The Wild Path

by Sarah R. Baughman

  “So you just decided to leave? They didn’t make you stay?” Even as I speak them, the words sound soft and full of wonder. I sit on a hay bale and rub my shoulder, which hurts a lot, maybe from how I was lying down.

  “They can’t,” Andy says. “I completed my full required time, so after that Starshine Center is voluntary. I thought I might stay longer, but my therapists did say I was making such great progress that it would be okay to leave. They’re setting me up with some meetings to go to here so I can stay on track.”

  My head spins; the sparrows whirl. Then I feel something inside me harden. My voice turns cold. “Required time? If you could have left earlier, then why did you stay longer?”

  Andy takes both my hands in his. “I knew it was the right thing, Little C. There’s a lot that I need to explain to you, stuff that was just too hard to say in a letter.”

  I’m sure Andy wants to tell me the truth, even though I already know it. My heart somersaults. Seeing his face, his crooked baseball cap, his eyes with the stars in them, makes the cold in my voice crack open. “I missed you. I really wanted you to be here.”

  “I know.” Andy squeezes my hands, then lets them go. “But it was good for me.”

  “What about the rest of us, though?” Now my voice sounds as hard as the strike of a hoof on pavement. “What if it wasn’t good for us?” Andy’s extra time at Starshine meant more money. More loneliness and worry.

  Andy bows his head and pushes his baseball cap back.

  I grab my saddlebag and unzip it a little too roughly. “Look,” I say. “I know you don’t believe me about the horses, but I have proof. I—”

  But the hair has disappeared. I dig through the stones, down to the bottom of the bag, but it’s gone.

  “Never mind.” My voice feels like it’s going to burst into flame. I shake the saddlebag and fistfuls of stones tumble like water to the barn floor, black and silver, smooth and cold, more than I realized I’d taken.

  Andy smiles, but his eyes are sad. “Hey, cool. Worry stones. You remembered.” He picks one up and rubs it in his palm. “Thanks, Little C.”

  “I’m the one who really needs those,” I snap. “All I’ve been doing is worrying about you. And about the horses—like how I’ll ever figure out how to keep them, without you to help! Meanwhile, you were just trying to figure out what you could do without us!” The flame inside reaches so high it fills my eyes, and tears gather and spill.

  Andy reaches out and touches my elbow, but I flinch. I need to finish my project before tomorrow, and being around Andy makes it hard to focus.

  I leave him there in the barn with my saddlebag, surrounded by stones.

  CHAPTER 23

  I’m running, breath heaving, feet pounding the path leading from the barn to the house. I have no idea what I’ll say to Mom when I arrive. I just need to get away from Andy.

  At the porch, I stop short, double over with my hands on my knees. Slowly, I open the door.

  Mom rushes out from the living room. “Claire!” she says, squeezing my shoulders, her knuckles white. “Where did you go? We were worried sick.”

  “Why is he here?” I ask.

  Mom’s face falls. She can see I’m not smiling. “I know it’s a surprise. But honestly, Claire, it was a surprise for us too. He just called us last night.”

  “It wouldn’t have been that difficult to tell me.” My voice is hard as stone.

  Mom sighs. “We were planning to talk to you tonight, then pick Andy up as a family tomorrow, but then Starshine said it would be best to do the pickup today, and we couldn’t find you. Haven’t you gotten my texts?”

  “I didn’t check.” After school, I’d stuck my head in the door and yelled “Barn!” without waiting for Mom’s or Dad’s answer. Turns out they were gone.

  “But that was one of the rules, Claire.” Mom’s voice is tired. “We weren’t too worried at first, but by the time we realized you weren’t at Maya’s or the barn and the snow had started, I was really scared. We all were.”

  “Where’s Dad?” I ask.

  “He’s been out in the woods, looking for you,” Mom says. “Andy texted us both when you got to the barn. He should be back soon.”

  “So Andy’s just—here now?” When he left, our house felt so strange, so empty and quiet. But now the strangeness comes from knowing he’s here, filling all the rooms back up with something I don’t know if I want. “Does he know about the pills I found?”

  “We went to the pharmacy together and got rid of them,” Mom says. “All three of us. First thing.”

  Just then, the porch door opens and Dad and Andy come in, stomping their feet.

  “Claire!” Dad rushes to me. Then he holds me at arm’s length, looks hard into my face. “I don’t know whether to hug you or scream at you. Where have you been?”

  “In the woods,” I whisper. The thickening trees, the darkness falling, the whirling snow and pounding hooves—it feels like a dream.

  Dad shakes his head. “Well, we’re going to have to revisit this whole riding arrangement, especially now that winter’s coming.” He glances at Mom.

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have that much more time left with them anyway.” I can hear the dullness in my voice. Without one of the wild horses, I’ll just have a normal project; my chances of winning the money will be slimmer. I don’t know how the equine therapy plan can work.

  Dad sighs, looks at the floor.

  “Who’s hungry?” Andy asks.

  Nobody says anything.

  “You know what sounds good?” Andy says. “Pizza.”

  Silence swells, so thick it feels like a bubble closing all of us in.

  “Come on,” Andy pleads. “I haven’t had it in forever. Starshine had good food, but it wasn’t takeout pizza, you know?”

  “Okay,” Mom finally says. “Pizza does sound good.”

  “I’ll go pick it up.” Andy grabs his keys from the counter.

  Mom and Dad look nervously at each other. “I can get it!” Mom says brightly.

  “I can too,” Dad says.

  “Um. So can I.” Andy starts to head out the door, but then Dad grabs the keys.

  “Hang on, son,” he says. “Why don’t you let one of us come with you?”

  “Hey!” Andy reaches for the keys, but Dad quickly sticks them in his pocket. Then Andy lets go of the doorknob and crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay. I know what’s going on here.”

  “There’s nothing going on,” Mom says, her smile too big. “We just think it would be good for you to—you know. Have some company.”

  “Because you don’t trust me.” Andy sounds worn out, but there’s an edge in his voice too.

  The bubble of silence swells again, shimmering. We’re all stuck in it. Words jumble inside me, mixed with flutters and stabs of heat.

  Dad clears his throat. “Well,” he says. “Trust is something you have to build. Especially when you’ve already knocked it down a few times.”

  Andy shakes his head. “Unbelievable,” he says. “See, this is why I knew I wouldn’t be able to live here. You’ll never really believe I changed.”

  “Well, have you?” I blurt out. “How do we know you won’t steal from Mom and Dad again?”

  Andy looks at me, his eyes so sad I almost wish I hadn’t said the words. Still, I had to let them out.

  When he answers me, he’s not angry, just quiet. “I don’t know how to prove it, Little C. I just know I’m different now. Starshine really helped.”

  “It will take time,” Mom says softly. “For all of us. But for now, how about you go get the pizza?” She motions toward the door. “Pepperoni, please. Lots of it.”

  Dad opens his mouth to speak, but then he closes it. Hands the keys to Andy.

  Andy looks from Mom to Dad, and then to me. “Thanks, guys,” he says. “I’ll be back soon.”

  The pizza’s perfectly hot, the cheese still bubbling.

  We chew in silence. From the outside, I know it loo
ks like any of the family dinners we used to have, back before Starshine and all the rest. But from the inside, it feels completely different.

  It feels like when I have Sam all tacked up and I bring him outside and realize he’s been puffing his chest out to make the cinch way looser than it needs to be. I have to tighten it again and again to make sure the saddle will stay put when I step into the stirrup.

  When Andy came back from the restaurant in record time holding a just-made pizza, our family’s cinch tightened just a little. But it’ll still be a while before I feel like the saddle’s on quite right.

  “Have you guys been going to those support group meetings?” Andy asks.

  “I have,” I say.

  “It sounded like you’re starting to like them.” Andy smiles.

  “The other kids are really cool.” I think about how it will feel to talk in the next meeting and tell everyone about Andy coming back, how I’ll always have a place to bring my words now.

  Andy turns to Mom and Dad. “Do you guys go?”

  Mom flushes. “I meant to.”

  Dad looks down at his plate and shakes his head. “I can see how maybe we should give it a try.”

  “I guess I thought Starshine was doing everything for you that could be done,” Mom says.

  “Yeah, but the meetings aren’t really for Andy,” I say. “They’re for me.”

  Mom looks confused. “What do you mean by that, Claire?”

  “Andy has this problem,” I say. “But even though I love him, I can’t fix it. I have to think about myself too. The meetings help me do that.”

  Andy smiles. “Bingo,” he says quietly.

  There’s a knock at the door. “Huh,” Mom says. “Wonder who that is.” She scoots her chair back and heads out to the porch. “Nate!” she says. “What a surprise.”

  Andy coughs in the middle of a bite of pizza, has to work hard to chew and swallow it. His face goes totally pale.

  “I got it, Mom,” he says, rushing to the door.

  “Nate hasn’t come around in ages!” Mom gushes. “We need to chat.”

  Dad starts to get up, but Andy beats him to the door and steps just in front of Mom. “No, seriously,” he says. “I’ve got this.”

  I freeze, clench my hands at my sides. When Mom opened the door, a flock of sparrows rushed in and caught my heart.

  “It’s cool that you’re home,” Nate says, slapping Andy on the back. “You should come out with us tonight.”

  Andy shakes his head. “No, thanks.”

  “Oh, come on.” Nate punches his arm. “Everyone wants to see you.”

  “I’m going to stick around here,” Andy says.

  “Whatever, dude.” Nate peeks into the kitchen, catches my eyes, and looks away. “Hey, can I go up to your room, though? Grab that textbook I left?”

  Hearing Nate and Andy, I feel the flutter inside me grow. I look at Mom and Dad, and they’re listening too. Dad’s eyes narrow and he starts to stand up again, then sits when Andy’s voice comes through strong.

  “No way, man. I told you in the text,” Andy says. “I’m done with that.”

  “I didn’t think you were actually serious.” Nate takes a step back, then drops his voice so low I barely hear it. “Where are they, though?”

  “Gone.” Andy’s voice is cold.

  “Wow.” Nate shakes his head. His face flushes red, but his eyes look hard, sharp. “Well, I’m heading out. Good luck, bud. Let me know if you change your mind.”

  He leaves, and Andy turns back around, softly shuts the door. His shoulders stoop forward; he rubs the back of his neck. When he returns to the kitchen, he looks older somehow.

  “What was that about?” Mom asks.

  Andy shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just don’t think we’ll be hanging out much anymore.”

  Dad looks carefully at Andy. He leans back, rests his chin in one hand. “Maybe for the best, huh?”

  “Definitely.” Andy nods, looks at me.

  The cinch tightens one more notch.

  CHAPTER 24

  I wake up in darkness, too early, sparrows swooping through my chest. My insides are empty and crowded at the same time, and all I want to do is crawl out of my skin. I’ve never woken up with this feeling before, but as soon as I open my eyes, I remember Sam’s cut, Andy coming back, Sunny running away, the wild horses bringing me home. Memories gather inside like a storm and sweep over every part of me.

  When I get downstairs, I find Mom and Dad in the kitchen already, drinking coffee. Mom takes one look at me and comes over, puts her arm around my shoulders. “Claire?” she asks. “Are you okay? You’re trembling.”

  I take a deep breath, but even that’s shaky. I feel like my whole body has turned into one big wing that could fly away.

  At first I can’t answer Mom. I just shake my head. Dad comes to stand on my other side, and with both of them holding on to me, I feel some of the shakiness pass.

  “I’m just really, really… worried,” I finally say. It’s the only word I can put on the feeling, even if it seems like more than that. “It makes me feel fluttery inside.”

  Dad gently guides me toward my usual chair.

  “You’ve been feeling that way more lately, haven’t you?” Mom asks. “I could tell that day in the car, when I picked you up at Maya’s.”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t think she had noticed. “Deep breathing helps. And also, just waiting. Being by myself until it goes away.”

  “Hon,” Dad says, “feeling worried is part of life. But sometimes when it gets to affect your body like that, it might mean you’re dealing with something called anxiety. I see it in my students a lot.”

  “Do you think some of this might have to do with Andy being back?” Mom asks softly. “I know you weren’t expecting it.”

  “Maybe.” Last night with Andy, I left the dinner table early, saying I needed to work on my project—which was true. It just wasn’t the whole truth. The whole truth had a lot to do with not knowing how to feel about Andy.

  “The point,” Dad continues, “is that a little bit of anxiety is normal, but a lot can be a reason to get some extra help. Talking to someone can be a good start.”

  “Let’s keep an eye on it, okay?” Mom says. “It’s good that you figured out the deep breathing. But keep communicating with us. If it feels like it’s getting to be too much, like it’s happening too often, we can look at next steps.” She reaches out and hugs me twice. “One for love, one for good luck,” she whispers.

  “Okay,” I say. That seems fair. Feeling Mom’s and Dad’s hands on me and listening to the air go in and out of my mouth as I breathe and talk, I can tell it’s getting a little better. For now.

  In the afternoon, Maya and I set up our presentations right next to each other.

  “Are you nervous?” she asks. She knows I am—she’s just trying to keep me talking. “Want to do another quick run-through with me?”

  “No, thanks.” I’ve practiced enough in front of my bedroom mirror, so I think going over it again would make me more nervous.

  I turn around to look at my poster, and Maya stands beside me. “It looks really great,” she says.

  “Thanks.” I can’t help smiling. My poster has pictures of Jack Hamilton, a blown-up copy of the article, a topographical map showing Cedar Lake and Pine Lake, pictures of logging, sugaring, and farming equipment, and a list of the steps to take to establish an equine therapy business along with some examples of successful businesses in other places. On the table where my poster is propped up, I’ve placed the box with each of its contents labeled, plus a small pile of extra stones, the horseshoe, and a description I added:

  THE LEGEND OF THE LAKES

  Almost a hundred years ago, Jack Hamilton survived a dangerous fall through the ice on Cedar Lake. Although everyone was grateful he made it out alive, he and his family mourned their team of horses, which fell through the ice and were never found. They had been used in all the important ways horses w
ere back then: for farming tasks and transportation. Losing them was a big deal.

  But Jack was convinced they hadn’t been lost at all. He believed his horses had survived. After finding pieces of their harness floating in a different body of water, Pine Lake, he knew they must have escaped somehow. Could a secret underground tunnel connect Pine Lake with Cedar Lake? Did the horses find it, and travel through the underwater tunnel until they came out the other side? Whatever Jack believed, he hung on to it for the rest of his life. Even today, if you’re looking closely, you can find evidence of wild horses in the woods surrounding Pebble Mountain. Maybe they’re descendants of those fallen horses. Maybe Jack was right.

  I don’t have the horse I wanted to catch. Still, my project combines everything I’ve learned and believe, and it does what Ms. Larkin said it should do: It shows the past and the future, including my future. How it’s all connected.

  But Maya’s project looks even more amazing. She decided to do a Google Slides presentation, and it includes a video she made, reenacting one of Edna Beard’s speeches on the House floor. She also has all kinds of information about how Edna Beard influenced law today, and how she personally would implement Edna’s values in her own career. Maya even dressed up for this, in a long-sleeved black dress with a fancy collar pinned to it. She’s speaking as Edna Beard too, so everyone who comes to look at her presentation can feel like they’re interviewing Edna Beard herself.

  Everyone else from our class is spread across the great room in the community center, and Ms. Larkin lets us all take a few minutes to walk around and look at one another’s work.

  It’s pretty cool to see what my classmates have done. Cory’s project shows the history of film, with pictures of old movie scenes and explanations of how techniques in film have evolved over time. He even has two versions of Aladdin playing to demonstrate how the same story can be portrayed differently. For her fashion project, Jamila sketched dozens of outfits from different decades. Around the room, there are presentations on cars, cooking, historical figures, and sports.