High Hurdles Collection Two (8 page)

By Sunday evening, DJ had all her homework caught up but the book report. She tried skimming the book just enough to do the report but kept getting caught up in it. She filled out the book report form as much as she could and kept on reading.

By 8:00, they still hadn't heard from Lindy and Robert.

“When's my daddy coming?” Both boys looked up at DJ from the floor by her feet.

“Got me.” DJ looked to Gran for an answer. If they'd asked once, they'd asked a million times.

“Sometimes planes are late,” Gran said. “Why don't you go sit on Grandpa's lap? Maybe he'll read you a story.”

“He's sleeping,” DJ hissed.

“Oh, you're right.” Gran gathered both of the twins close. “You go get a book, and I'll read you a story.”

DJ went back to Nancy Drew.

Nine o'clock came and went.

“But I want to stay up and see my daddy,” Bobby argued when Gran said it was time for bed.

DJ'd finally figured out a way to tell them apart. She'd put a red shirt on Bobby and a blue one on Billy. They thought it was funny. Even without their color-coded shirts, DJ knew Bobby as the one who argued more.

“How about if I call the airport and see when the plane is arriving?” At Gran's suggestion, their frowns turned upside down. “While I do that, you go get into your pajamas.” They scampered out of the room and down the hall. “Daddy's coming, Daddy's coming!” they chanted.

“They've been on the ground for over an hour,” Gran announced when she hung up. “They could be here any minute.”

Joe checked his watch. “Depends on how long it takes to get their luggage. I'll go dish up some ice cream. Come on, DJ, you can chop the nuts for sundaes.”

“Do you have good fudge sauce?” She put the book down and got to her feet, taking time to stretch in the process.

“The best. Mrs. Whatshername's Fudge Sauce.”

“You're a good man, Charlie Brown,” DJ quoted the last book Gran had read to the boys.

The sundaes had disappeared and another book had been read when the sound of a car made both boys sit up straight. “Don't need a watchdog with them on guard.” Joe let loose so Bobby could slide to the floor. When they heard the car slow down and turn into the driveway, both of them darted to the window. “Daddy's here! Daddy's here!”

DJ breathed a sigh of relief. While she hadn't said anything to anyone, she'd been praying for a safe drive from the airport. She'd heard that most accidents happen within five miles of home.

“Daddy! Daddy!” The twins both would have pelted out the door into the rain if DJ and Joe hadn't grabbed them.

“Sorry we're late,” Robert called, helping Lindy out of the car at the same time. “Fog in Los Angeles.” Arm in arm, the two came up the walk. The glow from the yard light set haloes of light around them.

The look they gave each other told the whole story. DJ swallowed a lump in her throat. Her mother's face glowed like the streetlights lending iridescent shimmers to the fog.

Robert wore a child on each arm as they all gaggled in the living room.

“We was sick.” Bobby put his hands on Robert's cheeks and turned his head so he could look right in his father's eyes.

“Real sick,” said the other.

“Nanny Ria is in the horsepistol.”

“Horsepistol?” Robert thought a moment. “Oh, the hospital.” He turned to his father. “What's been going on?”

“Strep and flu. We all had it and mostly got over it, but they put Maria in the hospital yesterday with pneumonia.”

“So you've had the boys since when?”

“Last Sunday afternoon, late. I went in to get them.” Gran stood between DJ and Lindy.

“They weren't supposed to come out here until
this
afternoon. I'm sorry, Dad, if I'd known—”

“Nothing you could have done. This whole area's been under siege. You two didn't get it?”

“No, nothing.” Lindy reached for one of the boys and sat down on the sofa with Billy on her lap. “We brought you some presents,” she said after kissing his cheek and ruffling his hair. “DJ, could you go get the extra bag out of the trunk?”

“I will.” Joe reached for Robert's keys.

DJ snagged a jacket off the hook in the closet and followed him out the door. Again, the boys took center stage. She might as well have not been in the room. But when something needed doing, who did Lindy ask?

Me, that's who. Good old DJ, the walking, talking mule. Good for fetching and carrying, but always easy to ignore. Is this the way life is going to be?

Chapter • 6

DJ still had a headache in the morning. Or was it another?

“Bye, honey, I'll call you later.”

“Bye, Daddy.” The two voices spoke as one.

The door closed on Robert. In a minute, he started his truck and backed out the drive.

On this first morning as a family in their own house, DJ heard it all. She forced her eyes to remain open. No way was she going to stay home from school today. Headache or no, she forced her muscles to move and headed for the bathroom.

“DJ's up! Hi, DJ! You want to play Legos?”

Big mistake. She should have checked to make sure the hall was clear first. “Sorry, guys, I gotta get ready for school.”

“We can help.”

“No … I don't think so.”

“Bobby, Billy, your breakfast is ready.”

The way miraculously cleared in front of her as the boys pounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Did they
never
try slow motion?

DJ took a shower and washed her hair. Even that small action made her tired. This looked to be a long day, no two ways about it. She was brushing her teeth when the pounding came on the door.

“We need the bathroom, DJ. You gots to hurry.”

DJ groaned. “In a minute.” She squeezed toothpaste onto the brush.

“I gotta go.”

“Use the other bathroom.”

“Can't. Mommy is in there.” A hand jiggled the doorknob.

DJ groaned louder. With a mouthful of toothpaste, she pulled her nightshirt back on over her wet hair and opened the door. She went back to scrubbing her teeth but turned when she caught two blue pairs of eyes staring at her. “Now what?” She spit, then caught water in her hand to rinse her mouth.

“You still in here.”

She spit out the rinse. “So?”

“So we gotta go.” They danced in place.

Groan number three. “Look, guys …” She caught the look of distress on their faces and threw up her hands. “Okay, I'll leave.”
I've given them baths and dressed them. But now I have to leave
. She shook her head and went to her own room to dress. The day was growing longer instead of shorter.

By the time Lindy dropped DJ off at the high school, her ears were ringing from the constant chatter and her cheek was sticky from the Bs' good-bye kisses. Her mother waved good-bye with a cheerful smile.

“Have a good day, dear.”

“Right.”

“Bye, DJ! Bye!”

She turned from the curb to catch one of the high-school boys laughing. Was it at her? She could feel the heat in her face, and this time it wasn't from running a temperature.

“Hey, glad to see you could make it.” Amy flashed her a grin. She looked again. “What's up?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your face—it's all red.”

DJ shook her head. “You don't want to know.”

“Sure, I do.” Amy switched a couple of things from her backpack to her locker. The warning bell rang. Together they walked toward their homeroom. “So?”

“You're used to little brothers and sisters.”

“Yeah?”

“I'm not.” DJ sighed. “They are so … so busy. They talk all the time, they run up and down the stairs, they need the bathroom, they …”

“They fight?”

DJ frowned and shook her head. “I guess not, or at least not much.”

“Then you've got it made. Fighting's the worst.”

They slipped in through the door just as the final bell rang.

“Would you ladies like to take your seats?” Mr. Deushane arched an eyebrow. “Welcome back, Miss Randall.”

The flames fanned her face again. Couldn't he just call her DJ like she asked? But, no, Mr. Deushane called all students by their last names, with a Mister or Miss in front. “Thank you.”

“Everyone brought their homework?”

DJ breathed a sigh of relief. She'd gotten all of hers done, even the makeup. She passed her papers forward with the rest of the students. Since they were studying nutrition, she'd drawn the new pyramid for the food groups, adding chocolate in parentheses at the bottom.

When he'd collected all the papers, he handed out one of his own. Sporadic groans rose at the word
quiz
at the top of the paper. “All right, everyone.” He raised his hands as if directing a choir. “Together, and on three. One, two, three.” Now everyone groaned in sync.

DJ smothered a giggle. While some of the kids made fun of Mr. Deushane behind his back, she thought he was funny, no matter how dull the topic might seem.

When DJ got to art class, she breathed in clay, oil paint, acrylic, glue, paint thinner—all the odors that when mingled together said
art room
. To DJ's mind, the smell of the art room was second-best to horse. Gran's rose water came in a close third.

“You got over the bug, huh?” Mrs. Adams, the teacher, asked. “Glad to see you back.” As the others straggled in, she donned her paint-smeared smock and began moving from station to station to check on individual projects. The still life of an empty picture frame, a cylindrical terra cotta pitcher, and a purple silk iris in a clear water glass still graced the top of a draped table. All the students were working in pastels, so the smell of chalk dust tickled DJ's nose, making her sneeze. She took her pad out of her cubbyhole and perched on her stool. Since she'd been gone a whole week, she was just beginning the drawing.

She'd finished roughing in the outlines when Mrs. Adams stopped at her side. “Check the perspective again on that frame. It's off a bit.”

DJ stared at the still life, then at her drawing. She erased the top line and squinted to see if hers followed the other angles. Lightly redrawing it, she checked again, using her pencil at a slant for both.

“Good,” Mrs. Adams said with a nod and a pat on the shoulder. “If you have time after school one day, you could stay and catch up.” She smiled. “I know, you have to get to the Academy.”

“I'll try for Wednesday, if that's okay with you.”

“Sure. You working on anything at home?”

“I've drawn a couple of my new filly, Storm Clouds.” DJ turned on the stool, her heels hooked over the rung. “She is the cutest thing you ever saw. She hides behind her dam—that's the mother. …”

At DJ's questioning eyebrow, Mrs. Adams nodded. “Thanks, you know I don't know horse terms.”

“ … and peeks around her hind legs, with the dam's tail feathered over her face.”

“And you drew that?”

“A couple of times now. My aunt wants to show it to a friend of hers in Connecticut who owns some gift stores. They might want me to make copies for framing and others in note cards—you know, like Amy and I did at Christmas.”

“That's wonderful. You know, if you could spend as much time with your art as you do with your horses, you'd …” She stepped back with a shrug. “I know, I know, but you can't blame me for trying. You want to jump in the Olympics, and I want you designing the symbols.”

“Yeah.” But a glow warmed her stomach region.

“You want to bring one in to show me?”

DJ shrugged. “Sure, I'll bring it tomorrow. Why?”

“Well, there's a drawing teacher in San Francisco who has offered to take ten students for a weekend at her home and studio. She chooses them based on what she thinks of application drawings.”

“Ten? From all the high schools?” DJ shook her head. “No chance.”