Matilda stood in front of the barn, her arms crossed so tight her fingers hurt a little. It was morning, and the air felt cool on her skin, but inside she was all hot and bothered.
She didn't sleep much last night. Her eyes were heavy, and her head felt fuzzy. All night long, she kept seeing Lily hugging Jack.
She heard Lily's voice in her head, calling him Jackie, acting like he was hers or something. It made Matilda so mad—way madder than it should've.
She didn't even like Jack that much. Well, not really. So why was it bugging her this bad? She didn't get it.
Jack was already at the barn when she got there. He was painting the wombat frame they'd been working on.
The red paint smelled strong in the air. He looked up at her as she walked over, his brush still in his hand.
"Hey," he said, his voice normal like nothing was wrong. "You okay?"
"Fine," she said, quick and sharp. She didn't want to talk to him.
Not now. She dropped her backpack on the ground with a thud and grabbed a paintbrush from the pile.
She wasn't in the mood for chatting. She just wanted to paint and not think. She stuck the brush into the red paint can and slapped it onto the wood. It dripped a little down the side. She didn't care. It could drip all it wanted.
Jack kept looking at her. She could feel his eyes. "You sure?" he asked again, tilting his head a bit. "You seem off or something."
"I said I'm fine," she snapped, her voice loud in the quiet barn. She didn't mean to sound so mean, but it came out that way.
She started painting harder, moving her arm fast. Little drops of paint splashed onto her shoes. They were her old sneakers, already dirty, so it didn't matter much.
Jack just shrugged and went back to painting his side of the frame. They didn't talk for a while. It was quiet except for the sound of their brushes scraping on the wood.
But Matilda's head wasn't quiet at all. It was loud inside, full of Lily's stupid laugh and Jack's dumb smile from yesterday.
They painted for about an hour. Her arm started to hurt from moving the brush so much, but she didn't stop.
Then Jack put his brush down and sat on the old tire they used as a seat. He pulled a water bottle out of his bag and took the cap off.
"Want some?" he asked, holding it out to her. His voice was soft, like he was trying to be nice.
"No," she said, short and flat. She kept painting even though her arm was screaming at her to rest.
She didn't want his water. She didn't want anything from him right now. She felt mad, and taking his water would feel weird.
"Okay," he said, real slow. He took a sip and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What's your problem today?"
"Nothing," she said, staring at the wood. "Just paint."
"You're acting weird," he said, his voice a little louder now. "Did I do something wrong?"
Matilda stopped painting. Her hand froze, and the brush dripped red onto the dirt. She turned to look at him, her heart beating fast.
"Why don't you ask Lily?" she said, her words sharp like a knife.
Jack blinked at her. "Lily? What's she got to do with this?"
"You tell me," Matilda said, her voice getting tight. "She was all over you yesterday. Jackie."
She tried to copy Lily's voice, making it high and fake like she remembered. It sounded dumb when she did it, but she didn't care.
Jack laughed, just a little. "You are jealous," he said, grinning like it was funny.
"I'm not!" she yelled. Her face felt hot, like it was turning red. "I just don't like her. She's annoying."
"She's just Lily," Jack said, shrugging again. "We're not together or anything. She's like that with everybody."
"Didn't look like it," Matilda said. She could still see it—Lily hugging him, smiling big. "You hugged her. You smiled at her. You're gonna hang out with her."
"I didn't say that," Jack said, shaking his head. "She asked me to. I said maybe."
"Same thing," Matilda said. She threw her brush down hard. It hit the dirt and splattered paint everywhere. "You're dumb."
Jack stood up from the tire. "What's your deal?" he asked, sounding annoyed now. "You've been mad all morning. It's not my fault Lily showed up."
"It's your fault you didn't tell her to go away," Matilda said. "You just let her hang all over you like some stupid little puppy."
"She's not a puppy," Jack said, his voice getting sharp too. "She's a person. I don't control what she does."
"You didn't even try," Matilda said. "You liked it. I could tell."
"I didn't!" Jack said, louder this time. "You're making this into a big thing, and it's not."
"It is to me!" Matilda shouted. She didn't mean to say that part out loud. It just popped out of her mouth. She stopped, her chest feeling all tight and weird. Jack stared at her, his eyes big.
"Why?" he asked, stepping closer. "Why do you even care?"
"I don't," she lied. She turned away fast and grabbed a plank of wood from the pile. "Forget it. Let's just work."
"No," Jack said. He moved closer again. "You're mad at me. Tell me why."
"Leave me alone," she said. She picked up a hammer and started hitting a nail into the wood. Her hands were shaky, and she missed the nail a bunch of times. It made her madder.
"You're not my boss," Jack said, his voice hard now. "If you've got a problem, just say it."
"I don't like you talking to her!" Matilda yelled, spinning around to face him. "She's fake and mean, and you're too stupid to see it!"
Jack's eyes got wide. "You don't get to tell me who I can talk to," he said. "You're not my girlfriend."
"I don't want to be!" she shouted back. "I just don't want you acting like an idiot!"
"I'm not!" he yelled. "You're the idiot, freaking out over nothing!"
"It's not nothing!" she said. "You're supposed to be here, working with me, not flirting with her!"
"I wasn't flirting!" Jack said. "You're crazy!"
"Then why'd you hug her?" Matilda asked, her voice loud and shaky. "Why'd you smile at her?"
"Because she's my friend!" Jack said. "I can't be rude to her!"
"You can," Matilda said. "You're rude to me all the time!"
"That's different!" he said. "You fight back!"
"So what?" she said. "I don't like her, and I don't like you with her!"
"Then deal with it!" Jack shouted. "I don't belong to you!"
"I don't want you to!" Matilda screamed. She threw the hammer down into the dirt. It bounced a little, and dust flew up. "I hate this place! I hate the wombat! I hate you!"
Jack stared at her, breathing fast and hard. "Fine," he said, his voice low now. "Hate me. I'm done." He grabbed his toolbox off the ground and started walking away.
Matilda watched him go, her heart thumping loud in her chest. She wanted to yell more, but her throat hurt too much.
She kicked the tire instead, hard. It didn't move at all. Her foot hurt now, throbbing like crazy.
She sat down in the dirt, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The barn was super quiet now.
Just the wind blowing through the trees made any sound. The wombat frame stood there, half-painted, all crooked and messy.
She felt so dumb. Why did she yell like that? Why did she care about Lily so much? Jack wasn't her friend.
He wasn't anything to her. But seeing him with Lily twisted her stomach up in knots, and she didn't know why it mattered.
She stayed sitting there, picking at the dirt with her fingers. The sun got higher in the sky, and it started burning the back of her neck.
She didn't move, though. She didn't want to go home yet. She didn't want to see Uncle Ben and hear his dumb laugh. She just sat there, thinking about the fight over and over.
Jack's face kept popping up in her head—mad, confused, then walking away. She'd pushed him off, and now she was all alone.
Hours went by. She didn't know how long exactly, but it felt like forever. Then Uncle Ben's truck rolled up, rumbling loud.
He got out and looked at her, his hat tilted on his head. "Where's Jack?" he asked, scratching his chin.
"Gone," she said, not looking up. She kept her eyes on the dirt.
"What happened?" he asked, stepping closer.
"We fought," she said. "He's a jerk."
Uncle Ben sighed, long and tired. "You're a handful, kid. Come on, let's go home."
Matilda stood up slow. Her legs felt stiff from sitting so long. She grabbed her backpack, and it dragged a little in the dirt.
She climbed into the truck, getting mud on the seat. Uncle Ben didn't say anything about it. He just got in and started driving.
The radio buzzed low with some old song. Matilda stared out the window, watching the trees and fields go by.
The fight kept playing in her head—her yelling, Jack yelling back, him leaving. She felt bad, but she was still mad too. Mad at him, mad at Lily, mad at herself for being so upset.
They got home, and Uncle Ben went inside the house. Matilda stayed in the truck for a minute, resting her head against the window.
It was cool on her forehead. "Grow up," Uncle Ben had said to her yesterday. Maybe he was right. She didn't feel grown up at all.
She felt small and lost, like a kid who didn't know what to do. She got out of the truck finally and walked to her room. She flopped onto the bed, her shoes still on.
The stars were out—she could see them through the window—but she didn't look at them. She didn't want to think about Jack or last night or anything at all.
She closed her eyes tight, hoping to sleep. But it didn't come. The fight just kept spinning in her head, loud and messy, over and over.