“Can you pass me that hammer?” I’m holding out my left hand, waiting for Emery to pass me the hammer so I can put together the new feed bin. It’s been a month since the club incident, and I’m still doing manual labour, just like Emery.

He pretends he doesn’t hear me, as he uses a screw driver to put together one of the new stall doors. Normally, I would get it myself, but I’m holding together the whole structure of the feed bin with my right hand, and letting it go would mean it would all collapse, therefore forcing me to start over again. I’m on my hands and knees in front of the barn, sweating under the hot sun. If he could just pass me the stupid hammer I could be finished sooner.

“Emery,” I snap, annoyed. He hasn’t talked to me since the night in my bedroom, and at first, I was extremely hurt. Now, I’m agitated.

Emery doesn’t look up at me as he picks up the hammer. I hold out my left hand as far as I can, ready to receive it, but I don’t. Instead, Emery moves his hand back, ready to throw it at me. On instinct, I let go of the feed bin and protect my face, as it all crumbles into a pile of wood on the ground.

But I don’t feel any contact, so I slowly put down my hands to see what’s going on. Emery’s watching me, waiting to see when I’ll look. In his right hand, he holds the hammer, about to throw it, but not at me.

“Emery, please,” I beg, frustrated. “Just give me the hammer.”

He doesn’t grin like he normally would. Instead, he looks as angry as I am. It only takes a second for the hammer to fly through the air, and then it’s gone. It lands somewhere in the corn field that’s starting to grow. That means I would have to go and spend my afternoon looking for it, so it doesn’t get caught in any farm equipment.

I rise to my feet, and brush the dirt off my bare knees. As I walk by Emery, I ignore the urge to kick the screwdriver out of his hand. This was basically how every single day went with him, for reasons I don’t understand. I haven’t seen Mary once, but she’s still on lockdown. Luckily, her phone privileges returned last week, so at least I can talk to her.

Carefully avoiding the crops, I walk through the field, looking for where I think I saw the hammer land. Like always, I can’t stop thinking about the night with Emery, and the kiss. As much as I knew liking him would hurt me, I can’t help it, even though I’m already hurt.

The morning after, when I woke up, Emery wasn’t beside me where he fell asleep. No, he was on his mattress. When my dad called us for our lecture and farm work, he refused to even look at me. Now, after a month, he won’t look at me, talk to me, or even acknowledge my presence unless it’s to make my life a living hell.

Luckily, the loft is fixed, so he has been sleeping there for the past few weeks. Sometimes I lie awake at night, missing the calming sound of his breathing, or worrying about his nightmares, but I’ve learned to push it aside. Emery, the badass jerk was not something I needed to think about. It would only make things worse.

After about thirty minutes, I finally grasp the hammer and head back to where I was working. As I stride towards the front of the barn, I notice that I’m missing two significant things. The first one is Emery. The second one is all the wood that I needed to make the new feed bin.

“Emery!” I scream, looking around for the moron. “What the hell!”

I look inside of the barn, and when I don’t see any sign of the aggravating boy, I check the loft. He’s not there either. Just a bed with old quilts on it, his backpack, and a worn down dresser. Sighing, I head out of the barn and start to walk around, looking for any clues to where Emery or my stuff went.

I find all the pieces of wood in the cow pen. With the cows. It’s all covered in dirt, and half of the pieces are being stood on by cows. Dad was going to kill me, if I didn’t kill Emery first.

Storming towards the farmhouse, I throw open the front door with force. It bands against the side of the house, and immediately, Dad comes running.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, with concern written all over his face. I can’t contain my anger, or lower my voice while I yell.

“You’re stupid delinquent threw away the hammer!” I throw my arms out around me. “So when I came back from getting it, he’s gone, and all the wood for the feed bin is in the cow’s pen!”

Dad’s mouth drops as he slides on his shoes. “I have to see this for myself.” I follow him towards the cow pen, where Emery is sitting on the fence, looking smug. When Dad see’s all the wood, he looks like he doesn’t understand how this could have happened.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I scream at Emery, while my dad still stares at the ruined wood in disbelief. Like every single time I talk to him, he pretends not to hear me, or even care. I turn to my father. “Dad, I’m sick of this!” The words are true. I’m tired of dealing with Emery making everything hell for me, especially after he hurt me. Was kissing me once really bad enough to make him hate me?

“Me too,” Dad mutters, turning towards us. I’m glaring at Emery, who looks off into the distance as if he’s by himself. “Time for lunch.”

Without yelling, punishing, or even another word, my father heads into the house. I stomp after him, and don’t check back to see if Emery’s watching.

“How can you just blow everything off?” I call to him as I walk into the farmhouse. In a second, my dad whips around, and the look on his face is not one I’ve seen before.

“Because believe it or not, River. I was like him.” He doesn’t wait for the response I won’t give, and heads into the dining room.

“Can you please pass me the apple juice, Emery?” I ask through clenched teeth. We each have a side of the table. My mother sits across from me, my dad to the right, and Emery to the left. My parents are talking about something I’m not listening to, as I wait for Emery to acknowledge me. Instead, he stabs his fork into a piece of ham, and puts it in his mouth. He chews thoughtfully, as if it’s the most important thing to him right now. “Uh, hello?”

I give a look to my mother, who clears her throat. “Emery, dear, could you please pass River the apple juice?”

Emery shrugs and picks up the container of juice. I reach out to grab it, like the hammer only an hour earlier, but again, I do not receive.

In a matter of seconds, the whole front of my shirt is drenched in the liquid that’s meant for drinking. I stand up, and watch it drip onto the floor in disbelief.

“Emery!” My mother gasps, looking me up and down. I grind my teeth together, trying not to snap. I smile down at Emery, who’s actually looking at me for once. I hold his eye contact as my hands grasp the bowl of mashed potatoes, and plop it right on his head of black hair. “River!”

If it was possible for hell to break lose at the Snow dinner table, it had to be happening right now, or at least close to it. Emery and I are throwing food at each other, that’s covering the walls and floor around us. My mother is screaming for us to stop, and my father is also yelling orders.

“ENOUGH!” Emery and I both stop in our tracks to look at my father. Not once, in my entire life, had I heard him yell like he just had. Emery’s arms are raised, ready to drop a bowl of vegetables on my head. My own hands are grasping my plate full of half eaten food, ready to throw it in his face. “Both of you need to stop fighting with each other,” my father says sternly. “And I mean right this second.”

I set down my plate, and Emery follows in suit. “It’s kind of hard when Emery refuses to talk to me, and we’re around each other constantly,” I mutter, making a valid point. The more I’m around Emery, the more he gets on my nerves.

“It’s been over a month. It’s time that you get used to seeing each other every day.” I had a feeling that this was one of those times my dad would come up with a not-so-brilliant idea. “Tomorrow both of you are going into Redwood.” It feels like my heart stops. The trip to Redwood hadn’t been so great last time, yet he’s sending us there, alone, again? “You’re picking up more wood and groceries. Your mother will make you a list.” I roll my eyes. Great. Emery and I have to sit in the truck for an hour, alone, and actually cooperate while shopping.

“What if I get ditched again?” I ask, worrying because unlike Mary, I didn’t have a cellphone to get me a ride home.

Dad smirks at Emery. “If you do, I’ll make sure to call the cops to round both of you up.” I sigh. So now was the time when my dad learned to put his foot down? Where was he a month ago?

“What if I come back and she doesn’t?” Emery nods towards me, and his face looks completely serious.

“What do you mean if she doesn’t come back?” Questions Dad. “She is coming back with you.”

“Okay,” shrugs Emery, heading towards the stairs. He turns his head, and calls to us over his shoulder. “Just don’t blame me when she comes back decapitated.”