High Hurdles (51 page)

Chapter
•
13

Custody! I’m not leaving here. No way
. DJ leaned closer to the partially open door.

“I know she’s level-headed, Robert, but you’ve read about all those cases in the newspaper. I just don’t want to go through any legal battles. But most of all, I don’t want to lose my daughter.”

You won’t, Mom, you won’t
. DJ chewed on the tip of her finger. She shouldn’t have listened.
What can I do? God, do you see what’s happening? Please help us
. She tiptoed back to her bedroom and noiselessly closed the door.

“I’m not going to visit them if that’s what’s going to happen.” She paced to the window and back. “But is Mom worrying about something that’s never going to happen? I need to talk to Gran and Joe.” She sank down onto her bed and worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she gathered up her term paper. All she had left to do was to rewrite it in decent handwriting. How come every time she thought things were going smoothly again, something messed things up? Was that the way life always was?

That night DJ dreamed she was being chased—again. It was the first time in a while now. She jerked awake, heart pounding, mouth dry. Who was the man chasing her? And why? She turned on the light and headed for the bathroom. Surely by the time she went back to bed, the nightmare would be gone.

But it wasn’t. She ran and ran, trying to scream, but no sound would come. Dark behind her, a light far ahead—would she make it in time?

Her alarm saved her. She woke up feeling as though she’d hardly slept.

“You look like you’ve been zapped by the Death Star,” Amy said as DJ threw her backpack in the Yamamotos’ car.

“Thanks for nothing. I can’t help getting a zit.”

“Not the zit, silly, you’ve got huge bags under your eyes and notebook paper has more color than your skin. You sick?”

“I didn’t think so, but now I’m not so sure. You stay up half the night working on a term paper and see how you feel.”

“That’s why I always do my stuff early. I turned it in Friday.” Amy ducked when DJ swung at her.

“One more day, just one more day and no school for over two weeks. I can get through it.” DJ leaned her head against the back of the seat. “Oh, I almost forgot. Brad—”

“Your father?”

“What other Brad do I know? Anyway, he invited me to spend a couple of days at his house over vacation and said I could bring a friend. You want to go?”

“Do
you
want to go?”

“I’m not sure. Mom’s all upset.” DJ went on to tell her friend about the scene the night before—and her mother’s worries. “You’d think I was moving out tomorrow the way she carried on.” They’d reached their locker and the bell was about to ring. “I don’t know, Ames, I just don’t know.”

“Well, I’ll ask my mom if I can go, if you want. Sounds like a primo place.”

“I wanted to at first—I mean, all their horses and Jacquelyn doing dressage—she said she’d show me stuff and that I could ride one of their horses.” The warning bell rang. “See ya.”

DJ had a tough time keeping her mind on the rivers of the world in geography class. What was her mother going to say?

But Lindy didn’t mention the invitation at all that night. In fact, her mother hardly mentioned anything. She wore the green look of a migraine headache when she came in the door and headed to bed as fast as she could climb the stairs. When DJ offered to bring some soup, Lindy groaned and refused.

“Just leave me alone, and maybe I’ll be human again by morning.”

DJ spent the evening rewriting her paper and working on the book for the Double Bs. Gran had a meeting and wouldn’t be home till after nine. She’d nearly talked with Joe about the whole mess while at the Academy, but they hadn’t had enough uninterrupted time. Concentrating on what she had to do took every bit of willpower she owned and some borrowed besides. If only she could have gone to Gran’s after riding.

She chewed on the end of her pencil. They were supposed to call Brad. If only that phone call from Mr. Bradley Atwood had never come—and if only she hadn’t eavesdropped. She wished she could go riding up in Briones to forget everything. She looked up to see rain rivulets running down the window. Fat chance!

When Gran hadn’t answered the phone by ten, DJ gave up. Her final message said, “I’ll talk with you tomorrow. I’m crashing.”

School let out at noon. DJ let out a whoop and danced all the way to Joe’s truck. “I’m free, I’m free! Free at last.”

Amy followed behind her, shaking her head at Joe’s grin. “Don’t blame me that she’s gone freaky. I’m just her friend.”

At the Academy, DJ worked Patches without incident, to the surprise of both her and the owner. Mrs. Johnson had stayed to watch how DJ handled the horse so she could learn to ride him better. But when it was time for Andrew’s lesson, she went to sit in the car and read a book like she always did.

Andrew mounted Bandit with only slight hesitation, grinning at DJ’s words of praise.

“You won’t make him go fast so I fall off?” His question caught her by surprise.

“Why would I do that?”

“You went fast, and you fell off.”

DJ shook her head. “Andrew, my boy, you get some of the screwiest ideas. Falling off isn’t such a big deal. Patches dumped me because he had too much pep and he likes to do his own thing. But Bandit is not like Patches—Bandit has known how to behave for years. Patches is just learning. Don’t worry, buddy, you aren’t going to fall off today. Okay?”

“Promise?” He looked at her from under long lashes.

“Near as I can.” DJ snapped a lunge line on to the pony’s halter. “Now, are your legs in the right place? Back straight? Tuck in your elbows, hold your chin up, and you are ready to ride.” She moved him into the proper position as she talked. “Now, today you get to see what making the pony move feels like. You turn him with the reins, kind of like riding a bike, and you make him walk by squeezing with your legs.” She pulled first one rein and then the other, then pressed his legs against the sides of the horse. “So when I say turn right, you pull the . . .” She waited for his answer.

“Right rein. Not hard, though.”

“That’s right. And to go forward?”

“Squeeze my legs, but not hard.”

“Right. We don’t do anything hard here. Horses like a gentle touch.” DJ led Bandit out to the arena, through a gentle mist. The air smelled clean and fresh. Oh, to be riding herself! And not around the arena.

She closed the gate and led the pony onward, giving Andrew right turn, left turn, stop, and go commands. Little by little she could see him relaxing, and a smile begin to curve his lips. At the stop, she turned again to face him. “Now, see this lunge line?” She held up the coiled rope. “You are going to start going in a circle around me. While you do that, you’ll give Bandit his orders just like I did you. Got that?”

The smile flickered, and Andrew gritted his teeth. “I . . . I guess so.”

DJ stepped back three paces, letting out the line as she went. “Okay, make Bandit go.”

Andrew gripped the reins and squeezed his legs. Bandit walked forward like he always had. The boy turned to DJ with a grin wide on his face. “He did it. I made him go.”

By the end of the lesson, his smile was a permanent fixture.

So was DJ’s.

She understood much more how Andrew felt when Bridget refused to let her use stirrups during her dressage lesson later. “You remember how Major stopped the other day?” Bridget asked.

“How could I forget?”

“Your seat is much better, so I am sure that will not happen again. Remember what I said—when you pushed down with your pelvis, you pushed his backbone down, and that stopped him. Now, you must continue to drive him forward with your seat and legs. You did not have enough leg before.”

“I know, balance between hand, leg, and seat. It sounds so easy in the book.”

“You are right, it does sound easy. But nothing of value is ever easy, and you will be a much better jumper because of your willingness to work at this.”

So you’ve said
. DJ kept the words to herself—Bridget didn’t care much for smart answers. By the end of the hour, her thigh and calf muscles were screaming and her back ached horribly. She was sure she’d hear the words “more leg” in her dreams.

When they finished the lesson, DJ surprised herself by asking Bridget a question. “Do you know of a woman named Jacquelyn Atwood?”

“Sure, she is a fourth-level rider from up north—Santa Rosa, I believe. Why?”

“Nothing much. Is she good?”

“To ride at that level you have to be. She has a wonderful horse, too. I cannot remember the name of the farm, but I believe her husband breeds Arabs.”

“Atwoods’ Arabians.”

“Yes, that is it. Why all this interest in a dressage rider? You thinking of going on?”

“Me? Give me a break!”

“Sorry I asked. Keep practicing, though, DJ. You are doing well.” Bridget waved and trotted through the mist to the office.

DJ watched her go, then used her legs to put Major into forward motion. If Andrew could learn new skills, so could she.