Kai, p.10
Kai, page 10
“Oh!” This mountain was rollicking and moving so fast, it was like being on a ride. I could hear the rhythmic panting of his breath as he cantered down the side of the course – or was that my breath? We were moving so fast now, forward and down and then up again, so quickly! Muffin turned with the track like liquid, and then we were coming back up the other side.
“Go for it, Kai! Yeah!” Ginger was shouting. He and Monty were slowly trotting now, I noticed, as Muffin and I thundered past. I was laughing and breathless, slowing Muffin into a trot to get my breath back and then urging him forward into a canter again. I felt as though I could never get bored doing this, but after we’d been around the course I don’t know how many more times, Ginger held his arms up – he and Monty were standing by the sidelines now – and Muffin and I finally came to a stop.
“You liked that, didn’t you boy?” Ginger said to Muffin as he took his bridle and saddle off back at the stables. Monty was, as usual, standing just behind me, watching every little thing I did.
“Do you think Muffin really did like it?” I asked as I mixed up their feed.
“A light young boy, and an open stadium to canter around all day. What more could a good horse want?”
“How did it go?” asked Jingy, coming in to lie on the end of my bed that evening. “Did you fall? Did he step on you? Did you scar Muffin for life?”
She was so good at reading my mind. I hadn’t said a word about any of that to her, just in case Mum might hear and worry, or Dad might want to come down and watch. But she’d picked up on it anyway, and instead of asking me about it beforehand or wishing me luck, or doing any of those things that only would have made me more nervous, she’d waited until afterwards to ask. “Come on. Tell me!”
“It’s different to what you’d think from watching someone riding, in real life, or even on your phone.”
“No kidding,” said Jingy, her face straight.
“It felt so fast! So much faster than being in a car or on a bike. I’m just surprised, that’s all, by how much I liked it.”
“I’m not.”
“Why not?”
Jingy’s thick, dark hair had grown longer in the last year, and now it hung like a long straight waterfall down her back. She gathered it up into a ponytail, then knotted it into a bun at the top of her head.
“Because of how I feel about surfing. Because, there’s just something about doing a thing that scares you, but attracts you at the same time. If you do it, and it works, it can make you so happy. Happier than anything.”
I still hadn’t completely settled into being back at school. I still missed Frankie and Violet and Storm and the others, every day. I still woke up some days and thought, What am I doing here? Why aren’t I still in The Pocket?
“Come on, admit it, Kai. You love riding.”
I thought of what it had been like, riding Muffin, and being there with Ginger, and how Monty had made me laugh; and then coming home to have dinner with Mum and Dad and Jingy, just like we used to, and now being here with Jingy, so healthy and well again. Maybe it was like Ginger said: you were always missing something. But today a big piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.
“It was probably the most fun I’ve ever had, ever.”
“If we were sitting here eighty years ago, nearly every one of you would have known how to ride.”
This was like sitting up on Muffin, I decided, as I looked out over the sea of faces, in my school’s Great Hall. It felt way higher standing up here on stage than I thought it would.
“You would have had to know about horses to go to work, or go to school, to fight a war and to look after your land.”
If I get thrown, I get thrown, I’d decided this morning as I had a last look over my notes, and no matter what happened, I promised myself, I would keep going.
“Up until the invention of the car, horses were our most important means of transport.”
Josh, who was sitting in the front row directly below me, folded his arms across his chest. Fu and Chris and Ali were sitting in the row behind him, doing the same. As usual these days, I thought, they weren’t exactly against me, but they weren’t on my side, either.
I needed to show leadership, just the way Ginger had taught me, except it was me I was leading this time instead of my horse. I felt into my feet planted on the ground, the way I’d felt into my legs sitting in the saddle, and focused on what I wanted my audience to know.
“It used to be completely normal to have horses, and to ride horses, that’s why we had so many. But then came the combustion engine – cars,” I added, for all the guys who were looking confused, “and all of a sudden we didn’t need all those horses any more. A lot of them just got released into the bush, in all different parts of Australia, and that’s how they became brumbies. Australia has more brumbies, in fact, than any other country in the world.
“In some places there are just the right number, and they help to keep the grass short, and other kinds of feral animals down. But in some parts of the country there are too many. Way too many. They’re a hard-hoofed animal, and they’re damaging our environment, and making life harder for our native animals. That’s a big problem.
“Some people want to get rid of them at any cost, and so they shoot at them from helicopters, or from the ground. As well as being really cruel, this leads to the problem of what to do with their bodies. If you don’t remove them, wild dogs and pigs will feed on them, and then they’ll become an even bigger problem than the brumbies.”
I took a deep breath. Almost there! I thought.
“This is how I see it: We created this problem, so we should be the ones to fix it. It doesn’t work to just forget about the brumbies, and then wake up and start shooting at them or poisoning them, and then forget about them again. That’s cruel and stupid, and it just winds up making the problems worse.
“The best way to deal with our brumby population is through sterilising them – which actually costs the same as shooting them – and eventually it will solve the problem. Also, removing them from the bush, either to be sold to abattoirs for dog food,” I swallowed, “or – and this is the option I think is the best one – for keeping as a friend, and riding.”
I looked at my notes as I was getting ready for the big finale, where I had been going to talk about being responsible, which I thought would particularly impress Mr Shackley. Those lectures never worked on me, though, and now that I was standing up here in front of all these other kids, I could see it wasn’t going to work on them, either.
I pushed my notes away, and walked to the front of the stage. This is how Storm must have felt the first time she let go of Mist’s reins and cantered forward, using just her balance, to stay on.
“I don’t think any of you know this, but a few months ago I rescued a brumby and brought him to the city, to live in a stables, just a few blocks down the road from here.”
Fu, Ali, Chris and Josh all opened their mouths at the same moment, in shock, and the slight hubbub that had been there in the hall the whole time I’d been talking, stopped.
“We’ve been hanging out together, a lot, and I’ve been learning how to ride.”
Josh held his hands out, and mouthed “Dude! Whaaat?”
I still hadn’t told anyone at school about Monty and now, suddenly, I wondered why.
“His name is Monty. He was rescued with a whole lot of other brumbies from Swamp Creek National Park, where they had that terrible bushfire a few months ago. Any questions?”
I stood there on stage, in silence, for what felt like aeons as they all sat there in silence, looking at me. And then Josh put up his hand.
Thank you, Josh.
“Are you saying you’re learning how to ride a wild horse?”
“I will be, yeah. For now, I’m riding an old tame one. Muffin his name is. He used to be a champion trotter, though. He won the Australasian Breeders’ Cup, and the Miracle Mile.”
I couldn’t tell if the silence in the hall meant everyone was impressed, or just bored. Another kid put up his hand.
“Compared to your phone, Kai, where would you put riding?”
Now my cheeks were hot. I should have expected this. Everyone knew what had happened with Josh, and everyone knew I’d almost been expelled. I was kind of famous for it, actually, which just goes to show how stupid being famous is. I’d been trying to ignore it, and live it down by lying low all this time, but obviously that hadn’t worked.
“I’d say it’s very similar.” I put my hand in my pocket and felt my phone sitting there. Turned off, the way it had to be during school hours, but still a comfort.
“I mean, I’m never going to knock my phone – I would be the last person, as you all know, to do that.” Lots of the kids laughed. Even Josh – who’d been watching me with that same curious expression all this time, as though he was waiting to see how I’d handle this – was smiling. “Both of them pull you in and while I’m with them, I don’t think about anything else while I’m doing it.”
“Kai, it sounds like you’ve fallen in love,” Ms Wakeling said, and now I felt even more embarrassed, even though a moment ago I would have said that wasn’t possible.
“Everyone, put your hands together to thank Kai for a great speech today,” she continued, “and to congratulate him for rescuing his horse.”
“If any of you are ever thinking of getting a horse, you can’t do better than a brumby!” I called out, giddy with relief. It was over! I put my hands over my head like a prize fighter as everyone in the hall laughed and cheered, and I stumbled off the stage.
“Hey, good speech,” said Josh, almost reluctantly, walking up to me in the playground and clapping me on the shoulder.
“Yeah, good speech,” nodded Ali, who, I’d been noticing lately, always agreed with everything Josh said.
Fu and Chris each gave me a quick thumbs up, which for them was high praise.
“But seriously,” said Josh, after everyone had left the playground and we were walking up the stairs to maths. “Why didn’t you tell any of us you have a horse now? I mean, that’s big news. Why didn’t you at least tell me?”
“I just thought you might think it was weird.”
“What? I don’t think it’s weird. I think it’s great. Could I come one day, to the stables, do you think? To have a look?”
Up until then, I hadn’t been able to imagine combining my city friends with what I’d learned at The Pocket, but they were going to have to be combined one day, I told myself, so why not soon?
“Why don’t you come tomorrow?” I said.
“It’s a deal.”
We weren’t saying much. Josh and I never really do. But I could just tell from the way we were walking along together, we were going to be proper friends again.
“By the way,” said Josh, as we walked into our classroom, “I suppose it’s your turn to give me a dare, now. If you want to, I mean.”
“I was going to.” I thought of how upset I’d felt on that first day of school, compared to how I felt now. Maybe doing things you were scared of wasn’t such a terrible idea, after all. Just so long as you had the right support to do it. “If you help me muck out the stables tomorrow why don’t we call it even?”
I stuck out my hand and Josh shook it. “Done.”
Next morning, I received my first ever text from Ginger. It was lucky I’d forgotten to follow Mum and Dad’s new phone rules for once, and had the phone beside my bed, otherwise I wouldn’t have heard it buzzing at 5am.
Can you please come over as soon as possible?
Okay, I texted back, rubbing my eyes.
Bring your mother or your father.
Sure, I texted back, even more curious now.
“What’s going on?” Mum and Dad and Jingy kept asking me as we drove through the early morning streets, empty at this hour on a Saturday. By the time I’d explained to Mum what was happening, they’d all woken up, so they decided to come and then go on to the Flemington Markets afterwards. “What could it be?” they kept asking.
“I don’t know,” I had to keep replying. I felt uneasy. As soon as I saw Ginger’s message, I had this strange feeling that everything was about to change, again.
We pulled up outside the stable gates and I was reminded of the last time we’d all been here together, as a family, when we’d brought Monty here from The Pocket. It was strange to think that had only been ten weeks ago.
“Hello? Ginger?” I walked down the passageway, with Mum and Dad and Jingy following close behind me. The first thing I noticed was that the fire wasn’t laid and there was no smell of tea and fresh damper. The next thing I noticed was how quiet it was. For once Ginger’s little portable radio wasn’t playing. And then I saw something I’d never seen before, and that I never want to see again: a horse was lying down in the middle of the round yard, his head resting on the ground at an awkward angle, and a circle of wet green vomit pooling around his nose. It was Muffin! I realised, as I looked more closely.
“Ginger?” I called out again, panicking.
“I’m here, boy.” Ginger was kneeling on the other side of Muffin with his head bowed, holding his cap on his knees.
I’d never seen him without his cap on, I realised, not since that first day, when he’d taken it off momentarily, to introduce himself to Mum.
“Monty’s fine,” he said, reassuring me. “It’s just Muffin.”
“What’s happened?” cried Jingy, even though I knew. We all knew. It was obvious.
“He’s died,” said Ginger matter of factly, rising to his feet. He was still the same Ginger, I told myself, but something about the set of his face as he turned to us, and the stiffness of his movements, made him suddenly seem very old.
“Oh, Ginger. I’m so sorry! What happened?” said Mum.
I couldn’t stand it, and I walked over to Monty’s stable. He looked around at me and softly whinnied, but he didn’t try to nudge me back out into the stable yard, the way he usually did.
“Colic,” Ginger was saying. “It’s when something a horse has eaten gets blocked in the gut. It’s beyond painful. The agony Muffin was in–” Ginger’s voice broke, and he closed his eyes for a moment.
“Ginger, you don’t have to . . .” tell us in detail, I was about to say, but Mum flashed her eyes at me. Let him talk, she seemed to be saying.
Ginger nodded at Mum gratefully, and I remembered how much it had helped me to tell Frankie and Violet about Jingy, even though it hurt.
“It started last night, after I’d left to go home. “I’d put him in the round yard, thank God. Not really for any reason. I could just as easily have left him in the stable, and then no one would have known. Anyway, one of the neighbours noticed him acting oddly, and so he called me. Thank God,” he said again, and this time he shuddered. “If he hadn’t, I would have had no idea. Nothing seemed unusual when I left here. I’d gone to bed early, and was sleeping like a baby when he called.
I would have had no idea what he was going through. I took one more look at Monty and then I went back out into the yard. Mum was sitting next to Ginger on one of the camp stools, and Dad and Jingy were standing, their hands in their pockets and their heads bowed, respectfully listening.
“Why would that happen?” asked Dad.
“Who knows? It’s been so cool, lately, I’ve been giving them more hand food, hay and stuff. And he probably wasn’t drinking enough water.”
“Or maybe it wasn’t anything you did at all,” said Mum.
“That’s true,” said Ginger, looking slightly comforted.
That’s the thing about Mum. She comes across as so tough a lot of the time, but she always knows exactly the right thing to say. I certainly wasn’t any use. I just felt like lying down next to Monty in his stall and crying.
“He kept lying down, and rolling, trying to clear whatever it was in his stomach that was bothering him. As soon as I worked out what was going on, I began walking him around, trying to stop him from rolling and twisting his gut, and giving him peppermint oil, to try and clear it. That’s worked with some of my other horses, in the past. But not this time.”
“What was Monty doing throughout all of this?” asked Mum, as if she could read my mind.
“I let him watch. He stood just outside here, pretty much the whole night. He’s in his stable, now, though. What’s he up to, Kai?”
“Eating hay.”
“That’s good. Anyway.” His voice was choked and his hands were clenched. “About 3am Susie – that’s my missus – finally convinced me to call the vet. I kept putting it off, because I knew.” His shoulders heaved again. “I knew what the vet would do.”
“Couldn’t the vet do anything to help?” Jingy cried.
“Oh, she tried. Muscle relaxants, more peppermint oil, but we’d already been trying with those, all night. So anyway, around 4.30 I finally accepted it, and we gave him the ‘green dream’. It’s a dose of sedative so strong it puts a horse to sleep. And it’s green. That’s what the foam is about,” as though he knew that’s what I had been wondering about. It looked so bright and unnatural, foaming around Muffin’s head, like the poison you’d see in a cartoon. “The vet basically gave him an overdose. He died after a few minutes. Oh my,” Ginger cried out, and put his arm over his eyes.
I was crying now too, and Jingy, and Dad and Mum all had tears in their eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Ginger,” I said helplessly.
But the one I felt most sorry for, I realised, over the next few days, was Monty.
We still took Monty to the track each day – Ginger said it was vital for Monty’s mental, emotional and physical health to keep him in his routine – and Ginger still rode him for ten or fifteen minutes at a time, trotting and cantering him around. But no matter how much time I spent doing my homework on a card table Dad set up for me next to his stable, or how often Dad and Mum and Jingy dropped in to have takeaway dinner with Ginger and Monty in the round yard, I knew this couldn’t make up for what he’d lost.
