High Hurdles Collection Two by Lauraine Snelling Page B

She spit, then caught water in her hand to rinse her mouth.
    â€œYou still in here.”
    She spit out the rinse. “So?”
    â€œSo we gotta go.” They danced in place.
    Groan number three. “Look, guys …” She caught the look of distress on their faces and threw up her hands. “Okay, I’ll leave.” I’ve given them baths and dressed them. But now I have to leave . She shook her head and went to her own room to dress. The day was growing longer instead of shorter.
    By the time Lindy dropped DJ off at the high school, her ears were ringing from the constant chatter and her cheek was sticky from the Bs’ good-bye kisses. Her mother waved good-bye with a cheerful smile.
    â€œHave a good day, dear.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œBye, DJ! Bye!”
    She turned from the curb to catch one of the high-school boys laughing. Was it at her? She could feel the heat in her face, and this time it wasn’t from running a temperature.
    â€œHey, glad to see you could make it.” Amy flashed her a grin. She looked again. “What’s up?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œYour face—it’s all red.”
    DJ shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”
    â€œSure, I do.” Amy switched a couple of things from her backpack to her locker. The warning bell rang. Together they walked toward their homeroom. “So?”
    â€œYou’re used to little brothers and sisters.”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œI’m not.” DJ sighed. “They are so … so busy. They talk all the time, they run up and down the stairs, they need the bathroom, they …”
    â€œThey fight?”
    DJ frowned and shook her head. “I guess not, or at least not much.”
    â€œThen you’ve got it made. Fighting’s the worst.”
    They slipped in through the door just as the final bell rang.
    â€œWould you ladies like to take your seats?” Mr. Deushane arched an eyebrow. “Welcome back, Miss Randall.”
    The flames fanned her face again. Couldn’t he just call her DJ like she asked? But, no, Mr. Deushane called all students by their last names, with a Mister or Miss in front. “Thank you.”
    â€œEveryone brought their homework?”
    DJ breathed a sigh of relief. She’d gotten all of hers done, even the makeup. She passed her papers forward with the rest of the students. Since they were studying nutrition, she’d drawn the new pyramid for the food groups, adding chocolate in parentheses at the bottom.
    When he’d collected all the papers, he handed out one of his own. Sporadic groans rose at the word quiz at the top of the paper. “All right, everyone.” He raised his hands as if directing a choir. “Together, and on three. One, two, three.” Now everyone groaned in sync.
    DJ smothered a giggle. While some of the kids made fun of Mr. Deushane behind his back, she thought he was funny, no matter how dull the topic might seem.

    When DJ got to art class, she breathed in clay, oil paint, acrylic, glue, paint thinner—all the odors that when mingled together said art room . To DJ’s mind, the smell of the art room was second-best to horse. Gran’s rose water came in a close third.
    â€œYou got over the bug, huh?” Mrs. Adams, the teacher, asked. “Glad to see you back.” As the others straggled in, she donned her paint-smeared smock and began moving from station to station to check on individual projects. The still life of an empty picture frame, a cylindrical terra cotta pitcher, and a purple silk iris in a clear water glass still graced the top of a draped table. All the students were working in pastels, so the smell of chalk dust tickled DJ’s nose, making her sneeze. She took her pad out of her cubbyhole and perched on her stool. Since she’d been gone a whole week, she was just beginning the drawing.
    She’d finished roughing in the outlines when