Fear of Falling

by Laurie Halse Anderson

  After we finish, we check on King’s Shadow and Trickster. Both of them have some healing to do, and I know Mr. Quinn will make sure it’s on horse-time, not people-time.

  I feel like Mr. Quinn’s using horse-time on me, too, the way he lets me learn slowly, bit by bit.

  And he’s using horse-time now as he waits for me to say what’s on my mind.

  I lean over the door to Trickster’s stall and breathe in the rich smell of horse and hay. To me it’s the best smell in the world.

  “I found out why Dad really came back,” I find myself saying.

  “Oh?” Mr. Quinn picks a piece of straw off his plaid shirt.

  “Yeah. He got fired from his job out in Texas. The only reason he’s back is that there’s a friend here who can get him a job.” I swallow back a sob that’s trying to form in my throat. “Didn’t have anything to do with us.”

  Mr. Quinn clears his throat. “Yes, I knew he’d lost his job.”

  “You did?” I exclaim.

  Mr. Quinn nods. “I thought your father should tell you about it himself. Wasn’t my place.”

  I guess I can understand that. “I don’t think I can ever forgive him for lying about the whole thing,” I confess as Trickster comes over for some petting. I stroke his nose, enjoying the velvety feel of his soft muzzle. “I used to think Dad was the greatest. But not anymore.”

  Mr. Quinn raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t speak.

  “In fact,” I continue, “I don’t want to be anything like him. I’m even thinking about giving up jumping. Who needs it? It’s just for show, anyway.”

  “Well,” Mr. Quinn says, gazing at Trickster rather than me, “I hope you won’t do that, David. As much as you may not want to hear it, you do have your father’s gift with horses. Only you have an advantage.”

  My head snaps around in surprise. “Advantage? Like what?”

  “Unlike your dad, you don’t have anything to prove.”

  I suddenly think of Dad watching the Olympics on TV—how sad and kind of bitter he always looked. He used to say he’d give anything for a chance to compete. The Olympics were supposed to be his big moment, but he never even got there.

  “Of course, you can also be stubborn and impatient like him, too,” Mr. Quinn says with half a grin.

  I start to protest, but I know it’s true. “I don’t want to be anything like him,” I bite out.

  “We can’t help being like our parents in some ways,” Mr. Quinn says. “But you just showed that you’re also different from your father. Like just now, when you didn’t jump.”

  I glance sideways at him, a blush creeping up my neck. I stuff my hands down into the pockets of my jeans. “So you saw me.”

  He nods. “I watched the whole thing. You’ve got a lot of love and respect for these animals, David. You’ve also got good intuition—when you stop and listen to it.” He turns and smiles at me. “You don’t have to prove anything to anybody but yourself. If you remember that, you’ll not only be as good a rider as your dad—you’ll be better.”

  I’m stunned speechless. The blush has totally taken over my whole face and head. Finally I manage to stammer out, “Thanks a lot, Mr. Quinn. I—I mean it.”

  I think of Dr. Mac’s Thankful List and realize that maybe I should start one of my own. Because I’m awfully thankful for Mr. Quinn.

  As we head out of the barn to lock up, he says, “I’ll let you in on a little secret, though.”

  “What?” I look up at him.

  “Your dad’s just human, like the rest of us. Even if sometimes he likes to act otherwise.” Mr. Quinn chuckles as he flicks off some of the lights. Then his face turns serious again. “He really does miss you kids. And you know why he’s working so hard to find a good job?”

  “’Cause he needs the money?”

  Mr. Quinn smiles. “Because he wants you to be proud of him.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I go home and do something that I think will make Mr. Quinn proud of me.

  I call my father at his hotel.

  “David,” Dad says, sounding surprised.

  I take a deep breath. “Forget what I said about tomorrow,” I blurt out.

  Dad waits.

  “Ashley will be really upset if you don’t come to dinner.”

  “Think so?”

  “I know so. And you know what else, Dad?”

  “What?” His voice sounds hopeful.

  “You gotta be there—’cause Mom’s not so hot at carving the turkey.”

  Dad laughs out loud. He wasn’t expecting that. Then he gets quiet. “Do you want me there, too, David?”

  I squeeze the phone receiver in my hand. I don’t know how to answer.

  How I feel about my dad has changed so much in the past two days. It’s gotten a lot more complicated. I don’t know if I’ll ever be quite as proud of him as I used to be. But he’s still my father. The only one I’ve got. And as Mr. Quinn says, he’s only human, just like the rest of us.

  “Yeah, Dad,” I say simply. “I do.”

  “I’ll be there,” he says.

  And this time I believe him.

  The next morning Mom’s running around like a crazy woman trying to get everything ready—and loving every minute. The turkey smells great, and I can’t wait to sit down and dig in.

  Finally Dr. Mac, Maggie, and Zoe arrive. With Mom’s friends from work plus me, Ashley, Brian, Mom, and Dad, we can just barely squeeze around our dining-room table. The table is all dressed up with Mom’s best china and crystal, stuff she doesn’t even let us touch the rest of the year. She’s even put candles in the middle of the table, along with some flowers that Dad brought over.

  Mom brings out the turkey and carves it herself, and guess what? She does a darn good job. Dad winks at me, and I hide a smile.

  Once we’ve all filled our plates and begun eating, Mom tries to get everybody to go around the table and tell something they’re thankful for. Brian and I roll our eyes at each other—it’s so hokey! But she always likes to do this sort of thing on holidays.

  Dr. Mac starts by saying she’s thankful for her Dr. Mac’s Place kids—that’s us! Ashley says she’s thankful for her purple sundress (as if we didn’t know). One of Mom’s coworkers, who just moved here from Laos, says she’s thankful to be having a real American holiday.

  When they get to me, I blurt out, “I’m thankful Zoe brought black-walnut chocolate cake!” And soon everyone’s laughing so much, we never make it the rest of the way around the table.

  I glance at Dad and wonder what he might have said. He looks pretty happy to be here, so maybe I can guess.

  Zoe cuts into the cake and insists on giving me the first big slice. Mom’s beaming, and Dad looks relaxed. I even catch Brian talking with Dad. I can’t hear what they say to each other, but Brian’s eyes seem to lose some of their hardness.

  I think it’s easier for Dad having lots of other people around. He and Mom seem to be getting more comfortable with each other as the meal goes on. Not like lovey-dovey or anything, but pleasant.

  Watching them, I realize they probably won’t get back together. That makes me sad. But I realize that I’ll never really know what they’ve been through as a couple. I guess we’ll all just have to figure out this new way of being a family as we go along.

  Oh yeah, I almost forgot—when Dad showed up at the door, he told us that he’d nailed the job in Philly. I also saw him slip an envelope into the pocket of Mom’s apron. I think I know what’s in it.

  After all our guests have left and the sun is getting low, Dad stands up, patting his stomach, and calls out, “Anybody up for a little touch football?”

  I look at Brian. He and Dad hold each other’s gaze with matching blue eyes. I know Dad’s asking him more than just that simple question.

  In an instant, I can tell Brian’s going to ruin it. He’s going to say no and bolt.

  I rush over and punch my brother on the arm. “Hey, Brian. Let’s play.”

  I can
see Brian is torn. I know how he feels.

  “Come on,” I badger him. “Scared you’re gonna lose?” Then I add so quietly that no one else can hear, “Please?”

  Brian hesitates, then shrugs. “OK, OK. Why not?” He punches me back and shoots a grin at Dad. “Beats cleaning up the dishes.”

  “Not so fast!” Mom says, pretending to be mad. “You’re not getting off that easy.” She holds out her arms, as if to prevent our escape.

  Brian shoves his hand out, like he’s blocking for me, and we dodge around her, whooping and hollering.

  “The dishes will be waiting when you come back in!” she assures us.

  “I wanna play, too!” Ashley shouts, tagging along.

  Dad scoops her up. “You can be on my team,” he says, swinging her up onto his shoulders as she shrieks with delight.

  We dig the football out of the garage and head out into the cold November afternoon.

  High Hurdles

  By J.J. MACKENZIE, D.V.M.

  Wild World News—Horses are natural jumpers. With their large, muscular hind quarters and long legs, they can propel themselves over jumps taller and longer than they are. But carrying a rider over a jump is another matter. To avoid injury, both horse and rider must be carefully schooled in the art of jumping.

  Whether you’re a beginner or riding for ribbons—or even if you just love watching jumping from the comfort of your couch—there’s plenty to learn about this thrilling sport.

  Jumping ABCs. The first obstacle a horse and rider learn to go over is not a jump at all, just a series of poles lying on the ground. As the horse trots over each pole, he won’t have to jump, but he will have to pick up his feet carefully and pay attention to what’s in front of him—good preparation for jumping.

  Next, the rider takes the horse over a low jump. As the horse rises into the air, the rider stands slightly in the stirrups and leans forward to help the horse over. Gradually, as the horse and rider develop greater skills and confidence, they work up to higher and higher jumps.

  Staying Safe. How safe is it to become airborne on top of a 1,000-pound animal? Like all sports, jumping has risks. That’s why a rider should always wear a well-fitting rid ing helmet. Traditionally, “hard hats” are made of cork covered with black velvet, but now they’re sometimes made of hard plastic with foam inside, much like bike helmets. (In fact, some helmets are dual-certified for biking and riding.)

  For taking higher jumps, horses sometimes wear their own safety gear. Special guards, or “boots,” can be fastened around the horse’s lower legs to help prevent bangs or bruises if the horse hits the crossbar.

  Even the jumps are specially designed with safety in mind. They are brightly painted, usually in white and a contrasting color, so that the horse can see them clearly. Horses see only in black and white, so having light and dark colors makes the jump more vis ible against the ground. And all but the most advanced types of jumps are designed so that the crossbar will fall off the hurdle easily if the horse hits it, which reduces the risk of injury.

  Showtime! For centuries, riders have enjoyed jumping horses over fences, streams, and logs while racing cross-country. This kind of racing became known as stee plechasing, because the riders often used church steeples as landmarks to guide them through the countryside. Nowadays a stee plechase means a full-speed horse race over a large course with extremely difficult jumps—not for the faint of heart! If you’ve seen the classic movie National Velvet, you have a sense of how challenging this sport can be. The race that young Velvet rides in (dressed as a boy, since female jockeys weren’t allowed!) is the most famous stee plechase in the world, an English race called the Grand National.

  Show jumping, another type of competitive jumping, takes place in show rings or are nas. Show jumping has been an Olympic event since 1900. As with steeplechasing, riders must clear the jumps in a certain order or they’re disqualified. But in show jumping, the horse and rider must also avoid being penalized for mistakes, or faults. Each rider jumps the course one at a time, with the judges watching closely. The rider is faulted if the horse knocks the bar off the jump or balks at a jump and refuses to go over. Three refusals in a row and you’re out! If two or more riders tie for first, they jump the course again. Then the rider with the fewest faults and the fastest time wins.

  HORSES CAN CLEAR JUMPS AS HIGH AS SEVEN FEET.

  Beginning jumpers can enter schooling shows, small local shows for less experi enced riders. At these shows, different class es have jumps set at different heights to suit riders of varying levels. Speed is not impor tant, so the riders are not timed. Instead, the goal is to jump the course smoothly and cleanly, showing good form, with as few faults as possible.

  The Sport of Champions. You can watch the best jumpers in the world on television, competing in the Olympics and other international events. You’ll see an impressive variety of difficult jumps, such as walls, water jumps, and combinations in which horses must go over two or three jumps one right after the other. You’ll see horses clearing heights of seven feet or more and jumping over obstacles that really do look impossible!