High Hurdles (15 page)

“Don’t let her get so excited,” DJ called out. “Make her stand in one place until she calms down. When you tense up, she gets tense.”

James nodded.

DJ could see him unclench his jaw and his hands on the reins. When he settled down, so did Gray Bar.

“Good. Stay relaxed. Now, easy with your aids on both hands and legs. Use small motions, but be consistent. You can do it.”

James backed Gray Bar into the first side of the V. When they reached the point, they stopped.

“Good. Pat her. Tell her she’s wonderful. You’re doing fine.”

With his left leg pressing against her side and the reins signaling to reverse, Gray Bar swung her rump around the sharp turn and continued backing out the opposite leg of the obstacle. When they stood free, James threw his arms around his horse’s neck.

“We did it! Didn’t tick one pole. First time ever.”

DJ felt elation bubbling up. To see James so happy made her want to leap and dance. “I told you you could do it.” Her bounce in the saddle made Patches sidestep. “Sorry, guy. Okay, James, now you and Gray Bar know what it feels like. Do it again, exactly the same.” When James settled at the beginning again, DJ leaned forward, hands on her pommel. “You watch this, Patches, ’cause you’re going to be doing the same thing pretty soon.”

When DJ finally left for home, afternoon traffic was already increasing the car count on Reliez Valley Road. The sun beat down, hot and dry. For a change, the only breeze was created by her moving bike.

“Hey, DJ.”

DJ hit the brakes. Amy waved and called from her bedroom window. DJ stopped at the bottom of the upward-sloped drive. “You finally better?”

“I’ll be right down.”

A moment later, with black hair flying, Amy leaped down the concrete steps and across the lawn.

“Yuk, you look awful.” DJ sat with her feet on the ground, holding the bike upright, still on the street. Technically, she wasn’t at Amy’s house. It wasn’t as though DJ had called to her. “When you coming back to work?”

“Probably tomorrow. I’m all scabbed over now—”

“You can say that again.” DJ could feel her own smooth skin crawl at the sight of the scabs all over Amy’s face and neck. “You had a bad case, didn’t you? You gonna have scars?”

“I hope not. I didn’t scratch any on my face. Mom gave me gloves to wear at night, and I’m putting Vitamin E on ’em to help stop the scarring. Chicken pox is the pits.”

“Yeah, and you never even have any zits.” DJ fingered the prize she’d discovered on her chin that morning. “Think you can do the pony show tomorrow?”

Amy shook her head. “Sure, and scare all the kiddies away. I asked John. He said he’d go with you. But we owe him big time—and you know what that means.”

“Ugh, paper route some morning when it’s still dark.”

“You got it.” Amy shook her head. “But I didn’t know what else to do.” She lifted her shirt to show her midriff. “How about this for gross?” Spots covered her tanned skin.

“Pretty bad.” DJ put one foot back on a pedal. “I better get going. If I don’t get something to drink, I’ll faint.”

“And I need to get out of the sun. See ya in the morning.” Amy spun away and headed for the house. Her little sister, Becky, waved from the doorway.

DJ waved back and pedaled the block to her house. She laid her bike by the garage and unlocked the front door. The empty smell struck her in the face. Not even the refrigerator hummed in the stillness. She sighed, dumped her backpack on the counter, and went out to the garage to put her bike away. There would be nothing out of place tonight to make her mom mad again. They were going out for dinner—and not for fast food, either.

After chugging a glass of water, she nosed in the refrigerator and pulled out stuff for sandwiches. Dumping it all on the counter, she crossed the room to check the answering machine for messages.

“Sorry, DJ, but an unexpected appointment came up, and I have to meet with the client tonight. Not sure what time I’ll be home, but it’ll probably be late. Let’s plan on dinner out tomorrow night.” DJ stabbed the Erase button.

If only she could erase the hurt as easily.

Chapter
•
3

Wasn’t Gran
ever
coming home?

That night, DJ pretended she was asleep when her mother knocked on the bedroom door. She heard the knob turn and the door open, but she lay on her side under the covers as if zonked to the world.
Serves her right
, she thought when she heard her mother sigh. The door closed with a soft click.

In the morning another note lay on the counter. After reading it, DJ crumbled it up and threw it in the trash. Tonight
she
didn’t have time to go for dinner. And maybe she’d never have time again.

“You look like you lost your best friend, and I’m right here. What’s up?” Amy leaped on her bike to join DJ in the pedal up the hill.

“Nothing.” Eating worms was sounding like a possibility.
Fat worms, skinny worms, guess I’ll go eat worms.
The song ran through her head.

“Hey, you don’t have to bite my head off. I just got out of prison myself.”

“You look funny with that hat on.”

“Pardon me for living. My mother said that if I wanted to work, I had to wear this straw number out in the sun. My Stetson doesn’t have a wide enough brim.” Amy shook her head so the floppy straw brim did what it did best—it flopped, then flew up in the wind.

“You’ll scare the horses.” DJ could feel her good humor coming back. She crested the hill and stopped at the stop sign. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Amy puffed to a halt beside her. “So why play the grouch?”

“My mother couldn’t be bothered to come home in time to take her daughter out to dinner last night like she’d promised, that’s all.” DJ pushed off again. “No big deal.”

The wind felt good on her face when she coasted down the hill to turn into the Academy drive. And now that she’d dumped her gripe on Amy, she could even smile up at a big crow scolding them from a Eucalyptus tree. How come she could be so up one minute and down in the pits the next? Maybe it was PMS. Lindy always blamed half her bad moods on it. DJ coasted to a stop and leaned her bike against the barn in its usual place. Another question to ask Gran—if and when she ever came home.

DJ hurried through her chores at the Academy. Fast brushing and slinging dirty shavings in record time was becoming a habit. She couldn’t work Patches until after her class of beginners. “Okay, let’s hustle.” DJ went down the line, hurrying her girls along.

“DJ, when we going up in Briones again?” Angie, a chronic asthma sufferer, stopped brushing her horse to ask.

“I cleared Friday with Bridget. We’ll head out right after our regular class. I told everyone last week.”

“I wasn’t here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have called.” DJ turned to the girl’s pregnant mother standing off to the side. “Can Angie come?”

“That’ll be fine. Then she can wash her horse in the afternoon to be ready for the show.” Angie’s mother laid a hand on her big belly. “This baby’s due anytime, so we’re just going day by day. My neighbor says she’ll bring this daughter of mine down to ride if I’m in the hospital.”

“Great. Okay, kids, let’s get to work.” DJ trotted ahead of them to slide the gate open. “Walk to the right please.”

All three students grinned at her as they rode into the arena and did as she asked.

“Okay, backs straight but relaxed. Come on, Krissie, keep those reins even. Neck rein to the left—good. Now back to the right.” The class proceeded as usual, only this time they were gearing up for a show. DJ treated them just as a judge would, ordering a walk, jog, back to a walk, lope, and reverse and repeat. When they were finished, they lined up in the middle. She walked down the line, inspecting the horses and riders, trying to keep a straight face.

She had them practice picking up their ribbons and leaving the arena. At the end of the hour, she motioned them into the shade of the roof. “You did good. I’m really proud of you. Angie, you gotta keep him on his toes. He’ll go to sleep on you if you let him. Sam, remember, when you come up too close on another horse, turn a circle into the ring and come around again so you have plenty of room. Now, all of you, those saddles and bridles need to be so clean they shine. Angie, your horse is due for new shoes.”

“Again?” Angie leaned on her saddle horn. “There goes my birthday money.”

“The farrier will be here tomorrow. You want me to put your name on the list?”

“I guess.” Her sigh could be heard clear into San Francisco.

“Okay, let’s get ’em put away. Remember to bring your lunches with you on Friday, packed in saddlebags if you have them, and in smash-proof containers.”

“We know.”

“Just reminding you. And, Angie, make sure you bring your beesting kit.” DJ held the gate open and let them file out. Their mothers were already waiting.

Training Patches took up the rest of the morning. She had to fly home to get ready for the pony party. It wouldn’t do to go in her grungy clothes. And besides, she needed a shower. Even she could tell the BO wasn’t coming from the horses.

When she and Amy’s older brother, John, trotted up the street to one of the monstrous new houses at the top of hill on the west side of Reliez Valley Road, they were nearly late. The subdivision was so new, all the trees in the yards still looked like sticks. But the sodded lawns were green and kids played in the street. Some of them even ran after the pony until DJ told them to stop.

Balloons bobbed above the mailbox at the birthday house.

“Oh, I was beginning to worry you weren’t coming,” the young mother said when she answered the door. “Do you think you could bring the pony into the backyard? We have more room there.”

“Sure. You have a side gate?” An image of Bandit traipsing through the garage or the house flitted through DJ’s mind.

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry.”

DJ could tell the woman was flustered. If she was high-strung, what would the kids be like?

Like crazy is what they were. When one little boy bit him, John glared at DJ.

“Just help him down,” DJ muttered under her breath. A little girl tugged at DJ’s shirt.

“I wanna ride the pony.” The whine would have cut logs.

“You’ll get a turn in a minute.”

“I wanna ride
now
!” The whine turned to a shriek.

The hostess came running over. “Is she hurt? What’s the matter, dearest?”

“She’s not taking turns too well.” DJ kept the smile on her face in spite of her clenched teeth. If she had her way, the brat would never ride Bandit.

“Did you get that last picture?”

John glared at her. “Of course.” He had red Kool-Aid stains on the front of his white T-shirt, thanks to a little boy who had refused to give up his drink. How come the mothers seemed to ignore the entertainment, sitting under a tree and visiting as if their kids belonged to someone else?

“Are
all
the parties like this?” John muttered through clenched teeth.

DJ shook her head, fighting to keep a smile on her face.

“Ow-w-ie! He bit me!” The ear-shattering scream from the vicinity of her left knee made DJ’s heart jump. She looked down. A tow-headed boy was running in place and screaming in megadecibels that increased in direct proportion to the speed of his feet. DJ wished she could clap her hands over her ears, but she had to see what was wrong.

Bandit pulled back on the reins, a clump of grass dangling from the side of his mouth. His eyes rolled white, and his ears smashed flat against his head.

DJ didn’t know which to work with—the boy or the pony.

“He bit me!” The kid clutched one hand with the other.

The hostess ran out of the house. Another woman came to help her. Both pestered the howling boy with a thousand questions, all the while glaring at DJ, John, and poor Bandit.

DJ couldn’t see any blood. Since the others were there to care for the child, she opted to attend to Bandit. John lifted the current rider down from the saddle and set her on the ground. Her face screwed up, ready to wail, in sympathy for the screamer.

It took all of DJ’s will to keep calm. “He gave Bandit some grass and his finger got in the way.” Her tone sang comfort to the horse while her words filled John in on what had happened.

“You shouldn’t bring a horse that bites to a children’s party.” One of the women now held the sniffling child on her hip.

“I told them not to feed the pony.” Again DJ kept her voice calm. Inside, she wanted to scream.
It’s not Bandit’s fault. It’s your fault! Keep a watch on your bratty kid
. This was the boy who had dumped his drink on John’s shirt. A real charmer if ever there was one. At that moment, DJ was glad she’d never had younger brothers and sisters—what if they’d turned out like these kids?

She rubbed Bandit’s ears and waited for things to calm down.

“Bad pony.” The boy scrubbed his cheeks with grubby hands and kicked his mother to let him down.

DJ caught a look from John that made her bite her lip.

“Who’s next for a pony ride?” She pointed to a little girl in jeans and a sideways Giants baseball cap. “You haven’t ridden yet. How about if we swap our Western hat for yours while you ride?”

“No.” The little girl clutched her hat.

John started to say something, but instead just lifted the child into the saddle. “You won’t have a Western picture like everyone else,” he warned her.

“I don’t care. Giddy-up.” She slapped her legs against the saddle.

DJ led her off around the yard. This kid was a corker. But from the look on her face, she loved to ride. She leaned forward and stroked Bandit’s neck, not bothering to hang on to the saddle horn like the others. “Good pony. What’s his name?”

“Bandit.”

“Nice Bandit. I’m gonna have a pony someday.”

DJ nodded. “I hope you do.” Now this was a neat kid. Not a brat—she just knew what she wanted. DJ gave her an extra turn around the yard.

“Okay, that’s all for today.” DJ checked to make sure all the children had had their turns.

John opened the back of the camera and handed the pictures to the hostess. She gave him an envelope and a frosty “thank you.”

DJ made sure they had all their gear and led Bandit toward the gate. Once out on the street, John checked the envelope.

“Just wanted to make sure she paid us. What a pain!”

“That has to be the worst party we’ve had, worse even than the one where the kids tracked horse manure onto the woman’s brand-new white carpet. That’s why we bring the pooper scooper now.” Just then Bandit lifted his tail and plopped some green offerings onto the asphalt.

John glared at DJ. She held the reins while he untied the metal scooper and did his chore, dumping the manure under a bush when they came to one. “Just don’t ask me to help with these parties again—ever.” His words matched the narrow line of his mouth clenched over clamped teeth.

“They could at least have offered us something to drink.”

By the time DJ and John told Amy all about the pony party, she lay on the floor kicking her heels and hooting.

“John, it’s never been
that
bad. You guys are making this up, right?”

John glared at her and nudged her with his toe.

“Hee-hee, I love it.” Amy sat upright and clasped her arms around her bent knees. “Bandit bit him.” This time her giggles infected DJ much like a germ, and when she described the bratty boy dumping his drink down John’s shirt, she, too, collapsed against the back of the sofa.

“Th-thanks for he-helping.” She glanced at the scowl on John’s face and grabbed her middle. This was the kind of laughter that couldn’t be stopped. Every time she and Amy looked at each other or John, they laughed till they hiccuped. “I’m going to wet my pants if we don’t q-q-quit.”

John fought to keep the frown on his face. He gave it his best effort. But the grin broke through. It started with a snort. Then a hoot. He leaped to his feet. “You two can waste your time carrying on like this, but I have better things to do.”

“B-b-better th-things to . . .” The two were off again. DJ made a fast charge down the hall. It’s hard to run with your legs crossed.

When she came out of the bathroom, Mrs. Yamamoto had brought homemade lemonade and cookies into the family room. “Here, you giggling gerties, you need something to cool you off. John, I hear you really earned your money today.” Her smile set DJ and Amy off again. John took his glass and a handful of cookies and left the room.

“You two better never ask me to help again,” he called back. “You’re totally nuts to do those parties.” He stomped up the stairs to his room.

“You two.” Mrs. Yamamoto shook her head when she left the room.

DJ could hear the younger kids playing outside on the swing set. She looked at her watch. She should get home. She wasn’t supposed to be here anyway—but she just
had
to tell Amy about the party.

“See ya tomorrow.” She headed for the door. “You remember we’re taking my beginning class up to Briones on Friday?”

“Yep. Mom said I could go.” Amy followed DJ all the way to the sidewalk. “When do you get off restriction?”

“Just in time for school. Big deal, huh?” DJ swung her leg over her bike. “I never thought being grounded could be so bad.” She shook her head. “Sure wish you could come home with me. I hate it there all by myself.”