by Ann Hunter
Alex rolled her eyes. And Brooke said she and Carol had relationship oddities. She looked at how close Carol was sitting to her and scooted away, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Laura tossed a popcorn at the back of Alex’s head.
“Turn it up.”
Alex pointed the clicker at the television and increased the volume. The TVG host went over statistics, and through interviews and such. All Alex wanted was the camera to finally pan over the saddling area so she could see Promenade.
The odds for the field scrolled on the screen, showing that her colt wasn’t exactly the favorite. When she finally saw him, he was still getting a lot of attention. His flashy, wild markings certainly made him stand out.
He stood at attention, ears pricked, looking with genuine curiosity at the spectators while Joe saddled him. Alex was surprised to see Dejado assisting the trainer, and not in silks. After all the trouble, Joe had only taken him along to assist. Alex bit her lip, wishing it was her instead.
It wasn’t fair she’d have to go back to school while Dejado had already graduated in his home country. Lucky bastard got out at sixteen.
Promenade craned his head and nibbled on the edge of Dejado’s pockets, but got playfully swatted away. The colt stretched his neck and yawned like all this hullabaloo bored him.
Finally the jockeys approached their mounts. Some guy named Enrique sidled up to Joe, who rattled off instructions to him, then boosted the jockey into the saddle. Enrique took it from there.
It all felt like a mistake. Alex held her breath, certain it should be her there with Joe and Promenade.
The track bugler blared his horn, beckoning the competitors to the track. Enrique and Promenade looked the picture of health and relaxation. The colt warmed up and loaded into the gate without a hitch.
Alex grabbed a fistful of popcorn, stuffing half of it into her mouth. She barely heard the announcer’s race call as she glued her eyes to the TV.
Promenade moved fluidly, settling well behind the leaders in the mile and sixteenth race. The three horses ahead of him battled it out for much of the race, with a few other pack members inching up on Promenade. When they turned for home, Enrique swung the colt out, and waved his whip. He popped him twice when there was no response. The crowd grew louder as the horses neared the finish line. Promenade turned his head to look at the grandstands, look at the camera even. Alex’s heart swelled and ached at the same time, willing him to get his head in the game.
The wire came and went. Promenade didn’t even hit the board.
Carol touched Alex’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“If I had been there, this wouldn’t have happened,” Alex said quietly.
“Don’t blame yourself.”
Alex glared at her. “I don’t.” She turned her attention back to the screen. “It’s his fault.”
What if Promenade lost because Dejado wasn’t taking care of him? What if he wasn’t doing something right? Something only Alex could do.
She felt a toe in her shoulder blade and looked over her shoulder to Laura.
“Did you ever stop to think he’s doing the best he can?” Laura asked. “And that maybe you’re not Promenade’s best chance.”
“Pop has Promenade’s interests at heart, too,” Brooke added. “He wants to see him succeed as much as you do.”
Carol slipped her arm under Alex’s, linking their elbows. “No more pointing fingers. You both need your best chance at success.”
Alex yanked away from her, getting to her feet and chucking the remote on the couch. “Whatever happened to you guys having my back?”
They all looked up at her.
“We still do,” Carol assured
Laura grinned. “Buuuut…”
“We’re also Team Dejado,” Brooke admitted.
“He’s brainwashed you, then.” Alex sneered, heading out of the room. She hollered from the stairs, “All of you.”
Brooke called back, “Maybe there’s more than mud on your goggles.”
TRACK STAR
Alex stared out the bus window mutely.
“Can you believe it?” Carol bubbled. “We’re officially high schoolers. Ninth grade!”
“Go directly to jail,” Alex mumbled. “Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”
Carol bumped into her shoulder. “Oh, c’mon. It will be great. We get to go to the dances, and oh, the dances.”
Alex half-heartedly chewed the nubs of her fingernails. “Boooooooring.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Oh, mistake me not. I am a barrel full of monkeys, my friend.” She rolled her eyes toward Carol. “Remember? I even climb like one.”
“A thousand and one tons of fun.”
“Did you just make a fat joke?”
Carol blushed, grinning impishly. “Sure did, beanpole.”
Alex stared at her, suddenly aware of how awkward it felt to have one’s body image surmised. She’d put a little lean muscle on, but was still fairly railish. She swore she’d never call Carol Marshmallow again, not even in jest.
Slowly, Alex began to applaud. “Apparently today is not just the first day of high school, but the first day I’m completely aware of my body image. Thanks a lot, pal.”
She’d never cared before, but now she felt self-conscious. It was creepy. Carol made her do weird things.
The bus breaks squeaked as the vehicle rolled to a halt in front of Hamlin High. Technically they’d been attending there for a year already, but now they were no longer considered middle schoolers. They were a grade above someone else, and apparently that mattered.
The driver opened the doors of the bus, and Alex trudged behind Carol to the front.
“What’s your first class?” Carol asked.
Alex reached for the side pocket of her backpack and pulled out the folded schedule. “Math with Mr. Sisson. Ugh. It’s too early to brain.”
“I had him last year. He’s not too bad. You’ll be fine.”
They made their way to their lockers. Alex was a little bummed they didn’t have as many classes together this year as they did last year, and their lockers were separated from eachother by the hall.
At least this way, Alex could keep an eye on Carol from across the way. Like a sentinel over the herd. It made her feel a little more at ease, but she still hated the large flow of people, and all the noise. It was a cacophony of friends catching up on what they did over the summer, who they hooked up with, or who they dumped, of barbeques and fireworks, and lame bosses at burger joints. All to the tune of the first period bell ringing, slamming lockers, and tennis shoes squeaking on freshly polished floors. To Alex, ninth grade stank of Pinesol and Teen Spirit.
Carol waved to Alex as the swarm thinned. “See you at lunch.”
Alex’s gaze followed her down the hall until she rounded the corner. That’s when she found a lean girl pinned against her locker by the one person Alex had almost forgotten existed— Brad Hopkins.
She wished she could throw a book at him, or spray him with a water bottle like some misbehaving animal, but she’d be late for class if she didn’t get moving. Alex couldn’t just let him torture her, could she?
Words flowed from her mouth before she could barely think them. “Hey, Brickhead.”
Brad looked at her, squinted like he was blind, and then a sick smile curled at the corner of his mouth. He popped the girl in the hip, like a cat paws a mouse, allowing her to escape. She scurried past Alex, their eyes meeting for only an instant, before she disappeared into a classroom.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite yappy dog,” Brad said. “Miss me?”
Alex clenched the strap of her backpack, glaring at him. He needed to know right off the bat that she wasn’t putting up with his tricks this year. “I spent the summer wielding pitchforks, and dealing with one ton monsters throwing tantrums. You will not be a problem this year.”
“Wanna bet?”
“I don’t gamble.” She turned without taking her eyes off him. “I win
or I learn.”
When she got into class, she was relieved that the teacher had his back to the students, and snuck into the last open seat as he finished scrawling equations on the white board.
Alex slipped her backpack under her chair and took out a pencil and notebook. The red numbers jumbled together on the board, turning upside down and backwards; a common frustration she struggled with in reading as well. They all looked like bizarre symbols, but she did her best, despite wishing they’d just sit still.
It wasn’t long before a paper, folded into a small triangle, dropped over her shoulder and onto her desk. She glanced back, wondering who sent it. Brad’s plaything was sitting behind her.
Alex scrutinized the paper, then unfolded it. A simple Thank you was written in the center. She folded it back up and tucked it into one of her backpack pockets.
A few moments later, another one dropped onto her desk. Alex huffed. It was hard enough to concentrate without someone trying to socialize. She unwrapped the triangle.
My name’s Katie.
Alex glanced up at the teacher who was still writing out this impossible equation. It might as well be the full length of Pi.
She scrawled A L E X and passed the note back.
Math was nearly over when the next note fell into her lap.
What’s your next class?
Alex rolled her eyes with wry smile. She hadn’t really studied her schedule when she got it the other day, so she didn’t know. She’d have to pull it out of her backpack again. She glanced at the clock, willing it to tick a little faster. When the bell finally rang, she turned in her seat and leveled her gaze on this Katie kid.
She had hazel eyes.
And long, dark lashes.
Her crooked smile demanded you smile back. Even if you didn’t want to.
“I’ve got track,” she said, her voice ringing with a song in it somewhere.
And Alex couldn’t help but think I love fast things.
FIFTEEN
“Your birthday’s coming up. Anything special you’d like?”
To see Promenade again, but she knew it wasn’t feasible. She’d have to miss school, and chores, and… well. Keeneland was more of a weekend trip than something they could just pop over and do. It wasn’t like she could just run out to the barn and spend the night.
She shrugged. “My jockey license.”
“You know you’ll have to wait for that.”
Alex sighed. Only one more year stood between her and riding fast horses to her heart’s content. If only they could throw her into some Argentinean bullring. Didn’t kids start jockeying at, like, nine years old there? She’d be a pro by now.
“Maybe just pizza, and I’ll sleep in Venus Nights’s stall.”
“You can have Carol over if you like. Or any other friends.”
“Sleepover!” Laura whooped. “We’ll talk about all your favorite things. Boys. Clothes. MTV.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Those are your favorite things.”
“Sorry. Let me rephrase. Colts, silks, TVG network.”
She stared at Laura, almost in awe that they were all kind of the same thing. Almost. Kinda.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Laura said. “I’m kind of a genius, remember?” She winked.
“Okay, genius.” Alex stuffed a strip of bacon into her mouth. “Tell me what I’m thinking.”
“I said I’m a genius. Not Houdini.”
“Houdini was an escape artist.”
Laura squinted at her, then turned her head to one side. “Speaking of escape artists; I know you try to escape from your feelings. You’re like the only person I know that does the opposite of what they’re feeling. You shrug like you don’t care, but you do. And you act like you don’t miss Promenade, which means… Oh my.” Her eyes widened. “You must be dying.” Laura turned in her chair. “Mom, Alex needs to go to Keeneland for her birthday.”
Alex paused mid chew, letting her mouth hang open with half-eaten bacon. She swallowed and pointed at Laura. “Send this girl to Harvard.”
“Is that what you really want?” Hillary asked, sipping her coffee.
Alex hunched down, picking at a scratch on the table. “I didn’t want to ask it.”
She glanced up to see Hillary and Cade exchange looks, then look back to her. “We’ll talk about it. Okay?”
October eighteenth dawned like any other day, only Alex woke up fifteen. When she made it downstairs, a duffel bag waited on the kitchen table with a note hanging from the strap: Get in the car.
Alex looked around like it was some sort of joke and the Showmans would jump out and yell surprise at any moment. But the house was dark and still, save for the light over the stove. Taking an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table, and a little faith, she shouldered the bag, grabbed her beat up shoes, and headed out the door.
The Showmans’ car was parked right out front, so she opened the back door and climbed in. Hillary and Laura both turned in the front seats with devilish grins, making Alex nearly jump out of her skin. She gripped the duffel bag and yelped.
Laura cackled. “You’re being kidnapped.”
The headlights came on, and the wheels spun against the gravel driveway, sending the car racing forward. Hillary and Laura both laughed like they were nuts.
Alex buckled her belt and clung to the door rest as Laura chucked pre-wrapped pastries at her. “Happy Breakfast, Birthday Goyle.”
Hillary dug through the middle console and tossed Alex’s ipod to her, along with a gift card for new songs. The device was already playing when Alex shoved an earbud into her ear, and she broke into a grin as the Beach Boys crooned “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”.
She felt kind of dorky with warm fuzzies swelling in her, cuz these two gals got her. Her desire to be older, and not have to wait so long for the next big thing. Alex let the song play, tipping her head back against the headrest and shutting her eyes to savor the moment.
“Next stop,” Hillary announced, “Lexington.”
The last time Alex had been to Keeneland was when she nearly lost Promenade in the annual yearling sale. As they rolled through the security gate to the barn North Oak stabled some of its string in for the meet, she couldn’t help but think of how different the place looked in the daylight than the night she stole a wild ride on the then yearling colt.
So much had changed in a year, and so much had not.
Alex got out of the car before the gravel had finished crunching beneath the tires. A thin veil of dust rose up to greet her. Even though it was the afternoon, there was plenty of activity going on around the backside. A lanky bay raised his head and pricked his ears at her as his groom led him past. Not far from their barn, a gray was having a good roll in the sandpit. Another bay was getting a bath a few stalls down.
Alex breathed it all in. Even though North Oak was hundreds of miles away, the backside still kind of felt like home. And then she sort of dug her toe into the dirt, trying to hide a grin as she realized she really thought of North Oak as home.
Hillary caught up to her, pushing sunglasses up onto her hair. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go see him.”
“Is Laura coming?”
“She decided to wait in the car and make sure your new songs finish downloading okay.”
Alex stuffed her hands into her back pockets and followed Hillary. Hoofbeats of a horse passing between barns matched her own strides. The sound of haybags rustling, horses munching contentedly, and their breaths made her more excited to see Promenade. She scritched a couple of curious noses that stretched to greet her as she passed.
Hillary rounded the corner of a barn and headed inside. It took Alex’s eyes a second to adjust to the difference in light. She let out a sharp whistle and was greeted with the reply of whinnies and whickers. Her eyes came into focus right on Promenade’s big white blaze.
He stretched his neck, peeling back his lip and inhaling, before tossing his head. She hurried over to him, tugging on his ear and circling her fing
ers against his dark neck. He bumped into her chest, before nipping her pocket. He knew where the good stuff was, and she loved that words never needed to pass between them.
She dug out the mints she’d been saving from the restaurant they stopped at for lunch, and Promenade gobbled them eagerly. Alex raked her fingers through his creamy forelock, smoothing it over his face. She breathed in his warm scent, mixed with the mint and liniment on his legs.
For a moment, the world faded away, and there was only horse and girl. Her sense of being lost together was broken only by the sensation of being watched. She raised her head and looked in the direction it came from.
Standing in the doorway was a lean young man, wiping his hands on a soft rag. His usually goofy smile was softer, but his eyes were locked on Alex.
Hillary squeezed Alex’s shoulder, and patted Promenade’s neck. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
She moved on, nodding to Dejado who nodded back. He tucked the rag into the back of his jean waistband and ambled forward, looking rather humble with his usually confident gaze cast downward. He stepped up to Alex and Promenade’s side, but didn’t say a word.
Alex wasn’t sure whether to be weirded out by his five minute silence, or grateful. She glanced his way, and it was obvious he was trying to figure out what to say or how to say it. He finally reached into his pocket and pulled out a pale, intricately woven horsehair bracelet, and offered it to her.
“This is from Promenade.”
Even in the shade of the barn, the rare threads of darker strands stood out against the white, and she knew at once its origins. How did he know it was her birthday?
She lifted her gaze to his, feeling a prickle on the back of her neck. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he’d made it just because. Alex took it from him and slid it onto her wrist, admiring it.
Dejado cleared his throat. “He wasn’t sure when he’d see you again. He wanted you to have it.”
Alex wrapped her arm around the bridge of Promenade’s nose and kissed him with a smile, but her eyes were all on Dejado. “I missed you,” she whispered.
