Bloodless Day

After

The world slowed down. Then it stopped. The only thing that seemed to move was Bloodless Day, dancing and glittering across the track as Jack wrestled him to a canter, a trot. Then it flew into fast-forwards as a reporter cantered out to interview him.

Beside me, Wes was glowing in a temporary fury. "What! I thought your horse was broken! That victory was supposed to be my family's."

I didn't answer. Hands had found me, and they guided me away from the fence, towards the winner's circle. "It's where that horse, and by extension you, belongs."

He'd won.

Disbelief and clear, untainted joy rushed through me, like bubbles fizzing to the top of a soda. I walked on air the whole time there, Willifred laughing with joy over the cries of the crowd. And somehow we were in the winner's circle, and BD was there, tall and proud and covered with dirt. Jack crouched on his back in a similar state, the only clean thing about him around his eyes where the goggles had shielded his view.

"How does it feel to be the youngest jockey ever to win the Derby?"

Jack had the audacity to look annoyed. "I wouldn't know. I'm the fifth youngest, not the youngest."

Mr. Piperson, claiming credit for a victory that he'd funded but not earned, was bawling for Lilac. "I want my daughter in here for the photos!"

I ignored them all and slipped past throngs of rubberneckers, to Bloodless Day, and threw my arms around him, dirt and all. "You did it, boy," I whispered into his mane. He whickered tiredly. "That was the most amazing race ever."

Jack beamed down on me. "He's going to go all the way, I know it I know it. This was the most incredible race I've ever ridden. Secretariat couldn't hold a candle to this horse. I'd pit him against anybody, anytime. That come from behind? I'd never felt speed like it before!"

BD shook his head, budging me from my hug, and dropped his nose into my palm, soft and curious. There was a new look in his eye- dark, untamed, but prouder beyond anything he'd ever felt before. And he deserved it.

Somebody threw roses across his back.

And then Lilac was rushing in, mad and ecstatic all at once. "You did it! You did it! I can't believe-" and though she was still in her filthy jockey's clothes, I accepted the hug she bowled me over with. We rocked back and forth in the winner's circle, the world's eyes on us. Let them watch, I thought. This happiness could not be tarnished by even the most judgemental of eyes.

Somebody asked, "and who do you think is happiest with this outcome?"

"DoomsDay's owner, no doubt," Willifred answered. Everybody laughed. I risked a glance at the old trainer and saw pure joy painted there, stroking away every line that worry had carved on. All his years of racing, and he'd finally had his big victory.

"And you have Preakness dreams?" A reporter shouted.

"Triple Crown dreams!" Mr. Piperson shouted back, jovial now that Lilac was here for the photo. Something about his words made me stop and search the crowd. Wes's face popped out at me, thundering. She scowled and slipped away.

And then it was time for the photo. As reporters prepared to click, Lilac and I darted under BD's noble head, smiling and laughing. Willifred and Mr. Piperson posed. And just as the shutter snapped shut, Jack ripped a handful of roses from the quilt on BD's neck and hurled them into the air. They fell onto us like raindrops, glorious and red, red as victory.

I didn't know it was possible to be so happy.

*****

"Carrie Halestrom."

At first, stupid me, I continued grooming BD. We stood in the barn aisle, watching the shadows lengthen and listening to the tired horses crunch on their hay. Everybody had gone out to dinner, but I'd wanted some quiet time with America's newest celebrity. He leaned against the cross-ties, sighing, skin shivering as I methodically curried him. We were exhausted in the best of ways.

Besides- the words meant nothing coming from Wes's mouth. They didn't belong there. But then they registered.

I stopped grooming.

"Yes, Anna. Carrie. It's funny, though, how nobody knew anything about her. Or you. I asked around at the farm. Everybody knows you're from California, but not which city. Nobody knows why you moved. Jack never even met your parents, until prom night. Why all the secrecy?"

BD swung his head to stare at me as I stared at Wes, my mouth glued shut. His eyes were hard, curious and worried as a rush of emotion swept through me, none of them good. Wes, too, stared at me, her gaze mocking.

"It wasn't too hard to Google you and find a few names. But I researched harder, because you're so damn guilty, all the time. You let her drive drunk, didn't you? Instead of driving that car yourself. So it was she that died when you crashed, and you got away with a measly concussion and broken arm."

Scenes flashed through my mind- a speeding car, a tree that was too big, too fast. That awful shattering in my arm, pain that was nothing compared to the pain of looking into those dull eyes and knowing, just knowing, that the person who knew my soul better than anybody else was gone. Forever.

"So I thought to myself, what a shitty friend Anna was! The articles were quite clear. You didn't want to drive because you'd lost your permit, and didn't want to get caught driving without it. You would've been grounded. So you made your drunk friend do it instead."

That's not how it happened, I wanted to say.

I didn't.

Wes's sneer, if anything, hardened. "So then, not only did you instrument your friend's death, I looked up your hospital records."

I should have punched her. I should have screamed or walked away, but I didn't. I stood next to BD, frozen like a rabbit watching a semi bear down on it. The stallion had the sense to lace his ears back at the girl, but he didn't lunge forwards or snap at her.

"You were in the hospital for a week! For- what- brain damage watch? Bullshit. You sat up there in a white room with everybody catering to your every whim and need, while Carrie was buried."

Internal bleeding. I couldn't move. Horror rose in my throat, threatening to choke me.  I tried to shake my head, but it wouldn't move. "Why?"

Wes finally looked disgusted. "You didn't even go to your best friend's funeral."

I hadn't.

"Why?" This wasn't me speaking. It was somebody else pulling at my jaw, forcing the words through. I stood outside of my body, watching the scene unfold.

The girl stood in front of me, her hands on her hips as she contemplated my face, searching. I guess she found what she was looking for, because she nodded.

"You know why."

And then she left.