Courting Cate by Leslie Gould

Billy demanded.
    I shrugged and smiled.
    They turned upstream, yelling their sister’s name, their bare feet splashing through the water. She’d only have a few more minutes of peace unless she found a really good place to hide.
    My resolve stronger than ever, I headed to the house, batting at the cattails along the path as I walked. A few minutes later I found Dat sitting at the table, staring at Mamm’s rocking chair.
    I decided to be up front with him and told him directly I wouldn’t be going to the singing.
    “What do you mean?” Dat flinched as if I’d insulted him. “It’s one thing not to go to the volleyball game, but you are not too old for singings.”
    “I went to four years of those, Dat.” Seth was the only boy who ever gave me a ride home in his buggy, and once I understood why, I vowed to never go to another singing in my life.
    “What about Betsy?”
    I shrugged. “She’s still napping.”
    “Doesn’t she want to go?”
    “I’m sure she does.” I hoped after another week of this, at the very most, Dat would realize what a horrible decision he’d made and change his mind.
    “Cate,” he said. “How can you?”
    “How can you ? You’re the one who came up with this crazy plan.”
    He met my gaze but didn’t respond. After a long minute, he took a drink of his coffee, and I went upstairs to wake Betsy to help with the choring.
    As I entered, Betsy stirred.
    “What time is it?” she asked.
    “Five.”
    She sat up. “Let’s get going.”
    “I’m serious about not going.”
    She plopped back down on her pillow. “Then I’m not helping with the choring.”
    “Fine.”
    “Or cooking supper.”
    I didn’t answer. We usually had leftovers on Sunday evenings.
    “And not just tonight. All week, if you don’t go to the singing.”
    I sat down on my bed, not sure which I detested more—cooking or singings. I could sit in the back and sneak out before it was over. I could stay away from the Youngie. It wouldn’t hurt to go, for Betsy’s sake. I wouldn’t even have to wait until it was over to leave. Levi would drive Betsy home.
    “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
    She flew across the room and knocked me flat on my bed.
    “Get off me,” I groaned.
    “Denki, denki, denki,” she squealed.
    “Please don’t,” I answered.
    “Let’s hurry with the chores!”
    Dat must have known something was up by the thundering of Betsy’s feet on the stairs. By the time I reached the kitchen, they were standing side by side, beaming at me.
    I shook my head. “Don’t get any ideas.”
    “But doesn’t it feel good to put your sister first?” Dat asked.
    I shrugged. I’d been putting Betsy first my entire life.
    By the time I turned Thunder off the highway and into the Bergs’ driveway I felt sick to my stomach. I’d read one time that women don’t remember the pain of childbirth until they start labor the next time. That’s how it was for me and singings. Oh, I remembered that they made me miserable. Ijust didn’t remember how badly—until I saw the gathering outside the barn. The boys were congregated in one group, having a pushing contest. The girls were congregated in another, having a gossip fest.
    Betsy was already practically glowing, but she lit up like a firefly when she saw Levi. “Let me out!”
    I pulled Thunder to a stop.
    Levi walked toward us, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re here!”
    They locked arms and twirled around, the skirt of Betsy’s dress poofing out a little.
    My stomach tied itself into a knot.
    Old Daniel Berg started to call the Youngie into the barn for the singing. The youth. I was anything but. I turned Thunder toward the line of buggies in the field, but then, instead of going straight, I swung wide and turned back toward the highway. Levi and Betsy were still outside. I called to her, but she ignored me. I called to Levi and he turned. “Can you give Betsy a ride home?”
    He grinned again and nodded. Of course he could.
    I turned