would catch up in the course of eighteen days of vacation.
About the only fun at school for that whole week was lunch, and even then, we spent a lot of time listening to Sophia explain geometry problems to Stella, who listened carefully, but always seemed amazed at what she heard. At least, she was no longer getting an F or even a D—thanks to Sophia, she was getting a C-plus. I liked geometry. I thought it was pretty easy to picture what the teacher was talking about, and as for the numbers, you just had to memorize them. Even pi you only had to memorize out to four decimal places—3.1415. It was like a good phone number—3+1=4+1=5. Sophia’s phone number was like that, 835-1448: 8–3=5–1=4+4=8. I didn’t tell anyone that that was how I memorized stuff. I thought it sounded too much like Kyle Gonzalez.
The other interesting thing at school was that Leslie had a boyfriend, and he was a Condor. True, he was a basketball Condor (and taller than she was) rather than a football Condor (the basketball team had had a 6–3 season, and so they were pretty popular). He was a junior. His name was Ronny Wood, and sometimes he sat with us at lunch. Leslie always sat with us. She said that if he wanted to have lunch with her, he had to sit with us, too. He was a guard on the basketball team, and as a sophomore had averaged fifteen points a game. Leslie said that this was good. He had a driver’s license, and he brought her to school every morning by seven o’clock. They ran at least two miles around the track before changing and going to class.
All in all, I liked high school better than I thought I was going to, but there was a lot to think about. You couldn’t just roll out of bed and put some clothes on and go, making sure you were clean and your hair was combed. You had to have made up your mind about all sorts of things, like what group you wanted to look like (even though you might not be a part of that group), whether you wanted to stick out or fade into the woodwork (I wanted to fade into the woodwork), whether you wanted the teachers to like you,
really
like you, or just get along with you. The high school was big, and there were a lot of ways to be famous there, not all of them good. Stella and Gloria said that you had to
seize
your opportunity, and talked a lot about what opportunities there were. So there were plenty of reasons I was glad to see the end of the semester. No one in my family had had to worry about any of this—Mom and Dad had gone to a country school in Oklahoma that had about ten students of all ages, and Danny had quit (after goofing off most of the time before that).
Chapter 4
T HURSDAY NIGHT , JUST BEFORE DINNER , D ANNY ROLLED UP TO the gate in his truck, pulling a strange trailer—not Jake Morrisson’s and not Jerry Gardino’s. He honked, and since I was on the front porch, not having yet taken off my boots, I ran out and opened the gate. It was nearly dark. He pulled through, then I closed the gate, latched it, and ran after the truck and trailer to the barn. Dad was out haying the horses. Dad never stopped what he was doing in order to do something else—he said that “one thing at a time” was the key to success—but nevertheless, he did walk fast to the barn when he had thrown out the last flakes, pushing the wheelbarrow ahead of him.
By that time, Danny had the ramp of the trailer down andthe horse unfastened up front. He unhooked the tail chain, and the horse backed down the ramp, one step at a time. He was almost pure white, with only a few dapples around his knees. And he was huge, bigger than Dad’s favorite horse, Lester, that he’d sold to Mr. Jordan, bigger than Onyx, bigger than Pie in the Sky. At the bottom of the trailer, he lifted his head and flared his nostrils. He stood absolutely still. He was so white he seemed to shine in the dusk. Danny said, “Meet Gee Whiz.” Then he added, “By Hyperion, out of Tilla, by Birkhahn.”
The back door opened, and Mom
About the only fun at school for that whole week was lunch, and even then, we spent a lot of time listening to Sophia explain geometry problems to Stella, who listened carefully, but always seemed amazed at what she heard. At least, she was no longer getting an F or even a D—thanks to Sophia, she was getting a C-plus. I liked geometry. I thought it was pretty easy to picture what the teacher was talking about, and as for the numbers, you just had to memorize them. Even pi you only had to memorize out to four decimal places—3.1415. It was like a good phone number—3+1=4+1=5. Sophia’s phone number was like that, 835-1448: 8–3=5–1=4+4=8. I didn’t tell anyone that that was how I memorized stuff. I thought it sounded too much like Kyle Gonzalez.
The other interesting thing at school was that Leslie had a boyfriend, and he was a Condor. True, he was a basketball Condor (and taller than she was) rather than a football Condor (the basketball team had had a 6–3 season, and so they were pretty popular). He was a junior. His name was Ronny Wood, and sometimes he sat with us at lunch. Leslie always sat with us. She said that if he wanted to have lunch with her, he had to sit with us, too. He was a guard on the basketball team, and as a sophomore had averaged fifteen points a game. Leslie said that this was good. He had a driver’s license, and he brought her to school every morning by seven o’clock. They ran at least two miles around the track before changing and going to class.
All in all, I liked high school better than I thought I was going to, but there was a lot to think about. You couldn’t just roll out of bed and put some clothes on and go, making sure you were clean and your hair was combed. You had to have made up your mind about all sorts of things, like what group you wanted to look like (even though you might not be a part of that group), whether you wanted to stick out or fade into the woodwork (I wanted to fade into the woodwork), whether you wanted the teachers to like you,
really
like you, or just get along with you. The high school was big, and there were a lot of ways to be famous there, not all of them good. Stella and Gloria said that you had to
seize
your opportunity, and talked a lot about what opportunities there were. So there were plenty of reasons I was glad to see the end of the semester. No one in my family had had to worry about any of this—Mom and Dad had gone to a country school in Oklahoma that had about ten students of all ages, and Danny had quit (after goofing off most of the time before that).
Chapter 4
T HURSDAY NIGHT , JUST BEFORE DINNER , D ANNY ROLLED UP TO the gate in his truck, pulling a strange trailer—not Jake Morrisson’s and not Jerry Gardino’s. He honked, and since I was on the front porch, not having yet taken off my boots, I ran out and opened the gate. It was nearly dark. He pulled through, then I closed the gate, latched it, and ran after the truck and trailer to the barn. Dad was out haying the horses. Dad never stopped what he was doing in order to do something else—he said that “one thing at a time” was the key to success—but nevertheless, he did walk fast to the barn when he had thrown out the last flakes, pushing the wheelbarrow ahead of him.
By that time, Danny had the ramp of the trailer down andthe horse unfastened up front. He unhooked the tail chain, and the horse backed down the ramp, one step at a time. He was almost pure white, with only a few dapples around his knees. And he was huge, bigger than Dad’s favorite horse, Lester, that he’d sold to Mr. Jordan, bigger than Onyx, bigger than Pie in the Sky. At the bottom of the trailer, he lifted his head and flared his nostrils. He stood absolutely still. He was so white he seemed to shine in the dusk. Danny said, “Meet Gee Whiz.” Then he added, “By Hyperion, out of Tilla, by Birkhahn.”
The back door opened, and Mom
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