Free Fear of Falling by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

place is eerily quiet, deserted.
    I rein Comet to a stop, and we stand there, looking at the jumps. Comet’s ears flick back and forth as she waits, trusting me, waiting for me to tell her what to do.
    I’ll show Dad. I’ll jump and jump and jump till I can do it. No matter how many times I fall, I’ll get up again and keep jumping. Maybe I’ll even try out for the Olympics someday—and I’ll actually win!
    That’ll show him.
    I kick Comet in the sides, and we start toward the first jump.
    Comet seems slow, unsure maybe, so I turn her around and we start over. I have to do it just right.
    â€œLet’s go, Comet, what are you waiting for? We can do this!” I say. “Come on, girl, don’t quit on me! What’s the matter—are you afraid?”
    Comet lowers her head and nibbles at a piece of hay on the ground.
    Then I realize what I just said.
    I sound just like my father.
    I let the reins fall slack. I’m not going to jump this horse. She’s tired and hungry. It wouldn’t be safe, not for me or for Comet. I’d just be pushing her to try to prove something to myself—and Dad.
    The memory of my father jumping King’s Shadow flashes into my mind. What was he trying to prove?
    I pat Comet on the shoulder. “Sorry, girl,” I tell her. “You deserve better.” Then I slide out of the saddle and lead her toward the barn. She deserves some dinner and an extra-good grooming.
    Suddenly I notice a man silhouetted in the light of the barn, watching me from the doorway.
    Oh, no. I really don’t want to see Dad. Not now. Not yet.
    I look away, but I force my feet to keep walking forward. I’m not going to run away from him, the way he ran away from us when the going got tough.
    As I get closer, I look up—and realize that it’s not Dad. It’s Mr. Quinn.
    â€œHey,” I say.
    â€œWant some help with Comet?” he asks. “Looks like you gave her quite a workout.”
    He doesn’t press for an explanation, so I just shrug. “Sure.”
    We cross-tie Comet in the grooming stall, and I fetch the grooming kit—hoof pick, brushes, comb, and towel. Using the pick, I clean all the dirt and gravel out of each hoof, watching Mr. Quinn out of the corner of my eye. His hands are practiced and sure as he brushes the sweat from Comet’s coat, and the horse seems to enjoy his firm, gentle touch. My hands aren’t as experienced, but I hope Comet can tell how I feel through them anyway.
    I finish up with the hooves and move to the mane and tail. I spray on a detangler and then work slowly, using a comb and my fingers to get rid of all the tangles. Mr. Quinn takes the towel to give Comet’s coat a final polish.
    After we finish, we check on King’s Shadow and Trickster. Both of them have some healing to do, and I know Mr. Quinn will make sure it’s on horse-time, not people-time.
    I feel like Mr. Quinn’s using horse-time on me, too, the way he lets me learn slowly, bit by bit.
    And he’s using horse-time now as he waits for me to say what’s on my mind.
    I lean over the door to Trickster’s stall and breathe in the rich smell of horse and hay. To me it’s the best smell in the world.
    â€œI found out why Dad really came back,” I find myself saying.
    â€œOh?” Mr. Quinn picks a piece of straw off his plaid shirt.
    â€œYeah. He got fired from his job out in Texas. The only reason he’s back is that there’s a friend here who can get him a job.” I swallow back a sob that’s trying to form in my throat. “Didn’t have anything to do with us.”
    Mr. Quinn clears his throat. “Yes, I knew he’d lost his job.”
    â€œYou did?” I exclaim.
    Mr. Quinn nods. “I thought your father should tell you about it himself. Wasn’t my place.”
    I guess I can understand that. “I don’t think I can ever forgive him for lying