Ground Training

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Stephanie Lake!” Ms. Monroe interrupted sharply. “I will not have that sort of talk in my class! Do I make myself clear, or do you want to go and discuss it with Miss Fenton?”

  Veronica tossed her sleek, dark hair over her shoulder. “Thank you for your support, Ms. Monroe.” She turned and glared at Stevie icily before returning her attention to the teacher. “But you probably shouldn’t waste Miss Fen-ton’s time. It’s not as though I care what someone like her thinks of me.” She tilted her head dismissively in Stevie’s general direction.

  Ms. Monroe looked uncertain how to respond to that. Finally she shrugged and clapped her hands briskly. “Just watch yourself, Lake. All right, people,” she barked. “Back in position. Move!”

  Callie saw Stevie shooting her a concerned glance, but she didn’t meet her eye. She knew that Stevie meant well, but she couldn’t help feeling embarrassed and a little resentful. She wasn’t used to needing other people to defend her—she could handle a jerk like Veronica, bum leg or no. And it irked her that anyone might think otherwise.

  She glanced at her crutches. I’ve got to lose these stupid things before we leave for Valley Vista this weekend, she thought with determination. No matter what it takes!

  Carole was surprised to find the library already crowded when she arrived there soon after the final bell. Students were seated at most of the blond-wood-and-steel tables that dotted the spacious reading area in the central atrium, and others were searching for books in the rows of stacks surrounding the atrium. Carole blinked. Wow, she thought. So this is what other people do after school.

  She sighed, wishing she were on her way to Pine Hollow as usual instead of standing in the library entrance facing a dull afternoon of studying. Even hosing down the manure pit or helping the beginning riders find their boots in their messy cubbyholes would be a treat compared to what she had to do. Hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulder, she wandered past the librarians’ desk and through the atrium, looking for a seat. Halfway to the back of the room, she spotted a free space.

  Joy Harper, a girl Carole knew slightly from a few of her classes, was sitting across from the empty spot, her books, jacket, and papers spilling across the table. “Is this seat taken?” Carole asked her.

  Joy glanced up from her math book and shook her head, pushing back her thick dark bangs. “Nope. It’s all yours.” She leaned forward and scooped her things toward her, making room for Carole.

  “Thanks.” Carole set her backpack on the table and pulled out the chair. Collapsing into it, she just sat there for a moment, wondering where to start. She had combed her textbook the evening before, hoping for inspiration. But she had been too distracted by the mere act of surviving her first day without Pine Hollow to come up with anything decent. She regretted the wasted time now, though, knowing that she had to find a topic for her research paper by the next day, or Ms. Shepard just might rethink her decision not to flunk her.

  How did I get myself into this mess, anyway? Carole thought miserably, unzipping her backpack and pulling out her American history book. She grimaced as a little voice in her head piped up with the answer: You did something really stupid, that’s how.

  At least she could stop worrying about being suspended, thanks to Dr. Durbin’s volunteer group. Colonel Hanson had been gung ho about the vice principal’s proposal. He had quickly given his permission for Carole to attend Wednesday’s meeting and to put in as many hours as she liked with the group as long as she kept up with her homework.

  She opened her textbook, blinking at the table of contents. Flipping to a likely chapter, she settled down to read. But she was only a few sentences in when her attention started to wander. She found herself wondering whether she’d remembered to replace the antiseptic she’d borrowed the week before from the stable first-aid kit. That reminded her that she hadn’t looked in on Congo after the horse show to make sure that the small scrape on his hock was healing properly. Then there was Peso, one of the ponies—had she remembered to tell Max about that funny bump on his hoof?

  It wasn’t easy to push those sorts of questions out of her mind, but Carole did her best, reminding herself that Max was more than capable of running the stable without her. After all, he’d done it for years before she’d ever heard of the place.…

  Carole started the history chapter again, blinking hard several times and doing her best to focus on the words in front of her. But once again, it wasn’t long before the description of nineteenth century immigration practices faded, to be replaced by images of Samson languishing in his stall with no one to exercise him properly, and of Red and Denise and the others rushing around with extra work to finish, thanks to her absence.

  This wasn’t going to be easy. How am I supposed to concentrate on this stuff? Carole wondered helplessly. How am I supposed to figure out whether I’d rather write about immigration or Prohibition or the early days of suffrage when all I can think about is everything I’m missing right this minute at Pine Hollow?

  She sighed and rubbed her eyes, hoping she could rub away the images that kept dancing through her mind. Samson tossing his head and gazing at her with his fiery dark eyes. Starlight trotting around the schooling ring with Rachel in his saddle. Max looking at her with disappointment and surprise in his blue eyes as she told him what she’d done. And Ben…

  When she looked up again, Carole noticed that Adam Levine had just entered the library and was heading toward her table. Back in junior high Adam had taken lessons at Pine Hollow for a while. He had long since dropped riding in favor of working on his junked-out old Mustang, but his appearance still reminded Carole of old times—like the way Adam always tilted his toes out a little too much when he cantered around the ring on Barq or Rusty or Tecumseh, or the way Max used to yell at Betsy Cavanaugh for flirting with Adam during riding class, or the fun times they’d all had together, the whole class, at gymkhanas and schooling shows and the yearly overnight summer trail ride…

  Lost in the past, Carole smiled uncertainly at Adam as he loped toward her table. For one crazy moment, she was sure he was there to talk to her about riding—maybe get her opinion on a new pair of boots or ask if she would help him with his lead changes.…

  Then she blushed as she remembered that Adam was dating Joy, who was still sitting right across from her. Carole generally didn’t pay much attention to the shifting romantic lives of her classmates, but Adam and Joy were both in her English class, and Carole had seen them often enough passing notes and blowing kisses when the teacher’s back was turned. Now, as she watched, Adam crept toward Joy, whose back was toward him. Catching Carole looking at him, Adam grinned and winked at her, putting one finger to his lips in a gesture of silence.

  When he was just inches away, he leaped forward, clapping his hands over Joy’s eyes. “Surprise!” he whispered.

  Joy squealed, bringing glances from most of the students in the atrium and a stern look from the nearest librarian. But she ignored them all, grabbing Adam’s hands and spinning to face him. “You monster!” she exclaimed fondly. “You scared the spit out of me!”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Adam replied with a grin. “Don’t hold it against me, okay?”

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” Joy said, batting her eyelashes playfully. “How could I possibly stay mad at someone so cute?”

  Adam’s grin broadened. “I don’t know,” he said. “How could you?”

  Carole averted her eyes as the couple laughed together and then shared an affectionate kiss, seemingly unaware that they had an audience. Carole knew how they felt, at least sort of. When Ben had kissed her the other day, she had ceased to be aware of anything else—even her pain at losing Samson, her job, and just about everything else had receded as she had lost herself in the feeling of being so close to him, of finally feeling as though they might begin to understand each other completely.

  I wish I’d found a minute to tell Stevie and Lisa about that, Carole thought, feeling her cheeks grow hot as she remembered t
hat kiss. I could use their advice. Maybe they could tell me how I’m supposed to face Ben if and when I’m ever allowed back to Pine Hollow.

  Carole sometimes felt a bit awkward about being the only one of their trio who had never had a serious boyfriend. The closest she had ever come was way back in junior high, when she’d gone out for a while with a guy from a nearby town named Cam Nelson. But Cam’s family had moved away before that could turn into anything serious, and somehow Carole hadn’t been interested in anyone since then.

  Then Ben had come along. Carole still wasn’t sure what she was expecting to happen after their kiss. But it wasn’t to have him look straight through her as if he wished they’d never met. It definitely wasn’t that at all.

  Glancing down at her textbook, Carole realized that it was hopeless to try to come up with a topic right then. She was in no state to concentrate on schoolwork. Not when she was feeling so sad and hopeless and distracted and, worst of all, alone. She couldn’t talk to her father about her feelings—not when he was still so angry with her. She wasn’t allowed to use the phone, send e-mail, or leave the house without permission, so that left out her friends. Even her usual source of comfort and solace in times of trouble, Pine Hollow, was forbidden to her. All she had was herself.

  Leaving her backpack on the table, she stood up quickly and headed into the stacks, needing to be alone before she totally lost it. She checked each aisle, but the library was more crowded than before, and people stood in almost every one. Heading farther toward the back, Carole felt a sharp stab of recognition as she stumbled across the section that held the library’s small collection of horse-related materials. Once upon a time she had spent many hours there, though by now she’d all but memorized every book on the shelf. Remembering the way she’d once looked up information on foxhunting and researched flying lead changes when Starlight was having trouble with them made her heart ache all the more. As she turned away from the painfully familiar titles on the shelves, she felt tears stinging her eyes.

  Finally, near the rear of the library, she found a deserted aisle. There was nothing on the tall, narrow metal shelves back there but a few boxes of old magazines and some stray books waiting to be shelved, so she wasn’t likely to be interrupted anytime soon.

  Sinking to the carpeted floor, she dropped her face onto her arms and let the tears come.

  In Mary Shelley’s great novel Frankenstein, the character of the monster is distinct in his solitude from all humanity, Lisa typed. He was created from Man and by Man, yet he stands apart from those around him, including his creator. He is all alone.

  She sat back and gazed at the computer screen, rereading the sentences. Then she sighed.

  Just like me, she typed. All alone without Prancer.

  She scowled and hit the Delete button to erase the last part of what she’d written. It wouldn’t do any good to sit there and feel sorry for herself. That wouldn’t bring Prancer back, and it certainly wouldn’t help her pass her advanced senior lit class.

  With a frustrated groan, Lisa picked up her paperback copy of Frankenstein and leafed through it, trying to find her train of thought. But other thoughts kept intruding. Sad thoughts of Prancer. The unpleasant memory of Rafe walking into her kitchen yesterday as if he owned it. Of Mrs. Atwood’s latest lecture about what she’d referred to as “this whole college fiasco,” delivered over breakfast that morning.

  The phone rang, and Lisa jumped up and hurried out into the hall to answer it, relieved at the interruption. “Hello?” she said.

  “Lisa? Hey, it’s me,” Alex’s familiar voice came over the line. “What’s up?”

  Lisa smiled and felt herself relax just a bit. “Nothing much.” She leaned against the hall’s muted floral wallpaper and switched the phone to her other ear. “Mom’s at work, so I was taking advantage of the peace and quiet by doing some homework. What about you? Aren’t you supposed to be grounded?” She didn’t want to be a nag, but she really hoped he wasn’t breaking his punishment to call her. If he was, his parents might take back their permission for the next afternoon’s date. And if Lisa didn’t have that to look forward to, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

  “I can only talk for a second,” Alex admitted. “I told Mom I needed to call you to confirm our plans for tomorrow. So are we still on?”

  “No doubt about it,” Lisa replied quickly. “Where should we meet?”

  “I’ll walk over when I get home from school,” Alex replied. “Stevie needs the car tomorrow, so I was hoping you could drive.”

  “No problem. So are you sure you don’t mind going to that exhibit? I know modern sculpture isn’t really your thing.”

  “Ah, but zat eez where you are wrong, mademoiselle,” Alex retorted in his best imitation of a snooty French accent. “I am ze expert on all ze finest of ze fine arz.”

  Lisa giggled. Alex had always been a lot more interested in Michael Jordan than Monet, and they both knew it. Normally she had to drag him, kicking and screaming, to any event that he suspected might be the least bit cultural. She was sure that Prancer had something to do with his new attitude, though the fact that they hadn’t been on a real date in ages probably had an impact, too. She knew exactly how he felt on that point. If he’d been dying to go to some kind of bloody kick boxing match on Wednesday afternoon, she would have gladly gone along with the plan just for the chance to spend time with him.

  “Okay, then,” she said. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to back out. What time do you have to be home? Maybe we could get something to eat afterward.”

  “Definitely,” Alex agreed. “I don’t have to be home until six-thirty or so. Plus I was hoping you’d help me pick out a new pair of basketball sneakers. The season starts soon, you know, and the coach practically promised I’d make varsity this year, so I want to be ready.”

  “Okay.” Lisa smiled as she remembered watching some of Alex’s JV basketball games the previous winter. He looked awfully cute in Fen-ton Hall’s crimson-and-gold uniform. “It’s a date.”

  “Spiffy,” Alex said. “Okay, then, I’d better cruise. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

  “Me too. See you then.” Lisa hung up the phone and wandered back into her room. She had just taken her seat in front of the computer when the phone rang again. With a fond smile, she hurried out to pick it up. “What did you forget?” she asked teasingly.

  “Lisa?” A voice came through the line, deeper and more mature than Alex’s reedy tenor.

  “Oops. Um, hi, Dad,” Lisa said. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

  “Hmm,” Mr. Atwood said. “Well, I’m just calling to confirm the schedule for this weekend. Don’t forget, you have to be at the airport a little early on Saturday to pick up your boarding pass.”

  “I know,” Lisa replied, rubbing a smudge of dirt off the phone cradle. “Mom already switched her schedule so she can drive me.”

  “Er, yes.” Her father sounded a little uncomfortable, as he usually did when the subject of his ex-wife cropped up in conversation. “All right, then, Evelyn and I will pick you up on this end. Maybe we can swing past USC on our way home.”

  “Dad…,” Lisa began helplessly. Her father had made it perfectly clear in previous phone conversations that he disapproved of her plan to go to NVU as thoroughly as Lisa’s mother did.

  “Don’t’Dad’ me, Lisa,” he said. “This is a very important life decision of yours that we’re talking about. I want to make sure you understand what you’re doing before it’s too late. It won’t do you any harm to check out some of your other options more carefully.”

  Lisa wanted to argue that she’d already made up her mind and any further discussion was a big waste of time, but she didn’t have the energy. “Fine,” she said instead. “I hear they have some cool coffee shops near there. At least I’ll be able to fight jet lag.”

  “Lisa,” Mr. Atwood began sternly. “This really isn’t—”

  “Kidding, Dad,” Lisa interrupted hastil
y. “I’m just kidding.”

  “All right.” He didn’t sound convinced. “But we’re going to have a good long talk about this decision when you get here—and I’m not kidding about that. Do you hear me?”

  “Uh-huh.” Lisa grimaced, feeling her stomach twist into a familiar knot of anxiety. Why couldn’t her parents just accept that she’d made this decision on her own? She would be eighteen in a few short months—a legal adult. It was about time she took control of her own life. “Listen, I need to get back to my homework,” she told her father. “I’ll see you on Saturday, okay?”

  Mr. Atwood said good-bye, and Lisa hung up the phone with a sigh, wondering if spending the next week in California listening to her father lecture her about college would be more or less pleasant than spending it in Willow Creek watching her mother and Rafe carry on and thinking about how much she missed Prancer. It was pretty much a toss-up, which depressed her more than ever.

  At least I have one thing to look forward to, she told herself, thinking of the next day’s date. If I didn’t have Alex right now, I don’t know what I’d do.

  SEVEN

  “Carole!” a voice called breathlessly. “Carole, wait up! I just heard the news.”

  Carole paused on her way through the school’s glass double doors. She was on her way to the student parking lot to pick up her car, and she was in a hurry—Dr. Durbin was waiting for her in the teachers’ parking lot so that Carole could follow her to the Hometown Hope meeting. Glancing around impatiently, Carole saw Polly Giacomin hurrying to catch up. Polly was a senior at Willow Creek High School and the owner of a spunky brown gelding named Romeo that had been a boarder at Pine Hollow for the past several years. Despite that, Carole had never felt particularly close to Polly. Polly always seemed to be speaking a slightly different language—one that sounded the same as Carole’s but didn’t quite connect in her head.

  “Hi,” Carole greeted her tentatively. Carole and Polly never had much to say to each other except when discussing their horses’ latest antics, and at the moment Carole wasn’t exactly in the mood for a nice chat about Romeo’s progress in dressage.