DJ said the same to her young students at the class she taught an hour later. Perfect practice—she’d remember that one.
“When are we going on our ride up into the park?” Sam asked at the end of the session.
“You promised,” Krissie chimed in.
DJ pretended to be deep in thought. “You really think you can handle your horses well enough to leave the arena?”
At their chorus of “yes-s-s,” she grinned. “Then bring your lunches on Tuesday—in saddlebags if you have them. You’ll need signed permission slips, and I recommend you pack your sandwiches and chips and such in plastic containers so they don’t get squished. My friend Amy will be coming along. Any questions?”
All three girls wore matching grins, the kind that wrapped nearly around their heads.
“Now, take care of your horses. I see at least one mother hanging over the fence. Krissie, aren’t you in a hurry today?”
“Hey, kitty-cat.” DJ heard the nasty voice after she’d just waved her last student off.
“James, I’m gonna . . .” She spun around but couldn’t see him anywhere.
“Meow, meow, meow.” Now he sounded just like a cat food commercial.
She looked down the aisle again in time to see him duck into Diablo’s stall. Why did he always pick on her? Or did he treat everyone this way? She thought about that, all the while letting his taunting set her on a slow burn.
“Kitty-cat, kitty-cat, where are you hiding at?” Now he’d rhymed it.
DJ started down the aisle, fists clenched at her side.
“Hey, DJ, I need some help over here,” Amy called from the other end of the barn.
DJ turned and stomped back the way she’d come. She’d have to take care of James later.
“Don’t let him bug you,” Amy said after one look at DJ’s face. “He’s not worth getting all mad over.”
“He doesn’t call you names.” Without being told to, DJ held the horse while Amy picked its hooves. Since this one had a habit of reaching back to nip once in a while, they took extra precautions.
“As your Gran says, ‘sticks and stones . . . ’ ”
“I know what she says, but words do hurt. I can’t help my green eyes. Nobody else has cat’s eyes. He’s right.”
“So that makes you special.”
“Ames, sometimes you sound just like Gran.” The two giggled together.
“So, what are you doing for your birthday?” The two were ready to head home.
“I thought maybe you could come over and we’d go out for pizza and then a movie. Maybe my mom and Gran will go, too.”
“You don’t want a party?”
DJ shook her head. “Not this year. I think we’re going to get enough of birthday parties as it is.”
“Hey, Mom and Dad might hire us for Danny’s party on August tenth.” Amy swung her leg over the seat of her bike. “Great, huh?”
DJ nodded. “Flier is almost done. You want to come eat at my house so we can work on it?”
“I’ll ask.” The two pedaled hard up and down Reliez Valley Road, coasting down the last hill to their houses.
Sure hope Gran doesn’t ask me about James, DJ thought when she braked into her garage. She put her bike away and closed the garage door. She’d been extra careful lately. This was not a good time to get her mother mad. But then when was? The thought made her smile. Her mother was due back from another trip tonight. They’d talk about her birthday then.
What if her mother gave her a horse for her fourteenth? Wouldn’t that be unbelievable? The thought stopped her from getting a drink at the sink. She closed her eyes, imagining what having her own horse would be like. But when she opened them, reality took hold. The day Lindy Randall bought her daughter a horse would be the day the sky fell.
That evening the girls took their flier to the copy shop and ran off five hundred copies.
“Guess we’re in business, partner.” Amy stuck out her hand.
“Yup.” They shook and grinned at each other. This one would be a winner.
DJ fell asleep that night with twenty-dollar bills flitting through her mind.
Her birthday dawned with gray skies but brightened considerably when James’ nanny called to say he wouldn’t be at the Academy that day. DJ rushed through her work, cleaning stalls at top speed and grooming horses like a robot set on super fast.
“DJ, can you come here a minute?” Bridget called as DJ finished snapping her last horses on the hot walker.
“Sure.” DJ trotted across the dusty parking lot and into the office.
“Surprise!” All the kids who worked at the Academy yelled in unison. A chocolate frosted cake with the words Happy Birthday, DJ took up half the desk.
Bridget finished lighting the candles. “All right, everyone. Let us sing! ‘Happy birthday to you!’ ” The song filled the room and traveled down the aisle.
DJ looked from face to face, sure that her grin mirrored those of her friends. Amy stood right beside the cake, singing the loudest.
“Okay, make a wish and blow out the candles.”
DJ crossed the room and bent over. Panic squeezed her throat shut. She couldn’t blow.
CHAPTER • 7
For a horrible moment, all DJ could see was flickering fire. Her heart pounded louder than any drum. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the burning candles in front of her.
DJ licked her lips. They were so dry.
One hand curled around the scarred palm of the other to protect it. She remembered the sensation of the fire searing her hand, remembered thinking she would never escape it. She was lost again in the terror of that day.
“DJ! DJ!”
DJ heard a voice. Someone was shaking her. Bridget!
“The fire.” Her words croaked past a throat burning from smoke. DJ shook her head. It was a birthday party. Just a cake. She was to blow out the candles. She looked down. Only tiny spirals of smoke rose from the green candles.
Happy Birthday, DJ. The letters were green, too. A brown horse jumped a fence below the words.
DJ forced her eyes to blink. To look at her friends. Amy had tears running down her face. Bridget’s face was mercifully expressionless. The others were as embarrassed to look at her as she was at them.
“I . . . I’m sorry, DJ, I forgot. I’m so sorry.”
DJ could hear Amy’s wail, but it seemed far off. As if it were coming from the end of a long tunnel.
Only Bridget’s arm around her shaking shoulders kept DJ in place. “No problem. We wanted to surprise you. I guess we did just that.” Bridget squeezed again. “Hilary, you cut the cake. Daniel, you serve the ice cream.” While the others bustled around, looking relieved at having something to do, Bridget leaned closer. “Are you all right now?”
DJ nodded. “It’s never been that bad before.”
“You’ve never had so many candles.” Amy clung to DJ’s left arm. “I’m sorry, DJ. I should have thought.”
“Has it always been like this?” Bridget spoke for DJ’s ears alone.
“When I was real little, I was somehow caught in a fire and burned.” She held up her hand and showed the scar in the palm. “I’ve been afraid of fire ever since.” DJ looked up. “Dumb, isn’t it?”
“No, not dumb.” Bridget relaxed her arm. “Here, take my chair, the place of honor. You think you can eat your cake and ice cream now?”
DJ nodded. “Sure.” But she felt like crawling under the chair rather than sitting in it. Under the chair, then under the desk, and out the door. At least James wasn’t there.
“I just wanted to celebrate your birthday,” Amy said later, after the others had left and they’d cleaned up the trash. The expression on her face would have made a Basset hound look happy.
“Thanks, Ames. It isn’t your fault I’m such a geek about fires. Even little ones like birthday candles.” DJ studied the half-burned green stems of wax. “How could I have freaked like that?”
“Do you have nightmares about the accident?�
�� Bridget asked, elbows on her desk.
“I used to. But I haven’t for a long time.” DJ straightened a stack of papers on the corner. While her heart rate had returned to normal, the tips of her fingers still trembled.
“Thank you both for surprising me like this. And for the cake and everything. I’m glad I have friends like you.”
“Now we’re getting mushy.” Amy grinned and punched DJ’s shoulder. “Let’s hit the bikes. We’re supposed to hand out fliers this afternoon, remember?”
DJ groaned. “How could I forget?”
“You two be careful now, you hear?” Bridget called after them as they left the building.
Putting a flier on every door in the neighborhood sounded easy but took plenty of time. Amy’s two brothers helped, but even so, by the time five o’clock rolled around, they hadn’t finished.
DJ eyed the stack she still carried. The sweat from her arm had wrinkled the bottom one. She tossed it in the trash and collapsed on the front steps of her house, along with Amy and her older brother John. Twelve-year-old Dan hadn’t returned yet.
“How’d you guys do?”
Identical groans answered her.
“One old man yelled at me,” Amy said without opening her eyes. “He accused me of not being able to read.”
“Read what?” John asked.
“His ‘no solicitors’ sign.”
“Did you tell him you’re in the honors program at school?” John propped himself up on his elbows.
“No, the sign was hidden by a bush. How was I supposed to see it?”
“So, did you give him a flier?” John winked at DJ.
“Yeah, right.” She glared up at him on the step above her. “Besides, he was too old to have little kids.”
“Maybe he has grandchildren.” John tweaked her braid.
“Nah, he’s too mean.”
“Hey, guys. I have a number for a lady who wants you to call her.” Dan pedaled up the street and let his bike drop on the grass.
“DJ, telephone,” Gran announced through the screen door.
Within the hour, they had three bookings. DJ and Amy rushed to the door as soon as they heard Lindy’s car. “Mom, guess what?”
“You’re ready to go for pizza. Please, I need some time off first.” Lindy shut off the engine and started to open the door.
“No—well, yes—but even better. We have three parties to give! And we just gave out the fliers today.”
“And we’re not even finished.” Amy waved the paper they’d written all the information on.
“We had to turn a Saturday party down because of our horse show, so the woman said they’d have the party Sunday after church instead. Cool, huh?”
“Cool is right. How about pouring me some cool iced tea. My air-conditioner is on the blink.” She brushed her hair off her forehead.
An hour later, Lindy, Gran, and the two girls climbed into Gran’s minivan and headed for the Pizza House.
When Lindy asked how the day had been, DJ sank back into her chair. Amy gave her a poke in the ribs.
“Oh, they gave me a birthday cake at the Academy. I freaked at the candles. No big deal.” DJ threw in a shruggy laugh and looked up at the faces of her mother and Gran. “Really, it was nothing.”
Gran looked at Amy.
Amy looked from DJ to Gran and then to Lindy. “It was a big deal. She scared us all half to bits. She freaked. It was as if she weren’t even there.” She grimaced at DJ and shook her head. “I have to be honest.” She looked back at Gran. “She froze.”
“Thanks a lot, buddy.” The tone said the name meant anything but.
“I thought you’d outgrown your fear of fire.” Lindy spoke softly, her comment a question.
“I did, too. So I guess I haven’t.”
The restaurant loudspeaker crackled. “Number 43.”
“That’s us.” DJ leaped to her feet, nearly toppling her bench at the rush.
When the cupcake came and the waiters and waitresses gathered around to help sing, there was no candle burning bright. DJ didn’t know whether to be glad or sad. She caught a wink from Gran. She knew they’d be talking about this later.
“Open that one first.” Lindy pointed to a big square box.
DJ tossed Amy the ribbon and tore off the paper. Nested in a crinkle of tissue paper lay a red cowboy hat with white lacing around the edge. “Thanks, Mom.” DJ handed it to Amy. “We’re in business now.”
“Now this one.” Lindy handed her daughter a flat box that looked as though it held clothes.
“Wow!” DJ held up a starched white shirt. “And jodhpurs.” She caressed the tan twill fabric. “They’re perfect.”
“I hope they fit. Your others were looking pretty shabby.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Well, I figured when you start jumping, new duds would help.” She handed DJ another box. “This one’s from both Gran and me together.” A black hunt coat with a store-bought label lay folded in front of her.
DJ looked up at both her mother and Gran. “You guys didn’t have to do this. It must have cost a bundle.” And with Diablo gone, I won’t even get to show. When she looked at Amy, she could read the same thought on her face. “Thanks, Mom, Gran. Now you don’t have to spend your time sewing me a new one.”
“A labor of love, my dear. But now that you’re so grown up, you deserve a professionally tailored coat.”
Amy handed DJ a package wrapped in paper covered with jumping horses. “Here, I know you needed these.”
The box contained a new set of charcoal pencils and two thick pads of drawing paper.
“You’re right. Thanks, now I don’t have to raid my horse fund.” DJ closed all the boxes and piled them at the end of the table. “What a super, fantastic, wonderful birthday.”
“If we’re going to see a movie, we better hustle.” Lindy picked up the check. “Come on.”
DJ tucked all the boxes under her arm. The next thing she’d need would be boots. Hers were beginning to pinch in the toe. If only she’d quit growing!
She tuned back into the conversation between her mother and Gran.
“But I don’t really care to meet anyone,” Gran was saying.
“Now, Mother, Joe Crowder is one of the nicest men I’ve ever met. I think the two of you will get along famously.” Lindy held the door open for all of them. “Besides, I invited him over for dinner a week from Sunday. And I know you’ll like him, too, Darla Jean. He’s head of the horse patrol in San Francisco.”
“He’s a policeman?” DJ spun around to stare at her mother.
“And a good one. His wife died two years ago. I’ve known him for a long time, and I can tell he’s lonely.”
“You invited a policeman to our house? The whole neighborhood will think we’re being arrested!” DJ couldn’t resist the smart remark.
“He won’t come in a squad car, silly.” Lindy slid into the front seat of the minivan. “Besides, how would I meet any men outside a police force?”
For some reason, DJ had a bad feeling in her stomach.
CHAPTER • 8
“Okay, riders up.” DJ checked her students one more time.
“Oh, wait, I forgot my drink.” Angie withdrew her foot from the stirrup. “I’ll be right back.”
While she was gone, DJ and Amy checked everyone’s cinches for the third time. “All the rest of you sure you have everything?” At their chorus of yes’s, DJ signaled Amy to mount while she led Megs and Angie’s horse to the front of the barn. She crossed to the gate of the trail to Briones State Park and opened it, signaling them through. While she waited, she checked her saddlebags again to make sure she had the beesting kit. Angie had asthma and was violently allergic to beestings.
Angie rushed up as the last horse trailed through the gate. “Thanks, DJ. My mom says to give you an extra thanks from her. She’s looking forward to a day off.”
“You’re welcome. Up you go now.” After leading Megs through, DJ closed the gate, making sure the
latch fell into place. One time the gate had accidentally been left open, and a horse had run away.
With DJ in front and Amy bringing up the rear, the group headed single file up the hill. Oak trees dotted the steep hillsides where the trail led along the flank of another rounded hump, then down to the staging area and parking lot for the Reliez Valley entrance to Briones Park. Beef cow and calf pairs roamed the pastureland, along with young steers. One calf with a white face and black body ran off, tail in the air at the sight of the trail horses. Several others followed.
“Watch your horses.” DJ kept a secure hand on her reins. “They could spook easily.”
Once on the shady trail that followed the creek up into the park, the kids could ride side by side. A stellar jay scolded them from one of the branches, flitting along as if trying to convince them to go back. The curious calves plodded behind, making the girls giggle.
“We’re supposed to herd cattle rather than lead them,” Krissie called. “DJ, you ever tried cutting cows from a herd?”
“No way. Besides, Ames here rides Western, not me.”
Once they reached the high meadow, the girls voted to ride up to the Briones Crest Trail. From there they could see the Carquinez Straits and up the Sacramento River to the north. The oil refineries below looked like a toy Erector set with their towers and round storage tanks.
“What are those boxes on the fence?” Krissie asked.
“Bluebird nests. Since so many of their natural nesting spots are gone, people have put these up to encourage them to stick around.”
“How do you know so much?”
DJ and Amy swapped grins. “When we rode up here with Hilary, we asked the same question and she gave us the answer. Maybe someday you’ll be doing the same for other kids.”
“Can we peek in one?”
“If a mother is nesting, you might frighten her off the nest. Would you like that?”
All the girls shook their heads.
“Oh, look!” Sam pointed into the air. A hawk dove straight down, then lifted off again with something dangling from its talons.
High Hurdles Page 5