High Hurdles (22 page)

“Great.”

“There’s something for you up on your desk,” Gran said.

DJ gave her a questioning look, but Gran only smiled. The stairs could have been Mt. Everest. DJ groaned when she made it to the top. When she finally dragged her feet down the long hall and into her room, she dumped her bag by the bed and collapsed across it. If only she didn’t have to move for ten years.

When she roused herself enough to sit up, her gaze fell on the paper on her desk. In Gran’s most beautiful calligraphy, the words leaped off the parchment paper. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

DJ read the verse through a second time, then a third. So this was her verse to overcome nail-biting, smart-mouthing, and everything else that bugged her. She let the paper float back to the desk. This couldn’t really work—could it? Would Gran make up something like this?

Sure, their pastor talked about the power of God’s Word, but did God
really
care about Darla Jean Randall chewing her nails? As DJ undressed, she thought about it. If Jesus was really in her heart, and she knew He was, then He cared about every little bit of her. So much He even knew how many hairs were left on her head. Even after she’d left some in the hairbrush that morning.

“You must be awfully smart, God,” she muttered as she drew back the covers. “But if you care so much, I’ll give it a try. By the way, thanks for taking care of us today. I forget to tell you thank-you a lot. Thanks for Joe—he makes Gran so happy. And please help me in school tomorrow. I haven’t told anyone else, but I am kind of scared. First day with new teachers and all that stuff is scary.” She flipped over on her side and reread the paper. “So that’s my verse, huh? Did you put Gran up to this?”

When Mr. Yamamoto let Amy and DJ off in front of the school in the morning, they looked at each other as if they’d rather climb back into the car and head for home. Each girl shrugged her backpack over one shoulder, squared both shoulders, and started out across the parking lot.

“Bye, Dad.” Amy turned to wave.

DJ did the same. “Well, let’s get to our locker and pick up our class list.”

By the end of the day, DJ knew several new things. She and Amy had only one class together. Art would be DJ’s favorite, algebra her least. Literature would be fun because she loved to read, and PE would be an easy A. The rest she wasn’t sure about. One thing was sure, how was she going to keep up with everything? There was so much she had to do at home and with Major before she’d be ready for the Olympics. How would she ever do it all?

Chapter
•
11

“Who invented school, anyway?” Amy muttered.

“I don’t know, but yell at them for me.” DJ slumped against the wall by their shared locker. “And if I don’t keep my grades up, you know what will be the first to go.”

“You always get straight As.”

“I’ve never had algebra and Latin before.” DJ hoisted her backpack. “Let’s see if Joe is waiting for us out there. Mucking fifty stalls would be better than this.”

At the Academy she could tell instantly that Bridget and Joe approved of each other. They sized each other up and both turned to smile at DJ. She left the two of them talking about cutting horses and went to saddle Patches.

By the time she’d worked the gelding through his paces and had him backing up smoothly, she could easily forget school ever existed. And once she flew over the jumps with Megs, she felt alive again. This was where she belonged, on a horse, on target for her dream. After she’d groomed Megs, she noticed Hilary frowning at one of the new workers. She had to think a minute before she remembered his name: Tony. He sure didn’t look like a happy camper.

“You know these stalls are your responsibility.” DJ could tell Hilary was using every ounce of her tact and patience.

What had he done—or not done?

“I cleaned ’em.” His lip stuck out far enough to hang a bridle on.

“Then you’ll have to clean them again, and do it right this time.”

Oh no, not another James. We need a troublemaker like we need manure
. DJ felt like calling for Bridget, but they had their code: Handle everything you can yourself. It made you stronger and promoted better feelings between all the student workers.

She turned in time to see Bridget and Joe pause just inside the door.

“You can’t make me!” Tony gripped the handle of his shovel.

“No, I can’t make you, but I can report you, and then you won’t be able to ride or take lessons until Bridget says you can.” Hilary leaned against the stall wall as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “It’s up to you.”

Tony glared. He grumbled. He swore. But he went back into the stall and started tossing out dirty shavings.

“Oh, and that kind of language isn’t tolerated around here, either, so consider this your warning. I’ll be back to check on your progress in half an hour.”

DJ sneaked a look at Bridget. The smile of approval she saw on the trainer’s face made her more proud of Hilary than she already was. If only she could learn to be so cool under pressure.

She hung up her tack and straightened the bridles. Hilary came in and sank down on the lid of the tack box.

“You were so cool.” DJ sat down beside the older girl.

“Thanks, I felt like taking his shovel and rapping him over the head with it.” She shook her head, setting her corn-rowed braids to swinging. “Sometimes I wonder where these jerks come from. Why ask to work here if they don’t want to clean stalls?”

“They think it’s all show time. The movies don’t show how much work goes into caring for horses.”

“I guess.” Hilary got back up. “Hey, how was school?”

“Don’t ask.” DJ put on a happy face. “I love my art class, though.”

“Sure you do. Let you ride, jump, train, and draw pictures of horses, and you’d be in horse heaven.”

“How do you know?”

“ ’Cause you’re just like me.” Hilary patted DJ on top of her helmet. “And if you think junior high takes time, wait till you hit high school.”

As usual, Hilary gave her something to think about.

Gran was ready to put dinner on the table when Joe and DJ walked in the door. “Wash your hands, you two. I don’t want any horse hair in my salad.” She raised her face for Joe to kiss.

DJ felt a blush start about her collarbone.

“We’re embarrassing our girl.” Gran pushed the big man away with a gentle hand.

The comment turned the heat up. DJ shook her head at them with a grin. “You’re as bad as a couple of teenagers.”

“How would you know?”

“I got eyes.” Her laughter trailed back as she took the stairs two at a time.

Even with Joe there, dinner felt like it was supposed to. She and Gran had spent many nights together with Lindy away on business trips. By the time they’d listened to Joe rave about Bridget and the Academy, Gran tell about a new contract, and DJ fill them in on day one at school, darkness had wrapped the house in its comforting arms.

When the phone rang, DJ jumped up to get it. “Hi, Mom. How’s your trip going?” DJ twirled the phone cord around her finger while she listened. “Amy and I only have one class together. We don’t even have the same lunch. I know I’ll live with it, but I’d rather be at the Academy.” She grimaced at her mother’s response. She should know better than to tease her mother over the phone. “Sure, Gran’s here, I’ll get her.” She put her hand over the mouthpiece and called her grandmother. “See you Wednesday.” She handed the phone to Gran, then stopped in the doorway to listen.

“Say, if it’s all right, I’d like to have Robert and the boys to dinner on Wednesday,” Gran was saying. DJ stopped in surprise.
How come Gran hadn’t mentioned it to her?
She headed for the dining room.

“How come you didn’t tell me about Wednesday?” She slumped in her chair when Gran came back to the dining room.

“I needed to check it out with your mother first. If you wouldn’t eavesdrop like that, you wouldn’t discover so many surprises.”

DJ slumped lower. She memorized the pattern on her placemat.

“What difference does it make? I just thought this family needed to get to know one another better, and the boys have been begging to come see their cousin.” Gran motioned toward the coffeepot, asking Joe if he wanted more.

He shook his head. “I think we’re going to have to buy a pony for the grandkids as soon as we move into our house. One like Bandit would be just right.”

“Wish we
did
have a pony; we don’t have any stuff here to entertain little kids.”

“Oh, Robert will bring something. Anyway, the boys love being read to.”

“They can sit still long enough for a story?”

Both Gran and Joe laughed at the skeptical look on DJ’s face.

“Well, I better hit my books.” DJ started stacking dishes to carry to the kitchen.

“You go ahead, I’ll get those.” Joe stopped her when she reached for his plate.

“Thanks.” She dropped a kiss on Gran’s head and whispered in her ear. “You better keep him if he does dishes.”

“I heard that.”

DJ chuckled her way upstairs. “You two just want to smooch without me watching,” she yelled down from the top landing.

“Darla Jean, whatever—” Her grandmother’s words were cut off.

The more DJ hurried the next afternoon, the more behind she got. Patches was never one to be hurried. His crow-hopping on the backing drill reminded her of that.

By the time she’d taken Megs over the course twice, the mare had refused two jumps.

“All right, DJ, what is bothering you?” Bridget called from the center of the arena.

“We have company coming for dinner.”

“So.”

“So I was hurrying.”

“And?”

“And hurrying doesn’t work. So now I take a deep breath, relax, and take Megs over the course again, concentrating on what I’m doing.”

“Good. I can see that you listen when I talk to you. Now take your own advice and count the strides between each jump. I have spaced them for six. Make sure she is jumping straight. If you get lazy, your horse will feel it immediately.”

“Okay.” DJ returned to a two-point trot, circled the ring, and cantered toward the first jump again. This time they flew over each obstacle without a pause. She didn’t need Bridget to tell her she’d done a good job.

DJ and Joe were the last to arrive for dinner. As they walked in the door, two torpedoes hurled themselves against DJ’s legs and clung. Two matching round faces with laughing blue eyes and smiles from dimple to dimple kept their mouths in perpetual motion.

“We been waiting for you. Where you been? How come you didn’t come sooner? We comed to see you. Did you bring your horse?”

DJ looked from one to the other, doing her best to tell them apart. No such luck. “Okay, B&B, let me put my stuff down—”

“B&B!” The two shrieked in unison.

“Me’s Billy, him’s Bobby.” The one on the right let go long enough to point.

“Well, how am I supposed to tell who’s who?” DJ let a laughing Joe take her bag.

“The same way the rest of us do. We yell ‘hey, you’ and they both come.” Joe grabbed one of the two and, with the giggling body clamped under his arm, headed for the kitchen. The other let loose DJ’s leg and pelted after them.

DJ sucked in a deep breath. It was as if those two drained the room of oxygen. She started for the stairs when her gaze snagged on the two people standing by the French doors to the deck. Her five-feet-five mother looked tiny beside a taller and younger version of Joe Crowder. Robert’s fair hair and great smile made him look like a movie star. DJ squinted; a tall and blond Tom Cruise filled the doorway. Her mother was laughing, her long earrings catching the light when she shook her head. She wore her hair pulled back on the sides, and, as usual, her clothes looked as if she’d just stepped out of a Nordstrom’s window.

DJ looked down at her dirty jeans, a tear in one knee, her T-shirt liberally decorated with horse hairs. She could hear Gran with Joe and the twins in the kitchen. Everyone had someone but her.

Feeling both grungy and unneeded, she made her way up the stairs to take a shower.

“Dinner in fifteen minutes,” Gran called after her.

DJ started to take her usual place at the table, but World War III erupted over the chair next to her.

“Me sit by DJ!”

“No.” Big shove. “Me!”

“Hey, guys, we can fix this easy. I’ll sit here.” DJ pulled out the next chair over. “And then there’s room on each side.” Guess she was needed after all. They reached for her hands when Joe bowed his head for grace. “Thank you, Father, for this new family you have created. Thank you for the food that Melanie has so lovingly prepared. May we all seek to do your will. Amen.”

Everyone joined in the amen. DJ glanced from one side of her to the other. The boys were two peas in a pod. When they grinned up at her, she felt her heart flutter and expand. She finally had cousins. And they were pretty cute.

But by the time she cut up their meat, helped pour milk, and answered fifty nonstop questions, she was wiped out. Robert was laughing at her across the table.

“Just tell ’em to knock it off.” He put on a stern face. “Okay, guys, DJ would like to eat her dinner, too, you know.”

“ ’Kay.
Then
will you show us your pictures?”

“Your horse pictures—the ones you drawed.” The left side piped up. “Gran said you has lots of pictures.”

“We draw pictures, too.”

By the time dinner was over, DJ felt as though she’d just spent three hours at a tennis match. While the adults cleaned up, she took the boys upstairs to her room, where they oohed and aahed over her drawings.

“How about a story?” She took them with her to her bookshelf where she’d kept all her favorite books since she was a little girl. “You like Dr. Seuss?” At their enthusiastic agreement, she pulled
Cat in the Hat
off the shelf. She plumped her pillows into a stack, then snuggled against them, one boy tucked under each arm.