Unfaithful (23 page)

“We didn’t hear you drive up,” Jeneane said, standing next to Mr. Nichols who was busy stroking the horse’s huge black head over the top of its stall.

“Mr. Nichols,” I said, nodding at Faith’s dad who returned my nod. “The others are waiting in the car,” I told her, hoping she would get the hint without my seeming rude to her dad. I had a bad feeling and suddenly all I wanted was to get out of there.

“I haven’t seen Mr. Bloom in quite a while. How is your dad?” Mr. Nichols asked me politely.

The horse snorted nervously through its big nostrils, making me jump. “He’s just fine, thanks for asking. It’s because of work. He’s always really busy. More than usual lately. I barely see him myself,” I replied, trying to suppress my anxiety.

“Tell him I said hi.”

“Will do. Nice horse you’ve got there. It’s, um,
huge
,” I said, as fascinated as I was frightened by the massive beast’s black eyes. They riveted me like a black hole dragging me into its depths.

Jeneane coughed awkwardly. Had I said something wrong?

“His name’s Mustang. He’s my champion.” A proud twinkle in his eye, Mr. Nichols stroked the animal’s nose.

“Oh no, here we go again!” Faith groaned under her breath.

“Now you’ve done it,” Jeneane whispered in my ear, biting her lip. She’d probably put up with Mr. Nichols’s obsession with his horse long enough already.

“He’s a stallion,” he continued, oblivious to the looks on our faces. “He’s won more races than Casey Stoner!”

“Who?” Jeneane whispered, making me smother a laugh.

“He’s a champion MotoGP motorcycle racer,” I explained, still smiling at Faith’s dad who proceeded to rattle off the technical and aesthetic qualities that made his precious horse a champion. Mustang didn’t seem interested in all the praise; he didn’t take his eyes off me.

“I’m telling you, young ladies, in all my years I’ve never seen any horse run like Mustang. He’s a force of nature!” he exclaimed proudly as Faith rolled her eyes.

“I bet he is,” I mumbled, pursing my lips.

“Dad’s fanatical about that horse,” Faith whispered in my ear. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” I reassured her. “I think it’s nice.”

The horse snorted again and tossed his head, jerking Mr. Nichols’s hand as it held the reins. Mustang seemed spooked. Like me.

“Wow! He’s a real brute,” I said, my voice edged with anxiety.

Mr. Nichols tugged on the reins, trying to hold him still, but Mustang didn’t seem willing to obey his owner’s commands. He kept snorting with his big, black, damp nostrils and skittishly pawing the hay-covered floor, his black eyes fixed on me with what looked like a malevolent expression. My heart skipped a beat as I gazed into their depths. I instinctively stepped back, trying to make it seem casual. For some strange reason the horse seemed to have it in for me.

“Easy,” Mr. Nichols said softly. “Mustang! Easy! What’s wrong?” He stroked the horse’s nose as if expecting him to answer. “He’s usually so gentle. I don’t know what’s gotten into him today,” he said, clearly uneasy.

My eyes didn’t leave Mustang’s. The horse neighed and I backed up even farther, a terrible feeling flooding through me.

“Easy,” Mr. Nichols continued to whisper as the animal moved in his stall, agitated, snorting through his giant nostrils.

It was like he hated me. His dilated eyes made me shudder, but no one was paying attention to me. Jeneane, Faith, and Mr. Nichols were all focused on the animal’s strange behavior.

“Girls, maybe you should go and have fun,” Mr. Nichols said. “He’s probably just nervous because there are so many of us here. How odd. He’s never acted this way before.”

His words pulled me out of the pit of agitation into which I’d sunk. I nodded and waved goodbye, more anxious than ever to get outside and away from Mustang. The moment I walked out of the stable I took a breath of fresh air and noticed my hands were trembling.

Faith stopped in her tracks. “I left the flashlight in the kitchen!” she said.

“Flashlight?” I said, surprised. “You’re planning to stay out that late?” More than a question, it was a protest.

“What, didn’t they tell you?” Jeneane said, always eager to supply information to people who didn’t know everything she did. “The guys are going to make a campfire when it gets dark.”

“I’m bringing marshmallows!” Faith cried eagerly, gesturing at her pink backpack as I tried hard not to let my jaw drop.

“I wonder why they forgot to tell me,” I said sardonically. Actually I knew perfectly well why. Peter had been the one to plan everything and I was sure deep down he was still hoping something might happen between us. It would have been harder for me to turn down spending a couple hours with my friends, which was what he’d told me, than going on an outing that lasted until late at night.

I mechanically reached for my elastic band to put my hair up in a ponytail but it wasn’t around my arm. Then I remembered Evan had taken it as a keepsake and a hot shiver ran through my heart. At least he’d taken a piece of me with him.

“I’ll go with you!” Jeneane caught up with Faith who was walking to the house. “I have to go to the bathroom before we leave. The bushes irritate my skin.”

“I’ll wait in the car,” I called after them, unsure if they’d heard me. I began to walk quickly away from the stable but Mustang’s furious screams startled me. My heart contracted in my chest and I began to shiver, totally in the grip of an unexpected anxiety. Although I was already a hundred yards away, the noise of his hooves resounded in my ears: the horse was out of control and, judging from the nervous reaction of his owner who was trying uselessly to hold him, not even he knew why.

The earth beneath me began to tremble and my heart raced: Mr. Nichols had let Mustang out of his stall. I was glued to my spot, my eyes locked onto the horse’s as he neighed and snorted furiously. All at once I had a glimmer of lucidity: Mr. Nichols was leading Mustang into the paddock, so I had no reason to be afraid. The fence was newly constructed, its posts and bars thick and sturdy. The possibility that the horse might escape was all in my head.

Then something made me tremble: the tension in Ginevra’s voice. “Gemma!” she called, leaning out of the car door. My alarmed gaze shot to hers just as a neigh far louder than the others put my instincts on high alert. I spun around and froze, registering only confused scraps of information.

Mr. Nichols was on the ground and Mustang was up on his hind legs, out of control. He kicked at the fence so violently that the sound of his hooves striking the hard wood echoed through the yard, making me shudder.

A primitive fear shook me to my core. Panic clouded my mind and suddenly everything happened so fast I didn’t even have time to breathe. A ferocious black mass raced toward me like a raging bull in an arena. It would trample me in a matter of seconds. Everything around me became muffled and confused. My friends’ terrified voices faded into the background as my mind focused on one sound: the thundering of hooves against the ground as Mustang’s wild eyes bored into mine. No one else was around. It was just me and him.

“GEMMA!!!”

Ginevra’s scream was like a sledgehammer breaking me free from the block of ice in which my body had been encased. Mustang was only a few feet away by the time my brain gave the order for me to duck. He was too close for me to elude him and it was too late for me to run.

I curled up on the ground, closed my eyes, and held my breath, bracing for the impact. A blast of sandy earth struck me and I heard the deafening silence of the others holding their breath. The echo of wild galloping grew fainter as, numb with terror, panting and trembling, I slowly raised my head and saw Mustang racing into the trees. Mr. Nichols, on Faith’s small brown horse, galloped after the stallion in a desperate attempt to catch him.

I shuddered, the hairs on my arms standing on end as the sandy earth settled to the ground around me. In the moment of silence that followed, I looked at my friends. Motionless, they stared at me, pale and speechless.

Ginevra was the first to run to me. The look in her eye told me how difficult it was for her to limit herself to a human pace in this bizarre circumstance. The others followed her as if waking from a nightmare, and an instant later the silence was replaced by a frantic jumble of worried voices.

“Are you okay?” Ginevra rested her hand on my arm, her tone apprehensive and her expression more worried than anyone else’s.

I wasn’t sure I could speak. “I—I think s-so,” I stammered, my eyelids fluttering. I raised a hand to my temple, which throbbed beneath my fingers. Everybody surrounded me, staring as if I’d just survived a shark attack. If Mustang had trampled me, it probably would have been even worse than a shark attack.

“What did I tell you guys?!” Peter exclaimed. “Horses are dangerous.” He shot me a glance, looking almost reproachful, and in his eyes I could see how worried he was. No one else paid any attention to him.

“I’m taking you home,” Ginevra said matter-of-factly.

“No!” I said quickly in a determined voice.

For a moment my tone made everyone fall silent. They were all studying my face, their own still full of concern. Unjustified concern, because the worst had passed.

“I don’t want to ruin the outing for everybody,” I insisted.

“But Gemma!” Ginevra shot me a pleading look.

“Everything’s fine, all right?” I hissed. “Let’s go.”

Faith was still as pale as a wax statue. She seemed to want me to go home more than anyone else. “It could have been a tragedy,” she murmured dully as she stared at nothing. As she lifted her face to mine I saw tears shining in her eyes. She probably felt guilty because the horse belonged to her dad.

“But it wasn’t,” I reassured her, looking at Ginevra.

Was it you who stopped him?
The thought sprang spontaneously from my mind. Ginevra looked at me, nodding almost imperceptibly, replying in a conversation no one else could take part in.
Thank you
, I thought, so only she could hear.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked me out loud.

“It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone,” I reassured them all, forcing myself to speak convincingly. The truth was I wasn’t sure. Something inside me continued to say it wasn’t true: the memory of how ferociously Mustang had looked at me. He’d wanted
me
and nobody else, I could feel it in my gut. “I just happened to be standing in his way, that’s all,” I added, trying to persuade myself as well as the others. “If it had been Peter instead of me, I’m sure it wouldn’t have gone any differently,” I lied. Peter shuddered at the thought.

The others were already convinced: the one I needed to reassure was Ginevra.

“Except he would have had to go home and change!” Ginevra taunted him in an effort to relieve the tension. Peter shot her a withering look and she took it back. “You’re right. It’s more likely you would have fainted,” she added. She’d probably read this in his mind, because when Peter heard her say it his eyes went wide. “Come on! No need for you to get mad.”

She rested her hand on Peter’s shoulder but he continued to glare at her. He didn’t realize Ginevra could hear all the insults he was keeping to himself out of politeness.

“I was only kidding!” she said, amused.

“Wow. You’re hilarious,” he shot back sourly.

Faith still couldn’t get over it. “It’s so weird! Nothing like this has ever happened with Mustang. He was calm before you showed up and he’s usually gentle with everyone. My little sister rides him without any problems,” she said, mortified. I stopped listening to her and focused on the strange uneasiness stirring in my gut.

“The important thing is that it’s over,” Jake said, “and nobody got hurt.” He walked toward the car with the others. I started to follow him, but Faith held me back, still visibly shaken. She slowed her pace and we fell behind the rest of the group.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty!” I insisted, already assuming that was what she wanted to say. “I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about it.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” she said point-blank. I slowed down even more, surprised. “It’s not your time of the month by any chance, is it?” she whispered, almost embarrassed.

“Am I having my period? No. Why?”

“I don’t know if it’s actually possible. I’m no expert. My horse is female.” She hesitated a moment before going on, encouraged by how curious I looked. “It’s the only explanation that comes to my mind. Mustang’s reaction was so unusual because, well, I mean, I think the smell of blood might have set him off.” She rolled her eyes and imitated her dad’s voice. “He’s a stallion.”

“I’m sorry to prove your theory wrong but I’m not on my period. Besides, honestly, I don’t think it’s possible. I mean, come on!” I exclaimed. Her idea was crazy. “Mustang must have just been in a bad mood,” I said, trying to reassure her. “It happens to everybody, doesn’t it? Or maybe it
was
something about the way I smell.” I pulled the edge of my collar to my nose and sniffed it. “Stop torturing yourself and let’s go. Nothing happened. That’s all that matters.”

“Right,” she said, still shaken.

“Ready to have some fun?” I cheered to the group as I strode over to them.

“Well, at least you’re in a good mood again,” one of the guys said from the back seat.

Ginevra and I exchanged glances. Only she knew the truth.