No Time for Horses (2 page)

“Not for long,” Mrs. Weaver told her and
returned to the front of the room.

The rest of the morning went well too. At
lunch, I was the second one to the table that Robin nabbed for us.
She usually bought her lunch and then we swapped around for the
stuff we liked best. Today, she had the chef salad, a hamburger,
fries, and cheesecake.

Since I didn’t dare gain any more weight, I
traded off my peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich for the
salad. I’d just put light ranch dressing on the lettuce when my
boyfriend, Jack arrived. He sat down next to me. He couldn’t do
more than smile at me because Public Displays of Affection, or PDA,
meant more detentions and possibly Saturday School. Both of us had
better things to do.

Tall, black haired with dark brown eyes, Jack
was totally sweet. And I wasn’t just saying that because he let me
ride his Thoroughbred racehorse that majorly kicked butt at barrel
racing. Robin was terrified of Nitroglycerin, but I liked the
gelding. He could go from a standstill to a dead run in less than a
heartbeat. Sometimes when the two of us did our speed demon
routine, I felt like I could race away from all my problems.

Jack rested his arm along the back of my
chair, carefully not touching me. “So, do you ladies need a ride to
Shamrock tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I said, before Robin could say that
her boyfriend would take us to the local barn.

Robin and I had a riding lesson tomorrow,
like every Wednesday. Afterward, she would hang out and wait for me
while I did my internship hours, part of my sophomore project. I
was training, or rather re-training, a young Arabian with a nasty
attitude.

Aladdin was a six-year-old rescue. Rocky
McElroy, the owner of Shamrock Stable, only wanted his buddy,
Summertime, a former show horse, but she had to take both of the
Arabians to get the owner to donate the one she really liked. It’d
been two years since Aladdin came to the barn. He’d learned to wear
a halter, to lead, to longe, to wear a bit, to carry a saddle, to
be clipped and hoof-trimmed, but he still had a long way to go.
Rocky said that horses had memories like elephants and it was why
Aladdin remembered all the abuse from the first four years of his
life before he arrived at her barn.

Since my goal was to be a natural horse
trainer, he was a great choice for me to practice everything I’d
seen in videos and at clinics. Of course, Aladdin thought our
training sessions were a good time for him to bite and kick me. I’d
improved when it came to avoiding the kicks, and I’d started
wearing several layers of shirts so he nipped my clothes, not me.
It wasn’t like I could carry a crop or even a longe whip. He took
those as a challenge and then tried to really attack me. He
actually liked girls better than he did guys, so that made his
antics even more scary.

I was supposed to have him ready to ride next
spring, but my personal goal was way earlier than that. Rocky said
she couldn’t keep feeding him if he didn’t work. Since he probably
wouldn’t find another sucker to house him for the rest of his life,
another thirty-plus years, he’d undoubtedly get a one-way ticket to
a slaughter house in Canada. I hated to see that happen to any
horse, even one who seemed to think I was a chew toy.

Robin’s boyfriend Bill showed up at our
table. The conversation changed to basketball, even though we were
just finishing up the football season. The guys normally played
both sports, but Jack was still on the bench until his cracked ribs
finished healing. Robin’s horse had totally stomped him a couple
weeks ago when Jack tried to hurry through chores. And basketball
practices had heated up since football was almost over.

It still meant Jack couldn’t play this
Friday, and the coach was threatening Robin and her horse with dire
deeds if he didn’t leave Jack alone. Neither team would be taking
things easy, any more than the cheerleaders would. Senior varsity
cheered for football and boys’ basketball while the freshman squad
rooted for girls’ basketball.

Robin always griped because nobody supported
the cross-country or track teams. Of course this year, Mr.
Schuesser was dumb enough to tell her that it wasn’t like the
squads would win the district or anyone would be going to the state
competitions. Maybe that was part of the reason, she had kicked
butt all season and Lincoln High was tops in their division. Her
coach had already talked to mine, and we’d be going with them to
state to cheer on the cross-country team at competition.

I hadn’t brought the weekend trip in January
up to Mom yet. I didn’t want to hear that I couldn’t go because she
needed me to look after my half-brothers and sisters. Robin nudged
me under the table. “What?”

“Eat something or lunch will be over.” Robin
drank some of her milk then put down the carton. “So, have the
cheerleaders started organizing the holiday food drive activities
yet? Do you have the boxes ready to go to the classrooms? You’re a
double winner, so you have twice as much work as the rest of us.
The student body officers are in charge of publicity. The
cross-country team is ready to deliver the boxes and issue the
first challenge to the other teams during tomorrow’s
announcements.”

“Oh my Gawd! I totally forgot.”

“What?” Jack said. “Bill and I picked up the
boxes at the moving company last week, and they’re in a storage
closet in the art room. Did you space on the cheerleaders
decorating them?”

“No,” I said. “We’re doing it this afternoon
as soon as we finish practice. I forgot to remind my mom this
morning, and she expects me to pick up the kids.”

Chapter Two

Tuesday,
November 12th, 2:15 p.m.

When I walked out of my study skills class,
what Lincoln High considered an hour for homework, at the end of
the day, I pulled out my cell again. Good thing I’d paid for more
minutes so I could use it. No message from Mom. Great. Had she even
received the call at lunch? I tried the home number. No answer. She
didn’t pick up on her cell phone either. Neither did my dad on his.
That meant more messages, although I didn’t know when they’d get
them.

I was pretty sure that my dad deleted
anything from me and never bothered to listen anymore. He’d stopped
calling me back months ago. Now, I only heard from him when he
wanted me to cover for him because he was going to be late to get
the younger set. Okay, to be honest, he was my stepdad and his kids
were only my half-brothers and half-sisters, but it hadn’t been a
big deal until he walked out on my birthday last May.

He was the only father I’d had for ten years,
so it cut deep when he stopped acting like a dad and caring about
me. He even told his lawyer that I wasn’t his kid so he shouldn’t
be paying child support for me. When I pointed out that meant I
didn’t have to show up for his weekend visitations with the rugrats
again, he flipped out. He wanted me there to babysit as if I didn’t
get enough of that at Mom’s house. The counselor we all had to see
kept telling me to cut my parents some slack. This was a transition
time for them too and things would improve. Yeah, right! They
hadn’t so far, and I was beginning to think they never would.

I headed for the gym and cheer practice. I’d
try contacting my parents one more time before I called the daycare
and told the owner that I’d be late to get the kids. As long as I
contacted her before the elementary school got out, it should be
okay. She could have one of her staff pick up Kevin, Cathy, and the
twins from kindergarten. Of course, it’d cost Dad more at the end
of the month and he’d freak, but what did he expect when he refused
to answer his cell phone? What if it was a real emergency?

Ms. Walker waved at me from where she stood
in a cluster of cheerleaders. “Hurry and change, Vicky. We want to
get started early so you girls have time to decorate boxes for the
food drive.”

While I was in the locker room, I tried each
parent once more. And once again, they didn’t pick up so I called
the daycare. The owner griped when I said I’d be late. She still
agreed to collect my sibs at the elementary school when she got the
other little darlings who spent their afternoons with her.

Cheer practice went really well. First, we
walked through our routines. We had to change the steps so they
worked in the gym for basketball rather than the football field.
Then, we shifted into what I thought of as high gear. We did all
the dances and stunts at normal speed. Ms. Walker stopped us a few
times and had us start over so everyone was in step. When we
finished up, she was happy and told us that we’d nail all of it in
time for the pep assembly next week. Of course, once we got the
proverbial carrot, then we got the stick. She had to remind us not
to blow the routines at this Friday’s football game.

As soon as I grabbed a bottle of water and my
backpack, I headed for the Commons to do the boxes. I wasn’t the
first one in our lunchroom. When I arrived, Robin was in the art
room storage closet, dragging out boxes to the open area between
most of the folded up tables. Gwen and Porter had rolls of holiday
paper, tons of ribbon, and spools of tape waiting on the remaining
tables. The rest of the cheerleaders split up to help. Before I
could jump in, the editor of the school paper, Adam Chambers, waved
at me.

He was majorly annoying, but I couldn’t
ignore him. If I did, he’d come up with some nasty sound bite in
his next article. “Hey, Adam. What’s up? Are you here to help with
the food drive?”

“Actually, it’s more for the publicity and
the article in the paper.” Small, skinny with red hair, Adam tried
to look tough in his black jeans and leather jacket. He never quite
managed to pull it off. “So, give me some facts about how many
meals we’re going to provide this year.” He held up his camera.
“I’ll be getting photos too. I wish you girls were in your cheer
uniforms.” He eyed Cedar and Kanisha, the two Native girls who
continued to haul boxes to the center of the cafeteria. “Or track
suits.”

“Sorry,” I said, although I didn’t mean it.
“We don’t wear uniforms for practice, but we will be in them
tomorrow to kick off the food drive competition. All of the clubs,
teams, and homeroom classes will compete to see who can bring in
the most nonperishable food items. We have prizes from area
businesses for the winners.”

Adam took a picture of the boxes. “Like
what?”

I waved Tom McNeely, the senior who was
student body prez over. “Hey, would you give Adam the rundown on
the prizes? I know we have coffee cards and gift certificates from
Shamrock Stable. But, what else is there?”

“I have the whole list right here.” Tom
opened his backpack and pulled out a binder. “Our student reps
really deserve a ‘shout-out’ in your article, Adam. They must have
hit up every business in Marysville for prizes.”

I left him talking to the reporter and went
to help shift boxes around. Tom had obviously dressed for picture
time. He wore a light blue shirt tucked into black slacks and even
had on a striped tie. His blond hair wasn’t as long as some of the
guys. It barely touched his collar.

“What’s the plan?” Porter asked me.

“I’ll show you.” I picked up a roll of red
paper covered with Santas and spread it out on an empty table.
Then, I brought over a box. “You bring the paper up and wrap it
like you’re doing a present. Remember to leave the top open. Once
it’s finished, tape on a sign. Each room should have a club box and
a class box.”

“I have the list of who is sponsoring each
club or team,” Gwen told me. “Mrs. Weaver says we’re having an
assembly tomorrow morning to boost morale and get everyone
motivated.”

I nodded. “Yeah and the winners are actually
the local food bank and people who would otherwise go hungry. Like
our cheer coach says, ‘We don’t want to lecture the students to get
them to help out.’”

“Got that right,” Porter agreed. “This way,
the race is on!”

We had sixty boxes to decorate and a lot of
volunteers to do the work. For the next forty minutes, I circulated
around the room, helping where I was needed. Olivia and I were
taping bright green paper splashed with Christmas kittens onto a
box when Dr. Danvers appeared.

“Vicky, your mom is in the counseling
office.” Concern filled her face, and she wound a strand of curly
reddish-brown hair around one finger. “You need to go.”

“What?” I glanced around the cafeteria at the
other students, before I looked back at the counselor again. “We’re
nowhere near finished. I called and left messages with both my
parents. The daycare owner was picking up the kids at the
elementary school today.”

“It didn’t work.” The school shrink bent and
picked up my backpack. “Believe me. You want to go right now. I
asked them to wait in the office, but I don’t know how much
patience your mom has.”

“Not much,” I told the woman. This was Dr.
Danvers’ first job, and she tried hard to take care of everyone.
Sometimes, I thought she needed to follow her own advice of ‘owning
what’s yours to own,’ instead of taking responsibility for
everything. I smiled at her. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t stress over this,” Olivia told me.
Native, African-American, and Asian, she was absolutely gorgeous
and could be a total witch at times. “We’ve got it handled. See you
tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I took my backpack from Dr. Danvers
and carried it over to Robin. “My mom’s here. I have to go. Will
you put this in my locker for me?”

“You know it.”

I started toward the main entrance, but I was
too late. Mom stalked toward me, trailed by the four elementary
kids. All of them had sunshine blond hair and sky blue eyes like
their father, but Mom and I both had dark brown hair. She had brown
eyes, not hazel like mine. She wore sweatpants, a red sweater, and
running shoes, not her casino uniform, so she didn’t have to work
more than one shift today. That didn’t surprise me. She’d already
worked most of the Veteran’s holiday weekend. I’d handled
everything from Saturday evening when Dad brought back the kids
through Sunday and all day Monday.