by Wild’n’Free, age 13

Chapter One

“What’re you doing?” I asked my friend Jasmine while trying to stem my laughter. “That’s not right!” I laughed, clutching my sides.

Jasmine smiled and glanced at her girth. “Oh!” she laughed, a beautiful sound like tinkling bells. “You’re right! I’ve got it on backwards…” She said it just the right way. I fell down into the hay at my feet, collapsing on the bale laughing.

“Jazz, you knew that!” I said between bouts of laughter. She chuckled and switched her girth around. Her horse, Toxic, grunted and sucked in his belly as the girth was cinched.

I finished carrying the hay bale into the hay room and then returned to my horse, who was tied right next to Toxic. Poison was my Appaloosa gelding, and he was my best horse friend. He had the smoothest canter — it felt as if you were floating.

“You ready, Sam?” Jazz asked. I nodded.

Outside the barn, I swung into the saddle with grace. Jazz wasn’t so graceful, but she managed to get into the saddle without sliding off the other side. She was a very experienced horse rider — having ridden English for seven years — but she was a klutz.

Poison pranced, ready to get going. Jazz laughed as Toxic snorted and barreled into Poison, and they began an uncontrolled race to the other end of the field. Finally, right before Poison rammed into a tree, I tugged on the reigns and Poison dug his heels into the ground.

The two Appaloosa geldings walked beside each other, shoving and nuzzling each other playfully. They were best friends, just like Jazz and I.

We reached a gate that marked the end of the field and our tamed property; I held the gate open for Jazz and we trotted through the short field that followed. We finally reached a small forest that I called the Secret Forest, for it was settled practically in the middle of nowhere, as was my house and barn where Jazz boarded her horse.

I stopped Poison, and Jazz circled Toxic, who was almost cantering in excitement. The geldings knew that we were getting ready for our daily canter through the loosely-spaced trees, and this was the part of the day that all four of us looked forward to.

“Ready to let loose again?” I taunted Jazz. Jazz, actually, won the most, but I was determined to beat her. Toxic was the fastest horse in the barn (there were twenty two horses in our barn, borders or owned by my family), so he beat Poison in races with ease.

“Whenever you are,” she laughed, closing her blue eyes as she tossed back her head. Her black curls tumbled down her back with a gentle sloping wave to them. I had always admired Jazz’s looks, for my hair was dark brown and straight and ratty and my eyes were a deep, dark brown with golden flecks in them. I was plain and normal and ugly next to Jazz. Jazz was the most beautiful girl in our grade, and she knew it. But, fortunately for me, she didn’t brag about it.

We nudged our geldings’ sides and took off at a canter. Poison weaved through the trees with ease; he was used to this, and because I lived so close, we often practiced in the early morning and late evening after Jazz left if she wasn’t spending the night.

Toxic squealed as a sharp low-hanging branch scraped his ear, and he put on a surge of energy. Jazz ducked as the branch almost hit her head, and laughed when it passed. I nudged Poison with my heels once again, and he sprang forward, consequently tripping over his own hooves. He regained footing as Jazz emerged on the other side of the forest, our designated finish line.

I pulled Poison up beside Toxic and laughed, giving Jazz a good, hard shove. She slipped off her saddle, but caught herself before any harm could come when she landed on the ground. She also laughed, and fell back to the ground because she was laughing so hard. I, also, laughed so much that I nearly fell out of my saddle.

Jazz falling out of her saddle was such a funny sight, what with all of her experience and such, that I always laughed at it. And Jazz fell out often, the klutz she was.

“Okay…okay…okay…” Jazz said, catching her breath as she swung back into the saddle. “Let’s go to the river, and jump the logs we set up last week.”

I nodded. Jazz had asked me to set up some jumps for her last week right on the banks of a wide river. I had gotten some logs and taken my dad’s axe to cut little notches in them, and then I’d set them together and tied them with some extra rope for stability. We had some pretty high ones, and Jazz hasn’t jumped them yet. Jazz is a jumper, but Toxic is a klutz like her. I was always afraid, while watching her, that she would fall and hurt herself.

“Only for a bit,” I said as we took off at a steady trot. “It’s getting cold out, and winter isn’t even near yet.” I smiled and we rode in silence.

I grimaced as Poison hit a rock and tripped again; he was a bit unbalanced today, and so was Toxic by the looks of it. Toxic was trotting in a diagonal line instead of a straight one, and Jazz was desperately trying to get him back in check.

We reached the logs and I stopped Poison beside the last jump. I signaled to Jazz and she took off at a nice, easy canter. They flew over the first three jumps with ease; these were only a foot and a half. The next two were cleared, each two feet three inches. The next one, a four-foot fence, was the second to tallest one on the course. Jazz slowed Toxic, forcing him to shorten his stride. She gathered her reigns, took a deep breath, shoved her heels down, and went into a two-point, or jumping position.

I held my breath. Jazz had never gone over this one before, and Toxic was unbalanced today; it was a recipe for disaster. Time seemed to slow as Toxic raised his front legs, too late, and Jazz screamed as they toppled into the large fence. Toxic fell on his side, breathing heavily, and blood was trickling out of his shoulder.

The four logs came tumbling down on Jazz and Toxic; one landed on Jazz’s leg, pinning it down. Toxic, after being hit with two logs in the stomach, climbed to his feet and dove into the river, swimming to the other side and then taking off.

I leapt off of Poison and threw my reins over a tree branch, praying that Poison wouldn’t try to run. Time sped up as I ran to Jazz’s side. I knelt beside her, checking her vital stats. I had been trained by my father, a doctor that died in a car accident, to check these first. I checked her pulse, and thanked God under my breath that I could feel the steady beat. Then, I shoved the logs off of her leg and shook her shoulders. This wasn’t looking good.

“Jazz, talk to me!” I shouted desperately. Her breath fogged in the air, and she started breathing slowly with short breaths.

Jazz didn’t move. I began to panic. She had no visible injuries, but maybe a broken leg. If only she would open her eyes and talk to me.

“Talk to me!” I cried once more, and as her breaths got shallower, tears welled behind my eyes. “Jazz, talk to me! Talk to me! Talk to me…!” I cried openly now, the tears spilling down my cheeks.

I cried for what seemed like hours, after discovering that neither of us had remembered our cell phones. Poison was happily munching leaves off of the dying tree. Toxic had returned, and was grazing a short ways away.

I kept crying and crying and crying. The tears just wouldn’t stop. I had a watch on my wrist, and when I checked it, I realized that I’d been sitting here for four hours. My mom would be worried. I finally stopped crying after nearly slapping myself.

“Get a hold of yourself, Sam,” I told myself.

I stood, wiping my eyes, and pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders. I felt for Jazz’s pulse, and found none. I checked her neck for a pulse, too, and there wasn’t one there either. Her body was frozen cold, and I knew she was dead.

Feeling the sorrow deep in my heart and feeling as if I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, I used rope that had been holding the jumps together to tie Jazz to her saddle. I led Toxic while riding Poison back through the forest, the meadow, and then my field.

I reached my house and slid off of Poison. My mom came rushing up to me.
“Hon, are you ok…” her voice trailed off as she saw Jazz. She, speechless, untied Jazz and carried her into the house.

I removed the horses’ saddles and bridles, cleaning Toxic’s wounds, and smacked them on the rumps, turning them loose in the outdoor arena. I knew they wouldn’t get hurt in here, and I didn’t have the will or energy to take them all the way out to the back field where they belonged.

When I entered the house, I didn’t pause to see where Jazz’s body was. I could hear mom talking on the phone, but my mind wouldn’t comprehend the words. I trudged miserably up the steps to my room. I flopped on the bed, closed my eyes, and tried to believe it was all just a dream.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter Two

Two days later, I sat at the kitchen table, picking at my food. I was sad, depressed, and mad. I had cried all my tears out; I couldn’t utter a word without my voice cracking. The only thing that I could think was: It’s my fault. I let her jump that jump — it’s my fault!

My mom comforted me; my brother embraced me. Jazz’s mom and dad said they didn’t blame me, but they started talking to me less and less, and now they wouldn’t pick up the phone. When they did pick up, they made some excuse not to talk to me or my mom. I didn’t go out to the barn to visit Toxic or Poison; I couldn’t bear to see horses after the accident.

My mom kept asking me if I wanted to sell Poison. I said no, that I wanted to keep him, and that I wanted us to buy Toxic from Jazz’s parents. So, we did; Mom would do anything to get me out of this dark cloud. Poison and Toxic were both mine now; but I didn’t take a step into the barn at all. I just asked my brother Jacob to do the work — we were twins, and he was just as good with horses as me — and he did. Every morning and every evening Jacob fed the horses and groomed Toxic and Poison.

Finally, as I stood to go back up to my room, the phone rang.

“Hello?” I said, and my voice cracked. “This is the Pine residence. Who am I speaking to?” My voice was dull and flat, and it sounded like a broken computerized voice.

“Is this Samantha Pine?” the voice said. It was a light, carefree teenage boy’s voice.

“Yes sir,” I said. “Who am I speaking with?” I really wanted to know. Who would call and ask for me? Who would want to talk to someone who let their friend get killed?

“This is Jonny Gallerson,” the boy said. “I am inquiring about a horse I saw at a show a few months ago; he was called Uncovered Poison?”

That was Poison. What did this boy want with Poison? “Yes. What about him? That’s my horse,” I added, just to make sure he got the message.

The boy’s voice gentled, “I was wondering if he was up for sale; he has excellent conformation and my sister would like a new pony to pull her carriage. I’ll pay anything for him.”

A little girl wanted Poison to pull a carriage? Who gave their little girls carriages and ‘ponies’ to pull them? Anyways, I knew this was a boy who knew nothing about horses; he had called Poison a pony, when Poison was 15.3 hands high — quite a monster for a ‘pony’. Ponies were 14 hands high or shorter, and horses were 15 hands high or taller.

“Well, he’s not for sale,” I noted. My voice was stronger in defiance and rage that this boy would ask me to sell my prized possession — my horse. “And you can’t have him. I wouldn’t sell him for anything. Good day, sir.” With that, I hung up. The boy was still replying when the phone made a click to signal the connection severed.

Take that, you horse-stealing thief, I thought to myself, my mood a bit better knowing that I still owned Poison. I won’t tell mom about the phone call; she might find the number and call back if she knew that someone wanted to buy Poison.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter Three

I decided that, after three days, I should go and visit my horse. After all, if I’m going to stop people from buying him, I should take care of him. After all, who ever heard of an experienced horse rider that abandoned her horse after one accident?

So I walked with a bit of a limp across our lawn and to the barn. I slid back the heavy door and drew my coat tight around my shoulders. Nickering and neighing echoed down the long aisle, and I smiled at the sound of Poison’s unique whinny.

I walked down the aisle and peeked into the stalls; the horses had been kept inside because of the cold temperature. When I reached Poison’s stall, I paused. Do I really want to go in there? I asked myself. Maybe it was too early to visit my horse; I might start crying again.

Go on, you big sissy, I argued with myself. I unbolted the door and slid it back, reaching up and hugged Poison’s neck, breathing in his dusty scent.

“I missed you, boy,” I said, and kissed him on the nose. “How about we go on a short walk?” I had renewed hope that I could forget what happened and move on with my life; maybe find another friend… or maybe just find a friend in my horse.

I clipped the lead line and halter onto Poison, and led him out of the stall. He didn’t protest or do anything; he just walked alongside me as if he understood my feelings. We walked around the barn and I talked to him. I told him everything, from how much I cry when thinking about Jazz to how much I love my mom’s pancakes.

When we returned to Poison’s stall, I shut the door after giving him an apple and a kiss on the nose. I felt much better as I walked back to the house from the barn; all of my worries had been lifted when I talked to Poison, for he was the only one who could listen and not have to say anything. He made me feel better, and he hadn’t done anything except walk beside me.

After those few shared moments, I spent as much time as possible with Poison and Toxic. I rode Poison a few times, but didn’t even consider putting a saddle onto Toxic. I decided to retire him so that he would never get in another accident and risk being blamed for it.

Still, even when I was with Poison and Toxic, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach whenever I thought about Jazz. I couldn’t even say a word starting with ‘j’ for fear of chills and a loss of interest in whatever I was doing. Mom learned about this, and avoided saying Jazz’s name as much as possible.

But one day, the inevitable day, my mom came up to me as I was wolfing down my breakfast. My heart thudded at the solid and unrevealing look on Mom’s face. She put a hand on my shoulder and, with dark eyes, spoke.

“Sam, dear, I need to ask you something. It’s about… Jazz.”

I shuddered as Mom said Jazz’s name. I dropped my fork and looked her in the eye. “What is it, Mom? And make it quick, I’m taking Poison out today for a nice ride down the road. His feet are getting long; we need to call the farrier soon…” I trailed off, seeing the look in her eyes; it silenced me completely and made my heart skip a beat.

“It’s not about Poison; it’s about Jazz’s family. Jazz’s mother called me today, wanting to share some news. But I guess I should ask; Do you want to know, or get Jazz out of your life forever?”

I slid down in my chair a few inches and winced at Jazz’s name once again. Toughen up, I told myself. You can’t be a baby forever, you know. You’re going to have to face Jazz’s family…Eventually. Maybe not today, but eventually.

“Sure, Mom,” I said, averting my eyes. She patted my hair down.

Mom sighed and pulled out a chair. My heart thumped with the rhythm of her words; my palms began to sweat, and I licked my suddenly dry lips. Mom said, “Jazz’s mother wants Toxic back. Don’t be sad — it’s for a good use. Jazz’s mother just had her baby; I told you about that, right?”
I held back my winces at Jazz’s name and answered, “No…Jazz told me.” Just saying the words sent a chill down my spine and goose bumps down my arms and legs. But I said Jazz’s name, and that was a big accomplishment for me.

“Oh. Well, she wants Toxic back to be the baby’s — her name is Jessica — and to have as a pet. They bought Jessie a miniature horse to sit on and play with until she gets bigger. But once she does get bigger, they’re selling the miniature and letting Toxic be Jessica’s horse.” Mom waited for my reaction.

“Cool,” I said stiffly, through my teeth. My jaw ached from clenching my teeth so hard. I loosened my jaw a bit and resisted rubbing it. I couldn’t show my mom how much I disliked hearing of another little girl in Jazz’s family. Jazz was the only child, the only important one. No, I told myself, she was the important one. But now she’s…dead…and Jessica’s taken her place. So suck it up and deal with it. Jazz is behind us, and now it’s up to Jessica to live up to her greatness…her quality…her friendship.

“Just thought you’d like to know,” Mom said, standing. “Oh, and one more thing. They’d like you to teach Jessie — that’s what they call her, because Jessica is too much of a mouthful — how to sit on and eventually ride a horse. They want Jessie to live up to Jazz’s name and her reputation with you. Think of Jessie as a replacement for Jazz…and a sign that Jazz’s family have forgiven you for the accident.”

With that, Mom stood and left the room, bustling into the TV room to scold Jacob for turning on the TV too loud.

A few minutes later, as I was washing my plate and cup and Mom was still raging at Jacob, the phone rang. I thought nothing of it and answered it, taking it up to my room to avoid disturbing Mom’s scolding.

“Hello, this is Samantha Pine,” I said, “How may I help you?”

A teenage boy’s voice came over the phone, carefree, “Hello. This is Jonny Gallerson, and I’d like to offer eight thousand dollars for your horse, Uncovered Poison. I called a few weeks ago, and my offer was rejected. But my little sister would like your horse to —”

“Pull her carriage,” I interrupted. “I know. And I’ve told you before, I’m not giving you Poison. If you call one more time I’m calling the police.” With that, I pushed the ‘END’ button and leapt down the stairs to place the phone back into its stand.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter Four

Two days later, Mom came up to me again, holding the phone in one hand and covering the speaker of the phone with the other.

“Sam, Jazz’s mother is on the phone,” Mom said. “She wants to know if you’re going to teach Jessica to sit on a horse or not. If you’re not, then they’ll just pay for a trainer; but we don’t want them to spend money on a trainer when we have one right here…you.”

“No, Mom,” I said, “I don’t want to teach Jessica to sit on a horse…I might cry if I go near Jazz’s house or her family ever again.”

Mom nodded and spoke into the phone, relaying my message in kinder words. Then she covered the speaker and said, “Is it alright to give Toxic back, though? They say they’ll pay seven or eight thousand dollars for him if we’re not willing to part with him for free.”

I looked into her eyes and saw unease there; Mom didn’t like Jazz’s family very much, and rarely spoke with them unless it was absolutely necessary. The accident had left Mom and Jazz’s parents even more rivaled, and even if Jazz’s family said they didn’t blame me for what happened to Jazz, I didn’t believe them.

“Yes, Mom,” I said, wiping my eyes. Even though I didn’t ride Toxic, I still loved him and felt a possessive feeling about him. I had bought him to keep him as a reminder of Jazz, and parting with him would be like ripping out part of my heart.

Mom nodded and went into the other room to talk with Jazz’s family.

That evening, Jazz’s parents came over with a horse trailer. When they let down the ramp, there was a foal inside. This puzzled me, and made we wonder: Who’s foal was this, and were did it come from? Did Jazz’s parents know about it? Should I ask about it? I ended up asking about it.

“Who’s horse is that?” I asked stiffly. It was a beautiful brown appaloosa colt with sparkling brown eyes. I fell in love with him immediately. His eyes searched me and made me shift uncomfortably; I felt as if he could see all the way through me, all the way to my heart. I felt as if he knew all my secrets already, even though he might not even belong here.

“Oh,” Jazz’s mother said, “that’s a colt out of Toxic’s half-sister. We thought that we’d give him to you as a gift, so that you’d still have part of Toxic’s family line in your barn.” She smiled sweetly and led the colt out.

The colt stumbled and blinked against the light from the setting sun. I took his lead line and stroked his soft and fluffy neck. I watched with a few tears running down my cheeks as Toxic was loaded into the trailer. I let my Mom hold the colt’s lead as I went and kissed Toxic on the nose and said goodbye to him.

As the trailer drove away, Mom said, “What are you going to name the colt?”

I stepped back, surprised. I thought as I walked to the barn and found a stall with a broken door. Mom peeled off the top half of the bottom of the half-door, making the door just small enough for the colt to see over. I kept thinking as we worked. What was the right name for this foal? It had to be something majestic, or something that fit him and where he came from. He would be Toxic’s replacement, minus the painful memories that came when I saw Toxic.

I turned to Mom as we were walking back to the house. I told her, “I’m going to name him Memory — Jazz’s Memory.” Mom just smiled, putting an arm over my shoulder.