The Perfect Distance

by Kim Ablon Whitney

  “I don’t want a beer,” I told him. I don’t want to cheat either—I wanted to add.

  “What?” he shouted. “You don’t want a beer?”

  It was clear that Doug, Peters, and Pepper had already been pre-gaming, as Becca and Tracy called it.

  Thankfully, before I had to take any more crap for not drinking or not being cool, Becca came outside.

  “Hey, babe,” Doug said, slinging his arm around her.

  “I think you better go rescue your friend,” Becca told me. “She’s all over Tom, and I just saw them heading to one of the bedrooms.”

  “She can look out for herself,” I said. “She knows what she’s doing.”

  “I don’t know. She had three more Jell-O shots. She’s pretty wasted.”

  “Tom Deacon?” Doug asked. “Francie’s friend is hooking up with Tom Deacon?” He said it like he couldn’t believe Tom would ever be interested in a friend of mine. I wanted to point out that he was going out with a friend of mine.

  “She’s from New York City,” Becca said, as if that explained everything.

  “Cool,” Doug said. “He needs to get his mind off Jenna.”

  At Doug’s words I stood up and pushed past him and Becca back into the house. I wasn’t going to let Katie get used like that. Not like Doug had used me to pass the test. I was sick of people getting away with things they shouldn’t have. “You have to look out for people who can’t help themselves,” Dad always said. I thought about how he helped out the other grooms if they needed him: with money, with a ride. How he even tried to help the ones who started drinking.

  Becca followed me inside. We found Katie and Tom in the hallway pressed up against the wall, kissing. Tom’s hands were all over her.

  “Katie,” I said.

  She turned to look at me. “What?”

  “We have to leave. My dad is going to kill me.” This was only a partial lie. It was going on eleven, and if I wasn’t home by eleven-thirty, Dad certainly wouldn’t be happy.

  “So leave,” Katie said.

  “I can’t. You drove, remember?”

  “You heard her,” Tom said. “Get lost.”

  Katie dug into her pocket and threw her keys at me.

  “No,” I said, catching her Tiffany heart-shaped key chain. “I’m not leaving without you.” When this didn’t seem to have any impact, I added, “If you don’t come, my dad probably won’t let me ride next weekend.” I wasn’t sure if this was true, but it could be, and anyway, I would have said anything to convince Katie.

  We all stood there for a moment wondering what would happen. Tom, wondering if his chance at hooking up with a rich girl from New York City was going to happen; Becca wondering, I’m sure, why I was friends with Katie to begin with; and me wondering if Katie was going to listen to me and what, for that matter, I would do if she didn’t.

  “Fine,” she said, wriggling out of Tom’s grasp and taking a wobbly step toward me. “But I’m never going to forgive you for this.”

  I walked the few steps to meet her and linked my arm through hers. “Let’s go,” I said.

  She called good-bye to Tom over her shoulder. We passed Doug and the twins in the hallway. I thought I saw Becca shoot Doug an annoyed look, but maybe it was just wishful thinking.

  Outside, Becca helped me get Katie into the car. I climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted the side mirrors.

  “Look at you, driving a BMW!” Becca said.

  Katie sulked in the passenger’s seat. “You better not crash it,” she muttered.

  I had half a mind to open the door and roll her onto the sidewalk, but I kept trying to think of what Dad would do. So instead I started the car and slowly moved away from the curb.

  “Drive carefully,” Becca said. “Text me, okay?”

  Katie was silent, staring out the window, for the whole trip back to the barn. I pulled up outside the gardener’s house and killed the engine. I was about to get out and leave Katie in the car for all I cared when I heard her start crying. Then she said, “I’m sorry, Francie, I’m so sorry.” She was really blubbering now. “It’s just everything with my dad and not making the Maclay Finals. Do you know he offered Rob money to try to get me into the Maclay Finals—like to bribe someone? Not to mention the bonus he promised Rob if I get a ribbon at any of the finals this year. And I’m still not over everything with Jump Crew Jackass. I mean, he took money over me, you know? And that Tom guy . . . I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t even like him. He’s not like Colby. Colby’s a guy I could see myself really having a relationship with, you know? Not just a one-night thing.” Katie pressed her face into her hands. “If you hadn’t come to get me . . . Oh God, I’m such a slut.”

  “You’re not a slut,” I said.

  “I am. I’m a total slut.”

  “You were about to make a bad decision,” I said. “That’s all.” If anyone could understand a bad decision, it was me. I hated myself for giving my test to Doug and for feeling cool just because he invited me to a party.

  Katie looked up at me, mascara tracks running down her face. “You’re the best friend anyone could ever have. I love you, okay? I love you.”

  Right then I couldn’t do anything but laugh. What a night it had been all around. One minute she hated me, the next she loved me. Poor Katie. She was a total mess. And I didn’t feel too far behind her.

  Chapter Eleven

  * * *

  I was in the tack room the next day cleaning a mass of bridles when Colby came in. I got all tingly when I saw him, and I wondered when that was going to stop. How many times would it be before seeing him didn’t make my whole body jump? This time I was especially glad to see him after everything that had happened the night before.

  “Okay, don’t worry, I’m not going to ask whether I can help,” he said, eyeing the dirty bridles. “I’m just going to sit here and talk to you, okay?”

  I tossed my wet sponge at him. “No, you can help.”

  He caught the sponge and dunked it in the bucket of warm water, soaped it up, and started in on one of the bridles.

  Although cleaning everyone else’s tack and mucking ten stalls a day got old fast, I could never imagine not at least cleaning my own tack or taking care of my own horse. Not even if I was Reed Kessler. It was part of riding for me, even if it wasn’t for people like Katie and Tara.

  “When did you get back?” I asked Colby.

  “Just a little while ago. I was ravenous after the flight, so I stopped to raid Katie’s food stash.”

  “You should be careful,” I said, sounding too much like Dad.

  “Why?”

  “You’ll give her the wrong idea.”

  “Well, I didn’t even get to see her,” Colby said. “She was in bed. I guess she’s not feeling well. Some kind of stomach bug, Rob said.”

  After I had dropped Katie off, she spent the night throwing up. Worshiping the porcelain god, she had called it. I had stopped by that morning to check on her and found her sickly pale and guzzling bottles of Fiji water. She certainly couldn’t ride—if she had, it would have been uglier than usual—so she’d told Rob she had the stomach flu.

  “I hope we all don’t get what she has,” Colby added.

  I glanced at Colby to see if he had any idea Katie was lying.

  “What?” he asked.

  “She’s not sick,” I said. “I mean, well, she is, but she’s hung over. We went to this party some kid at my school was having last night. And don’t say anything like, ‘You at a party?’ Okay?”

  “I wasn’t going to,” Colby said.

  I continued, “And Katie got really drunk.” I decided to leave out the part about Tom. I didn’t think Katie would want me telling Colby about that.

  “What about you?” Colby asked.

  “No, I don’t really drink. I mean I haven’t ever really. And don’t say something like, ‘That figures.’”

  “Jeez, so defensive,” Colby said. “So you’re not big on parties or dri
nking. That’s cool.”

  I put my sponge down. “Can I tell you something else?”

  “Of course,” Colby said.

  “Okay, I have this friend at school who has this boyfriend . . . .” I told Colby everything about Doug and how I’d given him the test because I didn’t want to lose Becca’s friendship. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the other half—how I’d also done it because I had liked being part of things. “And now I’m totally freaked someone’s going to find out that I gave him the test. I could get suspended or expelled. My dad would kill me.”

  It felt good to tell someone. I could have told Katie, but I knew she wouldn’t think what I’d done was a big deal. For some reason, I knew Colby would understand why it was a big deal.

  “I don’t think you’d get expelled over giving someone a test from last year,” Colby said.

  “Still, even if I just got detention. You don’t understand . . .” Dad had worked so hard for everything we had. Just the thought of how disappointed he’d be in me if he found out made me feel sick.

  I sat down on one of the tack trunks and shook my head. “I can’t believe I did something so stupid.”

  Colby sat down next to me and put his arm around me. “Hey,” he said softly.

  And that’s when Tara walked in. I jumped up, which of course made it look worse than it was.

  “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Tara said. She deposited another dirty bridle onto the rack, shot us a smug look, and then left.

  “I don’t know how you guys put up with her crap,” Colby said.

  “Do we have a choice?” I sighed. “Now the whole barn’s going to be talking.”

  “About what?” Colby said, and my heart sank. I had thought him putting his arm around me meant something, but obviously it hadn’t. I wanted to disappear, but I got up and started back in on the tack. Colby helped, and with two of us working, we finished in no time flat.

  “What’s up now?” Colby asked.

  “Heading home, I guess.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  I knew I shouldn’t let him because Dad might see us, but I didn’t want to say good-bye. I also desperately hoped that if we had more time together, something would happen between us. We walked close together on the dirt road. We talked about school and where Colby thought he might like to go to college. He said his father wanted him to come east and go to an Ivy League school, but he wanted to stay out west. Then we talked about the barn and Tara and the other outrageous things she’d said over the years.

  “Why did you pretend to be her the first day I met you?” Colby asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “She just . . . she’s got so much confidence in herself . . .”

  Colby reached out and grabbed my hand. Before I could say or do anything else, he had kissed me. Now this was certainly something. It was kind of good it happened so fast, because I didn’t have a chance to worry if I was doing it right. Because it was so fast I also didn’t really have a chance to analyze it, but the one thing I came away feeling was that it was much wetter and softer than I had expected.

  “Sorry, but I just had to do that,” Colby said when we had pulled apart.

  I smiled and wanted to tell him there was nothing to be sorry about. Then for some reason I remembered Katie and how she’d said she liked Colby. It was like I couldn’t let anything good happen without thinking of a way to ruin it. “What about Katie?” I asked.

  “What about her?”

  “She likes you. Isn’t that obvious?”

  Colby returned a smile. “And I like you. Isn’t that obvious?”

  I knew Katie said she liked Colby, but I wasn’t sure how serious she really was about him. How could she be so into him and still have thrown herself at Tom? She’d even admitted to Tracy that she was on the prowl. Still, I thought of her last night, sobbing uncontrollably. As much as I liked Colby, I didn’t want to hurt Katie.

  “She’s really fragile right now with not making the Maclay Finals and everything,” I told him.

  “You know what?” Colby said. “I think we should worry about you and me and not about all these other people.”

  “What I need to worry about is the Talent Search, the Medal, and the Maclay,” I said. “That’s all.”

  Colby stepped closer to me. “That’s all?”

  This time I kissed him back. We kissed for longer, and I had time to worry about my technique. I hoped I was an okay kisser. As far as I could tell, Colby seemed to think so.

  “Why do you even like me?” I asked when we’d started walking again. “I mean out of all the girls.”

  “Man, you really don’t believe in yourself, do you?” he answered, shaking his head. “You’re fun and you’re smart and you’re not like other girls. That’s why I like you. Oh yeah, and you’re completely gorgeous—there is that.”

  Now my face was burning. Even with my tan skin I was sure Colby could see how badly I was blushing. “Please,” I protested.

  “I’m serious. You’re totally hot.”

  This time I didn’t argue with him. For once I wouldn’t muddle up something good. We started walking again, closer together so our shoulders touched at times. I heard music playing before we came out of the woods. Outside the cottage Pablo, Camillo, and a bunch of the other grooms were gathered around the old hibachi, which was fuming black smoke. A radio sat on the picnic table next to a package of hamburger buns and paper plates. I didn’t see Dad, and his truck wasn’t parked in its usual spot by the cottage either.

  “I hope you like well-done,” Pablo said to Camillo as he poked at burgers on the grill.

  “I like mine blackened!” I called out to them.

  Pablo turned and called, “¡Hola, chiquita fina!”

  “See, someone else agrees with me,” Colby said.

  I probably should have told Colby he had to go home, but Dad wasn’t around, and when Pablo asked if we wanted to eat with them, I said yes.

  “Where’s my dad?” I asked as Pablo scooped one of the burgers off the grill and put it on a plate Camillo held out for him.

  “He had to run an errand.”

  He pointed his spatula to the table and asked me to hand him some more plates, but Colby beat me to it. “So, are you making moves on my woman here?” Pablo asked as Colby passed him a plate.

  “I think I might be,” Colby said, unsure whether Pablo was serious or not.

  “You better back off,” Pablo said. Colby just stared at him, and finally Pablo threw his spatula-free hand around Colby’s shoulders. “I’m just kidding, man!”

  Everyone laughed, and Pablo handed Colby a burger. We all sat down at the picnic table and talked and ate, and it didn’t seem weird at all with Colby there. He drowned his burger in so much ketchup and mustard that Pablo teased him, “It’s already dead, amigo, don’t insult it!”

  When we were finished, Pablo and Camillo arm-wrestled, and then Colby tried it and lost brutally. “You’re making me look bad in front of my woman here,” he said. “You gotta let me win one.”

  Pablo laughed and looked at me. “This one’s okay,” he said.

  We kept talking and joking as the sun fell behind the trees. I should have told Colby he had to go, but I was having too good a time just hanging out with them. I forgot all about Dad. That is, until he pulled up.

  “Uh-oh,” Colby said.

  “The boss don’t like you?” Pablo asked.

  “The boss doesn’t like me messing with his daughter,” Colby explained.

  Dad got out of the truck carrying a bag from Home Depot. He put the bag on the steps to the cottage and walked up to the table, looking serious.

  “We saved you a burger,” I tried.

  “Don’t you have homework to do?” he asked.

  I nodded, and both Colby and I stood up. Dad turned back to the cottage and Pablo mumbled, “Man, he doesn’t like you.”

  Before he headed back to the farm, Colby leaned close to me. I thought he might kiss me, which wou
ld have been way too much PDA too soon, but instead he whispered in my ear, “Meet me at the pool at midnight. Be there!”

  I didn’t get the chance to respond but could only watch as Colby jogged off to Pablo’s hoots and hollers.

  Back inside the cottage Dad said, “You can’t bring him here.”

  “We were just hanging out—just talking and having a burger with the guys. You said talking was okay.”

  “And I probably shouldn’t have. He’s a client. He shouldn’t be hanging out with the grooms, period.”

  “But I like him, Dad.”

  He sighed. “I just don’t want you making choices that might hurt you later on.”

  “Like not going to college.”

  “Yes, and like getting involved with one of the clients.”

  “Which would be so bad because?”

  “Because they live in a different world. We’re the grooms, Francie; you can’t ever lose sight of that.”

  “Dad, this isn’t nineteen-eighty.”

  “Some things haven’t changed.”

  But I was sure times had changed. Maybe even if what happened with Dad and my mother happened now, it would be different. Sometimes I found myself imagining a different version of my life, a life where they had stayed together and made it work. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help imagining us living in a small house somewhere near the farm and coming home from the barn to have all three of us sit at the dining room table for dinner. She would tell Dad how great a cook he was. Maybe I’d even have a younger brother or sister. But then I’d think about reality—about my half brother and half sister who didn’t even know I existed—and only feel angry and cheated.

  I asked Dad, “What are you so scared of? I wouldn’t make the same mistake you and she made.” She. I had never called my mother anything else. “I’m not you, and Colby’s not her,” I continued.

  It seemed crazy that Dad would think of me and Colby in that way—falling in love, having a baby, getting married. We were way too young for all that. But I reminded myself that Dad and my mother had been barely older than us. That seemed pretty hard to believe, too.