Dad actually blushed. “Well, I have a long way to go. I’ll make it wireless, of course. And I can’t add weight to the ball.”
“It must be so tight to be an inventor,” Sal said. “What else are you working on?”
“Funny you should ask, Sal,” Dad said. “Just this morning, I got the idea for an alarm squirter. You know? For those mornings when you sleep right through the radio and the buzzer. The clock would squirt you with water.”
“Man! I’d cut my tardies in half if I had something like that. Can I see it?” Sal asked.
“I’ve only just started . . . but sure! Come on!”
It was unbelievable. Sal followed Dad to his workshop and stayed there for 30 minutes.
Finally I had to go out and get her. She was down on her knees, holding a piece of clear plastic tubing while Dad attacked his old alarm clock.
“We’re almost there, Winnie!” Dad called. “Sal has a good eye for invention.”
Sal grinned at me.
I let them play awhile longer, then dragged Sal out to the barn.
Outside, it had stopped sleeting. But the rain had frozen on tree branches, wrapping them in clear, sparkling ice. The trees twinkled.
Amigo was ready for us. This time everything was different between Sal and him. Sal wasn’t in a rush. And Amigo didn’t try to bolt from her. We did a whole imprinting session, just like Mason and I had done with the filly. Winnie the Horse Gentler was back. Nickers could go back to just being Nickers.
“He’s not such a bad little guy, is he?” Sal said, scratching Amigo’s chest. “Wouldn’t he look tight in pierced earrings?”
“Not a good idea.” I showed her the horse greeting, how to blow into her horse’s nostrils. Sal tried it. It took her three attempts before Amigo blew back. When he did, Sal acted as if he’d recited the Gettysburg Address.
“He’ll be a great friend for you, Sal. You could keep him in your grandmother’s backyard. There’s room enough. He’ll be easy to take care of.”
Please, God. Please?
“Maybe you’re right,” Sal said.
Thank you!
“I had a really good time, Winnie,” Sal said, as if that fact had taken her totally by surprise.
“Me too. But we better get a move on, Sal. I have to wash my hair and get ready. I’m sure you do too. Dad can drive you home. Oh, yeah. Brian won’t come to get you. Dad’s dropping me off. We could swing over and pick you up first and maybe—”
“Winnie,” Sal interrupted. “Brian will be there. No way I’m going to that party.”
Sal and I made our way up to the house. The clouds were breaking apart and letting patchy light through, turning glazed branches into giant diamonds.
“If you don’t go to Summer’s party, what will you do, Sal?” I asked. “Is it too late to go with your grandmother and Nathan?”
“Yeah, thank goodness. Gotta admit, I hate being at Gram’s by myself. That place is creepy at night, but it’s better than Slick Hair’s.”
I rode along when Dad drove Sal to Gram Cracker’s. We scrunched in the cab of the cattle truck, and Sal didn’t even make a wisecrack about our only “car.”
“Are you all set for the big night?” Dad asked, obviously trying to make conversation.
“I don’t plan to do much,” Sal said, focusing out the frosted window that reminded me of Granny B’s doilies.
“Aren’t you going to the Spidell New Year’s Eve party?” Dad asked.
“Nah. I’ll probably crash early. Or maybe I’ll catch a horror flick on TV.”
Dad tried to get me to look at him, but I stared straight ahead. It wasn’t my fault Sal wasn’t going to Summer’s party. She could go. So what if Brian was there?
“Well, why don’t you come over and celebrate with us?” Dad offered. “Madeline’s coming over. And Lizzy and Geri have cooked up enough for an army.”
In the reflection of the windowpane I caught a glimpse of Sal’s face. I thought I saw her eyes flicker, then go out.
“No. That’s okay, Mr. Willis. But thanks. I’d feel weird.”
“We’d love to have you,” Dad insisted. “Are you sure, Sal?”
“I’m sure.”
Dad pulled up in front of the Cracker house, and Sal hopped out.
“Winnie,” she said before she shut the cab door, “be cool.” She smiled at Dad. “Thanks for the ride and everything, Mr. Willis.”
She bumped the truck door shut, then walked toward the house.
Dad didn’t pull away.
My stomach felt like harness horses were racing in it. I kept imagining Sal in that house, alone, watching a horror movie. Crying.
I leaned across and threw open the door. “Sal! Come back!”
Sal turned around, frowning.
“Come back!” I shouted. “I’m not going to that party either.”
Sal retraced her steps, still scowling. “I thought you said you were going.”
“You know me. I’m not big on parties. Come on. We’ll celebrate with Amigo and Nickers and the foal. How’s that?”
“And me!” Dad added.
“And the slightly crazy Willis clan,” I agreed.
Sal grinned. “Yeah?” She shrugged. “I was kind of looking forward to that horror flick . . . but okay.”
“Good. Get in,” I said.
Sal shook her head. “Need to change first. And a hot bath. It’s stopped storming. I’ll just walk over later.”
“Won’t hear of it,” Dad insisted. “How’s this? I’ll drop Winnie back home. She can use a shower herself. Then I’ll pick up Madeline and Mason and swing back over here for you. Maybe in an hour? Will that work?”
“Cool.” This time Sal trotted to the house and waved before going inside.
I’d like to say that I felt great and was looking forward to greeting in the new year more than ever. But I didn’t feel great. I’d probably never get invited to another New Year’s Eve party. For sure, not one of Summer’s parties.
Dad dropped me off at home, and I went straight to the phone and dialed Summer’s number. I had to look it up. It’s not like Summer and I are phone buddies.
The phone rang four times before someone picked up. “Hello?” It was a guy’s voice. Young. But not Richard.
“I’m sorry. I was trying to call Spidells’.”
“Winnie? Is that you?”
“Grant?”
“Yeah. I got roped into setting up tables. You wouldn’t believe it over here. Summer and her mom have gone crazy decorating. Hey, do you have a way to get here? We could get somebody to give you a lift. It’s still pretty wicked out there. You don’t want to walk.”
“I’m not coming.” My stupid voice cracked.
“You’re not? I thought Summer said you were.”
“I was. That’s why I’m calling. Things have changed. So I won’t be there.”
“Why, Winnie?” Grant sounded like he really wanted to know. Like it mattered.
So I told him. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but it all came out. About Sal. About Brian. About how I’d decided to stay so Sal wouldn’t end up alone at her grandmother’s house.
“Well, I’m sorry you won’t be here, Winnie.” He sounded like he meant it. “Sal’s lucky to have you for a friend.” In the background I heard Summer shouting and someone else laughing. “I’ve got to go,” Grant said. “Happy New Year, Winnie.”
He hung up before I could wish him the same. But I guess he didn’t need it.
I hung up and saw Lizzy and Geri staring at me.
“That was a really good thing you did, Winnie,” Lizzy said. “You’re a good friend.”
“And Lizzy knows everything about being a good friend,” Geri added. “Must run in the family.”
“Come on,” Lizzy said, taking my hand, “let’s get you ready for our party!”
By the time we heard Dad’s truck pull up, we were all ready. Lizzy and Geri wore matching black stretch pants and frog-green shirts, and I wore my famous skirt and
blouse.
Mason came thundering into the house first, looking like a miniature orchestra conductor in a black suit and tie, which he wriggled out of before he reached the kitchen. “New Year!” he shouted. “New Year!”
I lifted him up and swung him around. “New Year to you too, Mason!”
Dad was taking Madeline’s coat.
I peered behind them. “Where’s Sal? Dad! Did you forget to pick her up?” It would be so like my dad.
I caught a glance between Madeline and Dad. Then she said, “I’ll go see if I can help Lizzy in the kitchen.”
Dad finished hanging up their coats, then turned to me. “Sal wasn’t there, Winnie.”
“What do you mean she wasn’t there?”
“I honked. I knocked. I even prowled around the house and peeked in windows, against my better judgment. Madeline insisted. But nobody was home.”
“But she had to be there!”
“Look,” Dad said. “Maybe she just stepped out to a neighbor’s or something. Or maybe she started walking over.”
But I could tell he didn’t believe that any more than I did.
I called Sal, but nobody answered. How could she do that? I slammed the receiver. I’d never speak to Sal again—not that she’d notice. It wasn’t fair. I’d done what Lizzy and Dad did with their friends. I’d been there for Sal, even when she’d showed up hours, or a whole day, late. And where had it gotten me?
Here. While everyone else in my class was at Summer’s.
For the next hour I ate Lizzy’s cookies and tried to act like I was having a good time. I even ate one of Madeline’s sandwiches. She’d brought them over in her battery-powered bun warmer, which had overheated and nearly fried the tuna.
I thought Sal might at least call me and let me know where she’d gone. I even rehearsed what I’d say to her, how I’d tell her off. But the phone just hung there on the wall, not ringing once.
“Would you like me to run over and see if your friend’s home now, Winnie?” Madeline offered.
I shook my head. “Thanks for asking, though.”
I waited until Mason fell asleep on the couch. Then I made my escape for the barn.
But before I reached the front door Lizzy caught me. “Here.” She handed me a small bag that smelled like molasses. “I made these treats for the horses. I’m sorry about Sal, Winnie.”
“Well, don’t be,” I snapped. “I’m not.”
A few stars peeked around night clouds as I walked to the barn, but I couldn’t see the North Star, no matter how hard I looked.
Nickers greeted me as soon as I stepped inside the barn. I slipped into the stall with Nickers and Friendly and breathed in the smell of hay and horse as if I’d swum up from deep water and needed oxygen.
“Hey, guys,” I said, putting one arm around each of them. “Nice to be with creatures I can count on.” I gave them Lizzy’s homemade treats that looked like everything horses love held together with molasses. Nickers gobbled hers down, and Friendly lipped hers and nibbled some of the oats. Lizzy had even made one for Annie Goat.
Amigo came up when I went into his stall. And for the first time he nickered to me. Then he downed his treat in two bites.
After a while the horses went back to their hay nets, and I moved outside to the paddock. I pulled out a bale of hay and sat on that, leaning against the barn. I still couldn’t see Catman’s North Star, even when I looked through the V of the tree.
“Winnie?” Lizzy called from the barn.
Maybe Sal had finally called. “Out here, Lizzy!”
She came out, hugging her arms and shivering. I could tell by her expression that she didn’t bring good news.
“Sal didn’t call, huh?” I said.
“No. But Hawk did. She tried to call you at Summer’s to wish you Happy New Year. She wants you to call her tomorrow. She was on her dad’s cell.”
“Is that all, Lizzy?”
“No. Nate called to wish us Happy New Year. Winnie, he said Sal and Brian are back together. They went to Summer’s party. I’m so sorry.”
Big, fat surprise.
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. So this was how the old year would end and the new year begin.
“Come on inside, Winnie,” Lizzy urged. “In a half hour it will be the new year.”
“I’ll be in pretty soon, Lizzy.”
She tried to talk me into coming with her. Finally she gave up and ran back to the house.
I opened the stalls and let Amigo into the paddock. Nickers pushed open her stall door, and she and Friendly trotted out too. The three of them pranced around the paddock. I knew those horses, and they’d come to trust me.
If Sal were a horse, I’d have had a chance of understanding her. So how come everything works with horses, and nothing works with humans? I asked God.
I sat on the bale, stared up at the sky, and tried to imagine what Summer and Sal and my classmates were doing at that exact moment. Then I tried to imagine what was going on in Sal’s head. That’s what I’d done with Amigo. I do it with all horses. I try to think like they do.
Sal probably needed to feel a part of Summer’s crowd, to believe she had a boyfriend. She didn’t have a Lizzy. Her dad didn’t sound like my dad. I didn’t think she had Jesus as a friend either. But she still didn’t have to act so tough around me, like she didn’t even care that I gave up the party for her.
The branches creaked inside their icy shells like they wanted out. Sal had a pretty hard shell. I wondered if she ever wanted out. Lizzy told me once that bugs have their skeletons on the outside. The hard outside protects their soft insides. Maybe that’s how it was with Sal.
I felt someone behind me. “Lizzy?” I turned around.
But it wasn’t Lizzy. Sal stepped out of the barn. She was wearing the pink ski jacket, with a red miniskirt and red high heels.
An hour ago I might have yelled at her and told her off. But without my even knowing when it happened, the yelling had gone out of me. “What are you doing here, Sal?”
She sat next to me on the bale and emptied snow out of her shoes. “What do you mean? I said I was coming, didn’t I?”
“Right.”
Amigo trotted by us. I thought of how far that horse had come.
“Grant told me that you probably did want to go to the party, that you just canceled so I wouldn’t spend New Year’s Eve alone.” Sal stared at her hands as if she couldn’t figure out where the fingers came from, like they belonged to someone else.
Something inside me thawed, and I wondered if this is what peace feels like.
“Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me, Winnie. Just kept being there for me. You know?” Sal elbowed me. “I haven’t been the most reliable horse-training partner in the world.”
I grinned up at her. Her eyes glistened like the iced trees. “Sal, are you crying?”
She swiped her eyes with her pink sleeve. “Me? No way! And don’t think this means we’re buddies or anything.”
“Us? No way!” I said, but I didn’t mean it.
“Still,” Sal said, “it’s pretty tight that you gave up that party for me.”
Amigo walked up to Sal and stretched out his neck to be scratched. Sal obliged him.
“Far out!”
Catman Coolidge strolled out of the barn, followed by Barker and a host of cats.
“Catman? Barker?” I cried. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
“We already cheered in the new year at my house,” Barker said. “We pretended nine o’clock was midnight. That way Johnny, Mark, Luke, and William got to stay up. Matthew’s still up. But Catman and I thought we’d hike over and wish you Happy New Year.”
“I’m glad you did.” And I couldn’t have thought of two people I’d rather start out the new year with.
“Pull up a bale,” Sal said.
Catman and Barker dragged out another bale of hay and took their seats.
We stared silently at the stars for a minute. All kinds of things
were swirling in my head. Good thoughts, though—about patience and peace, about imprinting and how maybe that’s the way Jesus was working with me, staying with me even when I struggle. And how maybe that’s how I’m supposed to work with other people.
The sky was beautiful, even with clouds hiding half the stars. “The only thing we need is that North Star of yours, Catman,” I complained. “Wish it were still up there.”
“It’s groovy, man,” Catman assured me. “The star is always there, whether you see it or not.”
Of course! That star had been there all the time, even when I couldn’t see it. I thought about what Ralph had said, about Jesus always being there, about the friend you see and the Friend you don’t. God had been there all the time too, even when I hadn’t seen him.
Then the whole crew thundered through the barn and came into the paddock. Lizzy and Geri led the way, carrying platters covered with foil.
“We’ve got food!” Lizzy shouted.
“Do we ever!” Geri said. “Toasted cheese-and-peanut-butter sandwiches and french fries, complete with a jar of mayonnaise for fry dipping!”
Mason stumbled out into the paddock. He slipped on an icy patch but caught himself and kept barreling straight for the foal. Then he stopped and walked slowly up to her.
I glanced back at Madeline. She looked like she was biting her lip clear through so she wouldn’t freak out over Mason and the foal. But she didn’t yell or call him back.
The filly let Mason put his little arms around her neck.
“Hi, buddy,” Mason muttered. “My buddy.”
“That’s a great name for her, Mason!” I called. So what if Buddy was more of a boy’s name. The foal was Mason’s buddy. It was perfect.
Nickers whinnied loud and long. As we all looked over at her, she buckled her knees and dropped into the snow. Then my horse rolled to her side. Up to her knees. Back to her side. Then she rolled over on her back and wiggled, side to side, making deep shapes in the purple-patterned snow.
Amigo plopped into the snow and mimicked Nickers. Then Buddy did the same thing.
“Great idea, Nickers!” I shouted, running out beside her. “Snow angels!”
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