Read Online The Girl on the Outside by Mildred Pitts; Walter - Free Book Online

good-bye to a neighbor who had given her a ride from the stable. How many times had she spent the same number of hours with Grit and afterward felt on top of the world? Was it the heat? she wondered.
    The quiet stillness of her house with blinds drawn against the glowing sun brought back the loneliness she had felt on the bluff with Grit. It was not just the heat, it was her state of mind.
    If only she could understand what was happening inside her. Her thoughts wandered to how she had heeled Grit into a gallop when she should have gone back to see if Rod was all right. Maybe facing Rod would not have been so difficult on returning from her ride if she had stopped then.
    On her return, many of the horses were in their stalls and only a few riders were still about. Rod was waiting. She dismounted without looking at him. Even though Rod went through the same procedure—quietly unsaddling Grit, bringing the basket of oats—everything to Sophia seemed different.
    Other times she had felt free, talkative, happy, watching Rod’s silent ritual that ended with Grit in his stall, being rewarded for a good ride with the oats and a surprise. The surprise was usually an apple or a carrot provided by Rod. But today her self-consciousness in Rod’s presence had been almost unbearable. She had tried to talk to Grit, but halfhearted mouthings rattled in her throat. Finally an awesome silence settled around them.
    Upon entering the house she found no one home in the cool quietness. The shy humiliation that bordered the fear, which she experienced as Grit ate in the silence, came over her again.
    A note near the phone on the small table beneath the stairway said her parents were at May’s. Sophia could either join them, or find food on her own. No one had called.
    On the way to the kitchen she thought of Arnold. Why hadn’t he phoned? But standing in the glare of the open refrigerator’s light, her mind flashed back to the stables. Suddenly she realized that Rod was usually quiet, seldom speaking to riders unless asked something specific. With the horses he was different—a perfect hand, gentle, yet firm. Rod had not changed.
    She stood for a moment, gazing into the glaring whiteness of the refrigerator, not seeing, not remembering what she had wanted. Blinking back the tears, she made her way up to her room.
    Without thought of the beautiful candlewick spread, she lay upon the bed, fully clothed, glad no one was there to ask, “How was your ride?”
    Again she thought of Arnold not having called and her mind wandered to the conversation with Burt in the car. Mother must have known of Grandma Stuart’s warning: “They are not our kind.” Then why had she taken Burt and May to hear Negroes sing? Why was I never taken, she wondered. And why was I never told that it happened? Could Burt be lying? Did he dream that when he was a little boy and think it was real? Burt’s not crazy—anything but—she thought.
    If only somebody would straighten things out. Her world had turned upside down. And it was all because those people were forcing their way into her life. She sighed and pulled off her boots.
    Four forty-five by the clock; she had a few moments to rest. If no one came to give her a ride, she would walk to the skating rink. It was only ten minutes away. She sank into the sofa bed, her body heavy with fatigue.
    She dozed. She was on Grit, thundering wildly through a wooded path, escaping from Rod. Suddenly she sprang up rubbing sleep from her eyes. It was now a quarter to six. To meet Marsha on time, she must hurry.
    In the shower she decided to skate in her very special outfit—the white one trimmed with green. Arnold might be there.
    The house was still quiet and lonely as she ate graham crackers and drank some milk. Suddenly she realized she was really hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but there was now too little time. Enjoying the cold air from the refrigerator,