Heads Up, Horses!

by Sibley Miller

  Eyeing her happy foal, Thelma rolled her eyes once more.

  “Oh, well,” she blustered. “If Andy wants to play this silly game, I suppose I’ll go along with it. For now.”

  “Hooray!” Kona cried. Grinning, she flew over to Brisa.

  “Like you said, Brisa, moms can’t resist it when their babies want something!” she whispered.

  “Especially when their babies are as cute as Annnnndy,” Brisa replied.

  “Uh-huh,” Kona said absentmindedly. “The important thing is, now we get to play soccer! This is my first victory of the day!”

  Brisa frowned in confusion.

  “Victory?” she said. “I don’t get it. Is the point of this whole soccer thing to play or to win?”

  “Do you even have to ask?” Kona whinnied. “Both!”

  She began doing practice kicks in the air with all four legs.

  “OKAY, EVERYONE,” she shouted, “LET’S PLAY BALL!”

  CHAPTER 3

  A Mismatched (Soccer) Match

  The big horses tipped over the water trough and hay manger to make them into goals, while Brisa and Sirocco dragged a stick across the paddock to draw their “soccer field’s” center line. Then Kona clopped her front hooves together.

  “Perfect!” she said. “There’s only one thing missing.”

  “What’s that?” Sumatra asked, perplexed.

  “Well,” Kona responded, “Leanna and her friends had a grown-up working with them. Someone who knew all the rules and kept score. You know—a referee.”

  “Okay,” Benny said with a shrug. “So we need a referee.”

  “But who should it be?” Kona said, forcing her face into an innocent expression. “Are any of you interested?”

  Sirocco snorted.

  “Oh, please,” he said, waving a hoof at Kona. “We all know you’re going to be the referee. You know the rules of the game the best. And you want to be the referee the most. And besides, you’re too bossy not to be the referee.”

  “I’m not bossy!” Kona protested.

  She saw the big and little horses exchange glances and suppress giggles. Well, except for Thelma—who laughed right out loud.

  Kona decided to ignore this slight. She didn’t want to give Thelma any reason to call off the game. Instead, she said primly, “Well, it is true that I paid the most attention to Leanna’s soccer game. So, Sirocco, if you were nominating me to be referee, I accept.”

  Kona smiled at both teams generously.

  This time, they all laughed out loud. But Benny also plodded to their soccer field’s center line and said, “Okay, referee, tell me which side of the field belongs to the Bigs and we can get this show on the road.”

  “Um, that one!” Kona said, as she pointed to the south side of the paddock. “The hay manger is your goal and the water trough is ours. Now let’s flip a coin to see who gets the first kick.…”

  “We’re horses,” Thelma interrupted. “We don’t have any money, nor do we have thumbs for flipping.”

  “Oh … you’re right,” Kona responded, feeling embarrassed.

  “Oh, forget it,” Benny huffed. “You Wind Dancers can have the kickoff. What does it matter anyway?”

  “What does it matter?!” Kona sputtered. “The team with the kickoff gets to charge for the goal first! The other team can only defend itself. Our team would have a very good chance of scoring the first goal!”

  “We’ll see about that!” Benny taunted.

  Kona trembled with excitement as she lined herself up behind the ball.

  The big horses asked for this, she thought. I just hope they’re not too upset when the Wind Dancer team makes the first goal!

  Kona gave the ball the mightiest kick she had! It sailed up into the air and landed smack dab—on Fluff’s hoof!

  “Ooh!” Fluff said in surprise. The ball bounced off her hoof and flew in the opposite direction!

  The ball went so high and so fast and so far that it left the Wind Dancers in its dust! All they could do was chase it as it flew—straight into the water trough!

  The big horses gaped as the ball bounced around the trough. Finally, Fluff stammered, “I … I scored!”

  “Goooooooaaaaaaalllll!” Benny neighed, rearing back on his hind legs.

  Thelma looked at Kona.

  “That makes the score one-zippo,” she said with a grin. “I hope you’re not too upset that we made the first goal.”

  Kona was grateful for the violet-black hair that hid the flush in her face.

  “Upset?” she scoffed. “Not at all.”

  In her head she added, I’m not upset. Oh, no—I’m too enraged, baffled, and embarrassed to be UPSET!

  But now the Wind Dancers had the ball again. Sirocco kicked it to Sumatra, but Thelma knocked the ball away from the little Wind Dancer with one casual tap of her giant hoof.

  “Hey!” Sumatra complained.

  Whinnying, Kona dove for the ball, but before she could make her kick, Benny nudged her out of the way with his enormous nose! He bopped the ball with his knee. The next thing Kona knew—

  “Goooooooaaaaaaalllll!”

  This time it was Fluff who yelled out in triumph as the ball plopped neatly into the water trough.

  “Whoops!” Brisa said with a giggle. “I think Benny, Fluff, and Thelma are outbigging us!”

  Kona glowered.

  “They may be big, but we’re tall,” Kona muttered to her teammates.

  Sumatra and Sirocco glanced at each other—in all their four-inch-tall glory.

  “Um, how do you figure that?” Sumatra wondered.

  “Like this!” Kona declared. Kicking the ball out of the water trough, she juggled it from her knee to her head to her hoof, keeping the ball aloft. As she dribbled the ball, she flew up, up, up in the air.

  She was so high up that Thelma couldn’t reach the ball even when she reared up on her hind legs!

  “S-i-r-o-c-c-o!” Kona shouted, as she got ready to pass the ball to the colt. Sirocco zipped upward to field it.

  “Hey!” Benny complained, while Andy again tried to launch himself into the air. “Get down here!”

  “Sure!” Kona agreed as Sirocco passed the ball back to her. “I just have to do one thing first.”

  With that, she head-butted the ball out of the sky—and straight into the big horses’ hay-manger goal!

  “Whoo, hooooooo!” Kona celebrated.

  Until three voices cried out, “No fair!”

  Those voices belonged to Thelma, Benny—and Brisa!

  “Brisa!” Kona said in shock. “What’s not fair about helping our team win?”

  “Well, the big horses can’t fly,” Brisa said sweetly. “It just doesn’t seem sporting to play from way up in the air.”

  “But they’re so much bigger than us—you said it yourself,” Kona blustered. “That’s not fair either, is it?”

  “You’re right,” Fluff chimed in. “We’re too big for you to beat, and you’re too high-flying for us to beat.”

  “Unless—” Kona began.

  “Unless what?” Sumatra asked.

  “Unless we evened things up by mixing them up,” Kona replied. “Two big horses and two Wind Dancers to a team.”

  “Ooh, yes!” Fluff cried. “I get to play on a Wind Dancers team!”

  “As referee, I’ll choose the teams,” Kona said bossily. “On my team, I’ll take Sirocco, Benny, and Thelma.”

  As in, the fastest horse (Sirocco), the strongest horse (Benny), and the most stubborn horse (Thelma)! Kona thought, trying to conceal her smug smile.

  “I don’t think so!” Thelma protested. “Nobody’s putting me on a different team from my foal!”

  B-but … Kona thought, Andy can’t even say soccer, much less play it! With a wobbly little foal on my team, I’ll never win!

  But, as Thelma licked Andy’s nose and Brisa tickled his ears, Kona knew she couldn’t say this out loud.

  “Okay, fine!” she huffed. “My team will have Sirocco, T
helma, and Andy. Brisa, Sumatra, Benny, and Fluff can play on the other team.”

  “Done,” Thelma agreed.

  Andy bucked and whinnied in delight.

  Sumatra wasn’t as happy.

  “So you’re really doing it?” Sumatra asked sadly. “You’re breaking up the Wind Dancers’ team? Our family?!”

  Kona felt a twinge of guilt. But one glance at the red ball still in the hay manger after her triumphant goal brushed that feeling away.

  “C’mon, filly,” she responded scoffily to Sumatra. “Remember, this is just a game! Just because we’re splitting up here doesn’t mean we’re not a team everywhere else.”

  “Not everything’s a competition, Kona,” Sumatra said, as her magic-ribbon halo drooped.

  “But this game is!” Kona said, her eyes going bright as she eyed the red ball again. “Don’t you want to get going?”

  Sunatra looked at Brisa and Sirocco, and rolled her eyes.

  “There’s no stopping her,” she whispered. “I guess the only thing we can do—”

  “—is play ball on our new teams!” Brisa finished.

  CHAPTER 4

  A Rigorous Referee

  Tweet, tweet, tweeeeet!

  When that shrill noise sounded almost halfway through the new game, Benny stumbled over the pass he’d just received. He tripped so hard, in fact, that one of the bell boots he was wearing (to protect himself during play) flew off! The gelding spun and stared at Kona, who was holding a blade of grass between her lips and blowing through it with all her might.

  “Why are you blowing that horrible thing?!” Benny bellowed.

  “You’re offsides,” Kona said primly.

  “Off what?” Benny asked incredulously. “What does that mean?”

  “When a pass is made to you,” Kona explained, “you can’t be closer to the goal than any of our players.”

  “But,” Fluff said simply, “we didn’t know that, Kona.”

  “It’s a basic rule of soccer!” Kona said. “Everybody knows that!”

  “And we would have, too,” Sumatra said with a glower, “if you had just told us—”

  Tweeet!

  “My team gets a free kick,” Kona said sweetly. “I’ll take it.”

  Before Benny could say, “What’s a free kick?!” Kona had swooped down, grabbed the ball, placed it at a sweet spot right near the hay manger, and kicked it before any of the other players could react.

  “Gooooaaaaaalllll!” Kona shouted, flying a triumphant lap around the paddock. “My third one of the game! Too bad you guys have only scored once!”

  “Hello, up there!” Benny called irritably. “Do you want to play or do you want to stage a victory parade?”

  “Oh, calm down, it’s just a game,” Kona said, giggling triumphantly. She flew down to the field so Benny’s team could kick off. But no sooner had Brisa passed the ball to Fluff than—

  Tweeeet!

  “What now?” Brisa demanded.

  “Out of bounds,” Kona said, pointing at Fluff, who’d been dribbling the ball near the paddock fence.

  “What bounds?” Fluff said, looking around in confusion.

  “There are boundaries behind the goals and along the sides,” Kona said, a bit smugly. “Once you’ve touched the fence, you’re out of bounds.”

  “But, but—”

  Tweeeeet!

  “You’re still out of bounds,” Kona said.

  Kona took a deep breath and tweeted some more—until Andy trotted up, plucked the grass blade from between Kona’s lips, and ate it!

  All the horses—except Kona—burst out laughing.

  “That’s the best call all day,” Thelma said, giving Andy a nose nuzzle while he nipped playfully at the pretty blue workout wraps warming her forelegs.

  Trying to maintain her dignity, Kona declared, “Clearly, some players are hungry. As referee, I say it’s—lunchtime! But remember, we’ve still got a half game left. And let’s also not forget that the score is three to one!”

  “Oh, I’m sure you won’t forget,” Sumatra sniped, as the tiny horses flew and the big ones trotted to a shady part of the paddock. “After all, your team is winning.”

  “Cheer up,” Sirocco said to Sumatra. “Why care about losing a game when you’re gaining food?”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Kona said as she unwrapped the picnic lunch that she’d prepared that morning. While the big horses munched on hay nearby, Kona doled out food to the Wind Dancers.

  “Wow, Kona,” Sirocco said as he dug into his lunch. “This is awesome! Honey on oatmeal bread, apple fritters, and carrot pudding!”

  “Enjoy,” Kona said breezily, taking her own bite of carrot pudding.

  That’s when Brisa nudged Sumatra.

  “That’s funny,” she said, frowning at her own food. “I think Kona forgot to give me carrot pudding. And look, I’ve only got a slice of bread—no honey. And did Sirocco say apple fritters? I didn’t get any apple fritters.”

  “Me neither!” Sumatra said, gaping at her own paltry picnic.

  “Kona must have made a mistake,” Brisa said sweetly. She turned to the violet horse and said, “Oh, Kon—”

  But just then, Kona used her nose to roll another apple fritter over to Sirocco.

  “Eat up!” she told him. “You need your strength to help us win the game!”

  Brisa and Sumatra gaped at each other.

  “It wasn’t a mistake,” Brisa whispered.

  “She’s trying to starve us so we’ll lose the soccer game!” Sumatra whispered back.

  Sumatra turned to Kona, her nostrils flaring, but before she could say anything, Kona was swallowing her last bite and fluttering into the air.

  “I think I’ll go give Andy some coaching,” she said to Sirocco. “The little guy doesn’t know a corner kick from a throw-in!”

  As Kona flew off, Brisa said to Sumatra, “Kona knows all the rules. And she gets all the best food. And she gets extra cuddle time with cute little Andy! This is no fair!”

  “You’re right!” Sirocco agreed unhappily, between big bites of apple fritter.

  “What are you complaining about?” Sumatra asked bitterly. “You’ve had more than enough to eat!”

  “Yeah,” Sirocco said. “But Kona used to give me warm fuzzies, too.”

  “She was like a mom to all of us,” Brisa agreed. “Until the game got to her.”

  “Guess what?” Sumatra announced suddenly to Brisa and Sirocco. “Kona’s not the only one with tricks up her wings!”

  “What do you mean?” Brisa asked.

  “Wait and see,” Sumatra whispered with a grin. Then she zipped out of the paddock.

  When Sumatra returned a while later, she wasn’t alone. Huffing and puffing along the ground beneath her was a roly-poly squirrel with a kind, buck-toothed grin!

  “Gray!” Kona, Sirocco, and Brisa cried.

  Gray was the nice squirrel who’d given the Wind Dancers their carved-out apple tree house on their first day in the dandelion meadow.

  “Did you come to watch a victory?” Kona asked the squirrel proudly.

  “Actually,” Gray replied, “I’m your new referee!”

  “Referee?!” Kona gasped. “But … but I’m the referee!”

  “And you must be tired!” Sumatra said, innocently blinking her long green lashes at Kona. “It’s awfully hard to play soccer and call the shots at the same time. It’s so hard, in fact, that you only seem to see the mistakes our team makes. And never the ones on your side of the soccer field!”

  Kona blushed.

  “Oh, fine!” she blurted. “The squirrel stays. Let’s just get started on the second half, already.”

  “Okay, horses,” Gray said with a grin, “the score stands at three to one. I want a clean game. No tail-swatting, no kicking—”

  “But Gray,” Kona protested, “it’s soccer!”

  “Oh,” Gray said, blinking. “So kicking’s okay, then?”

  “How can you referee
,” Kona complained, “if you don’t even know how to play the game?”

  “Ah, don’t worry about it!” Gray said, thumping his chest proudly with both paws. “I’ll pick it up as I go. Besides, Sumatra told me there’s a thing you say about soccer: ‘It’s just a game.’ Right?”

  “It’s just a game with very specific rules,” Kona grumbled. She flew to join her teammates, positioning herself just beside Andy’s flip-floppy left ear.

  “Just remember all the coaching I gave you during lunch,” she whispered to the foal. “Always pass the ball to me, and we’ll do great!”

  Andy reared back on his hind legs, flicking playfully at Kona with his front hooves.

  “Right! That’s what you need to do—kick to me!” Kona cried, thinking herself a very talented coach. “You’ve got it!”

  “The only thing that colt’s got,” Benny teased from the other side of the field, “is the urge to fly.”

  “We’ll show you,” Kona retorted.

  “Alright,” Gray admonished. “No trash talk between teams. Play ball!”

  Fluff snagged the ball and punted it at Brisa. But Brisa was busy admiring her pretty mane and missed the pass. The ball sailed across the field and landed right between the forelegs of—Andy!

  “Here we go!” Kona cried, zipping toward the foal. “Up here, Andy. Pass me the ball. Pass it!!!!”

  But Andy forgot all about Kona’s coaching and began bopping the ball around with his nose.

  “Andy!!!!” Kona cried desperately.

  “Oh, please, I’ll pass you the ball if you’ll be quiet about it,” Thelma grumbled. She cantered up to her foal and kicked the ball away from him.

  Of course, she didn’t exactly watch where she was kicking, and the ball sailed straight to Sumatra, who began dribbling down the field for a goal.

  “Noooooo!” Kona cried, zipping after her. Kona chased Sumatra so intently, in fact, that she might have bumped her nose into Sumatra’s flank. Sumatra lost control of the ball. But before Kona could scoop it up, Gray yelled out.

  “Foul!” the squirrel called from down the field. Crunch, crunch.