aren’t “nice.” But sometimes it feels like they’re afraid they’ll catch cancer from me if they get too close.
By about three o’clock I can’t wait any longer, and I go out to the barn to see Chestnut. Rex tags along. I know he misses Wes.
“Good to see you up, Kat,” Dad calls. He’s digging a garden on the west side of the house, and he puts down his little shovel.
“Hi, Dad. I’m going to check on Chestnut.”
He nods and acts like he’s going back to digging. But I can see him peeking at me. He’s a terrible pretender, but I appreciate the effort.
Kitten prances toward me when I walk into the barn. Her tail is high, waving slowly. “What are you up to, Kitten?” I ask her. She eyes Rex, who knows enough to keep his distance.
I head for the tack room and pound up two bute tablets, dump them into the coffee can, and mix it with molasses and oats. When I deliver the mix to Chestnut, Kitten is sitting on the pony’s back. She’s curled up, with her paws under her. I wish I had a camera.
“Hey, Chestnut.” I pour the molasses mixture into the feed trough. “Looks like you got yourself a new friend.”
Chestnut dives in and cleans his trough.
“Did you see that, Rex?” I bend down to pet the dog’s soft head. “I did good.” It’s crazy to feel this proud about feeding the pony, but I do.
I’m about to go inside when the van drives up. Mom stops under the oak tree, and Wes and Dakota get out. I don’t see Hank. And anyway, I thought he took the pickup.
I walk toward the van. “Where’s Hank?”
Wes stomps by me. “You’d have to ask Hank. He’s too popular to be bothered with us. And I’m not riding with Annie again. I’ll tell you that. I’ll walk first. Or take the stupid bus.” He storms into the house, hollering, “You think I need people seeing me get picked up by my mommy?”
Dakota shrugs. She and Mom and I walk inside together.
Wes has already gone upstairs. Mom pours two glasses of lemonade and heads up after him. Dakota pours herself a big glass of lemonade and collapses onto the couch. I take the other corner of the couch and start pumping her about her day.
“Did you get to know anybody in your classes?” I ask. “Do you have any classes with Alicia?” Alicia and Dakota know each other from church.
“I didn’t see her,” Dakota answers.
“What about lunch?” I ask. “Who did you eat with?”
“I thought this girl, Charlotte something, was being really cool asking me to sit with her and her friend at their table. She introduced me to everybody. Then she started asking me questions.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Wrong,” Dakota says.
Outside I hear the crunch of gravel. It’s probably Hank, but I don’t want to get up and look. I think Dakota needs to talk. “What kind of questions did she ask you?”
“Let’s see,” Dakota begins, and I know this isn’t going to be good. “‘Are you really Hank’s foster sister?’ And ‘What’s Hank really like? What kind of music does he like? Is Hank going out for football? Is he dating anyone?’”
“Ah,” I say, understanding why she’s so mad. “Sorry, Dakota.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” She gets up from the couch and starts for the stairs. “Anyway, thanks for listening, Kat. Glad you’re feeling better. You were white as a ghost this morning.”
Mom comes down the stairs as Dakota goes up. She kicks off her shoes and collapses in the big chair.
“Did Hank and Wes have a fight?” I ask her.
“No. Not really. Hank was going out with some friends after school, so I said I’d pick up Wes and Dakota. I didn’t think about how Wes would feel.”
I pull back the curtain and see Hank’s truck parked by the barn. But there’s no sign of Hank.
Then I get a horrible feeling. What if he’s doing chores? What if he feeds Chestnut . . . again?
I dash to the door.
“Kat? What’s the matter?” Mom calls.
“Nothing! Be right back.” Chestnut’s had all the medicine he
By about three o’clock I can’t wait any longer, and I go out to the barn to see Chestnut. Rex tags along. I know he misses Wes.
“Good to see you up, Kat,” Dad calls. He’s digging a garden on the west side of the house, and he puts down his little shovel.
“Hi, Dad. I’m going to check on Chestnut.”
He nods and acts like he’s going back to digging. But I can see him peeking at me. He’s a terrible pretender, but I appreciate the effort.
Kitten prances toward me when I walk into the barn. Her tail is high, waving slowly. “What are you up to, Kitten?” I ask her. She eyes Rex, who knows enough to keep his distance.
I head for the tack room and pound up two bute tablets, dump them into the coffee can, and mix it with molasses and oats. When I deliver the mix to Chestnut, Kitten is sitting on the pony’s back. She’s curled up, with her paws under her. I wish I had a camera.
“Hey, Chestnut.” I pour the molasses mixture into the feed trough. “Looks like you got yourself a new friend.”
Chestnut dives in and cleans his trough.
“Did you see that, Rex?” I bend down to pet the dog’s soft head. “I did good.” It’s crazy to feel this proud about feeding the pony, but I do.
I’m about to go inside when the van drives up. Mom stops under the oak tree, and Wes and Dakota get out. I don’t see Hank. And anyway, I thought he took the pickup.
I walk toward the van. “Where’s Hank?”
Wes stomps by me. “You’d have to ask Hank. He’s too popular to be bothered with us. And I’m not riding with Annie again. I’ll tell you that. I’ll walk first. Or take the stupid bus.” He storms into the house, hollering, “You think I need people seeing me get picked up by my mommy?”
Dakota shrugs. She and Mom and I walk inside together.
Wes has already gone upstairs. Mom pours two glasses of lemonade and heads up after him. Dakota pours herself a big glass of lemonade and collapses onto the couch. I take the other corner of the couch and start pumping her about her day.
“Did you get to know anybody in your classes?” I ask. “Do you have any classes with Alicia?” Alicia and Dakota know each other from church.
“I didn’t see her,” Dakota answers.
“What about lunch?” I ask. “Who did you eat with?”
“I thought this girl, Charlotte something, was being really cool asking me to sit with her and her friend at their table. She introduced me to everybody. Then she started asking me questions.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Wrong,” Dakota says.
Outside I hear the crunch of gravel. It’s probably Hank, but I don’t want to get up and look. I think Dakota needs to talk. “What kind of questions did she ask you?”
“Let’s see,” Dakota begins, and I know this isn’t going to be good. “‘Are you really Hank’s foster sister?’ And ‘What’s Hank really like? What kind of music does he like? Is Hank going out for football? Is he dating anyone?’”
“Ah,” I say, understanding why she’s so mad. “Sorry, Dakota.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” She gets up from the couch and starts for the stairs. “Anyway, thanks for listening, Kat. Glad you’re feeling better. You were white as a ghost this morning.”
Mom comes down the stairs as Dakota goes up. She kicks off her shoes and collapses in the big chair.
“Did Hank and Wes have a fight?” I ask her.
“No. Not really. Hank was going out with some friends after school, so I said I’d pick up Wes and Dakota. I didn’t think about how Wes would feel.”
I pull back the curtain and see Hank’s truck parked by the barn. But there’s no sign of Hank.
Then I get a horrible feeling. What if he’s doing chores? What if he feeds Chestnut . . . again?
I dash to the door.
“Kat? What’s the matter?” Mom calls.
“Nothing! Be right back.” Chestnut’s had all the medicine he
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