Charlie Franks is A-OK

by Cecily Anne Paterson

  ‘I got it wrong,’ I said to myself. Again, out loud, because it matters that way. ‘This is what’s right.’

  The phone rang. The signal must have been fixed at the tower. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and ran in to hear Tessa’s voice on the other end.

  ‘So is it true you named her?’ she asked, super-fast and excited. ‘Was the whole birth thing gross? I was asking Mum, but she didn’t say much. Did you faint? Could you even watch? Did you see everything—? Like, you know, everything?’

  ‘It was cool.’ I smiled back at her down the phone line. ‘And I didn’t faint at all. And yeah, Faith. I named her, and she’s amazing.’

  She asked more questions and I gave more answers (yes, Mum was screaming; no, there wasn’t blood all over the floor, and yes, goo and gross stuff. But then again, Tessa says she wants to be a nurse—if she can handle it, she says—so she likes to find out about the gory bits).

  ‘Is she coming home soon?’

  ‘I guess so. About four. They left a note for me.’ I looked at the clock. It was only ten past two.

  Tessa’s voice got excited again. ‘So do you want to come and train today? Mum and I are doing some riding. Inter-schools is only five days away. You could come down and do some rounds on Cupcake. She’s here anyway, so you might as well.’

  Around me, the air seemed to go still, like the earth was taking a pause from turning. It was a moment of decision; I could almost see my choices suspended in front of my eyes. Go riding. Or don’t.

  ‘You know what?’ My voice was firm. ‘I don’t really want to. But thanks.’

  I spent the two hours, plus a bit more—they were late—cleaning, patting Mika and Fozzles, and lying on the floor in Faith’s room, learning every inch of every wall and every spot of the giraffe in the painting.

  Finally, I heard the low growl of the diesel engine coming down the drive, and the familiar sounds of the car being pulled up outside. I ran to the front door and down the steps, and pulled open Mum’s door.

  ‘Sweetie!’ She gave me a hug with both arms. It felt like her hugs used to feel; firm, warm and comfortable.

  ‘You’re back.’ I grinned at her.

  ‘A-OK?’

  ‘Double A-OK. How’s Faith?’ I stuck my head over the seat so I could see in the back. ‘Oh, so cute.’ Fizz was dressed in a pink one-piece suit, with a little hat to match. Her eyes were closed and she seemed almost too small for the baby capsule she was in.

  ‘I’ll bring her in.’ Dad had to show me how to unclip the capsule (it was tricky) but we managed. I tried to carry her so that the capsule didn’t move at all, but then I relaxed. A little bit of rocking had to be good for babies, right? I mean, they get rocked around for nine months in their mum’s tummies. They’d be used to it.

  After the hustle and bustle of getting bags out and the slamming of car doors, all of us were in the lounge room, sitting around, just looking at this baby, Faith, who had somehow just arrived out of nowhere, to be part of our family. Six faces—two older and (presumably) wiser, three of us teenagers, all so different, and one tiny one, pink and round, perfectly innocent.

  ‘Were they sure she was okay to come home?’ I asked. ‘Because she’s four weeks early and everything.’

  ‘They did heaps of checking,’ said Dad. ‘She’s feeding really well. They’ll send out someone every day for two weeks to check on her too.’

  ‘Good,’ I said to Faith, making big eyes and a relieved face. ‘You’re a clever girl, aren’t you?’

  ‘There’s lasagne in the freezer, Coco,’ said Mum. ‘Can you and Josh get it out and make some salad? We’ll have it for dinner as soon as it’s ready. I’m so hungry.’

  ‘Tea?’ I offered, tearing myself away from Faith’s gorgeousness. ‘And a cracker while you’re waiting?’

  ‘I could really use a coffee,’ she said, and I smiled.

  ‘Coming right up.’

  We had dinner on the deck, with Faith sleeping in her capsule nearby, and then, when she stirred, Mum got up. ‘I’ll feed her on my bed, and then I’ll head to bed myself. While the baby sleeps, I should sleep too. I’ll be up later in the night.’

  Dad started to pick up Faith as Mum got up, but I took her from his arms. ‘I’ll do it.’

  I followed Mum into her room and watched as she settled Faith into a feeding position. I lay down beside them, propped up on one elbow.

  ‘Ness called by this morning,’ said Mum. ‘I thanked her again.’

  ‘She was great yesterday. I don’t know what I would have done if it had just been me.’

  ‘Well, we wouldn’t have had her here without what you did.’

  I smiled at her and she grinned back.

  ‘She said the Inter-schools event is in five days. I’d forgotten it was so close. I think everything’s just kind of jumbled up my brain. Did you go down to train with Tessa and her this afternoon?’

  ‘No, I’ve decided not to do it anymore.’

  Her face flashed from normal to shocked in about a millisecond. ‘What? Not ride anymore?’

  ‘No. I mean, of course I’ll ride.’ I made a face at her like, ‘don’t be silly’. ‘It’s just the events. I’m giving up show jumping. After today, it doesn’t seem important. I’d rather be at home with Faith and Mika.’

  Mum looked down at Faith for a moment, who was guzzling so loud that I could hear her. Obviously learning good eating manners kicks in at a later age. She looked up again. ‘That’s sweet, but I think you’re wrong.’

  Now it was my turn to look shocked.

  ‘Yes, family’s important,’ Mum said. ‘Babies are important. And they’re gorgeous, but you still need to do all the other things of life.’

  ‘But I don’t care about it anymore.’ My voice sounded whiny. ‘All I wanted to do was win before, and now I don’t mind if Baylor wins everything.’ It was true. Baylor winning all the blue ribbons and the Champion ribbons actually seemed like a pretty good option to me. I was so happy with my Mum and my baby sister, and Mika and Fozzles, and yes, with all the others—Coco and Josh and Dad, that all I wanted was for everyone else to be happy too.

  ‘That may be so right now,’ Mum said. Her voice was serious. ‘But when have you ever quit anything?’

  ‘I’m not a quitter.’ I sat up on the bed, defensive. ‘Anyway, this isn’t quitting. This is deciding to stay home. Higher priorities.’

  Mum sat up too, gathering Faith in her arms to keep her feeding. ‘Take a day. Really think about this. Maybe you don’t feel as competitive as you did. But you’re talented and you’ve got potential, and you’ll be wasting it if you don’t at least try.’ She smiled. ‘And if that doesn’t make you do it, think of me. I’ve missed all your events, but I’ll definitely be coming to this one. Faith and I want to see you ride. And win.’

  25

  Chapter 25

  All night I thought I wouldn’t go to the event. I even dreamed about not going. Then, in the morning, I changed my mind. The day was so shiny and perfect, the horses looked so great, and I thought of Faith. How cool would it be for her to see a horse event at a week old? I’d do it for her.

  So I started training again. Cupcake and I jumped and trotted and cantered, and practiced getting clear rounds for five straight days. At school, Coco and I showed off pictures of Faith to the girls, so they could ooh and aah and goo and gaa. In the afternoon I trained with Tessa and Ness and at night I scrambled out as little homework as I could get away with, and held Faith, so Mum could have a rest.

  Coco’s new obsession was Faith’s outfits. She was getting up early in the morning (for Coco) and laying out different jumpsuits and headbands and little tiny skirts for her, with strict instructions for Mum to only dress her in the chosen clothes for the day.

  The fact that Faith chucked up her milk and dribbled and generally made baby-type messes only made Coco happier. ‘She gets to change, like five times a day,’ she said the first day, when she realised that the morning outfit she’d d
ressed her in was different from the clothes she was wearing on our return home from school. ‘There are so many possibilities, now.’

  I didn’t care what little Fizz wore. I just liked to sit with her, out on the deck, or even take her for a little walk around the farm, not too far from the house, showing her things. ‘That’s a sunset. There’s the grass. Can you hear the kookaburras? And this is the smell of jasmine. Take a sniff.’

  ‘Are you sure she can come to the event?’ I asked Mum all week. ‘It’s not too early for her to go out?’

  ‘She’s going to be fine.’ Even with broken sleep, Mum seemed almost as energetic as she’d been before she got pregnant. ‘It helps to not be throwing up every hour,’ she’d told us the third day, when we kept telling her to go and have a nap. ‘I feel like a new woman.’ Now she scruffled my hair. ‘We can’t wait to come.’

  It used to be that having Mum at a race kept my nerves away, but this time, the promise of her turning up with Fizzy was making me crazy. Even though Cupcake was jumping well and Ness was really pleased, the night before the event, I felt like my stomach was going nuts. Butterflies, with outboard motors attached to them, were buzzing inside me, giving me the jitters.

  And my thoughts were all over the place; I didn’t want to do it, but I really, really wanted to do it. I didn’t much care about winning, but I wanted to do my best for Faith. And not caring about winning was so crazy-weird for me, Charlie Franks, who’s wanted to win everything my whole life, that I was extra-worried about that too. Would I be able to keep my focus or would I just fall apart?

  The one thing I wasn’t nervous about was Baylor, surprisingly. If being mean was the way she knew how to be competitive, I was sorry for her, and that was all. If she wanted to steal my Champion ribbon for whatever reason, I figured she must have really needed it. It was only a bit of coloured felt, after all. I could spare it.

  I smiled to myself. A month ago, if you’d told me I’d think about it like that, I’d have said you were crazy. But Faith hadn’t been born then. And poor Baylor would probably never, ever get to have a baby sister, let alone ride through a storm for her or be there at her birth. If Baylor was going to beat me on the day, so be it. I didn’t have a problem with it anymore.

  Coco, however, didn’t feel the same way. She bounced into my room the night before the event with a shopping bag in her hands. ‘It’s a present. Unwrapped, sorry.’ She looked slightly awkward, but also pleased with herself. ‘It’s because I’m not coming with you. You’re still okay with that, right?’

  I nodded. ‘We’re going to be okay, Cupcake and I. And I know it’s not your thing.’ I eyed the bag. ‘What is this about?’

  She handed it to me and smiled. A great, big, wide smile. ‘You don’t just have to beat Baylor in the arena, you know.’

  I gave her an odd look. The bag felt soft, like it had material in it. Clothes? ‘Where did you get these?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I bought them, obviously.’

  ‘But you never have any money.’

  ‘That’s what you think.’ She grinned again and jumped and down. ‘Open it.’

  I put my hand in the bag and pulled out a beautifully folded, brand new pair of white jodhpurs and a crisp, white shirt. And chaps. Soft, black leather chaps that felt like butter under my fingers.

  ‘Oh!’ I laid them on the bed and looked at them. ‘You’re right,’ I said, without even thinking.

  ‘Right about what?’ Coco landed on the bed next to the shirt and looked up at me with a cheeky grin.

  ‘Nothing. I mean …’ I couldn’t finish what I wanted to say. Instead, I just sat there and looked at the clothes and at my sister, who I’d laughed at so many times just because she liked clothes. And now, with this outfit in front of me, I understood. Sure, I probably wasn’t ever going to lay out six different styles to choose from just to make sure I was dressed exactly right to go out to dinner, but, for maybe the first time in my life, I got it. A great outfit made a difference.

  ‘That is so nice of you.’ I hugged her. ‘So, so kind.’ I wiped my eyes without her seeing me. A stray tear was sneaking out and there was no way I was going to give Coco that particular satisfaction. ‘I can’t even—’

  ‘Try them on,’ she urged, so I did.

  Once again, I was amazed. If I ever write my memoirs, it’s going to be called Charlie Franks gets the biggest surprise of her life, in fact, lots of surprises, over and over again. It was true. In the mirror I saw a girl who was strong and confident about winning, but also about not winning. I had never realised that could be a thing.

  The morning came too quickly, or maybe I just didn’t sleep that well, thinking about everything and anything, but at five am I pulled myself out of bed, tromped outside across dewy grass in the cool morning fog, and set to work getting Cupcake ready under the shelter.

  ‘Big day, today. You and me.’ Mika nuzzled at my hand and Fozzles called her away. ‘It’s okay, there’s always time for that.’

  Cupcake and I went in the float with Ness and Tessa, who eyed off my new outfit. ‘Nice,’ she said. ‘And your chaps. So gorgeous. Where’d you get them?’

  ‘Coco bought everything.’ I did a little twirl. ‘Like?’

  ‘Like a lot.’ She almost looked envious. ‘Coco chooses really nice things.’

  I thought about it for a second and then agreed. ‘Yes, she does.’

  Mum and Fizz were coming later, driving down together with Dad, who said he had some kind of business at a rural supplies shop near the equestrian centre, but who, I suspected, just wanted to make sure Mum wasn’t going to crash the car from lack of sleep from being up with the baby. He’d tried to make her stay home, but she’d been insistent.

  ‘This is a big event for Charlie. And I haven’t been to any of her events all year, so Fizz and I are definitely going. Even if I have to nap in the car in the afternoon.’

  When we arrived at the equestrian centre, Ness parked and Tessa and I got out the horses and set them up with what they needed. I looked around nervously. It was different from a show; there were tents and camping stuff set up off to the side, heaps of people, and loads more official-looking jackets. Everywhere I looked there were groups of kids—kids laughing, walking together, riding together. Kids and horses, kids and parents, kids and food. There were stalls for the horses, sand arenas for dressage marked out with letters, and, as far as I could see, grass arenas, cordoned off with bunting.

  Some of the riders were already starting warm-ups. They looked good, with nice form and great-looking horses. I shivered with nerves but told myself it was a useful thing. Mum would be there soon and as she always said, a bit of adrenaline is awesome for helping you focus. That’s what she used to tell me at athletic meets, anyway. It helped me get through the times before the races when I’d wanted to either run away or throw up.

  Tessa and I were doing a lap of the area, checking everything out, when I spotted Baylor at the fence line. She didn’t look like she wanted to throw up at all. Every bit of the ‘I’m better than you’ classic Baylor facial expression was out in force, but then she moved her hand to scratch her arm and I could tell from the fumbling way she did it that she actually was human after all, and was feeling nerves. Poor thing.

  ‘Wait a sec, Tessa.’ I walked over to say hello.

  ‘Hey,’ I said to Baylor. ‘I hope you do well today.’ I gave her a smile. ‘I’m sure you will.’

  A small but strong look of confusion passed over her face. She moved her eyebrows slightly, but then seemed to pull herself together and stand tall again. ‘Thanks,’ she said, a little stiffly, but I wasn’t offended. I just shrugged a little, smiled and started back to Tessa.

  ‘Charlie?’

  Baylor’s voice called out from behind me. I turned in surprise, and saw her fumbling with her bag.

  ‘Yes?’

  She took a step towards me, pulling something out of it as she did. Something gold and purple. Something made of felt. Something with
black letters on it.

  My Champion ribbon.

  She held it out to me.

  I stood still, almost frozen, holding my breath.

  ‘I think this might be yours. I found it a while ago. I keep forgetting to give it back.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  I held out my hand for it, and she put it across my fingers. ‘Sorry.’

  A second passed, and then I said, ‘That’s okay.’ I looked down at the ribbon, and then up at Baylor, who somehow seemed smaller. ‘Thank you.’ I smiled at her, and meant it, and she seemed relieved somehow, like I’d said something else; something to take whatever guilt she had away. Whatever guilt it was, I didn’t mind. I was glad to have the ribbon back, but I didn’t need it anymore.

  I turned back to Tessa and walked on with her to Cupcake and the other horses.

  ‘Do you think she really did, you know, steal it?’ whispered Tessa once we were out of earshot.

  ‘I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter now.’ I folded it up and tucked it in a pocket of my backpack.

  Soon Mum and Faith arrived with bags and camp chairs, dropped off by Dad, who said he’d be back soon, he just had to duck out for a bit. Mum rolled her eyes and grinned. ‘He just can’t drive past those rural supplies stores. He has to go in and check them out, even though they all seem the same to me.’

  ‘Over here in the shade?’ I suggested, taking the chairs from her and setting them up against a fence line. ‘You should be able to see everything.’ I scanned the view; the paths, leading up to the stands and the canteen, and the arena, where there were already horses waiting for their round. The younger age groups were getting started. Primary school kids, according to the announcer on the microphone.

  In the distance, I saw a palomino enter out into the arena, a small girl on its back. They jumped, circled and rounded the corners to jump again. It was a clear round, and I clapped as the palomino moved out of the ground. I followed it with my eyes and saw an older boy in a hat giving the girl rider a high five.