Table of Contents

“I Hate It Here”

Angela-Marie Luna – Honorable Mention

The sun pierced through my Walmart button up that I had to pick from the Men’s Department, the only fittable choice. The heat crackled on my skin creating moisture in the most uncomfortable places. I hate it here. This particular place, the ranch. A cesspool of dust and heat that lingered for days. The dirt seemed to cover the double wide that was built atop a big pile of rocks and more dirt made to look like a hill. I bet when it was first placed there it looked nice. Now it was where all the horseflies lived. The cheap acres of land were consumed by rusty parts of cars and chucks of houses. It’s like they built a fort in the apocalypse with parts to spare. And now I had to spend the weekend here, living with the smell of horse shit and hay, manure and goat’s sweat swirling in the heat. What sixteen-year-old wants to be stuck in a hot dirt filled hell hole? I hated it, but I had no choice. When my foster parents felt like they needed a break, they would find someone else to look after you, like a pet while its owner was on vacation. In foster care we call this “respite” which by definition is “A short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.” I thought for sure when my mom voluntarily relinquished her parental rights in front of me when I was 14, I was free of that monster. I was going to be well taken care of, that’s what movies had taught me, someone would take me in and love me no matter what. But I don’t remember respite being a part of that script, or the part where I move every few months, one different prison cell after another. This ranch was my respite, no way out. I hate it here.

I was sixteen at the time, and now with the two longest years of my life being played out in foster care behind me, I knew my way around this hell hole. Newly fat, I hated myself. I was disgusting. I could see it, and they could see it too, everyone. Case workers and staff members in group homes looked at me with disgust from time to time, reminding me how far I was from being respected. No one was coming to save me, and I knew why. I wasn’t worth saving. If even my foster parents needed a weekend

away, why would I be worth saving? Still here I stand in this god damned heat, hoping the long slow day would carry on already. I just wanted to be inside. However, Rick had other plans for me. Rick was the owner of the ranch and taught kids how to ride horses. Rick was a short stocky man, late 30s early 40s with skin the color of newly stained wood. He wore Wrangler-type pants with modernized cowboy boots, a button up long sleeve shirt with the cuffs and sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He had two mossy green wrists to show how much copper meant to his health. A real modern cowboy. He was a stoic man whose walls of emotion were solidified by a history we were not allowed to know; a walking top secret classified file. It was obvious Rick had been a hard worker his whole life, so it was hard to impress the man. Now he has me working for him today, for free, I should be so lucky.

He was going to teach about 15 to 20 white bratty kids from loving families how to rope a semi-wild horse, whatever that meant. Rick jumped over a rusty white gate where the horse—young, strong with a thick dark chocolate coat—stood boldly across from Rick holding the lasso in his hand like he was in the Wild West. The kids and I stood around a beat up metal ring watching. I was bored because I had to give out ropes and keep kids in line, I hate it here. “Now,” Rick proclaimed, “if you gonna rope this horse you have to approach it with respect.” He started to tap the lasso on his hip in a rhythm like the beat to a battle march, his arms extending up and down like an oil rig. “We’re gonna tap our ropes on our legs like this, then we’ll move to the right.” As he started his steady stride around the ring, the horse immediately reacted and started trotting. “This horse will do whatever you do. You walk right, he trots right.” He stopped in his tracks, turned, and the horse mirrored him. “Here is what I want you to do, go around the ring left and then right. Then I want you to stop. Now here’s the important piece, you walk toward the horse and place the rope around his neck.” Rick walked toward the massive animal with no fear. “You need to respect the horse. It will act the way you act. This part can be difficult if you’re not ready.” He looked at me, then put a rope around the horse’s neck with his head slightly pressed by his face. “ The horse has to see you, or he’ll run or stomp you. Pet the horse as you put the rope around his head, to comfort

him. Show him respect. And then the horse will follow you. That is how we build trust. You guys ready?” Rick pulled away slowly then and tugged the rope and walked with horse in tow. Most of these kids were like ten years old and looked shocked with a few sociopaths excited to try and die by wild horse. I’m happy to watch those kids piss their pants. “Angela.” Rick handed me the rope. “You’re first.”

What the fuuuuuck do you mean I’m first?! I work here! I don’t do this cowboy shit! No, no, I can’t do this, why, when is this hell hole gonna stop getting deeper and deeper?

“Rick, I can’t do this,” I stuttered while my heartbeat broke the sound barrier. Fuck, I give up. Rick shrugged and replied, “I didn’t know that but I know you’re first, so go on.”

I entered the dirt coliseum like a wrestler entering a ring with my head down. I could feel that heat of the sun on my back, but I didn’t mind because that was the least of my worries. “Angela. Go ahead, start.” Rick commanded. Now time for the downfall, the disappointment that my life had become, made itself known here in the ring. The undeniable opponent that I’ve faced day after day from group home to foster family to respite, over and over again. I had to walk toward the beast now. I had no choice. I fucking hate it here. The first part was easy, I walked to the left and to the right tapping to the beat. But then the time came. I puffed out my chest trying to establish dominance. And just as my first step landed, the horse wailed and bucked up he was pissed, so I fell back. I knew it, I failed. Like always.

Rick called out loud real clear, “Try again.” I turned my head towards him. “Go on, try again.” I didn’t want to, what could I do just to get out of here. I had nowhere to run. I was too fat to run that far away from, everything. Ok...ok, I closed my eyes, I could not leave until I lassoed that horse. I opened my eyes, fuck it. One step, then two; closer and still the horse stayed steady, I kept my pace even, and I didn’t break eye contact. I kept waiting for the horse to call my bluff. But then I realized I wasn’t bluffing at all. Before I could exhale, I had my hands high in the direct sunlight burning the rope I clinched on to and lowered with calm, delicate precision. I was right next to the beautiful animal now and I smiled, his cheek warm against mine, and I eased the rope over him and gently tugged. Before I could blink, the horse and I were side by side

trotting around the ring. I couldn’t stop smiling. The white bratty kids cheered like I scored the winning touchdown in a football movie.

I jumped out of the ring to hand back Rick the rope, and I walked away grinning for the first time in a long time. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. Rick yelled for me, and I stopped and turned around, had I missed something? And right on time like a character in a movie, Rick announced, “That was the best I’ve ever seen. Seriously.”

I stood frozen for a moment. That was unbelievable. But I played off my astonishment and shrugged my shoulders. See, Rick doesn’t pay compliments, he pays truth. I couldn’t fool that horse or Rick, and now I couldn’t fool myself. As the sun set on the beautiful landscape, I stopped to take it all in, watching the bright blue sky turn a deep orange and red as the setting sun kissed my sunburn cheeks. The bratty kids laughed and dragged me toward the house to help. I looked back at the horizon one more time where hell looked like heaven. I walked up the dirt hill to the castle doublewide for supper with a smile on my face. I love to hate it here.