“Oh, you!” Gran gave her a playful swat. “For your information, I was just about to call him.”
“Tell him hi for me.” Another yawn, this one longer than the first. She headed for the stairs. How come Gran could make such a difference in the atmosphere of the house?
Two days later, Saturday morning dawned. The birds were barely chirping before DJ was out of bed and scrambling for her clothes. Mr. Yamamoto would be driving her and Amy and all their gear to the Academy. He helped to load horses for all the shows.
A car horn honked. DJ finished gathering her things and flew down the stairs. Maybe by the next show, she’d be able to compete again.
“Morning, DJ. You’re looking mighty alert for this time of day,” Mr. Yamamoto said out the rolled-down driver’s-side window. He’d pulled the car into the driveway to turn around.
“Thanks. I love early mornings, unlike someone else we know.” DJ opened the rear door and tossed her duffel bag across the seat.
Amy mumbled something from her nest in the front.
“Come on, Ames.” DJ settled herself in back. “You can sleep tonight.” She thumped her friend on the head.
“Wish there were barns on the showgrounds so we didn’t have to trailer the horses every day.” DJ pulled a food bar out of her pocket and unwrapped it.
“This is difficult all right.” Mr. Yamamoto took a sip from the coffee mug on the dashboard. “I hear you’re getting a horse pretty soon.”
“Yeah, his name’s Major. Wait till you see him. He’s huge.” She took a bite out of her bar. Three-day horse shows took a toll on everyone, both people and horses.
Loading went without a hitch, unlike the time before when Gray Bar caused a ruckus. The thought of Gray Bar made DJ wonder how James was doing. Would he really write?
Once at the Saddle Club grounds, DJ helped the younger riders tie their horses side by side on the long rope stretched from tree to tree. Together, they organized their gear. Parents who hadn’t done this before needed as much instruction as their children. They set out grain, then wedges of hay, and DJ showed the kids where to fill the water buckets. She took care of Angie’s horse since the girl hadn’t shown up yet.
Bridget came by, clipboard in hand. The board held a list of all the Academy pupils and the classes they’d entered. She handed DJ a matching board. “Just so we can make changes if needed. And so you can look ahead to see who might need assistance.”
“Angie’s not here yet.”
“They did not ring to say not to bring the horse, so they will be here.” Bridget answered a shout from across the long string of horses. “Talk to you later. Any questions, you know how to find me.”
“Who does all this stuff when I’m showing?” DJ muttered an hour later.
“We take turns.” Hilary stopped brushing her horse long enough to answer. “You’ve just made my life easier. How about not showing ever again?” Her teeth gleamed white against her dark skin.
“Oh, yeah, I’ll just go along to make sure none of you prima donnas have to scoop poop.” DJ fetched the shovel from behind Hilary’s horse.
“Thank you. I am glad you’re getting Major soon. I can’t wait till we’re competing in the same classes. That’ll be fun.”
“That won’t be for a while.” DJ waved at one of the fathers who called her name. It was Angie’s dad, apologizing for their being late.
Angie was grooming her horse as though she were in a speed competition.
“We had a sick baby last night, and none of us got much sleep.” Mr. Lincoln apologized again. “When he finally dropped off, we all did.”
“No harm done. Angie, you have plenty of time. Since you’re riding Western, you’ll be on after noon.”
Angie let out a sigh that could be heard clear across the bay to San Francisco. “I want to do good out there, and I can’t swallow past my butterflies. Mom was scared I was going to have an asthma attack.”
“Oh no. No asthma allowed here. But watch out for the yellow jackets. They come to feast on all the picnic stuff.” DJ turned to answer another question. “See ya, Angie. Take it easy.”
Angie took third place in her class that afternoon and received a white ribbon to cheering applause from the Academy rooting section. Sam got a fourth, and Krissie a sixth.
“Your girls did well. It shows what a good teacher you are.” Bridget stopped DJ long enough to give the compliment.
DJ met her girls back at the tie line. “I can’t believe it. You guys did super. Wow!”
Their thank-you’s and sighs of relief tumbled over each other. The three dismounted and formed a ring with DJ, dancing and hugging.
“You don’t get excited or anything, do you?” Amy led her horse past them on her way to the warm-up ring.
“Not a bit.” DJ thumped her friend on the arm. “Go get ’em. You have the Academy’s honor to uphold.”
“Oh, yuk. Thanks a big fat bunch. Now you’re making my insides flop around rather than fly in formation.”
“Do you still get scared?” Angie asked.
“Of course. Everyone gets scared. That’s part of showing.” Amy led Josh around the arena where the novice Western class was now showing.
By Monday evening when they returned the final trailer load to the Academy, DJ felt as if she’d been dragged under the wheels of the trailers. The Academy students, both youth and adult, had done very well. Hilary won Hunter/Seat equitation again and took a second in Hunter/Jumper. Amy took the Trail-riding class and won two reds and a white in her other events.
“You get on home now; you have done enough,” Bridget said when she found DJ putting tack away. “Thank you so much for all your help. You can be proud of yourself. I certainly am.”
“Thank you. We did good, didn’t we?”
“About the best ever. Our reputation is really growing, thanks to all of you.” Bridget turned to leave. “See you tomorrow after school.”
DJ groaned. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“Hey, you comin’?” Amy trotted up to the tack room. “Dad’s ready to go.”
As soon as they got into the car, the girls slumped against the doors. Mr. Yamamoto wore a weary look himself.
“Anybody for a pony party?”
Groans drowned out his chuckle.
“Your dad has a sick sense of humor.”
“I heard that.” Their groans turned to halfhearted giggles. More like wimpy chuckles, really.
“See you at 7:30, right?” he asked after stopping the car at DJ’s house. “I see your grandparents are here.”
“See ya.” Grandparents—as in two. What a nice thought. DJ slung her duffel over her shoulder and dragged herself into the house.
She almost fell asleep trying to tell Joe and Gran about the show.
“Well, I tell you, if you don’t have another one before the first of October, this is the last show of yours I miss.” Joe crossed one leg over his opposite knee. “I could hardly keep my mind on patrol, I kept thinking of you Academy kids competing. Major’s going to love it. Today some little kid stuck cotton candy up for him to taste. He tasted it all right. Ate every bit in two bites. The poor kid started screaming. After I gave him money for another cotton candy, I had to take Major to a hose and wash off his face.”
DJ giggled at the thought of Major with a pink nose. Her giggle turned into a jaw-cracking yawn. “Mom get off okay?” Gran nodded. DJ yawned again. “I’m so tired I don’t think I can climb the stairs.”
“Do you have your things ready for the morning?”
“You kidding? This is DJ you’re talkin’ to, remember? I’ll get up early; it’s easier than working now.” She hugged and kissed Gran, then paused for a second. Crossing to the sofa, she gave Joe a hug, too.
“Night, DJ.” Joe sounded gruff, as though maybe he had a frog in his throat. “I’ll be at school to pick you up, okay?”
“Great.”
“There’s something for you up on your desk,” Gran said.
DJ gav
e her a questioning look, but Gran only smiled. The stairs could have been Mt. Everest. DJ groaned when she made it to the top. When she finally dragged her feet down the long hall and into her room, she dumped her bag by the bed and collapsed across it. If only she didn’t have to move for ten years.
When she roused herself enough to sit up, her gaze fell on the paper on her desk. In Gran’s most beautiful calligraphy, the words leaped off the parchment paper. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
DJ read the verse through a second time, then a third. So this was her verse to overcome nail-biting, smart-mouthing, and everything else that bugged her. She let the paper float back to the desk. This couldn’t really work—could it? Would Gran make up something like this?
Sure, their pastor talked about the power of God’s Word, but did God really care about Darla Jean Randall chewing her nails? As DJ undressed, she thought about it. If Jesus was really in her heart, and she knew He was, then He cared about every little bit of her. So much He even knew how many hairs were left on her head. Even after she’d left some in the hairbrush that morning.
“You must be awfully smart, God,” she muttered as she drew back the covers. “But if you care so much, I’ll give it a try. By the way, thanks for taking care of us today. I forget to tell you thank-you a lot. Thanks for Joe—he makes Gran so happy. And please help me in school tomorrow. I haven’t told anyone else, but I am kind of scared. First day with new teachers and all that stuff is scary.” She flipped over on her side and reread the paper. “So that’s my verse, huh? Did you put Gran up to this?”
When Mr. Yamamoto let Amy and DJ off in front of the school in the morning, they looked at each other as if they’d rather climb back into the car and head for home. Each girl shrugged her backpack over one shoulder, squared both shoulders, and started out across the parking lot.
“Bye, Dad.” Amy turned to wave.
DJ did the same. “Well, let’s get to our locker and pick up our class list.”
By the end of the day, DJ knew several new things. She and Amy had only one class together. Art would be DJ’s favorite, algebra her least. Literature would be fun because she loved to read, and PE would be an easy A. The rest she wasn’t sure about. One thing was sure, how was she going to keep up with everything? There was so much she had to do at home and with Major before she’d be ready for the Olympics. How would she ever do it all?
CHAPTER • 11
“Who invented school, anyway?” Amy muttered.
“I don’t know, but yell at them for me.” DJ slumped against the wall by their shared locker. “And if I don’t keep my grades up, you know what will be the first to go.”
“You always get straight As.”
“I’ve never had algebra and Latin before.” DJ hoisted her backpack. “Let’s see if Joe is waiting for us out there. Mucking fifty stalls would be better than this.”
At the Academy she could tell instantly that Bridget and Joe approved of each other. They sized each other up and both turned to smile at DJ. She left the two of them talking about cutting horses and went to saddle Patches.
By the time she’d worked the gelding through his paces and had him backing up smoothly, she could easily forget school ever existed. And once she flew over the jumps with Megs, she felt alive again. This was where she belonged, on a horse, on target for her dream. After she’d groomed Megs, she noticed Hilary frowning at one of the new workers. She had to think a minute before she remembered his name: Tony. He sure didn’t look like a happy camper.
“You know these stalls are your responsibility.” DJ could tell Hilary was using every ounce of her tact and patience.
What had he done—or not done?
“I cleaned ’em.” His lip stuck out far enough to hang a bridle on.
“Then you’ll have to clean them again, and do it right this time.”
Oh no, not another James. We need a troublemaker like we need manure. DJ felt like calling for Bridget, but they had their code: Handle everything you can yourself. It made you stronger and promoted better feelings between all the student workers.
She turned in time to see Bridget and Joe pause just inside the door.
“You can’t make me!” Tony gripped the handle of his shovel.
“No, I can’t make you, but I can report you, and then you won’t be able to ride or take lessons until Bridget says you can.” Hilary leaned against the stall wall as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “It’s up to you.”
Tony glared. He grumbled. He swore. But he went back into the stall and started tossing out dirty shavings.
“Oh, and that kind of language isn’t tolerated around here, either, so consider this your warning. I’ll be back to check on your progress in half an hour.”
DJ sneaked a look at Bridget. The smile of approval she saw on the trainer’s face made her more proud of Hilary than she already was. If only she could learn to be so cool under pressure.
She hung up her tack and straightened the bridles. Hilary came in and sank down on the lid of the tack box.
“You were so cool.” DJ sat down beside the older girl.
“Thanks, I felt like taking his shovel and rapping him over the head with it.” She shook her head, setting her corn-rowed braids to swinging. “Sometimes I wonder where these jerks come from. Why ask to work here if they don’t want to clean stalls?”
“They think it’s all show time. The movies don’t show how much work goes into caring for horses.”
“I guess.” Hilary got back up. “Hey, how was school?”
“Don’t ask.” DJ put on a happy face. “I love my art class, though.”
“Sure you do. Let you ride, jump, train, and draw pictures of horses, and you’d be in horse heaven.”
“How do you know?”
“ ’Cause you’re just like me.” Hilary patted DJ on top of her helmet. “And if you think junior high takes time, wait till you hit high school.”
As usual, Hilary gave her something to think about.
Gran was ready to put dinner on the table when Joe and DJ walked in the door. “Wash your hands, you two. I don’t want any horse hair in my salad.” She raised her face for Joe to kiss.
DJ felt a blush start about her collarbone.
“We’re embarrassing our girl.” Gran pushed the big man away with a gentle hand.
The comment turned the heat up. DJ shook her head at them with a grin. “You’re as bad as a couple of teenagers.”
“How would you know?”
“I got eyes.” Her laughter trailed back as she took the stairs two at a time.
Even with Joe there, dinner felt like it was supposed to. She and Gran had spent many nights together with Lindy away on business trips. By the time they’d listened to Joe rave about Bridget and the Academy, Gran tell about a new contract, and DJ fill them in on day one at school, darkness had wrapped the house in its comforting arms.
When the phone rang, DJ jumped up to get it. “Hi, Mom. How’s your trip going?” DJ twirled the phone cord around her finger while she listened. “Amy and I only have one class together. We don’t even have the same lunch. I know I’ll live with it, but I’d rather be at the Academy.” She grimaced at her mother’s response. She should know better than to tease her mother over the phone. “Sure, Gran’s here, I’ll get her.” She put her hand over the mouthpiece and called her grandmother. “See you Wednesday.” She handed the phone to Gran, then stopped in the doorway to listen.
“Say, if it’s all right, I’d like to have Robert and the boys to dinner on Wednesday,” Gran was saying. DJ stopped in surprise. How come Gran hadn’t mentioned it to her? She headed for the dining room.
“How come you didn’t tell me about Wednesday?” She slumped in her chair when Gran came back to the dining room.
“I needed to check it out with your mother first. If you wouldn’t eavesdrop like that, you wouldn’t discover so many surprises.”
DJ slumped lower. She memorized the patt
ern on her placemat.
“What difference does it make? I just thought this family needed to get to know one another better, and the boys have been begging to come see their cousin.” Gran motioned toward the coffeepot, asking Joe if he wanted more.
He shook his head. “I think we’re going to have to buy a pony for the grandkids as soon as we move into our house. One like Bandit would be just right.”
“Wish we did have a pony; we don’t have any stuff here to entertain little kids.”
“Oh, Robert will bring something. Anyway, the boys love being read to.”
“They can sit still long enough for a story?”
Both Gran and Joe laughed at the skeptical look on DJ’s face.
“Well, I better hit my books.” DJ started stacking dishes to carry to the kitchen.
“You go ahead, I’ll get those.” Joe stopped her when she reached for his plate.
“Thanks.” She dropped a kiss on Gran’s head and whispered in her ear. “You better keep him if he does dishes.”
“I heard that.”
DJ chuckled her way upstairs. “You two just want to smooch without me watching,” she yelled down from the top landing.
“Darla Jean, whatever—” Her grandmother’s words were cut off.
The more DJ hurried the next afternoon, the more behind she got. Patches was never one to be hurried. His crow-hopping on the backing drill reminded her of that.
By the time she’d taken Megs over the course twice, the mare had refused two jumps.
“All right, DJ, what is bothering you?” Bridget called from the center of the arena.
“We have company coming for dinner.”
“So.”
“So I was hurrying.”
“And?”
“And hurrying doesn’t work. So now I take a deep breath, relax, and take Megs over the course again, concentrating on what I’m doing.”
“Good. I can see that you listen when I talk to you. Now take your own advice and count the strides between each jump. I have spaced them for six. Make sure she is jumping straight. If you get lazy, your horse will feel it immediately.”
High Hurdles Page 19