Horse-mad

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.

Horse Mad Dianne Wolfer illustrated by Sharon Thompson

You can find out more about Dianne’s books on her website: www.wn.com.au/dianne

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

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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

teeth didn’t look as horsey. It was

back, nothing happened. I stretched

true. Something weird had

and shook my mane. But it wasn’t a

happened during the night.

mane any more: it had changed into

I’d turned eight and I was no

hair! I sat up in shock as I realised

longer a horse. My life had changed

the dreadful truth. I didn’t feel like a

forever!

horse any more.

I sat on the bed and took a deep

At first I didn’t believe it. How

breath. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it

could this happen? I’d been crazy

seemed. Two of my pony friends

about horses for as long as I could

had turned eight and they were still

remember. I rolled out of bed and

horsey. Perhaps if I tried something

picked up my Ponies Rule! T-shirt.

else … I stamped my feet and

It looked old and faded and I didn’t

imagined shiny black hooves. I

want to wear it. I pulled on another

looked down. They were still feet.

shirt and tried not to panic. Then I

I took another deep breath and

peeked into the mirror. Even my 8

swished my bottom. But it was no 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

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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.

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

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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

to watch a wild stallion video in the evening. It should have been the

in the shape of a stable. It had

best birthday party ever, but it

plastic horses peeping out from

wasn’t. I felt so guilty about my

sponge-cake stable doors, and my

secret, I just couldn’t enjoy it.

name — Alice — iced on the roof

My friends knew something was

between lucky horseshoes. There

wrong. They neighed and nuzzled

were biscuits in ‘P’ and ‘C’ shapes

me, but I still felt dreadful. In the

(for Pony Club), jelly with little

morning, after they’d left, Mum

carrot-shaped lollies in it and my

asked if I was okay. I didn’t know

favourite apple turnovers.

what to say. She’s been working all

After we’d grazed for a while, we

year to help me save for my dream

played Pass the Parcel and Loosa

horse. How could I tell her I wasn’t

won the latest Hoofs magazine. Then

sure I still wanted a real pony any

we raced up and down the

more?

driveway and finally settled down 14

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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

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Sporty Group. I knew I’d never fit in with them. They were ultra serious about their sports.

On Monday, I daydreamed my way

Gabby and Ella were nice, but

through Maths. How could I be part

they’d been best friends since Grade

of the Horse Group if I wasn’t a

One. They had so many private

horse? And if the others wouldn’t

jokes, I’d never remember them all.

let me stay in the Pony Club, who

Melanie was always sitting alone.

else could be my friend? Would I be

She’d probably like a friend, but I

all alone?

didn’t want to spend recess

During Silent Reading I looked around at the other girls in my class.

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searching for dead beetles. So that just left the boys. 17

I looked at the boys. Some of them

teachers had banned that. I sighed.

were nice, but after Grade Two the

There must be a way to become

only time they noticed girls was if

horsey again.

we played Kiss Chasey, and the

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 at me. ‘Alice, are you

Mum looked surprised but she took out the milk and a saucepan. ‘What’s brought this on?’ she asked.

feeling okay?’ ‘Why?’ ‘You’re acting very strangely.’ I peeled the carrot. ‘Don’t worry,

‘What?’

I’ll be back to normal soon …’

‘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.’

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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

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and make-believe. Eating horse food will not turn you into a horse.’ I sighed. ‘I know, but it was worth

Every day for a week I ate two carrots, three apples and a bowl of

a try.’ Mum kissed me and picked up

porridge, but there was no change. I

one of my Bridle Club stories, but I

even tried nibbling some of the hay

took the book out of her hand.

in my guinea pig’s cage, but it was

‘Let’s have a different story

too prickly to swallow. After dinner on Friday, Mum sat down to have ‘a talk’ with me. ‘Darling,’ she began. ‘I know you 22

tonight.’ ‘Okay, what do you feel like, Black Beauty?’ I shook my head. ‘How about 23

something completely different?’ Mum gave me a funny look. ‘Auntie Karen sent you The Twits for

I nodded and snuggled under the blanket. As Mum read to me, I wondered

your birthday,’ she said. ‘Do you

whether I should tell her my

want to hear that?’

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

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

heart to disappoint her. Somehow I

could do projects on anything we

would become horsey again.

liked. There are tadpoles in our

At school on Monday it was becoming harder to fool my friends.

pond, so I decided to find out more about frogs. ‘Frogs!’ Palomino snorted. ‘Who

‘What’s wrong with you, Bay?’

wants to know about slimy frogs?

Prancer asked as she danced

Why don’t you choose something

towards the oval.

interesting?’ She tossed her golden

‘Umm, my hoof hurts,’ I fibbed, looking around to see who was watching.

mane. ‘I’m doing the history of saddle-making.’ ‘Don’t you ever want to learn

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about something other than horses?’ I asked. Palomino’s nostrils flared. She turned and whispered to Sorrel. Then they frowned at me and flicked their manes. At lunchtime I sat by myself. Loosa came trotting over to see how 29

I was, but in the end she cantered

jokes about useless horses being put

away to join the other ponies. I

out to pasture, I knew I’d have to

walked around the school feeling

think of a plan. There must be a way

lonely. The Cool Girls pointed at me

to bring Bay back. I wandered

and giggled.

around the schoolyard. Melanie was

‘Look,’ one of them whispered. ‘It’s Silver, the Lone Ranger’s horse.’ I tried to ignore them, but their

sitting on a bench sorting her insects. I watched her examining the legs of her bugs and had an idea.

teasing made me feel like crying. Then the Sporty Girls jogged by on their third lap of the oval. ‘Hey, Pegasus,’ they yelled, ‘bet your wings aren’t fast enough to catch us!’ I didn’t even bother trying. When the boys began making 30

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my toenails and covered them in black polish. When I’d finished, I brushed the fine hairs on my arms and legs. I nibbled the apple and

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waited, but it was no good; I didn’t feel any horsier. I took my comb and swept my

It wasn’t a great idea, but I felt so

long hair over to one side of my

sad that it was worth a try. I raced

head. Then I spent an hour making

home after school.

a row of tiny plaits, but I still didn’t

‘I’ll be in my room,’ I yelled to

feel horsey! I pinched one of Mum’s

Mum, grabbing an apple as I ran

old scarves, cut it into strips and

down the hall. I closed my door,

tied a scrap onto the end of each

took out my horse brush and a nail

plait. Then I looked into my

file and sat on the edge of my bed. I

bedroom mirror and flared my

took off my sandals, carefully filed

nostrils. I tried to snort, but all I

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could manage was a pathetic little

‘Help,’ I whinnied.

whinny.

The horses stared straight back. I

It was no use. Bay had completely disappeared.

looked at each one until the tears in my eyes turned them into a blur of

I sighed and stared at the collection of horse pictures covering

colours. ‘Don’t give up,’ they seemed to be

my bedroom walls. There were

neighing, so I decided to try one

Shetland ponies, bucking broncos,

more thing.

piebalds, pintos and Arabians.

I took out my favourite writing

There were colts and fillies,

pad, the one with hoof prints down

Clydesdales and brumbies. I even

the side, and began writing a list. I

had a poster of Phar Lap, the

wrote a big heading and underlined

famous Melbourne racehorse,

it twice.

standing proudly on my ceiling. Surely one of them could help me. I stared at my horses. 34

TEN REASONS TO BE A HORSE 35

paper and threw it in the bin. Then I

1.So I can rejoin the

put away my horse brush and untied my plaits. It seemed that my horse

Pony Club.

days were well and truly over.

I twisted my plaits and tried to think of another reason.

2. So that my friends will like me again. Hmm, that seemed a lot like the first reason. I chewed my pencil. There must be heaps of good reasons. Why couldn’t I think of any? I doodled a row of horseshoes along the bottom of the page, but it was no use. I couldn’t think of any more reasons. I ripped up the sheet of

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6 Mum had made carrot soufflé to try and cheer me up. It smelled good and I tried to swallow, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with hay. A tear slipped out of my eye and rolled down my cheek. Mum put down her fork. ‘I know something’s wrong,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you tell me? I

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won’t be mad.’

asked.

‘But you’ll be disappointed,’ I sniffed.

‘Disappointed?’ ‘About me not wanting a horse

‘Try me,’ Mum said. And so I told her.

any more. You’ve been working so hard …’

Mum listened until I’d finished. Then she gave me a hug.

Mum laughed. ‘Not at all! I think it’s great. Even if we could have

‘Is that all?’ she asked.

saved enough, I was worried about

‘What do you mean — is that all?

the cost of feeding a horse. And

My life has fallen apart!’ ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. It must be

we’d have to buy a saddle and bridle.’ She helped herself to more

strange to be human again after so

soufflé. ‘Now that we have all that

long.’

money saved, maybe we can go for

I looked at her suspiciously, but she wasn’t teasing. ‘Are you very disappointed?’ I 40

a holiday at Christmas.’ I smiled. ‘That would be cool!’ Then I remembered that Christmas 41

was four months away. How could I survive that long without my friends? ‘But what should I do about the

worry, everything will sort itself out.’ I sighed. Maybe, but that wouldn’t make lunchtime less lonely.

Pony Club?’ I wailed. Mum was quiet for a few moments. ‘Do you feel okay, no longer being a horse?’ If I didn’t count losing my friends, I did. I nodded. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmm-hmm.’ ‘Well then, I guess it’s meant to be.’ Mum ruffled my hair. ‘Don’t

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signs, it was hard to keep up. In the end I just wandered away. I don’t think they even noticed.

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I smiled at my old Pony Club friends as they trotted past. Loosa would wave a fetlock when she saw

Mum put extra treats in my lunchbox to try and cheer me up. I ate my food as slowly as I could (twelve minutes was my record), but that still left thirty-eight minutes to fill. Sometimes I sat with Gabby and Ella and listened to them giggle and talk about the other kids, but they had so many secret words and

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me, but the others ignored me. It was lonely not being a pony. ‘You’re either in the group, or not,’ Palomino had whinnied one day. ‘You can’t have it both ways.’ ‘But I just don’t feel horsey any more,’ I protested. Then I bit my lip. My secret was finally out. ‘Then you’re obviously NOT in, are you!’ 45

Palomino tossed her long shiny

search. If I accidentally did find

mane, stamped one hoof and

something interesting, I hid it under

galloped away. I smiled bravely at

a pile of leaves. Eventually, even

Loosa as she cantered sadly after the

Melanie ran out of patience with me.

other ponies.

‘How come you haven’t found

I swallowed and tried to look on the bright side. At least I no longer had to pretend.

anything?’ she asked. ‘Look, I’ve got three stink bugs.’ I shrugged and walked away. It

Sometimes I went looking for bugs with Melanie at lunchtime. But whenever I found an unusual insect, she’d grab it and put it in a jar. After a while the bug died and I felt even worse. I hung around Melanie because I was lonely, but after a while I only pretended to help her 46

was lonely not being a pony. I wondered if I’d ever get used to it. Then one rainy day I wandered into the library. ‘Hello, Alice,’ our librarian said. ‘What kind of book would you like?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I’ve only ever read horse stories.’ 47

She made a few suggestions and soon I discovered heaps of good books. I went to the library every

not as good as real friends, but they were better than nothing. On sunny days I read under a tree

lunchtime after that, and felt a little

outside the library. One lunchtime,

less lonely. Friends in books were

Loosa trotted quietly up to my tree.

‘What are you reading?’ she asked shyly. I showed her. It was a fantasy novel by a new author I’d discovered. ‘Can I sit down?’ I nodded and offered her half my biscuit. We munched happily in silence for a little while and then she

my hair all the time. It hurts my neck. And I don’t want to spend lunchtime galloping around. It’s too hot!’ She looked at the ground. ‘I’ve decided I don’t really want to be in the Pony Club any more. Do you think I could hang around with you?’

turned to me. ‘I have a secret,’ she whispered. ‘Do you mind if I tell you?’ A flicker of hope tickled my belly. ‘It’s about the Pony Club,’ Loosa began. ‘I, umm, I’m getting sick of being a horse. I’m tired of tossing

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‘I don’t know,’ Bree laughed. ‘It feels so weird to not have to gallop.’ ‘I know, but you’ll get used to it.

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How about we get a ball from the sports room and take it to the netball court?’

I stared at Bree, thinking how lonely I’d been for the last few weeks. Part of me wanted to say no and make her hunt for bugs with Melanie, or listen to Gabby and Ella’s jokes, but she looked so sad. And I was glad to be talking to her again. ‘Okay,’ I said, putting down my book. ‘What do you want to do?’

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‘That sounds like fun.’ And so we did. The next day we played corner ball and then Bree brought her brother’s marbles to school. Sometimes we read books and sometimes we sat with Gabby and Ella. It was wonderful to have a special friend again. When Melanie felt like a break from bug hunting, we let her 53

join our games, because I knew how horrible it is to be left out. The following week another strange thing happened. Bree and I were sitting under our favourite tree, acting out a story, when Sorrel cantered over. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Hi,’ we answered. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Making up a play.’ Sorrel looked at the ground. ‘I, umm, I wanted to ask you something …’ We waited. ‘I’m tired of being a horse,’ she 55

whispered. ‘I’m sick of stamping my feet and galloping everywhere.’ She looked up nervously. ‘I don’t really want to be in the Pony Club any more. Do you think I could hang around with you?’ Bree looked at me and we both smiled.

how she was sick of snorting all the time. It made her sneeze. ‘My pony days are over,’ she said. ‘Can I play with you instead? I’m really good at marbles.’ We looked at each other and nodded. Rosie moved over and made room for Holly under the tree.

‘Sure, Rosie, we need someone to play the Mad King,’ I said. ‘Sit

Only one member of the Pony Club was still galloping.

down and we’ll show you the part.’ Rosie laughed with relief and flopped onto the grass beside us. The next day we were playing marbles under our tree when Prancer galloped up. She told us

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head drooped. Her mane lost its glossiness and she couldn’t seem to raise a trot. She kept glancing at our

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little group under the tree. All lunchtime Palomino circled our tree. The other girls

We watched Palomino trotting about on her own. At first she seemed fine. She arched her graceful neck, pointed her dainty hooves and held her ears high. ‘Do you think she’s okay?’ Holly asked. ‘She looks okay,’ Bree replied. But after a few days Palomino’s

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occasionally smiled at her, but I remembered her mean words and how miserable it felt to be alone. You can’t have it both ways, I thought nastily, and I decided to pay her back. I’d show her what it was like to be left out! And so I ignored her. But paying Palomino back didn’t make me feel good. It made me feel 59

like I did when I was collecting beetles with Melanie. The next day, I swallowed the nasty

then brushed my arm. ‘I’m sorry for being mean,’ she said. ‘Can I play with you too?’

words I wanted to say and neighed a

The ex-ponies looked at me.

welcome. Palomino galloped straight

‘We’re not being horses …’ I said.

over. She hesitated for a moment and

‘That’s okay,’ Palomino replied,

taking a deep breath. ‘I can be flexible.’ I looked at the other ex-ponies.

go for a quick gallop to celebrate! So, the Pony Club has hung up its horseshoes. Out of the original

They were staring at the ground.

ponies, Palomino is the only one who

Then I looked back at my old friend

is still horse-mad. But that’s okay.

and smiled. She whinnied in relief.

She’s joined a real Pony Club and

‘Oops, sorry,’ Palomino said. ‘It may take me a while to adjust.’ We laughed and I offered her half my apple. It felt good to all be

made some new after-school friends. Every now and again she talks us into being ponies, and we run around flicking our hair for old time’s sake. The other kids think we’re crazy, but that’s nothing new. We just laugh and flare our nostrils. As long as we’re together, we don’t really care!

together again. I almost wanted to