by Jessie Haas
That was the big one. “Do you think Mimi could come up with me?” I asked. “Because she’s the one I’d really like to have.”
Mom looked thoughtful. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “Why don’t you ask Mimi herself? She’ll probably want to check with her doctor, but I think her leg has healed very well, and she couldn’t have a better pilot!”
“No, Dad’s the best,” I agreed.
Mom kissed the top of my head. “I’m glad you’re staying here tonight. As you know”—she sighed—“your dad and I will be up very early and out at the park for Mass Ascension. Call me on my cell when you both get up.”
After Mom and Dad left, Mimi turned to me. “Ready for bed?” she asked. “I’m exhausted.” But her eyes sparkled when she added, “I’m setting the alarm for five o’clock. We’ll get up and watch Dawn Patrol!”
Dawn Patrol is much earlier than the Mass Ascension. Mom would say it was crazy to get up for it, and not just because she hates early mornings. Mom would think that Mimi should be resting and healing instead. But I thought it was a great idea!
I wasn’t quite as thrilled when the alarm clock rang the next morning. But I’m a balloonist’s daughter. I put my clothes on over my pajamas and threw on my jacket. It really helps to be warm if you’re up early.
Then I helped Mimi find warm things to wear. It took some digging. Back in August, when she fell, we were all wearing warm-weather clothes. But I found her a sweater and made cups of tea. We went out onto the shadowy porch, settled into our chairs, and looked out across the dark horse pasture. The sky was a deep, brilliant blue, a magical color. I checked the time on my cell phone. No point calling Mom and Dad yet. It was 5:35. They’d be very busy.
We waited, sipping our tea. Picasso, pearl-white in the dawn light just as in my painting, came to the water tub for a drink, followed by the rest of the herd.
“Hello, horses,” Mimi said quietly.
Picasso lifted his head sharply and looked toward the porch. Then he nickered. Behind him, Frida nickered, too. “Now that’s a surprise!” Mimi said. “Frida, I didn’t know you cared.”
Georgia was hard to see in the half-darkness—just a shadowy shape, as if she was already a memory. I felt panic rising in my chest, but then I remembered my painting of her in Mimi’s studio. If I could finish that painting before Mimi sold Georgia, I would never forget my beautiful horse. I’d have to hurry.
“Look!” said Mimi, interrupting my thoughts. To the east, a glowing orange teardrop rose above the horizon. Another followed, a red and black checkerboard. Then came a third, and that was Dad. I could see the spiral swirl of colors that Mimi had designed for his balloon.
“Beautiful!” Mimi breathed.
We sat right there on the porch through Dawn Patrol, and then the Mass Ascension. We watched balloon after balloon come up, as if a giant beyond the horizon were blowing soap bubbles. After a few minutes, Mimi reached over and took my left hand in her right. Her grip was weaker than it used to be, from being in the cast, but it was strong enough. Plenty strong enough.
It was the beginning of a perfect Balloon Fiesta—or Saige Fiesta, as we like to call it—and a perfect birthday week. Mimi loved the idea of going up in the balloon with me. “I’ve been cooped up for so long,” she said. “Getting up into the sky is exactly what I need! I’ll just have to clear it with my doctor.”
And I’ll have to clear it with Tessa, I thought.
Monday morning before school started, I asked my three friends to my party. Dylan looked surprised and pleased, Gabi just looked pleased, and Tessa looked as if she had a question she wanted to ask me. I knew what it was, and I answered it, trying to be as bold as Georgia and Dylan. “I’m asking Mimi to go on my balloon ride this year,” I announced.
Now Tessa looked pleased. “Awesome!” she said. “I wondered what you were going to do.” I saw her glance awkwardly at Gabi, and I knew what she was thinking. She was probably disappointed about not going up in the balloon, but relieved that I hadn’t asked Gabi instead of her. A lot had changed between Tessa and me lately, but our friendship was still strong. I smiled our special cat smile at her, and she smiled back.
All week long I went back and forth between the ranchita and Balloon Fiesta Park, getting huge doses of balloon color and festivity, and huge doses of Mimi.
And painting. Mimi couldn’t sit long at her easel—it made her bones ache. But she’d get up, roam, rub her wrist, and come back to the Sandia horses while I worked on my painting of Georgia.
“You’ve really gotten to know her,” Mimi said one afternoon, looking over my shoulder. “You’ve caught that bold, independent spirit of hers—just like Georgia O’Keeffe’s. And like yours, Saige. You have a bold spirit, too.”
Do I? I wondered. I’d never thought of myself as bold—bold like Georgia, or like Dylan.
Mimi caught my hesitation. “Think of all you’ve accomplished in the last couple of months, Saige,” she said.
I thought of the arts fund-raiser—leading the parade on Picasso and doing the Professor Picasso act with Gabi. I thought of organizing Day of Beige and of speaking at the press conference. And I thought of Mrs. Laird’s announcement just this morning that the after-school arts program would start in only two weeks. Two weeks!
Maybe I was bold. Maybe Georgia had rubbed off on me. Maybe while I was training her, she had trained me a little bit, too.
If I was so bold, then I should ask Mimi the question that had lurked beneath everything this past week, the question I’d hardly dared think about. “That lady who wanted to buy a Spanish Barb,” I finally blurted. I’d never mentioned her to Mimi, but I was sure Luis had. “Did you ever get in touch with her?” I asked, holding my breath.
Mimi shook her head. “I need time to settle in and get my feet back under me before I think about that,” she said.
So there was still time. I exhaled and put a few finishing touches on Georgia’s ears. The painting really did capture her spirit—and somehow, despite armor and a beard, the conquistador still looked a little like me. Georgia might never be mine, but at least in this painting, we’d always be together.
We held my birthday party at the Night Magic Glow, on the last weekend of Fiesta. As dusk settled in, Dad and a couple of hundred other balloonists inflated their envelopes and burned their jets. The balloons inflated against the deep-blue sky, the color of jewels—or the color jewels should be. I find gemstones kind of disappointing compared to a balloon Glow.
Mom set up lawn chairs and card tables in front of Dad’s balloon. We gathered there with Mimi, Gabi, Tessa, Dylan, and even Luis and Carmen, who’d closed their booth an hour early to join my party.
I got a big notepad and a pen. “I’m ready to take your dinner orders,” I announced with a grin. Balloon Fiesta is famous for its food booths, and there were a lot of them nearby.
We took everyone’s orders and fanned out to the booths. Then we gathered again with pizza, green chile cheeseburgers, and so much more. Tessa and I have always loved turkey crepes, but I’d never tried spanakopita, a pastry filled with spinach and cheese. That was Gabi’s favorite, and it was amazing. After one bite, I said, “Oh, Gabi, I’m so glad we’re friends!”
Dylan’s favorite was chocolate-dipped bacon. I didn’t like that at first bite. I took a second nibble just to make sure. Hmm…and a third bite. “Wait, I do like it!” I said, surprised.
Dylan smiled across the card table at me, and I smiled back at her. We didn’t need to say it out loud. I hadn’t liked Dylan at first, either, but now we were friends, too.
Then it was time for presents. Gabi gave me a clicker that I could wear on my wrist—it hung on a curly plastic bracelet. “For when you’re riding,” she said. “You can use it to train Georgia.”
The birthday feeling sank for a moment, like the balloon when Dad turns the jets down. I wouldn’t be training Georgia. That bike woman probably would. But I thanked Gabi all the same. M
aybe I could use the clicker to help her train her new dog one day soon.
Dylan gave me a pair of earrings, my favorite shade of blue. How did she know? “Thank you!” I said with a smile.
I reached for Tessa’s present next. It was small, too—definitely another piece of jewelry. I tore off the paper and opened the box.
“Oh, Tessa!” I exclaimed. It was the turquoise spoon ring that she’d made in class with Luis.
“It’s to keep you safe out riding,” Tessa said.
Another riding present led to another moment of sadness, but I swallowed it down. There were too many things to be thankful for today to waste any time feeling blue. “Thank you, Tessa,” I said, giving her our special cat smile. I tucked the ring carefully back into the box.
Mimi said, “You’re going to have to wait for my present.”
That made sense. She hadn’t been out shopping yet. “Having you home is my present,” I told her.
Mimi flashed me a smile. “Oh, no, it’s not!” she said. “I have something a lot better than that in store for you.” She looked so pleased with herself that I got that birthday morning feeling all over again. What could Mimi’s gift be? When would I get it? Tomorrow, maybe, before we went up in the balloon? Mimi’s doctor had given her the clear for that. I couldn’t wait!
But now it was time for cake. Mom had baked a sheet cake, and Carmen had decorated it with frosting hot-air balloons. I blew out my candles—all ten of them—in one fast puff, and then cut slices of cake for my friends. We sat there eating and looking out at the huge glowing balloons around us, tethered to the earth but still reaching toward the sky.
At eight o’clock the Glow ended. While Dad and the other balloonists were deflating and packing up their envelopes, the rest of us watched the fireworks. “Who else gets fireworks on her birthday?” Tessa said. “Happy birthday, Saige!”
The next day, Mom, Dad, Mimi, and I were back at Balloon Fiesta Park at the crack of dawn—before dawn, even. Dad was going up for the last Dawn Patrol, and Mimi and I would go with him.
Mom and I helped Dad prep and inflate the balloon while Mimi watched. She wore a leather jacket, cowboy chaps, and her heavy leather gauntlets that come halfway up to her elbows. “They’ll keep the chill out,” she said, “and if we have a little bump, they’ll hold me together.”
Mimi held a rectangular package under her arm, wrapped in the Sunday comics, Mimi’s favorite gift wrap. She couldn’t have gone shopping between last night and this morning. So what could the gift be? I’d find out soon enough.
We got into the basket, and Mimi settled herself in the one small chair. We watched as other balloons rose into the sky. Five minutes later, when Dad received his cue to launch, he tweaked the burners expertly and Mom untethered us.
We gently lifted off. First came the little tug as the envelope took the full weight of the basket and us. Then came the lightness, the rush as we rose, swiftly and smoothly, into the dark-blue sky. There were more balloons around us. As we rose, Dad and the other pilots phoned back to the ground, reporting that there were no dangerous crosswinds—just a perfect Albuquerque Box. The lower-level winds were blowing north, and the ones higher up were blowing south, which meant the pilots could easily control where they went.
Soon we were high above the trees, above the radio towers. Dad completed his last transmission as we began to drift north and a little west—and then a little more west.
“At this rate we’ll be over your house soon, Ma,” said Dad.
I looked down. On the road below, I thought I saw our pickup truck. Mom was following us, probably rubbing sleep from her eyes. Up ahead the roofs looked familiar. There was Luis and Carmen’s little house, and then Mimi’s house and barn, and the giant cottonwoods, and the horse pasture.
The horses were out grazing. They looked up at us and then went back to eating, all except Georgia. She tossed her head playfully and galloped after the balloon’s dark shadow, striking at it with her front feet. Brave Georgia. Beautiful Georgia. My heart swelled, looking at her.
Mimi said, “There couldn’t be a better time than this, Saige.” She handed me my present. I could feel a frame beneath the wrapping, so it must be a picture. The Sandia horses had still been on Mimi’s easel yesterday, and the paint hadn’t had time to dry, so it wasn’t that.
I started to tear the paper, still watching Georgia. She was showing off, circling the pasture with her black tail high, streaming out behind her. If that bike lady could only see her now…
I pushed that thought away, crumpled the paper into a ball, and stuffed it into my backpack, safely away from the jets. I was looking at the back side of one of Luis’s beautiful tinwork frames. That was a present in itself.
I turned it over, and it wasn’t a picture at all. It was an official-looking document with a gold seal. Georgia’s name was on it, and the words Spanish Barb Register. Why was Mimi giving me this?
“This is the line you want to look at,” Mimi said, pointing.
I read, Owner: Saige Copeland.
“But you’re selling her!” My voice squeaked. “You said you were selling her!”
Mimi smiled. “No, I said she needed a new owner,” she corrected me. “An owner who could give her the attention she deserves. Now she’s got one!”
“But…” I said. “Shouldn’t you sell her? I mean, to spread the word about Spanish Barbs?”
“You’ll do that,” Mimi said. “Take her out in the world. Show her off. Don’t hesitate to mention who bred her—I still have other horses for sale! And someday you can breed her, maybe, and raise her foals.”
I stared at Mimi, and then back at Georgia, already tiny in the distance. Georgia was mine?
Yes. It said so on this framed certificate with the gold seal.
“Wow,” I said. “I mean—thank you! I mean—”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Mimi said, smiling. Our eyes met, and I knew. She always did know what I meant, and she always would.
“Go back, Dad!” I said. “Can you go back? I need to look at my horse!”
Dad pulled the cord to release some hot air from the balloon. We slowly descended to catch the north wind—and fly back to Georgia.
Jessie Haas grew up loving horses, drawing horses, riding horses, and reading every horse book she could find—so it’s no wonder that when she began writing, most of her 36 books turned out to be about horses. She’s written picture books, easy readers, historical novels, poetry, and nonfiction.
Jessie has always trained her own horses, a job made easier and more fun when she discovered clicker training. She also loves to knit, cook, and read.
Jessie lives in a solar-powered cabin next door to the Vermont farm she grew up on. She shares her home with her husband, Michael J. Daley (also a children’s book author), two cats, a dog, and an adventurous hen. Her brave and opinionated Morgan horse, Robin, lives on the family farm, along with a small herd of Irish Dexters, a rare breed of cattle.
Learn more about Jessie at www.jessiehaas.com.
Special thanks to Beth Larsen, Executive Director of Art in the School, Albuquerque, NM, and Randy Cohen, Vice President of Research and Policy, Americans for the Arts.
Letter from American Girl
Dear Readers,
Saige and her friends discover that when they combine their creative talents, they can truly make a difference at school and in their community.
Here are the stories of four real girls who used their talents for painting and jewelry making to make a difference in their communities. Read their stories, and then learn how YOU can tap into your creativity to help others, too.
Your friends at American Girl
Real Girls, Real Stories
Helper of Birds
Olivia B. cried when she heard about an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico and how it hurt birds such as terns and brown pelicans. “To me, birds are like angels,” she says. “I couldn’t let this happen, so I took action.”
The New York 11-year-old wrote a letter to a national bird conservation group. She offered to draw portraits of birds that could be sold to raise money for bird rescue and rebuilding wetlands. The organization liked her idea, and over the next three months, Olivia created 500 original bird drawings. Her efforts raised more than $180,000, which was used for coastal cleanup and bird-habitat restoration.
“This is our planet,” says Olivia. “We have to make it work for ourselves and for the animals. We can’t move to Mars—and they can’t, either.”
Charms for Charity
Kyra H. knows a lot about helping others—even how to help by shopping! “In the grocery store, my mom showed me how buying cookies made by a particular company helps people because the company donates money to charity,” the California girl says.
So Kyra, age 10, decided to raise money that way, too. She sculpted five different charms out of clay, each one to benefit a specific charity. The designs were made into silver charms for necklaces. Selling them through her mom’s jewelry store, she raised almost $3,000.
Kyra donated money from her paw-shaped Furry Friends charm to an animal shelter. Her Little Airplane charm raised money to fly doctors to a health clinic in Mexico. “My parents taught me that even if you’re young, helping others is a good thing to do,” Kyra says.
Cute Crafts
When Rachel E. and Naomi G. first started making tiny cupcake earrings, the cute jewelry was a big hit. “A lot of girls at school liked our earrings,” says Naomi, age 11. “So we decided to have a craft sale.”
The girls sculpted, baked, and painted tons of tiny charms—cute cupcakes, itty-bitty bananas, even adorable little asparagus spears. They used the charms to make earrings, bracelets, and necklaces. “Making doughnut charms and painting on frosting and sprinkles is my favorite,” says Rachel, also 11.
