Carrie saw Milla staring at her. She gave her a little wave and Milla nodded and then turned back to her card. The class became noisier and noisier as they discussed their horse breeds. Jed was just about to look at his watch when the buzzer sounded.
“Aw,” moaned the children in unison. Jed walked around the room collecting the cards. Kris pushed back his chair and seemed relaxed. Carrie felt totally unprepared. I thought this was supposed to be a game, she thought. This feels too much like school and stupid tests. Now the whole class will hear me say something wrong and Kris will hate me and this dumb game will ruin camp for me. She frowned at Milla, who was smiling and chatting with Leah. Just then she remembered Kris’s incorrect answer. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad; maybe even Milla would miss some answers, too. What was the big deal anyway and how could any kid know all of the stuff on the cards? she wondered, looking around at the other students.
Jed stood at the front of the room smiling. “Okay, gang. It’s time for the fun part. Each of you pick number one or two. After you decide which of you is one and which of you is two I want all of the Ones on this side of the room and all of the Twos on the other side.” Kris and Carrie looked at each other confused. How were they supposed to work as a team if they were being split up?
“You want to be one or two?” asked Kris.
“I like even, so I’ll be two,” said Carrie, looking over at Milla.
“Good luck,” said Kris as he walked over to stand with the Ones. Carrie walked over to the Twos and found Milla standing there.
“Hey,” said Carrie.
“Hey,” Milla replied.
“I didn’t think you’d make it today,” said Carrie.
“Long story.”
“Okay, now here is how this works,” Jed announced. “You are two teams working against each other. When I ask a question, raise your hand if you know the answer. I will pick one person from each team. The team that gets the most answers is the winner.”
“What’s the prize…what’s the prize?” they squealed.
“The losers have to shovel manure all day,” said Jed.
“Nooooooo,” yelled all of the kids, jumping up and down.
“Just kidding,” said Jed. “The winners will just have to wait and see.”
Carrie forgot about school and tests and getting answers wrong as she was too busy having fun. She looked around and watched as the students were chattering away. They were tall and short, thin and round, dark and light, and they varied in age. She had learned that some of the other kids had parents who were divorced too. Some came from poor families and some came from wealthy ones. It really didn’t matter; they were all here learning and laughing. The Horse Bee had the students snickering as Jed pretended to be a game show host, using a microphone made out of an ear of corn. The children volleyed back and forth scoring points. Carrie was thrilled when she correctly answered a question about Appaloosas. Milla was shocked when even Leah, a teacher for goodness sakes, got a Clydesdale question wrong. Fifteen minutes later it was over and Carrie and Milla moaned as the other team was jumping for joy. The Twos watched as the Ones received coupons for free pizza from a favorite pizza joint in Reno. Kris, waving his coupon, yelled over to Carrie. Carrie laughed, thinking he looked as goofy as the little boys running around with their prizes. They all headed to the art class and Carrie paused to look once again at the poster depicting the different horses from around the world. And as she slowly walked to class, she shook her head in wonder, marveling over the differences between the horses of the Calico Mountains and the similarities among the kids in the Hidden Valley Horse and Art Camp.
Chapter 44
The steam from the shower fogged the mirror and when Milla wiped it with a towel a smudgy miserable version of herself stared back. It was dawn and she had crept in to claim the bathroom after hearing Mr. Adams’ car pull out of the driveway. She checked the bathroom lock for the tenth time. She had spent another restless night in what Mrs. Adams called the “makeshift parlor bedroom.” It was more like a museum with a cot in it. The room was filled with glass figurines of poodles and parrots. Mrs. Adams apparently had a thing for them. She had even framed and glued puzzles of poodle puppies and hung them between sconces of what looked to Milla like angry parrots ready to peck your eyes out if you broke the look-but-don’t-touch rule. The furniture was old and fragile and Milla thought she would surely break something if she sneezed.
She dressed quickly and carried her towel to the laundry room. Mrs. Adams had told her germ-free laundry was more important than conserving water so she washed everyone’s used towels daily. Milla had been taught the importance of recycling and cringed as she threw the wet towel into the basket. She tiptoed back to her cot hoping to have more alone time before the rest of the family woke. As she turned the corner she heard someone run down the hall and a door being shut. She stood in place frozen, not wanting to move. Each day she would try to avoid Mrs. Adams’ darling son, Ulysses, better known to her as Foot. Here in his home he somehow avoided punishment, whereas in school it was a different story. It seemed to Milla he spent more time in detention than any other kid. She walked back to the parlor and looked around at the room. Everything seemed in order and the angry parrot sconces were still standing guard with beaks and wings open wide. Everything except her backpack, that is. It had been moved from under her cot and lay crumpled under the spindly-legged couch. She raced over to it trying to remember everything she had packed. Luckily her journal was safe at home. She pulled out her clothes and her face grew hot as she thought of Foot looking at her underwear. They were still hidden inside her other clothes—whew, what a relief. But her sketchpad looked as if it had been messed with. Slowly she opened the page and that’s when she saw it. Someone had placed a newspaper clipping with the words “Horse Killer” written in red over the article.
BLM ROUND-UP KICKS UP PROTEST
Saddlecrest, Nevada – The Bureau of Land Management announced it will hold another massive round-up of wild horses in the Calico Mountains. Over twenty horses are reported to have died in the last Calico round-up. This does not include the fifteen mares that aborted late term foals in the Painted Ridge Wild Horse and Burro facility. The BLM has decided not to provide veterinary reports on the cause of death in the Painted Ridge facility, according to BLM manager Devon Spencer.
Milla didn’t bother to read the rest of the article. I will not cry, she said to herself. Foot’s a jerk. I will not cry, she said again, feeling her face flushing hot. She blinked back tears and shoved everything into her backpack. She wished she could run the short distance to her house, but what good would that do? Her house would be locked and empty. She thought back to the conversation with her dad yesterday morning as he drove her to camp. He looked awful and she knew he wasn’t sleeping and not really paying attention to her as she pleaded with him to let her stay in their house alone. It was useless. He warned her he had no time for drama. That’s what he always said, but what would he say about the creepy thing Foot had placed in her backpack?
Mrs. Adams was in the kitchen humming as she began to make breakfast. Her children must be the only kids on the block who ate quiche for breakfast. Milla kept her head down and tried to block out the tune with which Mrs. Adams was serenading her. Each morning it was the same routine. Mrs. Adams would wake and spray every surface with ammonia and wipe every counter. This seemed odd to Milla, as the woman had done the same thing before she went to bed. Did she think somehow elves sprinkled germs to attack her kitchen overnight? And to make matters worse, after the ammonia bit, she then sprayed air freshener until Milla choked. Now the entire house had an ammonia lemon scent. Sheesh—and she wondered why Milla never had an appetite. Apparently the yellow-aproned lady only knew one humming song. Milla sank into her book, desperately trying to ignore the sixth verse of “Coming Round the Mountain.”
Fern walked into the kitchen carrying her towel. Milla looked up and nodded and Fern shot her a chilly hello. Milla hadn’t really me
ant to be unfriendly to Fern; it was just that she didn’t want to be there. Hanging out with someone and staying in their oddball family’s house was another thing. Next Foot bumped into her chair accidently on purpose, causing Milla to bite down on her tongue sharply. Her book flew across the table and crashed into the powder-pink vase of flowers, toppling it over. Milla tasted blood and got up to go rinse her mouth.
“It’s okay,” said Mrs. Adams as she quickly mopped up the water and examined the unbroken vase. “You didn’t break anything this time Milla, but please try to be more careful.”
Foot smirked as he went to help his mother.
“I’ll do this, Mom. You go back to your cooking,” he said innocently.
“Oh, Ulysses, you are such a darling,” she sighed, tousling his hair.
Milla went to the bathroom and locked the door. She rinsed her mouth and washed her face. “I will not cry, I will not cry,” she said to her reflection.
Ten minutes later she was standing on the corner waiting for the van that would take her to art camp. As it pulled up, a smiling Jed along with a few noisy students greeted her. Milla got in and settled into her seat. She thought of the newspaper clipping and the words “Horse Killer” scribbled in red across the page. Her dad had often told her to ignore stories she heard on the playground. This seemed different. How did he get up and go to work every day and do what he did and not be bothered by the stuff they wrote about him in the papers? She wished her grandma were here to explain everything the way she used to. She grinned thinking of what Grandma would say to Mrs. Adams about water conservation. Man, would she let her have it, thought Milla.
They pulled into the long driveway and the children waved to Candy and Roxie, who were trotting along the fence trying to match the pace of the van. Milla looked over to Hope’s pen but didn’t see the little foal. The van came to a stop and everyone got out. Carrie was talking to Mrs. Preston and her grandchildren, Mac and Tracey. How lucky, thought Milla, to be able to go to work with your grandmother every day. Mrs. Preston was a wonderful artist and she had even known Milla’s grandmother. Just the other day she had given Milla the greatest compliment of all when she told her that her painting reminded her of Milla’s grandmother’s style.
Carrie walked over and nudged her. Milla nodded and remained silent. “Another bad night?” asked Carrie.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I have a surprise for you,” said Carrie, changing the subject.
“Yeah, what? I know, let me guess—Flannel had puppies and I get the first pick,” Milla said sarcastically.
“Guess who’s staying at my house for the next two nights?” Carrie asked, grinning. Milla was too afraid to say a word. She hoped it was Carrie’s way of saying she was inviting her to stay, but maybe it was a relative of Carrie’s coming for a visit.
“Geez, Milla, you’re not even gonna try to guess?”
“Um, I don’t know, maybe your grandparents from New Jersey?” she asked.
“No, YOU are, dummy,” Carrie yelled. All at once Milla grabbed Carrie and hugged her tight. Carrie looked around not wanting anyone to see them as Milla was now sobbing on her shoulder. Mrs. Preston looked up and carefully led Milla to a quiet place in her office as Carrie followed along.
Milla finally stopped crying and blew her nose. Mrs. Preston spoke softly to her and gave her a glass of water. “You’re always welcome to come to me anytime,” she said. “If you want I can speak to your dad about Mrs. Adams’ son.”
“It’s not just that,” Milla said, getting her composure back. “My dad’s really busy and I don’t understand these news articles and I just wish he would talk to me, but he won’t. He thinks I’m a little kid and…I think he wishes I were a boy,” she said, looking down at her sneakers. She hadn’t meant to blurt out that last part. She hadn’t told anyone this before. It kinda slipped out and now she felt embarrassed.
“Oh, Milla,” Mrs. Preston said quietly. “Sometimes parents seem as if they aren’t listening, but your dad cares very deeply for you. Maybe when the crisis over at Painted Ridge settles down the three of us can sit and have a nice chat. I’ve known your dad since he was a baby. I think I can help,” she said.
“I know my dad loves me. It’s just that since Grandma died…well, he’s different. We used to be able to talk about all kinds of stuff, but now he seems so serious. I try to tell him about how unhappy I am and he doesn’t have time or says I’m being dramatic.”
“I understand that you’ll be staying at Carrie’s house for a little while,” said Mrs. Preston. “I think getting away from Foot will do you good. Bullies usually pick on others because they’re unhappy with themselves. I know that doesn’t make it any better, but I think the boy is acting out because he’s dealing with his own issues.”
“Oh, he has plenty of issues,” said Milla smirking. “But he’s a cruel person and I don’t want to be near him. I feel sorry for his sister, Fern.”
The sounds of children hurrying to class drifted into the office. “Well, it’s time for class. Let’s get going,” Mrs. Preston said as she squeezed Milla’s shoulder. “Remember, you can always come and talk whenever you need to. I’ll give your dad a call when things calm down at the center.”
Carrie looked up as Milla came and sat beside her. Milla gave her a half smile to let her know all was well. After listening to the instructions the students gathered their art supplies and headed out to watch as Jed tethered Eclipse to a post. He made the lead line long enough so the horse could graze on the little bits of weeds that poked out of the ground.
The students walked around until they found a place they liked and sat down. Some were on benches, some were on lawn chairs, and a few were leaning against the posts of the corral. Dusky wasn’t very happy about being left alone in the pen and called to Eclipse with loud neighs, only to be ignored by the grazing horse.
Mrs. Preston started every class in total silence. The children sat and watched the horse grazing for a few minutes and then slowly closed their eyes. She told them to imagine themselves as Eclipse nibbling away at the grass. In the beginning the children had giggled nervously, but now they really enjoyed pretending they were horses. “Feel the sun as it hits the top of your mane. Notice how your leg has to stretch so that you can reach down to the grass,” said the teacher. “Your ears are alert as you listen to the sounds all around you and your muscles are slightly tensed. Feel your long black shiny tail as it whips across your back.”
Milla sat with her eyes shut and imagined she was no longer human. She allowed herself to feel the strength of this gorgeous painted horse before her. She felt every inch of his pride as she imagined herself sleek and magnificent. Slowly she opened her eyes and began to sketch.
Mrs. Preston walked slowly around the class and quietly made comments. Carrie was busy watching the younger children sketching with serious looks on their faces. Milla glanced over at Carrie’s sketch and thought it looked much better than some of her previous work. Mrs. Preston stopped behind Milla and studied the sketch. “Milla, you have actually drawn him in motion. This is very good,” she said, continuing along making comments to other children. Milla looked at her drawing and saw that she had drawn what looked like Eclipse in several positions since the horse kept moving as she was sketching.
“Cool,” Carrie said, looking over her shoulder. “How did you do that?”
“I’m not sure,” said Milla. “It’s kind of an accident.”
Kris came over to look at Milla’s drawing. “Yours is always the best one. I wish I knew how to draw accidents,” he said.
“Thanks,” she replied. Carrie went back to her drawing and Milla watched as Kris sat down beside a few younger kids. Why, oh, why couldn’t Fern have had a boy like Kris for a brother. He wasn’t mean to girls and he was smart in a way that he didn’t brag about himself. Yep, Kris wouldn’t put up with a bully. Maybe she would ask him what he would do if he had to deal with Foot. No, that was dumb, Kris would just f
lat out knock the bully down with one punch. But there had to be a better way, she thought. I wonder what Grandma did when she met a bully. Milla closed her eyes and thought of her grandma. She thought of her smile and the touch of her wrinkly skin when she hugged her. She breathed in and smelled the fragrance of soap her grandmother used. Then she imagined her grandma as a young girl facing a bully like Foot. I know something about you, her grandmother said to the bully, and when I tell everyone at school you will never bother me again. Milla suddenly opened her eyes. Where did that thought come from, she wondered. Is that how Grandma would deal with a bully? Did Milla know anything embarrassing about Foot? She smiled thinking about what her grandma would do. “Thanks, Grandma,” she said out loud.
“Huh?” Carrie asked. “Did you say something?” Milla just smiled as she began to gather her belongings. It was time for their next class and she was feeling better about things. Mrs. Burke stopped by and said something to Mrs. Preston.
“Carrie and Milla,” said Mrs. Preston. “Will you please go with Mrs. Burke? She can use your help.” They both hurried to find Hope standing alone tied to a post. The little foal looked up as Mrs. Burke untied her and handed her lead to Milla. As they walked back to the Rescue Center Mrs. Burke explained the work that went into caring for the tiny foals. She gave them each a bottle and then went to find another new foal that had just arrived a few days earlier.
“You think she’s being nice to us because she heard about me crying?” asked Milla.
“Who cares,” Carrie replied as she petted the little palomino. Hope nudged Milla’s arm, sniffing at the bottle. Mrs. Burke returned with a tiny brown foal. “We call him Mouse,” she said, handing the lead to Carrie. “I have a million things to do around here, so just feed them until the bottles are empty and then you can take them for a little walk in the paddock. Just keep a good hold on their lead lines because foals are really frisky. I’ll be right over there with the other horses, so holler if you need me.”
Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail Page 20