by Terri Farley
How could outsiders have a group? Darby took a breath to tell Duckie that didn’t make sense, but she was pretty sure her cousin didn’t want to hear logic, especially while she was trying to be nice.
Besides, Duckie had stopped just short of the locker room door to tense her arm and feel one of her own muscles. On a horse, that muscle would be her withers. Darby didn’t know what it was called on a human, but Duckie squeezed it with grave satisfaction.
Considering Duckie and horses in the same thought led Darby to wonder if Duckie was saying safety was with the herd.
“What?” Duckie asked, when she finally felt Darby watching.
“It’s just…,” Darby began. She looked into her cousin’s broad, rosy face and felt torn. She was grateful for Duckie’s advice. But she didn’t believe it. At least not for humans. “I kind of think all the groups are connected.”
Even though her cousin made a sound sort of like a bull, Darby would have explained, if Duckie hadn’t propelled her into the locker room with a push between her shoulder blades.
“I don’t know why I waste my time on you,” Duckie muttered.
By the time P.E. ended and Darby slipped into her desk in Algebra, she couldn’t contain her eagerness to see Hoku.
“Are you dying to see your horses?” she asked Ann.
“Absolutely,” Ann said. “I really need to work with Sugarfoot.”
“When do I get to meet him?” Darby pretended to whine.
“Not until our camping trip,” Ann said, but then she asked, “Jonah’s still cool with it, isn’t he?”
“I think so. It’s for a school assignment.”
“I just thought he might worry that the volcanoes would get restless,” Ann explained.
“He didn’t say anything.”
Ann rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, he might have had a few other things on his mind,” Darby admitted, but Jonah had been nice this morning, since the earthquake. Almost as if he’d never said Granddaughter, I wash my hands of you.
And yet, he hadn’t apologized, either.
“Coach Roffmore sure is late,” Darby said, glancing at the clock.
Ann shrugged, then asked, “Do you still want to take Hoku? From what you’ve told me, she’s pretty green, and it’s probably just a story, but some people say there are wild horses up there.”
“Yeah,” Darby said. “But if there’s another earthquake, she’s got to be with me.”
And I’ve got to be with her, Darby thought.
Just then a rustle went through the classroom and a man—who wasn’t Coach Roffmore—came through the door.
He announced that he was the coach’s substitute, then started writing a huge Algebra assignment on the board.
Ann’s hand shot up as soon as he’d finished.
“Can we please work in partners?” Ann asked, and Darby wondered how her friend managed to say it and still sound seriously studious.
The sub looked dubious, but he agreed.
Since Duckie wasn’t likely to hear her over the screech of desks being moved every which way, Darby confided her conversation with her cousin to Ann.
“So what do you think?” she asked finally.
“I don’t pay much attention to cliques,” Ann said. Then, opening her Algebra book, Ann touched an example in her book and looked expectantly at Darby. “What I think is, we should make a list of what food we’ll each bring for our trip, while we look totally mathematical.”
“Great idea,” Darby said, then whispered, “I guess I shouldn’t be taking social guidance from Duckie too seriously.”
“Hey, Cousin!”
Darby tried not to cringe as she swiveled in her desk, looking back at Duckie. She couldn’t possibly have heard.
No way.
Could she?
“Yes?” Darby hissed as if everyone else in the room wasn’t already listening.
“Just remember, people who live in grass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
Darby formed an “okay” sign with her fingers and gave a weak smile. If she had any idea what Duckie was talking about she’d know whether to be amused or afraid.
Chapter 8
“Did Mr. Silva give you an F?” Megan asked.
Since Miss Day had canceled soccer practice, they walked out of school together.
“No. But I have to get an A on that part of the project when we turn it in after break,” Darby said.
“Were you the only one who didn’t do it?” Megan asked.
“No, even—” Darby had been about to tell Megan that even Ann hadn’t done her part, but she just said, “Lots of people were going to do it this morning and they couldn’t because of the earthquake.”
“So why are you, like, hanging your head?” Megan asked.
Darby hadn’t realized she was, but Megan was probably right. She wasn’t used to being an irresponsible student, and the mistake had been bothering her all day.
“I guess school is harder here than it was…” Darby hesitated. She’d been about to say “back home,” but she couldn’t. Every day, ‘Iolani Ranch felt more like her real home.
“Or maybe you’ve got a life outside school,” Megan said. “It’s easy for nerds to get good grades, because all they do is study. No offense, because I know you used to be one, but it’s a lot bigger accomplishment if you get good grades when you’re doing chores, training horses—”
“And playing soccer,” Darby put in.
“I was talking about you, not me.”
“Maybe,” Darby said, but she was thinking that Megan—by talking about nerds—had slipped into that same categorizing thing that Duckie had done.
While they waited in front of the school for a ride home, Darby started to feel anxious about getting back to the ranch. She barely heard Megan talking about her excitement over the camping trip. “It used to be so much fun to lead the Boy Scouts through the lava tube with my dad,” Megan was saying, but Darby couldn’t concentrate on anything but her horse.
“Do you think Hoku stayed with the other horses?” she interrupted.
Megan looked a little miffed.
“Sorry,” Darby said, but Megan understood her worry.
“She was pretty scared, but there are older horses out there, which must be comforting to her.”
Darby nodded, picturing Hoku rubbing noses over her corral fence with Judge and the way, just yesterday, that Hoku had ignored the strangeness of the round pen to coax Navigator into some social scratching.
“Here comes Kimo!” Megan shrugged out of her backpack as the faded maroon Ram Charger swooped in to pick them up.
“Hey, girls.” Kimo leaned down to peer through the passenger-side window, then leaned across to open the door decorated with the ‘Iolani Ranch owl, so that they could climb in. “Been waitin’ long?”
Megan slid in first, and Darby was surprised when she kissed Kimo on each cheek, until she remembered that was exactly how Kimo had greeted her at the Hapuna Airport.
“Everything’s okay over at your place, then?” Megan asked as she fastened her seat belt, then cleared a clutter of CDs off the seat so that Darby could settle in.
“A few things cracked and snapped,” Kimo said, steering them back to the highway. “Mother Nature just helpin’ us with housekeeping.”
Megan sucked in a breath. “I never thought of that. Wow, I hope my mom stayed out of my stuff. She’s always saying, ‘That’s got to go.’ This could be her big excuse to throw things away.”
“So hey,” Kimo said, glancing at Darby. “When you two going holoholo with crazy Ann?”
Going holoholo meant “taking a pleasure trip,” so Darby pretended to be insulted.
“We’re going on our research trip.”
“Monday morning, early,” Megan told him. “The Potters are bringing a horse van to take us partway.” Megan danced to imaginary music, despite her seat belt and cramped position. Then she turned to Darby. “This is going to be so cool. And you’ll like Ann’s par
ents.”
“Good people,” Kimo agreed.
“I bet they are,” Darby said, but she still felt a little shy about meeting them.
Besides helping with the Ecology project, Ann’s dad had offered to start picking Darby up after school when he picked up Ann, on days that Megan had soccer practice. That way Darby could get right to the ranch.
Apparently the music in Megan’s head had come to an end, because she slouched back against her seat. After a few minutes, she turned to Kimo.
“You know who Darby met today? One of your neighbors.”
Was she talking about Tyson? Darby gave Megan a warning poke with her elbow.
“Ty?” Kimo asked. “He’s not a bad kid, but…”
“You’re the third person who’s said that!” Darby told him.
“Said…?” Kimo glanced away from the road at Darby.
“‘Tyson’s not a bad kid, but…’”
“Mo bettah I say however?” Kimo asked, straight-faced.
Darby laughed, then settled back in her seat. She hoped it was the end of the conversation. Megan had already made it too much of a big deal by yelling at the guy that morning.
But still she couldn’t let it go.
“He called her a haole crab,” Megan said.
Kimo made a disgusted sound.
“How bad is that?” Darby asked.
“Depends,” Kimo said. “There is such a thing, you know, a white crab. But Ty’s just got no sense. His parents are afraid he’s gonna get hurt.”
“He’s ambushing people all the time,” Megan explained to Darby. “Tourists who go hiking down into the valley or snorkling in kapu places.”
“Forbidden?” Darby asked.
“Not really,” Kimo told her. “Just off-limits, because he and his friends like to surf there.”
That didn’t sound so bad, Darby thought. The guy hiding inside his gray hoodie was probably just playacting at being tough.
They rode along in silence for a few minutes until Kimo said, “He doesn’t bother girls. Does he, Mekana?”
Kimo was one of the few people Megan allowed to call her by her Hawaiian name.
“Why are you asking me?” Megan shrugged as she twisted her long reddish-black hair up off her neck, holding it there so she wouldn’t be so hot.
“He don’t,” Kimo said emphatically, then reached over and gave Darby’s leg the same kind of pat he’d give a nine-hundred-pound horse. “You got nothin’ to worry about.”
Darby was leaning forward against her seat belt, eager to see Hoku, when she spotted the tan Land Rover ahead of them.
“Is that Jonah’s truck?”
“Yeah,” Kimo said. He glanced nervously at Megan.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it Mom?”
For a few seconds, Darby could have sworn she heard Megan’s heart beating, but then she realized it was her own.
“Jonah bullied her into seeing the doctor. ’Bout had to hog-tie her to get her loaded up.” Kimo’s forced humor didn’t stop Megan from turning pale. She released her hold on her hair and it tumbled down over her shoulders as she said, “Drive faster. Please.”
Kimo didn’t argue, but he accelerated only a little bit. His eyes met Darby’s and he seemed to be asking her to do something to calm Megan’s fear.
“It can’t be that bad,” Darby said, leaning her shoulder against her friend’s. “She just got hit by a can of pumpkin.”
“Yeah, and my dad just fell off a horse.”
Darby flinched. How could she have been so stupid? Of course Megan was reacting strongly to her mother’s trip to the doctor; her father had been dead only two years.
“I’m sorry,” Darby said. Megan just shook her head, but as the Ram Charger clanged over the cattle guard and into the ranch yard, she reached over and squeezed Darby’s hand.
As soon as Kimo pulled into the ranch driveway, Darby bailed out of the truck so that Megan wouldn’t have to climb over her.
Before she saw her grandfather or Aunty Cathy, Darby heard them quarreling.
“Jonah, please move out of my way. No, you are not carrying me!” Aunty Cathy’s blue shirt and brown-blond hair was just visible past Jonah, who helped her down from the truck.
Aunty Cathy had sidled away from Jonah, and began tucking her hair behind her ears, when Megan came at her.
“Mom!”
Closing her daughter in a hug, Aunty Cathy was quiet for a minute.
“Now you see?” Aunty Cathy demanded of Jonah, but she said it quietly, and she was still patting Megan’s back.
For an instant, Darby’s heart contracted, missing her own mother, but then she moved closer to Aunty Cathy and asked, “What did the doctor say?”
“She said that I was lucky to get just a bump on the head when a dozen people on this island broke arms and legs,” Aunty Cathy said pointedly.
Darby was pretty sure the sharp tone was aimed at Jonah, but he didn’t take the hint.
“The doctor said Catherine must take it easy, but we can’t let her sleep. We have to keep track of her level of consciousness—”
“Just as a precaution, and only for twenty-four hours—”
“But forty-eight hours would be better,” Jonah insisted.
“Wait,” Megan said, withdrawing from her mother’s hug to ask. “Level of consciousness? What exactly does that mean?”
Aunty Cathy put off answering by leaning down to rumple Peach’s ears. The Australian shepherd arranged himself over Aunty Cathy’s shoes, announcing he was on guard.
“Mom?”
“It just means to make sure I’m not acting loony,” Aunty Cathy explained, but she couldn’t joke away Megan’s concern.
“Why?” Megan turned to Jonah.
“She has a concussion and a bad headache,” Jonah told her.
“Can’t they give her pills for the pain?” Kimo’s question surprised them all, but his expression said he wasn’t about to go do chores until he was sure Cathy didn’t need his help.
“No,” Jonah said. “If the headache gets worse, it could mean she’s bleeding inside her skull.”
Megan moaned and Aunty Cathy glared at Jonah.
“Why did you have to say that?”
“Megan will be looking after you. She’s old enough to be told the truth,” Jonah said, and he didn’t sound a bit sorry.
“Thanks,” Megan said. Then she took a deep breath and said, “Come upstairs, Mom, and I’ll make you some tea.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Megan.” Aunty Cathy sounded like she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Peach made a concerned yodeling sound, but he didn’t move off her feet.
“She can have tea, can’t she?” Megan asked, ignoring her mother’s outburst.
“Sure,” Jonah said.
“Excuse me, Peach,” Aunty Cathy apologized as she displaced the dog.
Panting and wagging his tail uncertainly, Peach watched along with the rest of them as Megan prodded her mother up the stairs to their apartment.
“Yell if you need anything,” Jonah called, and behind her mother’s back, Megan’s fingers made an “okay” sign.
Darby was kind of aware that Jonah was headed toward Sun House. She sort of noticed Peach, nudging her hand so she’d stroke his head. But her mind was spinning with dark possibilities.
Was everything okay? Jonah had approved the overnight trip to Two Sisters because he trusted Megan’s skill on the volcanic slopes. Megan knew Two Sisters’ beauties, dangers, and history.
Her grandfather said Megan was the best guide two mainland girls like Ann and Darby could have.
Without meaning to, Darby counted the hours Megan had to sit at her mother’s bedside. Twenty-four or forty-eight, Jonah had said. Today was Friday. The Potters would arrive with the horse van on Monday. None of their plans had to change.
Trying not to worry, Darby shrugged and scuffed her feet in the dirt. Peach pawed at them, playing as if Darby had paws, too.
&nbs
p; “Knowing Aunty Cathy, she won’t stay in bed half that long,” Darby told the dog. “Unless…”
Shut up, Darby ordered herself.
Don’t imagine a single thing that could go wrong. Megan only had one parent. That was unfair enough.
Peach barked and Darby looked up.
A plane popped out of a cloud and kept flying.
Above those clouds, hidden by blue sky, the stars watched her fussing and fretting. If Jonah was right and stars were the eyes of heaven, they already knew what Monday would bring.
So there was no sense worrying about it.
“Everything will be fine,” she told Peach. “And that’s that.”
Chapter 9
Darby followed Jonah into Sun House, where he stood sorting through some mail.
The kitchen smelled like Thanksgiving and it only took Darby one glance to see why.
True to her word, Aunty Cathy had taught the can of pumpkin the meaning of payback.
Two pies and four loaves of pumpkin bread sat on the kitchen counter.
Darby glanced at the kitchen clock. Both hands were straight up, but it was neither noon nor midnight.
Jonah looked up from the mail.
“The power’s been coming and going all day,” he said when he noticed her frown.
“And the phone?” Darby asked.
“Off and on.”
Darby dialed her mother’s cell phone number anyway. As she waited through clicking and a sound like someone rubbing a blanket on a microphone, Darby looked at the yellow sticky notes Aunty Cathy had used to label the loaves of pumpkin bread, one each for Kimo, Kit, Cade, and Tutu. She must have baked them before she agreed to go to the doctor.
A high-pitched beep made Darby hang up the phone. Suddenly she remembered Jonah had been riding away from the ranch when she’d left for school that morning.
“Was Tutu okay when you…?” Darby’s voice trailed off. Jonah stopped squinting at the mail to meet her eyes. He looked years older than he had yesterday. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jonah asked. An irritated frown replaced the lines of exhaustion on his face. “Other than checking on your tutu—who laughed at all the excitement over the quake”—he put in with a wry smile—“I haven’t done anything all day except pick up junk and drive that stubborn woman back and forth to town.”