No Time for Horses

by Shannon Kennedy

  “I’ll remember it,” I said, beginning to feel better.

  With the three of us working, it didn’t take long to brush Summertime and tack him up for the lesson. When I led him into the ring, nobody else was there. I walked him around a couple of times in each direction so he could see that we were perfectly safe. He flicked his ears, switching back and forth from monocular to binocular vision.

  Those tulip-shaped ears were my signal for what Summertime watched. He arched his neck and pranced next to me, little baby steps so I’d know that he was doing his Wizard of Oz dance. I might not see any ‘lions, tigers, or bears’ in the indoor arena, but I wasn’t a four-legged walking sandwich that knew everything planned to eat him.

  Scanning straight ahead, his eyes worked together, focusing on everything that moved and a few things that didn’t. Since he was a prey animal, he’d want to run first, look second, and think last. When he calmed down, he’d return to monocular vision, the left eye seeing off to the left, and the right eye seeing off to the right. The information would be recorded on each side of his brain and Rocky said the two sides barely talked to each other. That was why horses spooked whenever people changed directions.

  Throw in a few other details like gates that appeared as holograms, dogs that seemed as big as ponies, and obstacles that became invisible at the last moment, it was little wonder my horse had issues. I reversed and took Summertime the other way on the right track. He’d started to settle down so I paused in the center of the ring to tighten his cinch.

  “Go ahead and mount up,” Sierra said. “You can warm him up at a walk and trot. I’ll stick around until Mom gets here.”

  “All right.” I led the Arabian over to the mounting bench. “Thanks, Sierra.”

  “It’s what friends are for,” Sierra told me. “Like my counselor says, ‘You can’t let people who do so little for you control so much of your mind, thoughts, feelings, and emotions.’”

  I eyed Sierra again and then nodded in agreement. She made all sorts of sense. I swung up into the western saddle, settled into the seat, and gathered up my reins. Whenever I sat on a horse, I felt like I’d come home. I turned Summertime onto the left track, and he picked up a medium walk. The tension slowly eased out of my back. At last, I felt as if Rocky was right. Everything would work out.

  * * * *

  Wednesday, November 13th, 7:30 p.m.

  Our house was dark when Jack pulled into the drive after my lesson, barn work, and dinner at the local burger joint. He put an arm around my shoulders. “Want me to come in with you?”

  “That’d be great.” I took a few minutes to sort through my purse and pull out my keys. Okay, so I was sixteen. I still hated going into a pitch-black room even if I was too old to be scared. “Thanks, Jack.”

  “Hey, I’m good at driving off dragons. Just ask my sisters.”

  I laughed, feeling even better. Holding hands, we walked up to the front door. I unlocked it and led the way inside, clicking on lights. “Watch where you step.”

  “I know that by now,” Jack said.

  I followed his gaze around the hall. Coats, shoes, and toys were scattered on the floor between here and the kitchen. I definitely didn’t want to go there. “Well, it looks like the house is safe.”

  “How do you know?” Jack asked. “Maybe a burglar broke in and trashed the place.”

  “Not hardly. No self-respecting thief would admit to coming in here.”

  It was Jack’s turn to laugh. “Okay, I’ll vacuum. You pick up all the crap off the floor. Deal?”

  “No way,” I said. “I’d never ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. And I’m not leaving you to clean up this pit by yourself.”

  “I should have expected the house to be destroyed since I spent the night downstairs.”

  “Think positive. We only have one level to muck, and there isn’t any poop on the floor,” Jack said. “Come on, girlfriend. Sooner to it, sooner through it.”

  He was such a hunk and pure sweetness too. I couldn’t think of another guy who’d volunteer to help clean house. I pulled the Hoover out of the hall closet. While he vacuumed the formal living room and dining room, I began collecting all of the treasures. The house wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Mom never allowed the kids to play in the front rooms reserved for company. They just needed to be vacced and dusted. The same went for the dining room and the master suite.

  However, the rest of the house disgusted me. I couldn’t believe they’d left the kitchen for me to clean when I hadn’t even been here for breakfast. I loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters and walls. I mopped the floor, not like there was a choice when someone spilled apple juice. Then, it was onto the family room.

  Two and a half hours later, the house was immaculate. Jack had kissed me goodbye and made his escape before my family arrived home. I sat on top of the washing machine reading my SSR book for English class. I glanced up at the thud of footsteps in the hall and saw Kevin with the diaper bag, followed by Mom carrying a sleepy Chrissy.

  “Hey,” I said. “How was your day?”

  “I had the early swing shift,” Mom said. “And then the kindergarten teacher called me because nobody picked up the kids at school.”

  I slid off the washer and put my book up out of reach on the highest shelf by the laundry detergent. “Wednesday is my internship. You both know that. I think you should give the daycare staff permission to collect the kids at the elementary school. They could take them back to the center.”

  “I don’t want to stay there.” Kevin glared at me. “It’s just a bunch of little brats.”

  “Well, you should fit right in,” I said, taking my baby sister from Mom. “If you want people to think you’re responsible, try acting like it.”

  “Why should I?” He shoved the diaper bag at me. “I don’t want to have to do what you do all the time.”

  I laughed at him, slinging the strap onto my shoulder. “Well, sweetie, think ahead. I’m out of here in a year and a half. Who will be running the house when I go to Clinton Anderson’s school in Texas or Monty Roberts’ farm in California?”

  Mom spun around, staring at me as if I was a total stranger. “Vicky, no! I need you. I count on you. What will I do without you?”

  “You better start training another maid, cook, nanny, and bottle washer,” I said. “My Cinderella license expires on my eighteenth birthday.”

  I left her sputtering and Kevin whining behind me. I carried Chrissy down the hall to our bedroom. Her diaper was dry, but I changed it anyway. Linda and Cathy charged into the room and then stopped to gape at the piles of clothes and toys on their beds. “Put your things away,” I said, “and get into your jammies. You better hurry if you want a story.”

  “But, you always put away our things,” Cathy told me.

  “I know,” I said, “but it’s been six months and I’ve already done it once. Since you threw your clean clothes on the floor, it’s your turn to pick them up. Same goes for your games.”

  “What if I don’t?” Cathy lifted her chin, narrowing blue eyes. “What will you do?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” I finished easing Chrissy into her sleepers and tucked her into the crib. “I’m out of here in a year and a half. If you want to sleep with your clothes and toys until I move out, you can.”

  “Pick up and put away, Cathy.” Linda tossed her blonde curls. “I want my story. If you’re mean, I won’t get one.”

  It only took a half hour to get the four older kids tucked into their beds. I read two stories to the twins. Cathy and Kevin always claimed they didn’t care about the ritual, but then again, they always listened. For once, they’d all put away their belongings, and I decided it was time for new rules. I had places to go and things to do. My parents might think I was a maid, nanny, and housekeeper, but my siblings needed to learn better. If I didn’t teach them to respect me, who would?

  Mom sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. I poured mys
elf a glass of milk and went into the laundry room to get my SSR book. When I came back, Mom pushed back in her chair and eyed me warily.

  “Vicky, sit down. We need to talk.”

  “About what?” I leaned against the counter, sipping my milk. “I can’t think of anything we need to say.”

  “Your internship for one. Your nasty attitude for another.” Mom drew a deep breath. “And your school for a third.”

  I froze, dread creeping through my body. My voice felt trapped. I barely managed to croak, “What about my school?”

  “The tuition falls due in January, and we don’t have it,” Mom said. “Your dad won’t pay it this year. You’re going to have to leave Lincoln High and attend public school.”

  Chapter Five

  Wednesday, November 13th, 11:30 p.m.

  It felt like someone punched me in the stomach. I struggled to breathe. “Why are you doing this? What have I ever done to make you and Dad hate me so much?”

  “What are you talking about? We don’t hate you.” Mom ran a hand through her short brown hair, so much like mine. “Honey, it’s a fact of life. When a couple divorces, the woman’s and kids’ standard of living drops while the guy’s improves. This isn’t personal. I can’t afford to send you to Lincoln High. You have to transfer to a public school.”

  “You hate me.” If I hadn’t been so angry, I’d have started bawling. “You and Dad just don’t have the guts to admit it. Wait a second. He really isn’t my father, is he? I shouldn’t be calling him ‘Dad’. Do you want me to call him by his first or last name? I wouldn’t want you to say I have a bad attitude.”

  “Give it a rest, Victoria. He’s been your father since you were six years old. You don’t have to call him anything else.”

  “Really.” I spun around, shaking with fury. I wouldn’t let her see me cry. I wouldn’t! “You two treat me like a servant, not as if I’m your daughter too. Now, you want to take me away from my friends, my teachers, my riding instructor, and anybody else who stands up to you.”

  “You’re just being silly. You can still see your friends even if you do attend a new school.”

  “Oh, let’s be honest here.” I stalked over to the sink, rinsed my glass, and put it in the empty dishwasher. “Once I leave Lincoln in the lurch so the cheer squad doesn’t get to compete in rec cheer competitions and win another title, nobody will be speaking to me. And that’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

  “There’s no talking to you when you get on the pity-pot.” Mom pushed back her chair and stood. “It’s not all about you, Vicky. I’m giving you a heads-up that things are going to change even more. Please make sure the master suite is clean tomorrow. I have a possible renter coming to look at it when we get back from the counselor’s.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Miller. I’ll be happy to do that for you around cleaning the rest of the house, doing all of your brats’ laundry, and prepping and cooking three meals, Mrs. Miller. Is there any possibility that you’ll pick up the kids to take them there, Mrs. Miller, or should I plan on skipping cheer practice again so we can walk to the shrink’s office?”

  Since I knew the answer already, I grabbed my paperback and stormed out. Okay, it was immature, but I didn’t care. The only support system I had was at my school. My teachers went all out so I could keep up my grades. My cheer coach bent over backward to keep me on the squad. My friends lined up to babysit. My wonderful guy had even helped muck out this rathole tonight so I didn’t end up doing everything.

  I stopped in the bedroom long enough to grab my nightgown, my backpack, and a change of clothes before I headed down to the basement. I was through pretending I was a part of her freaking family. I wasn’t. Tomorrow, when I cleaned the house, I’d move into the studio apartment, and I wasn’t paying one cent of rent. My work had to count for something. And the nice Vicky was done. When I got to the counselor’s with the kids, I was letting her know all about this crap-fest. If she gave me the line of bull that we were in the midst of a transition which was hard on everyone concerned, I’d let her know that six months was long enough. Mom and Dad, I mean Rick Miller, could just get over themselves.

  * * * *

  Thursday, November 14th, 7:05 a.m.

  I was in the Commons when Robin arrived with a mocha for her and a peppermint latte for me. She gave me a big brown-eyed look, obviously surprised I wasn’t late for school. I glared at her. “Do not start with me. You will not win.”

  “Wow, someone needs some caffeine.” She handed over the cup containing my sixteen-ounce latte. “Do I want to know why you’re here on time? Or will you bite my head off?”

  “I woke up the wicked witch of the western hemisphere at six a.m. and asked her if she wanted me to get her brats up and off, or if she’d like to pretend to be their mother and do it herself.”

  “No way.” Robin hastily swallowed her coffee before she spewed it. “What was the answer?”

  “She opted to do it herself since they got back late from Rick’s.”

  Robin’s jaw dropped. “You’re calling your dad by his first name?”

  “As everyone has taken great pains to point out for the last six months, he is not my father. Therefore, it is inappropriate for me to call him ‘Dad’.” I blinked hard, but a tear escaped before I managed to stop it. “So, I won’t call him that anymore.”

  “Wow,” Robin said again. She came around the table and hugged me. “What’s up? Why are you so pissed?”

  “Because Mommie Dearest and Daddy Rick have decided that I can’t stay here at Lincoln. They’re not paying my tuition in January. So, that means I have to transfer to a public school right after Christmas.”

  “No, way!”

  “Yes, way.” I popped the cap on my latte and took a swallow. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, first things first, who is your advisor?”

  “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

  “Because, we’re going to get him involved in this mess.” Robin stood up. “Come on. Let’s go raid his room. Who are we after?”

  “Mr. Baxter,” I said. “He advises the entire student council.”

  “He’s the guy we’re looking for, and we need to hustle. School starts in fifteen minutes.”

  I got up and followed her to the History wing. Mr. Baxter was in his room grading papers when we entered. A big, burly, bald-headed dude in a black polo shirt, black jeans, and boots, he looked like a biker on the loose.

  He looked at us as we came in then nodded at us. “How’s the food drive going?”

  “No way to tell yet,” I said. “We just started yesterday.”

  “The cross-country team is going to win this year,” Robin said. “We have a problem, Mr. B. How do you feel about special elections?”

  “Negative, very negative.” He picked up his coffee cup. “They’re a pain to organize and take forever. Why?”

  “My mom and stepdad are divorcing. They’ve decided that I need to change schools because they can’t afford the tuition,” I said. “My mother just told me last night.”

  “Wonderful.” Mr. Baxter growled, sounding like an angry bear. “Don’t they think I have enough to do? Progress reports, a food drive to supervise, a new History 300 unit to organize, tests for the last units for all my classes, a lesson plan for my substitute tomorrow.…”

  I couldn’t help it. I giggled. “It’s not all about you.”

  “Want to bet?” Mr. Baxter began to sort through the papers on his desk. “It would have been nice to have more notice. You could have applied for scholarships to cover your costs if they’d notified us last spring, Vicky. Between the Honor Roll, cheerleading, and being in student government, you would have had a good chance. Now, we’ll have to try for a grant.”

  “A grant? What’s that?” I asked.

  “We’ll arrange for one of the alumni or a business to sponsor you. We may only be able to cover the tuition for second semester. That will give you the opportunity to look over the available s
cholarships for your junior year.”

  “And I won’t have to leave Lincoln High.” I smiled at him and Robin. “Thank you. I was totally freaking out. I love this school.”

  “We don’t want to lose you either,” Mr. Baxter said, handing me a stapled form. “I’ll call your parents and explain that we can help you stay here.”

  “I wouldn’t do it right away, Mr. B.,” Robin said. “They want her to go to the alternative school so she’ll be available to babysit more often and they can save money on the baby’s daycare.”

  The warning bell rang just then, so I didn’t have to tell my advisor that my best friend was a bit of a drama diva who tended to exaggerate. I waited until we were in the hall, headed for Homeroom English, before I said, “Robin, they never told me that. Not about the alternative high school.”

  “Vicky, wake up and smell that latte I bought you. There’s no point in you going to the biggest public school in the state. Marysville has more programs than we do. Their cheer coach would die to have you on her squad. Your evil mother may not have said it yet, but the bottom line is money. If you attend the alternative school, you can take Chrissy with you.”

  “But, she’s my half-sister, not my baby. Why would the school let me have her?”

  “Because you’re her primary caregiver. I’d bet they’d make an exception in that case.” Robin drained her mocha, dropping the cup in the recycle bin. “I could be wrong. Just watch yourself in case I’m right.”

  * * * *

  Thursday, November 14th, 3:45 p.m.

  It had started to rain, a bare mist sliding across my face as we walked to the strip mall where my family visited the court-appointed counselor in her office. At least there weren’t any puddles today, and that was a blessing. Last time, Lance and Kevin stomped through them, and I heard all about it from my mother when they showed up with wet feet.

  Sometimes, the kids were better than other times when it came to listening to me. Kevin constantly tested me. If he was a horse, I’d have put him in the round pen and drove him to run laps until he licked his lips, made chewing motions, and gave me his undivided attention. However, what worked with Aladdin didn’t always work with little boys.