Patches loosened her up. He tried to loosen her clear off, but DJ had learned to read him and his tricks and was ready for him. He didn’t like backing up. Not one bit.
“I know you like to be able to see where you’re going, but you just have to learn to trust your rider. It’s not as if I’m taking you into quicksand.” His ears twitched back and forth as he listened to her. When she finished, he snorted and pawed the ground with one front foot. “Stop that!” Her sharp command caught his attention—fast.
This time he backed hesitantly. At least his ears were up. “Maybe that’s what I need to do—yell at you.”
“Mrs. Johnson started class with him today, but it did not go very well. Next time I am going to suggest she use one of the school horses until you have Patches better trained. I do not know why someone would go out and buy a green-broke horse for their child, especially for a boy like Andrew.” Bridget shook her head. “Makes no sense to me.”
DJ fought against the urge to hustle her class along. Every time she looked at her watch, it seemed the hands were racing to reach seven.
By the time she’d worked Major through the flat work, there was no time for jumping. What did Gran want that was so important anyway? Couldn’t they do it on Saturday?
Everyone else was ready when she hit the door at 6:55. She held up a hand. “Don’t panic, I’ll make it.” Four minutes and thirty seconds later, she shut the door on her room so her mother wouldn’t see the mess. But she was ready. She could rebraid her hair in the car.
“Mother, what in the world is the big secret?” Lindy leaned forward. She and DJ occupied the backseat of Joe’s new Ford Explorer.
“This is the first time we’ve ridden in this car.” DJ sniffed in the new-car fragrance. “It almost smells as good as Major.”
“DJ!” Lindy’s tone had that impatient parent sound.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Joe beamed at her in the rearview mirror.
“You just have to wait.” Gran turned in her bucket seat. “In fact, you have to close your eyes. No peeking!”
DJ and Lindy both groaned but did as they were told.
A few minutes later, the car stopped, and Gran said, “Open your eyes now.”
DJ looked around. “This is your new house!”
“Mother . . . does this mean . . . ?”
“Yes. It’s ours!” Gran dangled the keys with one hand and clasped Joe’s with the other. “We’re moving this weekend.”
“Can we see it?” DJ shoved the car door open as she spoke.
“That’s what we’re here for. Robert will be here any minute with the boys. Sonja couldn’t come today, but she and Andy will be here to help on Saturday.” Gran led them on a grand tour as if they’d never seen a house before. DJ lingered in the room designated as hers. There was another guest room for the rest of the kids.
When the boys showed up, they each grabbed one of DJ’s hands and made like they were stuck on with Crazy Glue. She could have used some glue on their mouths. Did little kids always ask this many questions?
On Saturday, as soon as she finished her work at the Academy, DJ rode her bike to Gran and Joe’s new house rather than riding home. It wasn’t any farther and there weren’t any hills on the way.
Sonja grinned a greeting and handed DJ a box. “Master bedroom. You and I can start on the kitchen next.”
“Where’s my mom?”
“She and Robert are at your house packing Melanie’s bedroom things. They’re going to use that set for your room.”
“Oh.” DJ thought of the room that had always been Gran’s. It would now be empty. And all her things would be gone from the studio, too. An ache started in her middle and traveled to her eyes. She almost stumbled on the front step because she was blinking and rolling her eyes upward to keep the tears from falling. One more chunk was disappearing out of her life.
By the time they finished moving and devouring the pizzas Joe had ordered, the twins were sound asleep on the floor. DJ felt like joining them. She’d never moved in her life, and now she knew why. Moving was the pits.
“Oh, my aching back.” Sonja lay flat on the carpet. “Wake me when Monday comes.”
Gran rested her head on Joe’s shoulder. “Thank you all so much. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”
“Called a moving company,” Andy, Joe’s youngest son, said.
“How about having a housewarming next weekend at the same time as Joe’s retirement party?” Gran sat up straight, her eyes catching a sparkle again at the thought of a party.
Groans met her suggestion.
“We’ll have it catered. I know someone really good and not too expensive.”
“You’d hire a caterer?” DJ jerked totally awake.
“Mother?” Lindy and DJ wore the same shocked expressions.
“You always do everything yourself,” Lindy added.
“I know, but I’ll probably still be busy putting things away, and with DJ’s horse show the week after that, this weekend is our best option.”
DJ scooted back to prop herself against Gran’s legs. “You’d plan a housewarming around my horse show?”
“Darlin’, of course. I can’t miss that.”
“That’s not all. I’ll be coming, too. She can’t have a retirement party without the retiree there.” Joe tweaked DJ’s braid. “And I wouldn’t miss your horse shows for the world.”
DJ felt love wrap itself around her, snuggling into all the cracks and hollows. “Thanks, Grandpa.” She reached over her shoulder to take Gran’s hand and tilted her head back to wink up at the man on the seat above her. “You know, I think I like GJ better. Then our names nearly match. You now, DJ and GJ. What do you think?”
“I think anything you call me is fine.” He cleared his throat in the middle of the sentence.
“Well, we better get going so we can come back tomorrow and help some more.” Lindy started to rise and Robert leaped to his feet to pull her upright.
“Your car isn’t here. How about if I give you and DJ a ride home?”
“Thanks.” Lindy started picking up the leftover trash from the pizza. “Oh, did I tell you?” She stopped in front of the couch where Gran and Joe sat. “There may be a new position opening up in L.A. My boss thinks it’s ideal for me, or I’m ideal for it.”
Only a huff in the breathing of one of the twins broke the absolute silence.
DJ couldn’t breathe. An invisible elephant was squashing her like a bug.
CHAPTER • 13
Was her mother totally off-the-wall bonkers?
“Thanks for the ride,” Lindy said when they arrived home. She prodded DJ.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“See you tomorrow?” DJ heard Robert ask, but she didn’t wait for her mother’s answer. If she never in her whole life spoke to her mother again, it would be too soon. She didn’t stomp. She didn’t yell. She didn’t cry. She unlocked the front door, left it open for her mother, and walked up the stairs to her room. This door she shut. The click sounded loud in the silence.
She crossed the room and stood in front of the window. It was a good thing breathing didn’t take thought and effort, because she wouldn’t have bothered. How could she ever afford to keep Major in Los Angeles? How would she find a stable? She knew Bridget gave her extra help without charging. Would anyone else do that? And Amy. How could she leave Amy? And Gran and Joe? She couldn’t live without Gran.
Gran. The thought stopped the panic like throwing a light switch.
“DJ?” Her mother knocked at the bedroom door. “DJ, I want to talk with you.”
DJ crossed the room and opened the door. She stood right in the doorway, making it very obvious that her mother wasn’t welcome.
“DJ, don’t panic yet. Nothing has been decided. I just wanted to give you time to think about it.”
“Doesn’t matter. You do what you want. I’ll go live with Joe and Gran.” DJ crossed her arms over her chest. She met her mother’s shocked ga
ze with a perfectly blank face.
“But, it will be a better job, more money, more . . .” Lindy took a step backward. “We’ll discuss this when I know more about the job.”
“Fine.” DJ could feel one eyebrow twitch as if it wanted to form a question mark of its own. “Good night, Mother.” She stepped back and quietly shut the door.
DJ didn’t know she could do it—not talk to her mother, that is. Usually she did everything but stand on her head to get back in her mother’s good graces. This time she didn’t care. She wasn’t the one who had decided to move to L.A., no matter what her daughter wanted and needed. Grown-ups are good at that, DJ thought. Always so sure they know best. They don’t always—unless they’re like Gran and Joe. “I will not give up my dream,” DJ promised the face in the bathroom mirror. “I will ride in the Olympics someday.” She tugged the brush through her hair. “And I will not give up Major.”
Monday her art teacher announced an art contest for local students. “The entry can be in any medium: pen and ink, charcoal, water colors, tempera, oils, or acrylics. The choice of subject is your own, and you can enter a class project or one you’ve done at home. Just don’t use any outside help.”
Mentally DJ flipped through the horses she’d done. She could think of a flaw in every one. It would have to be something new, but she would stick with pen and ink or pencil. She brought her mind back to her classwork with difficulty. She’d much rather start the drawing now.
“Can I see a show of hands of those who think they’ll enter?”
DJ’s hand was the first in the air.
That evening, as soon as she finished all her home chores after the hours at the Academy, she took out her pad and pencils. She closed her eyes. She could just see Major clearing the triple. She started to draw.
It seemed like only a few minutes had passed, but her scratchy eyes and the nearly complete picture told her otherwise. She glanced at the clock. Midnight. Had she heard her mother come up to bed? Vaguely she remembered a knock at the door and her mother’s voice bidding her to sleep well. She fell into bed, asleep before she could pull up the covers.
A noise jerked her out of a sleep so deep she hadn’t heard the birds serenade her with their morning song. A car horn. She checked her clock. Seven-thirty! What had happened to her alarm? As she bailed out of bed, she couldn’t remember setting the stupid thing. She ran to a window in her mother’s bedroom and called down to Amy.
“I just woke up. Can you give me five minutes?”
Mr. Yamamoto waved and nodded.
DJ threw on her clothes, brushed her teeth, gathered her hairbrush and bands, grabbed her backpack, and raced down the stairs. No time for breakfast. She dumped the box of food bars over the counter in her rush to get one.
She felt as though she were an hour behind all day. She dragged from lack of sleep. Still rushing when she got home from school, she fixed a sandwich, grabbed a juice package, and pedaled as fast as she could to the Academy, eating as she rode. When she did think of the mess she’d left behind, she promised herself to get home early to clean it before her mother got there.
She made herself calm down once she reached the Academy. The more you rushed a horse, the longer it took to accomplish anything.
Major greeted her with a nicker, nosing her pockets for the treats she always carried. DJ could tell Joe had been there. The stall was clean, horse groomed, and a note pinned to the outer wall.
See you later. I rode Major this morning, so he’s already had some exercise. Bridget found me a Quarter Horse to look at. Want to come along? GJ.
DJ read the note again. Of course she wanted to go along, but when? Major reached out to take a taste of the paper. “What are you, half goat? You can’t eat everything! Stop that.” She yanked it away, but not before he took a sizable nibble out of one corner.
DJ opened the stall door and, with a hand on his nose, backed him up. She turned and stood with his head over her shoulder, rubbing his ears and his face. He sighed and tipped his head a bit so she could reach another spot.
She could hear people talking in another part of the barn and horses moving around in their stalls, but here, for this moment, she felt peace. It was easy to forget that her mother was considering moving to L.A., that they didn’t get along, that she had enough to do to keep three people busy. She turned her face to sniff the best fragrance in the world—horse.
The good feeling remained until she got home. The garage door was open. Gran’s minivan wasn’t there, so that meant only one thing. Right now she prayed it was burglars. But no such luck. Her mother had come home early.
DJ quietly put her bike away, closed the garage door, and opened the door to the kitchen. Going into the house was like stepping into a meat locker set on deep freeze.
No more mess on the counter. DJ chewed her lip. Her mother had been home awhile. She listened, holding her breath to hear better. Sounds came from upstairs. Water running. She tried to remember. Had she closed her bedroom door? The bathroom was a disaster, too.
“Well, you better get it over with.” She dredged up every available bit of courage and climbed the stairs. “Please, God, don’t let her ground me again. I don’t have time for that right now. What with the show coming and all.”
Lindy turned from scrubbing the sink in the bathroom. The counter was neat, the dirty towels in the hamper, and new ones on the racks. The scene registered in DJ’s mind at the same time as the scowl on her mother’s face. Compared to here, the kitchen had been balmy.
“I . . . I’m sorry. I overslept and—”
“Darla Jean, if you are that tired, then it’s time we made some changes around here—”
“No, I just forgot to set my alarm.”
“Forgot? Or was too tired?” Lindy gave the sink one last wipe and flicked off the light. She pointed the way to her daughter’s room. “Your bedroom looks like a tornado went through there.”
“I know.”
“Your light was still on at 11:30 last night. Homework?”
“Well . . .” DJ tried to think whether she could call her art project homework.
“You’ve got too much to do—”
“Yeah, taking care of the house and yard besides school and my work at the Academy is hard.”
“Are you saying I don’t do anything around here?”
“No—well, yes.” DJ threw up her hands. “You’re never home. Why do you care?”
“That would be one of the good things about the job in L.A. I’d be home more, do less traveling.”
“Goody for you. I don’t care if you are home. I didn’t mean to leave a mess, and I would have cleaned it up. I always do. You don’t care about me and what I like at all. You never have.” DJ caught herself. She’d used always and never after promising that when she had kids, she wouldn’t use it.
“Go to your room, Darla Jean, I just can’t deal with any more of this right now.”
“Gladly.” DJ spun around and left as ordered. At least she hadn’t been grounded—yet.
She threw herself across her unmade bed. Why couldn’t she and her mother talk without yelling at each other? It wasn’t as though she’d murdered someone or stolen the family jewels. She just hadn’t gotten all her chores done. And the day wasn’t even over yet. If her mother had come home when she usually did, everything would have been fine. I shoulda run away when I had the chance. Her stomach rumbled. You’d think her mother would spend the time to make a meal for her daughter, rather than clean up a mess that wasn’t that bad to start with. But no good smells came from the kitchen, unless you liked the smell of polish and disinfectant.
She got up and started putting away her clothes. After making the bed and cleaning off her desk, she picked up the horse drawing she’d been working on last night. It was good, the best she’d done. Now if Gran were here, she’d take the picture to her and they’d discuss the quality of lines, the perspective, the balance of the horse. If only Gran were here.
Maybe she should pray
her mother got that stupid job in L.A. so she could live with Gran and Joe. She propped the picture on the top of her chest of drawers and stepped back. Another thought hit her: What if Gran and Joe wouldn’t let her live with them? What if they didn’t want any kids around? What would happen to her and Major then?
CHAPTER • 14
“Over my dead body.”
“But, M-o-m.” DJ immediately erased any trace of whine. This time she would present her idea just as she and Amy had their pony club plan. Businesslike and to the point.
“Mother, please listen to me. I’ve come up with a way to get more done in my day, and I’d like us to talk about it.” She hesitated a moment. “Please?” She kept her hands behind her back so her crossed fingers didn’t show.
Lindy started to say something, then changed her mind. “All right. Since you’ve put so much thought into this, I’ll listen. But that doesn’t mean I have to agree.”
Two days had passed since their last blowup. Nothing more had been said, so DJ knew she would not be grounded. But this morning she had woken up with a gonzo idea. Amy agreed with her. Amy also advised her on how to handle her mother. Now they’d see if this new approach worked.
DJ took a deep breath and made sure she had a pleasant expression on her face. “Mom, you’ve always told me that it is important to have goals and work toward them.”
“Of course.” Lindy turned her head a fraction to the side. Her look said, What’s up?
“Like you do. You know my goal is to ride in the Olympics one day.” Lindy nodded. She leaned back against the sofa and crossed her arms.
“So.”
“So, most of the Olympic contenders, like the ice skaters and the gymnasts, work out for a couple of hours before school, then again afterward. I never—” she caught herself. She had just overslept. “I like getting up early. Morning’s a good time for me. If I could work with Major at about six or so, then I’d have more time in the evening for stuff around here.”
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