by Jane Yolen
Only Robbie fully accepted the magic that was Kai.
Oh—and Agora, of course. Since she’d never had a foal before, perhaps she just thought this was an ordinary birth, an ordinary foal, an ordinary boy.
* * *
The four days we asked our horse boarders to give us should have been enough. But we hadn’t counted on Mrs. Angotti’s sneaky determination. She kept calling Mom and getting put off again and again. So she took things into her own hands.
The morning of the next day, she didn’t call ahead, just arrived without announcing her intentions at a time when Martha and I were mucking out stalls, Robbie was in with Agora and Kai, and Mom was in the house making phone calls.
The Angottis—Mrs. A and the two kids, Joey and Angela—all got out to shift the sawhorses so they could drive right up to the barn.
I saw them by accident as I started out of the stables and would have said something, but Mom had already seen them, too. She came galloping out of the house, waving her hands to stop them. So I shrank back against the wall.
She and Mrs. A argued for about five minutes, most of the time loud enough for me to hear.
Halfway through, Mom said, “I’ll go and get your horses right now and tie them to the back of your car if you drive up to the barn.”
Mrs. A replied, “You wouldn’t!”
“Just try me! They can trot home after you, or you can leave them here, but you’re not coming in. Not till the four days are up and the vet gives us the all clear. Maybe even longer.”
They were still arguing when I sneaked back to Agora’s stall. Robbie was reading a book to himself while Kai slept. Agora was quietly munching on grain.
I got into one of the green quarantine suits and put the mask on.
Just in case.
“Stay here,” I whispered so I didn’t wake Kai.
Robbie dropped the book about Thomas Jefferson into his lap and stared at me.
“And put on Martha’s suit just in case. Mask, too.” They were hanging on the back of the door. I handed them to him. He could just about manage without me.
“Why…?”
“The Angottis are here.”
“But it’s not four days yet,” he whined.
“I know that. But they’re here anyway.”
At that moment Agora made an odd sound, and I turned to see her straddling her sleeping foal and baring her teeth at the door.
It didn’t take a horse whisperer to guess something was up.
Agora never acted this way except when one of the Angottis was around. I don’t know that they’re actually bad kids. But they’re loud, and they always seem to find trouble.
As a four-year-old, Joey had spilled out a week’s worth of oats onto the muddy area by the barn door to make something he called “horse poo!” He also poured his Coke into Bor’s water trough because he felt sorry that Bor only had water to drink.
One time before a horse show at the Three County Fair, Angela plaited Marzipan’s forelock so tightly, the poor thing was cross-eyed with a headache for a week. Martha finally had to cut the forelock short because trying to unwind it would take too much time and hurt Marzipan even more.
Of course, Mrs. Angotti blamed us for everything. She said we should have had a proper lock on the oats. Bor’s stall should have been out of the reach of children. And she was apoplectic—Mom’s word, but I love it and even learned to spell it—when Martha “damaged Marzipan forever by cutting off her hair.”
“Somebody explain to her that that hair grows back,” Martha muttered as she walked away. “I can’t be bothered.”
But now Agora was practically growling. If Agora was upset about one of the Angottis, the problem had to be dealt with—and fast.
So, in the quarantine suit and mask, I went to the doorway of the stall, lifted the shade over the window, and peeked out.
Sure enough, there was Joey sneaking down the corridor. I opened the stall door, then closed and locked it behind me. In my surgical gear—now a bit dirty from sitting on the floor—I gave him quite a fright.
“Jeez Louise,” he said, “who are you?”
I took the mask off. “It’s me, Arianna. And why are you here? Haven’t you been told this part of the barn’s off-limits?”
“What does that mean?” He actually looked innocent saying that, which made me wonder.
“It means you’re not allowed here. Not for any reason at all. We’ve got sick horses that you just can’t be around.”
“Whatcha dressed like that for?” His nose wrinkled as if he’d smelled something awful.
I pointed to the two signs, the one that said QUARITINE in Martha’s block writing and the poster board where it was spelled right.
“What does that mean?” He went up close to the signs and sounded out the words, pronouncing them wrong. “Quart-een.”
“It means no one goes in or out without the proper clothes and proper mask.”
“I could do that.”
I had to think of something to really discourage him. “And you have to take a special bath with carbolic soap that stings something fierce and raises prickles all over your body.”
“Eeeeeew,” he said.
“Because,” and now I was really getting into it, “while we think what the horses have isn’t catching, the vet says we’ve got to be super careful. You know, people catching a horse sickness wouldn’t be pretty. In fact, it could actually be…” I stopped, looked around as if making sure no one was listening, leaned toward him, and whispered, “Life threatening.”
For the first time he seemed uncertain. “Which horses? I hope it’s not Bor.”
Bor was his favorite.
Bor didn’t think much of Joey.
“Agora and her new foal.”
“She’s not a horse. She’s a pony,” he said, as if that made her worthless.
This wasn’t the time to argue with him. Besides, arguing with an Angotti is like arguing with a pack of mules, or so Martha says. “Only without having a two-by-four handy.”
“Can I see from out here?” Joey said. “I won’t touch anything.”
“No, you can’t.”
He made a face.
“I mean it, Joey.” I may be one of the shortest kids in my class, but I’m a good foot taller than Joey, who’s only in third grade.
He shrugged and walked back the way he came.
I should have been suspicious when he gave up that easily, but I was just relieved he’d gone. As soon as he turned the corner, I went back into Agora’s stall.
Just as I sat down, I heard a noise at the door, and the blinds twitched.
“Jeeze Louise!”
I looked at Joey’s face peering through the blinds and jumped between Agora and his sightline, hoping I’d been fast enough. Then I stomped up to the door, opened it a crack, and sidled outside.
Grabbing Joey by the arm, I yanked him away from the door.
“What did you see,” I demanded. “What did you see?”
He looked up at me, eyes wide with fright. “You weren’t wearing your mask in there,” he whimpered. “And then you came out here and touched me. Am I going to get what they have? Am I gonna have prickles all over my body? Am I gonna die?” He started to wail, though tears never actually came into his eyes.
I gave him a push toward the end of the corridor. “Get out! Go away!” I shouted. “Or I’ll tell your mother on you. In fact, I might just tell her anyway!” I screamed the last word. And I shook my fist at him.
He ran around the corner and this time was gone for good.
I was shaking so hard, I thought I might throw up. I ran back to the stall window and twitched the blind to see what Joey might have seen.
Agora was now on her side, her big bottom mounded up. Behind her Kai was still fast asleep. The only parts of him showing were his little hind legs, which stuck out beyond hers.
Going back into the stall, my legs wobbled even more than Kai’s had ever done, only mine were wobbling from fright
. If Joey or any of the Angottis hurt Kai, I knew I’d … I’d … but I couldn’t think what I could do. I simply locked the door from the inside, then sat down to look at Agora and Kai as they slept. My mind was a blank until I remembered how strong Kai’s hug had been.
“Just give us a few more days,” I said, a kind of prayer. I knew as a good Quaker, one shouldn’t pray for special gifts but rather pledge to do something special for someone else, something hard. But this was for someone else, I reasoned. It was for Kai.
I didn’t want to wait till Mom came for me. Standing, I said to Robbie, “I’m going to lock you in with Agora and Kai and go tell Mom what just happened.”
“What happened?” he said. “What?”
“Joey Angotti happened,” I said. “Kai was almost seen.”
“That’s not good,” he said. “Lock me in, skipper.”
I ran out of the stall and locked it, pocketing the key.
As I rounded the side of the barn, I placed the mask over my mouth again and started shouting. “Mom, Mom, Joey was just—”
Mrs. Angotti took one look at me, then shouted at her kids, “Get back in the car and don’t let me hear a word from either one of you until we’re down the road.”
Joey jumped in the back seat, but Angela was a bit slower on the uptake, though she wasn’t far behind. Then Mrs. Angotti got in on the driver’s side, started the car, reversed it, and they drove away in a spray of gravel.
As they went around the first curve and disappeared from sight, Mom turned. She was wiping her eyes.
I ran to her and put my arms around her. “What’s wrong—what did she say? Was it awful?”
“Lord, you’re an amazing daughter,” Mom said. “Sometimes I think you’re older than I am. You’re certainly smarter. But not this time.”
Then I realized she was laughing.
“The expression on Mrs. Angotti’s face when you came out in your…” Mom began laughing again and wiping her eyes. Then she turned serious. “We have a lot to do. But, Lord! I needed that laugh.”
“About time,” Martha said, as she came out of the other side of the barn. Evidently, she’d heard the whole thing and she spit the two words out like bullets after their departing car. Then she added, “Ya think she’ll come back for her two horses?”
We all walked back to Agora’s stall together.
“Well, we never liked them anyway,” I said.
“That’s not the issue, Ari.” Mom shook her head. “Nor a very Quakerly thing to say. The Angottis have been loyal to us when they could have gone elsewhere. And they have lots of cousins, some of whom have been promising to come riding. We need every boarder and rider we have, and we really need to keep them whether we like them or not. They pay the bills.”
I knocked on the door. “Robbie,” I said, “it’s me and Mom and Martha.” Then I opened the door and peered in.
Just then Kai awoke, made a funny little sound, and started to stand. Agora headed right over to nuzzle him.
He must have grown in his sleep because he was already close to Agora’s size. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she noticed, she didn’t seem to mind.
I heard Mom draw in a quick breath. And Martha said, “That’s no growth spurt, that’s a growth geyser!”
“What’s a geyser?” Robbie asked.
“An upside-down waterfall, pipsqueak,” Martha said.
“But waterfalls can’t fall up.”
“We’ve named him,” I said, partly to change the subject, partly to get back into the conversation. “Chiron. He was the good centaur, a teacher, in the Greek myths. But that’s too long and hard a name for our little guy, so Robbie suggested calling him Kai. Pony boy seems to like it.”
“Robbie told me.”
“Oh.” So much for my surprise. “Do you like it?”
“Well,” Mom joked, “if it’s a myth-stake, it’s a good one!”
“Myth-stake?” I repeated and then, all of a sudden, I snorted through my nose.
Mom put her hand to her mouth and began to giggle uncontrollably, and I got the giggles as well. We went on like that for almost a minute, before she took a deep breath and picked a piece of straw from Kai’s long tendrils of hair.
He smiled at her, which made him look like one of the old paintings from the Greek myth book. “Tank, Mom.”
“Thank you, Mom,” she said.
“Thank you, Mom,” he repeated. I knew he wouldn’t forget how to say it now.
“We need to get a brush through this mop, Ari.”
That’s when I felt things would be all right, with or without the Angottis, because Mom and I were laughing together and talking about regular stuff and accepting the magic, too.
But I was wrong.
8
Uncovered Story
FOR ABOUT A WEEK MORE, THE COVER STORY HELD. No one but us dared go near the quarantine stall, even after all the riders returned.
Well, not all—the Angottis stayed home, leaving a friend—who also boarded her gelding at our stable—to comb and curry and feed their horse, plus change out the bedding and muck out her stall.
No one wanted me or Mom or Martha or even Dr. Herks near their horses. Just in case.
We had a swarm of vets come from as far away as Connecticut to check out the boarders’ horses. Sneakily, Dr. Herks managed to keep them away from Agora and Kai. I’m not sure what he told them. It had to be quite a spin on things because he couldn’t fool them with his diagnosis of Puericentaurcephal-whatsis. Still, whatever he said seemed to work, and for the time being, we all breathed a sigh of relief.
However, it quickly became clear that, sooner or later—and probably sooner—our boarders were going to take their horses elsewhere. And their kids were going to go elsewhere for lessons as well. Which would mean the farm would go broke, and we’d have to move. And … well, I couldn’t bear thinking about the rest.
By Thursday, the first of the riders who didn’t own their own horses began leaving. And Friday some of the owners came to collect their horses, including Patti and her dad, and she didn’t even come over to say good-bye. My standing at the end of Agora’s corridor in my quarantine suit, arms folded, mask on, might have had something to do with that, but she could have waved.
As far as the rest of them, well, as Mom said, “Some have been kind enough to let us know,” meaning they’d phoned before showing up to get their horses or their tack. Others simply never showed up again. Like Maddi and her mom, who just sent someone else for their horse and stuff.
We were down ten riders and five horses by Friday evening, not counting our own.
Through the weekend, we waved good-bye to about half of the other riders. Worried about the remaining horses not getting ridden enough, Martha made a schedule, and Mom and I took turns on solo trail rides. We couldn’t go together. Someone had to guard Kai. Someone besides Robbie, that is. He spent hours in Agora’s stall, playing simple games with Kai, reading to him, sometimes just sitting there with his arm around Kai’s neck, teaching him new words like brother, funny bone, carrots, and rain.
* * *
When we took the horses on the trail, they seemed more angry than upset, and startled at the smallest things. Bor almost unseated me, and in return, I was rough on his mouth, sawing with the reins, something I never did with him. Hera was so skittish, I had to turn her around and walk her home, letting her run free for about an hour in the paddock before conning her to go back into the barn, not with just one but two apples and a carrot, plus sugar as a sweetener.
Even I understood we couldn’t go on like this.
I caught Mom staring at herself in the hallway mirror, her right pointer finger touching the dark circles under her eyes. When I tried to put my arms around her, she shrugged me off. She held whispered conversations over the phone with Dr. Herks.
After three days of this, we all got snarky with one another, saying things we didn’t mean. I called Mom selfish, which she certainly wasn’t. Martha snapped out one-liners
as if she was shooting at moving targets. Mom told her to shut up and shape up, which worked for about an hour, and then Martha was at it again.
Robbie, normally the sunniest of us all, would cry and slam doors whenever he had to leave Kai. One door caught his wheelchair at a bad angle and tipped him over, which brought on even more tears and a trip to the doctor’s.
With Mom and Robbie at the doctor’s, I said something about being overprotective of him to Martha, who called me “a pony princess with neither the grace to be a princess nor the brains to be a pony.” I ran out of the barn rather than cry in front of her.
Martha found me an hour later in Agora’s stall, dressed in the quarantine suit but without the mask, and apologized in her strange way.
“You know,” she said, squinting at me, “you do have some grace, Ari. And I bet you’re just about as smart as a pony, especially in school. Just don’t be a smart aleck, that’s all.”
We nodded at each other, but there was little warmth in it.
Or forgiveness.
* * *
Martha and I still had to work together, since we shared most of the barn chores. Now that we had fewer horses and riders, those chores were lightened considerably.
Robbie did what he could, though honestly, he was in the way most of the time and cranky when any of us began to push him back to the house.
“My brother, my turn,” he’d protest, his face pinched and unhappy. I think it was more than that. He’d never had a friend before—except me—and he was possessive of that friendship in a fierce way.
One time he even turned in his chair as I was wheeling him out of the stall, reaching one of his shortened arms toward Kai. And Kai wailed back, trotting to the door to call out, “Robbie, come back. Now!”
I tried to argue Robbie out of his temper and his sadness, but Martha was tougher, giving him a stern warning. “If someone hears you whining, Squinch, the game’s up.”
“What game?”
“The quarantine game, kiddo. There are two little boys in the stall. Something won’t add up.”
After that, all she had to say if he got even slightly cranky was “game’s up, kiddo,” and he’d stop fussing.
Unfortunately, that never worked for me.