Eager Star (9 page)

I wheeled my bike into the rack, then spotted Summer and Grant's herd on the steps, blocking traffic so kids had to squeeze around them to get inside.

Great!
I'd have to walk right by the herd. What if Grant had already told everybody about my backward ride on Nickers? Summer would love that!

Laughter erupted from their group, no doubt at my expense.

I climbed the steps, pretending not to see or hear them.
See no evil. Hear no ev—

“Winnie!” Grant shouted.

I glanced behind me, as if there might be another Winnie on the steps.

“Come here!” Grant motioned me into the herd.

Swallowing what felt like sandpaper, I joined them, wishing I'd spent more than two seconds on my hair. I wore jeans; they wore shorts. I needed a new top so I wouldn't have to repeat in the same week. Summer probably didn't repeat her clothes the whole year.

“How's Towaco?” Hawk moved over so I could stand next to her.

“He's good.”
Loosen up, Winnie girl! Just a herd of horses. You like horses.

Hawk's shorts matched her peacock shirt. “Grant told us you are training his horse.”

I looked at Grant, amazed. He'd told them
that?
He hadn't told them about the backward ride? “Uh-huh.”
Great conversation, Winnie. You really belong in this herd.

Summer laughed. She looked to the other members of the herd, the real members. “Grant and I have to race in a barrel race our dads dreamed up. Not like I want to! I don't even like riding Western. Daddy's making me practice, practice, practice! He's driving me crazy!”

That's a short putt.

Grant cracked his knuckles.

“So, Summer . . .” Sal reached back to redo her red ponytail. “How's it coming with the sleepover plans?”

“My mother ordered in so much food! We'll gain 10 pounds!” Summer tugged at the tiny black belt at her waist.

“Bet you wish
you
were coming tonight, Grant!” cooed a girl with pixie short, blonde hair. I didn't recognize her from any of my classes. I
knew
she didn't recognize me.

“I'll pass.” Grant still flashed his perfect smile, but it looked forced—all lips, no eyes.

Hawk secretly elbowed me. “Summer, have you invited Winnie yet?”

I elbowed Hawk back. I was kind of surprised she'd say it, because Summer Spidell would sooner invite the plague or pimples than me.

Startled, Summer looked at Grant, who simply stared back as if waiting for the answer.

“From what I hear,” Grant said, “girls go to Summer's parties so they won't get gossiped about. Better go, Winnie.”

Me? At the popular girls' party? Some of the girls have horses. I could talk about horse gentling. . . .
Then I came to my senses. No way would Summer make me part of her herd!

I shrugged.

Summer giggled in a girlish way I couldn't have pulled off if I took classes in it. “Grant Baines!” She sent a fake smile in my general direction without taking her eyes off Grant. “Of course you'll come, Winnie!”

Hawk elbowed me. “Great! We'll go together.”

I could feel the sappy grin on my face. But I couldn't do anything about it. The last time I'd been invited to a sleepover, I still wore cowboy pj's and slept with a stuffed horse. And now here I was, partying with the popular herd! It had all happened just like with horses in the wild. I'd made friends with the herd leader, and I'd been accepted into the herd. Lizzy would freak! Even Dad would be impressed.

Grant glanced at his watch. “I've gotta go over my notes before class. See you.”

His loyal herd watched as he trotted up the steps. The blonde and two girls I'd seen in the cafeteria headed inside, too, leaving Sal, Summer, Hawk, and me.

The minute Grant disappeared into the building, Summer snapped her fingers and turned to me. “Oh no!” She tilted her head to the side and stuck out pouty lips. “I forgot. My mother laid down the law. I can't invite more than nine girls. And I've already invited . . . let me see here . . .” She counted on her fingers. “. . . nine. Sorry, Winifred. By the way, I was so relieved
you
'
d
be training Grant's horse. I hate to lose.”

She started to go, then laughed and called back, “Hey! Speaking of
losing
, don't
lose
Grant's horse!”

I should have known. Nothing—not even Grant—could make Summer invite me!

“But you said—,” Hawk started.

“Forget it!” I snapped, mad at myself for getting sucked in. Summer and I are two different breeds. Summer would never feel what I was feeling, the kick in the stomach when you're thrown out of the herd. Never. She got invited to everything.

Just once I wish
she'd
feel left out. I wish
she
could be the one not invited. I should have thrown a party and not invited her! “I'm too busy anyway.”

“I suppose you are!” Summer agreed. “You must have tons to do just to get up to speed on barrel racing.”

That does it! I'm sick of letting her make me feel bad! Well it's her turn, just this once, to feel bad.

I managed a sugary smile. “The race . . . and my overnight deal.” I glanced at my watch, just the right touch of disinterest.

Hawk didn't miss a beat. “You're right, Winnie! I can't believe how much we still have to do! And only a week away!” Hawk was good. She was really coming through for me. Giving it a real date made the whole thing sound more real.

Sal looked hurt. “Hey, I'm the one who said your memory's tight! What's with not inviting me?”

“Of course you're invited, Sal,” Hawk said.

Wait a minute. There's nothing to invite her to.

“Good!” Sal grinned. “My little brother is in your sister's class. She brought in cookies he won't stop talking about. Is she baking for your party?”

Party? This has gone far enough. Say something, Winnie!

“You can't invite Sal and not invite me,” Summer whined.

Ha! There it is, what I wanted—Summer feeling left out. Time to admit it was just a joke.
“Come on, Winnie,” Hawk urged.

Summer gave me her puppy-dog look. Where was Barker, the dog expert, when I needed him?

“Summer . . .” I looked at her—the perfect clothes and perfect hair. How could I tell her I had nothing going on, no party, nothing? “Sure.”

The bell rang, and Sal and Summer ran in. Hawk and I trailed after them.

“Did we just invite them to my house?” I asked, feeling sick to my stomach. I should have known not to try to get even. Lizzy's told me a hundred times that revenge is God's department, not mine. “Hawk, what am I going to do now?”

“You are going to have the most popular girls in seventh over!” Hawk whispered. “I can help you.”

“Help me what? Get a new house?”

I got to English just as Ms. Brumby was shutting the door.

Sliding into my seat, I made a mental list: clean house, ask Lizzy to plan food, move to Siberia.

While Grant and Ms. Brumby kept up a discussion on “The Raven,” I pulled out my personal journal and wrote:

Old mares dominate a pack, much like English teachers rule classrooms. These old mares were probably rejected from herds when they were young.

A shadow passed over my notebook, and I closed it fast. Ms. Brumby stood in front of my desk and stared down at my journal. When she didn't speak, I smiled up at her, hoping she wouldn't ask me a question about what they'd been discussing. I didn't have a clue.

But instead of tricking me with a question or yelling at me for not paying attention, she thanked me. “Thank you, Winifred. I nearly forgot. Class, pass your journals to the end of your row.”

I was so relieved, I dropped my pen.

Barker plopped half a dozen notebooks on my desk. I tossed mine to the bottom of the pile and passed them on. Close call!

I couldn't wait for school to end so I could get in a great first workout with Eager Star. I answered six e-mails at Pat's Pets, then raced home and told Lizzy about what I'd gotten myself into.

“Winnie! Sweet! I'll make pizza and brownies! And isn't God just the greatest!
Thanks, God, for giving Winnie friends already!
And sprinkles on the brownies!” She prayed so much like Mom it hurt.

Walking to the pasture I prayed,
Sorry it took me this long to say thanks, God. So thanks. It would be a miracle if we really pulled this party thing off. And if you let Star win that race, well, I'd like that a lot. That's all.

Nickers greeted me in the paddock. I put my cheek against hers and inhaled her earthy horse smell as if she were oxygen. “Can't ride you now. Got to get Star in championship shape.”

Towaco galloped up, and Nickers shot back her ears. But it was a bluff. The two horses had been getting along.

Eager Star let me catch him and lead him in to be tacked up. Usually I ride bareback. I love being close enough to the horse to sense what he's feeling before he moves on it. But Grant would be racing Summer in Western tack. So that's how I'd train him. Every practice had to count.

I led Star to the cross-ties, two straps coming from opposite walls of the stallway. They hook onto a horse's halter for easier grooming. Star stood for me as I reached for the cross-ties. But the minute I hooked his halter, he snorted and pulled back.

“Easy!”

But he backed up, jerking his head against the ties.

“Whoa!” I reached up and tried to unhook him, wishing I weren't so short. Finally, I got it. “What's wrong with you? You can't be this nervous, Star!”

Untied, Star stood still while I saddled him. But in the paddock, it took me three tries to mount because he wouldn't stand still. I laid the reins on Star's neck. He lunged as if he'd been snakebit.

Star responded to voice cues, trotting when I called, “Trot.” But his wild trot threatened to break into a canter. I had to pull on his reins more than I liked. Instead of walking like an easygoing Quarter Horse, he pranced like an American Saddlebred. I couldn't get his gallop down to a canter, much less to the lope I was going for. I had to correct him at every step.

“You
have
to get your leads,” I pleaded.

In a canter, horses reach farther forward with the front and hind legs on one side—left legs in a left lead when cantering counterclockwise, right when going clockwise. Wrong leads make bumpy rides. A cutting horse can't even get around a barrel if he throws the wrong lead.

I worked Star until dark. He missed more leads than he got.

As I cooled him down, I had to wonder if Spider Spidell was right. Maybe Mr. Baines did buy a lemon.

I felt bad for Eager Star. If I couldn't get him ready for that race, Mr. Baines would sell him. I felt just as bad for me. Summer and her dad wouldn't let any of us forget my failure. What if nobody ever trusted me as a horse gentler again?