Ground Training

by Bonnie Bryant

  “No,” A.J. said quietly. “You can’t.” He was still looking up at the trees, but now his expression was more remote, as if he were actually staring at something far, far above them. “But I can tell you, it really sucks.”

  Stevie held her breath. I think that’s one of the most honest things A.J. has said to anyone since this whole mess started, she thought.

  “We hear you,” Phil told his friend. “And we want to help. We really do.”

  A.J. shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s nice and all,” he said. “But there’s not much you can do, you know? I mean, it’s not like anyone can change the past. I just wish I could forget about it. Things were a lot easier before I knew.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Stevie said. “But what’s done is done. Now you’ve got to figure out how to deal with it.”

  A.J. turned and blinked at her. “But what if I don’t want to deal with it? Can’t I just forget it ever happened?” He sighed and answered his own question. “No way. There’s no way I can forget, no matter how hard I try. Like I said, it sucks.”

  Stevie was glad that A.J. was finally opening up a little. But as he blinked at her again, suddenly looking rather sleepy and out of it, she couldn’t help wondering if they were really making any kind of breakthrough.

  After all, she told herself, this won’t change a thing if he doesn’t remember any of it once his buzz wears off.

  Lisa chewed her onion ring slowly and glanced at Alex, who was sitting across from her at the round metal food-court table. He was busily picking the lettuce off his club sandwich, and that seemed to require all his concentration. At least Lisa hoped that was why neither of them had said a word in the past two or three minutes.

  It was weird. One of the nicest things about being with Alex had always been that the two of them never ran out of things to say to each other. Even when there was nothing in particular going on in their lives, they had been happy to discuss silly things, like what they would take with them to a deserted island. Or they could spend the better part of an evening finding new and creative ways to compliment each other, or coming up with goofy pet names, or talking about what kind of house they might like to live in someday. But now, even after being apart for the better part of the past month, it seemed that they had already run out of topics of conversation.

  She had first noticed it half an hour earlier when Alex had been trying on basketball shoes at the sporting-goods store in another part of the mall. As she watched him lace up pair after pair of sneakers, she’d actually started to feel a bit bored. It was an odd feeling, and one she’d never thought she would feel as long as she and Alex were together.

  What’s with me today? she wondered, reaching for another onion ring. It’s not as if there’s nothing to talk about these days. It’s just that it seems like we’ve already covered them all.

  She thought back to their conversation earlier in the day. On the ride over to the mall, after that little near argument about her Thanksgiving plans and their brief chat about A.J., they had spent the next few miles discussing the trig test Alex had taken that day at school. Next they had speculated a little more about Stevie and Phil’s progress with A.J. out on the trails behind Cross County. By that time they’d reached the mall, and soon afterward the conversation had tapered off. Aside from a lengthy discussion of whether they should head back into town to their favorite burger place or just pick up something at the mall food court, they hadn’t found much to talk about that could hold their attention for more than a minute or two.

  I guess the problem is that most of the important topics just don’t seem safe right now, Lisa thought, dabbing grease off her chin with a napkin. I mean, the last thing I want to do is bring up my trip to California again. Alex has never exactly been reasonable about that particular subject, and I’m already feeling weird about it myself because of this whole college thing.

  Unfortunately, her decision about where to go to college was another topic that she didn’t feel completely comfortable discussing with Alex. When she’d first told him of her choice to attend NVU, he had been really supportive, just as she had expected. But since then he’d made a few comments about it that made her think that maybe he wasn’t behind her a hundred percent after all. He always backed away from the remarks, so she still wasn’t sure what was bugging him about it. And she wasn’t sure that she really wanted to know. It was all she could do to deal with her parents’ disapproval as it was.

  As she was thinking about all the lectures she was in for when her father got hold of her, she suddenly felt something nudging at her shin. “Eep!” she cried, startled, as she automatically jerked her foot back.

  When she glanced across the table, she saw that Alex was grinning at her mischievously. “What?” he said with mock surprise. “You mean you aren’t up for a little footsie?”

  Lisa relaxed, then laughed. Slipping off one of her flats, she reached across the space beneath the table until she found Alex’s leg. Wriggling her stockinged foot between his high-top and the hem of his jeans, she tweaked him with her toes. “You mean like this?”

  Alex scooted his chair around the table until he was right next to her. “Actually, let’s forget about footsie, my beautiful mall rat,” he murmured, slipping one arm around her waist and lifting his other hand to her chin, tilting her face toward his. “Did you ever wonder what it’s like to kiss a guy with bacon breath?”

  Lisa smiled as her lips met his. Letting her eyes close, she forgot all about her worries. Who needed constant conversation when they still had wonderful romantic moments like these?

  “So what should we do?” Phil muttered. “He just about finished off that Thermos. And for a while there I thought he was going to pass out right on top of the food. I’m starting to think he’s too toasted to ride, especially on these trails.”

  Stevie glanced over at A.J., who was licking potato chip crumbs off his fingers and offering a piece of apple to Crystal with his other hand. It had been Stevie’s brilliant idea to drop the apple slice on the ground as a pretense for insisting that A.J. go over and feed it to the horses. That way she and Phil could hold a quick, private conference back at the picnic area. After his comments about the adoption a few minutes earlier, A.J. hadn’t been very interested in talking about himself. He’d returned to praising Julianna for a while, describing her amazing singing voice again before slipping into a garbled medley of favorite Broadway show tunes.

  “I know,” Stevie said worriedly. “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he took a nap before we head back.” She glanced at the sky, noting the pink cast of the clouds as the sun sank slowly toward the tree line. “A short one, I mean. Or maybe one of us should lead Crystal, and—”

  Before she could finish the sentence, a loud snort cut her off. It was Crystal. The mare was tossing her head, clearly startled by the fact that A.J. was now hanging off the side of her saddle, clinging to the cantle and doing his best to clamber aboard.

  “A.J.!” Phil shouted, jumping to his feet. “What are you doing?”

  A.J.’s hand slipped, and for a second Stevie thought he was going to fall. But then he got a grip on the pommel with one hand and a fistful of Crystal’s wavy pale mane with the other. Heaving himself upward, he managed to get each of his legs on the proper side of the mare’s saddle. Then he grabbed the reins and glanced over at Stevie and Phil with a grin. “Yeee-hah!” he whooped. “Let’s see if you slowpokes can catch us this time!” He kicked Crystal sharply in the side and snapped his reins like a cowboy in a cheesy Western, at the same time letting out another shrill whoop.

  With pounding hooves, Crystal broke from a dead halt into a gallop and raced down the trail, sending twigs and stones flying in every direction. A.J.’s giddy cries drifted back to Stevie and Phil as they stared after him, too frozen with surprise and horror to move.

  ELEVEN

  “Here, let me carry that,” George said as Callie grabbed her backpack off the bench in the locker room and swung toward th
e door. “It looks too heavy for you to manage with your crutches.”

  Callie had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at George’s offer. She had come straight to Pine Hollow after school, so her bag was packed with several textbooks as well as her purse and a few other items. It was pretty heavy, but it certainly wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

  “Thanks,” she said, biting back a more irritated response. “But I’ve got it covered.” Before George could protest, she stopped and leaned on one crutch while she shrugged the backpack on over her shoulders.

  George watched her, looking concerned, but he didn’t say another word about it. Instead he pointed forward as they continued on their way.

  “Watch it,” he said as they approached the stable entrance. “Looks like somebody needs to get out the pooper scooper. Don’t step in it.”

  Oh, please? Can’t I? Callie thought sarcastically, glancing down briefly at the pile of fresh manure just inside the door. But she just smiled tightly at George. “Right. Thanks.” Polly had departed a little while earlier despite Callie’s best efforts, and George had insisted on helping her finish up with Windsor. Now he was walking her out to the stable yard to wait for Scott to pick her up.

  George smiled back, not seeming to notice her irritation. “Sure,” he said. “Here, let me hold the door for you.”

  Callie swung out into the pinkish late-afternoon light. She was starting to wonder if she was going to have to put up with George sticking to her like glue for the rest of her high-school career. He certainly didn’t seem to be getting bored with following her around.

  “Watch it!” George said urgently. He pointed out a rough spot ahead where Samson’s horse trailer had kicked up some gravel. It was at least five feet away, but that didn’t stop him from taking her arm and steering her in a broad circle around it.

  Callie gritted her teeth, reminding herself that he meant well. What was her problem, anyway? She always reacted as if George were some kind of criminal for being concerned about her leg or her well-being. She shouldn’t get down on him for wanting to help her.

  It’s more than that, though, she thought. It’s almost like he gets a kick out of my being helpless.

  That idea made her decidedly uncomfortable. She glanced at him sidelong. For all George’s faults, she had always thought of him as a good person. But what kind of good person wanted to see someone else helpless?

  Don’t get paranoid, kiddo, she told herself sternly. You’re just annoyed with George right now because he’s doing the leech act, so you’re looking for things to pick on about him. Making things up out of thin air. Right?

  Fortunately, Scott’s green sports car wheeled into Pine Hollow’s driveway at that moment, distracting Callie from her speculation. “There’s my ride,” she told George, relieved. “See you in school.”

  She hurried to meet Scott before he could turn into the small parking area to the left of the drive. “Whoa! Where’s the fire?” Scott joked as Callie flagged him down, opened the door, and slung her crutches and backpack into the front seat. “I thought I’d have to hang around here for ages waiting for you to get finished. I almost brought a book.”

  “Nope, I’m ready.” Callie climbed in and yanked the door shut. “Let’s hit it.”

  Scott shrugged and spun the wheel to turn the car around. Callie glanced back at George one last time as they headed down the driveway. He waved when he saw her looking, and she lifted one hand to wave back weakly, trying to ignore the weird, oddly protective expression on his round face.

  When she got home a few minutes later, Callie headed straight up to her room. She was still feeling unsettled by her latest encounter with George, though she wasn’t sure why.

  But she knew one thing. She wanted to get rid of her crutches as soon as possible. Not just because of what people back in Valley Vista might say. But because she was sick of feeling as if she wasn’t fully in control of her own body. She was sick of being at the mercy of those stupid, ugly hunks of metal she’d been lugging around for the past several months.

  Maybe George will get over it when I can walk and run and ride just as well as he can, she thought irritably. Maybe then he’ll go find some other helpless girl to follow around with his big, moony puppy-dog eyes.

  After checking to make sure her bedroom door was closed tight, Callie swung over to her desk. Leaning her crutches against it, she gripped the back of her desk chair and took a deep breath. She looked across the room at her bed. Her goal.

  “Here goes nothing,” she muttered.

  Then she pushed off, stepping forward first with her left leg. One step. Two. Her right leg quivered but held her up. Three steps. She was almost halfway there.

  Ha! she thought fiercely. Check this out, George. Looks like I don’t need you hanging around helping me anym—

  At that moment she put her weight on her right leg again—a little too hard, too fast. She felt herself start to overbalance and tilt sideways, her ankle wobbling wildly. She windmilled her arms, trying to recover.

  But it was too late. Her ankle gave out, twisting to the side. She fell forward and almost wiped out on the hardwood. By catching herself and shoving hard with her good leg, she managed to flop forward and land heavily on the end of the bed instead. Her elbow hit the bedpost with a loud smack, the impact making her whole arm go numb for a couple of seconds.

  She yelped in pain, then crawled forward until she was lying facedown in the middle of the bed. Clenching both hands into fists, she pounded on her bedspread with all her strength, tears of frustration springing to her eyes. Wasn’t she ever going to get her body back?

  “One-two-three-four. Five-six-seven-eight. Kick. Back. Kick. Back,” Carole panted under her breath, moving along to the beat of the aerobics tape on her portable stereo.

  It was almost dinnertime, and she knew she ought to go downstairs and start cooking. Her father was due home any moment, and if Carole wanted to get back in his good graces, a nice hot bowl of pasta or platter of his favorite barbecued pork chops could only help the cause.

  But she couldn’t work up enough enthusiasm to go down and get started. After all, what’s the point in trying to get back to Pine Hollow sooner? she thought gloomily. It won’t make any difference. Samson still won’t be there.

  Even as she thought it, she knew she was being melodramatic. Pine Hollow meant everything to her, with or without Samson. She had friends there, a job, and lots of other wonderful horses to care for—not least among them her own faithful gelding, Starlight. But it had been a really long, difficult day, and she couldn’t help indulging in self-pity for a little while, even as she kept kicking and lunging automatically to the aerobics instructor’s shouted instructions.

  Just then she heard a faint ringing sound over the pounding beat of the music. The phone. She was tempted to let the answering machine get it and finish her routine. But then she realized that it might be her father calling to tell her he was going to be late. Or maybe he’s checking up on me, she added. Making sure I’m right here where I’m supposed to be.

  “Ugh,” she muttered, suddenly wistful for the days when she’d known her father trusted her. Hurrying over to the stereo, she turned off the music. Then she jogged out into the hall and grabbed the phone on the fourth ring, just before the machine clicked on. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

  “Hello, is Carole Hanson there, please?” an unfamiliar male voice asked politely.

  “This is Carole.”

  “Oh! Hello, Carole. This is Craig Skippack—remember? From the Hometown Hope meeting today.”

  Carole’s heart skipped a beat. Had they figured out that she wasn’t really sick? she wondered, feeling panicky. Was this guy calling to kick her out of the group or something? Was he going to report her to Dr. Durbin?

  “Hi,” she said carefully. “Um, sure. I remember you.”

  “I hope you’re feeling better,” Craig said in a concerned voice. “Jan—er, Dr. Durbin—told me you had to leave early bec
ause you had a stomachache. I thought I should call and fill you in on what you missed.”

  “Oh, okay.” Relief washed over Carole. “Um, I mean, thanks. I’m feeling a lot better now. But I appreciate your calling.”

  “No problem.” Craig went on for a few more minutes, explaining the schedule for the upcoming park project. Carole scribbled down the dates and times and directions he gave her, along with his tips on how to dress and what to bring along.

  When he was finished, Craig asked if she had any questions. She didn’t, so they said their good-byes and hung up.

  Wandering back into her bedroom, Carole glanced at the notes she’d made and sighed. It sounded like they would be pretty busy the following week. But she knew she would probably spend every minute wishing she were teaching lessons and cleaning tack and exercising horses at Pine Hollow rather than raking up trash or whatever else they were going to be doing at that park.

  At least this Hometown Hope thing will get me out of the house, she thought, trying to look on the bright side—or at least the slightly less dark one—as she folded the schedule and tucked it into the frame of her dresser mirror where she wouldn’t be able to misplace it. And it will keep me away from Dad’s disappointed looks.

  With any luck, it might even distract her from her own gloomy thoughts, her restlessness, her almost constant feelings of sadness, disappointment, and confusion. At least for a little while.

  “Come on.” Stevie finally managed to regain control of her limbs. She raced toward Blue, gesturing for Phil to follow. “Hurry! We’ve got to catch up to him before he hurts himself. Or Crystal.”

  “Right behind you,” Phil said grimly, already heading toward Teddy.