No Small Thing by Natale Ghent

what happened after I ran out of the house. Ma must have been pretty worried to allow Cid to walk here this late at night by herself, and this makes me feel terrible again. I take my time in the barn because I’m loath to leave Smokey behind and, to be honest, I’m not looking forward to seeing Ma. I know everything is fine now, but there’s an awful thing that comes with feeling sorry and that’s the fear of facing the one you’ve wronged. I’m sure the words I said to Ma are still echoing in the air back home.
    Before we go, we walk through the barn, looking at all the horses. There is a big quarter horse mare named Silver, a Morgan colt named Rush, a couple of skinny palominos with no names, an old rodeo buckskin named Pip and the big chestnutnamed Flag. At the very back of the barn in a room off by itself is a huge black gelding named Jed. He has a Roman nose and wild eyes. He snorts through the rungs of his stall, pacing restlessly back and forth.
    “He doesn’t have any hay,” Cid says.
    I look at the tack box by the stall. It has Ted Henry’s name roughly gouged into the wood.” Figures,” I mumble. I get a few flakes of hay from the loft and push them into Jed’s bin. I get some water and pour it into his bucket, then sprinkle a bit on the hay. When Cid is satisfied that Jed is comfortable, we’re ready to leave.
    As we walk home I play out the impending scene with Ma over and over in my head. But it doesn’t matter how many times I run it through my mind, I still feel bad. Cid walks along like everything’s fine, because for her, it is. She didn’t say those terrible words. She talks about
Star Wars
and how she’d like to see it again and how there’s this kid in town who’s seen the movie over 100 times and the people at the movie theatre don’t even charge him to see it any more. She goes on and on like this until we reach the house. I hesitate before opening the door.
    “Wait a minute, Nat,” Cid says. Then she does the nicest thing she’s ever done. She reaches overand gently brushes some straw from my hair and smoothes it on both sides with her hands. “Okay.”
    Ma is waiting in the kitchen when I come in. She’s sitting at the table, her face sober, her eyes swollen and red.
    “Ma …” I start to say, but she waves me quiet.
    She speaks like she’s been rehearsing the words all night. “I don’t blame you for the way you feel, Nathaniel. I’ve tried really hard to make a life for you kids. I’ve tried hard to make up for Dad leaving. I guess I fooled myself into thinking that things with you kids were all right, that I’d managed to—”
    “Ma, it’s not your fault …” I say, but she quiets me again. She adjusts the tie on her house robe, and I’m afraid she’s going to start to cry, but she doesn’t.
    “I’ve been thinking long and hard about that pony. I was so upset with you kids being lost, I wasn’t thinking straight. And when I saw Queenie, I almost died. You’re a young man, Nathaniel, and I trust that you will be responsible.”
    “I will, Ma. I’ve got it all figured out ….”
    “If you feel you can be responsible, then you can keep the pony. I’ve really tried to make things okay for you kids—”
    Her voice cracks and I can’t take any more. Irush over to where she’s sitting and throw myself at her feet. And even though I’m twelve, I bury my head in her lap the way I used to when I was a little kid, and it’s me who starts to cry. “Oh, Ma, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

chapter 7
a violent battle
    Queenie isn’t allowed to go to the barn until her collarbone is mended. That’ll be a good month or so. She’s sore as anything about this fact but knows better than to fight with Ma after all we’ve been through. The crazy thing is, in the days Cid and I have been riding our skateboards to the stable together we haven’t fought once. She’s even stopped bugging me about taking hay all the time to feed Smokey. I know she hates that I