Rockets and Beaches

“I’m serious, Jenny! The school’s poor horses just can’t go as fast on the school’s rough path as they can on a field!” 12-year-old Andi Carter said intently, looking down at the stony pathway.

She and her friend Jenny Grant were taking a stroll around the Lady’s School at which they were boarding. They were on their hour-long afternoon break, and it would be a little while before the rest of their studies. 

Jenny laughed. “You should be a lawyer, just like your brother. But for horses.”

Andi smirked. “A horse lawyer? Well, I’d rather be that than a-”

“Horse lawyer? What a thoughtless idea, Andrea Carter.” A shower of laughter rained down Andi’s neck. She reluctantly turned around to see a group of 5 or so girls giggling as they flounced away.

“Florence is such a pig,” Jenny raged, eyeing the tallest of the 5 girls. “I can’t imagine being her. It looks like she has no fun.”

“Jennifer,” Andi said, holding back a grin. “You must show acts of kindness toward the lady. She is your elder.”

Jenny snorted, then stood up straight.

“And you, young lady, must respect her, too.” A voice said.

Andi spun around. “Justin! I-”

“Didn’t remember that at a lady’s school, you must always talk like a lady?” Her older brother interrupted, his eyes, however, showing a slimmer of agreement. He had ridden up to where Andi and Jenny were in a buggy.

“I actually was going to say,” Andi replied, “Why are you here? Ohh….right.”

“It’s the end of the spring term.” Justin smiled. “I’ll be staying at your aunt’s for a few days, and then we’ll go home.”

Andi counted out the days in her head. “So I stay here until Friday?” 

“Right.”

Until this point Jenny had been quiet. Now she spoke up. “Wait-that’s so soon! I might not see Andi again!”

“Well, I think a week should be enough.” Justin said. “See you on Friday, Andi.”  He smiled, clicked the reins to the buggy, and rode away.

Now filled with dissatisfaction, Andi and Jenny resumed their walk. Leave it to Justin to always tell me something that I can’t do anything about. Andi thought with forlorn disappointment.

***

As Andi and Jenny rounded the last corner of the outer building, a small boy suddenly ran right into them. Meaning to get on his way, the youth muttered a hasty, “lo siento,” and scrambled to his feet.

But before he got far, Jenny grabbed the boy’s button-up shirt and hung on tight. She peered at the child fixedly. He seemed to be about 7 and was holding a few of the stable’s expensive tools. “Where do you think yer goin’, mister?” Jenny asked. “Are you a thief?”

The youngster worriedly looked about, frightened. “Ayuda!” He cried. “Help!”

Another boy came running, this one much older than the 7-year-old. “Mis disculpas, ladies.” He apologized. He saw Andi and grinned. “At least it’s you he ran into,” He said in Spanish.

“Juan Carlos!” Andi replied in the same language. “Who is this?”

“This is Will.” He answered, motioning to the boy in Jenny’s grip. Jenny looked at Andi.

“Let him go,” Andi commanded, switching to the language Jenny understood. Jenny obeyed and the youngster rushed to Juan’s side, obviously his friend.

Juan explained that Will was a Peruvian immigrant adopted by a loving American family. “He knows a little Spanish and helps me with the horses,” Juan finished.

“Well, nice to meet you, Will.” Andi said, smiling warmly.

“Disculpe, Andi, but I take it that you’ll be leaving soon?” Juan asked.

“Si,”  Andi said.

“Hmm…” Juan muttered, furrowing his brow. “Well, we’d better go.” Juan grabbed Will’s hand and walked away, scratching his chin.

“Okay?”  Andi said awkwardly, surprised at Juan’s abrupt departure. “Adios!”

“What was that all about?” Jenny asked.

“I don’t know,” Andi shook her head.

All of a sudden, a loud piercing gong rang in their ears.

“Time to go back to class, Andi.” Jenny mused. “Don’t you want to learn more Latin vocabulary?”

            That night, as the evening meal drew closer, the two young ladies heard someone talking in a hushed tone.

            “What is it?” A voice a little too loud asked.

            “Hush! Do you want Mrs. Whit…?” After that, the voices became too hard to hear.

            “Did you hear that?” Jenny asked. Andi was still trying to decipher what was being said.

            “It’s coming from Florence’s room.”

*****

The next day Andi was outside again, trying to make up a poem for her English class.

“What rhymes with ‘eve’?” She deliberated to herself. “Oh, Weave-!”

“Andi!!!” Jenny’s  voice shrilled as the red-head dashed up to her, arms flailing. “Andi.”

“Be quiet, will you?!” Andi pleaded. “I don’t want to go to Mrs. Whitaker’s desk right now, and I just thought of-“ Andi stopped short. “Well, I forgot the word now, but I DID have a word that would complete my first stanza.”

Jenny looked at the work Andi was doing. “This is way more important than something that will end up in a dusty old book on an ancient shelf.”

Andi sighed. “What?” She asked, bummed that she’d have to think of a new rhyming word.

Jenny produced a small glass cup from under the folds of her skirt. “An old listening device,” she said secretly.

“Jenny, this is not-”

“I spied on Florence a little more. Well, listened in on.”

“In on?”

“Just hear my reasons!” Jenny urged. She resumed her secretive tone. “I put the glass against the door, and I could hear everything the girls in there were saying. They were saying something about sneaking whatever it was into the building. I also heard a rustling of a box and the swish of it being opened. Then, when I casually walked past the door, I saw through the tiny window that the box was pinkish-blue, like a doughnut box!”

“So?” Andi inquired.

“The girls smuggled pastries into the school!”

Andi stopped looking at her notebook. “Seriously?” She asked. “That’s more important than poetry?”

“Andi, this is a dire situation! This is a matter of contraband!”

“I’m not going to tattle on Florence for smuggling doughnuts into the school.” Andi refused. “You can.” She looked back down to her work. “But I ain’t.”

Jenny slumped onto the bench next to Andi. “Fine,” she sighed. “I won’t waste my breath-yet. But keep an eye out with me, will you?”

“Agreed…hey! I just remembered the word! It was-”

“Excuse me, Miss Andi, but it’s time for your last horse ride.” Juan Carlos interrupted in his native language, walking up the pathway. “Sorry to interrupt,” he added, giving an impish grin.

“Oh! I guess I have to go, Jenny!”  Andi got up from the bench, trying to copy her aunt’s graceful method of doing it. “Keep an eye on Florence, if you know what I mean.”

 Briskly strolling away from Jenny, Andi did not hear a muttered curse coming from behind the building.

Andi tried to happily proceed toward the stable, but a sinking feeling kept nagging her gut. No more riding lessons after I leave, she thought sadly. No more talks in Spanish with Juan-

Andi stopped short. “Um…Juan?” She asked in Spanish. “My riding lessons ended almost a week ago!”  By now she had gotten on her borrowed russet-colored horse, Abe.

Juan’s eyes twinkled. “I didn’t say this was a riding lesson.” He beamed, leading Andi’s horse along a separate path with his steed. “We’re taking a little ride.”

Andy gasped. “What-where are we going?”  

“I never got to show you the playas of San Francisco,” Juan smiled, His cinnamon-colored skin shining in the sun. He fed Andy's horse a treat for it is good patience and continued leading it toward the road.

“How did you get Mrs. Whitaker to let me go to the San Francisco beaches?” Andi asked.

“Ah, Senora Whitaker’s easy.” Juan shrugged. “As long as it was not during school hours, she couldn’t care less. Horses do not interest her-or beaches, too. All I had to do was tell her I do a few tasks for the school-and my helper Will said he’d do those.”

“That’s nice of you.” Andi said. “I know you don’t know a lot of English.”

“I’m learning.” Juan smiled. “Another factor is that I had to ask your brother Justin, but that was easy because he visited the day I thought of taking you.”

“Well, gracias Juan!” Andi said.

The two young people were now riding through the streets of San Francisco, which were gradually getting less populated as they neared the closest beach. Andi began to feel apprehensive at all the water.

“How is everyone so calm?” She asked in Spanish. “All this water could flood this town any minute!”

“Someday I think someone will build a great big bridge from here to the other side of the bay, next to the gulf of San Francisco.” The Mexican boy grinned, waiting to see Andi’s reaction.

“Why?!” Andi gaped. “Aren’t ferries good enough?”

“There’s a lot of impatient people in this world, Andi. Always want more.” Juan answered matter-of-factly. “Well, welcome to the playas arenosas, Andi- the sandy beaches.”

Andi looked around slowly, taking in her surroundings. Everything around her was something she’d never seen before. Crabs scuttled in the white sand. Small black weeds sprouted everywhere. White slivers that looked like broken dish pieces were delicately tucked in the layers of sand. And then there was the ocean, which was hard not to look at. It’s smooth but powerful way of rushing in and out gave Andi a feeling of  exhilaration. “It’s…so…BLUE.”

Juan chuckled. “That's right.” He let go of Andi’s reins and she slowly rode along the foaming waves.

Seeing Andi’s enthusiasm grow, Juan quickly put on his commanding attitude. “Now, don’t get too close to the waves, or the horses could get spooked, alright?”

Andi nodded a reply, still amazed at all of her atmosphere.

“And I take full responsibility for any of your injuries,” Juan added.

“What a great spot to race,” Andi said.

“Now-” Juan tried to say seriously.

But Andi knew Juan was as happy as she was and would love to race as well. Determination taking over, Andi let out a whoop and charged the horse down the beach, sand kicking up behind her. Riding sidesaddle was not troublesome anymore, but It would’ve been nicer to be riding like she did on the ranch-even bareback. Sand was so beautiful and astounding to ride on.

Andi heard galloping behind her. Juan was frowning. Was it with disapproval? Andi brought her horse to a halt, waiting for what Juan would say with tense apprehension.

But, surprisingly, Juan broke into an immense smile. “Where did you learn that dexterity, Pierda Andi? That doesn’t look like the ‘poor horsemanship habits’ your tia says you have. That was perfecto.”

Andi sighed with relief. “Mainly practice,” she shrugged. “But also you.”

Juan nodded. “Gracias,” He said.

“But…” Andi bit her lip. Would he say yes? “Do you think we could try riding bareback?”

Juan sighed, shaking his head. “Puedo ganar-can I win? Fine, Andi.” He smiled. “One lap, no saddle.”

But one lap was the beginning of a slippery slope. Rapidly cantering along the golden beach was too captivating to be shortened. Andi’s spirits took flight as the two stallions joyously raced parallel to the other’s flanks. Back and forth the two riders competed, clouds of sand billowing around them like tornadoes. It was everywhere, but Andi didn’t mind.

“Let’s stop for a Segundo, Miss Andi.” Juan called out. “Just to catch my breath.”

Andi nodded. She was out of breath, too, and coughing a bit. Is it the sand? She wondered.

“Oh mi,” Juan commented. “It smells like smoke.”

Andi gasped for breath. That is what it is, She realized with fear. Andi had overheard her share of fire stories-and seen a few as well.

“Que podria ser?” She asked in terror, wishing she were with one of her steadfast brothers. “What could it be?”

All of a sudden a loud crack echoed through the air. Red fiery streaks came brimming and shooting up over everyone’s heads, licking at the air.

Andi coughed again. “What are we going to do?” She cried. Now is not the time to panic, she told herself.

Juan kept a good job of hiding his fear. Remaining calm, he shouted over the terrifying booms, “We need to get as far away as possible, Andi. Those are fireworks.”

*****

            “Prisa, Andi- Hurry!” Juan’s cry rose above the screaming of the people, the echo of the fireworks, and the frantic whinnying of all the San Francisco horses. The fireworks had gotten worse while the two riders had struggled to bridle their frantic mares.

            Andi nodded, but most of her was in an anxious trance. Who was launching the fireworks? Why were they threatening the public society? How lethal were these fireworks?

            “Por favor, Andi. Follow me.” Juan commanded. “As soon as we get to the school, we’ll be safe.”

            Andi tried to trust the young hand, but her thoughts were scattered, scrambled by the trauma.

            “Miss Andi, we-” Juan’s smooth but firm words were interrupted by a bolt of blue fire that landed several feet away, but still in plain sight. Andi screamed in horror. The bolt split right through a Chinese bicycle, causing the rider to swerve off the road and fall. Only half of the bike remained on the road.

            Juan stared at the man but kept leading the two horses in a frisk trot. Andi shook her head with her eyes shut, trying to erase the sight from her mind.

            “The fireworks must be shooting off at an angle...” Juan said gravely in Spanish. “Where they start is not where they land! The colegio might not be so safe!” He looked around, the first time Andi had seen him this way, wildly.

            “But we’re so close to the school,” Andi pleaded.

            “But your safety!”

            Suddenly Andi’s horse whinnied loudly. Its patience had been desecrated. With a mighty rear, it ripped the reins from Juan’s hand and galloped the way it was already going, Andi bravely hugging it is neck.

            If only the girls could see me now, Andi thought sarcastically, panickily trying to reach for the reins. But the russet stallion was not interested in being controlled. It forcefully galloped toward it is stable, its legs becoming entangled in the reins all the more. Andi could do nothing but try to balance on the uncontrollable, distorted horse, using all the tricks she had picked up over the years.

            “Pleeeaaassseee calm down, horse.” She pleaded with the beast.

            But the horse did not calm down. It kept on galloping toward its destination, tossing It’s poor rider around on its back. Then, from upside down on the back of the distraught animal, Andi saw the San Francisco Lady’s School-all on fire. Several men were working together to douse the raging flames coming from the right side of the building. Colorful fireworks, which would usually be a thrilling sight to many, were uncontrollably shooting out of a window at a rapid pace.

            Florence’s window, Andi realized with alarm. Suddenly she dropped off the horse and lay on the grass for a few terrorizing seconds. I told Jenny to keep an eye on Florence’s room, she thought, crying. What if she is in there still? What if- Andi then realized that little Will was also supposed to be doing chores in the building. But how were there fireworks in Mrs. Whitaker’s Ladies’ School?

            Suddenly strong hands pulled her up. Andi saw the worried face of Juan Carlos and started to say something. But before she could, Juan breathed a sigh of relief and rode away on his horse toward the burning building.

            Guess he wanted to see if I am alive, Andi thought. Wait-

            Andi broke into a run and followed the Mexican. But before she could, a shrill voice alerted her that her freckled friend was okay.

            “Andi! Are ya crazy?” Jenny Grant grabbed Andi’s arm and looked her in the eyes. “It’s madness in there!”

            “Oh, thank goodness you’re okay!” Andi said, crying with joy and sadness. “I thought you’d be stuck in there! What-?”

            “Why are you blubbering girls waiting?!” Shrieked Mrs. Whitaker, coming up behind Jenny. “Get into a waiting wagon-now!!!”

            Andi rushed with her friend towards three large wagons. About two dozen or so girls were already crammed in them, weeping and collapsing on each other from fright. Andi and Jenny quickly jumped on the first one. Surprisingly, it was the least cramped.

            “Pray that Will won’t be trapped in the building,” Andi told Jenny.

            Jenny’s eyes grew wide and she turned away, wiping her eyes. “Must be the smoke,” she said.

            “What happened?” Andi asked.

            The wagon started rolling away from the school. The two packhorses struggled to pull the wagon with all the girls in it. “C’mon, ye can do it, c’mon, hoss’!” The driver demanded, cracking his whip above the uproar of the fireworks.

            Men and women ran past the fleeing wagons carrying large buckets of water. Others ran past the wagon, running for their lives.

            “Well, I went back to school normally,” Jenny began, “and no one suggested that anything wrong was going to happen-like this. But later while I was in our room, I began thinking what else could be in that box besides pastries. I kept on thinking this through the rest of my studies. Then suddenly I-and all the other girls in the class, of course-heard a huge crack, like a gunshot. Then two more. And then a big whistle.” Jenny lowered her voice to a whisper. “All the other well-to-do ‘fraidy cats were petrified, naturally. But not me. We haven’t heard not too many gunshots before, right?”

            Andi thought about how she had reacted to the fireworks. “Well, I was pretty scared, Jenny.” She admitted. “But that was good of you to be a leader.”

            Jenny looked sheepishly at Andi. “Well, to tell the truth, I was scared, too. I just tried not to show it.”

            “Alright, ladies!” Mrs. Whitaker shouted powerfully. Andi gave her credit in her mind for not being a wimpy mistress in the midst of a crisis. “This is the spot that the school has decided as a safe spot in case anything like this ever happened-and now it has.” The wagons had come to a stop in an open field. “No one, I repeat, NO ONE is allowed to leave. Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

            Instead of the usual, ‘Yes, Mrs. Whitaker,’ that the class always said whenever the Mistress asked this question, the girls in all three wagons gave a high, “Oh, yes, Mrs. Whitaker!”

            Mrs. Whitaker stiffly nodded in approval. “Okay. Please stay seated or standing in the wagons in case we need to move again. And now, we must hope with all our heart that the school will be saved- and all our belongings in it.”

            “But shouldn’t we also pray?” Andi asked. Maybe her teacher thought prayer was only for meals?”

            Mrs. Whitaker thought for a moment. “Yes, I suppose we could do that.  Would anyone like to pray for us?”

            A girl raised her hand. “I will.” She broke out in tears. “Oh Lord, please help this to never happen again, and please let it end soon. Please let nothing be damaged. Maybe do a miracle. Um…amen.”

            Another girl went. “Oh God, I want you to help the fire get out right now because it's really scary and gloomy. And do not let that bad thing get me. And do not let anyone die. Amen.”

            “Anyone else?”

            Andi went. “Dear father, let your will be done here, and… I just hope that people will look back and see how there was a purpose for this. Thank you God, that we are alive and the fireworks didn’t hurt anyone here. Amen.”

            Andi did not know if anyone else felt better, but she did. It feels good to say thank you, she thought.

And then she was sure everyone felt better when she saw a line of horses trotting over to where they were.

            “The fire’s under control, Miss.” A man said, leading some of the horses from the stable. Juan was following in the back on a horse with Will. Andi thanked God quietly. “Now the question is: who started it?”

            “Yes,” Mrs. Whitaker said firmly. “Well, we know it started in Florence’s room, but that doesn’t mean you lit them off, right, Florence?”

            “No, Ma’am.”

            Andi looked at Jenny. Jenny looked at Florence. Florence looked at Mrs. Whitaker. Mrs. Whitaker looked at Juan Carlos. Juan looked at Will. “You were in the building today.” He confirmed to the Peruvian in Spanish. “What do you know?”

            The youngster answered Juan rapidly in Spanish as well. Then Juan relayed the message to Andi, who translated it to Mrs. Whitaker.

            “Will says he saw the firework box on a spot he needed to dust.” Andi told the lady. “He put it on a shelf while he cleaned the area. The fireworks fell off the shelf, setting them off.”

            “Will must be fired!” Mrs. Whitaker raged to the weeping Will.

            “But Mrs. Whitaker,” Andi blurted, looking at Florence. “Will also said he found the fireworks in Florence’s room!”

            Florence’s face went white.

            Mrs. Whitaker stopped. “You brought in the fireworks?” She asked the elder girl, puzzled.

            Florence looked ready to faint. “It was only a small…” she looked at Mrs. Whitaker. “…Yes.” Florence looked down.

            “Well, then.” Mrs. Whitaker scratched her brow. “I suppose…I suppose that will have to be worked out.”  She bit her lip and thought for a moment. “Is the school safe to go back?”

            The man leading the horses snapped to attention. “Uh...yes, ma’am! Thankfully the fireworks were shooting off unevenly, so none of them shot back onto the school. The school is only damaged on the side the fireworks were shooting out of…and that’s only the window.”

            “Well, then.” Mrs. Whitaker declared. “You heard the man. Back to the school we go.” The men driving the horse wagons looked as tired as their mares. They snapped their whips and the buggies were off. Everyone was uneasily silent.

*****

            Andi was, again, trying to make up something for her English class. Only this time it was a poem rhyming with assonance.

            “What sounds like ‘sunk’?” She considered. “Oh! Maybe blu-”

            “Excuse me, Andi?” A voice said.

            “Just a minute, Jenny! I need to write this-ughhh…I forgot it again!” Andi turned to her friend. Only it was not her friend.

            It was Florence.

            “I’m sorry, Andrea.” The girl said sincerely.

What?

Andi could tell what a fake ‘I’m so-blub, blub-sorry-blub, blub’ was from experience. This was not it.

            Andi cocked her head. “What are you apologizing to me for?”

            Florence swallowed. “I smuggled the fireworks because of you, Andrea. I wanted to put one in your room so you’d get in trouble for doing it.”

            Andi was taken aback. “Why? What have I done?” She asked.

            “That’s just it.” Florence looked down. “You’ve done nothing. I am just upset because you are always so happy- no matter what happens. It sounds senseless, but I feel like never happy, no matter how much I ask God to be, and it just makes me-just mad to see you always…always…”

            Andi stared at the girl. That is senseless. She could say. She could also turn around with a grudge up her sleeve, unwilling to forgive. She could forgive Florence, but still remember her as a pinch-nosed, arrogant city girl. Or she could do something that would please her family, God, and even herself-forgive and forget.

            She chose the latter.

            “Florence,” she began. “I actually have sometimes envied you-your way of getting on the teacher’s side, mostly. But envy does not help you in any way. I’ve learned that enough,” She smirked. “So really, when you envy someone for what they have, you should really turn to God to give you the grit to say, ‘thank you’ for the things he gives you, and not ‘please’. That is what gives me joy.”

            Florence thought for a moment. “You mean by praying,” She said.

            Andi nodded. “I forgive you.”

            Florence smiled. “A lot of people make me out to be a snobbish, stuck-up, unscrupulous blabbermouth.” She laughed. “Thank you, Andi.”

*****

            Clickety-clack, clickety-clack. The train wheels chanted repetitively. Andi stared across the aisle at her oldest brother Justin. He was asleep on the booth. What rhymes with adventure? Andi wondered, trying to think of a chant to go along with the repetitiousness of the wheels. Oh! Quench-

            “Guess the train is more tiring than someone who works in an office can handle.” Jenny joked. It had been decided that she would go home with Andi and stay in San Joaquin valley with her for a few weeks before returning to her home in Tacoma.

            Andi laughed. In her head she thought, oh well. Looking down at her duffle bag, Andi noticed a slip of paper that she had not noticed before. Pulling it out, Andi saw it was a verse.

When Anxiety Was Great Within Me, Your Consolation Brought Joy To My Soul.

Psalm 94:19

                                                                                                                                    

 From,

Florence