Serenade

cicatrize: (v.) to find healing by the process of forming scars

The loud microphone of the announcer came crackling to life with a distinct buzz and then an echo.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I know we’ve kept yall waiting but wait no more! Cause this show is about to get started!”
Announcer Jimbo rang out. To be honest I don’t even know why we call him Jimbo, his real name is Carl. I think his wife might’ve come up with the nickname? Granny told me they’ve been calling him Jimbo for years. I guess he just kinda stuck with it.

The crowd roared to life, and even though I was still in the back I could hear every word they were chanting. That familiar flutter of both anticipation and anxiety rose again in my stomach. For a split second I thought my protein bar that I had scarfed down half an hour ago would come back up. But ultimately realized that my body would try to keep as much food as possible in, I haven’t ate since breakfast, and even then it was just a waffle.

Sometimes I was too nervous to eat.

Standing up from the rickety white plastic chair I was sitting in, I pulled up my chaps a little higher on my waist, making sure the backs of them were secure just right under the back pockets of my jeans.
One of my really good friends Rosalyn had actually personalized my chaps for me as a present.
She had embroidered the sweet apple acres emblem in the leather and embellished gold markings around the bottoms. It just goes to show how talented she is, and how insanely generous too. Even after I persisted on paying her for her beautiful work, she insisted that it was free of charge.
I think I saw a new light in Rosalyn that day, I really appreciated how kind and caring she was. I am so blessed to have friends that care about me like that.

I found myself smiling at the memory of it, it was nice to think about something other than impending doom.

“Now you guys just sit tight for a little and we’ll have our riders out here and ready to ride!!”
Announcer Jimbo belted out, my ears perking at his announcement. I could hear the familiar mix of music after. So normally I would have about 10-15 minutes before I go up.
Coming back to reality, I slipped my vest on that was embellished with countless different sponsors. My Kevlar vest was already on my chest, underneath my red button up.
My Pa’s old cowboy hat rested on my head, I repositioned it a little before it felt right. Right before the accident, he told me he wanted me to wear it if anything happened to him. Why did he have to say that? Only a few days later he and Ma got into that fatal car wreck. I couldn’t even look at the driver of the 18 wheeler the same ever again. And I knew him since I could walk.

I walked out to behind the bull chutes where, finding a spot along with some other riders. Right now I could see Henderson “Buckle” James, a guy I’ve rode with before, about to go up. The bullfighters helping him onto his bull. I could easily tell his bull was already fired up, bucking its head back.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, moving onto our next rider. Born and raised here in Camberville, you know him you love him, Buckle!”

And with that, the chute opened, launching him and the bull, bucking and a’thrashing about. The crowd cheering and whistling for him to hang on for as long as he could.
He held on for a lot more than last time, going 6 seconds longer. I think it’s cause the cute blonde judge kinda bruised his ego last time, saying his core was weak. It’s good Buckle can take criticism like that, you don’t really see that too often.

One of the other riders, a girl from Sunday school, came up to me. I know it sounds ugly but I can’t remember her name for the life of me. All I know is that it starts with a G. That’s all I’ve got to go off of.

“You nervous?”
She asked, crossing her arms over her chest, her chestnut hair blowing slightly in the wind. I think she was looking for someone to share something with, cause she was definitely nervous. I could see how quick her eyes were darting around and how her knee shook. Or that might’ve just been from the cold autumn night.

“I guess.”
I responded flatly. I wasn’t trying to be rude but I just didn’t feel like talking right now. I felt too trapped in my own head.

Sunday school girl, I’m just gonna call her that until I remember her name, smiled and returned to looking at the other riders. I think she got the hint that I didn’t feel like talking.

Good. I did feel bad, cause she’s actually really sweet. I’ll apologize later when I get the chance. It’ll probably be better if I knew her name though.

Mac’s POV

“Look, I see her!”
Annabelle pointed down by the bull chutes.
Me and Granny immediately perked up, following Annabelle’s finger. And sure enough, there she was, standing chewing her nail.

“She looks like a nervous wreck.”
I sighed out. I knew AJ was strong and capable of holding herself together, but I knew how she struggled, even if she never let anyone else see it.

“She’ll be fine” Granny responded, wrapping herself in her knit shawl after the cool breeze started.
“Once she gets on that bull she’ll forget all about it, you know she will.”

Didn’t really want to admit it, but Granny was right.
Once you see AJ on that bull, holding on for dear life as the beast bucked and swerved, she looked as happy as she could be. I guess the things that cause you happiness also cause you immense fear.

“I just hope she stays on long enough to qualify”
I stated, looking over at Granny.

Annabelle had gotten up to get something from the concessions stand, wish I told her to get me a pickle before she left. And it’ll be a while before she got back cause I know she’ll run into her little buddies somewhere. But she’ll get back before AJ rides, she never misses it.

“She will”
Granny responded, taking a sip of her sweet tea.
Granny was always confident in AJ’s ability in riding. Sometimes I think a little too confident. It can be overbearing.

Annabelle finally returned, holding white a card box with red stripes containing fresh nachos topped with jalapeños and a funnel cake, sitting down in between me and Granny once again.
“I’m back.”

“I wish you got me a pickle.”
I remarked, stealing a chunk from the funnel cake and eating it, it was freshly made so it was still warm and almost gooey, it practically melted in my mouth. You’ll never find a better funnel cake than from rodeos or fair grounds.

“You didn’t tell me that you wanted one.”
Annabelle responded, taking a nacho from the box and putting it in her mouth.

“You never said you were going to the concession stand!”

“You could’ve looked up and saw me going! But you were too busy making goo-goo eyes at the baker chick.”

I felt my face go bright red, redder than Granny’s shawl.

“I was not!”
I spat out at Annabelle. Hell it was true, I was looking at the ‘baker chick’ a couple of rows away. Thank goodness it was too loud for her to hear Annabelle say that.
She was new to town, I think I heard one of granny’s friends say she moved from a weird town.
She was pretty, really really pretty. She got a job at the Cake’s Bakery downtown. Somehow I don’t even know her name but I know all of that. I sound weird.

“Yes you were! I saw you!”
Annabelle pointed at me.

I was about to bite back until I felt Granny pull at my ear, she had Annabelle’s ear in her other hand.

“You two are arguing like 4 year olds! Both of y’all are too damn grown to acting like children.”
Granny scolded us, her sharp nails digging into our earlobes.
She finally let go, both me and Annabelle reclining back a bit, holding our red earlobes.

“Moving on to our next rider, the born rider herself, raised by the legend Bright himself, you know her you love her, Apple-Jack!”
Announcer Jimbo yelled out into his mic, all of our attention was now down at the arena as we watched the bull chute open.

As soon as the chute opened, AJ and the bull came flying out, and the crowd went nuts. The lady next to me jumped, sending popcorn kernels flying into my lap, but my full attention was on AJ down there.

“Cmon AJ!!!”
I yelled into the makeshift microphone of my two hands cupped together.

Ashleigh’s POV

The bullfighters helped me down onto the bull, one making sure the bull wouldn’t move too much as I lowered down, giving my two pats on the bulls side for luck. It was something I’ve always done, I think it’s because I watched Pa do it when he still rode.

After I got situated on the fired up bull, I immediately got hold of the straps, holding on tight, with my other hand taking the rope from the bullfighter.
This bull was ready to go, always bucking up, I clenched my legs around its muscular body, at least I knew he was gonna put up a fight with me.

“Moving on to our next rider, the born rider herself, raised by the legend Bright himself, you know her you love her, Apple-Jack!”

And with that, I was off.
The chute opening, sending me and the bull out into the arena.
The bull immediately bucking its powerful legs back, storing up the red dirt into the air as I held on for dear life, my other hand holding Pas hat on my head.

All other noise faded around me, it was just me and the bull. It was like nothing else existed on the planet, my full attention was on this bull and staying on for as long as I could.
Everything else seemed to go into slow motion, I wanted to look up at the big screen, but I didn’t, I keep looking down at the bull.

I felt the grip I had on the strap loosening, just one more thrash and I’d be off. That’s how I knew that enough time had passed, when I started to feel tired.
And then that trash came, and I went flying off.