by Kate Lattey
As soon as assembly was dismissed, I was on my feet and determined to give those boys a piece of my mind. But I got held up by the slowpokes sitting next to me, who were too busy gossiping to notice that I was trying to climb over them, and they gave me filthy looks as I shoved my way past. I could hear Katy telling me to wait up, but I ignored her, figuring that she’d catch up with me soon enough.
Outside in the warm morning air, students were congregating in clusters, moving even more slowly out of the building than they had been going in, because getting to first period was never high on anyone’s priority list. I looked around for Lexi, but I couldn’t see her. She was probably the only student who did care about being on time to class, and she absolutely hated being in a crush of people. She’d have booked it out of there as quick as she could, and would be long gone. The boys mocking her had melted into the crowd and become unidentifiable once more.
“Jeez AJ, where’s the fire?” Katy was red-faced, having been forced to shove her way through the thick mass of students to get to me. “Anyone would think you were desperate to get to English this morning, but I know that can’t be the case because it’s your worst subject.”
“I was looking for Lexi,” I told her, filling her in on what I’d seen. She pulled a face.
“They sound like idiots. Was she upset?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think she even noticed.”
“Well then.” Katy shrugged, and started walking in the direction of our English classroom. “I wouldn’t freak out too much.”
“Why? Just because she didn’t realise she was being made fun of doesn’t mean it’s okay for someone to be doing it,” I replied. “I’m worried about her, that’s all.”
Katy nodded sympathetically, but I knew that she didn’t really understand. She was an only child, and had no idea what it was like to live with siblings, let alone one with special needs. It was called ASD now – Autism Spectrum Disorder, formerly known as Asperger’s Syndrome – but whatever you wanted to call it, it amounted to the fact that Lexi wasn’t quite like everyone else. Her lack of social skills and occasional frustrated outbursts had always made her an easy target for bullies, and for years my brothers and I had been vigilant against them. But we couldn’t be there all the time, and even though Lexi was sixteen now, I still felt protective of her. And I couldn’t help being concerned. When Lexi got upset, she snapped, and although she was academically a very good student, she didn’t need any more disruptive episodes on her school record. My parents were already struggling to keep up with the extra outside tuition they paid for each week, because whoever was in charge of the school funding had decided that Lexi’s high test scores meant she didn’t require a teacher aide any longer, which hadn’t been the case at all and had led to one disaster after another. It had been a long year, but it was almost over, and we were all looking forward to the break.
Katy nudged me as we walked, then nodded at a group of older boys over to our right, standing around and trying to look cool. The tallest, blondest one in the group was my brother Anders, who Katy was more than slightly obsessed with, on account of his annoyingly good looks and somewhat charming personality (although I still maintained that he was harder to live with than he was to look at).
“Yes, Anders is still alive,” I reassured her without stopping.
“Don’t you want to tell him what happened?” Katy asked, her interest level in Lexi’s situation skyrocketing when it meant an excuse to talk to Anders. He must’ve felt her eyes on him because he looked in our direction, and she waved.
“Nah, we’ll be late for class,” I told Katy, grabbing her arm and dragging her past him. “I’ll fill him in tonight at home.”
“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug, pulling her arm free of my grip as we stepped into the shadows of the school building.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and my mind was full of Squib when I climbed onto the bus, wishing I was going to Katy’s to see him instead of straight home to study. But it was Monday, which was my designated homework day. Now that I was away competing with Katy most weekends, my parents wanted to be sure that I was staying on top of my schoolwork, so they’d set this as a requirement for me being allowed to go to shows. I hadn’t exactly been in a position to bargain with them, given that unlike Katy’s mother, my parents couldn’t care less whether I ever went to a show in my life. But I had to admit that so far, their plan was working. I got more done on Mondays than the entire rest of the week put together, because by the time I dragged myself home after riding Squib (and usually one other of Katy’s ponies to help her out) every other week day, I was too tired and hungry to get much homework done. And despite my best intentions, studying while we were at shows had never been successful at all.
The most inconvenient thing about having to study on Mondays was that Anders had rugby training, so I couldn’t bug him for a ride home to avoid the bus. Well I could have, but by the time I’d sat around waiting for him to finish training and get changed and drive home, I’d wasted almost two hours of potential study time, which was definitely not worth it.
I sat down on the bus and pulled out a textbook, flipping through the pages of notes and trying to get a jumpstart on studying so that I’d have some free time to research the benefits and perils of shoeing horses on the internet tonight when I was done. The bus was noisy and full, and just before we started moving off a large girl sat down next to me, pinning me into my seat. I forced myself to concentrate on my book, but found myself reading the same lines of text over and over without comprehension. Then I heard my sister’s voice from a couple of rows back.
“Don’t do that!”
If I’d been a pony, my ears would’ve swivelled backwards at the sound and my head would’ve shot up. I couldn’t move my ears, but I shifted sideways in my seat as much as possible and craned my neck, looking behind me. I could just see the side of Lexi’s head, her long ponytail swishing from side to side.
“I didn’t do anything,” a boy’s voice said earnestly, his attempt at integrity shattered by his friends’ sniggering laughter.
“Yes you did. You kicked my seat,” Lexi told him angrily.
“No he didn’t,” said another one. “You must’ve imagined it.”
“Yeah, maybe you dreamed it,” interjected a third.
I could sense Lexi’s frustration building. It drove her crazy when she knew people were lying to her. She wasn’t really any good at reading people’s expressions or body language, and she didn’t always get sarcasm, but if she knew that she was being blatantly lied to, she would lose the plot.
The bus slowed down, and I hoped the boys would get off at this stop, but they didn’t. Neither did the girl pinning me against the window, so I was trapped there, helpless as the doors slid closed again and the taunting continued.
Most people would’ve ignored it, or told the boys where to get off, or given back as good as they were getting. But Lexi didn’t do any of those things – she wasn’t wired to. She wanted people to be honest and straightforward and not confuse her, and I could sense the anger burning up inside her, preparing for an explosion.
“You did it again! Stop it!”
Lexi’s voice was getting more high-pitched and much louder, and several other conversations died out as they started listening to her.
“Oi, keep it down!” called the bus driver, and I cringed. Yelling at her wasn’t going to help in the slightest, and I knew I couldn’t sit still any longer.
I squirmed around on my seat until I was kneeling and looking backwards, muttering an apology to the girl next to me as I jabbed her with an accidental elbow.
“Hey, leave her alone,” I told the boys, but the noise level in the bus had risen again and they didn’t hear me. Neither did Lexi.
“I’m going to tell on you,” she told them, her voice carrying down the aisle.
“Tell who?”
“The teachers.”
“Tell them what?”
&nbs
p; “That you kicked my seat on purpose.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Yes you did!” Her voice was approaching a pitch that only dogs would be able to hear, and I winced. The boys were idiots, and must’ve kicked her seat again, because she hit maximum velocity with the next outcry. “STOP IT!”
The bus driver had had enough. He jammed the brakes on, making us all jolt in our seats and he glared angrily back at us in the rear-view mirror as he pulled up to the next stop. A couple of kids got off, but the doors didn’t close behind them.
“You too,” the driver demanded, looking at Lexi. “That’s enough bloody screeching. Off!”
Lexi hadn’t realised yet that he was talking to her, but the boys sitting behind her made sure of it.
“He means you, Screamer.”
“You better get off the bus, quick.”
The driver repeated himself. “OFF!”
I stood up at the same time as Lexi did, fuming. I looked down at the girl next to me, and she shifted her bulk towards the aisle so that I had to try and squeeze past her. Lexi was on her feet and looking even angrier.
“C’mon Lex, let’s get out of here. These people suck.” I walked down the steps and jumped onto the footpath, then looked up at her. She was still standing at the top of the stairwell, glaring around at everyone on the bus.
“You all suck!” she told them loudly, her temper getting the better of her. “And you’re liars and you can all go to hell!”
Oh, great. I stood and waited until Lexi had stepped off the bottom step. The bus driver whisked the doors closed and drove off in a cloud of diesel fumes, leaving me and my sister stranded on the side of the road, several kilometres from home.
CHAPTER TWO
I leaned against the stable door and watched as Rick drove the nail into Robin’s hoof with four swift, sure strokes, then twisted the pointed end off and let it fall onto the concrete pad. I still hadn’t made a decision about Squib’s shoes, much to Katy’s disdain. I’d spent most of Monday evening online trying to research the pros and cons of shoeing horses instead of doing my schoolwork, but all the information I found had been adamant that I would be causing my pony long-term damage by letting a farrier nail big chunks of metal to the bottom of his hooves. The more I thought about it as a concept, the stupider it seemed, and while the rational part of my brain reminded me that horses had been ridden for years in shoes and had survived, there were also a lot of things about horse riding that had been accepted for years as ‘just the way it’s done’, without anyone really thinking about why we still did it. Take mounting from the left side, for example. Back in the olden times soldiers had carried their swords on their left hip, so had mounted from the left to avoid bashing their horses with their swords. It made complete sense, but it had become a tradition that continued down the years to modern times, even though that reasoning was completely irrelevant now. And I’d also discovered an increasing number of people whose horses were successfully show jumping without shoes, which meant that it could be done – even right here in New Zealand.
Rick set Molly’s hoof down and accepted the glass of water that Deb was handing him.
“Cheers.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead before taking a long drink. “Much better.”
“So’s Robin, thanks to you,” Katy told him. “He looks sound in the paddock, and the vet’s coming later this week to check him out again and decide whether he can go back into work.”
“Good to know.” Rick handed the empty glass back to Deb, who headed back towards the house. “Almost done, then I’ll get your grey trimmed up,” he said, nodding towards me.
Katy was giving me a pointed look, so I spoke up. “Do you think I should put shoes on my pony?”
Rick looked at me, then shrugged. “Why the change?”
“He’s been slipping a bit,” I said. “I don’t want him to get hurt, but…” My voice trailed off as I wondered how smart it would be to start asking a farrier if he was doing long-term damage to horses’ joints, because even if he knew he was, he would be unlikely to admit it.
“A bit?” Katy interjected. “He fell over in the jump off last weekend,” she told Rick on my behalf. “Lost his whole back end on the turn, strained himself pretty bad. She’s just moved him up to metre-fifteens, and he’s entered in his first metre-twenty at Taupo in two weeks. But AJ won’t admit that he needs shoes for traction, so you’ll have to talk her into it.”
Rick frowned as he moved to Robin’s back hoof and lifted it, resting it on his knee. “It’s not my job to talk you into anything,” he told me. “You’re the rider, you know what’s best for your pony.”
“But she doesn’t,” Katy insisted, following him to Robin’s hind end. “He can’t jump metre-twenties and move up to Grand Prix next year if he can’t even keep his footing on the corners.”
Rick looked up at me. “If he’s slipping a lot, studs will help,” he said. “That’s why we use them.”
“What about the strain on their legs?” I asked tentatively, thinking again of Aidan’s knee injury after his stud had caught on the grass. He’d made a full recovery, according to the physio, but he wasn’t as fast as he’d been before, and probably never would be again. It hadn’t bothered him overly much because he wasn’t planning on a rugby career anyway, but if Squib suffered an injury like that I’d never forgive myself.
“I won’t lie to you and say it can’t happen,” Rick admitted. “But it’s a calculated risk, just like riding tight turns on slippery ground without studs would be.”
He set the shoe against Robin’s hind foot and looked at it from all angles, trying to judge the fit. Satisfied, he pulled out his hoof knife and started gouging semi-circular chunks out of the sides of the pony’s hoof for the quarter clips to sit in.
“What would you recommend?” I asked him, but he just shrugged.
“Like I said. Entirely up to you.”
“If he was yours?” Katy pressed, wanting him to be on her side. But he wouldn’t be baited.
“If he was mine, I’d be too bloody chicken to jump a metre-twenty in the first place,” Rick said with a smile. Robin shifted his weight uneasily, and Rick set his hoof down for a moment. “If you really don’t want shoes on him, I’m not going to tell you that he has to have them. He has good feet, your pony, nice and solid. He’ll be just fine barefoot for most things, but if he’s struggling with slippery ground then studs will help. It’s up to you to make that decision.”
He picked up a couple of nails and held them between his lips, then clicked his tongue to Robin, who lifted his hoof obediently.
“Just try it,” Katy said. “Give it a go, and see if you find a difference. If you don’t, then you can take the shoes off again. They’re not permanent, you know.”
I shrugged, supposing that was true. Rick drove the nails into Robin’s shoe, then glanced up at me.
“You better decide quick though, because if I’m going to be shoeing your boy today then I’ll need to drag my boy out of the ute and get him to give us a hand.”
I blinked at him, then glanced over at his dirty grey ute. For the first time, I noticed that there was someone in there, half-sitting half-lying across the back seat.
“Um…I think just a trim today. Since I haven’t given you any warning,” I decided, ignoring Katy’s exasperated eye-roll.
Rick nodded, driving the remaining nails home in Robin’s hoof and setting it down. “Okay. I appreciate that. If you do change your mind, give us a call and I’ll try and fit you in.”
As he spoke, the back door of the ute swung open, and we all looked up as a teenage boy climbed out feet first. He was tall, close to six foot, with wavy brown hair that glinted red in the afternoon sun.
“Aren’t you done yet, old man?” he asked. “Mum’s just called to say dinner’s on the table.”
“I said I wouldn’t be done until six,” Rick replied, then introduced us. “Harry, this is Katy and AJ. Girls, my son Harry.”
W
e nodded and smiled at each other, and I couldn’t help noticing Harry’s green eyes and broad shoulders. His eyes seemed to linger on my face for a moment, making me blush, then he returned his attention to his father. “It’s ten past six, Dad.”
Rick clearly didn’t believe him until he glanced at his watch, then swore. “She’s not going to be happy with me.”
“Nope.”
“Give us a hand to finish up then,” he told his son, who groaned but shut the ute door behind him and headed in our direction. “Get your pony out for him AJ, he’ll do the basic trim and I’ll tidy it up afterwards.”
Squib was fully engaged in a game of Bite Your Face with Lucas, but he pricked his ears at me as I stepped into his loosebox, his leadrope swinging from my hand. I was pretty sure that none of the online natural hoof care forums recommended letting your farrier’s teenage son file your horse’s hooves, no matter how cute he was, but I wasn’t sure I could say that to his face, so I led Squib out onto the concrete and stood nervously by his head.
“Cute pony,” Harry said, reaching up to rub Squib between the eyes. My pony butted his head against Harry’s arm, and he chuckled. “Smart arse. Okay then, let’s see what we’ve got.”
He ran his hand down Squib’s foreleg and lifted it easily, then brushed the loose shavings off with his other hand. “Nice hooves.”
“It’s got fantastic feet, that pony,” his father commented as he clenched Robin’s nails.
“Yeah, really good.” Harry picked up the hoof nippers at his feet and started clipping off the overgrown edges of Squib’s hoof.