Grows That Way Read Online Free PDF Page B

where my grieving parents will find my body some days from now. They will never forgive Kansas. My dad will kill her after he’s finished killing Brooklyn, and then he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison, leaving my mom all alone with only Auntie Sally and her memories to comfort her.
    Somehow I recall Kansas talking to me about using a pulley rein to stop in emergencies. We never practiced it much because she said it was too hard on the horse. We’re quickly coming up on the fork in the trail. I try to remember what Kansas taught me. I grab some mane in my right hand along with the rein and hold tight. I slide my left hand forward on the other rein, take hold and pull up and back with all my might.
    Brooklyn bounces to a jagged trot, and finally he walks. He’s quivering and sweaty and I vault off because he feels like he’s ready to misinterpret the least movement from my seat as a cue to explode into another gallop. I flip the reins over his head and tell him he has to walk. Maybe by the time we reach the barn he will have cooled off and no one will suspect what we’ve been up to.
    He prances beside me.
    He’s not frightened. He’s excited. He’s been having the time of his life. There’s a whole other side to steady dependable Brooklyn that I never encountered in the riding ring.
    We take the fork that will lead us most directly back to the barn. I figure I have about twenty minutes of walking time to put together a plausible story about what I’ve been up to which will stop me from being in deep trouble with my parents and with Kansas. We’re about a hundred metres along, and I’ve come up with exactly nothing when ahead I see Taylor, walking beside Spike. Taylor is chattering away like a little bird and doesn’t notice me at first though Spike’s ears wobble into an upright position when he catches sight of his pal Brooklyn.
    I take a deep breath. There are so many things I have to avoid talking about. For the sake of my sanity, there are also things I need to avoid even thinking about. I was trail riding by myself, and I know better and I shouldn’t have. My easy-going reliable horse ran away with me and I barely managed to bring him under control with an emergency pulley rein stop. But the most difficult thing is that I saw something unimaginable. That’s the part I don’t want to think about. My brain folds in on itself any time I retrieve the memory of that creature. How can I possibly explain any of this to Taylor? I will never be able to find the right words.
    As it turns out, I needn’t have worried. Taylor is busy in the psychic world and out of touch with the perilous planet we are actually occupying.
    â€œOh this is where you got to,” she says. “We had a feeling you’d be here. I’ve been communicating with Spike and he told me to come this way.”
    They are blocking the path to home. Spike has his usual semi-annoyed look, his great ears half-cocked. He nuzzles Taylor’s pocket then grabs a bit of fabric with his teeth (something I’d never let Brooklyn get away with). “Okay, you were right,” she tells him. “There’s your reward.” She gives him half a carrot.
    â€œIt’s getting late, we should probably head back,” I tell her.
    â€œOh sure.” She turns Spike halfway around and he plants himself crosswise on the trail, sniffing the air in the direction of the river. His ears point forward. He stomps a front foot.
    Taylor places a hand on his neck and closes her eyes for a moment. When she’s done communicating she turns and translates for me. “Stinky dog, he says. Over and over. Stinky dog stinky dog stinky dog.”
    Some dog, I think, but I’m not about to correct him. I just want to get out of here.
    Spike stomps his foot again. Taylor gives him a pat, then tugs on the lead rope. Spike ignores her. Taylor pulls on the rope as hard as she can and