Julius cried harder. “Not new one!” he insisted.
I hurried over to the sink and washed the spoon. I dried it quickly with a towel and handed it back to Julius. “Here you go!” I said cheerfully.
His lower lip trembled.
“You’re a good stirrer, Julius,” I said. “Want to try again?”
Julius sniffled, nodded, and returned to stirring. He started humming, and before long he said, “I happy-happy.”
I looked around for Toulane, but she was gone.
When the lunch bell rang on Monday, Toulane was the first of my classmates out the door. She had been avoiding me all morning, ever since things hadn’t worked out for her at the riding center.
As I headed for the door, Mr. Wu stopped me. “McKenna, I need a word with you,” he said.
Uh-oh. Had he noticed that something was wrong between me and Toulane? Or was I in trouble again with schoolwork? A streak of panic swept through me like hot lava, but I reminded myself that my grades were up. All my homework was in on time.
“McKenna,” Mr. Wu said, as the last student left the room, “you’ve made such great progress in reading and schoolwork that as far as I’m concerned, you don’t have to meet with a tutor anymore.” He beamed at me. “Great work!”
I didn’t know what to say. I was thrilled to hear that I’d made progress and that my teacher was no longer worried about me. I should have felt happy and proud.
Instead, I felt sad and a little worried, too, about not meeting with Josie anymore. Having her help was like having a spotter at the gym to catch me if I fell. What if I fell behind again in schoolwork? What if I never saw Josie again? I stared at the door handle.
I must have worn my mixed feelings on my face, because Mr. Wu said, “That is, unless you don’t want to stop working with Josie.” He paused and said, “McKenna, it’s entirely up to you.”
I looked up at Mr. Wu and asked, “Can I meet with her at least one more time?”
“Of course,” he agreed.
As I stepped into the hallway’s flow of students, another wave of worry washed over me. I wasn’t ready to stop meeting with Josie yet. Would I ever be?
On Wednesday, I left class early and headed to the school library. As I walked down the hall, my feet felt heavy. The first few sessions with Josie, I had dragged my feet because I didn’t want to be tutored. Now, I hated to think our meetings were coming to an end. With a twinge, I pushed through the swinging double doors.
I’d come to love meeting within the library’s walls, surrounded by the smell of countless books and the soft voices of students and teachers. I headed toward our usual table, where Josie was already parked. She smiled, but her dimples weren’t quite as deep as usual.
“Hey, congratulations!” Josie said. “My teacher said your grades are up and you don’t need tutoring anymore.”
“Thanks,” I said quietly, setting my backpack on the table. “Josie, I should be happy about that…but what if I start falling behind again?”
Josie laughed lightly, but her eyes looked a little sad, too. “You’ll do fine, McKenna,” she said. “But we can still get together whenever you want to.”
“You mean if I’m stuck?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said. “Or not stuck. I may not be your tutor, but we can always be friends.”
“Oh,” I said, letting out a deep breath. “That makes me feel better.”
Working with Josie had become more than just tutoring. I’d hoped to make progress with schoolwork, but I’d never imagined we’d become friends. Now, in so many ways, I felt Josie knew and understood me better than anyone.
Josie smiled and said, “If you start struggling with schoolwork, I’m just a phone call, text, or visit away. Got it?”
“Got it!” I said. And then, instead of worry, I felt a surge of everything’s-going-to-be-fine feeling.
Being half-funny and half-serious, I held an imaginary phone to my ear, thumb up and pinky toward my mouth. “Hello?” I said. “Is Josie there?”
Josie played along and picked up her imaginary phone. “May I help you?” she answered.
“I have a problem,” I said.
“Yes?” Josie said officially. “Well, jump right in—what’s bothering you?”
Then I put my hand on the table, and Josie did, too. I looked her in the eyes. She’d been so helpful in so many ways. Maybe she could help me with this bigger problem, too.
“I tried to help Toulane feel better about being at the riding center, but now she won’t talk to me,” I said.
“Hmm,” said Josie, tilting her head. “Yeah, she didn’t look very happy on Volunteer Day.”
I leaned into my open palms. “She seems so uncomfortable with my friendship with you, with the riding center—with all of it,” I said.
“You mean,” Josie whispered, “uncomfortable with people with disabilities?”
I nodded. “I guess I just wish the riding center could help Toulane the way it helps me,” I said. “I feel better by volunteering there. It helps me take my mind off making the team in March.”
“I know,” Josie said with a nod. “For me, the riding center helps me relax and forget about some of my other challenges for a while. My mom calls it ‘the B word.’”
“Huh?” I asked. “What’s that?”
“Balance,” said Josie as she reached up and turned her earring between her fingers.
I thought of Toulane and how she must be feeling extra pressure to succeed at the gym, now that her sister couldn’t compete. Her mom was focused on Toulane’s every move. “That’s what Toulane needs,” I agreed. “A little more balance.”
I flashed back to how good Toulane had been with Julius when she first started mixing cookie dough with him—before the spoon incident. Maybe the riding center could still work for her. Maybe she just needed more good experiences like that to help her feel more comfortable. “What if I invited her back to Hearts and Horses sometime?” I asked.
Josie shrugged. “Think she’d say yes?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Probably not,” I said. “But I can always ask, right?”
Josie picked up her imaginary phone again and said, “Right.”
That night over a lasagna dinner—with Cooper under the table, hoping for someone to drop a slice of garlic bread—I told Mom and Dad that I’d “graduated” from needing a tutor.
“Bravo, McKenna!” said Mom, lifting her glass. We all toasted with glasses of milk.
After dinner, while Mom read to the twins, Dad and I worked on dishes. With his hands in sink water, Dad asked, “Where should we go?”
“Go?” I said, not sure what he meant.
“To celebrate your hard work and graduation from tutoring,” said Dad.
“Oh. The top of the Space Needle?” I suggested, expecting to hear the same old answer: “It’s too expensive.” The Needle towers above the harbor in downtown Seattle, and from the top, you can see the whole city. Just below the rooftop is the revolving SkyCity Restaurant, which I’d never been to before. I didn’t hold my breath.
Dad gave me a wink.
“Really?” I asked.
He nodded and went back to scrubbing a skillet. “What you’ve accomplished is huge, and so important,” he said. “When you learned you were falling behind, you could have just shrugged your shoulders and said ‘so what?’—and fallen further behind.”
My cheeks burned with happiness. It felt so good to know Dad was proud of me.
He kept talking and scrubbing. “I see lots of kids like that at the high school,” he said. “They slip behind somewhere early on and never catch up. So, yes, I want to do something extra special—our own awards celebration. You’ve worked hard at school and at gymnastics. That’s no easy feat!” He hugged me with one arm, keeping his dripping wet hand outstretched over the sink.
“At the top of the Space Needle?” I said excitedly. “Really? When? I can’t wait!”
“Well,” Dad said, “we’ll have to work on
that. I have so many meetings lately I can barely see straight. But we’ll schedule it just as soon as we can. And, McKenna, would you like to invite a friend?”
I instantly thought about both Josie and Sierra. I wouldn’t be where I was in school or at the gym without their support. But then I thought of Toulane. Even if things felt broken between us now, she’d been there for me for years. Maybe inviting her could be a good way to patch things up.
“Dad?” I asked as I wiped dishes. “I have an extra special request. Could, um, Josie and Toulane both come?”
Dad paused to think about it. “If that’s what you would like,” he finally said, “then that’s what you’ll get.”
“Thanks, Dad!” I said, hugging his waist. I felt like dancing and leaping across the kitchen. Instead, I spun around, planted my feet, and stretched out my arms in a gymnastics salute.
Dad turned sideways and started clapping, sending water droplets across the floor—and me.
I cracked up and took a bow.
That night, I wrote a note to Toulane. I really couldn’t give up on our friendship. We always sat near each other in class and worked out three times a week at the gym together. Our friendship was worth fighting for.
It was hard to know what to say in my note. It took me a few drafts to get the words just right, but finally it read:
Hi, Toulane,
I know things have been hard between us lately, but I want our friendship to work. Can we start over and try again?
My parents are taking me to dinner at the top of the Needle sometime soon, and I want you and Josie to come, too. Will you? Hope you say yes!
McKenna
The next day in class, I passed the note over my shoulder and dropped it onto Toulane’s desk.
I heard her unfold the note, and I held my breath, waiting for her reaction. I wondered if she’d say something mean, or worse yet, say nothing at all. But as I stole a backward glance, I saw a half-smile on Toulane’s lips.
A few minutes later, I heard Toulane tear a sheet of paper from her notebook and scribble something on it. She tapped the back of my shoe with her toe, her signal that a note was coming my way.
I reached down to pick up the note from the floor—carefully, because Mr. Wu was at the board doing math problems—and opened it. Her note said: Really? My answer is YES!!!
We exchanged smiles.
Before class ended, I wrote another note and handed it to Toulane. It said:
Hi again.
I’m so glad you said YES!
And I’m sorry things didn’t work out at the riding center. You were really GOOD at helping Julius before he dropped his spoon, and I liked having you there. Will you give the center one more try—for me?
I didn’t hear back from Toulane until the end of the day, when she was leaving to catch her bus. She pressed a new note into my palm, and I read it right away. It said: I’ll check with my mom.
At school on Friday, Toulane said she’d “try” to show up at Hearts and Horses. But that afternoon at the riding center, I wondered if she really would.
I waited on the bleachers alone, wondering where Elizabeth was today. She and her brother must have had something else going on.
As I watched Josie riding, I noticed a freestanding basketball hoop set up at the far end of the arena. One of the riders tossed a basketball toward the hoop when he rode past. When he missed, a volunteer retrieved the ball for him, and he tried again.
“Hey, McKenna,” Shannon said, pausing by the bleachers. “Josie’s lucky to have such a good friend coaching her.”
“Me?” I laughed, pointing to my chest. “I don’t know anything about riding—just gymnastics.”
Shannon thought for a minute. Then she said, “I know you’ve learned things in gymnastics that already help here, too.”
I instantly thought of Dora, breathing in purple and breathing out gray, and I nodded. I guess gymnastics and horseback riding aren’t that different after all.
Just then, to my surprise, Toulane walked into the arena. I jumped up to greet her. “Shannon, this is Toulane,” I said, waving to my friend. “She’s a gymnast, too.”
“Really? Great!” Shannon said. “I just might ask for some tips from you two, okay?”
I couldn’t imagine how else we might help, but I nodded.
Toulane wore an I’m-not-sure-I-want-to-be-here expression, but I ignored it. She’d shown up. That was a start.
“Hey, let’s get some popcorn and come back and watch the riders,” I suggested.
Toulane followed me back out to the lobby, where the old-fashioned red popcorn machine was busily popping. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop! Golden popcorn rose inside the glass walls. I grabbed two paper serving bags and filled them from the dispenser. Then we headed back into the arena and munched and talked while we watched from the bleachers.
“Look, Josie’s riding better, isn’t she?” I said as Josie passed by, reins in hand. She waved at us.
Toulane leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Yeah, she’s actually pretty good,” she admitted.
“There’s a lot that Josie does well,” I added, “and things she’s still working on.”
“Like what?” Toulane asked.
“Like facing her fear of falling,” I replied.
Toulane fell silent. I glanced at her and noticed that she had hardly touched her popcorn. Her fingernails were chewed so short that the skin at the edges looked pink and raw.
“Maybe we’re the same that way—you, me, and Josie,” I said gently. “We all get scared sometimes.”
Toulane turned toward me, her brown eyes intense and serious, and said, “McKenna, I’m so scared that I won’t make the competitive team. My mom reminds me almost every day that tryouts are coming and that I have to do my best. I can barely breathe just thinking about it all.”
She looked so miserable. Why couldn’t gymnastics be fun for her anymore?
“Toulane, you’re good, you really are,” I said. “But I don’t want to see you feeling this bad. It seems like you haven’t had any fun in a long, long time.”
She didn’t answer, but I could tell she was listening, so I dove in and said what I’d been wanting to say.
I tilted my head. “Coming to the riding center has helped me, weirdly, to feel less stressed about everything—to be more balanced, you know?” I said.
Toulane nodded and then began working on the edge of a fingernail.
As I looked out into the arena, wondering what to say next, Shannon caught my eye. She waved us over to the edge of the arena.
“Girls,” she called up to us, “some of our riders could use help with balance. Have a few tips you could share with them?”
Toulane and I glanced at each other, mouths wide open.
“Balance?” I whispered to Toulane, my head close to hers. “There’s that word again.”
Toulane giggled but then got all serious and whispered back, “I don’t have any tips to share. I’m not a rider!”
“Me neither,” I said. “But we’re gymnasts. Remember the first time we stepped onto the balance beam? We fell off, and it was the low beam!”
Toulane laughed. “We were terrible back then,” she said, shaking her head.
“Yeah,” I said. “We had to learn how to balance. Should we try this, too?”
A playful spark lit up Toulane’s eyes. “Okay,” she said. “We can try.”
As Toulane and I stepped down the bleachers toward the fence, Shannon signaled a young rider toward the edge of the arena. It was Julius! He rode over on Oreo with the help of a leader and two side-walkers.
“Hey there, Julius!” I said.
Curls of hair escaped his zebra helmet. I waited for him to answer, but his eyes were fixed only on Toulane. “Me ’member you!”
“You do?” said Toulane, looking more pleased than uncomfortable this time. I was glad things were starting out well.
Shannon said, “Julius has a way of leaning too far forward in the saddle. Any ideas for
him, girls?”
Toulane crossed her arms tightly. Was she going to freeze up again?
“Julius,” I said, “think of yourself as a puppet.”
He closed his mouth into a tight line. Maybe he thought that acting like a puppet meant he couldn’t speak or something.
Toulane smiled. “Julius?” she said. “Imagine you have a string attached to the top of your head.”
Julius lifted his eyebrows high, eyes widening.
With a little laugh, Toulane stepped up closer to Julius and faced him. “Imagine that the string is holding you up,” she said. “Now what if someone pulled that string up a little higher…” Toulane pretended to lift a string higher above her own head, and as she did, her eyebrows rose and she stood up a little taller.
Julius put his hand on top of his helmet and patted it. Then he mirrored Toulane’s example and pulled with a clenched fist upward—more like pulling on a heavy rope than on a string, but it worked, because Julius sat up taller by an inch or two.
“And a little higher still…” Toulane said, rising to her tiptoes. “Great! That’s really good! Now, take a deep breath.” Again, she demonstrated. “Let your shoulders drop as you let your breath out. But stay tall! You’re still a puppet on a string!”
“Okay, Julius,” Shannon said. “Can you try that while you ride?” Julius nodded and set off again, this time sitting taller and straighter in the saddle.
I nudged Toulane. “Look at him!” I said.
“Wow,” Toulane whispered, wearing a pleased expression.
When Josie rode up next on Pumpkin, she looked more relaxed than I’d seen her yet at the center. “Hi, Josie,” Shannon said. “We’re working on some great tips for balance and posture, but you’re looking at ease on your horse—like a real pro!”
Toulane piped up and said, “You are a good rider. I don’t have a clue how to do that.”
“I’m just a beginner,” Josie said, flushing a little, “but every week I learn something new about horses. Like a horse’s ears. Watch where Pumpkin’s ears turn, and you can see what she’s paying attention to.”
McKenna, Ready to Fly Page 5