Grows That Way Read online

  “Oh yes, Logan told him,” I say. “He’s including my sightings in a book he’s writing. He says I’ve discovered something very important to science.”

  “Wow,” says Taylor. “Do you think you could show them to me?”

  “Sure. We could go on a search party, you and me and Brooklyn and Spike. Mr. Losino says the best way to see sasquatches is from horseback.” But I’m thinking, What about Logan? I know he’ll want to come too, but if I invite him, he’ll bring his bike, and his being there will change things between me and Taylor.

  It doesn’t seem fair that I have to choose, but I do.

  “I should tell Spike about the sasquatch,” says Taylor. She gazes at his photo. “He needs to know it’s not a smelly dog.” She closes her eyes and the message wafts off through space. I wish I could say that I saw sparks fly out of her head, or watched her aura change, but I can’t. I suppose I’m too much a scientist. I want to believe, but deep down, I don’t. Not that I need to tell this to Taylor.

  Bunga has stopped howling, and is instead scratching furiously at the closed door and making his usual yipping noises. Taylor replaces Spike’s photo on her desk and opens the door, I think to let Bunga join us, but instead she stands in the hallway and motions for me to follow. “Show me what’s happened to Pinky,” she says.

  I take her outside to where Pinky is leaning against the house beside the front door.

  Taylor is impressed. “Very cool bike,” she says.

  I point out all the new modifications and she examines them carefully.

  “You know, Sylvia, Franco wouldn’t have done something like this. Even if he’d thought of it, he couldn’t have done this good a job. Someone’s been very careful and creative here.”

  For a second I think that Logan has done it, and my heart speeds up as I imagine him toiling over my bike renovations, and I wonder how I could ever repay him or show him my appreciation, and then Taylor says, “It must have been Mr. Losino, in gratitude for the information for his book.”

  Of course she’s right. Logan was in school all day, he wouldn’t have had the time and, unlike Franco, he wouldn’t skip out. Though probably he knew what his dad was going to do, probably he wanted to be there with me when I found my bike, but instead he had to get his hand x-rayed, and that was why he looked so upset when he left the gym.

  “Oh that’s great,” I say.

  It is great—because I can enjoy my new bike (which I will rename Avril Lavigne) and I won’t have to feel disloyal to Taylor or that I’m owing anything to Franco. I also don’t mind that I don’t owe anything to Logan. Relationships with boys are complicated.

  “I think I’ll be single for a while,” says Taylor. “I’ll need some time for my heart to heal.”

  “You won’t be lonely?” I say.

  Taylor shrugs. “Probably. There are worse things.”

  “You could have been pregnant,” I say.

  “Like Kansas,” says Taylor. When she sees the surprise on my face, she explains, “Spike told me he thought she was in foal. He says Kansas is very excited but needs to keep it secret for a while.”

  I nod in mute agreement. I am so relieved that Kansas is happy about the turn her life has taken, that I cannot speak.

  We stand shoulder to shoulder, considering Avril Lavigne, and life.

  Taylor will be fine on her own for a while, with time to find her direction in life and develop her talents unhindered. I realize that the same applies to me. For starters, I can enjoy designing a scientific experiment to determine whether my cousin really is psychic or whether, like Isobel, she is eerily perceptive.

  Besides, until Taylor has the laser hair removal, she’s going to have a difficult time at school. It will be hard for her, someone who’s always been pretty and popular, especially if Amber develops a campaign, and why wouldn’t she?

  Fortunately, Taylor has someone to show her the ropes, someone who’s been in leper-land before her. Taylor has me.

  Taylor sighs. “I wish I could stop feeling like a victim.”

  “You could report Franco to his coach,” I say tentatively. “He’d get kicked off the team.”

  Her face brightens but only momentarily. “I couldn’t do that. He lives for sports.”

  “Not just sports,” I say, still feeling the need for some revenge. “There’s also Amber.”

  Taylor slowly shakes her head. “Amber doesn’t have a clue what she’s getting into. If we don’t do something, she’ll be contaminated too.”

  Even I don’t dislike Amber enough to want this to happen.

  “It’s not a kindness to Franco to let him continue either,” says Taylor. “It’s unhealthy to take steroids, he’ll end up needing organ transplants. We have to do something.”

  “Franco doesn’t listen to anybody,” I say. “Not his parents, not his brother.”

  “He used to listen to me sometimes,” says Taylor. “Maybe he’ll listen to Amber.”

  “I could have a word with Topaz,” I say.

  “Maybe if we all work together,” says Taylor.

  “Like a herd.”

  “Speaking of which,” says Taylor, plucking at her pajamas, “my herd is due back any minute now—Mom’s bringing Erika home from swim class. I need to return to my cave.”

  “I bet if we phoned Grandpa and Isobel, they’d pick us up and take us to the barn. You could see Spike.”

  Taylor shakes her head. “Not today. I’m not quite ready. I’d like some more time on my own to absorb…everything.”

  “I understand,” I say, but I’m disappointed. Going to the barn would be a great first step. She can’t stay in her room forever,

  “How about tomorrow?” says Taylor. “Mom’s taking Erika to a swim meet. I can sneak out without being interrogated.”

  Thank goodness. It’s not school, but it’s a start. “Great idea,” I say.

  “I’ll wear my hat, and gloves. Grandpa and Isobel won’t notice anything,” says Taylor.

  Ha! Isobel notices everything. I catch myself just before saying so out loud.

  chapter

  thirty-one

  I think Taylor looks odd wearing her hat and gloves in the car, but no one says anything. Grandpa and Isobel drop us at the stable, then head off to watch the swim meet for a while.

  Kansas is around back leaning on the fence of the isolation paddock. Bernadette is leashed and sitting at her feet. They’re watching a horse I don’t recognize, a sorrel, head down, picking nonchalantly at a pile of hay.

  “Who’s that?” I ask.

  “We have a new boarder,” says Kansas.

  I like how she says we. My chest feels cramped, in a nice way, as if it needs more room to hold my heart.

  “She’s a barrel racer,” Kansas continues. “Her name’s Dudette.”

  Taylor and I exchange a glance. Dudette. Would that be a male dude with female features? Or a female with male characteristics? I shrug. What does it really matter?

  “The family just moved out from Ponoka. I haven’t worked with a barrel horse for donkey’s ears,” Kansas muses, then apologizes to Taylor.

  “No problem,” says Taylor. She loves Spike’s ears, while Kansas has never had any success at hiding her scorn for the long pointy things.

  “Are you going to be teaching her dressage, Kansas?” I say, because this is her passion, or at least it was before Declan and the foal-to-be came along.

  “Not exactly, though the same principles of flexion and bending and collection apply. Terminology is different. I won’t be talking about half-halts. We’ll work on rating and whoa spots instead.”

  “It’s all about the bond anyway,” says Taylor. “No matter what discipline you follow, it all comes down to the relationship you have with your horse.”

  Kansas clears
her throat. “Horses aren’t poodles. They can kill you without meaning to. They need discipline and training more than bonding.”

  “Spike wouldn’t kill me,” says Taylor. “He only ever bites me as a show of affection.”

  “Don’t come running to me when he affectionately takes your ear off,” says Kansas.

  Taylor snorts.

  They’re never going to agree, and I don’t care. I can see where they’re coming from and I can love them both. There’s no need to jump in the middle. Isobel would be proud of me.

  A happy sigh escapes my lungs. It’s so great that everything’s getting back to normal.

  An old Mazda pickup lurches into sight on the driveway and rattles towards the parking area.

  “Who’s that?” says Taylor.

  “Must be Dudette’s owner,” says Kansas. “She told me her brother was going to drop her off this morning.”

  I feel Taylor stiffen beside me. She’s not ready for new people. She ducks in behind Kansas because there’s no point trying to duck in behind me.

  The truck stops beside the barn and the doors groan open. A teenage girl springs from the passenger side, looking around wildly until her eyes fall upon Dudette. It’s as if she’s been hit by a magical freezing spell. She stands and stares. She doesn’t move a muscle until Dudette raises her head and nickers softly in her direction.

  Ah. Good Person. No label required.

  I’m less sure about the brother. Tall and sinewy, dressed in black jeans and T-shirt, he has unfolded his long limbs and arisen from the driver side. His arms are tattooed in shades of blue all the way down to his wrists so it looks like he’s wearing sleeves but he’s not. Weird. Why would anyone do this?

  “Keep your hands off that boy now, Sylvia,” Kansas teases me.

  I’m about to say, “No problem there,” when Taylor almost dislocates my shoulder as she charges past me, whispering fiercely, “Don’t you touch him, he’s mine.”

  Yup. All back to normal, I’d say.

  Acknowledgments

  I would not be able to pursue my passions of writing and riding without the support and encouragement of a community of people, at the core of which are my family and friends.

  Thank you to Randal Macnair and Christa Moffat at Oolichan Books, and to my wonderful editor, Alison Acheson. What a pleasure it is to work with nice people.

  I am very grateful to the young women with Turner Syndrome and their families, for sharing with me, either directly or so candidly on their blogs and YouTube.

  For information about the sasquatch I am indebted to The Discovery of the Sasquatch: Reconciling Culture, History, and Science in the Discovery Process by John A. Bindernagel. 2010. Beachcomber Books, Courtenay, British Columbia.

  Thank you to the readers of early drafts: Anna Elvidge, Seiko Marton and Kim McCarley.

  There are many people who have assisted me over the years in my adventures with horsemanship. Thanks to Dave Bowron and Pat Bowron for starting me off, and finding that essential first great horse for me. Thanks to Norah Ross for honing my jumping skills. Thanks to Ralph Mortimer for showing me there’s a whole other way to ride. Thanks to Gina Allen for keeping me straight in the saddle. Thanks to Alexi Buffalo for help with the barrel horse. Thanks to Pam Asheton for reminding me of some magic.

  Thanks to Michael Collins at The Broken Spoke Bicycle Shop for strategies on transforming Pinky.

  Thanks to Isobel Springett for another wonderful cover photo, and to Baylee Kivela and her pony, Elodon McCrae, for being such willing and truly perfect participants in the photoshoot.

  Thank you, Cassie Hobenshield, for allowing me to borrow Dudette.

  Thanks to Lollipop and Huckles, for ensuring I get my butt out of my garret and down to the barn.

  Thank you, Shadow. (He knows why.)

  And Mike, thank you for tolerating the clutter, for bringing me coffee just the way I like it, listening carefully to draft after draft, and laughing in the right places.

  Enjoy the funny misadventures of the dauntless Sylvia in the first two books in the Born That Way series.

  “I love Susan’s tone - there’s lots of angst, but no self-pity, lots of humor…the love and respect for horses is actually rather overwhelming. We should all thank Cloudy, Lollipop and the other equines that inspired; it’s a rather unique YA text.”

  ~ Kieran Kealy, Professor Children’s Literature, UBC

  Susan Ketchen was born and raised on Vancouver Island. She has successfully pursued an alarming number of educational paths and professional careers, including over a decade in the field of marriage and family therapy.

  She can sometimes be found out standing in her field, and always on the web at www.susanketchen.ca.