McKenna, Ready to Fly Page 4

  When Josie set off on her horse, too, I searched the bleachers to see if Elizabeth was there. She was—two rows up from the bottom. She waved at me, a bag of popcorn in her other hand.

  I was just sitting down beside Elizabeth when Cowboy Bob strolled past. “Girls, do you have time to help me with something?” he asked.

  Elizabeth hesitated. “I would,” she said, “but I promised my brother I’d watch him ride.”

  I jumped up. “I’ll help!” I said.

  Cowboy Bob’s face, a road map of soft lines, stretched into a wide smile. “Thatta girl!” he said. He pointed to just outside the fence of the arena. Beside a wheelbarrow stood a manure fork with a red plastic basket. “Do you know what those are used for?” he asked.

  “I think so,” I said, nodding.

  I heard Elizabeth giggle behind me from the bleachers.

  “Good!” said Cowboy Bob. Then he pointed across the arena toward the horse stalls. “For safety’s sake, I want you to start working in the empty stalls,” he said. “Halley’s back there now. Later, you can work in the arena. You can stay pretty busy around here just gathering apples.”

  “Apples?” I asked. I didn’t see any apples.

  Cowboy Bob winked at me. “Sounds better than manure, don’t you think?” he asked. “Either way, it’s what comes with horses. No way around it.”

  I wrinkled up my face.

  “Are ya still willing to help out?” Cowboy Bob asked.

  “Yup,” I said, without hesitating. “Ready to work.”

  Cowboy Bob smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This won’t be the only job here for you. But everyone pitches in, and it’s important to keep this place tidy—both for horses and for riders.”

  Cowboy Bob showed me around the stalls and where to empty the wheelbarrow when I was finished.

  Cleaning up after horses is a big jump from cleaning up after hamsters, but honestly, I didn’t mind it all that much. It felt good to do something useful. And the riding center definitely wouldn’t be very pleasant if the work didn’t get done.

  I wheeled the barrow into the barn and went from one empty stall to another, scooping up “apples.” As I passed the sliding door, I looked for Josie in the arena. There she was! I waved as Josie rode by. When she saw my wheelbarrow full of horse apples, she giggled and gave me a thumbs-up.

  When the wheelbarrow was full—and heavy—I pushed it outside through a side door and emptied it onto a large mound. As I wheeled back in past the stalls, I noticed one horse tied up in the far stall. Halley was talking in the horse’s ear.

  I parked my wheelbarrow and walked closer. The horse stood in his stall, cross-tied—ropes clipped to each side of his halter—under a stall plate that read “Dusty.” He had a coat of dapple gray and soft, gentle eyes, and he nickered at me as I approached. Then he bobbed his head up and down. Was he saying hello? I felt an instant bond with Dusty, as if we’d been friends a long time.

  “Why isn’t Dusty out in the arena?” I asked Halley.

  “Oh, he’s not ready,” she explained. “He still needs work before he’s spook-proof. Cowboy Bob’s been working with him on that.”

  “Spook-proof?” someone asked from behind me. I jumped and whirled around. It was Josie, who was maneuvering her chair down the aisle between stalls.

  “Sheesh, Josie!” I said, trying to catch my breath. “You spooked me.”

  “Sorry!” she said. “I got done with riding and wanted to see what you were doing back here. So what were you saying about ‘spook-proof’?”

  “Hi, Josie,” Halley said warmly. “I was just telling McKenna that ‘spook-proof’ means a horse won’t flinch at anything. We prefer to have only steady, confident horses here. But Dusty is a recent donation. We’re still working with him.”

  I backed away.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Halley said. “He’s sweet. You can pet him.”

  I reached out and stroked Dusty’s velvety gray and pink muzzle. Josie scratched the underside of his neck, and he closed his eyes in contentment. “But how does Cowboy Bob make horses spook-proof?” I asked.

  “Well, let’s see if I can show you,” said Halley. “Better step back.”

  I left Dusty and stepped a few feet down the aisle. Josie wheeled her chair backward to join me.

  “First, I’ll take off Dusty’s cross-ties so that he doesn’t feel trapped,” said Halley, unclipping the ropes from Dusty’s halter. Then she clipped on a lead rope and, with her other hand, slowly reached for a broomstick with a white plastic bag attached to its end.

  “Lots of horses are scared to death of these bags,” she said as she lifted the bag and slowly inched it through the air toward Dusty. His eyes widened until the whites showed. Then he started dancing backward, trying to get away from the bag.

  Halley held the broomstick still until Dusty’s stance relaxed a little. “That’s a brave boy,” she cooed. “He’s scared of plastic bags, but Cowboy Bob and I will work with him over and over again until he realizes plastic bags won’t hurt him. Eventually, he’ll think they’re as scary as a fly.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “It’s the same with gymnastics. Things I used to be terrified to try now seem easy to me.”

  “Me, too!” said Josie. “I mean, not with gymnastics, but with horseback riding. I can’t believe I was ever afraid to ride sweet, gentle Pumpkin.”

  Halley smiled. “I hope Dusty will become spook-proof just as quickly as you girls have,” she said, cross-tying Dusty again.

  “I hope so, too,” I murmured, giving Dusty a gentle kiss on the nose.

  As Josie and I left the stables, I stopped by the bleachers so that I could say good-bye to Elizabeth. She was talking with a girl I didn’t know, so I waited for a moment. I leaned against the bleachers and did a few calf-strengthening exercises, just as Willow had taught me. I rolled up on the balls of my feet—hold, two, three—and down again. I needed to use every free moment to rebuild strength.

  “Hey, McKenna!”

  I looked up and saw Elizabeth stepping down the bleachers toward me.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Working out,” I answered with a grin.

  “You and Toulane,” said Elizabeth, laughing good-naturedly. “You’re two peas in a pod, y’know that? Working out is all she thinks about, too.”

  My smile faded, and I didn’t answer. I guess I’d rather be compared with Sierra, who works hard but knows how to keep it fun at gymnastics. Or Josie, who gives her all at the riding center each week. But Toulane? I’d never felt more distant from her.

  Mr. Wu strolled between our desks on Wednesday, smiling as if he’d just announced a class trip to SeaWorld. “A research project!” he said again. “It’ll be great. I want you each to pick a partner to work with—quietly—and decide on a subject you can both get excited about.”

  “Partners?” Elizabeth whispered, leaning across the aisle toward my desk. With our new seating arrangement, Elizabeth now sat across from me and Toulane sat behind me.

  At the same moment, I felt a tap-tap on my shoulder. I twisted around in my seat to face Toulane.

  “Hey, let’s be partners,” she blurted. “We can research gymnastics.”

  “Oh, Elizabeth just asked me,” I said. “Sorry.”

  Instantly I could see the hurt rise in Toulane’s eyes.

  “Um, maybe Mr. Wu will let us work as a group?” I said to Elizabeth.

  But by the time I got the words out, Toulane had already left her desk and was heading across the room to find another partner. Her face wore the same steely expression that I’d seen so often lately. Somehow, I’d managed to mess things up with her—again.

  Later that day, I met Josie in the library. I tried to work on my homework, but I was too bothered by Toulane’s storminess to concentrate.

  Halfway through an assignment, I lifted my head from my book and groaned.

  “What?” Josie asked.

  “I d
on’t know what’s wrong with her,” I said.

  Josie pulled lip gloss from her pocket. “Who?” she asked.

  “Toulane,” I said. “She’s so hard to deal with lately.”

  Josie shrugged. “She’s probably stressed out about making the competitive team,” she said. “Same as you.”

  I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach. “Don’t remind me,” I said. “Still, I wish she wouldn’t take it out on me.”

  With her elbow on the arm of her wheelchair, Josie leaned her chin into her open palm. “Maybe she needs to think about something completely different,” she said. “When I’m stressed, helping someone else takes my mind off me.”

  I cracked up. “Is that why you tutor me?” I asked her. “To bring your stress down?”

  Josie smiled. “That’s part of it,” she joked.

  I hoped Toulane would decide to join our volunteer day at the riding center. She’d have a chance to help someone else and take her mind off her worries. If nothing else, it might take her mind off being crabby with me—at least for a few hours.

  Finally the day came! Our Level 4 group drove together in the Shooting Star club van to Hearts and Horses.

  Shannon met us at the door. “Welcome, girls!” she said warmly. Then she gave our group a tour of the center. When we stopped by the arena, Shannon paused by the fence. “McKenna, would you like to introduce some of our riders?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I agreed, glancing around the arena to make sure I knew most of the riders.

  “Leaders!” Shannon called out. “Please swing by the meet-and-greet area so that our guests can meet today’s riders.”

  Instead of stepping up toward the fence, some of my teammates shrank back. Toulane hovered a few feet behind me, her arms crossed.

  I remembered feeling nervous, too, my first time at the riding center. I hoped I could find a way to help my teammates feel more relaxed.

  When Dora rode toward us in her pink helmet, I said, “This is Dora, who rides with her teddy bear.”

  Sierra whispered, “Oh, she’s adorable!” She waved at Dora, but as Dora rode closer and her lopsided face became more visible, Sierra looked away. When I’d first seen Dora close-up, I felt uncomfortable, too—and a little afraid and sad. Today, all I noticed was her cheery smile.

  When Dora saw my face, her smile widened. She sat up straight and said, “Pur-ble in, in, in!”

  “Wait, what did she say?” Sierra asked.

  “Gray OUT!” Dora shouted as she rode past us.

  Sierra’s jaw dropped. “Did you teach her our gymnastics trick?” she asked, punching me playfully in the arm. Coach Isabelle caught my eye, too, and grinned.

  I nodded, feeling pretty proud of myself—and of Dora.

  Just then, wide-eyed Julius rode Oreo near our end of the arena. I waved as he passed.

  “That’s Julius—Elizabeth Onishi’s brother,” I said to Toulane, who was still standing behind me.

  “Seriously? Her brother?” Toulane asked, taking a step forward.

  “Yup,” I said, turning back toward the arena.

  When Josie rode by, I called out, “Hey, Josie! How’s it going?”

  “Great!” Josie called back. “Pumpkin is the best horse ever.” She gripped the saddle horn with one hand and patted the horse’s neck with the other.

  Toulane nudged me from behind and said, “Hey, I thought Josie used a wheelchair.”

  “She does,” I said. “And she’s learning to ride, too.”

  Toulane didn’t say anything else, but as Josie and Pumpkin did a full lap around the arena, Toulane’s eyes followed them every step of the way.

  When the riding session was over, my teammates and I followed Shannon to the kitchen. A half-dozen young riders were waiting for us. I was glad to see that Josie was there, too.

  To my surprise, Shannon asked, “Josie and McKenna, would you two help organize groups? You’ll want to mix up your teammates with our riders so that everyone can get to know one another.”

  “Of course!” Josie said, jumping right in.

  I was pleased, too. First, we asked everyone to count off by fours, which left us with four groups of four. When everyone was in groups, Josie and I thought up a get-to-know-you game. Josie suggested that the riders tell their names and the names of the horses they loved to ride.

  Then I said, “And everyone from Shooting Star, tell what is your favorite gymnastics event—vault, bars, beam, or floor.”

  After introductions, Shannon explained our baking tasks for the afternoon. “We like to have treats on hand for our riders to offer to their horses as a thank-you after riding,” she said.

  “What about treats for people?” Josie piped up, grinning.

  “And we’ll make cookies for people,” Shannon said with a smile. “Of course!”

  Some of us mixed up cookie dough, while others mixed up horse-treat dough. We cracked eggs and measured flour, salt, oats, honey, and molasses. We made chocolate-chip cookies by dropping spoonfuls of dough onto baking sheets. And we rolled out horse-treat dough with rolling pins and cut out round treats with cookie cutters.

  Sierra found a stepstool for her kitchenmate, a girl whose legs were too short for her to work at the counter. “Thank you!” the girl exclaimed.

  Before long, the kitchen was filled with the delicious smells of cookies and molasses horse treats baking. We cooled and tasted the cookies as they came out of the oven, batch after batch.

  All of my teammates seemed to be having fun, except Toulane. She had been assigned to work with Josie, Julius, and me. Instead, Toulane busied herself sweeping the floor and watching the cookies bake in the oven, her back turned toward our group.

  Toulane was such a leader in the gym, but outside of gymnastics, she didn’t seem nearly as sure of herself. Working with new people—and new and different situations—was one of Josie’s strengths, but it sure didn’t seem to be one of Toulane’s.

  Josie must have noticed, too. “Hey, Toulane,” she called in a friendly voice. “Want to help us mix up another batch of horse treats?”

  I looked up from rolling out dough, grateful that Josie was trying to help Toulane feel comfortable. But I wondered what Toulane would do.

  To my relief, she nodded and turned back around to face our group.

  Julius held a wooden spoon in his hand. He held it out toward Toulane and mumbled, “Me Julius.”

  Toulane shrank back, her brow wrinkled. “What?” she said. “I can’t understand him.”

  “He says his name is Julius,” Josie said gently.

  I couldn’t blame Toulane for shrinking away. My first time at the riding center, all I saw were the riders’ disabilities—the ways they were different from me. But now I was learning to see all the ways we were the same. Julius’s smile told me that he was having just as much fun making cookies and meeting friends as I was. I wished Toulane could see what I saw.

  “Come on, Toulane,” I said, reaching for her hand. “We need your help measuring.”

  Toulane shook her head. She stepped away and motioned for me to follow her. Then she whispered, “I’m just not good at this. At being here.”

  “I know how you feel,” I said, shrugging. “The first time I came here, I felt the same way. It takes time, that’s all.”

  “What if I say or do something wrong?”Toulane whispered back, her eyes wide with worry.

  I wished Josie could answer Toulane’s question. She’d know what to say. I was afraid I would blow it. Then I thought about all the times Toulane and I had faced something new together at the gym.

  “Toulane,” I said quietly, “you know when you’re about to try a new gymnastics move? You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

  Toulane narrowed her eyes at me, but then nodded.

  I whispered, “So how do you get through that?”

  Toulane thought about it for a moment. “I’d take a few deep breaths,” she finally said. “Blue sky in…or maybe purple.” She gave me a half-smile.

/>   I giggled. “So can you shake off your stress here in the same way?” I asked.

  A glimmer of understanding crossed Toulane’s face. “Maybe,” she said quietly. She drew in a deep breath slowly, and then exhaled slowly. She nodded, and I knew she was ready to try.

  “You’ll do fine,” I assured her.

  Toulane raised her chin, pressed back her shoulders, and stepped closer to Julius. “Hi, Julius,” she said, sounding much more friendly and confident. “I’m Toulane. Um, want to work together?”

  “I working hard!” he said and began wildly stirring the wooden spoon around and around in the empty bowl. Clankety, clank, clank!

  “Want to help measure flour?” Toulane asked.

  “I helping!” Julius said, but he kept stirring.

  Toulane cleared her throat. “Okay. Um, I’ll measure flour,” she said. “You, um, just keep stirring.” She measured flour and added it to the bowl.

  “I good at stirring,” he said.

  “Yes, you’re very good,” Toulane agreed, forcing a quick smile. “Now, I’ll crack a few eggs. I’ll add those and you can stir.”

  When Toulane glanced at me over Julius’s curly head, I gave her a thumbs-up. I admired her for reaching out to Julius, despite feeling uncomfortable.

  I turned back to rolling out dough. Nearby, Sierra was singing as she worked with her group. For just a moment, all was right with the world.

  Crack! I turned. Julius must have stirred a little too hard, because he was staring at his wooden spoon, now on the floor. His lower lip protruded. He looked at the spoon, and then he starting crying.

  I waited a second to see if Toulane would help Julius, but she looked bewildered by his tears. She inched backward toward Coach Isabelle. I hustled over, picked up the spoon, and showed it to Julius.

  “I good stirrer,” he said, a fleck of butter dangling from a dark curl. He reached for the spoon.

  “Yes,” I said, patting his shoulder. “But I need to wash this first—or get a new one,” I told him.