But DJ hadn’t ridden since Sunday and the trail ride into Briones. She stared out the window, past the running rivulets and at the gray sky. Yuck. Back to her homework.
“DJ?”
She groaned. “What?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Me too.”
“You just had a Popsicle.” She finished her juice bar and dropped the stick into the wastebasket by the bed.
“Only half.” They appeared at her door. Mouths lined in purple, noses red from the blowing and running. One had his Winnie the Pooh sweat shirt on backward.
DJ groaned again, set her book aside, and followed the groove she’d worn in the floor back to the kitchen. She split another purple Popsicle and sent them back to the family room.
“Our video is done.”
“Push Rewind and put in another.” The two could work a VCR better than most adults.
“When’s Gran coming home?”
DJ paused in the door to her room. “I don’t know. Soon.” She looked back to see both boys wearing the woeful basset hound look, dark circles under their eyes.
“Will you read us a story?”
“Please?”
“Look, guys, I have a mountain of homework to do, and I don’t feel so hot, either. Why don’t you each bring a book in here so you can look at the pictures while I study. But you have to be quiet.”
What she really wanted to do was take a nap. You’d think she’d been sick for a month, not five days. She plumped up her pillows again and settled a boy on each side of her.
“Now, you promised to be quiet.”
“Yes.”
The boys read, or rather, looked at the pictures quietly—too quietly. DJ glanced from side to side. They were both sound asleep. A yawn cracked her jaw. Maybe she’d just close her eyes for a second or two to give them a rest from all the studying. Her head bobbed as she dropped off.
The fire crackled and snapped, devouring the wood between her and the open barn door. DJ’s skin felt like it was being pulled off her flesh from the heat. She pulled on the lead ropes, but Stormy and her mother refused to leave the stall. A horse screamed. DJ ripped off her shirt and tied it over the mares eyes. With a breath of prayer, she dove between the flames. God, make them follow!
DJ sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding so hard it felt like her ribs would crack. She tried to take in a breath—when it wasn’t smoke filled, she knew for sure she’d been dreaming. The twin on either side of her squirmed and rolled over. She pushed the quilt back.
There was no fire! Thank God there was no fire! Rubbing the scar in her right palm, she inched toward the end of the bed. No wonder she’d dreamed of fire, with the quilt and the hot bodies beside her, she’d been on fire herself. She rubbed the scar again. If only she could remember the long-ago accident, maybe the nightmares would cease. And maybe she wouldn’t freak at the sight of fire.
A drop of sweat ran down her right temple. She gulped the remaining water in the glass on the nightstand and made her way to the bathroom. It took drinking another whole glassful before she could get the feeling of smoke out of her throat. She leaned straight-armed on the counter and stared at the face in the mirror.
“When are you going to get over being so scared of fire?”
The face didn’t answer. DJ ran shaky fingers through her hair, pushing it back off her face. Picking up the brush, she worked it through the snarls and, wrapping a scrunchie around the stuff, got it up off her neck. That helped.
“Man, oh man.” She pulled her T-shirt away from her chest, turned on the water, and scooped it over her face. She could hear Joe and Gran in the kitchen and wandered out there.
“DJ, what’s wrong?” Gran took one look at her and laid the back of her hand against the girl’s forehead. “Your temp’s back.”
“I just had a terrible dream. I couldn’t get Stormy and her dam out of a burning barn.” The memory of it sent a shiver up her spine.
“When people run fevers, they often have strange dreams.” Joe turned from the cupboard where he was putting away groceries.
DJ plunked down on the wooden stool by the phone. “I’m sick of being sick.”
“Drink some orange juice.” Gran reached for a glass in the cupboard and handed it to her.
“I’m sick of orange juice. All I want is to go see Major.”
“I already fed the horses. He asked about you.”
“Funny.” But she couldn’t help smiling—almost.
“So did Tony and Amy and Bridget. Bridget especially hopes to see you soon. She’s teaching for one of the others who’s out sick, too.” Joe raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and Bunny asked after you, too. Said she has something she wants to ask you.”
Gran shook her head. “Don’t even think it, DJ. You go over there and you’ll come home sicker than ever and—”
“I know. And no one else wants my germs.” DJ mimicked Gran’s tone.
“Maria’s sister called. The doctor ordered Maria to the hospital. She has pneumonia plus infections in her sinuses and ears. Now she’s really sick. You want to change places with her?”
DJ shook her head. “Can I call Amy?”
“Sure.” Gran turned to Joe. “We really need to go visit Maria tomorrow. Maybe Lindy and Robert could stop on their way out from the airport.”
“If they call first.” Joe poured himself a glass of water.
Talking to Amy didn’t help DJ a whole lot. Only Amy and John hadn’t caught the bug at their house. All the rest were sick.
“Do you have a book for me to read? I need to do a book report.”
“You want John to bring over a Nancy Drew? If I can get him to, that is.”
“I guess.”
“Well, don’t act too excited.”
“Guess it’s better than doing algebra.”
“So, do you or don’t you? You know you’ll owe him something if he does it.”
“I’ll ask Joe.” When he agreed, she took the phone off her shoulder. “Joe’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and propped her chin on her palms, elbows braced on the counter.
A glass of orange juice clunked on the counter beside her.
“Drink!”
Gran’s tone said now, so DJ drank.
“You need anything else?” Joe asked on his way out the door.
DJ shook her head. “But thanks.” She watched him go. “How can I be tired when I just slept again?” She rubbed her forehead. “Can I get in your bed? The boys have mine.”
“They’ll be out here in a minute. I just heard them.” Gran came and gave DJ a hug. “You’ll live, darlin’.”
“I know. But this stuff is really the pits.” She leaned her forehead against Gran’s shoulder.
“I want my daddy.” One of the boys shuffled in and leaned against DJ.
The other clutched Gran’s apron. “Me too.”
DJ reached for the box of tissues and handed them each one. “Blow.” She rolled her eyes at Gran and shook her head. “One thing’s for sure, I will never be a nurse.”
By Sunday evening, DJ had all her homework caught up but the book report. She tried skimming the book just enough to do the report but kept getting caught up in it. She filled out the book report form as much as she could and kept on reading.
By 8:00, they still hadn’t heard from Lindy and Robert.
“When’s my daddy coming?” Both boys looked up at DJ from the floor by her feet.
“Got me.” DJ looked to Gran for an answer. If they’d asked once, they’d asked a million times.
“Sometimes planes are late,” Gran said. “Why don’t you go sit on Grandpa’s lap? Maybe he’ll read you a story.”
“He’s sleeping,” DJ hissed.
“Oh, you’re right.” Gran gathered both of the twins close. “You go get a book, and I’ll read you a story.”
DJ went back to Nancy Drew.
Nine o’clock came and went.
“But I want to stay up and see my d
addy,” Bobby argued when Gran said it was time for bed.
DJ’d finally figured out a way to tell them apart. She’d put a red shirt on Bobby and a blue one on Billy. They thought it was funny. Even without their color-coded shirts, DJ knew Bobby as the one who argued more.
“How about if I call the airport and see when the plane is arriving?” At Gran’s suggestion, their frowns turned upside down. “While I do that, you go get into your pajamas.” They scampered out of the room and down the hall. “Daddy’s coming, Daddy’s coming!” they chanted.
“They’ve been on the ground for over an hour,” Gran announced when she hung up. “They could be here any minute.”
Joe checked his watch. “Depends on how long it takes to get their luggage. I’ll go dish up some ice cream. Come on, DJ, you can chop the nuts for sundaes.”
“Do you have good fudge sauce?” She put the book down and got to her feet, taking time to stretch in the process.
“The best. Mrs. Whatshername’s Fudge Sauce.”
“You’re a good man, Charlie Brown,” DJ quoted the last book Gran had read to the boys.
The sundaes had disappeared and another book had been read when the sound of a car made both boys sit up straight. “Don’t need a watchdog with them on guard.” Joe let loose so Bobby could slide to the floor. When they heard the car slow down and turn into the driveway, both of them darted to the window. “Daddy’s here! Daddy’s here!”
DJ breathed a sigh of relief. While she hadn’t said anything to anyone, she’d been praying for a safe drive from the airport. She’d heard that most accidents happen within five miles of home.
“Daddy! Daddy!” The twins both would have pelted out the door into the rain if DJ and Joe hadn’t grabbed them.
“Sorry we’re late,” Robert called, helping Lindy out of the car at the same time. “Fog in Los Angeles.” Arm in arm, the two came up the walk. The glow from the yard light set haloes of light around them.
The look they gave each other told the whole story. DJ swallowed a lump in her throat. Her mother’s face glowed like the streetlights lending iridescent shimmers to the fog.
Robert wore a child on each arm as they all gaggled in the living room.
“We was sick.” Bobby put his hands on Robert’s cheeks and turned his head so he could look right in his father’s eyes.
“Real sick,” said the other.
“Nanny Ria is in the horsepistol.”
“Horsepistol?” Robert thought a moment. “Oh, the hospital.” He turned to his father. “What’s been going on?”
“Strep and flu. We all had it and mostly got over it, but they put Maria in the hospital yesterday with pneumonia.”
“So you’ve had the boys since when?”
“Last Sunday afternoon, late. I went in to get them.” Gran stood between DJ and Lindy.
“They weren’t supposed to come out here until this afternoon. I’m sorry, Dad, if I’d known—”
“Nothing you could have done. This whole area’s been under siege. You two didn’t get it?”
“No, nothing.” Lindy reached for one of the boys and sat down on the sofa with Billy on her lap. “We brought you some presents,” she said after kissing his cheek and ruffling his hair. “DJ, could you go get the extra bag out of the trunk?”
“I will.” Joe reached for Robert’s keys.
DJ snagged a jacket off the hook in the closet and followed him out the door. Again, the boys took center stage. She might as well have not been in the room. But when something needed doing, who did Lindy ask?
Me, that’s who. Good old DJ, the walking, talking mule. Good for fetching and carrying, but always easy to ignore. Is this the way life is going to be?
Chapter • 6
DJ still had a headache in the morning. Or was it another?
“Bye, honey, I’ll call you later.”
“Bye, Daddy.” The two voices spoke as one.
The door closed on Robert. In a minute, he started his truck and backed out the drive.
On this first morning as a family in their own house, DJ heard it all. She forced her eyes to remain open. No way was she going to stay home from school today. Headache or no, she forced her muscles to move and headed for the bathroom.
“DJ’s up! Hi, DJ! You want to play Legos?”
Big mistake. She should have checked to make sure the hall was clear first. “Sorry, guys, I gotta get ready for school.”
“We can help.”
“No … I don’t think so.”
“Bobby, Billy, your breakfast is ready.”
The way miraculously cleared in front of her as the boys pounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Did they never try slow motion?
DJ took a shower and washed her hair. Even that small action made her tired. This looked to be a long day, no two ways about it. She was brushing her teeth when the pounding came on the door.
“We need the bathroom, DJ. You gots to hurry.”
DJ groaned. “In a minute.” She squeezed toothpaste onto the brush.
“I gotta go.”
“Use the other bathroom.”
“Can’t. Mommy is in there.” A hand jiggled the doorknob.
DJ groaned louder. With a mouthful of toothpaste, she pulled her nightshirt back on over her wet hair and opened the door. She went back to scrubbing her teeth but turned when she caught two blue pairs of eyes staring at her. “Now what?” She spit, then caught water in her hand to rinse her mouth.
“You still in here.”
She spit out the rinse. “So?”
“So we gotta go.” They danced in place.
Groan number three. “Look, guys …” She caught the look of distress on their faces and threw up her hands. “Okay, I’ll leave.” I’ve given them baths and dressed them. But now I have to leave. She shook her head and went to her own room to dress. The day was growing longer instead of shorter.
By the time Lindy dropped DJ off at the high school, her ears were ringing from the constant chatter and her cheek was sticky from the Bs’ good-bye kisses. Her mother waved good-bye with a cheerful smile.
“Have a good day, dear.”
“Right.”
“Bye, DJ! Bye!”
She turned from the curb to catch one of the high-school boys laughing. Was it at her? She could feel the heat in her face, and this time it wasn’t from running a temperature.
“Hey, glad to see you could make it.” Amy flashed her a grin. She looked again. “What’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your face—it’s all red.”
DJ shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”
“Sure, I do.” Amy switched a couple of things from her backpack to her locker. The warning bell rang. Together they walked toward their homeroom. “So?”
“You’re used to little brothers and sisters.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not.” DJ sighed. “They are so … so busy. They talk all the time, they run up and down the stairs, they need the bathroom, they …”
“They fight?”
DJ frowned and shook her head. “I guess not, or at least not much.”
“Then you’ve got it made. Fighting’s the worst.”
They slipped in through the door just as the final bell rang.
“Would you ladies like to take your seats?” Mr. Deushane arched an eyebrow. “Welcome back, Miss Randall.”
The flames fanned her face again. Couldn’t he just call her DJ like she asked? But, no, Mr. Deushane called all students by their last names, with a Mister or Miss in front. “Thank you.”
“Everyone brought their homework?”
DJ breathed a sigh of relief. She’d gotten all of hers done, even the makeup. She passed her papers forward with the rest of the students. Since they were studying nutrition, she’d drawn the new pyramid for the food groups, adding chocolate in parentheses at the bottom.
When he’d collected all the papers, he handed out one of his own. Sporadic groa
ns rose at the word quiz at the top of the paper. “All right, everyone.” He raised his hands as if directing a choir. “Together, and on three. One, two, three.” Now everyone groaned in sync.
DJ smothered a giggle. While some of the kids made fun of Mr. Deushane behind his back, she thought he was funny, no matter how dull the topic might seem.
When DJ got to art class, she breathed in clay, oil paint, acrylic, glue, paint thinner—all the odors that when mingled together said art room. To DJ’s mind, the smell of the art room was second-best to horse. Gran’s rose water came in a close third.
“You got over the bug, huh?” Mrs. Adams, the teacher, asked. “Glad to see you back.” As the others straggled in, she donned her paint-smeared smock and began moving from station to station to check on individual projects. The still life of an empty picture frame, a cylindrical terra cotta pitcher, and a purple silk iris in a clear water glass still graced the top of a draped table. All the students were working in pastels, so the smell of chalk dust tickled DJ’s nose, making her sneeze. She took her pad out of her cubbyhole and perched on her stool. Since she’d been gone a whole week, she was just beginning the drawing.
She’d finished roughing in the outlines when Mrs. Adams stopped at her side. “Check the perspective again on that frame. It’s off a bit.”
DJ stared at the still life, then at her drawing. She erased the top line and squinted to see if hers followed the other angles. Lightly redrawing it, she checked again, using her pencil at a slant for both.
“Good,” Mrs. Adams said with a nod and a pat on the shoulder. “If you have time after school one day, you could stay and catch up.” She smiled. “I know, you have to get to the Academy.”
“I’ll try for Wednesday, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure. You working on anything at home?”
“I’ve drawn a couple of my new filly, Storm Clouds.” DJ turned on the stool, her heels hooked over the rung. “She is the cutest thing you ever saw. She hides behind her dam—that’s the mother. …”
At DJ’s questioning eyebrow, Mrs. Adams nodded. “Thanks, you know I don’t know horse terms.”
High Hurdles Collection Two Page 5