Haunted

by Alexandra Inger

  “Really?” My eyes must have lit up.

  “Yeah.” She got a wily look in her eyes as she sized me up. “In fact we could even do a deal. If you’re interested in shoveling manure, maybe I could give you lessons in exchange.”

  “Are you serious? I would love that!” I replied.

  “Alright. Meet me in the stables at six o’clock Monday morning. My horse is a chestnut named Athena. You’ll see her name over the stall.”

  “Okay, great! Thank you so much!”

  And I was so happy I practically skipped all the way back to my room.

  CHAPTER 20

  My alarm went off all too soon on Monday. Margie cursed at me and I shut it off quickly. My body didn’t want to get out of bed yet, but I reminded myself why I was doing it and the anticipation helped me to lift myself up and throw the covers off of me.

  I dressed quickly – and warmly – the late September mornings were becoming quite sharp. My feet barely touched the ground as I made my way down the hall. At least at this early hour I had no fear of running into Cheryl. As I made my way towards the back of the school grounds I noted that I could see my breath and it made me shiver.

  I entered the stables hesitantly.

  “Hello?” I called out. But there was no response.

  I walked slowly towards the back of the stables. Each horse had his or her name on a plaque next to their stall. There was a Geronimo, a Daisy May, an Alice, a Licorice, and on my right I saw Athena!

  I quietly approached her. She was beautiful. She had a blanket on but from what I could see her coat was like liquid burnished gold.

  “Hey, girl,” I said soothingly as I reached out to rub her nose.

  She remained still but eyed me quietly.

  “You’re a beauty,” I cooed and she flicked her head up and tried to nibble my fingers. I was delighted.

  “Sorry, girl, I don’t have any carrots for you!” I said.

  “Ah! You’ve made friends already, I see!” Andrea said as she strode in.

  “She’s magnificent!” I gushed.

  “Thank you!” Andrea beamed. “I’m going to take her out for a quick ride. I’ll bring her out to saddle her up – you can watch while I’m doing that, and then while we’re gone you can get to work mucking out. You’re okay with that?”

  “Yeah, no problem!” I replied.

  “Okay great,” Andrea said as she led the great beast out of the stall.

  “We need to brush her first before we can get her tacked up. I’ll let you do that while I go get the saddle.”

  Andrea pulled the blanket off and began brushing. “Start from the top like this, and make long strokes downwards,” she demonstrated. “Think you can do that?”

  “Yeah,” I smiled at Athena and pressed my left palm into her as I took the brush from Andrea. I began just as she showed me, with long strokes at the neck and then I worked my way down her flanks.

  “Good. Perfect. You’re a natural!” Andrea smiled at me. “Keep your hands on her as you move around the back so that she knows where you’re going!”

  “Got it,” I said as I stroked her with the brush.

  She was enormous yet gentle. Full of primitive life force. I felt so privileged that she was allowing me to brush her like this. At any second she could rear up and trample me or kick me or kill me in any one of a hundred ways and yet I had no fear at all. But respect! I had an infinite amount of respect for her and she could feel it.

  “Alright, this is the saddle pad. You put it on up on their neck and then pull it down around the withers. That’s kinda like her shoulders – the highest part of her back,” Andrea explained as she threw the pad up. “Then we put the saddle on and secure it to the pad,” she said as she did just that. She fiddled with the little Velcro straps and I got the sense that she could do it blindfolded if necessary. “Now this is called a martingale. It keeps her from tossing her head up and smacking the rider – me!” Andrea took a padded strap and buckled it to one side of the saddle. Then she made her way around the front of Athena and hitched it up to the other side from underneath her. “Now I’m going to go back around and tighten it up. What happens is, she expands her belly to keep the saddle from being too tight, so when she goes back to normal the saddle is too loose! Not good. So you always want to check that. I’ll let you do up to this part tomorrow,” she informed me.

  “The next bit is a little trickier. I’m going to take off her halter and replace it with the bridle,” she explained.

  When she was finished, she slipped the reins through the loops of the martingale and said, “Voila! All tacked up and ready to go!”

  “Wow! You’ve been riding for a long time,” I observed.

  “Since I was a little girl. Now, we’re going to go for our morning walk in the woods! You’ll find a pitchfork and a wheelbarrow over there in the corner. Pile the clean bedding up into a corner and use the pitchfork to remove any manure you find and load it into the wheelbarrow. Keep putting the clean stuff in the corner and look for wet stuff underneath. When you’ve taken all the soiled bedding out and piled up all the clean stuff in the corner, leave it and wait for any wet spots on the concrete underneath to dry. See you in about half an hour!” She expertly mounted the horse in one quick motion and waved from atop of Athena as the horse walked slowly out of the stables.

  I was so enchanted that I didn’t even mind the smell of the manure. Thank god I had had that falling out with Cheryl or I wouldn’t have had the courage (or desperation) to talk to Andrea! I hoped this was going to be the start of a real, true friendship. And maybe if I was lucky I could convince my parents to get me a horse for Christmas!

  By the time Andrea returned, I had broken a sweat and was developing blisters on my hands. I had gone through all the straw as thoroughly as I could and felt that it was as clean as could be. The wheelbarrow was overflowing with it.

  “Not bad for your first time!” she said as she surveyed my work.

  “I’ll take the wheelbarrow,” she said as she maneuvered it away to dump it, “and get some clean bedding to replace what you just took out.”

  “Where’s Athena?” I asked, bewildered.

  “She’s outside, in the enclosure out back! I’ll let her graze until we finish here,” Andrea replied.

  She came back towards me with two small bales of straw that we broke up and mixed in with the existing stuff.

  “Perfect!” she cried. “Come out with me and you can help me lead her back in.”

  We headed out around the back of the stables to see Athena grazing peacefully, breath steaming in the crisp autumn air. She was lit by the dawn and framed by the woods behind her which were just beginning to show their fall colors. I sighed happily.

  “How beautiful! This is how you start your day everyday?” I asked Andrea.

  “Most of them, yeah. I love it. I couldn’t live without it, in fact. You’ll notice nobody else is here – I think I’m the only one who gets up to ride before classes. And I’m glad. I love the peace and the quiet and the feeling like I have the whole world to myself. It’s very grounding,” she explained.

  “I can see that,” I nodded. And then suddenly I asked, “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here? I don’t want to intrude…”

  “No, it’s fine,” she shook her head, “I love to share my passion for riding with other people. I don’t have a lot of friends because I guess I talk about horses too much. Even the other girls here with horses aren’t as into them as I am. Most of them just have them because they can, but mine’s the world to me.”

  “Well, thank you so much. I really appreciate it,” I said.

  “Here,” she reached into her coat pocket and took out an apple. “Give this to Athena and tell her what a good girl she is.”

  I took the apple and approached the horse with it. I guessed that she was accustomed to being given apples after a ride, for she wrapped her great gums around it and pulled it out of my hand and into her mouth. I stroked her on the nose and coo
ed in her ear as she noisily chomped away.

  “Now just put your hand on her bridle and start walking. She knows what to do. We have a routine,” Andrea instructed me.

  Athena obediently walked along side me as we took her back inside into her stall. Andrea latched up the gate and wiped her hands on her jeans and said, “And that’s it! That’s all I do with her in the morning. Now I still have time to run back to the dorm and have a quick shower and change into my uniform before class.”

  We began walking back towards the dorm together.

  “Where are you from?” I asked her, by way of making conversation.

  “Virginia. Horses are in my blood,” she answered.

  We walked the rest of the way in silence. It didn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest as it would have done with Cheryl or Lisa. I was enjoying listening to the morning chorus of the birds and I knew she was doing the same.

  As we rode up the elevator back to our floor she said, “So tomorrow? Same time, same place?”

  “Yes, definitely!” I said enthusiastically.

  “Cool. Have a great day.”

  I skipped down the hall to my room. Margie was only half-awake and stumbling around trying to get ready for school.

  “Where in the name of…” she started, but I cut her off.

  “I’m so sorry! I forgot to tell you! I got up this morning to meet Andrea Brown down at the stables!”

  “Well I hope it was to do a secret deal that involved the exchange of money for some really good drugs, otherwise I can’t understand why anyone would set their alarm for THAT TIME OF THE MORNING!” she crabbed at me.

  “No!” I laughed. “She’s going to teach me to ride! I went down this morning and met her horse and learned to muck out the stable – “

  “Oh. That’s what that smell is,” she crinkled her nose.

  “Aw, come on!” I giggled. “Really? Do I really smell horsey?”

  “Ugh! Oh gawd, I don’t know. I’m too tired to smell.”

  Suddenly my stomach dropped.

  “Oh my god. I just remembered.” I said as a cold, sick feeling overtook me.

  “What? What’s the matter?” Margie sounded concerned.

  “My first class this morning is English. With Cheryl,” I said grimly. I had managed to avoid her all weekend since the dance, but now I would have to face the inevitable.

  “Oh honey, don’t worry,” Margie clucked, “The worst she can do is say nasty things to you and give you dirty looks. So what? What does her opinion count to you?”

  “Well,” I admitted sheepishly, “I don’t like getting dirty looks and having nasty things said to me. In fact, I rather dread the thought!”

  “Catherine,” Margie looked at me toughly now. “The girl is a mean bitch. That was one the very first things I ever said to you. Everybody knows it. Nobody will think less of you. You have to know that you’re good and she is a spoiled, selfish little princess who most people can’t stand, but they pretend to like her because they’re afraid of her. Sticks and stones, remember.”

  “I know. It’s easier said, though,” I moped.

  “Don’t worry. She’s never actually killed anyone.”

  I smiled half-heartedly.

  “Yet. That we know of,” she finished.

  “Oh stop!” I shrieked and threw the pillow from my bed across the room at her.

  Margie busted up laughing and tossed it back at me.

  “You’ll be fine. I know it,” she said.

  But I wasn’t so sure I believed her.

  My legs felt like jello as I forced myself to walk into the English classroom. My guts were alternately seizing up and churning with all the adrenaline that was pumping into them. I thought I might throw up.

  Cheryl wasn’t in class yet, thank heavens. I took my usual seat near the back and bent my head down over my notebook and began doodling very intently. I pulled the elastic out of my ponytail and let my hair fall in a curtain around my face so that I could easily avoid eye contact with the world.

  “Good morning, Catherine!” Cheryl’s voice sounded extra-saccharine sweet as she arrived at the desk right next to mine.

  My head jerked up and I looked at her with surprise. I had been caught off guard.

  “Good morning,” I tried to say as evenly as possible, but it was clear from my tone that I was perplexed and it came out sounding like I had put a question mark at the end.

  Cheryl was grinning broadly as she got her books out of her bag and arranged herself at her desk.

  She had something up her sleeve, I was sure of it. She was far too unnaturally chirpy, like she was making a show of how happy she was. I suppose I was just so relieved that she didn’t come in shooting daggers out of her eyes at me, or confronting me or insulting me in front of everyone that I decided to take her behavior at face value and count myself lucky.

  The class commenced with the teacher handing back our short answer questions. I was pleased to see I’d gotten an A on mine. Cheryl waved her paper at me with a B+ in red ink at the top. She mouthed the word “thanks” at me and flashed me a great big grin. At the end of class, we were assigned another round of short answer questions to be completed by the end of the week.

  “Hey – wanna help me out again?” She linked arms with me as we made our way out of the classroom and into the hallway.

  Ah! So that was her game. She might have been furiously angry at me for what had happened at the dance, but she was going to pretend not to be for the sake of her English grade. Although I could see that I was being completely used, I decided quickly to go along with it for the sake of keeping the peace.

  “Of course,” I smiled back at her.

  “Thank you soooooo much. You have no idea how much you’re helping me out,” she gushed.

  “It’s no trouble,” I shrugged. “I love the novel. I practically know it by heart. These questions are easy for me.”

  “Well, I totally owe you one. In fact, you can borrow my laptop again if you want!” she offered.

  “Really? Yes! I’d love to. It’s so much nicer to work in my own room than in the computer lab.”

  “You can borrow it anytime actually. Alright, see you later!” she trilled and she flounced off and away to her next class.

  The relief I felt was palpable. The adrenaline that had been torturing my guts all morning immediately evaporated and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was a small sacrifice to do her English homework for her if it would prevent a confrontation and keep Cheryl happy. I didn’t even care that her cheery attitude or displays of affection for me were fake. Nothing about her had ever been terribly sincere in the first place.

  I caught up with Chad later that day in Italian class.

  “Have you seen Cheryl at all since the dance?” he questioned me just before the start of class.

  “Yeah, actually. We have English together. She seemed fine. Not angry at me at all.”

  Chad gave me a strange look. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I know. Weird right? Especially after seeing me in your car.”

  “Is it too great a stretch to hope she’s grown up some in the past few weeks?” Chad asked rhetorically.

  “Well, the thing is that I’ve been helping her in English. A lot. The novel we’re studying right now is one of my favorites and I know it like the back of my hand. I think she’s trying to avoid having to read it at all, so she’s relying on me.”

  “Ah. That makes sense. But still, she wasn’t even a little mad? Cheryl’s ego is way more important to her than a passing grade in English,” he said.

  “Well, I hate conflict. Especially in public, so I’m glad. It’s fine by me. And like I said, the novel is my favorite book ever written in the history of books, so it’s not even like it feels like work to help her,” I said.

  “What’s the book?” he asked.

  “Jane Eyre,” I replied.

  “Ha! I should have guessed! Isn’t that like every smart girl’s favorite book?” he chuckled.


  “Well,” I smiled broadly at his compliment and felt myself coloring, “I can only speak for myself!”

  Then I remembered: “Oh hey! My column! It’s finished!” and I leant over to dig it out of my bag.

  “Oh great! I look forward to reading it,” he said as he took it from me and tucked it into his notebook.

  Our dialogue presentation went swimmingly – in fact the teacher made note of the fact that we were the most well-prepared in the class and said that our pronunciation and intonation was the best of everyone. Chad caught my eye and gave me a thumbs up. I beamed back at him.

  As we left class he nudged me in the ribs and said, “Ha – now you’re stuck! I’m going to insist that you help me every week. If I can get an A in this class it’ll keep my grade point average nice and high!”

  “You would have done fine on your own!” I protested with a laugh.

  “Maybe. But it sure doesn’t hurt to practice with someone. We’ll get together on the weekend again, alright?”

  “Oh, okay. Fine,” I answered nonchalantly and he winked at me and was gone.

  I felt a little bit guilty. Italian was my thing with Stefano. He was the reason I was studying it, and it was he that was helping me to learn it so well. To then turn around and share that with Chad seemed somehow…not right. And I absolutely shuddered when I remembered Chad and me sitting on the bench in the rose garden. Stefano and I hadn’t been there in so long, and yet I definitely thought of it as “our” place. Maybe Stefano was right to be a little jealous of Chad? But Chad and I were just friends and Stefano was my soulmate. My feelings for him were so powerful, even though he wasn’t of the physical world…(Or perhaps precisely because he wasn’t of the physical world.) I felt like I hardly saw him at all anymore and I was feeling rather bad about it. And so I made up my mind that that afternoon after classes were finished for the day, that instead of going back to my room right away, I would go to the rose garden and see if I waited long enough if Stefano would find me and we could spend a little time together.