No Time for Horses

by Shannon Kennedy

  Another long-suffering sigh. “I didn’t know you were afraid to be home by yourself.”

  “And you don’t really care.” I wrapped a paper towel around my blueberry muffin, put it on the counter, and went after my backpack in the family room. “You’re just pissed because Jack stayed with me. You’re right. I should have had him take me to Tom’s. I could have hung out there for a few hours until everyone got home, and Tom would have brought me here.”

  “Who is Tom?”

  “Student body prez.” I unzipped the top of my back-pack and pulled out the grant application. “He can drive. None of my friends have their licenses yet. They’re doing Drivers’ Ed this semester, all except me and Robin. We’re signing up for it in the spring.”

  “How do you plan to pay for it?” Mom poured her own coffee. “I told you that we don’t have money for extras.”

  “By then, I’ll have earned enough at Shamrock Stable,” I said. “Rocky’s paying me for my hours now that I’m caught up on my internship, plus I get a bonus for each horse I train.”

  “I won’t have you hurt.”

  I nearly told her that I knew she wasn’t worried about anything but losing the nanny, housekeeper, and cook. She didn’t actually care about me. She’d stopped loving me years ago. Did she think I was stupid? I’d figured it out when we stopped celebrating my birthday and when there never were presents under the Christmas tree for me except for the ones from my friends. I kept my teenage snarky mouth shut. I just flipped through the pages to the one that needed signatures and handed her the application. “I need you to sign this so I can get a grant to stay at Lincoln High.”

  “I already told you that there isn’t any money for tuition. We can’t pay back a loan.”

  “It’s not a loan. It’s a grant. The school arranges for someone to pay for me to stay enrolled.”

  “Why would they do that? There’s a catch, Vicky. There’s bound to be.”

  “They like me. They want me around.”

  “Of course they do.” Sarcasm dripped from the words. Mom read the last paragraph. “Are you trying to embarrass me? This says you need a grant because we can’t afford the school. They want copies of my income tax. I’m not providing that information.”

  “For once, could you just think about what’s best for me?” I planted my fists on my hips. “It’s Lincoln High. When I graduate, I’ll be ready for college, and they have a hundred percent acceptance rate. All of the seniors are admitted to the universities they want to attend.”

  “Who says you’re going to college?” Mom tore the application in half then ripped the papers into quarters. She tossed the pieces in the garbage can under the sink. “If I can’t pay tuition now, how do you expect me to pay for college?”

  I backed a step, stunned. It was as if she’d thrown me in the trash along with my dreams. “You hate me. You really do.”

  “Oh, Vicky, get over yourself. This may come as a surprise, but the world doesn’t turn around you and your whims. Save the teen angst for somebody else.”

  A tear streaked down my cheek. I blinked hard, determined not to cry in front of her. I went into the pantry and snagged the last two cans of beets. I returned to the kitchen and grabbed my backpack. “I am so out of here.”

  “Don’t you want this muffin?” Mom called after me.

  “No,” I yelled back. “You can eat it, shove it, or toss it.”

  I slammed the door behind me, hoping it’d wake up the kids and ruin her day. Probably not. The five of them could sleep through an earthquake, and they’d barely make school today. Did I care? No!

  Jack pulled up just as I reached the end of the driveway. Slinging my backpack onto the floor, I followed it inside the cab. I slid across the bench seat and into his arms.

  He hugged me tight. “What’s wrong? What did she do to you?”

  I buried my face against his shirt and cried. “She hates me. She really does.”

  “Only when you inconvenience her, baby. If she really hated you, she wouldn’t trust you with her kids or the house.”

  “She trashed my grant app. She wants me out of Lincoln High.”

  “That’s no surprise. She’s been trying to get you out since school started. Now, how are you going to deal with it?”

  A good question, I thought. He held me for a few more minutes and then I slipped away. “I’m okay now. When I get to school, I’ll go see Mr. Baxter. I’ll get another copy of the application and do it again.”

  “I’ll bet he has it on his hard drive. Have him email it to you and then you can save it in your computer file in the lab. It won’t matter how many copies she throws away.”

  “Wow, you’re smart.”

  “That’s why you love me.” Jack winked at me. “One more suggestion. You should contact your counselor and see if she can have one of the parents pick up the kids. The forecaster was talking snow when I left this morning.”

  * * * *

  Thursday, December 5th, 3:00 p.m.

  We’d just finished rehearsing a dance routine when Ms. Walker waved to me. “Vicky, don’t you have to go pick up the kids today? Aren’t you seeing your…?”

  She stopped, and I knew she didn’t want to embarrass me in front of the squad. “Hey, guys. I see a therapist every week.”

  “We know that,” Evie said, obviously impatient with what she considered inconsequential matters. “It’s part of the divorce crap everybody goes through. We need to nail this sequence. Now, are we rehearsing for Saturday or not?”

  I grinned at her. “Rehearsing. I contacted Ingrid and explained that it wasn’t good for me to walk the kids through the freezing rain. They’ll catch cold, and I can’t miss school to take care of them.”

  “A doctor’s note,” Ms. Walker said. “From now on, I want a doctor’s note from you, Vicky, if you tell me that you’re ill. Part of being a parent is taking care of your kids when they’re sick, and yours should realize it.”

  “They’ll just leave them home alone like they did me when I was that age,” I said. “It’s not happening.” I met her stern gaze. “I’m not doing that to the brat squad, Coach.”

  “I should have known you wouldn’t.” She patted my shoulder. “You’re a good person, Vicky. All right, ladies. Break’s over. Let’s get back to work. We want to win this Saturday.”

  An hour later when practice ended, I headed for the parking lot to meet Jack. The steel gray sky looked ominous. It wasn’t raining anymore. Tiny white flakes swirled around me as I walked toward the pickup. Oh, crap. Here came Jack’s snow. And it was the kind that stuck to everything. If we got an inch or more, this side of Washington State would totally shut down.

  “I have a life here.” I yelled at the sky. “Will you just knock it off? Pick on someone else for a while.”

  I heard laughter, and when I turned toward the entry, Adam waved at me. “Let me know if that works, Vicky. You may have to teach all of us how to do an ‘end the snow’ dance.”

  “Bite me!”

  “Just let me know when and where!”

  Laughing, I climbed into the pickup and leaned over to kiss Jack. “You can stop this stuff anytime, you know. How am I going to get everything done if it keeps snowing?”

  “I have no idea.” He hugged me for an instant. “Guess I could try to borrow my mom’s car. It has four-wheel drive.”

  “Let’s wait and see.” I snuggled next to him. “It could stop.”

  “Okay. If it does, do you want to take the kids and go get a tree Sunday night?”

  “Definitely!”

  Ten minutes later, I found the kids having a snack, five little blond stair-steps in the waiting room when I walked into Ingrid’s office. Chrissy waved at me from her stroller, crackers spread out on the plastic tray. “Hi there.” I smiled at the older ones. “How was your day?”

  “Daddy’s mad at you,” Cathy said. “He says getting us is your job. Don’t you love us anymore, Vicky?”

  “Sweetie, of course I love you.”
I went to the table and snitched one of her animal crackers. I wouldn’t tell the kid what I honestly thought of her jerk father. “That’s why I wanted Ingrid to send someone with a car for you. I love you too much to let you get cold and wet.”

  “Told you.” Lance grinned at me, then went back and sucked more juice from the box in his hand. “Mama Vicky will always love us.”

  “Are we okay, Cathy?” I gently tugged one of her pigtails, then took a gold ribbon from my braid and tied it around her hair. “Love you lots. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “Okay.” She beamed at me, all right in her nine-year-old world. “Will you do the other one too, Vicky?”

  “Yes, but you have to give the ribbons back when we get home. I need them for Saturday’s competition.”

  “I wish we could come watch you cheer.” Linda’s lower lip drooped. “Daddy won’t bring us. He says it’s too much hassle.”

  “I’ll try and work it out before the season ends.” I dropped to my knees between her and Cathy. I helped myself to another cracker. Then, I worked more ribbons into the girls’ hair.

  When they finished their snacks, Kevin went for the photocopied pictures and cups of crayons that waited on the counter. He made a face when he came back. “Only princesses and unicorns this week.”

  “Fun,” I said. “No letting your unicorn lead an army into war, bro.”

  He brightened, mischief filling his face and blue eyes. “I never thought of unicorns fighting.”

  “How do you think they use those horns?” I asked.

  “For stabbing bad guys.” Lance grabbed the red crayon. “Mine just got back from a fight. It’s why his horn is all bloody.”

  “You’re gross,” Linda told him, but her twin just grinned.

  Kevin and I were fighting over the crayons when the phone buzzed a few minutes later. The receptionist interrupted the war between black and purple on his picture. “Vicky, you need to go back to the conference room. Ingrid wants to talk to you.”

  “Okay, but don’t think this is over,” I told Kevin. “That unicorn is going to be pink and purple, not evil black and red.”

  “Yeah, right.” He tried to snicker and sounded more little boy than demonic. “If you’re not here, he’s a zombie unicorn, and he kicks butt.”

  “Not for long,” I said, grabbing my backpack. “When I get back, he’s picking flowers for the girl unicorns in his herd.”

  “Oooh, gross.” Lance moved over by Kevin. “Here, I’ll help you. These are tough unicorns, not wussy ones. Let’s make a couple of camo ones.”

  “Thanks,” the receptionist whispered when I went by her desk. “I didn’t know I was out of truck and motorcycle pictures.”

  “It’s all in the presentation,” I said, just as softly.

  Chapter Twenty

  Thursday, December 5th, 5:00 p.m.

  When I walked into the conference room, Mom was crying. Rick looked disgusted with what he obviously considered too much emotion. Since he wore khakis and a polo shirt, I knew he must have been off work today, so what was the big deal about picking up his kids? I decided he’d just been in jerk mode. Mom must have come from the casino since she was in her dealer uniform. She wouldn’t have been happy on the day shift. She always said the tips were lousy and didn’t make up for the low hourly wage.

  I glanced at Ingrid who once again made notes. “What’s up with them?”

  “They’re fine,” Ingrid told me. “We’re still working out the details of their parenting plan and we’ve come to you. They haven’t decided what to do with you, but at your age, you get a say.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m gone in seventeen months. I’m counting the days.” I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “I talked to Dr. Danvers at school today and she says that if I don’t get scholarships or grants, I can always enlist in the military. One of the benefits is they’ll pay for college.”

  “You could talk to a recruiter and see what it takes for you to sign up on your seventeenth birthday,” Ingrid said, a demonic granny in a teal pantsuit. “You should check into the bonus programs. If you test highly enough, there would be sufficient money to pay your tuition for your junior and senior years at Lincoln High before you go to basic training. It’s a good idea.”

  “It’s a horrible idea,” Mom shrieked, then struggled to calm down. “Am I such a terrible mother? How can you leave me like this? This country has been at war for the last twelve years. I don’t want my daughter in a combat zone.”

  “Stop being hysterical, Gretchen. It’s only teen drama,” Rick said. “I hear it from the boys at the tire store all the time when they want more hours or certain shifts. Vicky will never do it. She doesn’t have the guts.”

  “Enlisting has nothing to do with you or Mom,” I said. “It’s about me and my future. Don’t worry about my guts, Rick. If I didn’t have them, how could I raise your kids for so long? And from what Dr. Danvers told me about boot camp, it sounds super easy after living with the pair of you.”

  “Wait a moment. How did I get into this?” Rick demanded. “I got you out of public school and did the applications for you to be in a private academy. I paid for you to attend Lincoln High for a year and a half. I helped make campaign signs when you ran for Sophomore Class President last spring.”

  “After you threw a big fit because I had friends over the last time,” I reminded him. “I can always go to their houses. They just can’t come to mine.”

  “There was too much noise. Lots of yelling and carrying on. One of them spilled a soda on the kitchen floor,” Rick said.

  “Yeah, and he was cleaning it up,” I retorted. “Mom had said that we could have a campaign party as long as I watched your kids at the same time. She brought home sub sandwiches for all of us, but everyone was long gone by that point thanks to your tantrum.”

  “Six kids are plenty for one house,” Rick said. “I like peace and quiet when I get home.”

  “Well, maybe you should quit making babies then,” I snapped back. “It isn’t reasonable to expect everyone to sit on a shelf like toys when you come in the door.”

  “Is that what this is about?” Mom wiped her eyes then blew her nose. “Rick is out of our house for good, so it doesn’t matter what he thinks about the rules there. Kids should have friends. It’s normal. Do you want your friends to sleep over on a Friday or Saturday, Vicky? They can. I don’t have a problem with it.”

  “Hello, Mother dearest. Will you wake up and smell the coffee? Their parents won’t let them because we’d be alone in the house. We’re teenagers.”

  “Well, I trust you to be responsible, Vicky. You make good choices.”

  I rolled my eyes and glanced at Ingrid. “She totally doesn’t get it, does she? I’m a teenager. I’m supposed to learn from my mistakes. I don’t get to make many of those.”

  “Name one you made,” Ingrid said. “That could help.”

  “Last Saturday when I came off Aladdin.”

  That got Mom and Rick’s attention. He gave me a strange look. “What mistake did you make?”

  “I should have known that if you were in a five mile radius, you’d sabotage my job. I’ve seen you do it often enough to Mom for the last ten years. I really liked it when she worked at the sub shop. She went in at ten to prep and was home by seven at night. She always had weekends off. If I just wanted to chat, I could pop in and visit on my way home from school, and I only had to pick up the kids at school once or twice a week.”

  “How did I sabotage that?”

  “You threw fits at her in front of customers until the manager banned you from the place. After that, you sent the kids in to get her during her shift. The upshot was when you left Chrissy behind in one of the booths.”

  “I thought that was an accident,” Mom said. “He told me he didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “He lied,” I said. “You cut him too much slack. He did it because he knew you’d put her first. You’re her mom, and when you have
little kids, you’re great. He wanted you out of the sub shop because they were talking about making you the manager of the new one by the high school. You’d be making more money than he does at the tire store.”

  “You know a lot about your mom’s business,” Ingrid said. “More than most teens would, Vicky.”

  “I told you that I hung out at the restaurant with a bunch of my friends. I heard how much everyone liked her.” I shrugged. “Last Saturday, I should have looked around and made sure that Rick wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity before I rode Aladdin. I could have broken my neck when I fell.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t want you hurt,” Ingrid assured me.

  “Thank you,” Rick said, sarcastically. “I’m glad someone sees I’m not the bad guy.”

  “You tend to think of yourself first, Rick.” Ingrid rolled a pen in her fingers. “If Vicky was seriously injured, who would take care of the kids?”

  I almost cracked up at the looks on his and Mom’s faces. It was obviously the last thing they’d expected to hear from their counselor. I leaned back in my chair. “So, what’s up, Ingrid? Why did you want me in here? You know what I want. A life.”

  “You’re right. It’s time to talk about the next proverbial elephant in the living room. Let’s discuss your emancipation.”

  “Her what?” Mom squawked, staring at me.

  “Emancipation,” Ingrid repeated. “You don’t have a parenting plan for her. Neither of you intends to pay for her education. I received a grant application today from her advisor. He wants it signed so that he can take it to the school board and arrange for her to stay in classes. He’s the first person who has expressed an interest in her scholastic achievements in seven months.”

  “You’re overreacting,” Rick said. “Vicky’s not old enough to leave home, so how could she support herself?”

  “I have a job,” I said. “It’s the first thing Ingrid told me that I had to do when I brought this up. And that job includes a place to live when I want it.”