Nothing But Horses (21 page)

“It depends on rehearsals,” I said. “I have
basketball practice almost every day.”

“We meet Monday nights and Saturday
afternoons.” Mr. Haller shuffled through a stack of scores on the
piano. “By the time we get serious, basketball will be over.”

That actually made sense. I looked at the
large songbook he handed me. “
Victor, Victoria
? No way. You
can’t possibly intend to stage this.”

Comments erupted around me and Mr. Haller
waved for silence. “Why not?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s majorly politically
incorrect.” I didn’t have to look at the blurb on the cover to know
the story. “A starving actress pretends to be a guy that pretends
to be a woman in Paris during the 1930s. He or is it she becomes a
singing sensation and it creates a major ruckus when people learn
the truth.”

“It’s more topical now than it ever was
before.” Mr. Haller gave me an approving look. “You’re familiar
with the story. That’s good. Auditions this Saturday. Practice the
“
Le Jazz Hot
,” number. You’ll sing it
a capella
, no
musical accompaniment.”

“I’d be happy to just be in the chorus or
help put on the show,” I said.

“Everybody helps anyway.” Dani opened her
music folder. “We still all try out just for the fun of it and the
experience.”

“All right. This is all new to me. I’ve never
been in a show before.”

“You’ll love it.”

* * * *

That afternoon I changed for practice and
stayed in the locker room until most of the other girls were ready
to head into the gym. I would have loved to work on my dunks, but I
didn’t dare. Coach Norris would decide I was showing off and then
he’d want to bench me so I couldn’t play in tomorrow’s game.

Gretchen hurried in and waved at me. “I
didn’t learn anything today, but I’m going to keep working on it.
Okay?”

“Hey, you’re my favorite spy,” I told her. “I
appreciate it.”

I hung out and waited for her. I didn’t say
the coach might have issues with me because I was too serious an
athlete for him. I figured if she thought that, she would stop
looking for the truth.

After stretches, we started with lay-up
drills, then ran lines and finally finished with scrimmages. Coach
Norris continued subbing players and I kept passing to them. I
didn’t shoot a single basket even when I was the closest. I sent
the ball to someone else and let her take the shot. From there, we
went onto our cool down routine of jogging laps around the gym.
Finally, the whistle sounded and we circled around the coach.

He reminded us to bring our blue and gold
uniforms for the away game tomorrow. We’d be leaving from school.
We had to ride the bus to Monroe and back. Nobody could leave with
their parents after the game and that meant they needed to remember
the rules too. When he dismissed us, most of the squad started for
the locker room.

Coach Norris flagged me down and I turned to
face him. “Yes, sir?”

“Did you want to ask me about moving to first
string?”

“No, sir. I don’t expect that.” I met his
gaze and waited. “I understand that I have to pay my dues at
Lincoln High. I’m sure I won’t make first string this season and
I’ll never be point guard at this school.”

Utter silence while we looked at each other.
He ran a hand over his thinning hair. “If you keep trying to be a
team player, you’ll be surprised how quickly you can advance,
Sierra.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” I glanced at the
clock on the far wall, trying not to let my emotions show. He
totally infuriated me. “I need to go. I have twenty horses waiting
for me to clean their stalls, water and feed them. I still have to
pick up my tiara.”

“What?”

“Don’t all princesses wear their crowns when
they shovel horse manure?” I shrugged, tired of him. I turned and
walked away, not bothering to wait for him to end the conversation.
He might be the world’s biggest chauvinist, but I didn’t have
“Welcome” tattooed on my forehead and I was done for today.

When I arrived home, Charlie raced to greet
me. Unconditional doggie love made my world so much better.
Carrying him, I walked in the kitchen from the mud-porch. As soon
as she saw me, Mom topped off her cup, then filled a second with
coffee for me.

I put down Charlie and found treats for him
and Queenie. “What a day. How was yours?”

“Pretty good, but I just had a weird call
from your basketball coach.” Mom opened the cupboard and found a
package of peanut-butter cookies. She put them in the center of the
table and sat down across from me. “He called and wanted to know if
you really mucked stalls.”

“What did you tell him?” I tore open the
cellophane and snagged a cookie, dunking it in my coffee. “He’s
pretty sure I’m a major diva.”

“Where does he get that impression?” Mom
sipped her own coffee. “I laid out all your responsibilities for
him. I gave him the website address and told him that you
maintained it. You feed twenty horses before school every day and
take care of them as soon as you get home each and every afternoon.
You teach lessons on Sundays after church. You train horses,
deworm, hold for the shoer, design most of our riding programs and
I have plenty more work for you to do.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I took a second bite of my
cookie. “Is he calling Child Protective Services on you or getting
me a ticket on the Underground Railroad?”

“No, but I told him that if he has trouble
with you playing basketball, then he can send you home and I’ll
come up with the money for your tuition. It creates a hardship for
me when you’re not here immediately after school each day.”

“Really?”

“No, but he was acting like an idiot and I
ran out of patience with him.” Mom ate the last of her cookie and
reached for a second. “As your grandpa says, the apple doesn’t fall
far from the tree, Sierra. I don’t like putting up with stupid
people either, but if I rant and rave about it, I can’t feed the
horses.”

“I love you, Mom. You’re the best.”

She smiled and reached over to cover my hand
with both of hers. “Good. I’m glad you think so. Now, tell me about
this sophomore project and the Community Theater.”

Chapter
Nineteen

Marysville, Washington

Thursday, January
16
^th
, 3:10 pm

I sat in the back of the activity bus as far
away as I could get from Coach Norris. Jack Gibson came down the
aisle and dropped into the seat next to me. I flicked him a quick
sideways glance. “I know the cheer squads ride a different bus. Are
there assigned places for each team on this one?”

“Not unless we act up.” He winked at me.
“Then, we get the Lincoln High lecture and have to call our parents
and ask them why we don’t have better manners.”

I laughed like he intended and lowered my
voice. “Coach decided I was lying about the twenty horses I take
care of every day so he called my mom yesterday afternoon.”

“Poor guy. I bet he still doesn’t know what
ran over him. Did Rocky nail him?”

“You know it. She’d already had a
heart-to-heart with Mrs. Weaver who wanted to talk about the
sophomore projects.”

“Starting school in January means you missed
the lecture about why this is so important. This way you learn all
the elements for the one you have to do as a senior, the one that’s
a Washington State graduation requirement.” Jack glanced up as a
huge, sandy-haired guy stopped next to us. “Hey, Coach Evans. This
is Sierra McElroy. I’m going to help her with English on the way to
the game. Okay?”

“Really? Why?” He gave me a solid onceover
like he wanted to be sure we wouldn’t be kissing on his road trip.
“Don’t you speak the language already?”

I opted for my best bubblehead act and
channeled Robin combined with Dani. I giggled. “Oh yes, sir. I just
transferred to Lincoln, sir. And Vicky asked Jack to help me get
squared away for Mrs. Weaver’s class, sir. I haven’t done reading
logs since middle school, sir and she’s so tough on the details,
sir.”

Coach Evans narrowed his eyes and shot me a
dark-eyed glance. “Don’t play
last word
with me, missy.
You’re terrible at it. You should have been able to get ten
sirs
in that line of bull-pucky.”

“No way. Who could do that?”

“Me, thirty years ago.” He walked off, but
not before I saw his smile.

“Impressive.” I looked at Jack. “He’s
awesome. Can I play on your team?”

“No.” He nudged my backpack with his foot.
“The guys would cry when you kicked their tails. We have enough
drama now. Get out your book and log.”

“Seriously? You’ll help me?” I dove into my
backpack. “I just found out about these logs when I did my syllabus
last night. Mrs. Weaver’s been amazing. She said she’d give me full
credit when I turned the signed course outline in this morning,
then she handed me two logs. The format has me boggled. What does
she mean about text features?”

Jack talked me through the reading log. Then,
he helped me brainstorm my letter of intent for the theater
project. He laughed like a hyena when I told him about the musical
that Mr. Haller intended to stage. “I’d rather see that than one
more rendition of
Les Mis
. Vicky dragged me to it last year
because she thinks Hugh Jackman is hot.”

“I like the old musicals better,” I said. “I
could watch
Oklahoma
forever. You should see Hugh Jackman
play Curly. He’s the best I’d seen since Gordon McRae in the
original movie version.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way.” I looked forward and saw the two
coaches sitting behind the driver and talking to him. I took out my
cell, pulled up the video of “
Oh, What a Beautiful Morning”
on the Internet. I kept the volume low and passed the phone to
Jack. “Check him out. He nails this part.”

The song ended as the bus pulled into the
parking lot of the Monroe school. I packed my stuff, zipping the
backpack. Once the bus parked, we got off and I went to stand by
Olivia and Cedar. Jack’s coach hung by Coach Norris for a few more
minutes, then sauntered over to me. “Did you get your questions
answered, Sierra?”

“Yes. Thanks a lot.”

“No problem.” Coach Evans grinned at me.
“Glad to see kids using their time effectively, especially one who
tries to play,
last word
. Good luck with that.”

“Hey, I have a goal now. I’m going for twelve
sirs
in a sentence so I can beat you.”

He laughed and headed toward the guys. “Go
ahead and try, but not on me.”

“What was that about?” Olivia asked. “I’ve
never seen him that cheerful.”

“He’s great,” I said. “I thought he’d lose it
when Jack was helping me with my English assignments, but instead
Coach Evans just let us work.”

“I sat right behind him and Coach Norris on
the bus,” Cedar whispered. “You impressed him. He told our coach
that you were a very polite, focused young lady who was going
places. He wanted to know if you were on first string and seemed
surprised that you weren’t.”

I glanced at the other team. The guys were
cutting up and shoving at each other. I could see the camaraderie
even in their horseplay. Coach Norris waved at us and we clustered
around him with the rest of the girls. He reviewed our strategies,
told us to listen to Patricia and Olivia, then led us toward the
gym. As I walked in the door, he reminded me not to be a hero. I
agreed and went to sit on the bench. Something about the crowd
filling the grandstand on the other side of the gym caught my
attention.

Halfway up, I saw a tall redhead surrounded
by a group of friends. What was Aspen Watson doing here? She played
for a completely different school, one we’d face later in the
season. Had she come to check out our strengths and weaknesses? Who
had she brought with her? The entire first string from
Centennial?

I subbed in during second quarter again. I
made a point of passing a lot and only shot when I was close to the
basket. I didn’t go for any three-pointers or dunk yet. I wanted to
play at the end of the game. Lincoln High was up by ten when the
buzzer sounded for half-time. We went to the locker room set aside
for us. Coach gave us a big pep talk about how wonderful we were
doing.

Patricia scowled at him. “We could be
cleaning up the floor with these girls if you let Sierra play.”

“Excuse you.” Coach Norris glared at the
point guard. “Sierra played. She just finished last quarter.”

“She only scored twice.” Patricia planted her
fists on her hips. “I want a deal.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If we’re this bad off at the end of third
quarter, you let her cut loose so we can win by a good margin.
We’re being scouted today and I don’t want to be a laughing stock
on Saturday at C.T. during auditions.”

“C.T.?” Coach Norris looked baffled. “What’s
that?”

“Community Theater,” Neva told him. “We have
to work together with Centennial Mid-High and Patricia’s right
about the taunting. Aspen Watson brought her entire first string
today. They’re watching and laughing at us already.”

“If they’re disruptive, I can have them
removed,” Coach Norris said.

“They’re not making enough trouble for that.”
Patricia heaved a sigh. “We can still win this thing if they think
we have a strategy.”

Coach Norris frowned at me. “Did you know
about this? I don’t appreciate being sandbagged.”

“Not me.” I backed a step, then another one,
holding up my hands. “They came up with this. I didn’t.”

“Let Sierra play,” Neva repeated. “Yes, she’s
a hot-shot. We know that. We respect her for it. Either she goes
full out for us or she might as well sit on the bench and do
homework.”

“Not a bad idea,” I said. “It’d totally psych
out Monroe if I caught up my reading logs.”