Horse girl gallops cross the playground. She whinnies and shakes her mane, stringy brown hair hanging in her face. Next she’s trotting and neighing in that grassy patch all on her lonesome. Horse girl bends her head down, bites a long blade of grass. Teacher tells her off, says, Young ladies aren’t supposed to eat grass. Horse girl turns girl enough to speak, says, I ain’t eating, just chewing the stalk, same as the farmer boys. Teacher sighs. Horse girl keeps chewing. When teacher ain’t looking, horse girl swallows it down.
Everybody talks about horse girl.
I hear horse girl only eats carrots, apples, and oats.
I hear horse girl sleeps in this shed that looks like a barn.
I hear it’s covered in straw, and that’s where she shits.
I hear her mama has to shovel it up.
I hear horse girl tried to nail horseshoes to her feet last summer. Why else
you never see her wear sandals?
Horse girl ain’t like the equestrian girls. All them love horses, but the equestrian girls are still girls, even when they stand in a herd swishing their ponytails. The equestrian girls watch horse girl, count her strides, judge her jumps. Sometimes one’ll shout, You broke your gait! Horse girl sticks out her bottom lip, blows her bangs away, just long enough to give ‘em the stink eye real good, then she gallops off.
For show-and-tell, one of the equestrian girls brings a bridle. Mallory swishes her ponytail, says, It’s a snaffle bridle with an O-ring bit, but I got three other bits at home, and you can change ‘em out like this, see? At recess Mallory sneaks the bridle out. Horse girl’s in the grass, pretending not to eat it. The equestrian girls are all standing round in their herd, watching horse girl and whispering. Mallory’s got the bridle curled up in her arms like it might jump and run off. She walks over to horse girl, says, Hey. Horse girl snorts. Horse girl’s on all fours, so Mallory leans down. You ever wear a bridle? Horse girl eyes her, eyes the bridle, gives it a sniff. Mallory’s got the bridle in one hand. Her other hand dangles in the air, then she scratches horse girl behind the ear. Horse girl opens her mouth. She tries to take the bit, but it’s too big for her, can’t fit behind her teeth. Horse girl shakes her head, whinnies out of it. The bridle’s drooping out of Mallory’s hand now. She sighs, same as teacher when nobody’s acting right. Mallory says Don’t you get it? You ain’t a horse. Horse girl shivers, shakes her mane, but Mallory keeps saying it. You ain’t a horse. You ain’t a horse. Horse girl trots in a circle. Mallory’s screaming now. You ain’t a horse, Sarah! Horse girl rears up on her back legs right in front of Mallory, and horse girl is tall, taller than Mallory, so Mallory backs up, but she’s still screaming, You’re a girl! You ain’t a horse. You’re a girl! Horse girl lands on her front hooves hard, then gallops around, and now teacher is hurrying over, saying Ladies, stop this. But horse girl is already in front of Mallory, kicking her back legs up, one hoof square in the chest, the other landing messy, half-jaw, half-neck, and now Mallory’s on her back wheezing, and teacher’s yelling, Get the nurse, but nobody’s moving.
Nobody except horse girl.
She’s galloping to the fence, launching herself high, higher than makes sense. She sails over the fence, kicks her legs up at the top, and lands like it’s the most natural thing. She keeps galloping, galloping through the field, and there ain’t no way she’s a girl.
She’s a horse. A wild one.
K.A. Nielsen (she/they) is a U.S. writer living in Scotland, though they’ve called Sweden, Turkey, and Indonesia home, too. Their work has appeared in Ghost City Press, Milk Candy Review, Fusion Fragment, voidspace, and elsewhere. When not writing, they enjoy looking up words in a “compact” dictionary. More at www.kanielsen.net.