by Kate Lattey
I’d been on cloud nine on the way home, until Anders had crashed the car and I’d woken up in hospital. Harry had been in to visit me a bunch of times, and still came over regularly to catch up with Anders.
“He’s a nice boy,” Dad said, picking up his cream donut and licking his lips before giving me a quick glance. “At least, he seems to be.”
“Relax, Dad. He is,” I assured him. “I wouldn’t be going out with him otherwise.”
“Glad to hear it.” Dad cleared his throat, looking suddenly nervous. “But you know, even nice boys can make mistakes, or use bad judgement. If Harry ever puts you into a position you’re not comfortable with, you…”
“Woah,” I said quickly. “I know, Dad. I’ve got two big brothers, and I can take care of myself.”
Dad’s brow furrowed. “I know you think you can, but it’s easy for situations to get out of your control. I know you’ll stick up for yourself,” he continued, almost smiling at me. “But remember, just because he’s your boyfriend, doesn’t mean you have to do what he wants you to. Ever. And just because you did something once, doesn’t mean you have to do it again if you don’t want to.”
I blew on my pie, staring at the dusty dashboard in front of me. I wondered if he was as red as I was, but I was too embarrassed to look at him and find out. “Got it. Thanks.” Please let this conversation be over.
Dad lifted his donut to his mouth, and I felt myself relax. Then he lowered it again, and looked at me.
“You’d tell someone, wouldn’t you?” he asked. “If Harry did anything, er, like that. Forced you, or forced himself…”
Okay, this was getting way too close for comfort. “Oh my God, Dad. Are you going to start telling me about the birds and the bees next? Because trust me, I already know all about that.” I caught his startled expression and laughed. “Not like, from experience. But like I said. I’m sixteen. I have the internet. I do know how the world works.”
Dad conceded defeat. “Just as long as we’re clear.”
“Crystal clear,” I affirmed. “Don’t let him do anything I don’t want him to do, and if he does, tell someone. Who?” I asked curiously.
“Me. Your mother. Your brother,” Dad said immediately. “The police.”
Jesus. “Duly noted,” I said, hoping he would shut up now. I reached over and wound the truck window down, letting a light breeze into the cab. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”
Dad laughed. He looked as embarrassed as I felt, and I did appreciate that he’d made the effort to talk with me, even though it was all stuff I already knew, and had heard before – at school, in sex ed, and also from Anders, after he’d discovered that Harry and I were going out.
“Thanks,” I told him. “And don’t worry. Anders has it under control. He’s always hanging around when Harry comes over, keeping an eye on us. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was jealous.”
I’d expected Dad to laugh, but he didn’t. “How is Anders, d’you reckon?”
“Aside from grumpy as hell?”
Dad looked worried. “I have to admit, I’d expected him to bounce back better than he has.” He took a bite of his cream donut, and a small cloud of icing sugar puffed into his upper lip.
“He’ll be okay,” I said confidently. “He’s just being a big sook because he can’t play rugby for a while.”
Dad swallowed his mouthful. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
My father sighed. “I took him in for another scan last week, and the surgeon isn’t hopeful about his chances of a full recovery.”
I frowned. “What’s that mean?”
“Means he’ll probably never play rugby again.”
I looked at the pie in my hand and thought about how I would feel if my injuries had been so bad that I’d never be able to ride Squib again. It didn’t bear thinking about, and I felt sorry for my brother. He’d always lived for rugby, and had dreamed of being good enough to play for the All Blacks someday. Who knew, maybe he’d have made it. He was a naturally talented player with a good work ethic, and his good looks and charming personality didn’t hurt either. So much of his identity was wrapped up in his rugby aspirations, just as much of mine was wrapped up in my pony, and I wondered how he was going to adjust.
“Poor Anders.”
Dad ate the rest of his cream donut in silence, then dusted the icing sugar off his hands. “Well, guess we’d better get moving. I told Mrs Cooper that we’d come by and start putting in her new trellis this arvo.”
He started up the truck again as I balled up my empty pie bag and tossed it onto the seat next to me. My donut sat there, its cream filling seeping into the brown paper and turning it soggy. I wondered if I should save it and take it home for Anders, but the impulse was fleeting. The sun was pouring in through the windscreen, and it was only going to get hotter this afternoon. The donut wouldn’t be worth eating by the time it got to Anders, and it wasn’t like he’d want my pity anyway.
CHAPTER TWO
~ THE PRODIGAL SON ~
“Hello pony, highlight of my day,” I greeted Squib a few hours later, flinging my arms around his solid grey neck.
Dad had dropped me off at Katy’s on his way home. I was still sweaty and dirty in my jeans and boots, but daylight was running out and I wanted to see my pony. Squib searched my pockets for treats, looking put out when he realised that I didn’t have any.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but if you come for a ride I’ll give you a feed afterwards,” I tempted him.
Squib looked at me sideways, but let me grab a handful of his mane and lead him across the yard into one of Katy’s roomy looseboxes. He immediately went to check the feed bucket in the corner while I ferreted around in the tack room for some brushes, then got stuck in on his mud-encrusted out of his coat.
“You made it!”
I looked up as Katy rode into the yard on her flaxen chestnut pony and halted him outside Squib’s stable. Squib bustled over to say hi, and Lucas politely sniffed his nose, then snatched his head away as Squib stuck his tongue up the other pony’s nostril.
“You’re so weird,” I told my pony affectionately as Lucas cleared his nose, spraying me with snot. “Thanks Luke, that’s great.”
“Squib started it,” Katy grinned, jumping out of the saddle and leading Lucas into one of the empty boxes. “You going for a ride?”
“Yeah, just a short one. It gets dark so much earlier these days,” I complained, and Katy pulled a face.
“I know. I slept in this morning, and I still haven’t got all the ponies worked. Wait up for me and I’ll take Puppet out with you.”
“Okay.”
I slowed my pace and groomed Squib thoroughly while Katy untacked Lucas tack, washed him down and turned him out into his paddock before grabbing Puppet and dragging him into the stables.
“I notice you left his fly sheet on,” I pointed out as Katy whipped the pony’s light cotton rug off, revealing a clean glossy coat. “Meanwhile I’ve been grooming Squib for ages and the dirt’s still coming out of him.”
I punctuated my sentence with a couple of good slaps on Squib’s rounded hindquarters, glaring at the big puffs of dirt that flew up into the air as I did.
“Can’t take Puppet’s rug off, he’ll fade,” Katy said, grabbing a brush off the divider between us and running it swiftly over the young pony’s jet black coat. “Then he’ll turn an ugly brown colour and I’ll be too ashamed to take him anywhere.”
“Take him where?” I asked. “The season’s practically over.”
“Don’t remind me,” Katy threatened, shooting me a dark look. “I hate winter.”
“At least you get to escape a chunk of it,” I reminded her. “Did you get your flights booked for Ireland yet?”
She pulled a face. “Not yet.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Katy, you fly out in six weeks!”
“Yeah, no shit. If it was up to me, I’d have booked flights months ago. But Mum and Dad
are too busy fighting over who has to go with me to actually make a decision. At this rate I’ll be going alone, if at all. Maybe I should just give up and let Susannah take my place.”
I frowned as I picked up Squib’s bridle and lifted it towards his face. He tossed his head into the air and backed across the box, only stopping when his hindquarters bumped into the feed bin in the corner. The bucket in there rattled, and Squib swung his head around, apparently forgetting that he’d already licked it clean.
“You’ve got the memory of a goldfish,” I told him as I slipped his bridle on.
He put his ears back, but took the bit in his mouth and rolled it around on his tongue while I pulled his ears through the headstall.
“What d’you mean, fighting over who has to go with you?” I asked Katy. “I thought your mum would be the one going. Didn’t she book a house sitter and everything?” Katy’s mother Deb was as horse crazy as her daughter, and the possibility that she might not go with her to Ireland was inconceivable to me.
“Can’t really afford it,” Katy muttered. “And her work is being stupid about letting her take leave, plus we’re still in debt from all the repair work we had to do to the truck because my horse is a psycho and tried to smash her way out of it.” She shot a filthy look in the direction of the paddocks, where I could see her big warmblood mare Tori grazing under the trees. She looked peaceful from a distance, but she was a whirlwind in equine form and completely unpredictable. “That horse is a lunatic.”
“She’ll come right,” I told Katy. “You’ve only had her for a few months, remember. Give her time.”
“Four months and counting, and she’s getting worse, not better,” Katy grumbled. “Bucked me off twice last week, and Mum said I’m not allowed to ride her again until I get back from Ireland, in case I get hurt again.” She glanced down at her wrist, still in a cast after she’d taken a nasty fall at the Horse of the Year Show last month. “Not that I’m complaining. Tori’s not exactly a dream to ride.”
“It wasn’t her that broke your wrist,” I said in the horse’s defence as I led Squib out into the yard.
“No, that was Molly in one of her moods. Mares, eh? Who’d have one?” she asked Puppet. The young gelding appeared flummoxed by the question, rolling his eyes at her as he sidestepped away from her attempt to tighten his girth. “Oh stand up Puppet you muppet. Are you riding bareback?”
I nodded, leading Squib up to the mounting block and stepping onto it. “I came straight from work, and I didn’t have time to change into my jodhs.”
Katy rolled her eyes. “You can ride in jeans. The saddle is not going to die.”
I shook my head resolutely. “Not gonna risk it.”
Squib had packed on so much muscle lately that his own saddle didn’t fit him too well anymore, but our friend Susannah had generously loaned me one of hers, which fit Squib like a glove. It was a gorgeous imported Antares, a dream to ride in, and literally worth far more than I could afford to replace. I still held my breath every time I rode in it, and I wasn’t about to scuff it up with my dirty jeans.
“Besides,” I told Katy as I vaulted onto Squib’s broad back. “I could use a swim, and Squib hasn’t been down to the river in ages.”
“Okay. Good thing I’m coming with you then,” Katy decided as she led a fully tacked Puppet out of his box. “Because someone needs to be there to scrape you off the riverbed when Squibward decides to try and drown you.”
Squib didn’t do anything of the sort, of course. He was excited to be out, and threw in a few little bucks when we went for a canter along the riverbank, but other than that he behaved beautifully. And he was thrilled to get the chance to swim, bowling enthusiastically into the water and thoroughly splashing us both. Katy stuck to dry ground, sitting in Puppet’s saddle and tapping out messages on her cell phone while he grazed on a loose rein.
“Some lifeguard you are,” I told her as Squib finally ceased pawing the water and delved further into the swimming hole. “You’re not even watching.”
Katy glanced up at us as Squib charged into the deeper water. “I hope you don’t have your phone in your pocket,” she said wryly, watching as the water came up over the waistband of my jeans.”
I reached up and snapped my own bra strap. “Not to worry, it’s safely stored in the lady pocket.”
Katy pulled a face. “You need to stop saying ‘lady pocket’. It’s grossing me out.”
“Don’t be jealous,” I told her. “One day you’ll get to wear a bra too, and then you’ll have a lady pocket of your own.” Katy was only a few months younger than me, but she was super skinny and, in her own words, as flat as a pancake.
“Watch it,” she told me. “Or I’ll ride home and leave you here to drown.”
I started to tell her about the awkward conversation that I’d had with my dad that afternoon, but Squib found an unexpected hole in the riverbed and we dropped suddenly into even deeper water. I grabbed a fistful of my pony’s thick mane as he paddled us around in a circle, before reclaiming solid ground. I leaned forward and hugged his sodden neck. Swimming was about the most fun you could have on a pony – other than jumping, of course.
“You’re missing out,” I told my friend again, but she just shrugged. “The water’s great!”
“I know. I went for a swim this morning,” she said. “So actually you’re the one who’s late to the party.” But she pocketed her phone at last, and let Puppet walk down into the water for a drink. I urged my soaking wet pony up alongside them, and he shook like a dog, spraying Katy with cold water.
“Did you bring Molly down?” I asked her, but she shook her head.
“No, I came on foot.”
“Oh. That’s way less fun.”
Katy just shrugged again, a slight smile playing around her lips, and something clicked.
“Come down here on your own, did you?” The look on her face answered my question. “Ah. So how is Phil?”
“He’s good,” Katy said warily, giving me a sideways look.
She knew how I felt about her boyfriend, or her sort-of boyfriend, or whatever he was. She always got a bit cagey when I asked her if they were dating and wouldn’t give me a straight answer, which in itself rang alarm bells for me. Phil was the polar opposite of Harry – slender, surly, and far needier than I found attractive in a guy. Then again, Katy didn’t like Harry much either. His constant teasing set her on edge, and as I took Squib back into the water for another swim, I wondered how it was that we could be such close friends yet have such utterly different taste in guys.
There was one guy we both liked, but in entirely different ways, and for very different reasons. Anders stepped out of his bedroom as I squelched down the hall that evening in my sodden jeans with our big German Shepherd on my heels, and I had to sidestep fast to avoid smacking right into him. I missed my brother, but stepped on Dax’s paw, making him yelp pathetically and limp off down the hallway.
“I feel your pain, buddy,” Anders called after him, then looked at me. “Did you wet your pants, or have you finally turned bow-legged from all that riding?”
“Ha ha. I went swimming in my jeans. Not as comfortable as you might think,” I told him. “So much chafing.”
“Too much information,” he replied. “How was work with the old man? Kill many plants?”
“Not that I know of, and I didn’t hack up anyone’s prize camellias either,” I said, making a dig at one of his more memorable blunders when he’d been helping Dad in the past. “Are you gonna keep clogging up the hall or can you get out of my way so I can take a shower?”
Anders narrowed his eyes at me and made a small, sudden movement in my direction. A few months ago I’d have been fleeing down the hall in response to that, because it usually meant that he was about to tackle me to the floor and make me apologise for teasing him. But Dad’s words were still floating around in my head and I stood my ground. Anders’s brow creased and some of the spark went out of his eyes. He leaned back against the
doorframe of his bedroom and crossed his arms over his chest. I kept an eye on him, not sure whether he was going to trip or kick me on my way past, but he just stood still and watched me go.
I squelched on down the hall, knocking on Astrid’s door as I passed it, just to irritate her, then flinging open the door to the family bathroom.
“I’m in here!” Alexia screeched, and I rolled my eyes and pulled the door shut again.
“Lock the door next time Lex,” I told her.
“I can’t, it’s broken. Go away.”
“When did it break?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t me that broke it.”
“Are you gonna be long?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
“At least she’s honest,” Anders said, and I turned to see him still standing outside his bedroom, watching me.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me?”
Anders’s expression didn’t change. “Does it look like I’ve got anything else to do, Poss?”
“Some people have these things called hobbies,” I told him. “Maybe you should go find one that doesn’t involve annoying the crap out of everyone who is forced to live with you.”
Anders tilted his head to the side with a shadow of a grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”
We were halfway through dinner when Dax suddenly started barking. We all turned to look at him as he ran to the front door, letting out a solid stream of deafening barks.
“Dax, enough!” Dad shouted over him, and the dog quietened, then whined as we heard a car door shut outside. “Someone go see who that is.”
I dropped my fork and pressed my thumb to my forehead. “Bags not.”
Astrid and Lexi followed suit in unison, and we all looked triumphantly at Anders. He shook his head and mimed tossing a playing card into the middle of the table.
“Cripple card,” he said.
Dad signed and pushed his chair back, and I nudged Astrid with my elbow.
