Nothing But Horses

by Shannon Kennedy

  Olivia and I headed out the back door and around to the parking lot where the bus waited to take us back to Marysville. I’d thought we’d be the last ones to arrive and we’d hear about it from Coach Norris. I was wrong. Jack and Bill jogged up behind us.

  I flicked a glance at them. “What were you two doing?”

  “Watching your little adventure,” Jack said. “We’re going to the Centennial games tomorrow night. Want to come see them play for a change?”

  “You know it,” Olivia said. “Let’s see if we can psych them out.”

  “They play fair,” I said. “That’s major.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Shamrock Stable, Washington

  Friday, January 31st, 6:40 am

  Mom turned from the coffee-pot when I hurried into the kitchen with my backpack and sports bag. “Do you want oatmeal?”

  “No. I’m running late.” I’d barely had time to dry my hair so I braided it while it was still damp. I didn’t have a chance to stress about clothes so I opted for clean blue jeans and a green Shamrock Stable sweatshirt fresh from the dryer. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab something at school.”

  “That will cost money.” Mom went to the cupboard, pulled out the cardboard container of cereal and scooped a serving into a plastic sandwich bag. “Now eat this when you get there.”

  “Okay.” I put the little packet in the outside pocket of my backpack and headed to the fridge to grab the lunch I’d packed the night before. “I’ll be home in time for chores.”

  “After practice, right?” She followed me toward the front door.

  “No. After the girls’ team play up at Centennial Mid-High. A bunch of us are going to scope out their strategy. They’ve been doing it to us for weeks. It’s our turn to do it to them.” I glanced in the living room where Autumn and the dogs watched cartoons while she ate her cereal. “See you after school, sweetie. Good luck on your spelling test.”

  “I got that. Dave helped me with my words.” Autumn returned to laughing at the dancing ponies on the screen. “Luck on your basketball practice.”

  I bent to hug Charlie and got a puppy kiss that left oatmeal on my cheek. Now, I knew why he and Queenie hung with my little sister. They obviously got bites of something tastier than kibble. “Bye, puppy. Be a good boy.”

  “He always is,” Mom said. “Don’t worry about chores tonight. You deserve a treat. Have fun with your friends.”

  I wiped my face quick before she saw the evidence of what Autumn really did with her breakfast. “Why do I deserve a treat?”

  “Don’t you think I see how hard you’re working on your people skills?” Mom tiptoed up to kiss my cheek. “All I’m hearing are compliments about you this month, Sierra. Your coach told me last night that you inspire the rest of your team. Now, have a great day.”

  She turned and went into the living room, telling Autumn if she gave the dogs any more oatmeal, she’d have another bowl. I was out the front door before I laughed.

  My day continued to shine. Robin had celebratory espressos waiting when I got to the Commons at Lincoln High. She mocked me about the oatmeal, but when I told her that oat hay gave No, No Veda energy and my breakfast lasted for hours, she said she might try it.

  “My mom thinks I’m becoming more patient and tolerant of stupid people,” I said. “Have you ever heard such garbage?”

  “She could be right.” I must have looked like she was messing with me, because Robin held up her hand. “Think about it, Sierra. Last Saturday morning when Eddie screwed up his blankets, you just told him to take them off and try again. You didn’t heave a huge sigh, do your martyr routine and go saddle Houston for the kid.”

  “I didn’t have time,” I said. “I had to get all the horses put together before I left for Community Theater.”

  “Exactly and how about that?” Robin stirred her mocha with the straws. “You spoke up and suggested Mr. Haller choose the best singer for the lead in the spring musical. You got other students to go along with the idea. It was the production first, not you. Coach Norris would say that you showed there isn’t an “i” in team.”

  “It’s theater, not basketball.”

  “It’s the same thing.” Impatience slid into Robin’s face. “Open your eyes, Sierra. They teach us about life here. It doesn’t matter what the teachers use. It can be English or Social Studies or basketball or drama or cheerleading. I’ll bet when Weaver gives us a group project this semester, you’ll handle it differently than you would at Mount Pilchuck.”

  “Well, sure. You guys would do your share and I wouldn’t get stuck doing everything.”

  “You would expect us to do our share and we’d step up. You wouldn’t do it all and then let us share in the credit.”

  I froze in my chair. My brain felt like it whirled around, a pony on an old-time carousel. “Oh, wow. That’s what the judge meant.”

  “What judge?” Dani arrived in time to hear my comment. “Are you showing Nevada somewhere this weekend? Do you have to remember the last time you were in the ring?”

  “No, at Rocky’s last divorce hearing, the judge said that doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results each time was the definition of insanity. It’s why my mom ended up in counseling. I really have been doing it too.”

  “You think?” Dani reached out and took the cup Robin offered. “Why would you do something different? Louise says our parents are the first teachers we have. They model the behaviors they want us to have even when they don’t realize it.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t get it before.” I drank my coffee. “I’ve got to pay more attention to what’s happening around me.”

  “You and the rest of the population on this planet.” Robin handed over Vicky’s latte as she joined us. “So, are you in Saturday school for planting one on my brother in front of the entire student body last night?”

  “Ms. Walker chewed my ears all the way back to Lincoln. Talk about a majorly bad road trip.” Vicky sat down, peeling off the lid. “I promised it wouldn’t happen again, that I’d been overcome by the excitement of such a tight victory. And she said she wouldn’t write me up.”

  “How many ma’ams did you use?” Dani asked.

  “None.” Vicky shuddered at the notion, then went back to chugging her peppermint latte. “She would have totally freaked. She and Brianna were in Afghanistan together. You have to know who to use last word on and who hates it. Those words have incredible power. It majorly works on my mother. I’m cleared to go to Centennial this afternoon.”

  “She’s right,” I said. “Jack’s coach has issues with sir too, but Norris doesn’t.”

  The first bell rang. We drained our coffees, gathered up our stuff and headed for the English wing before Dr. Danvers rousted us.

  * * * *

  At practice that afternoon, I walked up to Coach Norris before I changed to my practice jersey and shorts. “Can we end early today?”

  “Why? Do you have a sick horse at home?”

  “No. My mom hasn’t called, or texted so everything is fine in the barns.” I glanced over my shoulder as Olivia came toward us. “A bunch of us want to go up to Centennial Mid-High and watch their teams play ball this afternoon.”

  “Interesting idea.” Coach Norris didn’t walk off toward the equipment closet. Instead, he blew his whistle and waved at Patricia and Willow who had just entered the gym. “Go get the whole squad. Tell them to hold off on getting ready for practice. I want to talk to all of you.”

  While the rest of us gathered around him, Cedar gave me a long dark-eyed look. “What’s up?”

  “We want to go harass the Crusaders and check out their strengths and weaknesses for next Thursday,” I said. “They’ve been doing it to us and we want to turn it around on them.”

  “Succinct explanation, Sierra,” Coach said. “Now, how many of you plan to go?”

  “We all want to,” Neva said. “We just don’t want to blow practice.”

  “Here�
�s the deal,” Coach told us. “If you go to Lake Windemere and watch their squad, we’ll cancel practice for today. It means we’ll know what to work on next week. We’ll do it. And everybody tries their hardest then. No excuses. No slacking. Is it a go?”

  A few cheers later, we’d agreed. Didi pulled out her phone to check with her mom and Kanisha cleared it with her dad. Then, the ten of us headed for the parking lot. We had enough cars between us to drive to the other school. Coach Norris had made us promise to buckle up, follow all the speed limits and take our time driving there so we arrived safely. This team was majorly turning around and I loved it.

  When we walked into the gym, warm-ups had already started. Since we didn’t wear uniforms at Lincoln, nobody called us on being from our school. I eyed the other team shooting baskets. It was Mount Pilchuck. I glanced at Olivia. “Okay, I’m sitting on the Crusader side. No way am I rooting for M.P. How about the rest of you?”

  “You have me.” Olivia strolled beside me toward the grandstand. “Everybody else can make up their own minds.”

  “Works for me.” I waved to Aspen. She shot a beautiful three-pointer, and then passed to a tall, dark-haired, Native girl in a white and red Crusader jersey. “So, who is that? You know everyone at this school, don’t you?”

  “Not all of them. That’s my cousin, Phoenix. She keeps me posted on most of the Centennial gossip.”

  “I’m glad to know that. I wondered how you got the inside track.” I smiled at Aspen when she jogged over to us. “It’s our turn to check out your team. Good luck.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Well, of course,” I said. “We don’t like M.P. more than we don’t like you.”

  Aspen laughed, shook her head, the long red braid bouncing. “You are a crazy girl. I bet we’re friends after basketball season.”

  “Why not?” I shrugged. “My puppy thinks you rock. I trust his judgment.”

  “Okay, then.” She held up her hand and we high-fived. Then, she turned and ran back to her team.

  * * * *

  Olivia, Cedar, Kanisha and I talked strategies for next week’s game while I drove them home to the reservation on the west side of Marysville. Afterwards, I headed for the Burger Palace. Tom always worked Friday nights. He’d told me it was when he made his best tips. The restaurant was still busy, but I only had to wait a few minutes to be seated in his section. He brought me water and a menu.

  “I’ll make this easy,” I said. “I’ll have my usual chicken fettuccini, house salad with ranch and a cola.”

  “I’m on it.” Tom smiled at me. “So, what are you doing loose on Friday night? Autumn told me it was when the two of you watched the Simpsons.”

  “Normally, we do. Today, the squad wanted to see Centennial play so we took a trip to Lake Windermere. They did an amazing job of kicking Mount Pilchuck’s tails.”

  “You’ll have to share the details later. Right now, I’ll put in your order.”

  While he did, I pulled out my cell and called home. Once Mom knew where I was, she wouldn’t worry. She asked me to be home by eleven and I promised I would. I didn’t actually have a curfew. It was always something we negotiated on a case by case basis.

  After he delivered my salad, I watched Tom work the room. He kept glasses full, carried around plates, followed through on what his customers needed. He made sure all the guests stayed happy and never seemed to be overwhelmed by their requests. I couldn’t have done what he did so easily. He took time to refill my water and I shared the scores. Both Centennial teams had won their matches against Mount Pilchuck.

  He liked that and returned to his circuit with a smile. He was back a short time later with my pasta and breadsticks. He refilled my water. “We close at ten. Stick around, will you? I have something I want to ask.”

  “Okay. No worries.” I wanted to do a little dance in the booth, but I restrained myself. I had to act cool like his request wasn’t a big deal. He was so cute, especially when he gave me those long looks from his chocolate brown eyes and that smile.

  A few minutes after ten, Tom came back with a box for my leftovers. “How was it?”

  “Great as usual. What’s up?”

  “Your birthday.” Tom took a deep breath. He seemed oddly nervous. “I have tickets to Marvella’s Spring Fling. Will you go with me?”

  “Are you joking? I’d love it.” I stopped, stared at him. “Wait a second. That show is a total extravaganza. The tickets cost a fortune. Tom, you can’t afford it. Can you get your money back? Let’s do something else. Dinner here and a movie, a cheap afternoon matinee.”

  He laughed, shook his head. “No, Sierra. These are V.I.P. tickets and they include dinner and dessert buffets, a barn tour, souvenirs. The works.”

  “Now, I know you need to get a refund.”

  “It doesn’t happen that way.” He sat down across from me, still amused. “I wasn’t going to tell you the truth. I wanted you to think I was a big shot, but I can’t. You’re too sweet.”

  “Okay, now you definitely have the wrong person.”

  “Sweet, because you won’t take something if you think it’s a hardship for me.” He picked up my hand. “Sierra, one of my regular customers is a reporter for the local paper. They get a lot of complimentary tickets to different events to share. Since he knows I like horses, he passed on two of those tickets to me.”

  “So, we can really do this?”

  “We really can.” He slid out of the booth, getting ready to go back to work. “The only catch is that it’s on a school night. We’d have to go right after basketball practice.”

  “For Marvella’s Spring Fling, I’d skip practice even if Coach skinned me alive.” I was on my feet too. I threw myself against Tom and hugged him. “You’re amazing.”

  “And it only took a horse show for you to see it.” He laughed, grinning down at me.

  “I always saw it. I just wasn’t telling you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Shamrock Stable, Washington

  Sunday, February 2nd, 1:15 pm

  January had felt like a wild and crazy month between the classes at Lincoln High, basketball, Community Theater, the at-risk group and puppy obedience. I’d missed my big red booger horse so after lunch, I headed for the barn and Nevada. He crunched down on carrots while I groomed him. I told him all about Marvella’s Spring Fling. “I’ve checked out their website and watched their trailers like a zillion times. We’re not doing the Roman riding, but I bet we can do some of their other tricks.”

  Nevada nuzzled me and I stroked his blazed face. “I know what this affection really means.” I gave him another carrot. “You missed your treats.”

  “I think he missed you too.” Dave stopped outside the stall. “Your mom told me about the Spring Fling. You’ll enjoy it.”

  “Have you been to it?”

  “Not this year. I went to one of their previous shows with an Animal Control officer from King County.”

  “How was it?” I started untangling a humongous knot in Nevada’s thick flaxen mane, the kind that my grandfather said was a remnant of a leprechaun riding my horse in the night. “Marvella’s videos on the Internet are incredible.”

  “You’ll enjoy the liberty work.” Dave rested his arms on the door and watched me fuss over my horse. “One handler with twenty horses, not a halter or lead in sight.”

  “No way. Even the natural horsemanship trainers have halters on the horses.”

  “Not these folks,” Dave said. “You’ll have to tell me what you think of them afterwards.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ll be talking about it for months.” My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out to check the text from Robin. “Hang on a sec, Dave. I have to gloat.”

  He laughed. “I promised your mom I’d bring down Wyoming for class. Have fun.”

  I warmed Nevada up in two classes. I kept him at a walk and trot since we hadn’t done much on Wednesday nights and I hadn’t ridden him the past two Saturdays. Once w
e finished class, I took him out on the trails for another hour of what I thought of as mud-surfing. Still, it wasn’t a rainy day ride. There were only a few muddy patches that Nevada slogged through, happily splashing in the puddles. He was ready to keep going, but not me. My legs felt like jelly when I led him into the barn.

  Tom stood in the aisle. “Hey. I was up for a lesson so thought I’d come see you after I finished. You look wiped. Is everything okay?”

  “Are you supposed to say I look exhausted? I thought if a guy liked you, he said you were gorgeous, no matter what. ”

  “You are.”

  I eyed him. “Okay, now I know you’re pulling my chain. You must be joking. Nevada may not be worn out, but I am. How can I be beautiful and exhausted at the same time?”

  “I don’t know, but you manage just fine.”

  “All right, enough malarkey as my grandma would say.” I led my horse into the stall. He nudged me and I dug out a carrot. “I need to ride more.”

  “Let me know when you add another twenty-four hours to the day. I could use them too.”

  I had to smile, especially when Tom came in to help me unsaddle Nevada. “So, tell me about your lesson. How’s Shiloh?”

  “I fed her a couple carrots so she wouldn’t hate me. I rode Summertime. It was like, wow. I graduated from an old pickup to a sports car.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He did. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard people rave about going from steady mounts to more responsive ones. This was different. Tom was so thrilled at the experience. He talked about barely touching Summertime and getting a trot. “I galloped for the first time. It was like flying. I almost forgot to turn him and Rocky said I had to focus or he’d run into a wall. Was she serious? Would he really?”

  “Yeah, Summer is a former show horse and whoever trained him totally broke his will. He has no sense of self-preservation anymore.”

  “How did they do that?”

  I scratched Nevada’s red neck. “Probably with whips and spurs, lots of beatings, sleep deprivation, lack of food and water. You can torture an animal the same way you torture a person. It sucks and all we can do is pick up the pieces afterwards and try to rehab Summer.”