“Yes, but he can still smell it.” She grabbed the lead rope. “Now, start again. Clean his foot. When you finish, give him a little piece of carrot. Then, do the next hoof. When it’s done, he gets another piece...”
“And I keep doing the same thing until all his hooves are cleaned. Great idea, Dani.”
“You have to remember that he may be seven, but his brain is still maturing, and even when he’s full grown, most experts agree he’ll only have the intelligence of a three-year-old human being.”
Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday, September 18th, 4:00 p.m.
Dani joined us for our class, which was okay with me, but I saw Vicky roll her eyes. Once Rocky checked our saddles, she had us mount up and then warm up. Stops, starts, turning circles, balance exercises, Charming was his usual calm self. Lady could have cared less, and Summer thought the whole thing was boring so he should dance sideways instead of waiting for the next cue. I was glad Vicky had him, not me.
Mom sat in the bleachers in the far corner of the arena. For once she was quiet at a lesson instead of coaching from the sidelines. That made it easy for me to listen to Rocky and to stay relaxed in the saddle. After warming up, we moved our horses out to the wall. Charming wanted to hang by his mama and follow her around the arena, but I turned a couple circles and that gave us space.
Walking, trotting, patterns and exercises at various gaits kept us and the horses focused on performance. Rocky had me pull Charming into the center when she wanted Dani and Vicky to gallop. It was a very controlled run, what she called a slow, show ring lope, but I was glad we didn’t have to participate. Oh sure, I knew that Charming was trained for it, but just the idea was enough to freak me out, much less careening around the ring and trying to do it.
We finished by doing our version of the Shamrock Stable Macarena, standing up in our stirrups, reins on the neck and spelling out the name of the barn while we trotted our horses. It was always fun, and according to Rocky, it helped with our balance. It also boosted my confidence when I rode with no hands, controlling Charming with my seat, legs, and other aids. When we lined up in the center, Rocky told me that on Saturday I’d be doing ground school with my lesson horse. There were several things I needed to teach Twaziem. First I had to become skilled at leading him, backing, long line driving, and longeing him. Since Charming was already an expert, he could train me.
“Bring lots of carrots,” Rocky said. “You’ll need them.”
“If I’m doing ground work on the weekend, then why am I riding during the week?” I asked.
“Because you’ll be breaking Twaziem to ride next summer when he turns three,” Rocky said. “And you need to have incredible skills to train a young horse. You don’t want to teach him things he shouldn’t learn, like people can fall off.”
“Good point,” I said, “but I’d rather have you ride him.”
She nodded. “I’ll be the first person who rides him. Sierra can take over once I know he’s trustworthy. She can handle being bucked off, but I’m still a mom and I hate the idea of her being hurt. I don’t want you messing up what we’ve taught him, so you probably won’t be on his back before next summer.”
“Okay, as long as I don’t have to be on him when I might get hurt,” I said. “Jack says I’m wimpy and he’s right.”
“You’re not wimpy,” Rocky said. “You’re smart. Nobody wants to take flying lessons when they’re training a horse, so we’ll skip those.”
After we unsaddled and groomed our horses, we met Mom at the office. She drove Vicky home first, and once we were alone, I asked her about a sleepover on Friday. Asking for something like a slumber party in front of friends meant a guaranteed no, but since I hadn’t, she was good with it. Like she said, then she didn’t have to get up early to go pick up Vicky. We could go straight to the barn in the morning. Porter and Gwen could go on a trail ride while I had my lesson, then the three of us would leave and let Vicky do her internship.
I arrived home in time to help Jack with chores. While he did the other horses, I mucked Twaziem’s stall, watered, and fed him. He flicked his ears at me when I worked around him, but he didn’t try to bite or kick me. I remembered that I needed to talk to Rocky about his gender bias and decided to email her as soon as I got in the house. Then, I could ask her if she would be able to send me blank pages for the binder I planned to put together for Twaz. Next week when Officer Yardley showed up, I’d show him what paperwork really looked like.
After dinner, it was Jack’s turn for dish duty. Mom, Dad, and I headed for my father’s home office. I pulled the contract Brenna had given me from my backpack and passed them each a copy. “I really want this Mustang, and so I talked to Brenna about the installment plan.”
Mom stared at me and then looked at the figures on the sheet. “Twenty-one thousand dollars? Are you serious? That’s a lot of money.”
“Not if you spread out the payments,” I said. “And Brenna is willing to finance this herself.”
“Have you figured out the full amount you’ll be paying over five years?” Dad turned on the calculator on his desk. “Let’s do some math and see what the full price will be. How will you make the payments?”
Mom looked at him as if he were crazy. “The answer is no. School comes first, and she’s not getting a full-time job so she can pay out close to five hundred dollars a month for a sports car, John.”
“When you add in the insurance, taxes, and licenses, it comes closer to six hundred,” Dad said.
Relief washed through me. He hadn’t said no. He just wanted to talk money. With two of us on the same side, we could convince Mom this was a good idea. I just knew it.
* * * *
Thursday, September 19th, 3:15 p.m.
There were approximately ten schools in our division, and of course, all of them had teams at the first meet. There was lots of competition for the top four runners who would be going to the state competition, two girls, and two guys. Porter, Gwen, and I were three of the long distance runners for Lincoln High. We would be one of the first groups to take off since we had more than three miles to cover. It meant we found an empty spot near a couple picnic tables and started stretching.
I really liked our navy and gold uniforms better than last year’s crimson and gray. I looked so much better in blue. Hey, that was important when Harry would see me at assemblies and around school. There hadn’t been anything except an announcement this morning at school to promote the first cross-country meet, and I wasn’t surprised. It was football season after all. Tomorrow’s pep assembly would be to rouse everyone’s spirits for the game with Northside Academy in Snohomish, but if I P.R.’d today, it might get mentioned, and did I say Harry would see me? Yes! Another reason to do my best.
Coach Norris gave the team his usual pep talk, then looked at me, Porter and Gwen. “I could say that it goes without saying, but I’m saying it anyway...”
We all laughed and he shook his head at us, but kept smiling. “I expect the Three Musketeers to come in first, second and third, and everyone to P.R. today or at least try their hardest.”
“How can they even finish when they kept getting lost during practice?” Lew asked.
Coach Norris just eyed him for a long moment. “Don’t worry about them, son. Just focus on keeping Steve in sight, so you all finish in the top scorers, and I’ll be happy.”
“I don’t get it,” Lew said, as we jogged toward the starting line.
He was a dark-haired, dark-eyed junior who could have been a hunk if he didn’t sneer when he talked to girls, so I pretty much ignored him. Steve took pity on him and said, “Last year, Robin and Porter went to State. Gwen missed by two points.”
“Not this year,” Gwen said. “One of them can stay home.”
“If we tie, maybe they’ll send three of us from our division,” I said.
“It’s never happened before,” Porter said, “but as Coach says...”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Gwen and I chimed in w
ith her.
Lew looked at us as if we were nuts. It was time to go. We lined up across the track. We watched the official, 50 meters or more in front of the starting line, wait for attention. Then he fired a pistol and we took off. I didn’t try to get out in front. Neither did Porter or Gwen since we could make up time in the woods. We hit the first hill, and I took the lead into the woods, passing Lew with a friendly wave. I saw Steve ahead of me and increased my pace a little.
Sunlight glinted through the trees, dancing on the dirt path. It was the perfect day for a run, not too hot with a cooling breeze. The leaves on the maples and alders had started to turn color from green to gold and red. And the track was dry because the rainy season hadn’t started yet. I passed two other runners. They wore red, and I recognized Snohomish’s colors. Steve was still ahead of me. He was so going down, even if he didn’t know it yet.
This time the course was clearly marked with survey tape, so none of the competitors would make wrong turns and nobody could interfere with the race. The trail wound up hill and down, winding through the trees, and I heard the gurgle of a creek up ahead. It was barely down to a trickle. I leaped over it and kept going. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Porter right behind me. We were making great time. Up ahead, a log and a couple evergreen branches lay across the path. Steve was the only one in front of us now. He was over the cedar log, past the branches. I was right behind him, then Porter and Gwen.
I heard a faint buzz. Weird. What could it be? We were in the middle of nowhere.
And then somebody started yelling behind us. A guy by the sound of it, but I didn’t recognize the voice.
I slowed down and Porter pushed my shoulder. “Get going. Yellow jackets. Move it. Move it! Gwen’s allergic.”
I sped up, passed Steve, and we raced for the next curve in the trail. Once around it, I slowed down to a jog to check out Gwen. “Did you get stung?”
“No. It was the people behind me who got swarmed.” Gwen wasn’t even breathing hard, and she looked fine. Her face wasn’t swollen, and I didn’t see any big spots on her legs or bare arms. “I’m okay. If I was stung, I’d be down on the ground, and you’d be doing CPR. Let’s go. I want to P.R. today.”
“Okay, but get in front of us,” I said. “Then if there are any more wasp nests, we’ll be the ones who get the brunt of it.”
“Oh, aren’t you the fun girl,” Porter said, sarcasm in each word.
“Yeah, I am,” I said. “And I’m so not giving Gwen the kiss of life. She’s not my type.”
Giggling, Gwen took off like a rabbit being pursued by a dog, her ash-blonde ponytail bouncing against her shoulders. At this pace, we’d have no problem being the first ones back. For a moment, I wondered what the other distance runners would do about the yellow jackets, then decided I didn’t have time to worry about them. I needed to keep up with Gwen, and wow, could she run!
We were the first three runners to finish the five kilometers or just over three miles. Gwen came in first, me second, and Porter was right behind us. It would have been awesome if we could have crossed the line together, but the end was always set up in a funnel or lane to prevent that. We had to come in single file so the scoring would be accurate.
Coach Norris caught up to us a couple minutes later. “All three of you P.R.’d. Great job at your first meet, girls! Now, if the rest of the team hustles, we could win this thing!”
Chapter Sixteen
Thursday, September 19th, 6:10 p.m.
To celebrate Lincoln High winning their first cross-country meet, we swung through Kentucky Fried for chicken on the way home. As soon as we arrived, Jack headed for the barn to do chores. I’d just walked in the kitchen when the phone rang. I hurried for the landline. “Hello.”
“It’s me,” Jack said. “Your horse has colic. Tell the folks and I’ll start walking him.”
“I’ll be right there.” I turned to Mom. “Twaziem colicked again. I’m changing and going to the barn.”
“Okay, I’ll mix up a mineral oil cocktail,” Mom said.
“I’ll get the drugs.” Dad headed for the refrigerator and the drawer where we kept horse medications. “We’ll save him this time, Robbie. No problem.”
“I wonder why he’s sick. He was fine when I fed lunch,” Mom said.
I left the two of them talking as they worked and hustled to my room. It only took five minutes to switch from my track suit to jeans, a T-shirt, and sweatshirt. I pushed my cell into the back pocket of my jeans so I could call Dr. Larry if we needed him. Then, after a pause in the back porch for my boots, I was off to the barn.
When I arrived, Jack already had Twaziem in the indoor arena. Pinned back ears, evil glares and if a horse could stomp his hooves, mine was about to have a serious meltdown. He snaked his head around and tried to bite at my brother again. I went across the ring and took the lead. Twaz’s mood instantly changed. Ears up, he nuzzled me. “Yes, I’m here to save you, baby.”
“He’s a baby with teeth,” Jack told me, rubbing his arm. “I’ve seen dogs lunge like that with their mouths wide open, but never a horse. This guy has some issues. I’m going to take care of everyone else and then go find the ice.”
“He’s lucky to have you on his side,” I said, towing Twaziem around the arena. “A lot of guys would walk off and let him die because of his crappy attitude.”
“I’m destined to be a hero.” Whistling, Jack headed off to shovel horse poop.
“You’ve got to get over yourself.” I petted Twaziem’s brown neck. “My brother will never hurt you. He’s not like that creep, Caine. Okay?”
Another bump with his nose and I kept walking him. “No, you don’t get any carrots right now. You have to get over your tummy troubles and I need to hear your gut rumbling first, plus I need to see and count lots of turds. Dad will never let me have the Mustang if he has to pay another vet bill for you, so we better not need Dr. Larry tonight.”
* * * *
Friday, September 20th, 7:40 a.m.
I barely got to school on time the next morning, and of course, we were on assembly schedule today. Luckily, I had Mr. Sutcliffe for Algebra instead of eagle eye, rule worshipping Mrs. Weaver. He waited at the door and held my mocha while I yawned my way through my backpack, hunting out my math homework.
“Late party last night after the cross-country team won the meet?” Mr. Sutcliffe asked, his brown eyes crinkling with laughter and a big, warm smile on his face.
“I wish,” I said. “My silly horse colicked, probably because supper was late, and I was up with him till three in the morning.”
“Oh, no.” Dani stopped behind me and unzipped her backpack to do the homework hunt. “Is he okay? What did Dr. Larry say?”
“To get used to colics because it’s a problem that a lot of horses have when they’re so debilitated.” I handed over the paper to Mr. Sutcliffe and took back my coffee. “And then he told me to stop having my nails done and to have the artificial ones removed because they’ll rip through the glove when I have to stick my arm up Twaziem’s tushie and clean out the poop.”
Mr. Sutcliffe held out the page as if it came from the barn, not my backpack. “Please tell me you washed your hands before you did your homework.”
Dani laughed and handed over her paper. “Come on, Mr. S. If there was poop on it, you could see it.”
“Yes, but a couple weeks ago she gave me a paper with teeth marks,” Mr. Sutcliffe said. “I knew the assignment was difficult, but I didn’t expect anyone to have to chew their way through it.”
“My cat got it,” I told Dani, “and I didn’t have time to do it over.”
“That’s her story and she’s sticking to it.” Mr. Sutcliffe laughed, a deep rumble. “I’m going with the idea that I’m a tough teacher, and it was a hard assignment.”
“Keep dreaming,” I told him. Still carrying my coffee cup, I headed for my desk.
There was a student pileup at the door. Mr. Sutcliffe admitted this was his first teaching job and he
thought we should all be as excited about Math and Science as he was. I had to admire the guy. At least he wasn’t a phony, and he was never mean. Maybe I could talk to him about the installment payments on the Mustang and see if he agreed with my dad about the long-term cost of the car.
I’d barely sat down when Olivia strutted over, flanked by two Native American girls. Olivia was Native, African-American and Asian—absolutely gorgeous and a total witch, only I spelled it with a “b.” Even if she could really run, she’d lost me as an admirer last spring when she pitched a fit at one of the last track meets and called the official a racist for restarting the long distance race because there had been too much messing around.
“What’s up?” I didn’t like looking up at her, so I stood. “You have a problem with me?”
“I don’t like losing,” Olivia said, “especially to princesses like you and your posse.”
“Well, suck it up, buttercup.” I met her glare for glare. “We crossed the finish line first. Fair is fair.” I had to be honest, even with her, so I added, “If Gwen had been stung by those wasps, we’d have lost because she’s hyper allergic.”
“And you wouldn’t have left her,” Cedar sneered.
I let the silence build while I looked at her. She always copied exactly what Olivia wore and tried to act like her, but she didn’t have her friend’s guts. “No more than Olivia would have left you.”
A smile flickered across Olivia’s beautiful brown face, then disappeared. “Exactly, so we’re running with you and your buds starting next practice.”
“But, we hate them,” Kanisha whined.
“They win so we’re running with them.” Olivia’s tone made it a statement, not a question. She turned away. “We’ll see you Monday at practice.”
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