Nothing But Horses (19 page)

“Who?” Robin asked.

“The point guard for Centennial. She’s the
girl who teaches puppy obedience at Salmon Pond and she really
knows her stuff. Charlie adores her. She taught him to heel on the
leash last Friday. She told me if I was as tough on him as I was on
the court, I’d have a good dog. If I wimp out when we play the
Crusaders, she plans to steamroller me.”

Vicky peeled the cap off her drink and took a
big swallow. “Isn’t Salmon Pond a stable?”

“Yeah, but one of the local dog 4-H leaders
knows Lisa, the owner. When there’s inclement weather, obedience is
held at the barn. In the summer, it moves to the local park.”

“I’m going to need a contact number so I can
take my puppy,” Dani said.

“Me too.” Vicky finished her caffeine just as
the first warning bell rang. “Have we come up with a name for our
new club?”

“I think we should be the Lucky Charms.”
Robin stood and collected her backpack. “Then, Lucky Lady and
Prince Charming can be our mascots.”

Dr. Danvers gave us the evil eye and pointed
to the English wing. We stood and gathered our things. We started
walking while Vicky argued for her choice, the Shamrock Stars. She
suggested that we could use the Irish or Celtic star as one of our
emblems. We hadn’t come to a decision when we arrived in Mrs.
Weaver’s room, so I decided to opt for something that would make
Mom happy. I suggested we organize a meeting for all the potential
members and vote on a club name. The majority’s choice would
win.

The three of them stared at me as if I’d just
opened a portal and visited from another dimension. I didn’t say a
thing about my mother’s improvement plan to turn me into a
Stepford
teen. These were my friends and they liked me.
Besides, it was demoralizing to have my own mom join forces with
Coach Norris and agree that I wasn’t a team player. I wondered how
she’d feel about being called, ma’am. I’d never done it before, but
that didn’t mean I couldn’t try it. Or even that I wouldn’t.

That afternoon, I hung out in the locker room
until most of the girls were ready. I walked into the gym with
Didi, Willow and Cedar. We weren’t late, but I also wasn’t early.
Coach Norris had already pulled out most of the equipment. He
called for us to form up for drills. I made sure to be in the group
on the right side since he always had the left-hand one shoot first
and alternate to the players in the second line. Then, he switched
it this week.

I scored when it was my turn, glimpsed his
scowl and decided to try a different tactic. Oh sure, I’d use
Dani’s
last word
strategy, but I also deliberately missed
the next three times it was my turn. I shot a basket the fourth
time. I staggered the routine so he wouldn’t realize my misses were
intentional.

When we ran lines, I stayed with the team and
didn’t push myself. I got a couple hard looks from Olivia and Cedar
when I didn’t keep up and actually made it to the far end three
less times than they did. The rest of the girls still didn’t know
me that well so they probably figured last week when I busted my
rear, arrived early, stayed late was an aberration, not my normal.
I continued to hold back during practice plays and scrimmages. I
didn’t shoot any baskets, just passed the ball to whoever was on my
side whether they were close enough to score or not.

When we finished up, Coach Norris actually
smiled at me, the third time since I joined the team. “Nice job
today, Sierra.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Chapter
Seventeen

Marysville, Washington

Monday, January
13
^th
, 4:05 pm

After our cool down, I walked off the court
toward the locker room feeling lower than dirt. Olivia came up on
one side of me and Neva, a skinny African-American caught up on the
other. I kept my gaze on the floor. “Don’t harangue me, okay? I
have to go along to get along.”

“As long as you realize that if you pull any
of that crap on Thursday night, we’re kicking your butt back to
M.P., it’s cool,” Neva said.

I flicked a glance at her and saw fury on her
ebony features. Tears burned and one slid down my cheek before I
could stop it. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Olivia bumped me
with her elbow. “You better get your butt out and practice tonight
at home. Otherwise, air-balling becomes a habit. Deal?”

I nodded. Another tear. “Deal.”

“Oh and if you have the time, you should run
with Robin and me. Otherwise, that lagging during lines will cost
you in the games.”

“Won’t he catch on if I run with you or other
people on cross-country?” I asked.

“No. We’re on hiatus for the month. We don’t
start training again until February when we have to get ready for
State. He knows we practice on our own, but we don’t tell him about
it and then he can’t tote the party line and tell us not to overdo
it.”

“Okay.” When we entered the locker room, I
still couldn’t look at the rest of the squad. I was too ashamed and
embarrassed for giving less than my best. If Olivia and Neva had
caught on to what I’d done, what about the rest of the girls? Did
they know? If they did, nobody said anything while I changed
clothes and left the gym.

* * * *

Marysville, Washington

Tuesday, January
14
^th
, 4:15 pm

I did the same thing again at practice and
won more praise from Coach Norris for holding back. This time,
Patricia and Didi were the ones who escorted me to the locker room
and called me on being a slacker. I gave them the stink-eye and
demanded. “What do you want me to do? Run lines the entire time
because he hates me?”

“Why is he giving you such a hard time?”
Patricia asked. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” I said. “He asked me what position
I could play when I got here and I told him that I was good with
wherever he wanted me. I didn’t ask for point guard even though I
was one last year and the entire time I played in middle
school.”

“He thinks you’re a princess.” Didi’s voice
was loud enough that it caught some of the other girls’
attention.

“Well, that’s bogus. I just don’t get it,”
Cedar said, coming over to us. “I’ve seen you practice at home
after you clean the barn at night. Other kids have chores, but they
don’t take care of twenty horses by themselves.”

“Yeah, well if Sierra didn’t love the game so
much, she’d bail and figure she had enough to do at Shamrock
Stable,” Olivia said. “Anybody know why Coach is on her case?”

Nobody said a word. Finally, a skinny, quiet
blonde on the far side of the locker room waved her hand. “I’m
office TA third period. Want me to see what I can find out
tomorrow?”

“That works,” Patricia said. “Anything
Gretchen should be looking for, Sierra? Or listening for?”

“I don’t know what they’ll say there.” I
managed to shrug. “I’m here on athletic scholarship, but that’s not
a secret. Principal Gallagher seemed enthusiastic about me
enrolling when my grandfather and I visited.”

“
That shouldn’t be a big deal,” Olivia
said. “Kanisha and I have scholarships too.”

“We’re not the only ones,” Kanisha said.

I knew it should make me feel better to have
them on my side, but it didn’t. I wanted us to be a team and work
well with our coach. I wasn’t gutless. I’d been standing up for
myself for as long as I could remember. I didn’t care for the
tension when I entered the gym and I really hated calling somebody,
“sir,” when it wasn’t a sign of respect, but a way to circumvent
criticism.

I changed clothes and headed out to the
Burger Palace. I ordered pasta again. It wasn’t that I needed the
carbs. I wanted the comfort food. Tom came over with my salad and
topped off my water glass. “Thanks.”

“You look down. Anything I can help
with?”

I focused on unwrapping the napkin around the
silverware. “I’m just having a hard time with this new Saint Sierra
role. It’s tough being super sweet to stupid people.”

“That’s an expectation put on girls.” Tom
lingered by my booth. “You don’t hear adults telling guys they have
to be con artists to be liked. When I ran for student-body prez, I
didn’t opt for insincerity, or telling everyone what I figured they
wanted to hear. Think about it.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah. How about a ride to group
tonight?”

“Sure. And I’m not saying it to be Ms.
Congeniality.”

“Yeah, well I’d rather you’d just be Ms.
Honest,” Tom said. “There are enough phony people in the world. I
hope you don’t join them.”

For the first time in days, I felt like
smiling, really smiling. “Around you, I won’t. How’s that?”

“Sounds like a plan. I have to get back to
work. We’ll talk later.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” I wasn’t lying,
not to him. I could be me, the real person. That was a major load
off my shoulders.

During the at-risk meeting, I found myself
looking at the other seven kids in a new way. How many of them put
on masks, pretending to be something they weren’t? Finally, Ingrid
came back to me and asked if I wanted to contribute. I shook my
head. “Not tonight.”

Tom jumped into the conversation. “I have a
question about gender expectations.”

“What?” Ron groaned and buried his head in
his hands. “Is this going to turn into one of those school
lectures?”

“No way, man. One of the girls at work wants
to do more than help the cook. He says running the grill is too
hard for her because she’s female. She should concentrate on being
pretty and flirting with the male customers to make tips when she
waitresses. Do I take this to my boss? How do I handle it?”

That brought hoots of laughter and
suggestions of what Tom should tell the cook about coming into the
“now” instead of hanging out in the “middle ages.” Once the other
kids figured out he was serious, the tone changed. Eleanor asked
how much the boxes of burgers weighed. Could the girl physically do
the job?

Tom said that she already stocked the little
refrigerator of supplies and plated for the cook. She really wanted
to go to culinary school and learn to be a chef. This would make a
good first step as well as a decent raise.

Once we started coming up with possible
solutions, Ingrid took over. She talked about how society had
certain roles for guys and girls. She asked how many people were
told they could do something better because of gender.

“Do you mean like my mom wanting me to tune
up her car when my sister actually knows more about mechanics?” Ron
leaned forward and snagged a cookie from the plate. “Or my dad
telling her to get out of the garage, to go to the kitchen and fix
supper when she’s a lousy cook? She has the pizza parlor on speed
dial.”

“Exactly like that.” Ingrid smiled at him.
“Who else has something to say?”

“I do.” Vicky waved her hand. “How about when
my stepdad says he “lost his temper” and my mom has “hysterical
meltdowns”? His rages are worse than hers, but when she’s angry, he
wants to know if it’s that time of the month. No wonder they’re
divorcing.”

“Yeah,” Eleanor said. “It’s like those labels
we talked about in Health class. He’s aggressive, a real go-getter.
She’s bossy and pushy.”

“What’s wrong with being bossy?” Vicky
glanced at me. “If Sierra’s not bossy at the barn, twenty horses go
hungry. Would it be better if she was a guy?”

“I don’t think so,” Tom said.

That brought snickers and more laughter when
I felt my face warm. I didn’t get mad because they thought it was
funny that he crushed on me. I knew he did. He’d been looking at me
ever since I joined the group. And okay, I looked back. Who
wouldn’t? He was smart and when I got snarky, he didn’t give me a
lot of
be nice
garbage. Wait a second. Wasn’t that another
kind of label?

I didn’t get to ask. Becky, one of the girls
on the far side of the room brought it up. Fiona threw in a few
sarcastic comments about the models on TV. The conversation shifted
even more as Ingrid got us to talk about pet peeves. When she came
to me, I said what I thought. “I hate having to miss the basket
because girls
can’t
hit it every time.”

“Who says?” Becky demanded, twining black
hair around her finger. “It’s coordination, talent and practice.
Can you play golf?”

“I’ve never tried,” I said. “What does golf
have to do with basketball?”

“Well, if I took you out to the course, I bet
I’d beat you. I’ve been playing since I could lift a club. If I’m
on the court, I expect you to do better than me. You love
basketball. You’ve been playing forever. Why do you have to miss
the basket?”

“I told you. Because girls
can’t
shoot
like guys can. Does a coach ever tell a guy to hold back?”

“Only if he’s a secret weapon,” Ron said. “We
have this guy, Logan Watson at Centennial. We know he can outscore
everyone, so we use him to mop up the competition.”

“Does he hold back in practice?” Ingrid
asked.

“No way. He has to keep his skills sharp or
he’ll lose it when we need him.”

“What if he was a girl?” Ingrid didn’t look
at me, but kept her attention on Ron.

“The cheerleaders would be majorly ticked. So
would he when they quit following him.”

More laughter, but I got the point. It made
me feel better. Coach Norris had preconceived notions of what made
girls successful. He didn’t think we had the same desire to win
that the guys did. I’d bet he’d be totally surprised that Patricia
wanted us to compete at State this year. He probably didn’t even
know he practiced what Ingrid called,
gender bias
. Okay, so
I wasn’t about to call a lawyer and pitch a fit about sexual
discrimination. I’d just know it was Coach and his prejudices, not
me. And come Thursday night, I’d play ball. Lincoln High would win
again!