Heads Up, Horses!

by Sibley Miller

  Kona gaped down at Gray. He was squinting up at her between noisy bites of an apple.

  “How can you referee and eat at the same time?” she demanded.

  “I can do anything and eat at the same time,” Gray declared.

  “You’re my kind of guy, Gray!” Sirocco said, winking at the squirrel.

  “And the fouled player gets a penalty kick,” Gray continued. “Go ahead, Sumatra. Place the ball in front of the other team’s goal and give it a good wallop.”

  “But that’s as good as giving her a goal!” Kona protested.

  “Maybe next time,” Sumatra smirked, “you’ll keep your nose to yourself.”

  Kona scowled at Sumatra.

  “This isn’t personal, Sumatra,” Kona said. “It’s just a game!”

  “Of course,” Sumatra said as she positioned her ball carefully before Kona’s team’s goal. Her kick sent the ball straight into the water trough, despite Kona’s best efforts to block it.

  “The score’s now THREE to TWO,” Gray announced.

  “Grrr,” Kona responded.

  The rest of the game went like this: Sirocco kept drifting off to practice loop-de-loops. Thelma never tried to score: She only kicked the ball to amuse Andy.

  And the other team was no better: Sumatra and Brisa started doing little dances with the ribbons of Sumatra’s magic halo.

  “Kick the ball, punt the ball, go team!” they cheered, before collapsing into giggles.

  “You can’t play soccer and be cheerleaders at the same time,” Kona reprimanded them.

  “Why not?” Brisa asked. “Gray can crack walnuts and referee at the same time.”

  Kona gasped and looked down at Gray. The squirrel was indeed knocking walnuts against the paddock fence, all while he made his referee calls.

  Am I the only one who takes this game seriously? Kona complained to herself.

  When it came to Andy, the answer was definitely yes. Try though she might, Kona just could not get the rambunctious colt to follow her coaching.

  “No, no, Andy,” she admonished him after he kicked the ball in the wrong direction (for the fourth time). “Kick it this way!”

  Or it was, “Andy, pass the ball. Don’t try to score! Nooooo!” as Andy missed the goal by a mile.

  Or, “Andy, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you ten times, stop trying to fly and run for the ball.”

  And now Sumatra’s team made another goal, and the score was tied three to three.

  There are just a few minutes left to play. I’ve got to score, Kona told herself breathlessly. If I don’t, my team won’t win!

  Aggressively, Kona scooped up the ball and kicked it to Sirocco. He passed it to Thelma, who nudged the ball toward Andy.

  “Here you go, sweetie,” she said. “Have fun.”

  “No, no,” Kona protested, zipping down toward Andy.

  “Pass the ball to me, Andy,” she called to the foal. “Over here, little guy!”

  Andy whinnied playfully at Kona, then nosed the ball down the field.

  Down the field, Kona realized, in the wrong direction! Andy was moving the ball toward their own team’s goal!

  “No, no, Andy!” Kona called. Despite her best efforts, her voice was edgy now. “This away! Pass it to me!”

  “Wheeeee!” Andy squealed with glee. He gave the ball a kick, sending it closer to the wrong goal, then trotted after it.

  “Andddyyyyyy!” Kona neighed. She flew as fast as she could toward the ball, but the big foal was too quick for her. He pounced on the ball and gave it another resounding kick!

  Klang!

  “And the foal scores!” Benny announced as the ball clattered into the water trough.

  Benny ruffled Andy’s mane with his nose and said, “Thanks for the help, kid!”

  “Goal!” Gray called as he munched on another walnut. “And the game goes to Sumatra, Brisa, Benny, and Fluff, FOUR to THREE!”

  “Andy!”

  Kona flapped her wings furiously, as she hovered before the foal’s big, black eyes.

  “Why didn’t you do what I told you?” she reprimanded him. “You lost this game for us. I hope you’re happy about it!”

  But for the first time, perhaps ever, Andy didn’t seem happy. He stared at Kona with wide, perplexed eyes. His lower lip trembled.

  And that’s when another angry voice rang out across the paddock.

  “That’s it!” Thelma bellowed, galloping over to cuddle Andy—and glare at Kona. “You’re OUTTA here!”

  “Wah!” Kona cried—and flew away from the paddock as fast as she could.

  CHAPTER 5

  A Solo Sport

  Kona found refuge on a low-hanging tree branch in the middle of the dandelion meadow. She hid among the leaves and sniffled. Her halo of magical flowers sagged.

  Part of Kona was ashamed of herself for yelling at Andy. But another part of her felt misunderstood!

  “What’s so wrong about wanting to win?” she murmured to herself tearfully. “I mean, isn’t that the whole point of playing?”

  “Kona.”

  Kona jumped as a voice rumbled up from beneath her. She used her front legs to part the leaves on her branch and peered downward.

  It was Thelma! The mare was standing beneath the tree, gazing up at Kona with a mixture of irritation and compassion.

  “Soccer is just a game,” Thelma said. “Isn’t that what you’ve been telling us?”

  “Well, yes,” Kona responded, fidgeting uncomfortably. “But I didn’t say that winning the game doesn’t matter! Didn’t you want to beat them as much as I did?”

  “You mean Sumatra, Brisa, Benny, and Fluff?” Thelma asked.

  “Of course,” Kona said. “It was us against them, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Actually, to me, Kona,” the mare said, “it felt a lot like all of us … against you.”

  Shaking her head, Thelma loped away to graze next to Andy, Benny, and Fluff. Fluttering above them, Sirocco, Sumatra, and Brisa cast worried glances at Kona’s tree, but gave Kona her space.

  Feeling lonely, Kona sighed and looked around. She noticed an acorn resting on the end of her branch. With a shrug, she kicked the nut toward a knot in the tree’s trunk.

  Plunk. A hole in one!

  But Kona just sighed. Scoring a direct hit wasn’t fun without friends to share it with.

  And now that I think about it, she realized, just playing with my friends is a lot more fun than beating them at a game.

  Kona snuck a glance at Sumatra, Brisa, and Sirocco. They were chasing each other through the air now, and giggling. They seemed happy.

  Slowly and shyly, Kona flew over to her friends, wondering if they’d turn their flanks, tails, and cold shoulders on her.

  But instead, the Wind Dancers gathered around her, their halos bright. Down on the ground, the big horses clustered together expectantly as well.

  “I … want to be an ‘us’ again,” Kona declared to her friends sheepishly. “And to forget about the ‘them.’ And…”

  “Hey, Kona,” Sumatra interrupted her.

  Startled, Kona watched as Sumatra swooped down to the ground, scooped up a pinecone in her teeth, and tossed it toward her.

  “Catch!” Sumatra yelled playfully.

  Instinctively, Kona dashed for the pinecone and caught it in her teeth! With a laugh, she tossed it to Sirocco, who bopped it to Brisa.

  But Brisa missed the pinecone. She was too busy admiring the magic gems in her halo! All the horses laughed—and none louder than Kona.

  Sumatra flew closer to the violet filly and grinned at her.

  “I kind of like playing catch, don’t you?” she said. “No rules. No winning. No losing.”

  “Me, too!” Kona agreed, shooting Sumatra a grateful look. “I’m ready to say good-bye to soccer!”

  “Oh, let’s not do that!” Sumatra said, looking horrified. “I like soccer! We all do. It’s just the crazy competitiveness that we don’t like.”

  On
ce again, Kona felt embarrassment wash over her.

  “But don’t forget,” Sumatra added kindly, “without you, we never would have started playing soccer. So we owe you a thank you.”

  “Really?” Kona said, looking hopefully at Brisa, Sirocco, and the big horses.

  “Really,” Sirocco agreed, swooping over for a nose nuzzle. Kona nuzzled him gratefully.

  “So,” Thelma said, now kicking the Jolly Ball off the ground and lobbing it up to Kona. “No more bullying your players, particularly my little foal?”

  “No more!” Kona assured her, as she kicked the ball to Brisa.

  “And no more gunning for every goal?” Brisa asked, as she knocked the ball back to Kona.

  “Definitely not,” Kona said with a laugh. This time, she kicked the ball to Sumatra. Sumatra caught it between her forelegs and looked at Kona hard.

  “So how about for the next few days, we just kick the Jolly Ball around?” Sumatra asked. “No pressure. No points?”

  All the horses held their breath. Would Kona be able to give up this part of the game?

  “Deal!” Kona neighed happily.

  “Yay!” Sumatra cried, tossing the ball down to Andy, who’d picked up a twig with his teeth and was waving it around. Accidentally, the foal knocked the ball with his stick and sent it sailing!

  Kona watched the ball fly away, with a thoughtful smile—which quickly morphed into a sly grin.

  “You know,” she proposed to her friends with a twinkle in her eyes, “while we’re taking our little break from competitive soccer, what do you say we try our hooves at baseball? I bet I could score more home runs than any of you!”

  “KONA!” neighed every horse in the meadow.

  “JUST KIDDING!” Kona giggled. Then she scooped another pinecone off the ground and gently tossed it to Andy. The little colt snapped the cone up in his teeth, then galloped away, whinnying mischievously with every step.

  The Winner’s Circle

  The next day, Kona, Sumatra, Brisa, and Sirocco found themselves in a new game of soccer.

  But this time they weren’t playing. They were sitting on the edge of their seats (well, the edge of the schoolyard fence where they were invisibly perched) watching Leanna and her friends play another team on the field.

  Kona’s heart swooped with each kick, goal, and block, especially the ones made by Leanna.

  But just like Sumatra, Brisa, and Sirocco, Kona cheered for both teams—right up until the whistle blew at the end of the game and the referee declared that Leanna’s team had lost!

  “Congratulations,” Leanna said again and again, as she and her teammates high-fived the other team’s players.

  Kona looked at her fellow Wind Dancers guiltily.

  “I guess I could have learned a thing or two more from Leanna,” she said. “You know, about being a good sport.”

  “I think,” Sumatra said, reaching out to give Kona a nose nuzzle, “you’ve learned now.”

  As the Wind Dancers fluttered up into the air and began flying back to their meadow, Kona peeked over her shoulder with a happy smile.

  Sumatra was right.

  After all, the trophies waiting for both soccer teams along the side of the field had been her idea.

  And she was the one who had insisted that a trophy go to every player, no matter which team won.

  Each tiny prize was made of an acorn cup filled to the brim with flowers from Kona’s magic halo.

  “After all,” Kona said to her friends as they made their way home together, “everyone who knows how to play the game is a winner!”

  Here’s a sneak preview of Wind Dancers Book 6:

  Horses Her Way

  CHAPTER 1

  Swim Team

  Splash!

  Two of the three fillies, Kona and Sumatra, were standing ankle-deep in the gentle water of a creek near their apple tree house.

  Sirocco, on the other hand, was smack dab in the middle of the creek.

  “SIR-OC-CO!” Kona and Sumatra neighed indignantly at their fellow Wind Dancer.

  “What?” Sirocco said innocently as he joyfully thrashed in the water.

  “This was supposed to be just a morning romp,” Sumatra reprimanded the unruly colt.

  “Right,” Kona agreed. “To get our last taste of the creek before it gets too cold.”

  She glanced up at the tree branches hanging over the creek. The leaves were already turning golden yellow and russet red as autumn approached.

  “So what’s the problem?” Sirocco asked again.

  Splash, splash, splash!

  Now came a sweet sing-songy voice from the creek bank: “You’re not romping, Sirocco! You’re positively wallowing in the water!”

  This was Brisa, curled up on a perfect little mound of emerald moss. Her long, blonde mane shimmered. Her coral-pink coat gleamed. And her magic-halo jewels danced around her neck.

  Sirocco rolled his eyes at the pretty little filly.

  “I don’t know why it matters to you, Brisa,” he said. “You haven’t come anywhere near the water.”

  “Of course not,” Brisa said, widening her already huge eyes. “A damp mane? A matted tail? Hooves covered with creek silt? I don’t think so.”

  Kona looked down a little sheepishly at the white socks on her forelegs. They were, indeed, mottled with mud.

  Sumatra’s pale green tail did look wet and stringy compared to Brisa’s flowing blonde one.

  And Sirocco was a complete mess!

  But Sirocco didn’t care if he was dirty!

  And he didn’t think his friends should, either.

  “C’mon,” he scoffed, using his nose to send a splash Kona’s way. “It’s our last dip of the season. Live a little!”

  “Eek!” Brisa cried. She fluttered her wings hard and rose into the air. “You guys are going to get me all dirty!”

  “Nobody here cares what you look like!” Sirocco bellowed.

  “I care,” Brisa said simply. And with that, she turned and began flying away.

  A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK

  An Imprint of Macmillan

  WIND DANCERS: HEADS UP, HORSES! Copyright © 2009 by Reeves International, Inc. All rights reserved. For information, address Feiwel and Friends, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

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  Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto

  First Edition: 2009

  www.feiwelandfriends.com

  eISBN 9781466890695

  First eBook edition: January 2015