Nothing But Horses

by Shannon Kennedy

  “Wow, I didn’t know you had one. You’re always working at Shamrock.”

  “Yeah, my life is nothing but horses. Only now, I’m supposed to sign up for Community Theater with Mr. Haller. My mom is going to freak.”

  “Well, if she totally screams at Mrs. Weaver, it won’t work. She’s the reason I go with Dr. Larry and help with emergency large-animal calls on Sunday. My parents thought I was going to be a princess forever. They didn’t have a clue that I dreamed about being a veterinarian.”

  Before I could answer, Dani hustled up to me, grabbed my arm. “Come on, Sierra. Move it, or we’ll be late.”

  I nodded and we hurried down the hall. It didn’t surprise me that Robin wanted to work with animals. She’d been saving kittens, puppies, cats, dogs, birds and even snakes as long as I’d known her. When her folks decided she ought to have a horse for her sixteenth birthday, I wasn’t shocked that she brought home Twaziem, a starved, abused two-year-old Morab. Was there any other choice? Not for her.

  Mr. Haller hung up the phone as we raced in the door. He smiled at us. “Breathe, ladies. Mrs. Weaver told me that she kept you late and didn’t want me to mark you tardy. Sierra, I hear you’re interested in helping with our spring production.”

  “It depends on rehearsals,” I said. “I have basketball practice almost every day.”

  “We meet Monday nights and Saturday afternoons.” Mr. Haller shuffled through a stack of scores on the piano. “By the time we get serious, basketball will be over.”

  That actually made sense. I looked at the large songbook he handed me. “Victor, Victoria? No way. You can’t possibly intend to stage this.”

  Comments erupted around me and Mr. Haller waved for silence. “Why not?”

  “Are you kidding me? It’s majorly politically incorrect.” I didn’t have to look at the blurb on the cover to know the story. “A starving actress pretends to be a guy that pretends to be a woman in Paris during the 1930s. He or is it she becomes a singing sensation and it creates a major ruckus when people learn the truth.”

  “It’s more topical now than it ever was before.” Mr. Haller gave me an approving look. “You’re familiar with the story. That’s good. Auditions this Saturday. Practice the “Le Jazz Hot,” number. You’ll sing it a capella, no musical accompaniment.”

  “I’d be happy to just be in the chorus or help put on the show,” I said.

  “Everybody helps anyway.” Dani opened her music folder. “We still all try out just for the fun of it and the experience.”

  “All right. This is all new to me. I’ve never been in a show before.”

  “You’ll love it.”

  * * * *

  That afternoon I changed for practice and stayed in the locker room until most of the other girls were ready to head into the gym. I would have loved to work on my dunks, but I didn’t dare. Coach Norris would decide I was showing off and then he’d want to bench me so I couldn’t play in tomorrow’s game.

  Gretchen hurried in and waved at me. “I didn’t learn anything today, but I’m going to keep working on it. Okay?”

  “Hey, you’re my favorite spy,” I told her. “I appreciate it.”

  I hung out and waited for her. I didn’t say the coach might have issues with me because I was too serious an athlete for him. I figured if she thought that, she would stop looking for the truth.

  After stretches, we started with lay-up drills, then ran lines and finally finished with scrimmages. Coach Norris continued subbing players and I kept passing to them. I didn’t shoot a single basket even when I was the closest. I sent the ball to someone else and let her take the shot. From there, we went onto our cool down routine of jogging laps around the gym. Finally, the whistle sounded and we circled around the coach.

  He reminded us to bring our blue and gold uniforms for the away game tomorrow. We’d be leaving from school. We had to ride the bus to Monroe and back. Nobody could leave with their parents after the game and that meant they needed to remember the rules too. When he dismissed us, most of the squad started for the locker room.

  Coach Norris flagged me down and I turned to face him. “Yes, sir?”

  “Did you want to ask me about moving to first string?”

  “No, sir. I don’t expect that.” I met his gaze and waited. “I understand that I have to pay my dues at Lincoln High. I’m sure I won’t make first string this season and I’ll never be point guard at this school.”

  Utter silence while we looked at each other. He ran a hand over his thinning hair. “If you keep trying to be a team player, you’ll be surprised how quickly you can advance, Sierra.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” I glanced at the clock on the far wall, trying not to let my emotions show. He totally infuriated me. “I need to go. I have twenty horses waiting for me to clean their stalls, water and feed them. I still have to pick up my tiara.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t all princesses wear their crowns when they shovel horse manure?” I shrugged, tired of him. I turned and walked away, not bothering to wait for him to end the conversation. He might be the world’s biggest chauvinist, but I didn’t have “Welcome” tattooed on my forehead and I was done for today.

  When I arrived home, Charlie raced to greet me. Unconditional doggie love made my world so much better. Carrying him, I walked in the kitchen from the mud-porch. As soon as she saw me, Mom topped off her cup, then filled a second with coffee for me.

  I put down Charlie and found treats for him and Queenie. “What a day. How was yours?”

  “Pretty good, but I just had a weird call from your basketball coach.” Mom opened the cupboard and found a package of peanut-butter cookies. She put them in the center of the table and sat down across from me. “He called and wanted to know if you really mucked stalls.”

  “What did you tell him?” I tore open the cellophane and snagged a cookie, dunking it in my coffee. “He’s pretty sure I’m a major diva.”

  “Where does he get that impression?” Mom sipped her own coffee. “I laid out all your responsibilities for him. I gave him the website address and told him that you maintained it. You feed twenty horses before school every day and take care of them as soon as you get home each and every afternoon. You teach lessons on Sundays after church. You train horses, deworm, hold for the shoer, design most of our riding programs and I have plenty more work for you to do.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I took a second bite of my cookie. “Is he calling Child Protective Services on you or getting me a ticket on the Underground Railroad?”

  “No, but I told him that if he has trouble with you playing basketball, then he can send you home and I’ll come up with the money for your tuition. It creates a hardship for me when you’re not here immediately after school each day.”

  “Really?”

  “No, but he was acting like an idiot and I ran out of patience with him.” Mom ate the last of her cookie and reached for a second. “As your grandpa says, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Sierra. I don’t like putting up with stupid people either, but if I rant and rave about it, I can’t feed the horses.”

  “I love you, Mom. You’re the best.”

  She smiled and reached over to cover my hand with both of hers. “Good. I’m glad you think so. Now, tell me about this sophomore project and the Community Theater.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Marysville, Washington

  Thursday, January 16th, 3:10 pm

  I sat in the back of the activity bus as far away as I could get from Coach Norris. Jack Gibson came down the aisle and dropped into the seat next to me. I flicked him a quick sideways glance. “I know the cheer squads ride a different bus. Are there assigned places for each team on this one?”

  “Not unless we act up.” He winked at me. “Then, we get the Lincoln High lecture and have to call our parents and ask them why we don’t have better manners.”

  I laughed like he intended and lowered my voice. “Coach decided I was lying about t
he twenty horses I take care of every day so he called my mom yesterday afternoon.”

  “Poor guy. I bet he still doesn’t know what ran over him. Did Rocky nail him?”

  “You know it. She’d already had a heart-to-heart with Mrs. Weaver who wanted to talk about the sophomore projects.”

  “Starting school in January means you missed the lecture about why this is so important. This way you learn all the elements for the one you have to do as a senior, the one that’s a Washington State graduation requirement.” Jack glanced up as a huge, sandy-haired guy stopped next to us. “Hey, Coach Evans. This is Sierra McElroy. I’m going to help her with English on the way to the game. Okay?”

  “Really? Why?” He gave me a solid onceover like he wanted to be sure we wouldn’t be kissing on his road trip. “Don’t you speak the language already?”

  I opted for my best bubblehead act and channeled Robin combined with Dani. I giggled. “Oh yes, sir. I just transferred to Lincoln, sir. And Vicky asked Jack to help me get squared away for Mrs. Weaver’s class, sir. I haven’t done reading logs since middle school, sir and she’s so tough on the details, sir.”

  Coach Evans narrowed his eyes and shot me a dark-eyed glance. “Don’t play last word with me, missy. You’re terrible at it. You should have been able to get ten sirs in that line of bull-pucky.”

  “No way. Who could do that?”

  “Me, thirty years ago.” He walked off, but not before I saw his smile.

  “Impressive.” I looked at Jack. “He’s awesome. Can I play on your team?”

  “No.” He nudged my backpack with his foot. “The guys would cry when you kicked their tails. We have enough drama now. Get out your book and log.”

  “Seriously? You’ll help me?” I dove into my backpack. “I just found out about these logs when I did my syllabus last night. Mrs. Weaver’s been amazing. She said she’d give me full credit when I turned the signed course outline in this morning, then she handed me two logs. The format has me boggled. What does she mean about text features?”

  Jack talked me through the reading log. Then, he helped me brainstorm my letter of intent for the theater project. He laughed like a hyena when I told him about the musical that Mr. Haller intended to stage. “I’d rather see that than one more rendition of Les Mis. Vicky dragged me to it last year because she thinks Hugh Jackman is hot.”

  “I like the old musicals better,” I said. “I could watch Oklahoma forever. You should see Hugh Jackman play Curly. He’s the best I’d seen since Gordon McRae in the original movie version.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes, way.” I looked forward and saw the two coaches sitting behind the driver and talking to him. I took out my cell, pulled up the video of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” on the Internet. I kept the volume low and passed the phone to Jack. “Check him out. He nails this part.”

  The song ended as the bus pulled into the parking lot of the Monroe school. I packed my stuff, zipping the backpack. Once the bus parked, we got off and I went to stand by Olivia and Cedar. Jack’s coach hung by Coach Norris for a few more minutes, then sauntered over to me. “Did you get your questions answered, Sierra?”

  “Yes. Thanks a lot.”

  “No problem.” Coach Evans grinned at me. “Glad to see kids using their time effectively, especially one who tries to play, last word. Good luck with that.”

  “Hey, I have a goal now. I’m going for twelve sirs in a sentence so I can beat you.”

  He laughed and headed toward the guys. “Go ahead and try, but not on me.”

  “What was that about?” Olivia asked. “I’ve never seen him that cheerful.”

  “He’s great,” I said. “I thought he’d lose it when Jack was helping me with my English assignments, but instead Coach Evans just let us work.”

  “I sat right behind him and Coach Norris on the bus,” Cedar whispered. “You impressed him. He told our coach that you were a very polite, focused young lady who was going places. He wanted to know if you were on first string and seemed surprised that you weren’t.”

  I glanced at the other team. The guys were cutting up and shoving at each other. I could see the camaraderie even in their horseplay. Coach Norris waved at us and we clustered around him with the rest of the girls. He reviewed our strategies, told us to listen to Patricia and Olivia, then led us toward the gym. As I walked in the door, he reminded me not to be a hero. I agreed and went to sit on the bench. Something about the crowd filling the grandstand on the other side of the gym caught my attention.

  Halfway up, I saw a tall redhead surrounded by a group of friends. What was Aspen Watson doing here? She played for a completely different school, one we’d face later in the season. Had she come to check out our strengths and weaknesses? Who had she brought with her? The entire first string from Centennial?

  I subbed in during second quarter again. I made a point of passing a lot and only shot when I was close to the basket. I didn’t go for any three-pointers or dunk yet. I wanted to play at the end of the game. Lincoln High was up by ten when the buzzer sounded for half-time. We went to the locker room set aside for us. Coach gave us a big pep talk about how wonderful we were doing.

  Patricia scowled at him. “We could be cleaning up the floor with these girls if you let Sierra play.”

  “Excuse you.” Coach Norris glared at the point guard. “Sierra played. She just finished last quarter.”

  “She only scored twice.” Patricia planted her fists on her hips. “I want a deal.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If we’re this bad off at the end of third quarter, you let her cut loose so we can win by a good margin. We’re being scouted today and I don’t want to be a laughing stock on Saturday at C.T. during auditions.”

  “C.T.?” Coach Norris looked baffled. “What’s that?”

  “Community Theater,” Neva told him. “We have to work together with Centennial Mid-High and Patricia’s right about the taunting. Aspen Watson brought her entire first string today. They’re watching and laughing at us already.”

  “If they’re disruptive, I can have them removed,” Coach Norris said.

  “They’re not making enough trouble for that.” Patricia heaved a sigh. “We can still win this thing if they think we have a strategy.”

  Coach Norris frowned at me. “Did you know about this? I don’t appreciate being sandbagged.”

  “Not me.” I backed a step, then another one, holding up my hands. “They came up with this. I didn’t.”

  “Let Sierra play,” Neva repeated. “Yes, she’s a hot-shot. We know that. We respect her for it. Either she goes full out for us or she might as well sit on the bench and do homework.”

  “Not a bad idea,” I said. “It’d totally psych out Monroe if I caught up my reading logs.”

  “I’ll think about what you said.” Coach Norris gestured toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  We headed for the gym again. When third quarter started, I pulled out my book and read Monty Roberts. I wondered if his “join-up” theory would work on our coach. Could I make the guy run circles until he flicked his ears, licked his lips and chewed? Probably not. What worked on horses didn’t always work on people, especially stubborn, old, macho chauvinists. Despite having the paperback open in my hands, I still kept an eye on the game. Once again, Olivia did a fab job as point guard, but Monroe had rallied. The margin narrowed even more when one of their wings shot a three-pointer.

  Patricia slid into place next to me. “You are going to kick backsides next quarter.”

  “You know it,” I said. “Keep Coach distracted so he doesn’t send in a sub.”

  She nodded. “We’ll all be running lines tomorrow, but let’s teach these girls that the Lincoln Yankees are a major force. With or without Coach, we’re going to State this year.”

  The clock wound down and I tucked my book into my backpack. Fourth quarter and I ran in with Kanisha and Zoey. I grinned at Olivia. “Okay, game on!”


  She nodded. “Get them.”

  “No worries.”

  Monroe had possession, but not for long. I stole that ball, dribbled down the court. Cedar and Kanisha were in place so I passed to them. No air-balls today for Kanisha. She shot and scored a two-point. Her dad couldn’t make it to afternoon games so she was on fire. Between her, Cedar and Zoey, we tied up the game in three minutes.

  The Junior Varsity cheerleaders started dancing and the crowd yelled. When they cut loose, shouting my number and name, I didn’t lose it. Instead, I concentrated on getting the ball to my team-mates. In the last four minutes, Patricia signaled me. She and the first string kept Coach busy all right. He was either talking to one of them or correcting another for misbehaving, so his attention wasn’t on the court.

  I went for three-pointers as much as possible. This time, Olivia saw to it that I got the ball whenever she had it. She passed to me and I either shot or dunked it. Soon, the other girls were doing the same thing, passing to me. The Monroe team didn’t know what to do. Their mistakes piled up, one after another. Finally, one of their forwards fouled me, elbowing me in the ribs right in front of the ref. I got three free throws and that added six more points for Lincoln.

  The buzzer sounded and it was game over. We’d cleaned up by thirty-three points. We did the “good sports” thing of slapping hands with the other team. I grinned at the forward who’d gotten all excited. “Good game.”

  “Thanks.” She flushed. “Ribs okay?”

  “Yeah. My horse kicks me harder.” That was bull. Nevada never tried to get me, not even when he was a colt, but I wasn’t about to say my side hurt. I’d throw some ice on it when I got home and I’d be fine by tomorrow.

  I headed for the bench and sat down. I heard someone move and the crowd shifted to let Mom through. She frowned at me, smoothed my hair. “Let me see.”

  “See what?” I caught the impatient look. “Hey, I’m fine. I’ve been hurt a lot worse at the barn.” She pointed to the end doors and I sighed. “Do you have to be such a mother?”

  “Yes. It’s either me or Dave and I know you don’t want him checking you for broken ribs.”