Horse Mad For Sophie and Tolina
Dianne Wolfer lives in a seaside town on the south coast of Western Australia. She has published three other novels for young adults, Dolphin Song (1995), Choices (2001) and Border Line (1998). Dianne s most recent work is a picture book set on the Kokoda Track, Photographs in the Mud (2005), illustrated by Brian Harrison-Lever. You can find out more about Dianne s books on her website: www.wn.com.au/dianne Horse Mad Dianne Wolfer illustrated by Sharon Thompson Fremantle Arts Centre Press Australia s finest small publisher
1 I ve got a problem. For two years I ve been a horse. Every morning I wake up, stretch my legs, roll onto my back and flick my mane. But that isn t my problem. At school I m part of the Horse Group. Well, that s what the other kids call us. We gallop around the 5
yard, swishing our tails and snorting. We call ourselves the Pony Club, but that s our secret name. If the other kids knew, they d tease us even more! But that isn t the problem either. My problem is my other secret. The one I can t tell anyone. Especially not my friends in the Pony Club. This problem began last month, on my eighth birthday. As soon as I woke up and gazed at the horse posters covering my bedroom wall, I knew something was wrong. Good morning, the horses 7
neighed, but when I tried to neigh back, nothing happened. I stretched and shook my mane. But it wasn t a mane any more: it had changed into hair! I sat up in shock as I realised the dreadful truth. I didn t feel like a horse any more. At first I didn t believe it. How could this happen? I d been crazy about horses for as long as I could remember. I rolled out of bed and picked up my Ponies Rule! T-shirt. It looked old and faded and I didn t want to wear it. I pulled on another shirt and tried not to panic. Then I peeked into the mirror. Even my teeth didn t look as horsey. It was true. Something weird had happened during the night. I d turned eight and I was no longer a horse. My life had changed forever! I sat on the bed and took a deep breath. Maybe it wasn t as bad as it seemed. Two of my pony friends had turned eight and they were still horsey. Perhaps if I tried something else I stamped my feet and imagined shiny black hooves. I looked down. They were still feet. I took another deep breath and swished my bottom. But it was no 8 9
use. My tail had disappeared. I gulped. How could I be in the Pony Club if I wasn t a pony? Maybe I could be a half-member. It wasn t that I suddenly hated horses or anything, I just couldn t be one any more. That wasn t so bad, was it? I thought about my friends and knew that it was. 2 I d been looking forward to my birthday for weeks. The other ponies were staying the night, all four of them. It should have been great. Each of us has a secret name. Sandy is Palomino because she has fair hair. Bree is called Appaloosa, or Loosa for short, because of her freckles. Holly s secret name is 10 11
Prancer she was born at Christmas. Rosie has red hair, so her name is Sorrel, and mine is Bay because I have dark hair. After the ponies arrived, we did the usual stuff, running about the yard, bucking and trotting. But when the others tossed their manes and galloped through the bush, leaping logs and shying at overhanging branches, I just trotted sadly behind. When they pushed their long noses into our laundry bucket for a drink, I felt silly. They turned to me and neighed in surprise. Luckily Mum called us in for tea before 13
anyone asked me to explain. Mum had made a chocolate cake in the shape of a stable. It had plastic horses peeping out from sponge-cake stable doors, and my name Alice iced on the roof between lucky horseshoes. There were biscuits in P and C shapes (for Pony Club), jelly with little carrot-shaped lollies in it and my favourite apple turnovers. After we d grazed for a while, we played Pass the Parcel and Loosa won the latest Hoofs magazine. Then we raced up and down the driveway and finally settled down to watch a wild stallion video in the evening. It should have been the best birthday party ever, but it wasn t. I felt so guilty about my secret, I just couldn t enjoy it. My friends knew something was wrong. They neighed and nuzzled me, but I still felt dreadful. In the morning, after they d left, Mum asked if I was okay. I didn t know what to say. She s been working all year to help me save for my dream horse. How could I tell her I wasn t sure I still wanted a real pony any more? 14 15
3 On Monday, I daydreamed my way through Maths. How could I be part of the Horse Group if I wasn t a horse? And if the others wouldn t let me stay in the Pony Club, who else could be my friend? Would I be all alone? During Silent Reading I looked around at the other girls in my class. There was the Cool Group. They were the ones who teased the Horse Group. I wasn t likely to find a friend there. Then there was the Sporty Group. I knew I d never fit in with them. They were ultra serious about their sports. Gabby and Ella were nice, but they d been best friends since Grade One. They had so many private jokes, I d never remember them all. Melanie was always sitting alone. She d probably like a friend, but I didn t want to spend recess searching for dead beetles. So that just left the boys. 16 17
I looked at the boys. Some of them were nice, but after Grade Two the only time they noticed girls was if we played Kiss Chasey, and the teachers had banned that. I sighed. There must be a way to become horsey again. I thought about it all day. By the time I walked home, I d come up with a plan. Mum, I yelled, dumping my bag in the hallway. Do we have any oats? Mmm, I think so. Porridge is made from oats, isn t it? Mum nodded. Then can I have porridge for my snack today? Instead of biscuits? 19
Mmm-hmm. Mum looked surprised but she took out the milk and a saucepan. What s brought this on? she asked. What? The sudden interest in porridge. Nothing, I just felt like a change. I haven t had porridge for ages. I opened the fridge. Where are the carrots? In the crisper. Can I have one? With your porridge? Mmm. Mum looked at me. Alice, are you feeling okay? Why? You re acting very strangely. I peeled the carrot. Don t worry, I ll be back to normal soon 20 21
4 Every day for a week I ate two carrots, three apples and a bowl of porridge, but there was no change. I even tried nibbling some of the hay in my guinea pig s cage, but it was too prickly to swallow. After dinner on Friday, Mum sat down to have a talk with me. Darling, she began. I know you love horses, and I m saving as fast as I can, but I think you re getting carried away. You re old enough to know the difference between real and make-believe. Eating horse food will not turn you into a horse. I sighed. I know, but it was worth a try. Mum kissed me and picked up one of my Bridle Club stories, but I took the book out of her hand. Let s have a different story tonight. Okay, what do you feel like, Black Beauty? I shook my head. How about 22 23
something completely different? Mum gave me a funny look. Auntie Karen sent you The Twits for your birthday, she said. Do you want to hear that? I nodded and snuggled under the blanket. As Mum read to me, I wondered whether I should tell her my problem, but then I remembered the hours she and I had spent looking at newspaper advertisements, dreaming about my perfect horse.
We wanted a quiet mare, about five years old. She would be a bay colour (like me), about thirteen or fourteen hands. As I listened to Mum reading, I didn t have the heart to disappoint her. Somehow I would become horsey again. At school on Monday it was becoming harder to fool my friends. What s wrong with you, Bay? Prancer asked as she danced towards the oval. Umm, my hoof hurts, I fibbed, looking around to see who was watching. Loosa nudged me. Come on, let s canter around the oval. I whinnied and pretended to hobble along behind. The next day our teacher said we could do projects on anything we liked. There are tadpoles in our pond, so I decided to find out more about frogs. Frogs! Palomino snorted. Who wants to know about slimy frogs? Why don t you choose something interesting? She tossed her golden mane. I m doing the history of saddle-making. Don t you ever want to learn 26 27