My Story of a Boy

I sat at my computer, just staring at the screen. Hell, if I had to, I could play tetris some more. But that would be bad. I had started to dream, you know, about tetris. And trust me, when you start to dream about tetris, you know something's gone terribly wrong with your brain. Like it's sick or something. So, shaking off the thought of mental instabilities, I logged onto YouTube and started browsing through the songs. My favorite band is Death Cab for Cutie, so, naturaly, I started there. After lisening to their song, 'Someday You Will Be Loved' I couldn't hold up the mental dam I had made, to block all those thoughts I didn't want to face. All those memories and pent up feelings. So I logged onto my glogster, and started spilling my story.

I hate Hope, you know. It's soo irrelevent, soo fruitless, soo stupid. It makes you think that everything's going to turn out okay, that tommorrow you'll wake up and it'll be alright and good, and that birds will sing and the one you love will wake up beside you and smile up at your face, and tell you how much they love you, how they're never going to leave... How your love will be forever. Forever is shit. Like hope. Shit. All of it. Stupid shit. Now you know I'm bitter. I guess I have to tell you why, huh? Otherwise I'd just be that crazy girl who cursed and yelled and kept too many cats. What can I tell you? I was in Love.

So this is my story. Yes, I know it's small, space- wise, but it fits how it makes me feel. My story begins when I was thirtten, young, and ambitious. My mother, dysfunctional as she is, got me a job- a well paying job- with her polo buddy, John. He owns soo much land and soo many racehorses, it isn't funny. He's crazy rich, probaly because he doesn't pay most of his people even minimum wage. And he doesn't have to- he gets most of his grooms and grunt workers from Mexico- all of them illegal. It's really nice for him- he made them a little villiage of trailers, and they bring their families and become his slaves. Until they gain their citizenship. Then they leave like WHOOSH! gone. Smart peeople, those Mexicans. They get out as soon as they can. But then again, there is always more of them where they come from. Always more. So, I got a job as a steeplechasing jockey at one of John's barns, and went to work. Everyday the same old rutine. That is, until I started racing. Nothing big, because I didn't have a liscense yet, but some little local shindigs and stuff. Sometimes John and a neighbor barn wanted to match horses, and poof, I was there. It was nice, for me. Great excersize, more than good money, and a life with horses. One day, John decided that I should go down to Florida with two of his other girl jockeys, and a bunch of horses that they were going to race. He, on the other hand, was going to France to look at these other pretty ponies that he might be interested in adding to his insanely large herd of fabulous horses. So the boss and I parted ways, and school was left behind me, even though my textbooks had their own suitcases. I wasn't going to race, just to watch, to learn, so what the hell else was I going to do? I had over $4500 dollors in my pocket (not literaly) in the form of a checking card, And all the time in the world. The other jockeys kept an eye on me, but they were too busy managing everything and racing to pay too close attention to me. So I wandered off, no bad intentions ever, and I happened apon a group of teens- older teens- hanging around a block of stalls, smoking something that definately wasn't cigarettes. Innocent as I was, I wondered over to them, and asked if they were jockeys too. Some of them shrugged, they had seen kids like me come and go, but they were vetrens, and they were stuck in this life, what they hell was I to them? Nothing. But one boy answered me, he was nice, with longish white hair, shoulder- length. Wavy. Okay, more than nice. His green eyes washed over me, not really even seeing that I was there. He asked if I was new. I replied yes, I was new here, and was there anything fun to do around here. They all laughed. "You're looking at it sweetheart," a girl blew the smoke she had inhaled out at me, teasing. Her name was Lola, I found at later, She died a year ago, overdosed in her horses' stall. But back then she was alive, and kicking. One of the best riders for her boss. "Welcome to the life of a bitch," she told me, when they found out that I had only started riding six months before hand. "You want me to show you around?" the hansome boy with white hair and green eyes stubbed out his smoke. "Sure," I replied with a shrug. I didn't know who they were, but they were older. and cool. awesome to my young heart. He picked me up from my hotel room at seven p.m. "Let's go to dinner," he said, leading me away. I felt over dressed in my polo shirt and rolled up jeans. Docilely I followed him to his little blue truck, and hopped in, feeling oddly at home. My mom has a red pick up, I told him with a smile. He smiled back and said that these little trucks were worth their weight in gold. Little troopers, he called them. Then he took me to a small place that made six-inch hoagies cheap. It was on the corner off of a mainstreet. Intown. In the up-town. A nice little place, gave off the feeling of home. I told him so, to fill the air with my voice- he wasn't one for talking. Then, after I had run out of words, he asked me if I had ever ridden one of my bosses' horses on the beach. I shook my head no, that I wasn't allowed to so much as look at a horse that my boss hadn't told me to ride. I explained my relation to him, through my mother, and he nodded, understanding. He told me that Lola, the girl ealier that day, was the daughter of a man who owned racehorses, and raced them since she was old enough to sit. It saved her father money. He knew lots of kids that were forced into riding by relations. Then I asked him how he fell into this hole, and he shook his head. Told me how he was a local, and hung out near the racetracks. One day, one of his bosses' jockeys mistook him for a groom-in-training, and tossed him the reins to this racehorse, and walked away. So he did what he had watched all the other grooms do, hosed down the horse, throw a cooler sheet over him, and let the horse sip at some water and then wandered around with this dripping wet horse, looking for it's stall. Eventually, someone figured out what had happened, and his boss saw how good he had done with the horse, and offered to teach him how to ride. My hansome guy with the white hair had fallen into the world of racing and horses without soo much as a clear thought. That was when he was nine. Now he was 17, and still in the game. We lasped back into silence, and watched the sun set over the tops of the buildings, and he asked me if I would want to ride with him, on his bosses' horses, for some extra money. "We've run a bit short on people who can ride," he smiled a bit crookedly, making my heart melt, "My boss hires all the people who have no disire to ride horses, but are great at taking care of them." So I said I would check with the vetern riders who I came with, and see if it was okay. And was there a place I could meet him to talk? There was- his bosses' stables were only two stable sections behind where my bosses' horses were. What luck I had, huh? The next day, after waking up in the dark, and riding into the sunrise, I asked one of the girl jockeys if it was okay that I worked on the side. She was a bit surprized that I had been offered some work, but shrugged when she heard the other bosses' name. "He always needs riders." She scoffed, taking her horses' saddle back to the tack room. Then, as if remembering from a long time ago, reminded me to be careful, and not ride any horse that I wasn't sure of. I had a knack for sensing the horses that were going to flip out, you see. Even if they were the most perfect horses, and had never put a hoof out of line. I just knew. Still do. I promised to be smart, and behave, and then nearly ran down to where the other bosses' horses were being boarded. He was down there already, also finishing up the work outs for the morning. I asked if it wasn't too late to take him up on his offer. He smiled and took me over to his boss, a tall, skinny man with a white cowboy hat and a huge trophy buckle. He said his name was Larry, and he would be glad if I could help him out, that he paid $50 dollars a horse, to people who weren't really working for him, and that maybe I should try riding one of his leading ponies first, just to be sure that I could ride. "It's not that I don't doubt your ability," he said, clearly doubting my ability, "It's just that you're soo small- don't want you to get hurt." I shrugged, my boss had needed to see me ride too, before he let me come on board with him too, I said. One of the grooms were called, and one of the ponies that lead the racehorses up to the starting gates was brought up, tacked up like a rachorse. I smile and asked if it could run. We three laughed together and my boy with the white hair and green eyes gave me a boost into the saddle. The moment I landed in the saddle, I knew that this was a pony who wanted to be a racehorse. Never would be, but sure as hell would try. "Take him up and back for us then," The boss waved his hand to where I should go. Everyone cleared out of my path, and I smiled. These people thought I wouldn't be able to handle this kind of pony, it was obvious. So started off slow, going back and forth, getting bored by the moment. Then the boss asked if I could handle myself on the track. The track was empty, and they hadn't started to clean it yet, so we had a few minutes. So we went up to the track, and on the way, my boy with the white hair and greens eyes picked up a horse of his own. They wanted to know if I could ride with others. I smiled. This is what I had been doing all morning. When we got up to the track, the other one of the girl jockeys I came up with spotted us- she was talking with a groom. We didn't get along great, but she was decent. The boy and I did a lap, and she was talking to the boss. Then I got a little nervous. What if she didn't like the idea of me working a little on the side? We rode up, and the boy told his boss that I was good to ride, and then the other girl jockey nodded. She had come over to support me, it seemed. "It's wrong for a kid to do homework when down here," she said with a smile. They all seem to know each other, as all racehorse people do, it seems. Then she told the other boss about my sixth sense with horses. We had a couple stories, but they were embarrasing, and she had to get back to work. But no doubt that they were going to get together for beers later and talk about me. That was okay, I guess, but I wasn't sure if it was too good. But back to the track, Larry told me that I could start riding from him that afternoon, when my boy with the white hair and green eyes and some of the grooms trailered some of the horses out to the beach, for running. The thought of riding on the beach with a hansome boy made me smile. Later that day, he picked me up again from my hotel room, the boy with the green eyes. Seeing him made me smile. I was smiling alot then. He smiled at me too, and asked if I felt tired. A little confused, I answered no, but a voice in the back of my head told me that there was some joke behind it. As sure as rain, when he got me back to my hotel room, he asked me again if I was tired. All I could do was laugh. But during the ride up to the beach, in his little blue truck, he told me about some of the horses I would be riding, and about how the whole riding- on- the- beach thing worked. Apparently, Larry owned his own strip of beach. It was two miles long, and amazingly breath taking. For a bit, the moment I got out of my boy's truck, all I could do was stare at the vastness of it all, at the ocean, that was huge, and made me feel oh soo small. It made my head spin with thoughts of the universe and size, and things I can't even begin to remember. Laughing, he asked me if I had ever seen the ocean, the beach, before. Somewhat embarassed, I admitted that this was my first time being on soo much sand. That took him by surprize. "Really?" he asked me, incredious. I shrugged and answered him again that this was my first time on the beach. "If you want," I made him smile, with my youth and innocence, "We can go swimming in the ocean. It's good for the horses, not only us too." I would enjoy that, I told him, still reeling from all that lay infront of me. A few horses later, I was astride Four Leaf Clover, a black 16.3 handed mare, with the sweetest personality, and a strong love of water. She practicaly rode me into the ocean after running up and down the beach. My boy with the white hair and green eyes and adorable half- smile roared with laughter and followed me into the ocean on his 17.2hh blood bay filly. Her name was Martinie Time, and she was a bit jumpy about the moving waters, but she loved my boy with all her heart and soul, and would do anything he asked her to. That's why he was her jockey. She never had anyone else ride her, even in races. She died on the track, three years ago, from being raced way too much. Larry sold her four months after we had ridden on the beach, and it near broke my boy's heart. But that was part of the game, he told me, trying and failing to smile, it was part of the game. It was all just a game. Just a game. From that day on, my boy and I rode together everyday- well, almost everyday. Sometimes my original boss called down to the girl jockeys, to have me do some thing or other. He watched me race once, my boy with the white hair and green eyes. John had sent another horse down, a new horse, name of Eazy Az Pie, but stable name Applez. That was a horse with a sense of humor. Would move his leadline and halter around, unclip his food bucket and throw it- food still inside- out of his stall, and then whinny for more. But he was the politest horse you'd ever lay your eyes on. A true gentlemen. I had tried to convince John to retire him to me, seven months ago, when Applez pulled a ligament, and couldn't race anymore, but John insisted that I couldn't handle a stud, and that Applez would be happier at his own stables. But I know that Applez was sent back to England, back to his home stable. Or so one would hope. I miss him. The day after Applez was sent down to Florida, John wanted me to race him at a neighbor farm. The neighbor's name was Connor, and he prided himself in having the finest thouroghbred Stallion in Florida. The stud's name was Knightmare. He was high-strung and gorgeous. The only time I saw him was when one of the grooms drove me and Applez up the long drive to the nucleous of Connor's farm, the feild on my side of the truck was all for Knightmare. He watched us for a minute, then raced us up the drive, whinnying a challenge. The horse won. He was all awe-stricking beauty. The darkest bay with high black socks, a black blaze and mane and tail to match. He made my jaw drop, and drove Applez crazy. When at the farm, and unloading Applez, Connor's barn manager met us: she was 30 years old, collage drop out, and cousin to Connor's girlfriend, Lacy. Her name was Sarah Mae, and she was like Knightmare- gorgeous. My ego got a serious kick from standing in the same state as her. But she was soo nice. To me, anyways. Grooms were grooms to her. I was glad that I was not a groom. Sarah Mae explained to me what was going on. The girl jockeys I came down with really didn't tell me much of anything- they sort of took forgranted that I already knew. But, thank goodness, Sarah Mae obviously knew what I didn't know, and was intent on sharing her knowledge with me. So I stayed quiet. Better from them to think that I was shy, then to have them think that I was obnoxious. And a kid. As Sarah mae and I stood talking, as the groom who had come with me walked Applez around, letting the horse get used to this place and all the new surroundings, to my shock and extreme surprize, another truck drove up, trailer attached. It was Larry's turck, and he and my boy with the white hari and green eyes were trailering Martinie Time up to Connor's farm. It seems that all of our bosses' wanted us to race horses. John's other girl jockeys were already pre-assinged, and this is why I was down here anyways, for. John wanted to try out his new pony. Larry wanted to see if his competion's horses were really all that good, and Connor wanted to try out his favorite colt of the season, Black Knights (like black nights, but with the spelling pun) son of Knightmare, and out of his top import mare, Black Rose. All in all, another normal day. Connor came down later, when we were just about to start the little race, so he could see with his own two eyes how good his horse was. Connor was a beefy man, fat with the richness of life. and food. and all the great things that money had brought him. But mostly food. His jockey for Black Knights was a man, an older gentlemen in his forties, who went by the name McGreagger. He was a vetern, and had been riding for Connor's family since Connor was a young boy. Connor was only 28 years old. He had been running his father's farm since the man had died, nine years prior. We were all on the track, and there was a bit of an agruement weither or not to use the starting gates. In the end, I made it clear that I was not going to ride if they were going to use the starting gate. I didn't have any psychic feelings or intuitions about having any trouble with Applez, but I didn't like the starting gate. I was always late to break, and the gates made me feel claustrophobic. So we didn't use the gates. Sarah Mae had two grooms hold a peice of string up, and we brought our horses up to it. The race was over in a flash- Black Knights broke fastest, and tried to keep the lead. but I kept Applez on his shoulder, ready to fly past to the end. Martinie Time kept up with us, but we all knew she didn't have what it took to win. That's why Larry chose her to race- she could keep up with anybody, but she really didn't like to race. She didn't like to leave the pack. But Applez, who I had never ridden before, who I didn't know anything about, I knew as we flew around the corner, had knotches more to go. So I bided my time, and even as Black Knights kicked it up so the Martinie Time was sweating, and Applez was more than ready and able to blow past them, I waited until we had a quarter of the mile to go, and looked over to my boy with the white hair with a smile. Our eyes met, and he knew in that instant what I was going to do. But he wasn't quick enough to catch me. I leaned down low on Applez' neck, and let him have his head. McGreagger let his horse loose two strides too late. Applez and I roared away, and won by three strides. If the race had been any longer though, I'm pretty sure Black Knights would have given me and Applez a run for our money. But two strides too late was good enough for us to win. My grin was huge as we slowed down, letting Martinie Time and Black Knightz catch up. We did another lap to cool them down, but Applez was insistant that he atleast keep his nose ahead. We jockeys laughed together, and shook hands. It had been a fun race. "You would have lost if we had done the starting gates," McGreagger knew my type. I had to duck my head and admitt that, yes, he was more than likely right about that. My boy told me not to worry about it, that I had time enough to learn, and that he could help me out with the learning of starting gates if I wanted some pointers. McGreagger offered some pointers too, and also joked that Connor was going to try to get me to replace him. "I'm getting too old and too slow," his laugh was somber as he confided in us. The year after that race Connor retired him. But that's how the game was played: Some win, some lose, and none survive. Back at the trailers, with the grooms loading our horses up, Connor did offer me a job, that made Larry laugh- I was already working for him. But I stepped in quickly and reminded them that my loyalties lay with John. Or my mother would have my head (though that part was omitted). Sarah Mae understood completely, and pulled Connor and Larry off my back a little. My boy with the white hair and green eyes and McGreagger were hiding somewhere amoungst the grooms and horses. They both admired my brazenness to be and talk with the bosses, even Sarah Mae was a bit surprized that I stayed to chat. But that was one part of the game I understood and could play well. Very well. Politics is sort of my thing. Even when Connor and Larry tried to squeeze me for information about John and the horses he was looking at over in France, I kept my cool and brushed them off. These things I could play in my sleep. Back at the hotel, I was forced to sit and talk to the other girl jockeys and they grinded me for information about my race, Applez, and other things. They wore me out so that when my boy with the green eyes and half- smile stopped by later, on whim, I had to invite him in my room so that I didn't have to walk anywhere. We talked for two hours, about things that I don't even remember, All I remember is that we talked, we laughed, and we had fun, just talking. Not just talking though. Conversing. He was four years older than I was back then, and we were having a conversation. Everything he said made me smile. That was when I fell in love with him. For the rest of the two months that I was down there, we saw each other almost everyday, and became almost more than friends. Almost. The day that I left for home, Febuary 6th, 2004, it was raining. John was making me and one of the girl jockey- the nicer one, the one that I liked more- fly over to France to try out these other horses he had found. We couldn't race them, but we could certainly ride them for him. My boy with the white hair, green eyes and half- smile drove us to the airport, and was quiet the whole way. I was used to him and his silence, and the fact that we really didn't need to talk that much to comunicate with each other, but back then my insides screamed for him to say something, anything. I just couldn't leave without hearing the sound of his voice. The other girl jockey left us alone a minute, going to pick up our tickets, and pick up the money wired for these two months' pay. We leaned up against his truck, a bit unconfortable, a little akward. This was unusual- we had grown really quite comfortable with each other over these few months. "I'll miss you," I said, desperate for him to respond. He knew, and that made him smile. He told me that he'd miss me too, alot. Asked me if he called me, at my home, would I pick up the phone? Ofcourse I would, I was shocked that he would even tease such a thing. "I'd pick up the phone to take your call if you called me 1Oclock in the morning in France." I told him, my young face dark with seriousness. He grinned, a full grin, and said: "We'll see about that." It's 2008 now, and I called my sister, who I haven't seen nor heard from for a year, if she'd heard from him, my boy with the white hair, green eyes, and half- smile. She was silent for a moment, then told me quietly: "Nakota, he's dead."