Amber Brown Horses Around Read online

  Can you try not to be so mad at each other anymore?

  I Love You,

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “You have got to be kidding!”

  That is Kelly. We are standing at Herbert, and I have just told Kelly and Brandi that I was wrong about Hannah being the one behind all the pranks.

  “You mean we got in all that trouble for nothing?” Brandi exclaims. “Bulletin! Bulletin! Bulletin! Amber Brown is on my poopyhead list!”

  “I know, I know!” I say. “I’m sorry!”

  “Even so, it was a pretty awesome prank.” Kelly is smiling.

  “True that,” Brandi agrees.

  The three of us look at one another and grin. Silence may not always be good, but I know that we are all thinking the same two things. One . . . . . despite how it worked out, we had fun putting the prank together. And two . . . . . . . we will never say that out loud.

  “But you’re still on my poopyhead list,” Brandi says.

  “So what do you want me to do?” I say. “Drink manure tea?”

  Brandi and Kelly both make gagging noises.

  • • •

  Hannah and I have made it through lunch without talking to each other. But it’s not an “I hate you” kind of silence. It’s more of a “What am I going to do about you?” kind of silence.

  You would think silence is silence, but this really does feel different.

  As we leave the mess hall, I see her struggling with her swim bag and her crutches.

  I walk over. “Hannah, can I carry that for you?”

  She bites her lip and hands the bag to me without saying anything.

  We walk down the path to the lake. We move slowly, of course, because of Hannah’s crutches.

  Neither of us talks.

  This is awkward, but at least it’s a start.

  I am not terribly good at not talking. Finally the silence gets to me. “Hannah, I didn’t realize until last night that I was wrong and you really hadn’t done any of the pranks. It’s my fault you got hurt, so I think it’s kind of fair to help you carry your stuff around . . . . . . but only if you don’t mind.”

  She looks as if she’s about to say, “You’d be the last person on Earth I’d want to touch my stuff.” But that is just me making another assumption. All she says is “Okay.”

  Well, at least it’s a word.

  At the waterfront, Hannah goes over to her swimming group and I go to join Colin and Pete at Polliwog Pond.

  I watch Colin swim two laps doing the crawl. He lifts his head and waves at me. I think about telling him I know about the “secret admirer” letter.

  I decide it would only embarrass him . . . and me too.

  Instead, I call, “Colin! That’s the farthest you’ve gone yet!”

  Pete grins. “My two favorite Polliwogs are close to passing that lap test.”

  Pete has us both swim laps. I try doing the crawl, but it makes me really tired.

  At the end of the second lap, I look up and see Hannah standing on the dock. “The sidestroke is better for distance,” she says. “If you do that, I think you can make eight laps with no problem.”

  Then she swings her crutches around and heads back to the beach.

  When swim period is over, I carry her swim bag to the bunk. Neither of us says anything as we walk, but it feels different somehow.

  Cleo smiles when she sees us come in.

  “I’m heading up to the stables,” I tell Hannah. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  “What are you going for?” she asks. “It’s not your riding period.”

  “I love to brush Cinnamon and just hang out with her. Do you want to come? There’s a chair in her stall you can rest on.”

  “Well, I am bored,” she says. “Normally during my free period I practice gymnastics. But I can’t do that because of my ankle.”

  I know she is trying to make me feel guilty. Or, at least, I assume that . . . . . . . . Maybe she just doesn’t know how bad that makes me feel. I want to shout at her to stop poking me . . . . . . . . I already said I was sorry. Instead, I count to ten. Max has told me that this is a good thing to do when you want to keep your tongue from getting ahead of your brain.

  “Come on.” I pick up her backpack.

  Hannah sighs, but she gets up on her crutches.

  At the stables I open the door to Cinnamon’s stall. Hannah hangs back.

  I hook Cinnamon’s halter to the stable wall.

  “You can sit over there.” I motion to the chair in the corner.

  Hannah doesn’t go. She seems to both want to stand near Cinnamon and get away.

  “She’s big,” Hannah says.

  “Let her smell you,” I suggest.

  “That’s what Carrie said, but horses have big teeth.”

  “Just let her smell the back of your hand,” I say. “You can keep your fingers away from her.”

  Hannah holds out her hand. Cinnamon bows her head a little.

  “I like her blaze,” Hannah says.

  I see Carrie looking at us over the stall door. She nods to me, then walks on without saying anything. Even without words I feel she is pleased with me.

  • • •

  “Well, that was something I never thought I would see.”

  It is after dinner, and Justin and I are walking to the craft shack.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “You and Hannah Burton walking side by side without flames bursting out of your heads.”

  I laugh. “I doubt we’ll ever be friends. But it’s nice not to feel like we are enemies.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Carrie blows her whistle. “All right, you guys, I want this place spotless before your parents get here!”

  It is visitors’ weekend. Most parents will be coming up the first day. But the camp has added a second day for kids like me whose parents are divorced.

  I guess my parents aren’t the only ones who can’t get along.

  “You’ve only got an hour,” Carrie warns. “The parental floodgates open at ten!”

  I can’t wait to see Dad. I want to show him Cinnamon. And I’ve got another surprise for him as well.

  We get busy cleaning. I figured I would help Hannah, but everyone pitches in. And she does as much as she can, which is nice.

  Our bunk has never looked so clean. I didn’t realize that “visiting day” would mean “cleaning morning.”

  In Dad’s last letter he told me that he is so excited to see me that he wishes the camp would let parents in even earlier than 10:00 A.M.

  This “earlier than 10:00 A.M.” thing is not like Dad. He is more likely to be late than early. In fact, Mom and Dad used to fight because sometimes he was late picking me up.

  We wait for our parents at the flagpole. The camp has set up some tables with coffee and snacks. There are games to play, but since you can see the parking lot from the flagpole, most kids are busy watching out for their parents.

  Suddenly I see a flash of red. It’s the Hot Tamale. I start running down the hill to the parking lot. Then I stop. Another car has pulled in next to the Hot Tamale . . . . . . . Max’s car! Did Mom and Max get mixed up and forget that today was Dad’s day to visit?

  I have a sick feeling in my stomach. I DO NOT want Mom and Dad to get in a fight right here in the parking lot!

  Dad and Miss Isobel get out of the Hot Tamale. Mom and Max get out of their car. All four of them are waving and smiling.

  What the heck is going on?

  I stand still. I don’t know who to run to or what to do. Mom and Dad talk for a moment, then start toward me.

  Max and Miss Isobel hang back.

  “Amber!” Mom cries when she is closer.

  She is smiling and holding her arms out.

  I look fro
m her to Dad.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “We need to talk to you,” Dad says.

  “Is there someplace we can go?” Mom asks. “Just the three of us?”

  “What about Max and Miss Isobel?”

  “They’re fine,” Dad says. “They know we want to talk to you.”

  “Ummmm . . . . . do you mind sitting on the ground?” I ask.

  Mom and Dad look at each other and shrug.

  “The ground is fine,” Mom says. “It’s summer and we’re at camp!”

  “Then I know a great tree for sitting under. Its name is Herbert. It’s where Brandi and Kelly and I go to talk.”

  “Let’s go,” Dad says.

  “Just a second,” I say. “I haven’t hugged Max or Miss Isobel.”

  I run to them and give each a quick hug.

  Then I lead Mom and Dad to Herbert.

  Part of me is scared . . . . . part of me is confused . . . . . part of me feels like I don’t even know what my parts are. What is going on here?

  One thing that’s going on is that we are walking together. I can’t remember how long it’s been since the three of us did that.

  “So this is Herbert?” Dad asks when we get there. He puts his hand on the trunk. “Pleased to meet you, Herbert.”

  I giggle.

  We all sit.

  “A mighty fine tree,” Mom says.

  “Clearly a good place for planning nefarious pranks,” Dad says.

  “Now, Phil,” Mom says. But she doesn’t sound angry. It’s almost playful.

  “Sorry,” Dad says.

  “Will you two tell me what is going on?” I cry. “My head is about to explode!”

  They look at each other. Then Mom reaches into her purse. At the same time, Dad reaches into his pocket. They each pull out a piece of paper.

  “This is what’s going on,” Dad says.

  I realize they are both holding my letter.

  “Are you mad at me for what I wrote?”

  Mom shakes her head and I can see that there are tears in her eyes. “Oh, honey. We’re not mad at you. We’re angry at ourselves because it took our wonderful daughter to make us look at how we’ve been behaving.”

  “It wasn’t a pretty thing to think about,” Dad says. “I know you were embarrassed by how we acted on the phone with Miss Flo. I’m embarrassed too. And ashamed. After I got your letter, I decided I needed to talk to your mom.”

  “And I decided I needed to talk to your dad,” Mom says. She smiles. “It was a nice moment. Your dad called just as I was picking up the phone to call him. Tell her what the first thing you said was, Phil.”

  Dad smiles. “I said to your mom, ‘We gotta make a bigger circle.’”

  He stands up and puts out his hands. Mom stands up too. “Come here, Amber,” she says softly.

  I stand up.

  They put their arms around me.

  “We can’t live together,” Dad says softly. “But we can sure as heck do a better job at getting along for your sake, Amber.”

  I start to cry.

  But not because I’m sad.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I, Amber Brown, have been told many times that I have a vivid imagination. But I would never, ever, ever have dreamed I would be introducing Cinnamon to Mom, Dad, Max, and Miss Isobel all at the same time.

  When I call her name, Cinnamon sticks her head out of the stall.

  “Oh, she is most beautiful,” Miss Isobel coos.

  “You get on top of that big thing?” Max asks.

  “I always loved horses when I was a girl,” Mom tells me.

  “Let’s see you ride, Amber,” Dad says.

  Carrie, who has been watching this, has me show them how I’ve learned to put on the saddle and bridle. I check the cinch. Twice. Carrie winks at me.

  I swing my leg over the saddle. “Walk on,” I say to Cinnamon as I take her into the ring.

  Carrie sets up a low jump in the center of the ring, then nods to me. I nudge Cinnamon with my knees and she moves into a trot. We circle the ring a couple of times, then go cleanly over the jump.

  Carrie gives me a thumbs-up.

  “That’s wonderful, Amber!” Mom cries.

  I get down from the saddle.

  “I have one more thing to show you,” I tell the four of them. “Just let me change into my swimsuit.”

  When I am ready, we walk to the lake. Justin’s parents are there, standing on the dock. Mom and Dad must have warned them that they were going to show up together, because the Danielses do not fall into the water.

  I turn to Mom and Dad. “Remember how I told you I couldn’t swim? Well, watch this!”

  I run to the end of the dock and jump in.

  Using the sidestroke, I swim out to the raft. Justin is there, along with a whole lot of other kids. It is Justin who comes to the ladder and holds out a hand to help me scramble up.

  He smiles. “Welcome aboard, Amber. I knew you would get here sooner or later.”

  The climbing part of the raft slopes above us. Together we make our way to the top.

  Standing side by side, we look back to the beach. Our families are there, Justin’s two parents and my mixed-up double family.

  But we can see more, much more.

  The beautiful blue lake surrounds us like a giant circle.

  Beyond it are the woods . . . . . . . and the world.

  I, Amber Brown, am one happy camper.