The Hundredth Horse

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Mom was late picking me up from drama club again. Which meant another twenty minutes of not wanting to be there. There was just me looking through the window as all the other children left. I had one more thing to avoid, and then I could forget what happened earlier.

Me and this boy named Jamie were extras and scenery painters, doing background colours, which was just about all right with us, if we had to be there at all. So I thought if anyone was on my side, it would be Jamie. But he wasn't. Especially not when he told Mrs. Oliver that I was out back doing dangerous things with the wiring.

Mrs. Oliver blew a fuse and said I should explain myself. I looked at her and took and breath and was about to speak, but then I didn't know what "explaining myself' meant. You can't explain yourself. You're just you. Even though what actually happened wasn't like me at all. I'd never, ever done anything like that before. 

The heat in my face made my eyes sting because I was suddenly thinking about what Mom would say.

"Well?" Mrs. Oliver folded her arms.

"Well, what happened was this," I said, deciding to tell her the events like a story. "I finished doing the scenery painting, like you said, and Jamie and me had washed the brushes and we were leaving them to dry when I found those lights . . . you know - the ones you were looking for? And they were in a bag with other things that needed fixing and the plug was missing and I knew how to join them to another set of lights. So I just did it, but I forgot to ask and . . . I didn't mean to do it."

"Nell Green, this is so unlike you," she said. "What were you thinking, playing with such dangerous things?"

Which was silly because it wasn't dangerous; the lights weren't even plugged in, so nothing bad was going to happen. And maybe that made me look as if I wasn't sorry enough. 

So I said, "Sorry, Mrs. Oliver, I won't do it again."

Mainly I was thinking, Please don't tell Mom. Which made my face blush and prickle again.

"Who knows what might have happened?" Mrs. Oliver said. "What would your mother say?"

Sometimes you wish people could read your mind.

It didn't seem to matter that there was now an extralong string of lights for the scenery. Mrs. Oliver didn't expect an answer, though, because she turned on her heel and clomped across the wooden floor. 

So there I was with my face pushed against the window, looking as far down the road as I could to watch for Mom's car, hoping Mrs. Oliver wouldn't see her arrive. But she did, and they discussed the incident through the car window. Now it was an incident, like some great big disaster.

I was belted in my seat, sandwiched between their conversation. Mrs. Oliver said what an unusual skill I had, but that I should be discouraged from messing with electrical things. Surely she meant fixing! Mom agreed instantly and gave me a look that said, How could you?, which was what I mostly wanted to avoid. That look.

"Maybe Nell needs more to do," Mom said. "Something more challenging to keep her occupied, Mrs. Oliver. A bigger part in the play perhaps?"

One little thing was now turning into a major drama.

Keep quiet, I told myself. Starting Monday there'll be two weeks of spring vacation with Nana. Mom will be too busy with work and a conference, so there'll be no after-school clubs, no appointments, no waiting. Just me and Nana relaxing at her house, watching daytime TV, playing cars and computer bingo, safe and quiet. Nana doesn't drive and she won't take the bus because you never know who's sat on the seat before you or where they've been, so she can't take me to rehearsals. Ha! And Mrs. Oliver would be bound to forget.

Mom drove away, saying, "Do we need to have a talk?"

"No," I said. Because her betrayed face said everything.