“ … and peeks around her hind legs, with the dam’s tail feathered over her face.”
“And you drew that?”
“A couple of times now. My aunt wants to show it to a friend of hers in Connecticut who owns some gift stores. They might want me to make copies for framing and others in note cards—you know, like Amy and I did at Christmas.”
“That’s wonderful. You know, if you could spend as much time with your art as you do with your horses, you’d …” She stepped back with a shrug. “I know, I know, but you can’t blame me for trying. You want to jump in the Olympics, and I want you designing the symbols.”
“Yeah.” But a glow warmed her stomach region.
“You want to bring one in to show me?”
DJ shrugged. “Sure, I’ll bring it tomorrow. Why?”
“Well, there’s a drawing teacher in San Francisco who has offered to take ten students for a weekend at her home and studio. She chooses them based on what she thinks of application drawings.”
“Ten? From all the high schools?” DJ shook her head. “No chance.”
“But you’ll bring it in and let me enter it if I think it has possibilities?”
DJ shrugged again. “Why not? How much does it cost to enter?”
“Nothing but the postage, and I’ll spring for that.”
“It’s your dime.”
“Nothing goes for a dime anymore, DJ.” Mrs. Adams wandered off to the next student, leaving DJ concentrating on her still life.
What chance did her foal drawing have when she couldn’t get the perspective right on a silly picture frame?
On the way out of the classroom, she stopped at Mrs. Adams’ desk. “Do you know when the art weekend will be?” “No, why?”
“Well … just in case … you know …” “In case she chooses you?”
DJ nodded. “If it was a show weekend, I couldn’t go.” “When do your shows start?” “I think the first show is the last weekend in April.” “No problem. I’m sure this was earlier in the month.” “Okay, thanks.” DJ hustled and still was late for her PE class.
When she got home from school, DJ felt like falling on the bed and sleeping the night away. Instead, she forced herself to get dressed and ride her bike to the Academy. Pedaling along beside Amy, DJ could feel the sweat start under her arms and on her forehead. At the stop sign, she stopped and leaned her head over the bars, fighting to catch her breath.
“You sure you shouldn’t have stayed home?”
“No … no … I’ll be okay.” A pain stabbed her right side. She rubbed her ribs, but the pain didn’t go away. Ignoring it, she pushed her pedal down and pealed out. Going downhill to the Academy drive was easier, and the pain disappeared. Parking her bike beside the barn, she headed to the office.
“DJ, I am so glad you are here.” Bridget pushed her chair back and stood. “You are well now?”
“No, she isn’t. She should be home.” Amy stopped next to DJ. “She’s weak as a newborn kitten.”
Some friend, DJ thought. If only she wasn’t so right on.
Chapter • 7
DJ poked Amy with her elbow. “The ‘weak’ kitten still has claws.”
“All right, you two.” Bridget shook her head, the glasses she had pushed up on her forehead slipping down with the motion. “DJ, Mrs. Johnson insists she is ready to start training on Patches with your coaching.”
DJ groaned. “No, she isn’t. Or he isn’t.”
“I do not think so, either, but she insists and she could be right. She should know herself better than we do.”
“True, but I know Patches. And half the time Mrs. Johnson rushes and doesn’t take time to put him on the hot walker, so he’s just busting with energy when he starts out.”
“I’ve seen DJ on his neck,” Amy chimed in.
“And in the dirt.” DJ made a face. She pantomimed spitting out dirt.
“Mrs. Johnson will be here in a half hour. You want to put Patches on the hot walker now?”
“Right.” DJ kept the groan inside. Bridget frowned on grumbling and forbid excuses.
Bridget studied her notes. “Your three girls are doing very well. You can be proud of them.”
“Thanks.” A compliment from Bridget ranked up there with purple Grand Champion rosettes. “Anything else?”
“Yes, I might have another green broke horse coming in. She is about the same level as Patches was when you began with him. Would you be interested in taking her on?”
“Sure.” Even as she agreed, her mind went into speed mode. That sure would help with the money situation. But the cautious side of her mind responded, Yeah, right, with all the extra time you have already.
After they’d entered the tack room, Amy said, “That new horse is going to need an hour a day, at least in the beginning.” She swung her grooming bucket with one hand.
“I know.” DJ rubbed her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “But I need the money. I’m about broke again. Major needs shoes, and he’s due for worming pretty soon.”
“Doesn’t the Academy pay you next week?”
“Yeah, but it’s never enough.”
DJ led a dancing Patches out to the hot walker and clipped him on. “See if you can behave today. Or I swear, I’ll pound you into the ground.” Patches snorted, spraying her with bits of the horse cookie she had given him. “Yuck.”
Major sent her a big-time welcome, nickering and tossing his head. In the next stall, Ranger joined the party. Major leaned as far over the blue web gate as he could, his nostrils fluttering in a soundless nicker. When DJ wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, he rested his cheek against hers. “Hi, big guy.” Major sighed, a big sigh, and leaned on her shoulder. She rubbed up behind his ears and down his neck.
“I sure missed you.” She patted his shoulder and stepped back so she could dig his carrots out of the front pocket of her sweat shirt. While he munched, she retrieved the brushes from her bucket and set about grooming him. “I see your old dad’s been here and cleaned out the stalls, huh?”
Major looked over his shoulder as if to agree.
“Sure wish we could ride now, but I have to give a lesson first. Probably should have ridden Patches before Mrs. Johnson gets him, but the hot walker will have to do.”
The thought bothered her. Maybe DJ should ride him first. If he got his training lesson, then he would be more willing—right? Against her personal desires, she dropped the brushes back in the bucket and, giving Major a last pat, headed for Patches’ stall. She left the grooming bucket there and retrieved the horse from the hot walker.
“You better behave.”
Patches nosed her pockets for the treats he knew lived there.
She’d given him a half hour of drills by the time Mrs. Johnson arrived.
“Sorry I’m late,” she called from the railing around the covered ring. “You want me now?”
“Yes.” DJ stopped Patches in front of her. “We’ll keep to the far end of the ring.” She watched Mrs. Johnson mount and settle herself in the Western saddle. “Now, remember, with Patches, you have to watch him every minute. He will test you every chance he gets.”
“I know. Boy, do I know.”
“Okay, let’s see you walk, keeping fairly close to the rail. Walk on.”
To DJ’s relief, Patches obeyed the entire lesson. He laid his ears back when ordered to back up, but other than that, the lesson was all DJ could have asked for.
“I have a favor to ask. Since I have an appointment on Thursday, is there any chance you could fit me in tomorrow afternoon? I’ll try to get things straightened out by next week.”
DJ thought a moment. While it meant no riding time for her, other than her own lesson, she agreed. “Make sure you rub him down good. He works up a sweat trying to behave.” She gave the horse a pat on the neck. “Good going.”
Riding Major was like all good dreams rolled into one any time, but especially compared to Patches. DJ warmed her horse up slowly, still concerne
d about the leg he had injured in the landslide. But Major showed no sign of a limp and did all she asked with such willingness, she could have sent up skyrockets.
When she finished with him, her three girl students were lined up at the railing, waiting for her.
“He sure is smooth on the changes,” Samantha called, flipping her long red braid back over her shoulder. “You’ve been working hard.”
“We missed you,” Krissie said when DJ stopped in front of them. “You okay now?”
“Pretty much.” DJ ignored the twinges in her legs. How could muscles go so soft in only a week? “Sure hope you don’t get the bug, Angie.”
“Me too,” the slender girl with big brown eyes replied. “Flu bugs and asthma don’t mix too good.”
DJ swung open the gate, Major backing up so smoothly she got a wink from Sam.
“The day Soda here does that, I’ll bring chocolate chip cookies for everybody.”
“Horses too?” Krissie nudged her horse through the gate.
“Yep.”
The three gigglers moved off together, sitting relaxed at the walk but with their horses alert and ready to work.
The memory of Bridget’s compliment regarding this class gave DJ the boost of energy she needed all of a sudden. If she’d been walking, her knees might have melted down. Instead, she slumped in the saddle, then rotated her shoulders. Sucking in a deep breath, she called, “Okay, move into a jog, slow and easy. Keep the pace around the corners.”
She rode up by Angie. “More leg on the inside. Keep him on the rail. Krissie! What’s with your shoulders?” The blonde straightened her back immediately. “Good, Sam. Can you feel his mouth?
“Come on, all of you, deeper in the saddle. Just because you’re riding Western doesn’t mean you don’t use your seat as an aid, too.” All three had improved their backing skills since the last lesson. “Hey, did you know Bridget said you did really well?”
“Really?” The three girls exchanged surprised looks.
“She was tough,” Krissie said with a wrinkled nose.
“It’s good for you.”
But as they filed out the open gate at the end of the lesson, Angie whispered, “We like you better.”
By the time Joe dropped her and her bicycle at home, even DJ’s teeth hurt.
The house smelled good, like pasta for dinner.
“Hurry up, DJ, we’re about ready to sit down,” her mother called from the dining room. “No, you boys sit here. DJ will be back in a minute.”
DJ groaned her way up the stairs. She wanted dinner about as much as she wanted breakfast right now. She switched into a pair of sweats, stuffed her feet into her fuzzy slippers, and stopped off at the bathroom to wash her hands.
During grace, she nearly dropped her chin in her plate. Chewing the sourdough French bread took all the energy she owned.
“May I please be excused?” she said, her plate only half empty. The conversation had been going on around her, but for the life of her, she had no idea what had been said.
“Not yet. As I said, we will be having family devotions every night after dinner.” Robert smiled across the table at her.
“Oh.” Anything more took too much effort. DJ stayed in her chair. They pushed their plates back, and Robert picked up his Bible.
DJ propped her chin on her hand and blinked a couple of times. Her eyelids wore fifty-pound weights.
“Tonight we will read from …”
DJ heard no more.
“Darla Jean, are you all right?” Lindy shook her daughter’s shoulder.
“Huh?”
“You fell asleep at the table.” She felt DJ’s forehead. “You’re not warm.”
“Mom, Robert, I’m sorry. I can’t remember when I’ve been this tired.”
“You shouldn’t have gone to the Academy. I knew it!” Lindy tipped up her daughter’s chin. “Look at those eyes.”
“Good night, DJ,” Robert said. “Come on, fellas. We’ll read a story, then you get a bath.”
“Is DJ sick again?” one of them asked.
“If she isn’t careful, she will be.”
“Sorry,” DJ muttered again, pushing back her chair. The stairs seemed fourteen stories tall. She never remembered hitting the bed.
In spite of a fuzzy head in the morning and the boys’ constant questions, she remembered to take the drawing of Storm Clouds in to her art teacher.
“DJ, this is wonderful! You caught the imp in the foal, yet the tranquillity of the setting. Catching a feeling like this is difficult. You can be certain I am going to send this in to the competition.”
One of the other students looked over the teacher’s shoulder. “All right, that’s excellent.” Since seniors rarely said anything to freshmen, DJ blinked at him.
Any words that would have made some kind of sense fled. “Uh … uh …” Kevin O’Conner, one of the nicest guys in this school, and that’s all you can say? Come on, you can do better. She swallowed and forced a “thanks” past a desert-dry throat. If her throat was as hot as her neck, she might break into flames any second.
“I’ll make a copy and give this back to you. They said not to send the originals.”
DJ stared at the cuticle of her right thumb. As soon as she heard Kevin move off, she dared to look up again. “Okay.”
Mrs. Adams gave her a look that showed she understood. The flames heated up.
DJ fled to her stool and got out her still life. Still life—that’s me all right. Can’t even be polite without swallowing my tongue. After calling herself a couple more names, she took in a deep breath and let the air relax her shoulders. Tight as she was, she couldn’t draw a curved line, let alone a straight one.
But the magic of pastels in her hands took her mind away from the boy wearing a red sweater sitting three rows behind her and over one stool. Soon she was lost in the drawing, in the coloring and the shading.
“You need to put your things away now,” Mrs. Adams said.
The announcement caught DJ totally unaware. She blinked as if waking from a nap and closed her drawing pad. The handle on that pitcher still isn’t quite right, she thought as she left the room.
This was one of the few times in her life DJ was grateful to see an empty driveway. The house would be quiet. But when she looked in the mirror, she was glad her mother wasn’t there for another reason. One look at her daughter’s white face and black-circled eyes and there would be no time at the Academy.
Maybe I ought to start wearing makeup, DJ thought as she changed into her work jeans and sweat shirt. That would at least hide the circles. She glanced toward the bed. If only she dared crawl into it for even fifteen minutes.
Instead, she slipped on her shoes and stopped at the refrigerator for an apple and a juice box, something new at their house. The boys liked juice boxes. DJ and Gran had been too ecologically conscious to want such things in the house.
At least they could recycle the soda cans.
She rolled her bike out of the garage and glanced up at the sky. Could rain, but then, maybe not. Ordering her legs and mind to get together, she pedaled down the street to Amy’s and waved from the street.
Amy stuck her head out the door. “Gotta get my bike.”
DJ leaned her forehead on her hands at the center of the handlebars. She’d never tried sleeping on a bike before. But now even that might help. You’d think you’d be getting stronger, not weaker, the inner voice taunted her.
“Hey, DJ, wake up. Time to go to work.” Amy pedaled down the slanted drive and turned to head for the hill without stopping.
DJ pedaled after her. At the stop sign, just like yesterday, she had to pause for her breath to catch up with her. She’d left it somewhere around Amy’s house.
Mrs. Johnson already had Patches out on the walker and was visiting with Bunny, otherwise known as Mrs. Lamond Ellsindorf, so DJ went on to Major’s stall. During the short walk to the outside roof-only stalls, she played with the recurring questions about Bunny. Something abo
ut the woman bothered not only DJ but the other student workers, as well. No one could figure the newcomer out. Fit in she didn’t.
DJ opened the web gate and entered Major’s stall. “Clean already, boy. We got a good grandpa, huh?”
Major nodded and nosed her pockets for the treats. Ranger nickered, poking his nose over the highest bar, begging, too. She gave them each a carrot chunk, then using both brush-filled hands, gave Major a lightning-fast but thorough grooming. After brushing shavings out of his tail, she declared him ready for a ride. She and Major would have their own lesson— in jumping for a change—after her session with Mrs. Johnson.
“Feels like years since we jumped, doesn’t it, fella?”
Major lipped another carrot off her palm and munched in her ear. She bent over and ran her hands down his front legs, feeling for the hot spot that had been there for so long now. Nothing.
“I’ll tack him up now if you are ready for us.” Mrs. Johnson and Patches stopped in the aisle.
“Sure enough.” DJ straightened and gave the woman a quick smile. “Remember, it may still take some time to loosen him up.”
“I’m not so concerned about loosening him up as calming him down. He’s such a show-off.” She dug in her pocket for a piece of horse cookie, Patches’ favorite treat. As he munched, she stroked his nose, talking nonsense with him.
DJ smiled again. Women sure were suckers for their horses, herself included. In a couple of minutes, she headed for the arena, meeting Mrs. Johnson leading Patches. “If you want to mount up, I’ll handle the gate.”
“Thank you, dear. I wasn’t going to attempt that yet.”
“He’s getting there. He just doesn’t like to be rushed into new things. Takes his time getting used to them.” DJ swung the gate open, and Patches backed away. “Keep a firm hand on those reins and use your legs. Once he knows for sure you plan on being the boss, he’ll knock it off.” DJ felt like crossing her fingers behind her back. She’d always shown him who was boss, and still he dumped her.
They moved to the end of the arena, and the pair began circling at a walk. Patches twitched his tail and laid back his ears once in a while but, other than that, shifted smoothly into a jog, then back to a walk.
High Hurdles Collection Two Page 6