Racing Savannah (17 page)

“Riding the Ferris wheel must be code for making out,” Alex says, as Vanessa and Rory start pawing at each other.

“Yup.”

“Want to?” he asks, pointing at the ride.

“Make out?” I tease.

He pauses for a sec, looking freaked out. “I meant ride the Ferris wheel.”

“I was joking.” My face feels a million degrees.

Alex walks up to the ticket taker guy and when I try to pass over tickets of my own, he waves my hand away. “I got it.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“But wait. Are you tall enough to ride the ride?” Alex asks, pointing to the ruler.

I give him a faux evil look and go grab a seat. We grasp the bar, looking straight ahead as the wheel moves backward in a lurch, lifting us up into the black sky. From way up here, you can see all of downtown. The Franklin Theater marquee burns red and gold. A blue light flashes on top of the water tower.

Alex looks at me sideways. “In full disclosure, I haven’t been on a first date in a while.”

“I’ll have mercy on you,” I say with a laugh. He doesn’t date often? That’s hard to believe. Wind rushes against my face as the Ferris wheel reaches for the stars again.

“So you’re a horse jockey?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. “That’s pretty sexy.”

I give him a friendly shove and launch into telling him about last week’s race and my hopes for this weekend at Keeneland and the upcoming Dixiana Derby. Alex watches my face and asks questions about jockeying and soon I’m quizzing him.

“I’m a biology major at Middle Tennessee State,” he says. It turns out he likes rock climbing and spends most weekends in the woods.

When we get off the Ferris wheel, Vanessa and Rory say they want to ride it again—which is code for wanting to make out some more, so Alex buys us a funnel cake and we walk around, chatting and licking powdered sugar off our fingers.

I see lots of people from school. Colton Bradford and Kelsey Painter are hanging out with the cheerleading squad and guys from the football team. They’re taking turns going down the Megaslide, squealing and banging against each other as they land on the cushioned bottom. Colton and Kelsey wave at me, and it doesn’t escape my notice when they check out Alex.

Colton mouths at me, “He’s hot!” and makes inappropriate gestures with his hips, and I grin back at him. What a perv. It surprises me that Jack isn’t with them tonight. And it surprises me even more that Kelsey waved at me.

“How about the Fun House?” Alex asks, and we spend a few minutes giggling into a mirror that makes us look about a thousand pounds apiece.

“You need to go on a diet,” I tease.

“On second thought, you’re not my type.” Alex chuckles as I shake my hips, making my thousand-pound self dance in the mirror.

His phone rings, he fishes it out of his pocket, and stares at the screen. “I need to take this. C’mon.”

We leave the Fun House, and while he chats on the phone, I go over to the dime toss game where I pay three tickets to throw five dimes into little glass bowls filled with water. I miss all five times.

That’s when I see them.

Jack and Shelby Goodwin. He has one hand protectively curled over her shoulder as they’re coming out of the art pavilion.

Of course Alex is still pacing and talking on the phone. Did he forget he was on a date with me? Embarrassing.

I pay another three tickets and focus on the game. I miss all five times again.

“Wow, you are awful at this.”

I turn to face Jack.

Shelby elbows her brother’s ribs. “With that mouth it’s no wonder you can’t keep a girlfriend. Hi, Savannah.”

“Hi,” I say, and pass three more tickets over to play again.

“You here alone?” Jack asks, glancing around.

“No. I’m on a date.” I point at Alex, who has a finger stuffed in his ear so he can better hear the person on the other end of the line. This had better be important because he’s been on the phone at least five minutes now.

“Oh,” Jack replies, furrowing his brow.

“Win me something,” Shelby demands to Jack, so he pays three tickets to play the dime game. He tosses four times before nailing a shot and winning Shelby a brown stuffed horse.

“I’ll play again,” Jack says, passing over tickets. As Shelby starts talking to a friend, gossiping about some boy in the eighth grade, Jack nails a shot on the second try, winning another stuffed animal.

“I’ll take that one,” he says. He points toward a small pink unicorn. The worker plucks it off the prize wall and Jack hands it to me. “For your room. It’ll match your Strawberry Shortcake bedspread.”

I scowl at him then take the stuffed animal, slipping it under my arm. “I’m naming him Seabiscuit.”

Jack gives me a withering look. “Really? Seabiscuit? You know the best horses at our farm come from Nasrullah and Secretariat.”

“Fine. I’ll name him War Horse.”

“Oh Lord.” Jack laughs and shakes his head.

“I’m predictable, eh?”

“Not in my mind, no,” he says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances over at Alex. “What’s your favorite part of the fair?”

“The mule races.”

“Oh yeah? Mine’s going to the dog show.”

I laugh, and we look into each other’s eyes. He’s quiet for a long, still moment. “I’m looking forward to Saturday. I think you and Star can win this one.”

We’re racing at Keeneland in Kentucky this weekend. Jack entered Star in a handicap with a $150,000 purse.

“I’m excited for Saturday too,” I say, not able to keep the excitement out of my voice. “I know we’ll win this one.”

Jack grins. Then shakes his head and focuses on the Ferris wheel. It loops around twice as we stand in silence. When I was a little girl and watched older girls walk around with their boyfriends at the fair, I couldn’t wait for the day I’d do it myself. And now here I am: practically alone since my date ditched me for a phone call. Alone, when I have the guy I truly want right next to me.

“Savannah,” Jack says, glancing at his sister, who’s still preoccupied with her friend. “I know I haven’t been good to you, but I want to find a way—”

That’s when Alex walks back over and drops a hand on my shoulder. “Sorry about that. A friend was having trouble sorting something out.”

“I’m Jack.” He stretches a hand out to shake Alex’s. Alex introduces himself then asks if I want to ride the teacups. I nod.

“Bye, Jack,” I say, and a panicked look rushes onto his face as I turn away with Alex. But I leave him behind.

“Who was that guy?” Alex asks.

“My boss.”

“Huh. He’s kinda young.”

I glance back to see Jack putting an arm around his little sister’s shoulders and guiding her toward the Ferris wheel.

Alex and I board the teacups and he cozies up next to me—it’s getting cold out here. The rest of the night goes smoothly—no more Goodwins show up, and Alex doesn’t get any more phone calls, and when we’re leaving the fair, he gives me a quick peck on the cheek and asks if he can call me Saturday, so maybe we can grab a bite to eat or something that evening.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” I smile. The night wasn’t a complete win, but I had a nice time and I’d like to see him again. He’s nice and he kissed my cheek and he treated me well. What more can I ask for?

But later that night, against my better judgment, I curl up with the pink unicorn and stare out my little rectangular window at the stars, imagining Jack’s arms around me.

• • •

Thanks to a bad rain on Friday, the track at Keeneland is a big mud pit. The horses have to work double time just to make it around during practice. It’s like when humans try to run on the beach. During practice, I take Star out for a warm-up, and on the backstretch, Star pulls up hard and I fall. I shoulder roll into a big puddle. The mud cushions the fall, but I’m covered in muck.

Star doesn’t take off like he normally does when he bucks his riders. He pushes my head with his nose, as if he’s telling me to get up. He snorts and digs a hoof into the mud.

As I’m standing up, wiping the mud off my gloves on my pants, Jack, Gael, Dad, and Mr. Goodwin come slopping through the mud toward me. Gael grabs Star’s bridle.

“Are you okay?” Dad asks.

“Fine,” I say, keeping my voice steady. My butt doesn’t even hurt.

“Let’s get you off the track,” Gael says, leading us back to the stalls. Rory comes to give Star a bath and get him fed.

“Son,” Mr. Goodwin says to Jack, “I think you should either pull Star from the race or put Townsend on as jockey instead of Savannah. She just doesn’t have the experience racing in muddy conditions. I don’t want her to fall during the real thing.”

“But—” I start.

“Mr. Goodwin’s right,” Dad says, scanning my filthy clothes.

“You don’t know that,” I say. “So I fell one time—”

“You’ve fallen during practice too,” Mr. Goodwin says.

“She’s gotta get experience sometime,” Gael says, and I flash him a smile.

“I don’t want a Cedar Hill rider falling in a race,” Mr. Goodwin says. “It wouldn’t look good for me and my farm.”

“Are you really gonna let this happen?” I ask Jack.

He doesn’t meet my eyes.

“I thought you made the decisions,” I say. “You’re supposedly acting owner of the farm.”

“I am!”

“Just not when it’s important, I guess.”

Jack opens his mouth to speak then shuts it again. His forehead crinkles and he looks down before glancing up at his dad again.

“Use Townsend as your jockey,” Mr. Goodwin says. “This is important.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says quietly. “Dad’s right—I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m racing Townsend.” He jets out of the stall, leaving me leaning over onto my knees, gasping for breath.

They know Star doesn’t like boys. It pisses me off that they’re willing to risk Star being uncomfortable. Besides, I came in third last time! That’s a gazillion times better than Townsend ever managed on Star. I yank my gloves off, throw them on the floor, stomp out of the stall, and slam the door shut. Minerva sticks her head out of her stall, looking me in the eye, alarmed.

“Shit,” I say, charging out of the barn. Rory sees me and chases after me, trying to talk.

“What’s wrong?” Rory asks, grabbing my elbow.

“Just leave me alone!” I yell, storming toward the grandstands.

I find a place far away from the paddock to stand and watch Star’s race. Jack already told me he can’t date me because of who I am. And now he’s taking this away from me? Asshole.

Before the race starts, Jack comes to join me in the grandstands. He brings me a hot cocoa from the concession stand because it’s so chilly.

“I’m really sorry,” Jack says, passing me the Styrofoam cup. I don’t want to accept his peace offering, but only an idiot would turn down a free hot chocolate on a day like this. Stupid rainstorm.

“I’m sorry too,” I say. “Are you gonna take orders from your dad for the rest of your life? When are you gonna actually stand up and act like an owner? Or is that just a title for you?”

Jack furrows his eyebrows, looking hurt and pissed, and I know I’ve dealt a low blow, but I need to put shields up around myself.

“I didn’t do it only because Dad told me to,” Jack says. He musses his wet hair, and rain drips down his face.

“Then why did you do it?” I snap.

“Because I care about you!” he roars. People in the grandstands stare at us. “I care about you so much and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He drags a hand through his hair again. Everything goes so quiet I can hear my heart pounding inside my chest. “Drink your cocoa. It’s cold and I don’t want you to get sick.”

“You don’t need to take care of me, Jack.”

“I want to take ca—” He hesitates and breathes deeply.

I sip the cocoa, shaking my head at the racetrack. “I’m really pissed at you right now. First you got my hopes up about being a jockey and being able to do something different with my life. And then you got me excited about us. That maybe we could be something special, because I really
feel
something when I’m with you. And I mean
really
feel…” I grind my teeth together.

Jack is staring at his boots now. “I told you I want you.”

“And I told you that I won’t settle for being your secret.”

“But you will settle for that guy you were with the other night. Rory Whitfield’s cousin.”

“That’s not settling! It was a real date!”

“Oh please. A real date with no chemistry. Of course you were settling.” He steps closer, getting in my face space. “Be with me. Please don’t date him.”

“Oh, so you’ll stoop to date me now that I could be interested in another guy? That sucks.”

“I care about you!”

“Then prove it.”

I face the racetrack, not meeting his gaze again. After several seconds of stewing in silence, Jack finally leaves me standing there alone. I take my hot cocoa and find a dry place to sit.

During the race, Townsend rides the rail and never gets Star out in front of the pack. The horse whips his head from side to side at one point, and I think Townsend will lose control, but he hangs on somehow.

They come in fourth place.

Jack is giving Star a weekend off from racing because the Dixiana Derby is next Saturday.

Out in Greenbriar, I’m all alone as I give Star a bath. After I brush his teeth, he reaches out as if he’s gonna bite my hand, but then he slowly nuzzles it. I look into his eyes and he nickers.

“Hello,” I reply. “Are you glad you have a day off?”

Star snuggles against my shoulder.

“No wonder you haven’t been winning races,” I whisper. “You’ve become a big ole pansy. Racehorses are supposed to be aggressive.” I pump my fist and try to show him I mean business, but he goes back to eating his grain. What a pig.

I hang out with Star the rest of the day, cleaning up his manure and letting him graze in the pasture. Last Saturday night, I went to dinner with Alex at the Cracker Barrel, and we had a good time, but nothing much happened between us. When he drove me home, he gave me a quick peck on the lips. Later tonight we’re going to a movie and I hope this’ll be the night we kiss for real. I don’t mind that we’re taking it slow, but I’m kind of aching for some passion.

Leaning over the fence, I watch Star chase a filly, teasing her, and then he gets ornery and squeals when a yearling colt tries to play with him. I laugh, and Star rewards me by nuzzling my face and hands.

Watching the horses run into the orangey-pink sunset, I totally lose track of time—I need to take a shower soon to get ready for my date, and that’s when I hear footsteps behind me. I look over my shoulder to find Jack dressed in his comfy clothes—sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee.

“It’s late. We should put Star and the others back in their stalls.”

“Am I gonna get to ride Star in the Dixiana Derby next week?” I ask.

Jack sniffles, watching Star roll around in the grass grunting. “We’ll have to see what conditions are like that day.”

What he means is he has to see what his father says. How ridiculous.

“Why are you home?” My eyes trail over his sweats. “It’s Saturday night.”

He folds his hands together on top of the fence and studies the horses. “There’s nobody I want to go out with.”

“Not even Colton or Vanessa or Kelsey?”

“Don’t feel like it.” He looks at me sideways, giving me a sad smile.

That’s when Star jogs back over to me. He makes a deep snorting sound and pauses a few feet away. I cluck my tongue. The horse turns his focus from me to Jack then slowly walks forward, squeezing between us. Star nuzzles against Jack’s cheek and nips at his hair.

Jack scratches the colt’s face. “Aw, thanks, buddy.”

Bright stars poke through the lovely pink-orange sunset as Jack and I stand together, petting the horse. I wish he could show the same courage that Star just did. Will Jack ever shove aside the things that scare him?

After we lead Star to his stall, passing farmhands along the way, Jack walks me back to Hillcrest.

“Can we talk later?” he asks quietly. “We could meet out by the lake?”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”
I
won’t.
I won’t get into another situation where we might hook up, no matter how much I want it.

“Please?” he asks softly. “Just as friends?”

“Jack,” I say in a tiny voice. “Don’t…I told you, I can’t. I have plans.”

“I need to talk to you about something…I need you, as a friend, you know?”

How could this end well?

“I got you something.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a weathered, tiny box, and hands it to me. I don’t want gifts. I want to race his horse, I want him to support me in front of his father, I want him to man up.

He nods at the white box. With shaky hands, I carefully open it to discover a silver chain with two charms: a horse and a horseshoe. The chain is kind of rusted, but it’s delicate and pretty. No guy has ever given me jewelry before. I look up into his eyes, searching.

“It belonged to my great-grandmother,” Jack says quietly. “She had red hair and loved horses. Just like you.”

My lips tremble as I stare at the bracelet. “I can’t take this.”

Jack frees it from the box and loops it around my wrist, fastening it. “But it’s perfect for you…and it matches the necklace your mom gave you. Please keep it.”

Mom told me to study history so I could learn from it. Well, everything in my history says that Jack is a player, that he only wants me in secret, that he never actually dates girls, but now he goes and gives me something that belonged to his great-grandmother? It’s like he’s linking our histories together.

I could see a guy giving an expensive, new piece of jewelry to a girl he wants to entice into bed, but not a family heirloom.

“It’s beautiful…”

“You know how important family is to me, right?” he asks. I nod, wiping my nose. “Then you understand what this bracelet means to me.”

I brush a tear out of my eye, not knowing what to say.

He peeks up at me under his eyelashes. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I admit, touching the bracelet. “But I need more…”

“I’m working on it.”

• • •

On Sunday evening, Rory asks me to dinner at Tennessee Ballers.

As soon as we sit down at our table, he pushes his new scene under my nose. This screenplay is about CIA agents—a guy and girl—who are partners fighting for the same promotion, but they’re also secretly in love with each other.

“Will you read my query letter again too?” Rory asks, shuffling through his papers. He’s looking for an agent to sell his screenplays to Hollywood. “I want to send it out tonight.”

“Yeah, after I finish reading this scene.”

“So I take it you like it then?”

“It’s full of gratuitous sex,” I say. “I hate it but I can’t look away.”

Rory laughs softly and pushes the rice around on his plate. Strange. He usually inhales his food.

“How was the date with my cousin last night?” Rory asks.

“Great,” I say, smiling. We ended up parking after the movie and we made out for a little while. He’s a good kisser. “I like him.”

“I’m glad,” Rory says. “I’m not as close with him as my brother is, but Will said it’s a good thing he’s getting out. He had a bad breakup a couple months ago.”

“Oh really? He didn’t mention it…” I worry on my lip. Last night was great. He paid for the tickets and we shared popcorn and laughed at the same parts in the movie. But it’s not like we’re close yet. I haven’t told Alex about any of my hopes and fears or how scared I am for my family now that a little sister is on the way.

“What happens if you never sell a screenplay?” I ask Rory, thinking of my future as a horse jockey.

“I’ll keep trying. I hope I will anyway.”

He wraps straw paper around his finger, peeking up at me. It’s easy to tell when something’s nagging him.

“Okay, what’s going on?” I ask.

“Um, my father has to declare bankruptcy.”

I cover my mouth with my hand. The farm’s financial problems are that shitty?

Rory rips the straw paper in two. “And we have to move. I guess Dad is gonna try to sell our animals. He hopes the Goodwins will buy our land.” Rory swipes at his eyes and pinches his nose.

“What is your dad gonna do?” I ask with a wobbly voice.

“Mom can get a job as a teacher, we hope, and Dad is gonna try to get on down at the co-op. He knows people there. But it’s like, most of the jobs don’t pay well.”

“It’s a good thing Will went to college instead of staying home to take over the farm,” I whisper, and Rory nods.

“This is all the more reason for me to go,” Rory says. “My dad doesn’t have a degree, so he doesn’t have many job opportunities, not like my mom does. I mean, Mr. Goodwin would probably hire my dad but it would embarrass him bad…”

I grasp his hand. “I’m here for you. It’ll be okay.”

He nods with a sad smile.

“Now let me see that query letter.”

• • •

Later that night, I’m still thinking about what would happen if someone else in my family got sick and I had no money to help them to get better. Before Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, we didn’t have health insurance.

I’ve been basing everything on working as an exercise rider or a jockey. I thought this was the ticket to finding a better life. But what if the opportunity to be one dries up? I fell off Star after he got spooked by those raccoons, even though I was being safe as can be. The Goodwins wouldn’t let me race at Keeneland. I love riding horses, but even horsemen don’t bet all their money on one race.

I find that out firsthand when I eavesdrop on Cindy telling Dad, Paula, and Yvonne what she overheard while serving dinner to the Goodwins.

“Mr. Goodwin told the family that Mr. Winchester didn’t accept his initial bid on Paradise Park, and if he wants to stay in the running, he’s gonna have to come up with another million dollars.”

A million dollars!

“Was it because of Master Jack not liking George Winchester’s daughter?” Yvonne asks.

“No,” Cindy replies. “Someone else bid more money apparently.”

Then why did Mr. Winchester blabber on and on about honor and family? It all came down to money?

I wrap my arms around myself, hating that Jack gave up what we had to help his father. Hearing that the Paradise Park deal is all about cold, hard cash makes me feel cold and hard all over. Mr. Whitfield thought he didn’t have to go to college because his farm had existed for over a hundred years. What if, in forty years, I’m dirt poor and living in a shack because I put all my chips in horseracing?

• • •

Monday morning, Jack isn’t in first period Life Lessons—he must’ve decided to skip, but I see him in the hallway after. He’s standing with Kelsey Painter, talking quietly to her. She’s rubbing his elbow and he seems upset. When he glances up and sees me, he turns and goes the other way. Kelsey gives me a questioning look, as if she’s trying to figure me out. That’s when she walks up.

“Is he okay?” I ask, staring past her.

She clutches her books against her chest. “You really care about him, huh?”

“I did.” I still do, but I’m not gonna admit that to her.

“That sucks,” she says. She doesn’t sound bitchy or anything; she sounds sad. Is she in Rory’s drama class or something? Because she’s a good actress.

“He really likes you,” Kelsey says.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No…he’s my friend…I can just tell. You should give him another chance.” She looks down the hallway toward where Jack just disappeared. “If I could go back in time, I’d fight harder to keep someone who was important to me—”

She suddenly turns and walks down the hall, meeting up with Colton and Vanessa before heading into English class. What was that all about? Am I supposed to feel sorry for the most popular girl at school? It’s crazy that she feels insecure at her level.

I decide to skip second period and go to the guidance counselor’s office. I swallow as I push open the door, walk up to the assistant, and ask to see Miss Brady about college options. I take a seat and doodle pictures of horses and horseshoes in my notebook as I wait.

Twenty minutes later, she invites me into her office. Along with the inspirational posters, she has loads of pictures of cats wearing clothes…?

I shudder, not sure what freaks me out more: CONFIDENCE or a kitten wearing a plaid beret and matching vest.

“Savannah Barrow?” she says, opening a file folder as she sits down behind her desk. I take the seat in front of her and grasp my knees.

“Why are you interested in college?” she asks, chewing on a pen.

For a lot of reasons, I think. To have lots of paths to choose from. To have the ability to back out of something if it’s not quite what I want.
Two
roads
diverged
in
a
yellow
wood
…and I want to take the one less traveled by.

But what I tell her is: “It’s something I have to do.”

She looks at my file, twisting a lock of her hair. “Your grades aren’t bad, but I’m not sure if you’ll have much of an opportunity for scholarships…maybe we could look into some grants and federal aid. And you need to take the SAT or the ACT.”

Miss Brady passes me a pamphlet and I open it.

“These tests cost money,” I say slowly.

“Everything costs money.”

I clear my throat, thumbing through the pamphlet.

“Depending on your family’s income, we could apply for a fee waiver so you could take the ACT for free.”

“Okay,” I reply quietly, and we go silent for several moments.

“I encourage all kids to go to college, but if you wanted to take a year off or go to community college, you could do that too. Although one time, I read a statistic that said 80 percent of people who don’t go to college right after high school never go. They never find the time.”

I glance down at the Coca Cola T-shirt I bought at a yard sale. Think about my background. All of it is part of me that has led me to now, to this point. Miss Brady is right. If I don’t go now, I’ll never go.

I pull a deep breath. “I want to try,” I say, making the guidance counselor smile.

“Great! What do you want to study?”

The creeptastic motivational posters intimidate me. “I have no idea.”

“And that’s totally okay.”

She spends ten minutes loading me up with more pamphlets and handouts so I can learn about the different state and community colleges in Tennessee.

“Come back and see me next week,” Miss Brady says.

If I want anything in life, I need to take it one step at a time. And if I want to pay for these college application fees or tuition, then I need to do something for me. It might hurt what I can give my baby sister in the near term, but it could help us all in the future.

I walk out into the hallway where I find Jack sipping from the water fountain. He wipes the water from his lips and faces me. Looks down at the papers in my hand. A smile begins to stretch across his face. I return the smile and walk toward the gym.

Before PE, I meet up with Vanessa at her locker, and right then, Rory approaches us.

“Vanessa,” he says breathlessly. “I have an important question for you.”

But before she can react, music rings out in the hallway and random kids start dancing to Lady Gaga’s “Telephone.” It’s all choreographed. Wait. Are these kids from Rory’s drama class? Is this a flash mob?