Eager Star

by Dandi Daley Mackall

  “Towaco?” I asked, slipping back the knot that held the gate shut.

  “Of course!” Hawk answered. “I’ve been so worried, Winnie!”

  Summer yawned. “I tried to tell you not to put your horse here. Just look at this place.”

  Compared to the sleek, almost too-clean and professional Stable-Mart, our barn did look run-down. But unlike the Spidells’ horse factory, ours was horse-friendly.

  I shoved the gate open and led Nickers through. Horses, I can handle. People? That’s a whole different thing.

  I surveyed the pasture. No Towaco. My stomach tightened as I gave a laugh that sounded fake even to me. “Towaco’s so used to being cooped up in Spidells’ Stable-Mart, he’s probably hiding in the barn for old time’s sake.”

  “At least we always know where our horses are,” Summer said haughtily. She unwrapped a stick of gum, folded it, and stuck it in her mouth, dropping the wrapper.

  Lizzy picked up the wrapper and in a cheery voice said, “Oops. Dropped this, Summer. There you go.”

  Summer had no choice but to take the wrapper and say thanks.

  I raced to the barn. Several wild cats streaked to the haystacks. Slanted light crisscrossed the wood floor. I ran down the stallway, calling into each stall. No Towaco.

  Just great. My first customer, and I lose her horse! Winnie the Horse Loser.

  Hawk and Summer followed me in.

  “So?” Hawk glanced around the barn. “What have you done with my horse?”

  “He–I–,” I stammered.

  Summer shook her head and put her arm around Hawk. “Winnie Willis, are you telling me you couldn’t keep track of Victoria’s horse for one hour?” Summer and her friends still called Hawk Victoria. Maybe that explained why Hawk could act like two different people sometimes.

  I couldn’t get words to come out. Instead, my mind flashed pictures of Towaco hovering next to the barn. That’s what my mind does, whether I want it to or not. It snaps pictures that come back hours, days, even years later. They call it a photographic memory, which would be great if I had more control over which shots got taken.

  Lizzy came to my rescue. “Of course Winnie hasn’t lost your horse, Hawk! Towaco is . . . he’s just . . .”

  This was so bad, even Lizzy was having trouble explaining it away!

  “. . . just,” Lizzy continued, “. . . misplaced. That’s it!”

  Summer whispered to Hawk, but I tuned them out and tried to think like Towaco: My new home looked friendly . . . until that mare got so angry. I don’t know what I did wrong. I tried to stay out of her way, but she still kicked at me. And those teeth!

  It was working. I could almost feel Towaco’s fear. He’d wanted to please Nickers, but he couldn’t. The white horse left, but she’ll be back. So . . .

  “Got it!” I cried. “Towaco jumped the fence when Nickers and I left.”

  “Got it!” echoed Hawk’s bird.

  “I’ll bring Towaco back, and we’ll start over!” I said, hoping, praying Hawk would let me.

  “I’m coming with you,” Hawk insisted.

  I didn’t want company. I figured, still thinking like a horse, that Towaco would head north, as far away from Nickers as he could get. I’d send Hawk the other way. “Hawk, we’ll find Towaco faster if we split up. You and Summer head to Stable-Mart in case Towaco goes back there. Lizzy can stay here. I’ll head into town.”

  “That’s the first good idea I’ve heard all day,” Summer said, sneering. “If Towaco has a brain, he’ll head back to our stable, where he won’t get roughed up by wild horses.”

  “Go!” Lizzy’s fence lizard, Larry, poked its head from her shirt pocket. “Larry and I will keep a lookout here.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Hawk looked torn.

  Summer tugged Hawk in the direction of Stable-Mart. “Don’t worry, Victoria. We’ll get everything back to normal.”

  I wheeled out the back bike, Dad’s backward bicycle invention, and pushed it across our junky yard, filled with “works-in-progress,” as Dad calls the broken appliances dumped off for him to repair. With all the inventions Dad worked on, it hadn’t taken long for him to get the title Odd-Job Willis in town.

  Once in the street, I hopped on the bike, which looks normal. It goes forward, but only when you pedal backwards, which is what I did as fast as I could.

  “Towaco!” For two blocks I called, but no sign of him. I sniffed. The sweet smell of manure let me know I was on the right track.

  In front of Pat’s Pets, I slammed on the brakes—first backward, making me go faster, then frontward. Pat Haven had given me a job working the computer pet help line. That was where I got to know Barker and Catman. Pat hired them for the help line too. She’d help me find Towaco.

  The door opened, and down the steps came Catman Coolidge, walking like he was made of rubber. Catman’s a year older than I am, but he looks a lot older. With his long, wavy blond hair, fringed flairs, and tie-dyed shirt, he looked like a hippie from the 60s and 70s.

  “Catman!” I shouted.

  He squinted his amazing Siamese-blue, cat-shaped eyes from behind gold, wire-rimmed glasses and held up a two-fingered V, the peace sign. Usually he wears sandals, but today he was barefoot.

  “Catman, I lost Hawk’s horse!”

  “Far out,” he said, no hint of a grin.

  I walked the bike to him. “If I don’t find that horse fast, Hawk might take him back to Stable-Mart. And Towaco—”

  Catman raised one finger to shush me. “Found him.”

  “What—?” But I stopped.

  A car honked, then another, long and angry. The honking was coming from Claremont and Main, the busiest intersection in Ashland.

  “Barker!” Catman whistled through his fingers.

  Around the corner came Eddy Barker, led by three dogs that looked like a canine version of The Three Bears—big, middle-sized, and wee. Barker wore a Cleveland Indians baseball cap backwards and shades. His skin was the color of the big, chocolate Lab straining at the leash. “Winnie! Horse! Downtown!”

  I dropped my bike and took off running, praying Towaco would be okay. Barker’s dogs barked at my heels. Catman passed me. Horns blared.

  We rounded the corner. There in the exact center of the intersection stood Towaco, statue still, as if he couldn’t hear the horns.

  But I knew he heard them.

  Crowds gathered on the sidewalk, some shouting, some laughing. I wanted to cry for Towaco.

  “Careful, Winnie!” Barker called.

  I was still weaving among cars when I saw Catman ahead, circling the air with his peace sign. Miraculously one car pulled out of line, circled back, and drove off. The next car did the same, and the next, clearing out a whole lane.

  Meanwhile Barker and his dogs moved back and forth, calming traffic like a crossing guard.

  I inched toward Towaco. “You’re a brave horse!”

  Towaco’s glassy eyes stared past me. He didn’t flinch when I took hold of his halter.

  “You’re a good horse for standing still.” Mom taught me you can always find something to praise a horse for.

  Ninety-nine percent of the horses I meet will follow me, but Towaco’s legs seemed glued to the street. One problem Hawk wanted me to work her horse through was balking.

  So is this my chance, God?

  Someone yelled out a car window. I glanced up in time to see Catman raise his thumb and pinkie, the Hawaiian sign for “hang loose.”

  “Think about something else, Towaco.” Gently I tucked the tip of his ear under the top of his halter. It wouldn’t hurt, but it could make him wonder.

  After a few seconds, Towaco’s eyes came back into focus. He shook his head. The ear flicked up. I had my chance, and I took it, tugging him sideways. He followed me, switching flies with his tail as if nothing else mattered.

  “Thanks!” I yelled to Barker and Catman as they handled the last of the traffic.

  And thanks, God!

  I led Towaco
past Pat’s Pets to my street. Winnie the Horse Gentler was back in business!

  Or not.

  There in our yard was my dad, arms folded. Next to him stood Summer, hands on hips. Hawk was wiping away tears. And Hawk’s mother glared at me as if I were a horse thief. Looming at the curb was the trailer, tailgate down and ready, waiting to take Towaco away.

  Hawk hugged her horse while Mrs. Hawkins checked the gelding for injuries.

  Lizzy did most of the talking for my side, while Dad made little disapproving noises that made my stomach ache.

  When she’d finished her inspection, Hawk’s mom turned to Hawk. “Your horse seems to be in one piece, Victoria. Shall we load him?”

  My grip tightened on Towaco’s halter. “Please, Hawk.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed. “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again.”

  Summer made a harrrumph.

  Mrs. Hawkins, who looks more like a brown-haired Summer than she does Hawk, glanced at the pasture, then back to her daughter. “I think we should move the horse back to Stable-Mart, but I’ll leave the decision to you.”

  “Hawk, I can help Towaco. I know I can! Please give me another chance.” Inside I was making the same plea to God.

  “You won’t be sorry!” Lizzy promised. “You know Winnie rocks with horses!”

  Hawk stroked Towaco under his mane. He’d relaxed so much his eyelids almost shut when she scratched him. She kept silent a full minute before she spoke. “Towaco can stay—but only if Wild Thing stops frightening him!”

  I fought the urge to remind her that my horse’s name is Nickers, not Wild Thing. But Hawk was saving my skin. “Thanks, Hawk!”

  Mrs. Hawkins left with Hawk, Summer, and an empty trailer. I was getting a second chance, and I better not blow it. I needed another client, another horse to gentle. I sure couldn’t afford to lose the one I already had.

  Lizzy ran inside to get dinner.

  Dad still hadn’t said anything to me, if you don’t count sighs. He followed me to the pasture and opened the gate. I knew it was costing him not to bawl me out. He didn’t need to. I felt lousy enough. Lizzy says our dad is handsome for an old person, but I don’t know. He’s tall, thin, with curly black hair that gets pretty scraggly before he thinks about a haircut.

  “Winnie . . .” Dad opened his mouth, then shut it. “Don’t be long.”

  I watched Dad shuffle away.

  As soon as I turned Towaco loose, Nickers protested, snorting and squealing. Poor Towaco tried being friendly, backing off, squealing back—everything. But in Nickers’ eyes, the Appaloosa could do nothing right.

  I knew just how Towaco felt.

  “I can’t wait for school tomorrow!” Lizzy exclaimed as Dad and I munched quietly on the tuna patties she’d molded into turtles. “Remember that green shirt I haven’t worn in a year? I stitched the collar down and hemmed it short. It rocks with my khakis! How about you, Winnie? What are you wearing your first day of seventh grade?”

  “Haven’t thought about it,” I answered truthfully.

  “Winnie!” Lizzy cried. “How could you not have thought about it?”

  I set down my fork and glanced at Dad. “Guess I was worried about other stuff.”

  “What other stuff?” Lizzy demanded.

  “Like . . . getting a reputation as a great horse gentler.” One who doesn’t lose horses anyway.

  “Sweet!” Lizzy squeezed my arm. “A new school is like the perfect place for getting a reputation! You can be anybody you want! It’s a do-over!”

  A picture flashed into my mind of the only time I’d seen Mom thrown from a horse. She’d bought an abused buckskin off some horse trader. Lizzy toddled out to the training pen. Mom turned to see her, and that was all the excuse the buckskin needed. The mare bucked a series of hard, twisted kicks, and Mom flew to the dirt. She sat in the dust for several minutes. Then she got up, walked straight to that horse, looked her in the eyes, said “Do-over,” and got back on. The buckskin ended up being her favorite mount. It was the first horse Dad sold after Mom died.

  “A do-over,” I repeated. In a way I’d been bucked off most of the schools we’d attended in the I states. Well, not really. I just never seemed to fit in. Making new friends had been so hard, it was just easier to do things alone.

  Dad looked up. “Listen to Lizzy, honey.”

  I knew what Dad was saying: Be more like Lizzy this time—adored by teachers and students. Dad had never gotten a call from one of Lizzy’s teachers, asking him to come in and discuss her. Not that Dad didn’t love me as much as Lizzy. I knew he did. Lizzy’s just easier. Mom told me once that Dad had been so sure I’d be a boy, my name had almost been William. So I guess I’d disappointed him from day one.

  “Bet lots of kids around here have horses,” Dad said, talking to Lizzy instead of me. “Some of them must have problems—the horses, I mean.” Dad turned to me. “But schoolwork comes first. Maybe taking on another horse would be too much.”

  “No way! I’ve been working with Towaco, even while he was still at Stable-Mart. He’s easy.” Anyway, Mom and I had gentled a dozen at once.

  Dad sighed and scooted his chair back. “Well, I think I’ll see if I can get my cat horn working, a little invention Catman and I are working on. Did you know that Einstein invented the cat door? Catman told me. Maybe I should give him a call and see if he wants to help.”

  “Dad?” Lizzy scraped leftover tuna turtle into a plastic bag while I cleared the table.

  “Maybe I should work on my automatic table-clearing machine,” Dad mumbled. “Did you know the dishwasher was invented by the wife of an Illinois politician, and not because she hated doing dishes? Her servants kept breaking her china and—”

  Lizzy interrupted. “Dad, shouldn’t you make calls first?”

  Dad had just taken an extra job until one of his inventions caught on, or until he got more odd-job work like the projects already sitting in our yard. Mr. Spidell had turned him down on stocking the back bike at A-Mart. So my dad, who hadn’t used a cellular phone since he quit his insurance job in Wyoming, had to call strangers and convince them life was not complete without a cell phone.

  Dad’s face sagged as if the muscles had snapped. “You’re right.”

  I wanted to make him feel better. “And you’re right about school, Dad!” I forced a smile. “I’ll make those teachers and kids crazy about me! Some of them are bound to hire me to gentle their horses! You’ll see.”

  But my mind shot photos to my brain of the kids at the last school, where everybody but me knew the secret codes. This is in, that’s not. That’s cool, that’s dumb.

  “Too bad it’s not a school for horses though,” I muttered when I thought Dad was out of hearing. “Horses are so much easier to understand than humans.”

  Dad bounded back into the kitchen. “Eureka, Winnie! All you have to do is think of those students as horses! Teachers too, only I wouldn’t let them know. Treat them like you do your horses, and they’ll stampede to your barn!”

  The next morning I woke up at five and couldn’t get back to sleep.

  Lizzy, already dressed, stood humming over a pan of hash browns. The humming stopped when I walked in decked out in my old blue jeans and a ratty T-shirt. “Winnie! You can’t wear that!”

  I grinned. “I’m going for a ride, Lizzy.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be back in plenty of time. I’ll wear anything you pick out for me, okay?” Not that there was much to pick from. Each time we moved, we left more stuff behind, parts of ourselves, shedding our skins like snakes.

  In minutes Nickers and I were cantering through a morning dipped in dew, her hoofbeats the drums to overhead geese. This was my world, the only time I felt totally okay.

  But I’d have to make middle school my world too. For the first time, I really cared about making a good impression. People had to get to know Winnie the Horse Gentler.

  The sun was up by the time we trotted back home. Towaco whinnied and came in for
oats. He seemed more at home. I didn’t think it would take long to work out his kinks, now that he was free from Stable-Mart.

  “You’re back!” Lizzy cried when the screen door slammed behind me. “Dad knew you’d be late, but you’re not! I set out your best jeans and that turquoise shirt. Brings out the green in your eyes.”

  When I came out of the shower, I heard Dad banging on something outside. Another invention. Lizzy had my backpack loaded with three notebooks and a brown bag.

  “Thanks for packing me a lunch, Lizzy.” I tried not to think about the notes Mom used to drop into our lunch boxes, how I’d hide them under my napkin. “I wish sixth through eighth grades were together like in Wyoming. At least we’d be in the same building.”

  “It’s a short week, Winnie. You’ll do fine!”

  That part I liked, starting on the Wednesday before Labor Day. It gave us three days on, then three days off to get over it.

  Lizzy pulled on her orange backpack. “Sweet! I’m off.”

  Lizzy had always been the first kid to school, waiting for the doors to open. I still needed to fix my hair.

  As I was leaving, Dad climbed into his truck. We’d sold our car in Wyoming and crossed the country in the cattle truck. It took all of Dad’s inventor skills to keep the thing running.

  “Winnie? I thought you’d left already!” The engine caught on the third try. Exhaust fumes shot up like thunderclouds.

  “Plenty of time!” I shouted, waving. I haven’t blown it yet, Dad.

  He waved back, and the truck jerked forward, then chugged off down the street. Lizzy had stuck on a new bumper sticker: We brake for bugs!

  From the pasture came a sharp whinny. Nickers neighed. I couldn’t leave without checking on the horses. I dropped my bike and ran.

  Nickers and Towaco stood a horse’s length apart. Nickers, ears flicking, stuck out her muzzle, flared nostrils at Towaco. She was trying to make friends!

  But Towaco didn’t understand. He took off in a dead run to the back of the pasture. Nickers whinnied, trying to call him back. But when Towaco kept running, Nickers bucked, offended, then tore out after the Appaloosa.