Summer of the Wolves (2 page)

I
followed Diana up some rickety stairs to the loft bedroom we’d be sharing this week. Now that I saw this place I could see why Daddy kept joking around about the hot tub and espresso machine. The cabin had an A-shaped ceiling, and the inside walls didn’t even have any paint on them. They were this rough yellowish wood with scattered brown knots that looked like a bunch of bull’s-eyes in different sizes. If Mama saw this place? Honestly, she wouldn’t even unpack her bags.

I leaned over the loft railing and saw the sofa below, covered with a ratty old Indian blanket. “Hey, check it out,” I said, hoping Diana and I would get to talking. “We can look down over this railin’ right into the livin’ room. Hey, we can drop water balloons on Daddy and Lynn if they try to make out or anything.”

“Who cares if they make out?” Diana’s eyes, when she looked at me, were kind of mocking.

“Not me, just kiddin’,” I said, real quick. “So, which bed do you want? You can pick first.” I was starting to feel real disappointed because I’d hoped Diana and I would get along. I mean, if we got along, this week could be so much fun.

“I’ll take the bed by the wall.” Diana heaved her suitcase onto the bed and dumped it out. She hardly had any clothes. There were three pairs of jeans, two sweatshirts, a few T-shirts, a pile of underwear, and about ten pairs of rolled up socks.

I brought an outfit for every day. And some of mine—not
all
of mine, but some—had good labels. Mama
loves
labels. Before Daddy married Lynn, she and Diana had lived in a condo in a neighborhood that Mama said was on the wrong side of the tracks. Before this trip Mama had even said a couple things about Lynn and Diana that in my humble opinion might fall into the category of “catty.” But Lynn had been really
sweet to me and I always agreed more with Daddy’s way of looking at things. That is, you shouldn’t judge people by their stuff.

Daddy had said to try to be patient with Diana. Diana had to take some kind of medicine. Daddy had sat down with me before we came and we’d talked about being loving and understanding. “Gettin’ along with people is easy for you,” he had said. “But not for her.” I was going to try to do what he said.

“I’m taller, I’m taking the top drawer.” Diana grabbed her pile of clothes and stuffed them into the drawer. A few socks and pairs of underwear fell on the floor. She threw a book on her pillow and left her empty suitcase on the bed.

Well, that was kind of rude. And the way she was throwing stuff around was really getting on my nerves. I took some deep breaths. I found the Tums that Mama hid in my suitcase and popped one in my mouth.

Keep being nice, the way Daddy said. Make conversation
.

I closed the drawer Diana had left open and stacked my own shorts, camis, and T-shirts in the bottom drawer.

“So,” I pointed at the book on the bed. “Is Man o’ War a horse?”

“
Was
a horse. He’s been dead about a hundred years.”
Diana sat on the bed and kicked off her sandals. One landed on the bed, and the other flopped on the floor.

“He must be pretty famous.”

“Duh.” She pulled out these disgusting worn-out cowboy boots (mine were brand new red leather) and sat on the bed to put them on.

I tried again. “Maybe I could read it after you finish.”

“After I finish I’m probably going to start it again. I’ve read some parts six times.” Diana had two pairs of those heavy socks on and she was shoving her left foot down into one of the boots.

“Oh.”
Now what?
I kind of felt like crying, so I turned around and started lining my lotions and nail polishes on one side of the dresser. “I’ll keep my stuff on this side.”

“Take the whole thing, I don’t care,” Diana stomped on the floor to shove her foot down into the boot. When her boot heel hit the floor, it sounded like someone hammering.

“Hey!” Daddy’s voice drifted up the stairs. “Somebody doing carpentry work up there?”

Diana kept right on stomping.

Real slowly, I pulled my new jeans from the bottom of my suitcase. They had patterns of sparkly multicolored rhinestones on the pockets and seams. I’d begged Mama to buy them for the trip. “Will these be okay for riding?” The minute I said it I knew they weren’t.

Diana snorted. “Only if you want everybody at the barn to laugh their heads off.”

I turned around and put the jeans back in the drawer so Diana wouldn’t see my face. “Well,” I said after a minute. “Maybe I just won’t ride.”

Diana stood with one boot on and her other foot halfway into the other. “What the heck will you do all day?”

I shrugged. At art camp last summer, there had been drawing in the morning and painting in the afternoon. I’d loved sitting at the pottery wheel after dinner with my fingers caked with cool gray slip, listening to my iPod, getting lost in the music. “Lynn said they might have a pottery or quilting class I could take.”

“Quilting? What are you, like, an old lady? And why do you call my mother ‘Lynn,’ like you’re good friends with her or something?”

I sure wished Diana would quit trying to pick a fight. Who did she think Daddy and Lynn were trying to make happy when they came to a ranch, anyway? Daddy must have totally forgotten about that time three years ago when I fell off that horse and dislocated my shoulder. When that doctor shoved my shoulder back into place I thought I’d faint dead away from the pain. Nobody had asked
me
if I wanted to come to a ranch for our vacation. Because if they’d asked me, we’d be
at the beach lying in the sun one day and going shopping the next.

“Well, I thought you’d be mad if I called her ‘Mama.’” I kept my voice even. “Besides, I already have a mama.”

“What about evil stepmom?” Diana made a face, then fell back on the bed, stuck her foot straight up in the air, and pulled on the bootstraps with a huge loud groan.

Maybe it would be a good idea to change the subject. “Hey, I can French braid your hair if you want. My friend Ally taught me.”

Diana started stomping again. “Are you kidding? You do that and my hair will end up looking like stalks of straw in a rubber band.”

“I bet it looks great. C’mon, I’m good at it.”

“Nah.” With one more grunt, Diana shoved her right foot into the boot. “I’m going to the barn!”

“I thought you couldn’t ride until tomorrow.”

Without answering, Diana tripped down the stairs and out the screen door, letting it slam behind her.

“Fine, don’t invite me; I don’t want to go to that dirty ol’ barn anyway,” I said to the empty room. People in my youth group at church talked about having stepsisters and stepbrothers. They said sometimes it’s hard to get along, but I liked to think that I could get along with just about anybody. Moving all over the
south because of Daddy moving up at the accounting firm had taught me how to find places to fit in. But you’d have to walk around wearing a halo to get along with Diana.

I went in the bathroom, stepping over Diana’s clothes, and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I’d thought a lot about how weird this vacation might be. When Daddy used to live in our same house, he went to work and back and hardly noticed me except to pat me on the head once in a while. Now it was like he went out of his way to pay attention to me. Because of everything going on in the family, there was this
pressure. Pressure to be perfect
.

Like when you blow a big bubble with those little plastic wands, it looks so shiny and perfect, with the rainbows reflecting, but it’s nothing but a thin film of soap. Any minute it could pop.

After I lined up my hairbrush and toothbrush and barrettes, I tried to ignore Diana’s sandals on the floor, but then I picked them up and put them in the closet by her bed. Downstairs, Daddy and Lynn were still unpacking. I told them I was going to look around, and they (naturally) suggested that Diana and I go together. I told them Diana had already headed over to the barn. Apparently they were preoccupied when she slammed the screen door.

“I’m being patient with Diana,” I told Daddy when Lynn went outside to dump the ice from the cooler. “
Extremely
patient.”

Daddy draped his arm across my shoulders and pulled me close to him. “Hey, come on, sport. It’s only the first day. You have to give these things time.”

“Oooh-k-a-ay,” I said, making it sound like it was going to be a lot of work. I headed outside our cabin door and followed the gravel path toward the lodge.

This fall I would start living with Daddy every other week and go to Diana’s school. He was fixing a room for me in their new house, and he said we’d have a party so I could get to know people. I could tell Diana didn’t want to. Diana was a year older than me, but we’d both be in eighth grade. Daddy said Diana had to repeat third grade when she changed schools after her parents got divorced. He said for me not to make a big deal about that. That kind of hurt my feelings. How could he even think I’d do that? Especially when I know how it feels to go through a divorce.

As I approached the lodge, I saw three oak trees spreading a big old blanket of shade around them. Under one of the trees this tanned boy with spiky, light-colored hair was throwing horseshoes all by himself. He was skinny. Super-skinny, and I heard Mama’s voice in my head,
“He’d have to run around in
the shower to get wet.”
As I walked by, the boy threw a wild shot that flew over the stake and hit the path in front of me.

“Hey, grab it!”

I reached for the horseshoe and missed, and it started tumbling down the hill. The boy ran in front of me, practically
colliding
with me, and finally caught the horseshoe when it slowed down and fell flat.

He walked over and gave me a big old grin. “What can I say? I’m not on the Olympic horseshoe team.” He gave his head a little toss and rolled his eyes. “Actually, I don’t even know if horseshoes
is
an Olympic sport.”

I laughed. “No.”

“Oi say, old chop,” he said, faking an English accent. “Could I interest you in a game?” He was looking at me like he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Well … I guess so.” I put my hands in my back pockets, following him up the hill to the horseshoe pit. He was pretty cute. “But you have to teach me.”

“Splendid!” he said with the fake accent again, then switched back to his regular voice. “Hey, it’s not rocket science.”

His name was Nick. He taught me to pitch the horseshoe underhanded in the direction of the stake. After he threw two in a row right around the stake, a lightbulb went on in my head.

“Hey, did you throw that horseshoe at me on purpose?” I put my hands on my hips.

“No way!” He gave this twitch and threw a horseshoe in the complete opposite direction of the stake. “Oops.”

He held his hands out in a
“What can I say?”
gesture, and I couldn’t help laughing at his goofy grin. We kept on playing, and after a couple turns I got a horseshoe close enough to earn one measly point. I found out Nick was an only child and was at the ranch by himself with his parents. Then I asked what I really wanted to know.

“Are you a good rider?”

“No way,” Nick said.

“You’re probably just saying that.”

“Seriously,” Nick said. “I’ve only been horseback riding once in my entire life and that time I got on the horse backward.” Nick’s mouth twitched when he said this. He had exactly five freckles on his nose.

“I saw that twitch!” I couldn’t stop laughing.

All of a sudden the week was starting to look like a whole lot more fun.

M
y boots made scuffing noises and stirred up puffs of orange dust as I headed down the hill to the barn. Stephanie and Mom could go make a pot holder together. They could knock themselves out.

During Mom and Norm’s honeymoon, I’d gone to Florida and stayed with Dad and his girlfriend, Susan, and got to hang around their apartment every day. Dad said next visit maybe he’d take a day off work and we’d go to Sea World. Dad didn’t nag me about my pills like
Mom and Norm did. He never nagged me about what I had for lunch. Whether I’d taken a shower. I’d basically done whatever I wanted.

Twice last month I texted Dad to see if I could come stay the rest of the summer. When I turned fifteen next month I could get a work permit. But I hadn’t heard anything back. Why hadn’t Dad texted me back?

Mom said Norm really cared about me. She said that when someone reminded you to eat breakfast and take your pills or not to interrupt people’s conversations, it meant they cared about you. Blah, blah, blah. I know the pills make me calmer, but they make me feel so tired and boring. Like I have no feelings. Sometimes I’d rather be mad.

When I got close enough to the barn I breathed in the smells of clean hay, the polished leather saddles and harnesses. One of the horses inside nickered softly. Maybe it was Copper, saying hello.

There was something about that horse. I couldn’t wait to ride him.

Horses didn’t ask questions like, “How are things going at school right now? Are you feeling more able to control yourself these days?” Horses took you for who you were. My shrink came up with this thing where I’m supposed to pick a number for my mood between one and ten. One being basically catatonically calm,
i.e., dead. Ten being totally hyper and ready to self-destruct in ten seconds. Five being where you want to be. I call it the Moronic Mood-o-Meter. Anytime I’m anywhere near a barn, I’m a five.

Two barn kittens were playing by the barn gate. One was tiger-striped and the other was black with a white face and paws. They were so cute! On a low stone wall beside the fence slept a big tiger-striped mother cat. One of the kittens jumped up on the wall. He shoved his little nose into the loose fur of her stomach, trying to nurse. With one swat of her paw, the mother cat knocked the kitten off the wall. The other kitten jumped up and tried to nurse. The mother just stood up and left. The poor kitten dangled from her teat as she walked away, dragging him for a few steps. Then he fell off the wall too. Both kittens tried to climb the wall to try again, but the mother ran away.

“Do you have a mean mom?” I sat on the wall and scooped them both up. They mewed, high-pitched, and their tiny pliable claws pricked my skin. Their noses were pink and moist. I held them for a few minutes, feeling their small warm chests vibrate as they purred. Then they jumped from my lap and ran off looking for their mother again.

I ducked through the barn door. Waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside. The barn was laid out
like a “T,” with the tack room and the office at the top of the T, and the stalls in rows at a right angle. Beams of light streamed through windows above the stalls, making the place seem kind of heavenly. A woman was in the office behind a glass window on the phone. Otherwise I had the barn to myself. I turned the corner and headed down the aisle between the stalls, looking for the little chestnut.

Most of the horses were eating and only cocked their ears when I walked by. At the end of the row on the right, one head poked over the door of a stall.

It was him! I caught my breath when I saw his beautiful face. He had to have some Arabian in him. I’d read that Arabians could go up to five days without water because of their desert heritage. When I got close, he tossed his head. I remembered to slow down and talk to him quietly.

“Hey, there, Copper, buddy, what are you doing? You are such a pretty boy! Yes, a very pretty boy.”

He watched me come closer. His eyelids kind of closed. I held my palm out for him to nuzzle. Shoot, why hadn’t I remembered to find some sugar or a carrot? His muzzle was so soft, but he was nervous. I tried stroking his forehead, but he snorted and tossed his head.

Head shy.

I held my palm still, kept talking. He snorted again,
then walked to the back of his stall, but he turned to look at me. A good sign.

I talked some more. “You don’t trust me, do you Copper? It’s okay. It’s hard to trust people.”

Copper took a step toward me, stopped, and tossed his head.

“I would never hurt you. You seem a little wild, but I can tell you’re a very sweet boy.” Copper walked slowly across the stall. Put his head over the gate. Let me scratch between his ears.