Horse

by Talley English

  * * *

  —

  The horse trotted evenly, his movement lateral through his back, not up and down. His head low, slightly flexed at the poll (the point between his ears), so that even his neck muscles were engaged; every part of him worked as a whole, and he was graceful across the flat ground, like a dancer transformed into a horse by a spell. She sat still on his back, her legs stuck to his sides as if attached to the long muscles of his back, and though she was still, her calf and thigh muscles burned, tiring but compressing, flexing against the horse’s sides in rhythm with his trot, as if she were pulling him up from the ground, helping him suspend in air for a fraction of a second when he pushed off the ground with a hoof; her shoulders were back and her back was straight; she gripped the reins; in her flexing fingers she held his heavy head; her arms ached holding his constant momentum; they traveled in a symbiosis of motion, appearing to float; the effort frothed the horse’s sweat into a white lather across his chest; her hair was damp under her helmet and her pores leaked salt, but rider and horse held the flow unbroken through the half circle, down the diagonal, around the half circle, back down the diagonal; the figure eight; then, finally, she stiffened and closed her fingers on the reins and the horse halted and the rhythm ended.

  * * *

  —

  “Oh my god, what are you doing?” Julie said.

  Teagan had her hands in front of her as if gripping invisible reins, and she’d been loping the figure eight as if she had been a horse, and she’d momentarily lost sight of her surroundings and looked up as if woken from a dream. She managed to look at Julie and laugh.

  “You know, there are real horses on this campus. Maybe you need to sign up.” Julie said.

  “Shut up. Let’s go,” Teagan said.

  Versus

  They had a few minutes before they had to be in the common room for their last proctored study hall. All of the other girls had been given early permission by Ms. Ganski to study in their rooms, because the common room was too small and they had to crack the windows to keep it from getting too warm. But, when Ms. Ganski left the room, Julie had balled up a piece of paper and flung it at Teagan. Teagan had the bad luck to wing it back at Julie just as Ms. Ganski returned.

  “I can’t believe we still have to do this,” Teagan said, stuffing books into her backpack to carry them down the hall to the common room.

  “Well, if you hadn’t gotten us in trouble,” Julie said.

  “You threw first!” Teagan said.

  “Yes, but I didn’t get caught, did I?”

  “I guess you win then. But we’re still in stupid proctored study hall,” Teagan said. “How long?”

  “Five minutes,” Julie said, glancing at the slim gold-colored watch on her wrist.

  Teagan looked at Julie’s books and folders in a neat pile on the floor. The top folder said ARMY on it. She remembered something about Julie’s dad. “What did your dad do?”

  “He was a captain.”

  “In the army?” Teagan said.

  Julie looked at her. She was wearing a gray sweatshirt that said ARMY in black letters. “What does your dad do?”

  Teagan had to think about this. Her dad was a high school principal. He was one, but now? She didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. “He’s a high school principal,” Teagan said.

  “Where?” Julie asked.

  She had to ask where, Teagan thought. “I don’t know. He’s looking for another job.”

  “Where is he?” Julie asked.

  “I don’t know exactly.” It was the truth. “He’ll let me know when he decides where to work,” Teagan said. It was a lie, and she thought it sounded like one. She was embarrassed. She didn’t mean to lie to Julie, and she didn’t want Julie to think she wanted to. She didn’t know what to say, and then, she wasn’t sure what made her say it, she crossed her arms and said, “You know, Navy is way better.”

  “Why do you say that?” Julie asked. Her tone was too sincere.

  Teagan said, “It just is. I mean, obviously. They have boats.”

  Julie had that look on her face that Teagan was getting used to seeing. It was a flash of anger that turned into something else. “No way. Army wins,” she said, with a little toss of her head that flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  “Navy,” Teagan said, folding herself onto the floor.

  “Army is going to kick Navy’s ass.”

  “Yeah? First you have to reach us. We’re out on the ocean. You’ll have to swim,” Teagan said.

  “We’ll just fly our helicopters onto your boat,” Julie said.

  “What are you, Air Force now?”

  “You just wait until you come on land. You won’t feel so pretty then,” Julie said.

  “We might never land,” Teagan said.

  “Then you’ll die on your stupid boat,” Julie said.

  Teagan laughed. “My boat’s not stupid!”

  “We have to go,” Julie said, scooping up her things. The horrible fuzzy-sounding bell buzzed to signal the start of study hall. Julie whispered, “Army.”

  Teagan whispered, “Navy.”

  Red Filly

  The old brick pump house next to Miss Guinevere’s Garden had been converted into the snack kiosk and mail room. Every morning after first period they had a fifteen-minute break, and the girls swarmed the mail room to open their little boxes with keys. The first Monday, Teagan’s had postcards in it from her mother, Charlie, and Grace. She knew her mother had arranged that, getting the mail sent in time so Teagan would have it on her first day. The cards were generic and didn’t say anything interesting, but she recognized the effort.

  It was Friday, and finally she wouldn’t have proctored study hall. She didn’t see the point of study hall on a Friday anyway. Sen had explained to her that sophomores didn’t have a specific study hall and juniors and seniors didn’t have a specific bedtime, and they could sometimes get single rooms. Prefects always had single rooms and their own telephones and mini-fridges. Teagan had begun to see the benefits of being a prefect and had asked Sen how someone became one. Sen had said that prefects were nominated by current prefects. Teagan had raised her eyebrows at Sen, and Sen had laughed and said, “And you have to be a good student, of course.”

  In her little mailbox was a blue piece of paper with some check boxes on it. A check was ticked in the box next to “Day.” On some printed lines at the bottom of the paper was some handwriting that said, “Susanna French, Saturday 11 A.M.” Teagan thought it was a little bit cryptic, but then realized that her mother would be coming to pick her up on Saturday morning. It was only a day visit. Teagan was glad for that. She wasn’t ready to be away yet, and on Sunday there was an orientation meeting for girls who wanted to sign up for riding lessons. She had decided to go. She knew it was an extra cost, but she could already buy anything in the school bookstore, or snacks from the pump-house mail room, or sign up for an off-campus play at the Kennedy Center, and her mother would be billed for it. Teagan thought that that was a very convenient system. She hadn’t actually bought or done anything that cost extra yet, but she figured that if she signed up for the lessons, she and her mother could discuss it after Susanna discovered the bill.

  Someone’s shoulder bumped hers, hard. She turned to see Sarah smiling at her.

  “Ow,” Teagan said.

  “Have you seen Phantom of the Opera?”

  Teagan was glad that Grace had a CD of the cast recording from the musical, or Teagan wouldn’t have known what Sarah was talking about.

  “No. I’ve heard some of the music.”

  “Everyone’s heard the music. There’s a trip to go see it on Saturday. I’ll sign you up with me. Should I sign Jules up? I’m trying to get a bunch of North Dormers to go.”

  “Okay,” Teagan said, still holding her blue piece of paper.


  “See ya at lunch. Sit with me,” Sarah said and walked out of the dark little ex-pump-house mail room snack kiosk.

  “Wait!” Teagan yelled. She twisted the key in her mailbox and ran after Sarah. On the brick walk she grabbed Sarah’s wrist. “My mom’s coming for lunch on Saturday.”

  “Lunch? So what? The bus leaves at four.”

  “Four,” Teagan said.

  “Afternoon,” Sarah said. “Plenty of time. Gotta go. Geometry.”

  The bell rang to end their fifteen-minute break. Teagan ran past Sarah and pushed her. Sarah didn’t have a chance to push back. Teagan was taking the stairs two at a time.

  * * *

  —

  After the school day was over and she was back in her dorm room, Teagan was glad to pull off her khakis and polo shirt (she thought polo shirts looked dumb) and pull on her old, soft jeans and an older, softer T-shirt. Her mother had told her the story, many times, of how, as a little child, Teagan had complained and fussed about wearing the cute outfits her mother bought for her, and she only wanted to wear her older brother’s hand-me-downs, boyish pants and shirts. Susanna sighed when she told the story, as if it still exasperated her, or as if she was remembering something she hadn’t accomplished that had been a goal at one time. Teagan, without really considering it, said to her mother that her brother’s old clothes had been softer. Julie, and Teagan couldn’t understand it, wore her khakis and collared shirts all the time, even on weekends, as if she liked them. Maybe she didn’t bring her other clothes, Teagan thought. Susanna would have liked for Teagan to dress like Julie. Teagan sighed. She went to her closet and pulled out a pair of khaki pants and a collared shirt. She looked at them and put the pants back. She hung the shirt on the outside of the closet door and sat down to do her homework. Her weekend was already full.

  * * *

  —

  “You look so nice, Teagan!” Susanna said.

  Teagan was wearing the collared shirt and sandals. She’d pulled her hair back with a borrowed (without Julie’s knowledge) elastic.

  “Are you letting your hair grow?” Susanna stroked Teagan’s ponytail.

  It was a matter of weeks since she’d seen her mother, but it seemed longer. Susanna looked tired and thin, and she moved in spurts of activity, like she had just remembered to do something. She hugged Teagan, kissed her, looked her over, cupping Teagan’s elbow in her hand, a gesture left over from when Teagan was smaller, and then she was digging in her purse for her keys and glancing at her watch and throwing five questions at a time at her daughter. How did she like it here; how were her classes, her friends; what were her activities (Susanna was thrilled that Teagan had signed up to go see a play); did she like the food, her roommate; should they have invited her roommate to lunch? Another time, Susanna quickly answered herself. Teagan didn’t ask where they were going. They climbed in the car and drove the tree-lined road that traced a creek with steep banks all the way into the sleepy town.

  “You must have gotten up really early this morning,” Teagan said.

  “I stayed here last night.”

  “Last night?”

  “Yes. I got in late. Too late to bother you,” Susanna said.

  Teagan wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Her mother had been close by last night and she didn’t know it. She hadn’t even called Teagan. Teagan had to think about whether this bothered her or not.

  Susanna parked the car on the street and they walked down the quiet sidewalk.

  “My room was nice. Here it is.”

  “Your room?” Teagan said.

  “It’s a B and B over a restaurant. Cute,” Susanna said.

  An antique-looking sign hung from a beam. It had a ridiculous horse on it, dramatically prancing. In engraved letters it said RED FILLY.

  “What do the Bs stand for?”

  “Bed and breakfast,” Susanna said. A bell jingled when she opened the black door.

  Dickensian, Teagan thought, repeating the term her English teacher had used. They’d been studying Oliver Twist.

  They sat on red plaid cushions in a wooden booth and ordered sandwiches. Teagan ordered a ginger ale (old-fashioned, she thought) and Susanna an iced tea, unsweetened, and then she put some artificial sugar in it and two lemon slices, squeezing them first over her fork. Some of the lemon juice sprayed onto Teagan’s face. She wiped the wet off but didn’t mind the sharp lemon smell.

  The food looked and smelled good. Teagan ordered a tuna melt, and it came open-faced with a big pickle and a pile of salty potato chips. She bit the crisp pickle, then she crumbled some potato chips onto her sandwich.

  Susanna smiled weakly. “Your father taught you to do that.”

  “The chips? I made that up myself,” Teagan said.

  Susanna nibbled one of the little pretzels that had come with her BLT.

  The first half of the sandwich was sitting nicely in her stomach, and Teagan was preparing to eat the rest, for the pleasure of it. It didn’t smell like fried food or green beans. The restaurant was quiet.

  “One reason I wanted to see you was to explain that your father and I are officially separated.”

  Teagan looked at the sandwich and knew she wasn’t going to eat it anymore. Couldn’t her mother have waited to talk after they had eaten? She picked up a potato chip and nibbled it.

  “And, he was having an affair. I think you have a right to know,” Susanna said.

  Teagan did not care.

  Kennedy Center

  The bus was the kind that she had only ever seen from the outside, overlarge, with tall cloth-covered seats with headrests and footrests, and, at the back of the bus, a little bathroom that smelled putrid. For the evening, she had voluntarily put on a black and white flower-patterned dress that she wore for all occasions that required a dress. Seeing a play in the city seemed one of those. Sarah wore a red V-neck shirt of some silky material and a pair of black pants. The black pants were a revelation to Teagan. She’d never thought of wearing dress pants before. Her floral dress went down to her ankles and tied behind her waist. She suddenly wondered if it was a little girl’s dress. She’d always worn this style dress, always long, always tied in the back, whenever it was dresses she had to wear. She thought the black and white was more grown-up. At least it wasn’t lavender and pink. Also, she would be with other Hunting Hill girls, and, really, it didn’t matter. There was no one who expected her to dress any particular way, and no one to make an impression on. She stretched out her legs in her cloth seat and felt just fine. She hoped The Phantom of the Opera would be scary and sad, like the music.

  When they got off the bus, Julie held her hand and dragged her along, as if she thought Teagan might get lost. Mr. Adams, the history teacher, was one of their chaperones. He casually handed out the tickets and said, “Everybody here?” without checking a roll. Teagan was glad he didn’t call out roll in the middle of the big hall hung with flags from different countries. She linked arms with Julie and Sarah, and walked with her head back to look up at the flags, while they guided her. They entered another long hall carpeted in bright red. There were sculptures along the hall with no rope or case around them. There was a statue of a man’s head that looked like it was made out of clumps of mud. Teagan didn’t think it was very complimentary. She wouldn’t want her skin to look like that. They got in line at the concession stand and bought overpriced candy and Cokes. They ate what they could before the lights blinked and they needed to find their seats. Teagan liked the musical. It was creepy enough.

  The lights came on at intermission and Sarah prodded them to go so they could have time to explore. They grouped with other Hunting Hill girls and lots of girls said the musical was “good,” and then they all turned and followed someone who knew there was an outdoor balcony. The air was cool and damp. It had rained while they watched their musical. Teagan suddenly thought that she’d been here
before. The balcony was familiar. She had come here with her parents for something. She couldn’t remember what. She’d have to ask. Whatever it was hadn’t stuck in her memory, but the balcony and the wide view of the city, she was sure she’d seen them before. It was more than a balcony—a terrace? It stretched the length of the building and looked to be made entirely of gray marble. There were long shallow puddles on it from the rain. Teagan wanted to run and splash through every puddle.

  Out of another door came a group of boys wearing rumpled button-down shirts and khaki slacks. Some of them had poorly tied neckties hanging crookedly. They were loud and kept looking over at the Hunting Hill girls. Some of the HH girls went near the group and started talking to them.

  “Let’s look over the edge,” Sarah said.

  Teagan took the distraction. They put their hands on the wide, flat stone wall and peered down into darkness and lights.

  “Don’t fall,” said a voice.

  Teagan looked to see two of the boys there.

  “Like we’re that stupid,” said Sarah.

  “Are Hunting Hill girls smart?” said the boy. He was taller than Sarah and had the kind of haircut that was short grown long, and his bangs flopped across his forehead.

  Teagan and Sarah looked at each other. “It depends.” Sarah laughed.

  The other boy was a little bit shorter than Teagan but broad-shouldered. He had very short hair, and he stood squarely. He was looking at Teagan, and she frowned at him.

  “Where are you from?” Sarah said.

  “Roxbury.”

  “Where?” Teagan said.

  “It’s in Massachusetts,” the broad-shouldered boy said.

  “And you came to D.C.? Aren’t there plays in Boston?” Sarah said.