Buckskin Bandit (8 page)

Ms. Brumby, our English teacher, was dressed as spring. Her silky shirt was the green of an oak tree in May. Her skirt, jacket, scarf, and shoes were light green, like spring buds on a poplar.

I still can't look at our English teacher without thinking of a real Brumby—the bony, Roman-nosed, Australian scrub horse that most people have given up on training.

I watched Ms. Brumby write on the chalkboard in perfect block letters:
Title, Introduction, Thesis, How-to paragraphs, Conclusion.
I felt an essay—or even worse, a speech—coming on.

Kaylee, in the back row, was wearing khakis and a short-sleeved, red sweater that made her shiny hair look even darker. She whispered something to me, but I couldn't understand. Summer and her herd were making too much noise.

“What did you say?” I whispered back.

“Winifred? Is there something you'd like to share with the class?” Ms. Brumby roared.

I faced front. “Um . . . no, ma'am.”

Behind me, I heard Summer's annoying laugh, followed by the giggles of her followers.

“Then let's begin.” Ms. Brumby's spring green high heels clicked when she crossed to the stuff she'd written on the board. You would have thought the words had been typed by a giant typewriter. “These are the parts of the speech you will prepare for your science-fair projects.”

Speech? I raised my hand for probably the third time all year in this class.

Ms. Brumby nodded at me. The toe of her pointy green shoe tapped, as if to hurry me.

“Do we—” I cleared my throat—“I mean . . . a speech? I thought we just had to do an invention for extra credit.”

“Well, you do have to prepare a speech, regardless of your participation in the science fair.” She smiled at the rest of the class. “For those of you who will be showing your projects, you will be asked by the judges to explain your invention.” She tapped the board. “This is how you will answer.”

My most hated thing in all of school is giving a speech. I get so nervous, my voice sounds like geese honking.

Even my inventor dad couldn't help me with this one.

Pat Haven was shuffling through her desk drawer when Kaylee and I walked in. We only had a minute, but we told her about going to Happy Trails and getting run off by Leonard.

“You girls listen here. Stay clear of Lazy Lenny. I mean it. I'll look in on Mrs. Pulaski and see what I can find out. Don't you worry.”

The bell had rung, and kids were throwing paper wads and pencils.

Kaylee and I took our seats. It makes me mad when kids in Pat's class are obnoxious and loud just because they know how nice Pat is.

It took a couple of minutes for her to get everybody's attention. “Let's hear about some of these grand inventions. Barker, you lead off.”

Barker did a great job explaining his dog greeting cards, even though he couldn't have had time to write a real speech already. He showed us one card, made out of rawhide chews, with Slim Jim beef jerky spelling out
Happy birthday to my best friend!

Other kids had pretty cool inventions too. Sal stood up. She and I had become friends when I gentled her Miniature Falabella, Amigo. Sal was wearing hoop earrings the size of Virginia and West Virginia. “This is so tight, you guys! I'm inventing earrings—”

“Hey, there's an original idea,” Brian interrupted.

Sal hit him over the head with her notebook. “Earrings that are also earplugs! Like in case someone, like Brian, is talking, and you want to shut him out.”

We applauded, and Sal sat down.

Grant Baines had a great invention. Back when school started in the fall, I'd worked with his horse, Eager Star. Since then, he'd won a dozen barrel races with his horse. Grant held up a battered can of grape soda and a straw as long as his forearm.

“My invention shirt has a pocket right here.” He pointed to the spot where he'd have to put his hand if we said the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. “The can fits in here. And with this straw, I can drink on the go. Look, Mom, no hands!” He pretended to swing a bat while sipping from his straw.

Almost everybody had something, although some of the inventions were kind of dumb, as if they'd just been thought up on the spot. Like a three-headed pen, or a notebook that opens from either side, or fake eyes so you look awake when you fall asleep in class.

Kaylee had a great idea. She was inventing a perfume using only spring wildflowers and grasses.

I was glad Pat didn't call on me.

“Summer? Why don't you share your idea?” Pat asked.

Summer glanced around the room, her gaze resting on me. “I don't know,” she said, like she wanted us to beg. “If anybody copied my idea, I'd refuse to have another idea so long as I live.”

Note to self: Seriously consider copying Summer's idea, whatever it is.

“I don't think we have to worry about that, Summer,” Pat said.

Summer ran her fingers through her long, blonde hair. Her fingertips didn't even slow down. I don't think my fingers could have made it through my wavy hair.

“Oh, all right,” Summer conceded, as if we'd begged and begged. “We all know how women rely on finger-combing their hair throughout the day.” She shook her hair, as if she were filming a shampoo commercial. “But fingers alone can't always do the job. What's a woman to do?”

She smiled around the room, especially at all the guys. “So I've invented tiny combs and brushes that fit on my fingertips. I can carry them in my purse.”

Girls
ooh
ed and
ah
ed. Even I had to admit it was a great idea, not that I'd ever buy one. But girls like Summer would love it. And there are a lot more girls like Summer than there are girls like me.

When the bell rang, Kaylee and I walked out together. We battled the stampede to the cafeteria and sat at my usual table, which was totally empty.

Kaylee bit into her egg-salad sandwich and opened her chips. “So what did you think of the other inventions?”

“I hate to admit it, but Summer's sounded pretty good,” I said.

“I wonder if she knows they sell finger-combs in Japan.” She poured from her thermos and took a drink. “My parents and I saw them when we traveled to Japan last summer.”

Japan? Lizzy and I hadn't been out of Ohio since we'd moved to Ashland.

We were quiet for a couple of minutes, eating our sandwiches. I said grace without making a big deal of it.
Thanks for my lunch, God. And I really don't think it's fair that Summer Spidell is inventing something Japanese people already have. Plus, could I go to Japan someday? or at least Pennsylvania? Amen.

Catman and M sat across from us and lined up their hot-lunch trays. Each tray held six peanut-butter sandwiches, no jelly. Catman grinned hello, and M raised an eyebrow at Kaylee and me, one each.

“Hey to you guys too,” I said.

Catman's blond hair hung straight to his shoulders, but M's long, black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. When I started at Ashland Middle School, I was kind of afraid of M, which was pretty dumb. He is definitely one of the good guys.

It was funny to watch M and Catman nibble the crusts off their sandwiches as if they were mice, racing.

“Anyway,” I said, turning back to Kaylee, “I've been thinking a lot about Happy Trails. We need to go back there after school and search for Bandit. That buckskin has to be hidden in one of those back pastures.”

“You heard what Pat said about Leonard, Winnie. He's not going to let us wander around looking for a horse he claims doesn't even exist.”

“Bummer,” Catman muttered.

Kaylee bit into her apple. “I know Bandit's there. Leonard claimed those other horses didn't exist either. Remember? He said he only had five horses . . . until he needed two more. The only reason he brought those horses out was so he could collect money from all seven riders.”

“That's it!” I exclaimed. “We'll do the same thing! We'll show up with eight riders. No way he'll turn down the extra money! He'll have to use Bandit!”

“Winnie, that's a great idea!” Kaylee's smile faded. “But where are we going to get eight riders?”

I was already thinking about that. “Okay. You and me, that's two. Lizzy's out.” Dad might have done it, but it would be hard enough to talk him into letting me have an hour away from the workshop. “Let's ask Sal and Hawk!”

Summer's table was just behind ours. I shouted over at them, “Hawk! Sal! Come here a minute!”

Hawk got up, and Summer grabbed her arm and said something, laughing. But Hawk didn't laugh along. Instead she came over and sat across from me, next to Catman. “I am glad for the chance to talk with you, Winnie. I was thinking. Your birthday is coming up, right?”

“Winnie,” Kaylee said, “you never told me. When's your birthday?”

“March 24th,” Hawk answered. “I was thinking it might be fun to have a horse birthday party Saturday, where those of us who have horses bring them.”

“What a great idea!” Kaylee exclaimed.

Something inside me felt heavy. “I don't do much for birthdays, Hawk. But thanks.”

“I would do all the organizing and—,” Hawk began.

“Look! Here's Sal!” I said, cutting her off. I knew Hawk meant well, and I was grateful. But I'd told her about my mom's accident. She should have understood.

Sal slid in next to M. “What's up?” I hadn't noticed before that she had a couple of new purple stripes in her red hair.

Catman and M just kept munching sandwiches.

“We need your help,” I started. “We need to get eight people together for a trail ride.”

“Hello? Unless Amigo grew overnight, he's still too little to ride,” Sal said.

“I think a trail ride sounds like fun,” Hawk said. “I have not ridden Towaco for a week.”

“Well, that's the thing,” Kaylee said. “We need you to ride one of the horses at Happy Trails.”

“Happy Trails?” Sal's face looked like she'd swallowed lemons. “That dump? I'd never let Amigo play with those horses—definitely wrong side of the tracks.”

“It's important, Sal.” I glanced at Kaylee and got a go-ahead nod. “We think they're mistreating one of their horses, maybe more. We need to see all eight horses, so we have to have eight riders.”

“Man, that burns me!” Sal reached over and ate one of M's pickles. He raised his eyebrow at her. “Count me in!”

“The same for me,” Hawk said.

“Great!” I couldn't believe it was this easy. Four down. Four to go. “We'll meet right after school and go—”

“After school?” Hawk asked. “I can't do it right after school.”

“Why not?” Kaylee asked.

Hawk stared at her fingernails and shifted in her seat, stealing a glance up at Catman. “I . . . I told Mother I would do something after school.”

“Hawk!” I cried. “Can't you tell your mom you'll do it tomorrow?”

Hawk shook her head.

“So what's so important?” Sal asked.

Hawk took a deep breath. “I have a job. A modeling job.” She almost swallowed the last words.

“Victoria, that's so tight!” Sal shouted. She turned around to Summer's table. “Hey, you guys! Did you know Vic here got herself a modeling job?”

Summer wheeled around, frowning. “Where?”

Hawk turned sheepishly. “It is no big deal. Really. Ford Models. It is all Mother's idea.”

Summer dropped her spoon.

“Hey, isn't that where you applied over Christmas vacation, Summer?” Sal asked. “Ford Models? Yeah, that was it, right?”

“I don't remember,” Summer lied. You could tell by the way she wouldn't look at Hawk.

“You are so lucky!” Kristine, another girl in our class, exclaimed. “And they pay for taking your picture?”

Kristine is pretty smart. I had to think she knew the answer to that one. I wondered if she'd asked it just to make Summer even more miserable.