When DJ dared to sneak looks at her used-to-be friend, she could tell Amy wasn’t any happier than she was. Guess she’d have to write a note to Amy, too.
By the time DJ’d gotten her money out of the bank, it was late. She pedaled like crazy for home, not looking forward to explaining why she was late. The list of chores covered both sides of a sheet of paper.
Gran’s minivan was gone again. Probably off seeing that stupid policeman. DJ left her bike on the front sidewalk. She’d be gone before anyone could yell at her to put it away.
First she’d write the letters, then pack. She sat down at her desk. Should she write to Gran and Mom? She shook her head. They wouldn’t care anyway. Just Amy and Bridget. She wrote fast and stuffed the sheets in the envelopes. Gran could come home anytime.
DJ packed another pair of jeans, two T-shirts, and a pair of shorts in her backpack. By the time she’d added underwear, a sweatshirt and jacket, and her toothbrush and paste, she hardly had room for food. She rummaged in the cupboard downstairs. A box of food bars, a couple apples, matches. She’d camp up in Briones for a couple nights before heading . . . DJ didn’t know where. She clamped her hands on the counter. Would she ever see her family again?
She wandered into the family room and lifted the cloth on Gran’s latest painting. As Gran would say, it needed work. She let the cloth drop and went to sit in Gran’s chair, letting her gaze wander around the room, saying good-bye to everything. When she finally pushed herself to her feet, she might as well have been pushing up the world.
With her sleeping bag tied on the back of her bike, a canteen slung on her shoulder, and her pack on her back, she pedaled out the drive and around the corner. That way no one she knew would see her on the main street, the way they usually came.
Once at the Academy, she parked her bike behind the long barn and dropped her pack beside it. The sun had already set, and long shadows stretched across the dusty parking area. She could hear a class going on in the covered arena and another at the open arena set up for jumping. Most of the adults came in the evening after work. A horse whinnied in one of the outside stalls. Inside the barn, only an occasional snort or the rasp of hay being pulled from a rack broke the silence.
Horses came to the gates and nickered or wuffled when DJ made her way down the line. She knew them all, many of them for the four years she’d worked there. An ear scratch here, a chin rub there—Megs insisted on having her ears rubbed when DJ slipped inside her stall. DJ scratched, then wrapped her arms around the deep red neck, burying her face in the black mane.
You will not cry. “You be a good girl now, you hear?” She tickled the mare’s whiskery upper lip. “Thanks for all the good jumps we made.” Megs nickered when DJ left the stall.
DJ leaned against the wall. She’d say good-bye to Patches, then get out of there. After she left the letter on Bridget’s desk.
Even with her heart pounding in her ears, she detected an unfamiliar sound. She stopped in her tracks, the better to hear. Was there an animal trapped in a stall? A horse down? She made her way down the aisle, past Patches, and stopped again. Nothing. Concentrating, she tiptoed so as not to make a sound, checking each box stall, always moving like a ghost. She stopped and listened again. It was coming from across the aisle. She peered into Gray Bar’s stall. The Arabian filly studied her with large, calm eyes. But something light colored was huddled back in the corner.
DJ slid open the stall and slipped inside. With one hand on the filly’s halter, she drew closer to the far corner.
“So what are you staring at, cat?”
“James!” DJ nearly jumped in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
CHAPTER • 15
“Nothing. I can come visit my horse, can’t I?”
“Well, sure, but . . .”
“But nothing, just get out of here and leave me alone.” His voice broke on the last syllable.
DJ stroked the filly’s neck and smoothed her mane. What was going on? James never spent time alone with his horse. He rode, practiced, did his chores, and left. It had never occurred to her that he even liked the animal, in spite of what a beauty she was. The green-eyed monster of jealousy had attacked DJ more than once because of this superb horse.
“You did pretty good yesterday.”
“Yeah, right. Best I got was a red. My dad . . .” He waved her away with a clenched fist. “Go on, will ya?”
DJ kept her attention on the horse. She was sure she’d seen tears on James’ cheeks. She could hear them in his voice. She knew how rotten she felt when someone came upon her when she was crying. Crying should be a private affair. But she couldn’t leave. James needed someone, that was for sure. And it looked to be her.
“But you placed in the trail-riding class, and the show before, Gray Bar wouldn’t even finish the course. All your practice and work with her showed. Your dad should be real proud of you.”
DJ thought she heard him mumble, “Too drunk to care,” but she wasn’t sure. She didn’t dare ask him to repeat himself. How could she get him to talk?
God, please help me help James. She went on stroking the filly. “What about your mom? Isn’t she proud of you?”
“Why? She’s never home.”
“Sounds like my mom. She travels for her job and then goes to school nights for her master’s degree. She’s been in school ever since I can remember.”
“My mother says she hates coming home.”
DJ felt like James had socked her. “No, she doesn’t. She can’t. Not really.” She wished she could grab the words back and swallow them quick.
“You think I’m stupid or something? I understand English. Especially when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs.”
“In front of you?” DJ could hear her voice squeak.
“Nah, I listen from the top of the stairs. My dad was drunk again . . .”
Again. This time DJ caught the words before they slipped out.
“And Mom said it was the last time. She was leaving, she’d see him in court.”
DJ sank down on the shavings beside him. What do you say to something like this? But she didn’t have to say anything. It was as though someone had pulled the plug; the words bubbled out nonstop.
“My dad threw his glass into the fireplace then—I heard it smash. He’d been drinking ever since he came home. I tried to get him to stop, but after he hit me, I stayed upstairs.” James clenched his hands over his knees. “It’s safer that way. If I hide, he sometimes forgets what he was yelling about—at least when he’s yelling at me. But Mom said she couldn’t take it anymore. I think he hit her once, but she lied and said she bumped into a door.”
When he fell silent, DJ cleared her throat. “So what are you going to do?”
“Me? They’re gonna send me back East to military school. Dad says I need some discipline to shape me up. Ha! He’s the one who needs discipline.” He turned to look at DJ. “Why does he do it—drink, I mean? He says he’s sorry, but then he just drinks again.”
“I don’t know.” A picture of Gran flitted through her mind. Even if Gran got married, she’d find time for her only granddaughter. Of course she would.
James sniffed again. “I don’t want to go to military school. I don’t want to leave Gray Bar. I like it here at the Academy.” His voice broke. The silence lengthened. “They’re going to get a divorce. They say it’ll be better for all of us that way.” He picked up a handful of shavings and let them tumble through his fingers.
DJ wanted to take him in her arms and hold him as Gran so often held her.
He sniffed and rubbed the back of his hand across his nose.
DJ watched him from the corner of her eye. What could she say? What could she do? No wonder he’d been such a mean kid all summer.
“I’ll take care of your horse for you. When you come home next summer, she’ll be better trained than ever.”
“Dad says he’s gonna sell her.”
“Oh no!” DJ looked up at the filly, who’d lowe
red her head to sniff and wuffle in James’ hair. “She’s so beautiful. You’ll never find one like her again.”
“I know. But . . .” He slammed his fist into the shavings. Gray Bar threw her head up and backed away. “I hate him! I could kill my dad. And Mom’s no help. All she can think about is never coming home again. I hate her, too.”
DJ felt her breath leave. It left her hollow, as if she might cave in. “James, you don’t mean that . . . about killing, I mean.”
“No. But I hate him, I really do.”
She could hear the tears running into his words. And she didn’t even have a tissue. I thought I hated Joe, but I don’t. Nothing like James and his dad. God, please, I want to go home. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard to live with. She crossed her arms on her knees and rested her forehead on them.
The filly made manure in the corner, filling the air with the pungent aroma. Then she came back to nuzzle James.
With one hand James reached up to rub her nose. She dropped her head lower, resting her cheek against James’ shoulder.
“She can tell you’re sad. Horses know more about us than we give them credit for.”
“I know. And I haven’t taken good care of her. That’s why Dad says he’s selling her. He says I don’t care. That I never care about anything.”
“Little does he know.” Right now DJ felt like going over to their fancy house and telling that mean old drunk off.
“Thanks, DJ.” James turned so he could look right at her. “I’m sorry I called you names. And about that saddle and bridle. . . . I . . . I hid it.” He swallowed the words.
“You did what?” DJ jerked upright.
“I hid them. Everyone likes you, and you’re so good with the other kids and the horses. I just wanted you to get in trouble for once. Like me.”
“James Edward Corrigan, that was a double dumb thing to do! Why’d you . . .”
“I said I was sorry. I’ll put ’em back tomorrow and tell Bridget what I did.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
“You gonna tell my dad?”
“No way. There is some stuff I’d like to tell him, though. And none of it’s very nice.” Now she was the one tossing handfuls of shavings.
“How are you going to get home?” DJ leaned back against the wall.
“Call George. He’s the gardener, driver—whatever we need. I thought about sleeping here tonight.” He rubbed the filly’s forehead. “Would you share your stall with me, girl?” She nibbled at his hair and blew gently in his face.
“She’d probably step on you.”
“No, she wouldn’t. Sure wish I’d worked her harder. My dad’s right, you know. I am lazy. I’d rather play games on my computer than most anything. But I do like riding—and showing.” He pushed himself to his feet and, grabbing a handful of mane, swung up on the filly. “If they don’t sell her, would you show her this fall? I know you want a horse of your own, but Gray Bar here loves to jump. She’s good. Bridget says she has plenty of ability.”
DJ knew her mouth made an O. She could feel her chin smack on her chest. She closed it and shook her head. “James, I . . .”
“Just say yes.” James scooted back and leaned forward to rest his chin on the filly’s withers. “You could go far with her.”
“If you have to sell, I wish I could buy her.” She thought about the money in her pocket. It wouldn’t even be a down payment on a registered Arabian like this one.
“You can use her. That way it won’t cost you anything.”
“Thanks. You all right now?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just cool.”
“Guess I better get home. I’m not supposed to be out past dark.”
“Me neither.” James slid to the ground. “I’ll see you tomorrow. They can’t ship me off that fast.” He gave the filly another pat and pushed back the lower door. “Uh, you won’t tell the other kids about this, will you?”
DJ shook her head. “Nope. You sure you’re okay?”
“Hey, I’ll live. Military school can’t be all bad.”
“I’ll write to you, tell you about Gray Bar.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” DJ ducked back around the barn and hefted her backpack. She couldn’t get her arms in the straps fast enough. Maybe she’d get home before they even realized she was gone.
She climbed onto her bike, hitting the pedals so hard, gravel spurted out from under her rear tire. Would she ever be able to say sorry enough?
CHAPTER • 16
“And just where have you been, young lady?”
“Mom! I thought you were on another trip.” DJ knew those were the wrong words as soon as they left her mouth.
“So that made it okay for you to be out after dark? Wasn’t there something about being grounded?” Her mother stood in the door, fists on hips, ready to do battle. “Why do you have your sleeping bag? And a backpack? Darla Jean Randall, what in the world is going on?”
Gran ducked past her daughter’s arm. “Oh, darlin’, what kind of mess have you gotten into now?”
Joe filled what was left of the open doorway.
DJ wished the earth would just open up and swallow her whole. “Why’d you call in the police?”
“He’s not the police . . .”
“I’m here only because I care, DJ. No other reason.” Joe laid a hand on Gran’s shoulder, much as DJ would gentle a horse.
“Where were you going?” Lindy bit out the words as if each one were too hot to contain.
DJ untied her sleeping bag and held it in front of her. “I was going to camp in Briones.” She watched the blood drain from her mother’s face.
“But there are rattlesnakes up there and . . . and tarantulas.”
“Not to mention ticks. Am I right in assuming you were running away?” Joe joined in the accusations.
DJ nodded.
“Oh, Darla Jean, how could you?” Lindy sagged back against Joe’s broad chest.
DJ squared her shoulders. Might as well get it all over with. “I figured you’d all be better off without me. I was acting like a spoiled brat. I’m sorry.” She raised tear-filled eyes to Gran’s. “I love you, Gran, and I don’t want you to be unhappy.”
Gran spread her arms wide, and DJ dropped her bag to fly into them like a baby bird back to the nest. “How could you ever think we would be better off without you? You’ve been my life. Caring for you gave me a reason to keep on living after Grandpa died. Darlin’, you are my pride and joy.”
“But . . . but now you have Joe.”
“I wish,” the deep voice grumbled.
“There’s plenty of love to go around. Why, we’ll be living right up the road from the Academy, so you can come to our house after school and when your mother is traveling. We plan to have plenty of room for grandkids.”
“Huh?” DJ pulled back to look Gran in the face.
“I made an offer on a place near the Academy yesterday. Looks as though they’ll take it.” Joe drew the women into the house.
“My bike.”
“You can let it lie there for now.” Lindy’s voice had lost its edge. Now she just sounded tired. “Let’s sit down and hash this out.” She reached for her daughter and DJ went into her arms willingly. “You scared me half to death. I should ground you for life.” She sniffed and continued. “Amy didn’t know where you were. Says you haven’t talked to her for days. Bridget said you left earlier this afternoon.”
DJ groaned. “Did you call everybody?”
“Just about. Hilary said she knew you’d been bothered about something lately.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Please forgive me.”
“Oh, I forgive you, all right, but there are some serious consequences here. You could have gotten lost or murdered or kidnapped or . . .”
“I get the picture. Will a promise to never do something so stupid again help?”
Gran and Joe sat down on the couch, holding hands like two kids. Lindy took Gran’s wing chair, and DJ folded herself down
to the floor.
“Now, then. Start from the beginning and tell us what’s been on your mind.”
“Easy, Joe. She isn’t a delinquent, you know.” Gran squeezed his hand and laid her head against his shoulder.
DJ wrapped her hands around her bent legs and did as he asked. By the time she finished, her throat felt as raw as if she’d been running during the hottest time of the day.
“Now it’s your turn, Lindy. Let’s get this out on the table.”
By the time they’d all talked, the grandfather clock bonged eleven times.
DJ’s stomach growled in time with it.
“Oh, you poor child! Didn’t you have any dinner?” Gran started to rise, but Joe stopped her.
“The three of you keep talking. I’ll bring something in for all of us.”
When he left the room, DJ whispered, “Is he always this nice?”
“Of course, DJ, when you give him a chance.” Lindy leaned forward. “Just like you didn’t give any of us a chance to work things out. You panicked. Now you and I’ll be living here together, just the two of us. I think learning to communicate will be rather important, don’t you?” She held up a cautioning hand. “I know, I’m as much at fault as you—more so since I’m the adult. But we will make it.”
DJ knew she should say something in response, but words seemed to have vacated her brain. She just nodded.
“I’m glad to see the two of you coming to this agreement. That’s the first step. Now we need to leave the rest of it in God’s hands.” Gran reached out and patted their hands.
DJ scooted over by Gran. “So, when’s the wedding?”
“We haven’t discussed it again . . .”
“As soon as we can arrange it. Two weeks max.” Joe set a plate with ham sandwiches on the table and popped open a bag of tortilla chips.
DJ squirmed at the way he butted into the conversation. But she kept her mouth closed—this time. You’re learning, she congratulated herself. “Will I have to wear a dress?”
“As one of my bridesmaids, you sure enough will.”
“What?”
“Your mother will be the other.”
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