Horse Camp

by Nicole Helget

  “Ow!” I say.

  “You will respect all forms of life on this farm, and that includes your brother, your sister, me, yourself, and all the animals, including the dogs,” he says.

  I don’t get a chance to respond. Uncle Stretch is ramrodding me along, and I can barely even see where we’re going. We go into a small wooden building that smells like cobwebs and dead bugs and old dust. It’s dark in there, and he tugs me this way and that, and suddenly we’re clomping up some wooden steps.

  We enter a room, and finally Uncle Stretch releases me from his death grip. I go stumbling across the floor and almost trip over something I can barely see. A big saddle. Uncle Stretch stands close to the stairs we came up, just a square hole in the floor. The moonlight through the window lights him up like a gigantic, mean, crazy, tough lumberjack. A lumberjack in a nightshirt.

  I just look back at him.

  We stand there for a minute or two.

  “Where is this supposed to be?” I say.

  Uncle Stretch says nothing. He just stands there with his arms crossed.

  “I said, ‘Where is this supposed to be?’ ”

  “You will ask any and all questions with respect, or you won’t ask them at all.”

  “Why should I respect you?” I say. “You don’t care about me. You hate me.”

  “You don’t know anything about what I think, young man.”

  “Well, can you just tell me where we are?”

  “This is the granary.”

  “What?”

  “The granary. We used to keep corn here years ago, and then later on, Roland and his friends fixed it up into a clubhouse. Roland used to sleep out here sometimes in the summer.”

  “Who’s Roland?”

  “My son.”

  “I never heard about him.”

  Uncle Stretch just stands there. The moon shines off his eyes.

  “Where’s he live now?”

  “He’s dead,” says Uncle Stretch.

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I just stand there. I kick at the saddle.

  “Bed’s still there,” says Uncle Stretch. “There’s some horse blankets over in that corner.” He points.

  “I’m supposed to sleep out here or something?” I get a worried feeling in my gut.

  “You’re not sleeping in my house until you can learn respect.”

  “I’ve got respect!” I say. “I’ve got all kinds of respect!”

  Uncle Stretch takes a step at me like he’s going to go for my neck again. I flinch and back up.

  “No, you don’t,” he says. He turns and disappears down the hole in the floor, and it’s me, a saddle, an old bed, some horse blankets, and the moon.

  I look around the place, but everything’s mostly dark. I have to get right up to something to see it. There are a couple of posters on one wall, a couple of football guys I’ve never heard of, Joe Montana and Tommy Kramer. There are also some smaller pictures. I have to get really close to see, but when I do, I nearly jump back. Women in swimsuits! In one, this lady wears a swimsuit that looks as if it is made of black rubber instead of normal swimsuit material. The rubber swimsuit also looks like it was made for a one-armed person. Half of it is missing, although the lady is covering up her bare breast with her arm. She also has a diving mask up on her forehead and is sucking her finger. Looking at the way she is sucking on that finger sends a surge of blood through my body. It’s too dark to see it really good, though. I’ll have to remember to look at it better during the daytime.

  There’s an old exercise bike in one corner, and some barbell weights on the floor and other junk I can’t see. Some bottles and jars sit up higher on a shelf, but I don’t even want to know what’s in them. Probably booze or pee or pig pee.

  I go over to the bed. When I lift the blanket, a big cloud of dust scatters up and gets in my eyes and mouth. I cough for a while until the dust settles. I go over to the pile of horse blankets in the corner and lift one up, and another dust cloud rises. I hack and cough, and chuck the thing against the wall. More dust spreads out, and I have to hang out on the other side of the room for a while.

  I sit on the exercise bike and put my feet on the pedals. I push them a few times before the gear gets stuck and the pedals won’t go. I start hearing little creaks and clicks. I wonder how many mice or rabid raccoons or skunks live here. There are probably all sorts of wild animals waiting to take a chomp out of my leg. We’ll see who the sorry one is when I wake up dead tomorrow. I hope someone sues Uncle Stretch for putting me in this situation. He’ll get arrested. He can spend some time in jail then, which isn’t much better than this.

  I stare at the moon. I have never been so bored, mad, tired, lonely, scared, trapped. I think about crying or sneaking back into the house, where I’m sure Penny and Pauly are happily snoring away. I don’t dare.

  “Where am I?” I say to myself about a hundred times. I think for a while and then say, “Why am I here?” about a hundred more.

  Nobody speaks up to answer my question, not Joe Montana or Tommy Kramer, not the finger-sucking lady in the rubber swimsuit, not even me.

  Chapter 4

  Penny Defends Her Faith

  Dear Mom,

  I’m glad to hear that you’ve hired a good lawyer. I really don’t know what I’d do if you had to go to prison for a long, long time! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that would be!? Do you realize what that would be like for Dad and all of us? Now that I’m here, I can certainly see why Stretch couldn’t give you the money for your bail and why he offered to take us kids instead. This farm doesn’t look like it produces much money at all. Everything’s old. And Stretch doesn’t look like he has a single cent in his pocket. No wonder he couldn’t help you. Now that we’re here, he’ll probably just use us as slave labor.

  Pauly and Percy are doing all right. Actually, they both sort of act as though they don’t remember our entire family is falling apart right before our eyes! You’ll be thrilled to hear, I bet, that Pauly has taken to Stretch very well. They’re basically best pals. Stretch makes pancakes for Pauly every morning. Then Pauly follows Stretch around all day, working little jobs Stretch makes up for him, like pulling dandelions out of the potato field, picking slugs off the cabbage leaves, and digging for earthworms to put in the compost pile, the dirtiest job of all, which, of course, is Pauly’s favorite. Wrapping worms around his fingers is his idea of heaven. He’s so young and so simple. He doesn’t even realize that we’re not going to be the same old nuclear family ever again.

  Since Pauly’s adopted, he probably thinks that people get new families every now and again throughout their lives, and they just have to adjust. Do you realize how warped that is? I’m really afraid that all of this stress is going to leave him with trusting and bonding issues later in life. I’ve read about these Romanian orphans who grew up in state-run orphanages. They were never held or talked to and sat in wet diapers in crowded cribs all day, every day. They grew up not knowing how to love! Lots of families adopted these poor souls only to learn that the children couldn’t bond and had reactive attachment disorder (I printed out some information on it and included it here, so I hope you read it!), and the families had to send them back to Romania.

  I don’t want that to happen to Pauly. I think you should really consider that, Mom. Was all this business with drug pedaling (that’s what Dad called it once in an argument I overheard) really worth risking your children’s bonding capabilities? Was it worth losing your husband? Why not just take the plea deal, say you’re sorry to the court and to Dad, and get this all over with? I know Dad would forgive you and take you back. He even told me so. All you have to do is repent. Let’s get back to normal, please.

  When I get married, I am never, ever going to do anything that would make my husband want to divorce me. I might even move back to the Philippines so that my husband can never, ever divorce me, no matter what.

  What happened to Stretch’s wife? I saw a picture taken on their wedding day.
You were in the picture, too. You had on a really pretty bridesmaid dress with a very silly hat. You looked happy, though, and so did Stretch. He looked much better without that dumb mustache, in my opinion.

  When Stretch saw me looking at it, he barked at me and told me to quit snooping! So if he tells you I was snooping, I want you to know that I was not. I was organizing the closets. Then he told me I’m starting to look just like you did when you were young, before Dad ruined your life. I did not like that. It’s not nice to pretend to be giving people a compliment and then slam them with an insult about their dad. Please have a word with him about saying bad things about Dad.

  Stretch is trying to take Dad’s place, and I don’t like that, either! Pauly and Percy may be falling for Stretch’s games, but I am not. What he’s doing is called parental alienation syndrome (I’ve included a printout I made at the library, so you can read about it, too). Dad is a hundred times better than Stretch. Dad is a minister, and Stretch is just a dumb organic farmer whose horses don’t even look like they could carry ten pounds. Anybody would agree with me. If this is a Horse Camp, then a Horse Camp is a disaster, a calamity, a fiasco, a mess, a hoax, a ruse. A Horse Camp is definitely something much worse than it was supposed to be. If there’s one thing that Percy and I can agree on, it’s that Horse Camp is a big, fat joke.

  Percy had a short fight with Stretch. It ended up with Percy sleeping outside in the granary, which, instead of punishment, turned out to be a reward in Percy’s dumb eyes. He’s so immature. He spends tons of time there now. I think he’s looking at old football magazines and stuff, though I don’t know because I am not a snoop. Percy is totally obsessed with football. It’s all he talks about, sometimes. I just know that at night, when he’s supposed to be saying his prayers, he’s actually thinking about football players.

  Percy did tell me that when Stretch was yelling at him, he let it slip that he had a son who died. What happened to Stretch’s son? Why did he die? Why didn’t you tell me? I hope he accepted Jesus as his personal lord and savior before he died. From what I know of Stretch, though, this seems highly unlikely. The apple never falls far from the tree, Dad always says.

  Thanks for sending my Zombie Cowboy books to Stretch’s farm. I plan to read them very, very carefully so I can develop a good lesson plan for the youth ministry program at Dad’s new church. I can’t wait to tell all those girls why it’s a sin to read about falling in love with zombies or vampires or werewolves. I made a PowerPoint presentation to explain how books in the Zombie Cowboy series use clever, handsome, sweet-talking, 1800s zombie cowboys to romance girls with their southern drawls and good manners. I can’t wait to tell all those naïve girls about how reading those books leads to promiscuity. I have a whole ten-minute lecture on how the Zombie Cowboy series encourages the occult and invites the devil into your life. Also, Percy and Pauly each liked the new shoes that you sent, but they probably won’t remember to tell you thank you, so I will do it on their behalf.

  Thank you. Well, that’s about all for now, I guess.

  God loves you,

  Penny

  Dear Dad,

  How are the preparations for the new church building going? How exciting! I can’t wait to see it. I’ve got some really good ideas for the youth ministry program that I could be in charge of. I am currently compiling a list of books about vampires, werewolves, zombies, wizards, and witches that no young person should read because, as you have preached many times, those kinds of books invite the occult and the devil into the readers’ heart.

  You must be very, very busy, since we haven’t heard from you in a long time. No worries, though. I’m doing my best to keep the boys and myself out of trouble and in God’s grace.

  If at all possible, maybe you could arrange to have Percy, Pauly, and me come to the new church’s inauguration? I think it’s important for us to show the congregation a unified family. Stretch does not attend church, so we haven’t attended one service since we’ve been here.

  Please write! I miss you.

  Love,

  Penelope

  Dear Diary,

  Yesterday while taking a break from painting these run-down, old bird feeders, a job that Guess Who (yep, Stretch!) gave me, I was snooping around and found a picture of Stretch on his wedding day! Before we came here, I didn’t even know Stretch had been married and had a son who died, which Mom failed to tell me, so I had to hear it from Percy. He acted like a big know-it-all in the process, of course.

  Losing a wife and a son is so sad. These tragedies probably explain why Stretch is so crabby and why he doesn’t go to church. He’s probably mad at God for taking his family away.

  I guess he doesn’t know that you have to turn to God, not away from Him, when bad things happen. I’ve been praying night and day for God to restore my family to the way it was. I just know He can do it if I’m sincere and good enough to deserve it. He can help Mom see how bad she’s been and help her change her life for the better. I’m trying to be patient.

  Percy is driving me crazy. He never wants to talk about anything important. Like this morning, when I asked him how he was dealing with everything, he said that he was fine. Fine?! I don’t think so! I mean, he’s living in the middle of nowhere while our parents are getting a divorce! I think he’s in denial. Maybe I will try really hard to get him to open up about his true feelings. It’s not good to keep them all bundled up the way he is. He acts like everything is just fine, but it’s not.

  I had a really good talk with Pauly about everything. Since no one else is mature enough to help him through the disintegration of our nuclear family, I guess I have to. I almost wish my conversation with him would have been taped or recorded so Mom could watch it and see how terrible this is for Pauly. If my cell phone had any modern applications, I could have recorded it. But since it doesn’t, I couldn’t. Luckily, I remember everything.

  Firstly, I told Pauly that I knew this was a really hard time for him. I said if he wanted to, he could ask me any questions. He asked me if he could have a Popsicle. I told him that’s not the kind of question I meant. Then I told him that he should know that even though Dad and Mom sent us here for a little while, they both still love him a lot, especially Dad.

  Pauly was just looking around, not concentrating, a sure sign of distress. I asked him if he was confused about anything. He inquired what the word lackadaisical meant, although of course he didn’t say it right. When I asked him why, he said it was because Uncle Stretch had commented that Pauly’s hair looked like a lackadaisical cat resting on his head. I told Pauly to never mind that, and that his hair looked fine.

  Next, I asked Pauly if he was confused about who was in his nuclear family or who is in charge and who he should be listening to. He said that he thought Uncle Stretch was in charge of him, and I told him it was not just Uncle Stretch, but me, too. He asked if Percy was in charge of him, too, but I told him to never mind Percy, which made Pauly smile.

  He must have been feeling better then, because he started talking about cartoons, some of which are violent, like SpongeBob SquarePants, but I chalked that up to Pauly’s trusting me, and I decided not to shame him for watching cartoons. I just hope he isn’t turning to false idols at such an early age!

  I asked Pauly if he remembered to pray nightly, and I told him that if he needs guidance or feels lonely, to just talk with God. He said that he forgot to pray two days before, and then he asked me for a Popsicle again. He said Stretch wouldn’t give him one because it would give him a tapeworm, which I cannot condone saying to a child. Putting all that fear in his heart is a terrible thing to do unless it’s fear of the Lord. I gave him a red Popsicle and a big hug and told him if he wanted to cry on my shoulder, too, he could, but he said he’d rather just eat his Popsicle.

  I will have my hands full making sure I’m there for Pauly, so he doesn’t crumble under the weight of his feelings of abandonment and confusion.

  DEAR OKONKWO,

  I ENJOYED RECEIVING THE PHO
TOGRAPH OF YOU AND YOUR NEW GOAT. WHAT DO YOU FEED HIM? DOES HE HAVE A NAME? I USED TO LIVE IN AFRICA, TOO, BUT NOW I AM LIVING IN AN AGRICULTURAL COMMUNITY WHERE EVERYONE HELPS EVERYONE, JUST LIKE IN YOUR VILLAGE! I ALSO HAVE MANY CHORES. FOR INSTANCE, I HAVE TO BABYSIT MY BROTHERS, WATER THE HOUSEPLANTS, HANG THE CLOTHES ON THE LINE TO DRY, MAKE SANDWICHES FOR LUNCH, AND FEED THE HORSES AND OTHER ANIMALS. AS YOU CAN SEE, I ALSO HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO AND MANY ANIMALS TO CARE FOR, JUST LIKE YOU DO. PROBABLY MORE THAN YOU DO!

  WE HAVE SOME COWS, PIGS, CHICKENS, DOGS, AND A COUPLE OF HORSES WHO ARE VERY OLD. WE HAVE MANY, MANY CATS AROUND HERE. DO YOU HAVE A CAT? I AM VERY HAPPY THAT YOU ARE ABLE TO BUY BOOKS FOR SCHOOL WITH THE MONEY I SENT. I HAVE LOTS OF MONEY FOR BOOKS, AND I READ A LOT. YOU WILL SOON BE SURPRISED BY HOW MUCH YOU CAN LEARN FROM A BOOK.

  DO YOU HAVE A BIBLE? THAT IS BY FAR THE BEST BOOK THERE IS IN THE WHOLE WORLD. IT IS JUST FULL OF THE GOOD STORIES THAT TEACH YOU HOW TO LIVE YOUR LIFE. THE BIBLE TELLS ALL ABOUT JESUS, WHO SAID THE NICEST THINGS, LIKE THE MEEK SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH AND BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS. THERE ARE SOME OTHER RULES IN THERE, TOO, LIKE HONOR YOUR FATHER AND MOTHER AND DO NOT COMMIT ADULTERY OR STEAL OR MURDER ANYBODY. I READ THAT THERE IS A LOT OF ADULTERY AND STEALING IN YOUR PART OF THE WORLD, WHERE NOT EVERYONE KNOWS ABOUT JESUS YET. MAYBE WHEN YOU GET YOUR BIBLE, YOU CAN TEACH THE OTHER PEOPLE IN YOUR LITTLE VILLAGE JESUS’S LESSONS. THAT WOULD MAKE DONATING ALL THIS MONEY TO YOU WORTH IT IN MY EYES!

  WRITE SOON,

  PENELOPE PRIBYL

  Chapter 5

  Percy’s Friend Elle

  I’VE BEEN SLEEPING out in the granary for a week now, and you know what? I like it. And I like talking to Elle, too. Elle is the finger-sucking woman in the rubber swimsuit with the diving mask on her head and her arm covering one of her breasts, which is bare because it is not covered by the swimsuit for whatever reason, which I don’t mind. I know her name is Elle because, on the bottom of the page it says, Elle’s Lisa Lomas suit ($52) should give her an unusual tan.