed to have issues because of my dad. Those aren’t yours to claim.”

“Well, I’ve claimed them because I sense that you are exactly like him,” Micah said defiantly. And just like that, she turned on her heel and was gone.

I moved to follow her, hurt and anger competing to take hold of my emotions, when Andrew grabbed my arm.

“Just give it a minute,” he said. “That’s the kind of speech that needs a little thinking space.”

I yanked my arm out of his grip. “You know my best friend better than me now?”

“I meant space for you.”

Tears stung my eyes. I put my palm to my forehead. He was right. I didn’t want him to be but he was. I needed to think before I reacted. What had just happened?

“My dad can have dreams,” I said. “He shouldn’t have to give up everything.”

He didn’t say a word.

“And I don’t hate Rockside,” I went on. “I mean, there are things I hate about this place, but there are things everyone hates about the town they live in, right?”

“Yes,” he said.

“And I definitely don’t hate Micah. She’s everything.” I walked three steps one way and then back three steps. “Sure, sometimes I’m judgmental. And maybe occasionally I’ve been condescending and …” I gasped. “Oh no.” I looked at Andrew. “I’ve been you.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

He gave a half smile. “Yes, I do.”

“But what she said—”

A loud crashing sound to my left rang out, followed by Jett Hart yelling a string of curses. My head whipped over. The first thing I saw was the deep fryer on the ground, steam rising from the hot oil that was now all over the dirt. The second thing I saw was my brother, standing there with his head down and his hands to his chest. I turned and ran to him.