The Bull, The Bet, And Barnaby

The bull's name was actually Dairy Queen, which was objectively hilarious, but that didn't stop her from weighing twelve hundred pounds and staring at me like I owed her money.

"You're actually doing this?" Marcus asked, leaning against the fence with that stupid grin that made my stomach do backflips. "You? March madness girl? The one who cried when her phone battery died at 6%?"

"Shut up, Marcus." I adjusted my helmet, trying to look like someone who definitely wasn't about to make the worst decision of her life. "I'm just saying. Anyone could stay on for three seconds. It's physics. It's balance. It's—"

"It's you're gonna die, Jen."

Okay, so maybe there was context. Context being: I'd said some things at lunch. Some things involving "bull riding can't be that hard" and "I could totally do that" and now somehow half the sophomore class was here, filming, because of course they were.

That's when I saw the cat. This ancient, graying tabby who'd been living behind the barn since approximately the Stone Age, watching Dairy Queen with what looked suspiciously like judgment. I'd named her Barnaby last summer when I'd found her sleeping in a bale of hay, and she'd been ignoring me with impressive dedication ever since.

"Hey," I whispered, crouching down. Barnaby deigned to bump her head against my hand, and somehow that small, dusty affection cleared the static in my brain. "You got this, Jen. People ride mechanical bulls at parties. This is basically the same thing, except with betrayal."

Marcus's expression shifted. "Wait, you're actually—"

"Just be ready to record my legendary victory or my embarrassing death. Either way, it's content."

I climbed onto that fence. I climbed into that ring. And for exactly 2.8 glorious seconds, I understood everything—balance, momentum, the electric rush of being completely, terrifyingly alive. I understood why people did things that made no sense. I understood the smile Marcus was trying to hide.

Then Dairy Queen did what any self-respecting bull would do, and I went flying into the dirt spectacularly enough that the video would definitely get at least three hundred views.

But as I lay there, wheezing, while everyone laughed and Marcus extended a hand to pull me up, Barnaby sauntered over and sat on my chest like she'd been planning it all along.

"Okay," I said, grinning up at the sky while Marcus's friends lost their minds. "That could've gone worse."

"You're insane," Marcus said, but he was still holding my hand. "Wanna get food? My treat. You earned it."

"Only if I can bring my emotional support cat."

And that's how I learned that sometimes the best stories start with doing something absolutely ridiculous, and that the right kind of friend will laugh with you, not at you. Also, Barnaby got extra treats. She definitely earned them.