Matilda stood by the rickety old barn, squinting up at the blazing sun. It was her eleventh day in Wattle Creek, and the heat clung to her like sticky tape.
She wore her muddy jeans and Uncle Ben's oversized shirt, her sneakers caked in dirt.
Behind her stood the wombat statue, half-painted and a little wobbly, but it looked way better than when she started.
Matilda felt a tiny spark of pride, though she'd never admit it out loud. Things with Jack were getting better too.
Just yesterday, they'd sat and talked about his big dreams of surfing on faraway beaches and her parents' messy plans back in London.
Somehow, they ended up painting each other's arms with bright colors, laughing like kids.
It was silly, sure, but it made Matilda's heart feel light. She wasn't sure what they were—friends, or maybe something a bit more—but for now, she was okay with that.
Jack was already at the barn when she got there, banging nails into the wooden frame with a hammer.
He looked up as Matilda walked over, his face breaking into a wide grin.
"Hey, Matilda Rose," he said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "You ready to get to work today, or you planning to stand there all day?"
"Hey, Jack Thomas," she replied, dropping her heavy backpack onto the dusty ground. "I'm ready, but you better not run off like you did last time, okay? I'm not chasing you again."
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "No promises, Matilda. You know how I am."
He gave her a quick wink, and she rolled her eyes, though a small smile crept onto her face.
She grabbed a paintbrush and dipped it into the red paint, the sticky liquid clinging to her fingers as she started brushing it onto the wombat frame.
They worked better together now—Jack hammering away, Matilda painting slow and steady, like they'd found a rhythm that fit.
The sun climbed higher, burning the back of her neck. She swiped at the sweat on her face, accidentally leaving a bright red streak across her cheek.
Jack glanced over and burst out laughing. "Wow, Matilda, you're a total mess! Look at your face!"
"Shut up, Jack," she snapped, shooting him a playful glare. "You're all sweaty and gross yourself, you know."
He just shrugged, still grinning. "That's just how it is out here, Matilda Rose. Country life, you know? You'll get used to it one day."
She snorted, shaking her head. "Yeah, right, Jack. No way I'm getting used to this."
Jack slammed another nail into the wood, the sharp bang echoing in the air. Matilda liked the sound.
It felt like they were building something real, something that wouldn't fall apart.
By noon, Jack flopped down onto an old tire, pulling a sandwich out of his bag.
"Hey, Matilda, you want half of this?" he asked, holding it out to her.
"Sure, thanks, Jack," she said, plopping down beside him.
She took the piece he tore off for her. It was ham and cheese, a little squashed from being in his bag, but she didn't mind one bit.
Her stomach growled as she bit into it, chewing quickly.
"No kangaroos sneaking around to steal our food today," she said, her mouth half-full.
"Good," Jack said, his grin wide. "I'm keeping this sandwich all to myself this time, Matilda."
They both laughed, the sound soft and easy. The air was thick with heat, bugs buzzing lazily around them.
Matilda leaned back against the tire, eating more slowly now. She felt good—better than good, actually.
Jack wasn't so annoying when he was like this, sharing his food and making her laugh.
She didn't want to say it out loud, but she was starting to like him more every day. Maybe a lot more.
Then, out of nowhere, Matilda heard a strange noise. It wasn't loud, just a faint sliding sound in the dirt, like something brushing against the ground.
She turned her head, scanning the area. Nothing was there. "Jack, did you hear that?" she asked, her voice trembling just a little.
He looked around, his brow furrowing. "Hear what, Matilda? I didn't hear anything. Maybe it's just the wind blowing through?"
"There's no wind, Jack," she said, frowning.
The noise came again, closer this time, a soft scrape that made her skin prickle. Matilda stood up, her eyes locked on the bushes near the barn.
Something moved—long, brown, and slithery. Her heart froze in her chest.
"Jack, oh my gosh, it's a snake!" she squeaked, her voice high and shaky.
Jack jumped to his feet, his eyes wide. "Where is it, Matilda?" he asked, spinning around to look.
"Right there!" she said, pointing with a trembling hand.
The snake slid out from the bushes, fat and shiny, its flat head and black eyes glaring at them.
It coiled up in the dirt, hissing low and mean. Matilda let out a scream. She hated snakes—hated anything that slithered or crawled like that.
Her legs wobbled as she backed up, her foot catching on the tire. She fell hard, her elbow smacking the ground with a dull thud.
"Whoa, Matilda Rose, stay calm," Jack said, stepping in front of her. "It's just a brown snake, okay?"
"Just a brown snake?" she yelled, her voice shrill. "Jack Thomas, those things can kill us! Don't you know that?"
"Well, maybe," he said, scratching the back of his head. "But you gotta stay still, Matilda. Don't move a muscle, alright?"
"Don't move?" she said, her panic rising. "It's coming right at us, Jack!"
The snake slithered closer, its tongue flicking out like it was tasting the air. Matilda scrambled to her feet, her hands shaking so bad she could barely hold herself up.
She grabbed a stick from the ground, clutching it tightly. "I'm gonna hit it, Jack!"
"No, don't do that!" Jack said, waving his hands frantically. "You'll just make it madder, Matilda!"
"It's already mad!" she shouted.
She waved the stick at the snake, her arms trembling. The snake hissed louder, rearing up like it was ready to strike.
Matilda's heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst. In a panic, she threw the stick as hard as she could.
It missed completely, landing in the dirt with a useless thud. The snake darted toward the barn, quick as lightning.
"Oh, great job, Matilda Rose," Jack said, throwing his hands up. "Now it's inside the barn! Nice one!"
"This is your fault, Jack!" she said, pointing at him, her voice loud and angry. "You didn't stop it when you had the chance!"
"My fault?" he said, his mouth dropping open. "You're the one who threw a stick like a total idiot, Matilda!"
"It was gonna bite me!" she said, her cheeks burning.
She ran to the barn door and peeked inside, her heart still racing. The snake was by the toolbox, coiled up tight like a spring.
"Oh no, Jack, what do we do now?" Matilda asked.
"We gotta get it out," Jack said, grabbing a broom from the corner. "I'll sweep it out of there, okay?"
"You'll die!" Matilda said, her eyes wide with fear. "That thing's poisonous, Jack!"
"Probably," he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "But we can't just leave it in the barn, Matilda Rose."
Matilda's heart was racing faster than ever. She didn't want Jack to get bitten. She didn't want to get bitten either.
"Wait, hold on a second," she said, grabbing a rope from a pile of tools. "I'll catch it instead, okay?"
"Catch it?" Jack said, staring at her like she'd lost her mind. "Matilda, are you completely crazy?"
"Better than you dying, Jack Thomas," she said, her voice firm despite her shaking hands.
Her fingers fumbled as she tied a clumsy loop in the rope. She'd seen it on TV once—cowboys catching cows with lassos.
A snake wasn't a cow, but she was out of ideas. She crept closer to the snake, the rope trembling in her hands.
"Matilda, don't do it," Jack said, stepping toward her. "This is a really bad idea, I'm telling you."
"Be quiet, Jack," she said, glaring at him over her shoulder.
She swung the rope at the snake, her aim wobbly. It missed, tangling around her legs instead.
She tripped, falling into the dirt with a loud thud. The snake hissed, sliding toward her.
Matilda screamed, kicking her legs wildly. The rope tightened, trapping her feet and making everything worse.
"Hold still, Matilda Rose!" Jack said, running over. He dropped the broom and grabbed the rope. "Stop moving, you're making it worse!"
He pulled hard, yanking her legs and dragging her a little across the ground.
The snake stopped, just watching them with its cold eyes. Jack untangled the rope fast, his hands rough on the knots.
"You're completely insane, you know that?" he said, shaking his head.
"It almost got me, Jack!" Matilda said, scrambling to her feet.
Her jeans were covered in dust, and her ankle throbbed. The snake slithered under a crate, hiding itself.
"Now what do we do, Jack?" she asked.
"We trap it," Jack said, picking up a bucket and the broom. "You scare it out, and I'll catch it, okay?"
"Me scare it?" Matilda said, her mouth falling open. "No way, Jack Thomas!"
"You're loud," he said, grinning at her. "Just yell, Matilda. You're really good at that."
She glared at him, her hands on her hips. "Fine, but if I die, it's your fault, Jack," she said. She stomped her foot and shouted, "Get out, you stupid snake!"
The crate shook as the snake moved. It darted out, fast and angry. Jack swung the bucket, but he missed.
It hit the ground, rolling away. The snake headed straight for the barn door.
"Get it, Jack!" Matilda yelled, her voice hoarse.
She grabbed the broom and swung it wildly, hitting nothing but dirt. Jack lunged, pinning the snake's tail with the bucket.
It hissed and thrashed, but it couldn't move.
"I got it!" Jack said, his grin huge.
He slid a plank under the bucket, trapping the snake inside. Matilda panted, her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.
"Is it dead?" she asked, her voice still shaky.
"No, just stuck," Jack said. "I'll take it to the creek, Matilda Rose."
"Good," she said, nodding. "Far, far away, Jack."
Jack carried the bucket outside, walking slow and careful. Matilda followed, her legs still wobbly from all the panic.
He tipped the bucket by the creek, and the snake slithered off, disappearing into the bushes. Matilda let out a huge breath, her shoulders sagging.
"That was the worst thing ever," she said, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans.
"Yeah, but kinda funny," Jack said, laughing as he set the bucket down.
"Funny?" Matilda said, staring at him like he was crazy. "I almost died, Jack Thomas!"
"You didn't die," he said, still chuckling. "You're a snake catcher now, Matilda Rose."
"Shut up," she said, shoving his shoulder lightly.
But she laughed too, the sound bubbling up despite herself. Her heart was finally slowing down, the panic fading away like a bad dream.
They walked back to the barn, both of them dusty and sweaty. The wombat frame was still there, paint cans tipped over from her fall.
"We're such a mess," Matilda said, looking at herself and Jack.
"Always," Jack said, sitting back on the tire.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, leaving a streak of dirt. Matilda sat next to him, not too close but close enough to feel okay.
Her ankle was sore, but she didn't care. They'd caught a snake—together—and didn't die.
It was dumb, but it made her feel stronger than she'd ever felt.
"Hey, thanks, Jack," she said, her voice soft and a little shy. "For saving me back there, you know."
"You saved me too, Matilda," he said, his smile warm. "Kinda."
She smiled back, her cheeks warm. "Kinda."
They sat there as the sun started to dip, painting the sky orange. Matilda's head was all buzzy—snake, Jack, laughing, all mixed up.
She didn't hate Wattle Creek right then. Not with Jack Thomas Flynn sitting next to her, making everything feel a little less scary.