7. A horse is a horse, of course, of course
CHAPTER SEVEN
a horse is a horse, of course, of course
Istart getting dizzy from how many times I’ve circled the base of our treehouse, so I switch to pacing back and forth in front of the trunk instead.
Where is he?
I check the sparkly pink digital watch Mom got me before summer camp and make sure I have the date right. Then, I count the days on my fingers to be positive, even though I know I haven’t messed it up. Forrest should be home today. He should have been home hours ago.
Summer is usually my favorite, filled with warm sunshine, summer camp, and all the reading I can fit in.
But this year, my camp ended the same day Forrest’s started, and I haven’t seen him in a month.
After spending every single day at school and most weekends together at least for a little bit, this has been the worst.
I still miss Jenny sometimes, but we don’t really talk much anymore.
And I’ve never had a friend like Forrest. It’s always easy to be around him.
I can say whatever’s in my head, and he never makes fun of me.
He doesn’t talk a lot, but that’s ok, too.
Because I do. When Forrest does talk, it’s always something smart.
And he’s very funny. He says he’s not, but then why does he make me laugh so much?
I want to laugh with him some more and tell him about my camp and hear about his camp, if only he would hurry up and get home.
Suddenly, there’s a sound. A car!
I run down the grass between our houses, stopping just before the sidewalk.
I’m supposed to stay in the yard when I’m outside without Mom or Dad.
But leaning isn’t against the rules, so I go up on my tiptoes and lean as far forward as I can without falling over to try and see around the bend in our street.
The sun glints off a shiny, pale car. There it is! That’s definitely Forrest’s mom’s car. Finally.
It feels like it takes forever for the white car to pull into Forrest’s driveway, and I’ve never felt so excited. Not even on Christmas or my birthday.
But then Forrest’s mom gets out of the car, and her face isn’t happy when she says, “Hello Camilla.”
Is she mad at me? She’s always been so nice, and I don’t think I broke any rules.
She goes to the back door and opens it, but Forrest doesn’t get out right away. His mom bends into the car and pulls out… crutches?
Oh no.
When Forrest finally hobbles out of the car, all I can look at is the bright blue cast wrapping his right leg from his toes to his knee.
I run up to him.
“Oh, Forrest,” I sigh, finally looking at his face. His cheeks are pink, and his nose is all scrunched up. I think he’s embarrassed. “What happened?”
“I hate horses,” he says. It’s not much of an explanation, but I bet I can guess what happened. At least generally.
“Do you still want to play a little bit?” I ask before turning to his mom. “Mrs. Dane, can he?”
“If he’s up for it, but just for a bit,” she says. “He should rest so he can heal.”
Forrest shrugs but scoots closer to me. I take that as a yes. He reminds me of our cat. She doesn’t like to cuddle with anyone besides Dad, but sometimes she sits near me, and Mom says that’s how she shows she cares.
Mrs. Dane reaches back into the car for Forrest’s camp bag before kissing the top of Forrest’s head and going inside.
Forrest and I just look at each other for a few minutes.
“I’m no fun like this. You don’t have to hang out with me.” Forrest breaks the silence.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I answer, rolling my eyes. “I’ve been waiting all day for my best friend to come home. I want to hear about camp. I promise I won’t make you talk about horses.”
“Best friend, huh?” Forrest pretends to still be grumpy, but I see him fight a smile.
“Duh. Let’s go.”
I automatically walk back to the treehouse before I realize we won’t be going up there with Forrest’s leg in a cast.
“Stay right here,” I order.
“I can’t exactly run away,” Forrest says flatly.
I snort when I laugh. Broken leg or not, he’s still funny.
I run inside to get a sheet and a bunch of my books.
Forrest is right where I left him when I get back.
I drop the books by his feet and start climbing the ladder to the treehouse.
For a moment, Forrest looks so sad, like I’d leave him behind, but then I throw the sheet over a low branch sticking out of the tree and jump back off the ladder.
After I use the books to hold the corners of the sheet out, we have our own ground-level clubhouse.
“Ta-dah!” I say once my masterpiece is completed. “Get in.”
I should have used a bigger sheet because it’s pretty cramped inside, and even when we sit on the ground so Forrest can stick his leg out, our heads touch the slanted sheet.
There’s a little more room on the ground, where the tent is widest. So, at the same time, we lie back in the grass, side by side.
Forrest closes his eyes and breathes in a deep breath, blowing it out hard. For the first time since he got out of the car, his face relaxes.
He doesn’t seem like he wants to talk, so I tell him about my camp.
“We did swimming and sports, dance and crafts and writing. It was my second time going, and some of the girls from last year were there again. But it was my first time doing sleepaway camp for two whole weeks, and the cabin was so much fun. Sometimes I missed home, but I could call Mom and Dad every day to say hi, and that helped.”
Forrest doesn’t move, but I know he’s listening. He’s good about listening, even when I ramble on. I know he likes to think before he talks sometimes, so I wait to see if he’ll say anything.
“I’m glad you had fun at camp, but I’m even happier that you’re back home,” Forrest says quietly.
“Me too,” I agree. “Do you want to tell me about your summer?”
Forrest nods. “We did a lot of the same stuff you did. Like swimming and sports. There was a talent show, and even one night camping in the woods in tents. I wanted to go and try new things, to prove I’m not boring.”
I feel a flash of anger.
Who told Forrest he’s boring?
I don’t ask because I don’t want to interrupt, but I see hurt on Forrest’s face, and I decide I hate whoever said it.
“I—” Forrest hesitates, and I see his cheeks go pink with embarrassment again.
“I was kind of scared of the horses the whole time I was there. I’d never seen one up close before, and they’re just so big.
Some of the other boys made fun of me for it, so I finally got the guts to try the horseback riding option yesterday.
I don’t know what I did wrong, but the second I got on, the horse—her name was Dream—threw me off. And then…” He gestures to his cast.
“That sounds so scary,” I say, and I mean it.
We had horses at camp too, and it would be a long way to fall off one.
I turn toward Forrest and reach out to hold his hand.
“Thank you for telling me. The person who said you’re boring is dumb.
And those boys are jerks for making fun of you. You’re one of my favorite people.”
“You’re one of my favorite people too. That’s why I told you.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever heard Forrest talk so much at once, so we lie there quietly some more, watching our dinky sheet sway in the wind.
“Was any of it good?” I ask, sad that he had such a bad experience.
He thinks about it a moment before answering.
“I liked seeing the stars. I thought what we had here at night was all there was, but there were so many more stars out in the woods. It was really cool,” he says, looking up, like he could see through our sheet, past the clouds, and all the way into outer space.
When he sighs, he sounds like a grown-up.
“Maybe I can convince Mom to send me to an indoor camp next year. The only wild thing I want to be around is you,” Forrest mutters, and I immediately burst out laughing, even as Forrest tries to take the words back.
“I shouldn’t have said it like that. I meant it as a good thing, but it sounded mean.” Forrest looks horrified, the poor boy. He squeezes my hand.
“Forrest, don’t be silly. I know you wouldn’t be mean to me,” I say. “Besides, I like being wild.”