Sliding On The Edge (12 page)

I walk away.

Still there’s that black horse . . . I
see him next to Floyd’s ratty barn, head high, not like the others
that have already given up and stare at the ground, waiting to die.
He’s got hope somewhere inside him.

He’s a horse, Shawna. Too
stupid to know there is no hope.

Kay’s still talking with the guy at
the counter, so I go back to the vitamins. It’s been a while since
I lifted something. I feel that old tingle when I wrap my fingers
around the plastic bottle and take it down from the shelf. Remember
what Mom showed you, okay?

Read the label.

Put the bottle back.

Take another one down.

Read.

Put this one back, but at the same
time shove the first one up your sleeve. Even the surveillance
cameras have a hard time seeing that maneuver.

Now stroll.

Take your time.

Look at other stuff.

Never rush.

Start for the door.

Turn back and look at something
else.

Mom’s voice: “Think, I’ve got all the
time in the world.”

“
Shawna?” It’s
Kay.

“
Coming.” I’m so
obedient.

Chapter 23

Shawna

I name the black horse Magic. I once
read a novel about a kid named Magic. He made it out of the slums
and into big-league baseball, even after beatings left him with a
gimpy leg. The kid had real guts to go from being crippled to being
one of the best runners on the team. It was just a story, but I
liked it.

Magic doesn’t exactly run to meet me
when I climb over the fence and onto Drunk Floyd’s property, but at
least he doesn’t keep his distance like he used to. He sidles up
slowly and noses my pockets for the apples I have tucked inside.
The other two still hang back, but I know they’ll come around as
soon as they get a taste of what Magic’s enjoying.

I wait until Drunk Floyd’s car
disappears down the road, then climb the fence and drop down into
enemy territory. It’s another dynamic Sunday on the ranch, and
Floyd always goes into town Sunday, so that’s the day I have Magic
to myself for a few hours.

Today I’m armed with the vitamins I
lifted last week when Kay hauled me to Rural Supply. I’ve seen
Kenny dose Kay’s horses with these giant pills, and her horses are
buffed critters, so I figure this bony old guy needs a power boost
and these pills might help.

From Kay’s barn I grab a pan and some
of the gray’s special grain. In the bottom of the pan, I mash the
pills like I’ve seen Kenny do, and then stir the powder in water;
next I pour in the grain. Magic scarfs it all down and noses the
apple chunks out of my hand. I reach up and touch the white patch
on his forehead. He jerks his head back and snorts, like he’s
saying, “Hands off!”

I wait until he comes up close again
for more apple, and then I stroke the same spot. He shakes his
head, but he doesn’t back away this time.

“
You’ll get used to me. Just
like I’m getting used to you and all your cousins around this
place.”

I’m concentrating so hard on getting
close to Magic that I don’t hear the car coming. When the door
slams, it’s too late to hide. Drunk Floyd is stomping across the
pasture toward me. Magic and the other horses vanish around the
side of the barn.

“
I’m calling the sheriff
unless you get off my property and stay off!” he shouts.

“
I just wanted—”

“
You deaf?”

“
You sober?” I yell
back.

I figure he probably is sober for a
change, so now I don’t have the advantage I usually do. But I’m
faster than he is, so instead of trying to reason with the old
crab, I sprint to the fence and hurtle over it to the other
side.

“
And you stay the hell over
there, you hear?” He waves his fist in my direction, and I consider
flipping him off, but change my mind. I’ll get him sometime when
he’s staggering all over the place.

“
That was some scene.”
Sunday Boy is leaning on the rake and smiling at me from the
barn.

“
Yeah. He’s a piece of work,
that guy.”

“
What are you doing over
there, anyway?”

I almost come back with, “What’s it to
you?” But I change my mind. “The horses. I sneak over once in a
while and give them something.”

He nods. “Well, I got work to do. See
you around.”

“
Wait!” That comes out
before I think. Now that he’s looking at me, I have to come up with
something to say. “I don’t know your name.”

“
Nope. You don’t.” He goes
inside the barn.

I scuff my way inside after him. “What
is it?”

“
Casey.”

“
I’m only asking because I
can’t call you Sunday Boy all the time.”

“
Oh, yeah? I didn’t know you
called me anything at all.”

Why do I care about his
name? Why am I even bothering to talk to him?

He hooks the lead to the gray and
brings her outside, where he ties her off. I stand back as he
paints some smelly ointment all over her feet and then soaps her
front to back with warm suds. He hoses her down and scrapes the
water off her front, sides and rear. Then he dries her legs with a
towel. So many steps, and he’s careful with each one, like what
he’s doing is the most important job in the world. He works on
horses a lot like Kenny does, and the gray stands easy under his
hands. She trusts him, knows she’s safe. I watch while he pulls a
mask over her face and sprays her with some stuff that Kenny says
helps keep the flies away. When he finishes, he turns her out to
pasture, to have her Sunday the way she wants it.

Another question bubbles to the
surface before I can stop it. “Have you always worked with
horses?”

“
Since I could walk. We
still have a couple, but my dad had to sell some off. Too
expensive.” He looks down at me. “How about you?”

“
Never. Well, not until I
came here.”

“
You’re lucky you’re here.
Kay’s got a nice place and her boarders take good care of their
horses. Not like over there.” He nods toward Drunk Floyd’s. “Nobody
does anything for those guys. I expect they’ll end up in Texas one
of these days.”

“
Not my favorite state.” I
remember that week in Houston and the motel from hell with
armor-plated cockroaches scuttling in the dark corners. After Mom
turned the lights off, their beetle legs clicked across the
linoleum, coming to get me under the sheets. I stole a flashlight
the first chance I got, and every night I shined it down the side
of my bed. It still grosses me out to think about them creeping
across my toes on my way to pee.

“
It won’t be those horses’
favorite state either.”

It’s the way he says it that sounds
creepy and makes me want to know what he means. I chew on the
inside of my mouth before I ask, “Why won’t they like Texas? I
didn’t think horses cared where they lived.”

“
Oh, they won’t live there
long. A few days maybe. A while back they’d have ended up in a can
for Buster’s dinner. Now I think they ship the meat to Canada or
Europe.”

Horse in a can! I’m glad he’s walking
into the tack room and hasn’t stopped to look at me. It’s like I’ve
suddenly shown up naked in public and have nowhere to hide. If I’d
been in front of Tuan’s mirror, I’d have seen the face Monster
always sees, fear scribbled all over it.

I have to put my head down between my
knees or I know I’m going to topple over. My stomach’s a washer
going into an out-of-kilter spin, my head has a rope cinched tight
around it and it throbs. When I stand up again, I look across at
Drunk Floyd’s.

Magic pokes his head through the
rails, looking at me, waiting for me to come to him.

I take a few steps toward
him.
No. Stop
.

“
I can’t waste my time on
you anymore,” I yell. “You’re horse meat on the hoof.”

My voice must sound different to him,
because he ducks out from between the rails and shambles
away.

“
Magic. I . . . Forget it.
You’re history, so why waste my time?” I start toward the
house.

“
Do you say mean things to
everyone and everything?” Casey calls after me.

“
What’s it to you?” I look
over my shoulder.

He shakes his head and goes back into
the barn.

I see more of his back
than anything else. Jerk.

Chapter 24

Shawna

One cool thing about Sweet River High
is the wide grassy spot with the big trees and picnic tables.
Everybody calls it The Park. As long as the weather stays good,
lots of kids eat lunch or hide behind the tree trunks, sucking on
each others’ faces. Mr. Green gets his exercise every noon, pulling
lips apart.

I spot him heading my way and bury my
nose in my English Lit book.

“
Afternoon, Shawna,” Mr.
Green calls.

I nod, hunching over my
book.

“
I see you’re enjoying the
last of our sunny days.” Mr. Green never takes hints. He’s the kind
of guy Mom says you have to hit up the side of the head.

“
Yeah.” I give him my
go-away-you-jerk look.

“
I talked to your
grandmother again yesterday. She says you’re going to a therapist
in Sacramento next week.”

I shrug. “I guess.”

“
I’m pleased to hear that.
I’ll check back with you to see how things go, all
right?”

“
Whatever.”

The shrink is Kay’s idea, not mine.
And I’m not going along with the program. She can make all the
appointments she wants, but making me talk is totally not
happening. I have Monster under control. I can manage anything, so
take your shrink and stuff him.

I lean back against the tree and flip
to Chapter Four, The Romantic Movement. On the first page is a
picture of a guy on a black horse, galloping after another guy who
is freaked out because the guy chasing him is headless! This is
romantic?

“
What are you doing?” Casey
sits down on the grass next to me.

“
What does it look
like?”

“
You never let up, do
you?”

I close the book. “What’s that
supposed to mean?”

“
It means that you are the
hardest egg I’ve ever met.”

I laugh. “I’ve never been called an
egg before.”

“
You outta laugh more.” He
stands to leave. “You look nice when you do, Shawna.”

Nice. Me? That’s
interesting. Shawna and nice in the same sentence from the guy
who—damn it—has the greatest butt I’ve ever seen. Let it go,
girlfriend. You have enough on your plate without this . . . this
perfectly handsome guy who has just turned his back and is walking
away.
“How come you’re always walking off
in the middle of a conversation?”

“
This is a conversation?” He
smiles over his shoulder. “I thought it was just another chance for
you to show me how tough you are. I’ll see you later about what I
came to say.”

“
Whatever!” I slam my book
on the ground.

“
See? Shawna, the hardest
egg around.” He waves and walks over to join a group of students
sitting at one of the picnic tables.

He doesn’t know tough. I’ll
show him tough one of these days
. I pick up
my book and find my place, but Mrs. Heady’s assignment doesn’t seem
as interesting as it did a minute ago. I hold the book so I look
like I’m reading, but I watch over the top. Who’s he talking to?
Two girls I don’t know sitting on top of the table. One is arched
back, her boobs pushed to the sky.
And on
the bench is . . . Oh, my gawd. It’s The Troll! He’s talking to old
ferret-face.

I snap the book closed and stand up.
That’s all I can take. I walk directly to the picnic table and tap
Casey on the shoulder. “I just wanted to conclude our conversation.
Don’t even come near me anymore. You smell like troll, and troll is
a turn-off.”

“
Who is she?” The blond with
the boobs asks.

When I look at her and then at the
other girl next to her, I choke. They look exactly
alike.

The Troll mumbles something about my
being a new student.

“
What’s your problem?” one
twin asks.

“
Hold on, Deanna.” Casey
says, and he turns to face me. “I get to ask that question. What is
your problem, Shawna?”

“
I don’t have a problem as
long as you stay away from me. Your present company stinks, and I
don’t want it to rub off on me.” I look at the twins and at The
Troll. “Spell stink with a capital S.
I
leave them all with their mouths open.

I cram the books I don’t need for my
next class into my locker and go to the girls’ room. When I come
out, Casey is propped against the opposite wall with his arms
crossed over his chest.