Whispering Hope (6 page)

S
unday night after church, Mrs. Chambers joined Skye in her bedroom after finishing a short talk with Wanda on the futon and bidding her good night. Mr. Chambers and Morgan were in the dining room playing chess. Skye leaned against the head of her bed while Mrs. Chambers sat at the foot. Tippy and Tyler lay sound asleep on a throw rug near Mrs. Chambers’ feet.

“Mom, I think Wanda’s telling the truth about the fire,” Skye said. “I’ve thought a lot about the whole situation, and I think she came clean about it.”

“What makes you think that?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

“I can just feel it,” Skye said. “Remember, I was a kid like that. I can read her pretty good. I don’t think she did it.”

“We should have a fairly good idea on Tuesday,” Mrs. Chambers said. “The insurance company will have a claims adjuster on the scene, and he’ll be able to tell us if someone started the fire or not. It shouldn’t be too difficult since there wasn’t major damage to the barn.”

“How’s Wanda doing with her schoolwork?”

“She struggles, Skye. But it’s not because of her intelligence. She just has no motivation. If she ever makes up her mind to be a better student, she will be. She’s satisfied
with passing grades and no more. I think her stubborn streak has a lot to do with it.”

“I was thinking the other day how I could help her.” Skye took a quick glance at her pile of books on her desk and then shifted to Mrs. Chambers. “Although she doesn’t want my help—for anything, I think I can get her interested in tackling that English report she has to do.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Skye ran her fingers through her hair and explained her plan. “Well, you know how she loves pool. And I know it’s just killing her that she can’t play for two weeks. Here’s my idea. The other day I was online and discovered a website called the WPBA. That stands for the Women’s Professional Billiard Association. Mom, you should see all the women who are pro players. The site even had an ESPN TV schedule of all their matches, so last week I watched a final game for a national championship. Wow! Are those women good, and you should see how nice they look. Maybe I can help Wanda in two different ways at the same time.”

“Yes, go on.” Mrs. Chambers stared at Skye with great interest.

“If Wanda says yes, we can go to that WPBA site on the Internet and then watch a few matches on TV. She can write her composition about the game itself or one of those women. And when she sees how nice those women dress and all, maybe she’ll decide to trade her ball cap and Blades jacket for a cool hair style and fancy blouse. What do you think?”

“Now that’s a plan!” Mrs. Chambers gave Skye her radiant smile. “Skye, that’s a great idea. Her report is due on Friday. Let’s see what you two can come up with until then.”

Tuesday after school, Skye groomed Champ while waiting impatiently for Wanda and Mrs. Chambers to get
home from Maranatha. Morgan had made plans to stay overnight at a friend’s home.

After a late supper, Wanda headed to her “quarantined” bedroom, supposedly to do homework. The insurance man had just arrived, and Mr. and Mrs. Chambers were about to escort him to the barn. Skye got permission to visit Wanda, so when the three adults and two dogs left the house, Skye knocked on Wanda’s door.

“Yeah, what d’ya want?” Wanda growled.

“It’s me,” Skye said.

“Go away, horse breath,” Wanda snapped. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

“Wanda, I want to talk to you about pool. C’mon, let me in.”

“I can’t play pool for two weeks. You know that, so get lost.”

“It’s not about your playing,” Skye said. “It’s about professional women pool players.”

There was a long pause then Wanda said, “So?”

“Let me in, and I’ll explain,” Skye pleaded.

Another long moment of silence passed before Wanda finally said, “Awright, awright, come in. But make sure those two fleabags aren’t with ya.”

Skye went in and leaned against the wall next to the door. Wanda was stretched out in her favorite pose on the bed—hands behind her head and high tops planted firmly into her spread. There wasn’t a schoolbook in sight.

“Well?” Wanda blurted out with a sour face.

“Wanda, you’re such a good pool player, and I wanted to learn more about the game. So I went online and found the neatest site. It’s all about pro women pool players. Did
you
ever check out anything like that online?”

“We don’t even have a computer at home,” Wanda said.

“I overheard you talking to Mrs. Chambers the other day about a report you had to do, so I was wondering if I could help you write it about female pool players.”

Wanda scowled at Skye and then stared at the ceiling.

Skye folded her arms and waited.

“I ain’t never asked you to do me no favors,” Wanda snapped.

“But you’ll be doing me a favor,” Skye said. “I want to learn more about pool, so while we’re writing the paper, you can help me understand the game better.”

Wanda stared at the ceiling some more, and Skye just waited.

“When?” Wanda asked.

“I’ll ask Mom if we can go online right now.”

“Why not?” Wanda said matter-of-factly without moving a muscle.

Skye hurried out of the room and ran to the barn. With permission from Mrs. Chambers, she and Wanda went to one of the computers in the game room and went online to the WPBA website.

While Skye worked the mouse, Wanda slumped in her chair with her arms folded, but her eyes betrayed her passion for the subject on the screen.

“See.” Skye pointed at the monitor. “Here’s a list of the top ten money-makers from last year. Each one has her own website. This number one rated player, Leona Bushkill, is from England. She made over $100,000 last year. They travel all over the U.S.—well—the world! I had no idea there was that kind of money in playing pool. Did you?”

Wanda peaked her eyebrows, and slowly she sat up in her chair and pulled it closer to the screen.

Skye clicked on Leona Bushkill’s name, which opened up the pool player’s website. “Last week,” Skye said, “I watched this woman play in the U.S. national championship from two years ago. It was on one of the ESPN channels. Did you ever watch any of this stuff at home?”

“We don’t have cable either.” Wanda huffed.

Skye and Wanda studied everything on the website—poses of Leona at a pool table, her schedule for the
remainder of the year, her list of victories since she went pro, and different links with “pool tips.”

“I guess since you don’t have a computer at home, you don’t type.” Skye gave Wanda her warmest smile.

“Nope,” Wanda said. “I’ve used computers a few times at school, so I know how to work the mouse and hunt and peck the keyboard, but I can’t type my report that way.”

“Well, here.” Skye pushed the mouse in front of Wanda. “Check out some of these other pool websites while I go get some paper and pencils. We’ll take notes, and then you can decide what you want to write your report about.”

Wanda took the mouse and dove in. Skye ran upstairs for her supplies and hurried back down. Wanda was completely captivated by the screen and never heard Skye coming.

Skye stood behind Wanda and glanced at a photo on the website of a very attractive thirty-something woman with shoulder-length curly blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Wow! Who’s that?” Skye said. “She’s gorgeous.”

“That babe is Gretchen Cummings, and she’s from Sweden.” Wanda’s voice, now an octave higher than normal, almost screeched with excitement. “She’s won four world championships, two in Snooker, and two in Nine Ball. I ain’t never played Snooker.”

Skye sat down next to Wanda and for the next hour they surfed the web, visiting the websites of a handful of female pool players. Skye noticed, along with some very interesting facts about each of the players, that almost every one of them made a distinguishable feminine appearance. It was time for Skye to make a point.

“Wanda,” Skye said as she made notes, “what do you notice about all these women?”

“They’re experts!” Wanda said. “But they all say that they practice from 30 to 50 hours a week. I guess it takes that much time at the table to be a pro.”

“But how about the way they look?” Skye held up her hand and touched her five fingers. “Every one of those
last five looks really pretty with her hair styled just right. What do you think?”

Wanda shrugged while she glared at the screen. “Guess so.”

Skye glanced at the screen and pointed. “Now look at this one. Kim Mau Yang. She’s from the Philippines. Look at her cool long black hair. It’s so clean, it almost sparkles. And I’ve noticed something else about all of these pool women.”

“What?” Wanda asked.

“They all wear nice clothes, make-up, and jewelry. They all look so cool. A few weeks ago I saw a championship match about ten years old, and the one women was wearing a black evening gown all the way down to the floor.”

Wanda scrunched up her face. “Shooting pool in a dress? No way!”

“Honest,” Skye said. “I could hardly believe it myself. But I think that is so cool, because when the average bear like me thinks of pool, do you know what I think of right away? It’s a ‘man’s sport.’ But to see women playing pool and looking so feminine and pretty is awesome to me. I just think that’s really neat. What do you think?”

Wanda simply said, “Guess so.”

Behind the girls, the basement door opened, and Skye turned.

“Hi, Mom,” Skye said while Wanda stayed glue to the screen.

“Girls, the insurance man just gave us his full report.” Mrs. Chambers walked to the girls and stood behind them. She placed a hand on each of the girl’s shoulders. Wanda shrugged, and Mrs. Chambers pulled her hand away.

Mrs. Chambers continued. “He said the fire started from a bad wire. It must have frayed and set off sparks that caught the hay on fire.”

“Told ya I didn’t do it,” Wanda declared without ever looking away from the computer.

“Guess so,” Skye said, smiling.

S
kye, try working Rebel in the opposite direction.” Chad stood a short distance away from the corral and threw training tips at Skye. “Maybe he’s left-hoofed,” he said with a chuckle.

It was a cloudy but warm Saturday afternoon in May, and Skye was in the middle of another session with “the stubborn mule.” She backed away and withdrew the rope she had been using to prompt the horse to circle toward his right. As usual, she walked to the opposite side of the corral and turned her back to the horse, waiting for him to come to her. And, as usual, Rebel pivoted his body, faced his tail at Skye and arched his neck over the fence.

Skye slowly approached the horse, whirling her rope and forcing Rebel to trot to his left. As Skye concentrated, she heard Wanda yelling Chad’s name from the backyard and coming closer—fast! Out of the corner of her eye, Skye spotted Wanda, who looked strangely different.

“Chad, ole buddy,” Wanda chimed. “How about a game of pool?”

“Oh, hi, Wanda,” Chad said as Wanda rubbed shoulders with him. “Wow! I see you have a new look.”

New look? What’s she up to now?
Skye quickly coiled the rope in her hands and slipped between the fence rails. The new Wanda faced her, eyeball to eyeball.

Skye clenched her jaw, determined not to let her face betray any hint of surprise. Her glance darted to Chad, who stood rolling his eyes behind Wanda.

Wanda certainly had a new look, and Skye wondered how much of it had to do with her visit to the pool players’ website earlier in the week.
And I wonder if Mom knows what she looks like. I’m sure she does.

Skye studied every inch of Wanda from head to toe. First, Wanda had a new hairdo, a deliberate spike job. But she had used so much mousse, stiff spikes stood out all over her head like the Statue of Liberty. Adorning her ears were long dangling sparkly earrings, the clip-on kind that Mrs. Chambers had probably worn at some black-tie affair twenty years ago. Then there was Wanda’s face, literally “covered” in make-up. Her cheeks glowed like two ripe tomatoes, and her eyes, lined and shadowed in deep purple, looked like some dead Egyptian queen’s. Worse yet, she topped them off with obnoxiously fake eyelashes.

Skye’s stare drifted to Wanda’s clothes, which were all brand-new.
But nothing matches!

Wanda sported a frilly pink “Sunday” blouse, designer blue jeans, and low-cut white sneakers. From her neck down, Wanda didn’t look half bad other than the gaudy costume jewelry. Four strands of sparkly rhinestones hugged her neck, and on each wrist an excess of bracelets dangled in mismatched, clashing colors.
More of Mom’s ancient treasures,
Skye mused.

“Where’d you get the new duds?” Chad asked.

“The woman bought them for me when I first moved in,” Wanda said, pointing toward the house and batting her eyelashes at Chad. “I just decided to wear them today.”

“I see.” Chad tried his best to be cordial. “Interesting.”

“So, Wanda,” Skye said, “how come we have a new you?”

“Just because.” Wanda snapped at Skye and then turned to Chad. “How about that pool game now, Chad?”

Chad looked like he didn’t know quite what to say. “Ah—not right now, Wanda. I promised Skye that I’d work with her all afternoon with Rebel and the other horses. Sorry. I’m tied up for the next few hours. Maybe after supper.”

Skye stared at Wanda’s earrings and struggled to hold in a laugh that pressed against her lips. “You never told me how you did on your report. Didn’t you give that to Mom yesterday?”

Wanda stared at Chad and tried to ignore Skye. “Yeah, but she didn’t grade it yet. Chad, don’tcha have time for just one game now?”

“Well—”

“Did Mom tell you that for supper we’re having a picnic at the pavilion?” Skye said to Wanda. “Dad and Morgan are cooking burgers and baked potatoes on the grill.”

“Yeah, she told me.” Wanda gave Skye a sour look and started walking toward the house. “Big deal.”

“Maybe later, Wanda. Okay?” Chad called after her.

Without another word, Wanda hurried back into the house.

For the rest of the afternoon, Skye and Chad worked with Rebel and took a few breaks in between. On one break, they went into the barn to check on Mr. Chambers’ progress with his clean-up job. Another time they got a drink of lemonade and sat at the gazebo and talked about everything and about nothing. By now, the clouds had parted and the brilliant spring sun bathed the place in a blanket of warmth. When Skye was with Chad, she felt as warm on the inside as she did on the out. She hoped he felt the same.

“I wonder what Wanda’s been doing all afternoon,” Chad said to Skye as they walked back to the training corral.

“When I went inside for our lemonade,” Skye said, “the new Wanda was sitting at the dining room table doing schoolwork. It’s my bet that Mom discovered some unfinished assignments, so Wanda probably got her thousandth lecture. Even though she’s grounded for another week, Mom and Dad still will let her come to the picnic. That way they can keep an eye on her.”

“Right now, with the way she looks, that’s pretty easy to do. She’s hard to miss,” Chad said. “I don’t mean that in a nasty way, but I hope she doesn’t go to church like that tomorrow. I know a couple of kids who’ll laugh right in her face.”

“Yeah, I do, too,” Skye said. “I sure didn’t want to laugh at her and hurt her feelings, but it wasn’t easy. I’m sure Mom will tone down Wanda’s looks a little.”

“Skye!” Mrs. Chambers yelled from the back door of the house. “We’re going to start carrying things out to the pavilion for the picnic. Would you and Chad help us, please?”

“Sure, Mom!” Skye yelled back. “I’ll put Rebel out to pasture, and then I’ll be right there.”

Chad started toward the house. “I’m on my way, Mrs. C.”

“Chad, can you get the gates for me first?” Skye grabbed her rope off a fence post and walked on the outside of the training corral toward Rebel.

“Oh, sure,” Chad answered. “No problem.”

Skye carefully approached Rebel who stood in his favorite position, head arched out over the top rail. She snuck her hand underneath his chin and clipped the rope unto the halter. Then, with Rebel on the inside and her on the outside, she led him to where Chad was slowly opening the gate.

“Easy, boy,” she said as the pinto slipped out of the corral and pranced in circles. As Chad quietly closed the gate, Skye led Rebel, snorting like an engine, toward the
large fenced-in pasture where the rest of the horses were grazing at the bottom near the pond. Chad hurried ahead of her, unlatched the gate and swung it open.

At the opened gate, one careful step at a time, Skye approached the horse, slowly moved her hand toward his halter, and unsnapped the rope. Just as Rebel started into the field, a loud noise echoed from the barn, like two boards slapping together, and Rebel reared with a loud neigh.

“Easy, boy!” Skye said.

The horse’s eyes bulged with fright as he reared again and pivoted toward the open gate.

“Whoa, Rebel!” Chad said, raising his hands, but it was too late.

Rebel charged out of the pasture and along the fence toward the picnic grove. Full speed ahead, he rounded the corner, high-tailed it down the dirt road, and in a cloud of dust disappeared into the thickest woods.

“Rebel!” Skye yelled at the top of her lungs. “Come back here!”