The Mare

Velvet

It was dark when we got there, but still, I wanted to see the horses. I asked Ginger to walk to the barn with me because I wasn’t used to the kind of dark it was out there anymore. But I made her wait outside and she didn’t mind because I asked her nice.

Inside the barn was warm and right away the horses moved and said hello to me all differently. I went up to them one by one and nearly all of them came to me — Joker snorted and got his spit on me and I just laughed and rubbed him. Rocki looked even happy, and Officer Murphy moved his head up and down for me to rub his head more. Then Fiery Girl came and I saw she had this thing on her face. It was leather and metal and it was wrapped around her throat and face and it made her look like a serial killer. She came up and tried to bite the wood of her stall and the metal thing seemed to choke her. I went and got Ginger and brought her in to show her and she just said there was probably a reason for it, I should ask Pat the next day. She tried to pet the mare, but Fiery Girl tossed her head and gave her a “don’t mess with me” look. I realized Ginger did not know anything about it.

Still, when we went back out, Ginger put her arm around me and said, “Are you okay?” and I said yes, and put my arm around her and we walked like that for a while. I wondered what it would be like if Strawberry was here now.

The next day I asked Pat about the thing on my mare’s face.

“It’s so she won’t crib,” she said. “Remember the way she bites her feed bucket and the door of her stall? It’s bad for her stomach because she takes in too much air when she does it, so we’re trying to break her of it. Don’t worry, the strap doesn’t hurt her.”

“Can she eat with it?”

“Oh yeah,” said Pat. “It’s lunchtime now — you want to help feed ’em?”

I did. The horses got excited when they heard the grain coming. Fiery Girl kicked and neighed, and the others said, Yeah yeah, give it now! I thought she’d be glad when I came to give it, but instead she acted mad—her ears went flat and she snapped and kicked the door. Pat said, “Don’t be afraid,” and handed me the bucket of grain.

And I went in and she ran up on me in her killer mask like she would knock me down and stomp me. I was so scared I almost dropped the bucket, but I didn’t show it. I didn’t even look at her, even when she bumped me with her nose. I poured the food and she went at it, and Pat said, “Good work!” But I was scared and the horse knew it.

I think Pat knew also, but she still asked me to clean the mare’s stall later that afternoon. Pat moved Fiery Girl out into an empty stall and the mare went powerfully, making me and Gare flatten on the walls. But after I cleaned the stall, Pat asked if I wanted to put her back. I said yes, because Gare was there but also because I felt the mare looking at me like she wanted me to do it. Pat put the lead rope on her and handed her to me. I led her to the stall and tried to go in first. That’s when she blasted past me so hard she threw me into the wall. Pat came between me and the mare and yelled and took the lead rope. Beverly passed by and said, “I see you’re getting to know your friend better.”

Pat said, “You okay?” and I was, but still I was shaking; she threw me like a hurricane throws a house.

—

I wanted to tell Ginger about it, but I was embarrassed. Because this was the horse that was supposed to like me, and now she seemed to think I was crap. Also because Ginger might get worried and then decide I shouldn’t see the horses and maybe even tell my mom. So I just listened to her tell me she was painting a real picture of her sister because of me.

I said, “Why because of me?”

And she said, “Because you were asking why I didn’t do a real picture and I thought maybe I should.”

I asked, “Could I see?” and she took me up to her studio.

But the new painting was even more crazy than the other one. It was ugly too, like I wanted to say, Did you hate your sister? But I couldn’t say that and I couldn’t think of anything else to say that was nice, so I just looked around. And I saw something scary: a plastic doll like for little kids dressed in leopard-spotted clothes that looked homemade with even leopard socks and a hat. It was beat-up and it had one of its eyes rolled up in its head. It looked like it was in a Chucky movie, where a doll goes crazy and kills people. Except this doll looked too retarded to kill anybody. I thought, Is Ginger retarded?

Which for some reason — the creepy doll and Ginger’s maybe-retardation — made me remember when I woke up and sneaked in the hall and heard Paul say those things about pushing the limit and the boundaries, and then Ginger mumble-hissing about birthdays. It made me remember the lady on the bus talking about giving “them” a “example.” I started listening to Paul and Ginger when they didn’t know; I even pretended to be asleep and then creeped down the stairs again, to see if they were saying those things. But they just talked to each other like normal people, and the only times I heard my name, I didn’t hear anything bad in their voices, I only heard good. It was a strange kind of good that made me feel strange. But it was still good.