Friendly Foal (10 page)

I ran the rest of the way home and got there exactly two minutes after 11. First I checked the barn. Sal wasn't there.

Then I ran inside. “Lizzy! Is Sal here?”

Lizzy met me in the hall. Larry the Lizard was curled up on her shoulder. “No.” Then she added, “Neither is Madeline.”

I thought about telling Lizzy about seeing Nathan and Geri, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. My sister has been the most popular girl in every class she's been in, including all the schools in the
I
states—Illinois, Indiana, and Iowa—where we didn't stay long. She's not popular in the same way Summer Spidell is. Most girls in middle school want to be like Summer. But I'm not sure how many of them actually
like
her. Lizzy, on the other hand, everybody likes.

Still, even though there were a couple dozen girls Lizzy could have invited over, it had to hurt that her
best
friend had tossed her aside for a boy.

I raced back to the barn. The wind blew snow from the trees and moved white swirls of it from the ground, making it look like a snowstorm. Catman calls it a “recycled blizzard.”

I said hi to Nickers and Friendly and eased into Amigo's stall.

The little Falabella shuffled deeper into the corner.

I kept my distance and watched him. Mom taught me that horses need their space. She had pretended there was a large circle around every horse, space that belonged to him. “Wait for the horse to let you in,” she'd said. “Inviting us in is a leap of faith.”

Staying out of Amigo's space, I tried to imagine what he was feeling. I didn't know if he'd traveled from Argentina by boat or by plane. I just knew he'd come a long way without any friends. And so far he hadn't found any here.

“I'm here when you're ready, Amigo,” I said, wishing I'd paid attention in Iowa when we had six weeks of Spanish. But I knew Amigo wouldn't care what language I spoke. He wouldn't even care that my voice sounds like I have laryngitis.

Amigo's head drooped lower.

“You know, Amigo, Sal's not such a bad person once you get to know her. Not that
I
really know her. She has a lot of friends in middle school. You wouldn't like it there. It's hard to break into those herds. They stampede through the halls, and any newcomer who tries to join a herd gets kicked out.”

I watched Amigo for signs of softening. One ear twitched, and I took it as an invitation to take one step inside his circle.

“I know you've had it tough, boy. No wonder you're scared.”

Both ears twitched.

I kept talking—about the foal, about Nickers, even about Lizzy and Geri.

Finally I got a clear go-ahead. Amigo craned his neck around to see me. His ears pointed toward me, then flicked side to side.

“Don't mind if I do,” I said, walking slowly until I reached him. It was weird to reach
down,
instead of
up,
to pet him.

His back twitched.

I kept scratching him on the withers, where most horses love it. Amigo didn't seem to, though.

I searched for his secret spot, the part of him that yearned to be scratched. I hoped it wasn't his hind leg, like the horse in the e-mail. I didn't quite trust Amigo not to kick me yet.

Not until I moved in front of him did I find it. When I scratched a spot above his chest, he stretched out his head and begged for more.

“You like that, don't you, Amigo? See? You can trust me.”

Someone clomped into the barn. I hadn't heard a car drive up, but I heard one take off—fast. Probably Gram Cracker's van.

I started to yell for Sal but thought better of it. I didn't want to scare Amigo just when he was getting used to me.

“Well, where is she?” Instead of Sal, Summer Spidell thundered down the stallway.

Just what I needed.

“Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you too, Summer,” I called in a fake, cheery voice, as I kept scratching Amigo. His brown eyes closed to half-mast.

“I'm not kidding!” she shouted, frowning into the stall at us. “Where is Sal?”

Summer was wearing a long palomino-colored coat with a matching fuzzy hat and scarf. Her long blonde hair curled below her shoulders. “I'm in a hurry, Winifred.”

Summer Spidell is about the only person who calls me that, and she only does it to make me mad. It works every time, but I try not to show it.

“So? Where is she?” she repeated louder, in case
all
of Ashland hadn't heard her. “Sal told me she was coming over here.”

“Well, I'm not hiding her, if that's what you're thinking.”

I heard a car and hoped it was someone coming for Summer. The car stopped outside the barn, and a door slammed.

“Sal!” Summer screamed, running from the barn as if it were on fire.

I heard both of them squeal the way popular girls do when they see each other in school on Monday mornings or after a break.

“Humans,” I whispered to Amigo, not letting up on his scratching. His eyes closed all the way. I wondered if he could shut out the world like Mason Edison. And which one could teach me that.

Sal and Summer kind of flowed back into the barn together, ignoring me. So what else was new? At school they're in the same popular group. So they sit together in classes, at lunch, everywhere. But Summer had been even more clingy to Sal than usual, since Hawk had been gone.

Summer and Sal kept talking so loudly that Amigo and I couldn't help overhearing.

“Grant said Brian was going to call you and apologize. Did he?” Summer asked, like the whole world depended on the answer.

“He called,” Sal answered. “I'm still hacked off at him for standing me up, though. That's the third time this month. I mean, if somebody says they'll come over or call, they should do it.”

I nearly choked, then cleared my throat to cover it.
From Sal's mouth to Sal's ears!

“He's just a guy,” Summer observed. “So you're all made up, though, right? The four of us can go to Hawk's party together?”

Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe Hawk would hang out with me more on New Year's Eve if Sal and Summer were with guys. I had to admit that the more I thought about Hawk's New Year's Eve party, the more I looked forward to it. It wouldn't just be the first New Year's Eve party for me. It would be the first
party
. I'd been to birthday parties when we lived in Wyoming and to family-and-friend stuff. But never a
real
party like this.

“Are those new jeans?” Summer asked, sounding as if she didn't approve.

“Nope. These are
old
jeans, with
new
fat in them. What I don't get is how a
one
-pound box of candy can make me gain
five
pounds.”

Seriously, Sal's almost as skinny as Madeline. It was hard to believe she worried about gaining weight. Summer was psycho about weight gain. Maybe it had rubbed off on Sal. I wondered if Sal liked the extra attention she was getting from Summer, or if she was as eager to get Hawk home as I was.

“I'll help you lose that extra weight,” Summer offered. “What are friends for? We'll get it off before school starts. In the meantime don't wear those jeans when you're with Brian.”

I thought about interrupting them before I puked, but the feeling passed.

“I can't wait to buy that gold sweater I told you about,” Summer cooed. “It will look
so
great on me!”

“I thought Grant was getting it for you for Christmas,” Sal said.

“He didn't get the hint. He got me a
scarf.”
Summer made it sound like he'd gotten her earthworms. “My grandmother got me a scarf. Richard got me a scarf. Aunt Lisa got me a scarf. If I get one more cashmere scarf, I'm going to strangle myself with it!”

Note to self: Save up for a cashmere scarf for Summer.

I couldn't take it anymore. “Amigo and I are ready for you, Sal!”

“Yeah. In a minute, Winnie,” Sal called back.

“Your horse is already calmer,” I said, leaving the stall to join Summer and Sal. “I'll show you how to imprint him. I don't think he's going to be much of a problem.”

“Sal!” Summer squealed. “You
promised
we could go to the mall together. I
have
to get that sweater I'm in love with! They only had two left in my size!”

“We just need about two hours, Sal,” I said, hoping Summer wouldn't want to wait in the barn. “Maybe you could meet Summer there when we're done.”

“I didn't know this would take so long,” Sal said. She glanced at Amigo, who had gone back to stand in the corner of the stall. “Are you sure you need me, Winnie?”

Summer took Sal's arm. “You don't need her, do you, Winnie?”

“Her horse needs her!” I answered, fighting the urge to grab Sal's other arm and have a tug-of-war with Summer.
I
would have won.

Outside a horn honked and wheels spun on ice as a black Mustang came tearing down our street.

“Richard's here,” Summer announced.

Richard Spidell is Summer's brother. He's a junior in high school, and just about every girl except me thinks he's the most handsome guy in school.

“Richard?” Sal said, her hand going to the stair-step gold earrings that climbed both of her ears. Obviously Sal shared the majority opinion about Summer's brother.

“He's driving us to the mall,” Summer said, making
ma-all
sound like two syllables that should be set to music.

“That's so tight!” Sal squealed.

“But your horse!” I protested, knowing Amigo and I didn't stand a chance against Richard and the
ma-all
.

Sal shrugged and let herself be led away by Summer. “Don't worry about the midget, Winnie!” she called back. “Gram says we're probably sending it back anyway.”

“No!” I shouted. “Sal, come back tomorrow! After church! You'll see how sweet Amigo is!”

“Okay!” she hollered back.

“I mean it, Sal!”

I trudged from the barn to the house. The sun had given up, turning the outside world dark gray.

The second I opened the front door, I was struck with the aroma of fresh-baked cookies. “Lizzy, what did you bake?” I shouted, pulling off my boots. It was pretty amazing how Lizzy's kitchen concoctions could sweep in and push out at least some of the rottenness left by Summer.

Lizzy called out from the kitchen, “I didn't bake anything. Catman did it!”

I hurried to the kitchen to find Catman in Dad's white barbeque apron. Striped bellbottoms and a tie-dyed T-shirt showed through. Lizzy's flowered oven mittens covered his hands as he pulled a sheet of cookies from the oven. He set it on top of the stove and looked like he'd just won a horse show.

“Outta sight!” Catman exclaimed, staring at the cookie lumps that might have been cat-shaped.