No Time for Horses

by Shannon Kennedy

  “I’ll do it after dinner,” I said. “The reporters are interviewing all the class presidents. Since it’s my turn, I guess I better think of a few sound bites.”

  Later that night, it didn’t take long to zip through the interview. The phone call only lasted fifteen minutes. I still had time to do dishes and get started on the mountains of homework our teachers dumped on us. Like we’d planned for it to snow and shut down the entire world. It was majorly unfair, but there wasn’t much use in complaining, not when I had algebra.

  * * * *

  Tuesday, December 17th, 7:05 a.m.

  Between another snowstorm, more horse training, Christmas shopping, and tons of homework, the days flew by. I’d barely remembered to drop off photos of Aladdin for Mrs. Weaver to give to Adam. Rick was conspicuous by his absence. We had so much going on that we didn’t miss him at all, especially when Mom rented the basement apartment to a grad student.

  Lucy was the last person to view the rooms, the one I’d seen when I came home with Jack. She might dress like a Goth, but the kids adored her. Between her schedule, Darby’s, mine, and Mom’s, we had it covered. And Mom was happy back at Sink-A-Sub because her boss gave her the original schedule. She worked the lunch and dinner shifts. She might not have the tips that she’d gotten at the casino, but like she said, there was no guarantee with those. Her hourly wages were higher at the restaurant.

  I settled down at the table in the cafeteria to wait for Robin. It was my turn to buy our cups of coffee, and hers waited across from me. I peeled off the lid on my latte and sipped. It felt as if someone was staring at me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Evie.

  I waved and she came over, looking like a super cheer captain in her blue and gold sweats. “Hey,” I said, “how’s it going? Are we set up for this Saturday?”

  “Yes. How are you? Is everything okay?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Couldn’t be better. Why?”

  She gave me a long, weird look. “Just checking in on you. That’s all. You’d let me know if you were feeling overwhelmed, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course I would. Don’t get all touchy-feely on me. I count on you to keep me flying.”

  She smiled at that. Before she could tell me what was on her mind, more of the cheerleaders arrived. They hung out talking up a storm then it was some of the people from the cross-country team. Finally, Jack and Robin arrived. She picked up her mocha. He stood behind me, a hand on my shoulder.

  I glanced up at him. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Something irritated him, but it wasn’t me or he’d have said so. “Okay, what’s going on? Everybody’s acting strange.”

  Robin hesitated and eyed her brother. Then me. And then him again.

  “Spill it.” I told her. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re not going to like this,” Robin said.

  “I don’t know what this is,” I said. “Tell me.”

  She reached into her backpack and pulled out the latest issue of the school paper. The first page showed a student council meeting in session. The caption read, ‘Meet your class presidents and find out the real truth about who represents you.’

  “What’s the big deal?” I asked. “We knew it was my turn to be interviewed.”

  “Look inside,” Robin said.

  I opened the paper and saw a two-page photo spread. Picture after picture of me. Okay, so one was with Aladdin, another was of me with the squad at a football game, a third at a basketball game, more at the cheer competition, in class, at the council meetings. Adam had outdone himself following me around the school, but he hadn’t stopped there.

  I recognized the one of me at the grocery with a full cart of food, another of me buying the Christmas tree, walking my brothers and sisters to and from school, pushing the stroller with Chrissy, hanging laundry outside last fall because the clothes dryer died, and yanking Lance back on the sidewalk when he’d nearly been flattened by a car during the snow storm. But, the photos of me doing chores and being busy around school weren’t that bad. The worst ones were of Mom pitching a fit at the food drive.

  My gaze fell on the answers to the questions I’d been asked. ‘Vicky Miller says she enjoys hiking, fishing, horseback riding — undoubtedly she meant she has to ride herd on her younger brothers and sisters, hike after them and fish them out of trouble…’

  I took a deep breath then looked across the table at my best friend. “I guess we can’t hang Adam by his camera strap for showing the school the truth about my life.”

  “He made it look worse than it is,” Robin hissed, her voice a whisper, “and your mom is doing a lot better now that she’s come to terms with the divorce.”

  “Where’s the news in that?” I asked.

  “Good point.” Jack bent closer. “Here come more of your fans. Drink your coffee and act like nothing’s wrong, Robin.”

  At least now I knew what was going on and why everyone was trying to hang around me. I managed to smile when Harry Thornton showed up, accompanied by Dani. Harry grinned at me. “So, now everybody knows how hard you work and that’s why you’re the best Sophomore Class Prez ever. My sister always says if you want something done, pick a busy person.”

  “And she is always busy with the Mustang Corral,” Robin said. “When are you going to finish tuning up that loss leader so I can find it a home?”

  That prompted a squabble about how hard Harry worked. Dani squelched him by saying when he had to babysit five kids, he could complain. Meantime, he should get busy on the car. She’d come along, pass him tools, and tell him what he was doing wrong. Lots of laughter then, since she admitted that pumping gas was a puzzle.

  The warning bell rang. I got up, finished my latte, and Jack walked me to English class, carrying my backpack. Halfway there, I spotted Adam. I angled toward him. “What were you thinking, Adam Chambers? How to provoke controversy? You’re editing a high school newspaper, not a checkstand rag.”

  Red crept along his cheekbones, and he glared at me. “Good reporters dig below the surface. If you don’t like people knowing who and what you are, don’t run for office.”

  “I ran for class president to make a difference,” I said, “but you didn’t say anything about what I stood for or the things I’ve done. You could have said something about the food drive being the most successful we’ve ever had. Why not mention the upcoming blanket and coat drive starting in January? You could have done better. Instead, you opted for a cheap, superficial piece of crap that slammed my family.”

  I didn’t wait for an answer. I turned and walked away, Jack beside me. When we got to the door, he handed me my backpack. He smiled down at me. “I’ll see you after school, Gunga Din. Let me know if you need someone to hold your coat while you kick butt. You go, girl!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tuesday, December 17th, 4:00 p.m.

  I waited while Ingrid finished perusing the school newspaper before I asked, “What do you think? How should I handle this?”

  “What do you want to do about it?” Ingrid frowned thoughtfully. “Is any of this untrue? Do you want to demand a retraction?”

  “How can I? It’s the truth. We may not like it, but it is one aspect of my life. I’d have preferred it if the paper had printed things I said, but they didn’t. I helped organize the food drive this year, and we had a tremendous response. We’ll be doing other community activities and I listed those, but not a one was included.”

  “What if you wrote a letter to the editor?” Ingrid tapped her pen thoughtfully on the desk. “Then, you could bring up those points.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Any other words of wisdom?”

  “Let’s brainstorm an appropriate response. After that, you can talk to the members of the group and see what they suggest.”

  I relaxed a bit, grateful for her help. At least she listened to what I had to say. That was better than the reporters at school, who seemed to be taking lessons from supermarket tabloids. It was so not the Lincoln High way!

&n
bsp; Tom drove me home after the meeting. As always, he was the voice of reason. “I guess you could go with the theory that any publicity is good publicity.”

  “Or that Adam Chambers should be hung by his thumbs,” I retorted. “I just wish he’d put in the facts and figures about the food drive.”

  “I just wish we’d started the toy drive this year instead of holding off until next year. I could so use some glory.” Tom parked his car in my driveway. “I suppose I should just be glad that he didn’t dig up any dirt on me.”

  “Why didn’t he say something about you living on your own?” I asked. “You’d think he would.”

  “I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “It’s not a secret, but maybe he was just busy following you around.”

  “That could be,” I said.

  * * * *

  Tuesday, December 17th, 6:30 p.m.

  When I walked in the front door, Mom was on the phone. She finished her conversation, thanking the caller, and replacing the receiver. “You and I need to have a conversation.”

  “About what?” I asked. “I was at Ingrid’s tonight. You know that.”

  “This catastrophe.” Mom held up the school newspaper. “It’s a total embarrassment.”

  “You’re telling me,” I said, “and it is so annoying too. They didn’t include any of the information I gave them. Just those silly pictures.”

  Mom took a deep breath. “Do you know how many parents have called me? And Dr. Danvers, that ‘know-everything’ school counselor. Everyone wants to throw stones at me.”

  “What about Rick?” I asked. “He dumped on me too. Did he phone, or does he think this is all a big joke?”

  “I’m not laughing. I’ve called the school and told them I want a retraction printed immediately.”

  “Good luck with that. They don’t have to retract the truth.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Mom demanded.

  “Well, right now, I’m putting away my backpack. After that, I’m putting dinner on the table. The kids have to eat. When I finish cleaning up once supper is over, it’s laundry and homework. If things settle down and I’m allowed to do my own stuff, I’m writing a letter to the editor of the paper. There are some facts about school activities that should be included, things that the students need to know. My personal life doesn’t need to be displayed as if I’m a movie star.”

  * * * *

  Wednesday, December 18th, 7:12 a.m.

  Latte in hand, I was grateful to escape to the sanctuary of the school. Mom had arranged for a meeting with the headmaster, the counselor, Mrs. Weaver, and Adam. It sounded like one of those old-time things where she’d rant and rave and everyone would attempt to placate her. She just didn’t get it. Whoever said, the truth will set you free hadn’t met my mother. If she didn’t like it, she’d throw a big fit until the facts changed to suit her. And the facts didn’t work that way.

  I headed around the office to the staff lounge and knocked on the hallway door, asking to see Mr. Baxter. When he showed up, coffee cup in hand, I said, “Did you see the paper yesterday?”

  “I saw it this morning. Mrs. Weaver is livid.”

  “She’s not the only one.” I heaved a sigh. “My mother erupted. She was doing really well and getting in touch with her emotions about the divorce. Now, she’s back to her Cleopatra mode. We’re supposed to have a meeting after school today.”

  “That might help sort everything out.” Mr. Baxter drank some coffee. “Then again, possibly not.”

  “Will you please come with me? I need someone on my side. Otherwise, Mrs. Weaver will be in big trouble, Adam will be kicked off the paper, and all of this will just escalate.”

  “Aren’t you mad at Adam?”

  “For what? Telling the truth as he saw it?” I shrugged. “Like my counselor says, this is a time of transition, and it will take all of us a while to sort things out. My life is getting better, and I didn’t have a clue that was even possible a few weeks ago.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there, and we’ll get this nonsense settled, Vicky.”

  “All right.” I looked at my watch. “I have to go meet Robin. Thanks again.”

  “No worries. I’ll see you in class.”

  * * * *

  Wednesday, December 18th, 2:30 p.m.

  Everyone except the headmaster and Dr. Danvers showed up on time, including Rick. That totally amazed me. I went over to Mom. “What is he doing here?”

  “A few of the customers at the tire store recognized your brothers and sisters. They went to his boss, and she told him to get here and straighten this out.”

  “That’s great.” I wanted to slump into a chair at the conference table but I decided that I better act mature. I introduced Mr. Baxter to Mom and then to Rick. “He’s my advocate.”

  “Your what?” Rick stared at me as if I’d just arrived from outer space. “Why would you need an advocate?”

  “Well, I thought about asking Ingrid to come, but I’m saving her in case we have to do this again. Mr. Baxter is my advisor, and he’s helping me get a grant so I can stay in school.”

  Mrs. Weaver’s head swiveled my direction. She focused on me. “What do you mean, Victoria? Why wouldn’t you stay in school? You’re brilliant.”

  I smiled and tried to make my tone super sweet. “Because Rick won’t pay my tuition. He wants me to drop out and babysit his kids full-time. Either that or take his youngest daughter with me to the alternative school.”

  Gray hair, gray suit, gray shoes, and steely gray eyes, my English teacher might look like a troll, but she had iron in her backbone. She turned to Adam. “Okay, you’re done here.”

  “What?” He stared and then straightened. “Mrs. Weaver, I’m sorry I didn’t show you what I’d done with the article, but I am a good editor.”

  “Yes, you are. I should have trusted your instincts. You had a good story, and you let the pictures show it. You didn’t allow your personal opinion or bias into it. Now, let’s get to work on the next issue. You’re excused.”

  Adam scooted out the door, a big smile on his face. Okay, one soul saved. One teacher to go. I smiled at Mrs. Weaver. “Thank you. If I submit a letter to the editor, will it be printed?”

  “That depends. What do you want to say?”

  “I want to tell the students how great the food drive did, that we’ll have a toy drive next year during the holiday season, and about the upcoming blanket and coat drive. There are a lot of people who need help in our community, and we should be stepping up.”

  “That sounds good. We’ll run it as a guest commentary.”

  “I want a retraction,” Mom said. “Don’t you want one too, Rick?”

  “For what?” Rick asked, scorn filling his light blue eyes. “I can see why you might be embarrassed, Gretchen, but it doesn’t bother me. If you could manage money, then you wouldn’t need to use your daughter as an unpaid babysitter.”

  Mom’s lower lip trembled. Her hands shook. Before I could say anything, Mrs. Weaver was there. She put an arm around Mom and guided her to the conference table. “As Ayn Rand wrote, ‘It isn’t the muck in the pigpen that we find offensive. It’s the ray of light that shows it to us.’”

  “Is he the muck or the ray of light?” I asked, pointing at Rick.

  “He’s the muck. Adam is the ray.” Mrs. Weaver patted Mom’s shoulder. “Is that your father, Victoria?”

  “No, ma’am. He’s my stepdad, not any relation to me. He takes a lot of pride in telling everyone that.”

  “Then we don’t need him here. Mr. Baxter, would you please show him the door?”

  “No worries.” My history teacher loomed over Rick, and the guy scuttled for the exit. He was gone, just like that. Yippee!

  Now, it was down to the four of us. I didn’t know what had happened to the headmaster or Dr. Danvers, and I didn’t care.

  “A retraction,” Mom said weakly.

  I shook my head. “No, Mom. This has gone on far too long. The article isn’t sland
erous. It showed what the truth was at one time. You may not like it because things have changed and you’ve taken charge of the house and all of us. But, when you were grieving over your failed marriage, you dumped everything on me. It wasn’t pretty. It looked like the photos in the paper.”

  “Things are different now, aren’t they?” A faint hope trickled into her eyes and face. “I’m not a bad mother.”

  “No, you’re not. And you never were,” I said. “You just need to keep taking control of our house. We’re depending on you.”

  “Okay.” Mom plucked a tissue from the box, wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry that I over-reacted.”

  “I could give you lessons in losing control when I was younger, but I learned to take charge of my temper so it didn’t take charge of me,” Mrs. Weaver said. “It’s all right. You just wanted to protect your child. Now, what are we doing about Victoria’s tuition?”

  “I have her grant application,” Mr. Baxter said. “I’ve forwarded it to the school board, but I’ve already had three businesses, Gibson Accounting, Equine Nation Veterinary Clinic, and Sink-A-Sub, offer to scholarship her costs here. It will all work out.”

  “Thank you.” Mom blew her nose. “I’m going to do better for her.”

  I glanced at the clock, almost three and I had to meet Jack. “Whoops. Gotta wind this up, folks. I have to get to Shamrock Stable.”

  Mom sighed and shook her head. “I guess we’re done here. Nothing comes between Vicky and her horses.”

  “Got that right.” I had her out the door and headed for her car while I hurried toward Jack’s truck. Robin jogged across the lot to meet us. “Hi. What’s up?”

  “Not much,” Robin said. “I need to talk to your mom.”

  “About what?” I eyed the two of them.

  “Christmas,” Robin said. “It’s a secret. Go away, Vick.”

  “And what am I supposed to do?”

  “Go talk to Jack about Aladdin.”