Running Blind

5. Riding again

      Supper was silent. Nothing but forks scraping plates made sound.

      “So,” I spoke. “What did Ian’s Dad want?”

      I heard Dad take a deep breath and Mom probably glared at him to relax. He did and all went silent for another minute and a half, then he answered my question.

      “Mr. Walters is boarding three of his horses here. One of which is his son’s, Ian.” He paused and I felt there was more, so I waited. “He said that the horses were bred from six of his best. He says that two of his horses are to be exercised daily properly, due to being show horses. They’re jumpers—nasty tempers. But the third one…”

      This was getting more and more interesting. I wanted to know what Dad’s face looked like, to see his expression right now.

      “Yes? What about the third one?” I sat at the edge of my chair.

      “Mr. Walters told me that he wants it to be a racer. And he requested that you be it’s trainer. His son Ian would be the jockey…"

      My heart was flying a hundred miles high and I could hardly contain myself. “You mean…?”

      “I don’t want you to do it, Brianna. I told him that I don’t want you around any racehorse. He offered money, but—“

      “Dad! Why would you do that? You don’t know what I want! It’s my life!” I yelled.

      “Honey,” Mom said, trying to calm everything down.

      “I am the one who puts that roof above your head, young lady! I am the one who puts food on your plate. Now I don’t want you anywhere near another horse without steel toed boots on. Callis told me about that filly.”

      I slammed my fork down on the table. I pushed away from the table and my chair fell to the ground with a clatter. I hurried out of the room, knocking into the corner of the wall on my way out.

                                                            ~*~

      “Miss Stone,” My teacher said impatiently.

      “WHAT?” I snapped, then bit back. That was a mistake.

      The class grew very silent, intent on hearing every word of this. It took Mrs. Graped a moment to gain composure, but when she did I’m sure she was beet red.

      “If you ever talk to me like that again, I will be sure you get three units of detention young lady! You never talk to a teacher like that ever! It shows SO much disrespect! Now, to the office…now!”

      I stood up abruptly, plastering a smirk across my face and pulled Champ along with me. My principle—Mr. Clown (yep, it’s really Mr. Clown)—is a chubby man. Yeah, the chubby/jolly kind right? Wrong. Dead wrong. This is the chubby “I-don’t-give-a-crap-unless-you-try” type. His office is much too small to hold him, and is crammed with a desk and two extra chairs. I sat down in one, feeling Clausterphobic.

      “Ah, Miss Stone.” He began in his nasal voice. “I hear you’re causing trouble in your Algebra class, correct?”

      I shook my head. “No. I was causing trouble in my GEOMOTRY class.”

      He took a deep breath in with his nose, sucking snot up. “I understand that, Miss Stone. Now, will you tell me why?”

      “Because she was being a pain.” Shouldn't have said that.