The Horse Must Go On Read online

I just hope Kona, Sirocco, and Brisa don’t feel bad when they compare their auditions with mine, Sumatra thought to herself.

  Then she began to sing.

  “The hilllllls are alive, with the sound of muuuuuu-siiiiic…”

  As she sang, she twirled—around and around and around.

  Twirling’s always a show-stopper, she thought to herself confidently.

  Finally, Sumatra finished her act with a knock-knock joke—a real knee-slapper about an orange and a banana.

  Then she took a deep bow and waited for the applause.

  But, surprisingly, all she heard was silence!

  And maybe a groan or two.

  “Owwwwww!” Sirocco moaned, shaking his head hard. “My ears hurt!”

  Meanwhile, Brisa turned to Kona.

  “I don’t get that joke,” she whispered—loudly. “‘Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?’ What does that mean?”

  Sumatra frowned in confusion.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “You didn’t like my number?”

  Sirocco only shook his sore ears some more. Meanwhile, Kona gulped and hung her tongue out of her mouth.

  “All that twirling made me a little dizzy,” she rasped. “I think I might throw up.”

  Sumatra felt a cold chill come over her.

  “You hated it,” she said to her friends. “You hated my performance!”

  “Well…” Brisa’s eyes darted back and forth, and she looked uncomfortable.

  Kona made a woozy sound.

  And Sirocco yelled, “What?! I can’t hear you over the ringing in my ears.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Sumatra wailed. “I’ve got no talent!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Gotta Dance

  Sadly, Sumatra rose into the air and headed back toward the dandelion meadow. A gloomy Sirocco, Kona, and Brisa followed her. After they’d flown in silence for a while, Sirocco spoke up.

  “I’m sorry that you’re so very untalented, Sumatra,” he declared sweetly. “But don’t worry. Your show will go on. After all, my singing was awesome.”

  “And my Mother Goose recital was very dramatic,” Kona noted, “once I got the lines right.”

  “And I think I’ve finally got the stage directions straight,” Brisa piped up. “Plus, I have a great idea for how to do up my mane for our show!”

  The three Wind Dancers looked at Sumatra expectantly.

  But Sumatra only cringed.

  And squirmed.

  And avoided all six of her friends’ eyes.

  Sirocco’s face fell.

  “Oh, I get it,” he said sadly. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all, right?”

  Sumatra sighed.

  “Right,” she said. “I guess we’re all kind of untalented.”

  “Well, I have something nice to say,” Brisa responded. “I thought Sumatra’s twirling was lovely. She looked like a silver and green top! She didn’t make me dizzy at all.”

  “Thanks, Brisa,” Sumatra said. “That makes me feel a little bet—”

  Sumatra stopped herself with a gasp.

  “Hey, hold on just a minute!” she said. “Twirling!”

  “Huh?” her friends asked.

  Sumatra did a neat pirouette in the air.

  “Twirling!” she repeated. “And leaping and somersaulting and loop-de-looping!”

  “Do you think the audition got to her?” Sirocco muttered to Kona and Brisa. “She’s talking crazy!”

  “I’m talking dancing,” Sumatra retorted. “So we can’t act. Or sing. Or tell jokes. Or tell stage right from stage left. Who cares?”

  “I care,” Kona said with a sniff.

  “You’ve forgotten who we are,” Sumatra insisted with another pretty pirouette. “We’re the Wind Dancers. Forget about all those other talents—we can put on a ballet! A show that’s nothing but dance.”

  Sumatra watched her friends’ faces slowly change from sad to stunned. Kona was the first to agree.

  “Of course!” she declared. “Great idea, Sumatra! Dancing is something we can all do. You know, even big horses dance. Their kind of dance is called dressage.”

  “Dress-what?” Sirocco blurted. “What kind of weird word is that?”

  “It’s pronounced dress-AHJ,” Kona said to Sirocco. “And it’s not weird. It’s French for ‘training.’”

  “Ooh! French!” Brisa breathed, sounding impressed.

  “Dressage is all about graceful trots and canters,” Kona explained. “Not to mention beautiful pirouettes.”

  “It sounds lovely,” Sumatra said, her heart fluttering with excitement.

  “Yeah,” Sirocco scoffed. “And, we can do that French stuff one better. Because we can do dress-AHJ on air! No talent? Ha! I don’t think so!”

  He did his own pirouette in the air.

  Well, sort of.

  His spin was more of a wobbly thrash. It reminded Sumatra of a caught fish, flopping about on the bank of a river.

  But since that wasn’t such a nice thought, Sumatra, of course, kept it to herself.

  Instead, she decided to think about something nice. Very nice. She envisioned herself and her friends dancing before an awestruck audience of frogs, birds, bugs, and big horses. They’d all look glamorous. Their magic halos would be bright and shiny. She would be draped in ribbons and Brisa in jewels. Kona would be decorated with flowers, and Sirocco would be surrounded by butterflies.

  And, they’d all be dancing beautifully, of course.

  Even Sirocco. All he needs is a little bit of direction—from me! Sumatra thought confidently.

  Sumatra was so excited that she cried, “Let’s start rehearsing first thing tomorrow!”

  This time, she didn’t have to coax her friends. They were as enthusiastic as she was. She also didn’t have to struggle for something nice to say. A compliment was on the tip of her tongue.

  “We,” she declared to her friends, “are going to be fabulous!”

  * * *

  Well, I was partly right, Sumatra sighed to herself early the very next morning. We are fabulous—fabulously klutzy!

  Sumatra and her friends were hovering over the dandelion meadow. Sumatra had made up a short dance for the horses, just to get them started. But already, their rehearsal was going horribly. Kona, Brisa, and Sirocco kept forgetting the steps. Or they remembered them, but did them wrong. Or they did them right, but in the wrong order!

  “Okay,” Sumatra said to the other Wind Dancers, blowing her forelock out of her eyes. “Let’s go through this one more time, shall we? Watch me carefully.”

  Sumatra performed the dance combination for her friends, narrating as she went.

  “You start with a tail wiggle,” she explained, swishing her tail back and forth vigorously.

  “Then you leap.” Sumatra sprang through the air, floating in a perfect arc.

  “And spin and kick, and work those jazz hooves,” Sumatra ordered excitedly as she twirled, whirled, and shook her hooves.

  “And end with a flip,” she said, curling into a neat ball and tumbling through the air.

  “Ta-da!” she said proudly as she finished. “See, it’s simple!”

  Kona, Sirocco, and Brisa stared at her, open-mouthed.

  “Simple for who?” Sirocco squawked. “The Lipizzaner stallions?”

  But Kona rose up gently and placed a hoof on Sirocco’s back.

  “Be positive, Sirocco,” she said. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

  “Right,” Sirocco grumbled. “I guess.”

  Kona turned to Brisa.

  “Right, Brisa?” she prompted.

  Brisa was staring wistfully up at the clouds. She jumped when Kona said her name.

  “What was that?” she said, startled.

  “You did watch Sumatra’s demonstration, didn’t you?” Kona asked, looking worried.

  “Oh, of course,” Brisa said. Then she glanced back at the clouds. “Well, I might have drifted off for a second the
re. But don’t worry. If I forget a move, I’ll just wing it. Why else would we have wings, right?”

  Brisa fluttered her wings and gave a tinkly little laugh—a laugh that made Sumatra grit her teeth.

  You can’t wing it, she wanted to cry out. This is choreography. Everybody has to do the same moves! At the same time! And as fabulously as me!!!

  Of course, Sumatra didn’t say any of those not-nice things out loud. She only sighed and said, “Let’s take it from the top. And five, six, seven, EIGHT—”

  No sooner had the Wind Dancers begun their number than Brisa cried out.

  “Ow!” she said. “Sirocco, your tail wiggled right into my eye.”

  “Sorry!” Sirocco yelled in mid-leap.

  Unfortunately, he forgot to look before he leaped.

  Crash!

  Sirocco had catapulted himself right into the branches of the Wind Dancers’ apple tree! He straddled a branch, looking woozy.

  “Sirocco!” Kona cried. “Are you all right?”

  “Keep dancing without me,” Sirocco rasped. “The show must go on!”

  So, huffing and puffing, Brisa and Kona moved on to the dreaded spin-kick-jazz-hoof-flip combo.

  “Okay, let’s see,” Brisa said, frowning with concentration. “That’s jazz kick—”

  She wiggled her back hooves.

  “—spinning hooves—”

  She flung her front legs out in a big circle.

  And then, she stopped.

  “Um, what was the next step again?” Brisa wondered—just as Kona flipped right into her!

  “Aaah!” Kona cried when her forehead thunked into Brisa’s front legs.

  “Oh, yeah!” Brisa said cheerily. “The flip! Thanks for the reminder, Kona.”

  Brisa did a wobbly flip in mid-air, then grinned at Sumatra.

  “You were right,” Brisa said proudly. “That was simple.”

  “Oh, right,” Kona said sarcastically, rubbing her head.

  “A breeze,” Sirocco moaned from the tree branches.

  “We all agree then,” Brisa said brightly. She turned to Sumatra. “So, Miss Director. What’s next in our fabulous dance show?”

  “What’s next, Brisa?” Sumatra asked. “Plan B. As in—let’s take a break!”

  “Yay!” Sirocco cried. He flew out of the tree branches and did a celebratory flip in the air—the first perfect flip he’d completed all day.

  Sumatra rolled her eyes, but, as usual, she followed her own if-you-can’t-say-anything-nice rule and said nothing at all.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Show Must Go On?

  The next day, as the Wind Dancers stretched their wings and shook out their tails, getting ready for rehearsal, Sumatra gave herself a pep talk:

  When Brisa does a flop instead of a flip, she ordered herself in her head, don’t roll your eyes.

  When Sirocco is gangly instead of graceful, don’t cringe.

  And when Kona slips when she ought to slide, simply smile.

  And then I’m going to try something new, Sumatra thought. Instead of saying nothing at all, I’ll say something nice! That’ll boost my friends’ confidence! And with more confidence, surely they’ll start dancing better.

  Then she clapped her hooves together and said, “Okay, everybody. Let’s start off with a simple combination of whirls and twirls, shall we?”

  She saw her friends exchange worried glances and giggled to herself.

  Wait’ll they hear all the nice things I’m going to say to them, she thought.

  Only minutes later, Sirocco gave Sumatra her first chance.

  “Here goes!” he announced. “Start with a whirl, right?”

  He whizzed in a circle.

  “Then twirl!” he said, wobbling into a spin in the opposite direction. “Then, whirl, twirl, whirl a-GAIN—aaaaah!”

  Sirocco had whirled and twirled so wildly that he’d landed right into a tree trunk—a tree trunk that was home to a beehive!

  “Oh, no!” Sirocco cried as his thunk made honey come pouring out of the hive, right onto his head.

  “Why are you upset?” Sumatra said lightly. “You were on a honey hunt when we started this adventure. Now, you’ve found it. You love honey! And look—”

  Sumatra pointed at a small swarm of bees that had flown out of the hive to buzz angrily at Sirocco.

  “—the bees are annoyed, but they’re not stinging.”

  Sirocco looked at Sumatra suspiciously—while he indeed licked honey off of his nose.

  “Yeah, I like honey,” he said. “But you like perfect dance moves even better. Don’t you have any criticism for me?”

  Sumatra cocked her head and thought.

  “You know, Sirocco,” she said admiringly, “I’ve never seen anyone do dance moves so fast! You’re not just a whirler. You’re a whirlwind!”

  “Uh, thanks!” Sirocco said with surprise (and another big lick of honey).

  Next came a kick sequence—and time for some “nice” words for Kona.

  “Whoops!” Kona said as her first kick accidentally connected with an apple hanging from a low tree branch. The apple flew through the air and landed with a plop in a mud puddle near the creek.

  “I’ll try again,” Kona said with a sigh.

  Kick! Plop!

  This time, Kona’s hoof met with an acorn. It, too, sailed through the sky, landing right next to the apple in the puddle.

  “Oooh!” Kona growled with frustration. She kicked some more.

  Plop! Plop! Plop!

  By the time Kona finished practicing her kicks, she was hot and sweaty, and the mud puddle was crowded with two more acorns, one yellow dandelion head, and a mightily disgruntled bluebird!

  “I’m awful!” Kona wailed.

  “No, you’re not. You’re a sharpshooter!” Sumatra countered. “Do you realize that every time you kicked something, it landed in exactly the same place? Wow! What aim!”

  “O-kay,” Kona said. “Whatever you say, Director.”

  Finally, there was Brisa.

  “Try this, Brisa,” Sumatra said, doing a tuck and roll through the air.

  “Okay!” Brisa said. But instead of a tuck and roll, she did a roll and tuck. The jewels in her magic halo made a lovely tinkling sound as she did.

  “Um, now how about this?” Sumatra proposed. She lifted her left front leg to do a pretty pirouette, followed by a backflip.

  “Sure thing!” Brisa chirped. With a tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, she pointed her right leg, then did a front flip.

  “Can you try just a twist?” Sumatra said (with a tiny sigh). She turned to the right.

  Tinkle, tinkle.

  Brisa turned left.

  Sumatra forced a smile and made herself pat Brisa’s pretty mane.

  “Your jewels sound very pretty when you dance,” she offered lamely.

  “Thanks!” Brisa said. But then she looked wistful as she gave one of her jewels a tinkly tap. Kona and Sirocco were looking a little sad, too.

  Oh, no! I don’t think my plan is working, Sumatra thought to herself in a panic. Quick! Say more nice things!

  “You’re almost there—all of you,” she declared to her friends. “You just need a little more practice is all!”

  She waited for her friends to crack a smile, maybe even do an enthusiastic kick or two.

  But they only hung their heads.

  Desperately, Sumatra tried to think of something—anything—that might make her friends feel good.

  “How about taking a break!” she said enthusiastically. “And then we can start working on our big finale!”

  “Okay,” Brisa, Sirocco, and Kona said dully.

  The three Wind Dancers flew to a nearby creek and plunked their sore hooves into the soothing water.

  But Sumatra was filled with too much nervous energy to rest.

  “I’m going to go over there,” she told her friends, pointing at a bit of shade beneath a nearby willow tree. “I’ll work on some more choreography.”

  Sumat
ra ducked beneath the wavy willow branches and tried to dream up a fabulous finale for her dance show.

  “And a-one, a-two, a one, two, three,” she counted to herself as she choreographed her dance. But between the ones, twos, and threes, she was distracted by snatches of her friends’ conversation.…

  “What are we going to do?” Brisa asked Kona and Sirocco. “I’m just not sure we’re going to get these dance moves. Sumatra will be so disappointed!”

  “And not just Sumatra!” Sirocco complained. “What about the audience? When we mess up all our dance moves, we’ll be embarrassed! The snakes will hiss. The porcupines will throw quills. The skunks will make a stink!”

  “At least Sumatra’s being nice,” Brisa pointed out. “And she must mean it, because you know Sumatra. If she can’t say something nice—”

  “—she doesn’t say anything at all,” Kona finished. “You’re right. And that’s why we just have to keep trying. For Sumatra. Putting on this dance show is her dream!”

  “I guess you’re right,” Sirocco said. “Even if we are really sore.”

  “And tired,” Brisa agreed.

  “And untalented,” Kona said, frowning in disappointment.

  “We just have to work harder,” Brisa added with a sigh.

  Sumatra bit her lip and peeked out at her friends through the leafy willow branches. They were all staring gloomily at their hooves. The flowers in Kona’s magic halo were droopy. Brisa’s jewels were dull. And Sirocco’s butterflies were listless.

  Sumatra flew up to sit on one of the top branches of the weeping willow. Honestly, she was feeling sort of weepy herself! She didn’t know what to do.

  If I make my friends keep dancing, she thought, tears gathering in her eyes, they’ll be miserable.

  But if I call the dance show off, Sumatra knew, then I’ll be miserable.

  Sumatra sniffed quietly on her bobbing willow branch.

  What do I do? she wondered. I meant all the nice things I said. Sirocco is super-fast. And Kona does have great aim. And Brisa’s jewels are very musical. My friends are really fabulous—just not for a dance show!

  Sumatra shook her head sorrowfully and waited for hopelessness to fill her soul.