Gift Horse (11 page)

“Tell me everything,” Hawk said.

So I did. I told her about my gift horse and the mysterious
Topsy-Turvy-Double-U.
I told her about what the vet said and how Dad was acting, never missing an opportunity to remind me that Gracie wouldn't make it. I talked about Mason and how he was getting attached to the mare.

Suddenly I glanced at the kitchen clock. “Hawk, I'm sorry! You're paying for long distance!”

“Dad can afford it,” she said.

She was right about that. “I should be asking about
you,
Hawk. Have you talked to your mom? What are kids like down there? When are you showing Towaco? You guys will win everything, you know.”

She answered all my questions, talking a lot for Hawk. Then she got quiet, so quiet I thought she might have gotten disconnected. “Winnie, I wish I were home. Ashland home. I wish I could be there to help you with Gracie.” She gave me her Florida phone number. “And call me if Gracie has her foal. Promise?”

I promised.

When I hung up, I felt better than I had in days . . . until I remembered that I still didn't have a Christmas present for Hawk. With less than a week till Christmas, I had to admit there was no way I could afford everything I wanted to buy—especially the terrarium
and
a subscription to
Gizmo Magazine.
I'd had to buy high-energy feed, mineral supplement, and protein supplement, which had cut deep into my shrinking Christmas funds. Plus, there was still the vet bill to worry about since I'd promised Dad I could cover it.

Sunday after church I took a long ride on Nickers, then spent the rest of the day with Catman and M, mucking and laying straw.

By the time I finally dragged myself in from the barn, it was pitch-dark. Lizzy and Geri were at the kitchen table, which was covered in piles of rocks and construction paper. Cookie smell smothered every other house odor. A dozen paper plates full of cookies, covered in plastic wrap and tied with red ribbons, lined the counter.

“Where are you taking cookies?” I asked, shedding my hat and coat. My hair was flat and damp with sweat. Lizzy's hair looked perfect, falling in little curls around her shoulders. Geri's blonde hair did the same thing. They both had on pajamas, so I figured Geri was spending the night again. She did it a lot when her parents worked night shift at the Archway Cookie factory, but she didn't usually stay over on school nights. Maybe it was because we only had a three-day week ahead.

“Good Shepherd Nursing Home,” Lizzy answered.

“We made only soft cookies,” Geri added. “No nuts in case of no teeth.”

I glanced around the house for Dad and noticed the Christmas decorations everywhere. Red and green paper chains dangled above windows. Lizzy and Geri had made Christmas candles and papier-mâché trees and angels. She'd even talked Dad into buying a tiny Christmas tree at the grocery store and then decorated it with cookies and strung popcorn.

I'd missed it all.

“House looks nice, Lizzy,” I said, trying not to feel too guilty for not helping with any of it. “Where's Dad?”

Lizzy had the end of a paintbrush in her mouth and both hands occupied with one of the rocks. So Geri answered. “Your dad took Madeline and Mason for last-minute Christmas shopping.”

Last-minute shopping?
I hadn't done
any
shopping.

I sat down at the table with them. Geri was folding green paper, and Lizzy was painting on a rock the size of my fist. “I thought this would be my best Christmas for giving presents,” I admitted. “It's the first time I've had money of my own . . .
had
money of my own. Gracie's taking most of it. I'm going to have to settle for buying junk from A-Mart.”

Lizzy spit out the paintbrush. “You can
make
your gifts, Winnie! There's still time! We can help you. Right, Geri?”

Geri nodded. “Sure. Here you go.” She handed me a small green square of paper. “I'm making Christmas doves for my aunts. See?” She held up seven green origami birds with yarn loops on their backs. “Tree ornaments!”

“Nice,” I said, wondering if doves were green and how they'd show up on a Christmas tree. I was getting itchy to leave. I hate crafts. Probably because I stink at them. Even if Geri were folding paper horses, I knew I didn't have a chance of success here.

“Now,” Geri commanded, “do what I do. Fold it like this.” She made a fold and smoothed it out. I did the same. “Good. Only match your edges. Okay. Now this way.”

She folded triangles. She creased hexagons.

When we finished, she held hers up. “There! See! Nothing to it—and it's beautiful frog green!” She took mine out of my palm and frowned at it. It looked like a green paper clip with wrinkles.

Before Geri could comment, Lizzy spit out her paintbrush. “Hey! I've got some extra rocks. Want to paint—?”

“Thanks, Lizzy.” I got up. My chair squeaked against the kitchen linoleum. “Maybe tomorrow.”

But I didn't mean it. I knew full well I'd be worse at painting rocks than I'd been at folding doves.

But Monday morning Lizzy was waiting with her rocks and Geri with her construction paper. “Winnie!” Lizzy cried when I stumbled out of our room before the sun had time to even think about rising.

I'd lost track of how many night trips I'd made to the barn to check on Gracie. But judging from how hard it was to keep my eyes open, it must have been a lot. I'd get more sleep when I could just stay out in the barn.

“We have time to get started on a Christmas rock before school!” Lizzy exclaimed.

“Or try origami again,” Geri offered.

I tried to walk past them to the bathroom, but Lizzy shoved a pencil at me. “Here! Take this. You can draw your design now. Then after school we can mix paints and—”

“I can't even see the pencil now, Lizzy.” I yawned. “And I've got to check on Gracie. I want to slip in a quick ride on Nickers too. Later, okay?”

After school there she was again. And so was Geri. I made excuses for not rock-painting. I'd had another lousy day. Pat had caught me in the hall and nagged for the assignments I hadn't turned in. Summer had been . . . Summer. And I still hadn't gotten Barker's notes for the life-science final.

Tuesday was just as bad. Summer was even more obnoxious, and I kept getting further behind in Pat's class.

After school I walked straight home. But before I'd even gotten into the house, Dad cornered me on the lawn. He was working on a remote-controlled stapler, and his hands were full of copper wires and staples. But he still had time to remind me that Gracie wasn't looking good and I had to be prepared for what was going to happen, meaning death.

The rest of the day I successfully dodged Lizzy and Geri. The last thing I needed was crafts. I didn't even like the sound of the word. I knew Lizzy was trying to help, but she didn't get it. She can do everything great. And every time she tried to get me to paint those stupid rocks, I felt even more pressure about the Christmas gifts I didn't have.

I kept telling myself that I only had one more day of classes to get through. Then Dad would let me stay in the barn. And I'd have enough time to take the money I had left and buy something—even if it wouldn't be something great—for Christmas gifts.

Wednesday was the last day of school before Christmas break. All I wanted to do was get it over with. I was almost out of the house, headed for morning barn chores, when Lizzy surprised me.

“Winnie! Geri and I went through a bunch of craft books last night. We found six designs you can trace right on the rocks! And if you choose one, I could even trace it for you because that wouldn't be like me doing it or anything. And then—”

“Lizzy!” I couldn't take it anymore. Not one more job. Not even if they did everything for me but sign my name. “I'm not a craft person! Can't you and your little friend get that through your heads?”

I ran outside. The cold slapped my cheeks. I'd forgotten to pull on my stocking cap. My head felt prickly. And my whole insides hurt.

I dashed into the barn, my favorite place in the world. But it didn't feel right. The warmth felt scratchy. It melted my frozen head, and tears streamed down my cheeks.

Nickers greeted me like always, nickering and burrowing her head into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and tried to stop crying. I wanted my mother. It made me feel five years old, but I wanted her. I didn't want to go through another Christmas—or another day—without her.

I made myself go through the motions of barn chores. I tried not to think about how I'd blown up at Lizzy, but it was all I could think about.

Lizzy was only trying to help me. She was always trying to help me—when she wasn't delivering cookies to old people in nursing homes or helping injured reptiles.
I love my sister. Don't let her feel bad.
I realized I was talking to God now, not to myself. I could almost feel him in the stall with me.
I'm sorry. I just wanted to get such great Christmas gifts. And I can't make them. Not like Lizzy and Geri. So make it better, please? Make
me
better?