But I don’t mind, I told myself, as we trotted over ground poles and passed a baton back and forth. I was in the Byron Shire Pony Club. I was going to be competing in the Mullumbimby Show. Surely making friends with Lesley and Ash, and maybe even Violet, couldn’t be far behind.
I couldn’t help noticing, though, as I waited to turn to the left in our circle, or urged Zen to go forwards and then back, that things didn’t seem to be going as smoothly in the top class. Violet, Ash and Lesley, along with the two older boys were practising going over a series of jumps at the other end of the ground. Even from here I could hear the knocking of hooves against the jumps, the thud of the rails as they fell down, over and over again, and the annoyance in Oliver’s tone as he called out instructions.
Once the Flower Pot Girls and I finished going over our routine for what must have been the fifteenth time, Helen said, “That’s done, then. Why don’t you all dismount and you can go and watch the top class in action?”
I didn’t need to be asked twice – I was dying of curiosity. As soon as I had loosened Zen’s saddle, given him some water and tied him up in the shade, I hurried over to see what was going on.
Thirteen
“No, Paris! No! You stupid horse!” shouted Violet, throwing her hard hat on the ground. Paris trotted away from her, over to the far side of the course, where he began nibbling on the edge of a jump and at the same time lifted his tail and did a poo. “I said no!”
Five sets of jumps had been set up in a large circle. They were all as high as my chest, except for the one Violet was standing next to. Its two poles lay scattered at her feet on the ground.
“I told you not to try that one,” said Oliver in a loud voice as he walked over to her.
“I heard you,” said Violet. “But then at the last minute it just felt like it was the right thing.”
Ash and Lesley were perched on the railings, watching. Ever so casually, I climbed up on the railing next to them, trying to act as though this was no big deal.
“What happened?” I asked Ash.
“Oh, hi Frankie.” She smiled at me, but she looked anxious. “Violet’s determined to jump higher than Paris is willing.”
“And higher than Oliver says she’s allowed,” added Lesley.
“Can she do that?”
“The question is, can he stop her?” said Lesley. “Violet knows she’s got to jump higher than that if she and Paris are going to do well at the show.”
“Why?” I asked. “I mean, they seem plenty high enough right now.”
“They are,” said Lesley, “for her age. But the next group up from Violet’s is the one you have to compete in to qualify for the State Championship. Violet’s been given special permission to compete with them, but she’ll have to jump higher than this if she’s going to have a chance of moving forwards with them this year.”
Violet jammed her hard hat onto her head and walked over to where Paris seemed to be idly waiting now, staring off into the sky. She gathered his reins and swung herself up onto his back, turning him skilfully and kicking him instantly up into a trot.
“Set the timer,” she called out to Oliver, who was standing with his hands on his hips in the middle of the jumps.
“Violet, no!” he said, holding his hand up like a stop sign.
“Oliver, yes,” said Violet. “You know Shannon jumped way higher than this with Paris at the State Championships just a few weeks ago.”
“Is that true?” I whispered to Ash.
Ash nodded, her gaze still fixed on Violet and Oliver.
“If Shannon can do it, and we know Paris can do it, then the only thing we don’t know yet is if I can do it. Ash, Lesley,” Violet called out. “Can you please fix that jump?”
In a flash Ash and Lesley had darted under the fence and into the arena. Together, they placed the rails back into position on the jump.
As Violet circled Paris around just in front of me, she seemed to be talking to herself. “You can do this,” she was saying. “You can do it.”
“Violet!” shouted Oliver, but Violet wasn’t listening. She was heading for the jump now, her hands close together on the saddle’s pommel, her seat raised high into the air. Ash and Lesley had scattered to the side to stand against the fence below me.
I felt Paris’s feet thundering on the ground as he headed for the jump, and my heart lifted in my chest as he rose. They’re going to clear it! I thought, exhilarated, but then I heard that familiar knocking sound as Paris and Violet sailed over. One pole and then the other bounced onto the ground.
“Violet. Stop now!” cried Oliver.
But Violet was urging Paris forwards, her arms down low on his neck as they headed for the next jump. This was one was even higher!
And then, just before the jump, Paris veered away and stopped abruptly, causing Violet to lose her balance and fall off, landing in the big green pile of poo Paris had just done, directly in front of me.
“Oh no!” Ash groaned.
“You did that on purpose!” Violet shouted at Paris, and the expression of frustration on her face was so exactly like Paris’s – which is something I would never have noticed until Shannon taught me how to read a horse’s expression – that I laughed.
I clapped my hand tightly over my mouth, but it was too late. Violet turned to glare at me, her face pale and her eyes wide.
“Are you all right?” I whispered, but of course she couldn’t hear me.
Gingerly, she reached around to touch her back. Oliver was by her side now, and so were Ash and Lesley, their arms around her back, helping her to her feet. She took a step forwards, and then another, and everyone watching sighed in relief. Paris seemed to be fine too, grazing on the edge of a pole again at the other end of the course.
“You laughed,” said Violet, stopping abruptly in front of me.
Ash and Lesley were looking at me too, and this time their gazes weren’t friendly.
“I’m sorry,” I began to say, but she was already walking away, storming across the arena, with the others in tow.
Fourteen
I couldn’t help it! That laugh just came bubbling up out of me. She could have been hurt! I scolded myself as I watched her talking to Oliver. But somehow I had known she wouldn’t be. Paris had been doing those jumps a few weeks ago with Shannon, and so he knew what he was doing, and from the way Violet had fallen – so gracefully, simply sliding from Paris’s back to the ground – it was obvious she hadn’t even been frightened. Paris was being obstinate, and Violet was being pushy, and based on Oliver’s reaction – who was talking to Violet with a stern expression, as though saying “I told you so” – I decided this wasn’t a dangerous situation so much as a dramatic one.
I jumped off the railings and followed them at a discreet distance to where Violet’s mother’s huge silver Range Rover was parked, next to Paris’s double wide purple trailer.
Still, it wasn’t okay to laugh, and I couldn’t understand why I had – and so loudly, and at the worst possible moment! Violet would have felt embarrassed – humiliated even – being thrown like that when she had been trying to do something ambitious. Something far beyond anything I could ever even think of trying to do.
“I’m sorry, Violet,” I said, when she and Oliver finally stopped talking and she was alone, loosening the straps of Paris’s saddle. Her mother was on the phone, standing on the other side of the car.
She turned to face me. “You’re not so funny today, are you, Frankie? Too busy laughing at me?”
“I am really sorry. Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine, it was just a tumble, that’s all. It’s to be expected, from this devil.” She gave Paris’s reins a little tug and he looked at her. His eyes were hooded, and he seemed to be sizing her up. Paris looked as though he was quite capable of making and carrying out his own plans, I thought, completely independently of Violet.
“Anyway, laugh all you like,” she shrugged. “It doesn’t affect me.”
And with
that she turned back to Paris and continued undoing his saddle. I stood there for a few more seconds before realising our conversation was over. Lesley and Ash were talking in low voices just a few yards away, but I didn’t feel like I could go over and join them now.
She’s fine, I told myself, as I wandered away. Falling off is to be expected if you’re a show jumper, I knew that from all those Sunday afternoons watching World of Show Jumping with Mum on the couch. It was me who wasn’t fine. Yes, my horse and I had performed perfectly, but I still wasn’t happy. Something felt off. And not just because I laughed at someone who had just had an accident.
Dusk fell as I waited for Mum on a wooden picnic table under the trees, listening to the birds getting ready for bed, and watching the changing light. It really was very beautiful. I didn’t speak to any of the other girls – they had all parked their trailers halfway around the other side of the arena – but I liked watching them, and listening to the sound of their voices as they brought their horses water and nets of hay. I had thought it would be me having those conversations, and being one of the group, with Zen at my side to work with and fuss over.
But now I wasn’t so sure.
“How did it go?” asked Dad as soon as I got home.
He was waiting for me just inside the front door and popped out as soon as I’d opened it. I didn’t get a surprise, or yelp, any more, the way I used to. He always did this when Mum dropped me off, so he wouldn’t have to risk talking to her in person. Mum always waited a few moments out the front before driving off, just in case Dad might want to talk, but so far he just watched through the window and didn’t come out of hiding until she’d gone.
“Did you and Zen make the grade?” he asked, following me into my bedroom, where I dumped my bag and took off my boots. “Are they going to let you compete with them in the show?”
“I guess,” I said, walking back into the living room and flopping onto the couch in front of the TV. A can of Diet Coke and a box of potato chips sat on the coffee table.
“So how was it?”
“It was fine,” I said, helping myself to some chips. “It went great, actually. Zen was amazing.”
“You don’t sound like it went great.”
“It’s just …” I stopped myself. I didn’t want to complain in front of Dad. He was having a hard enough time with everything as it was. “It wasn’t how I thought it would be.”
“What is it, sweetie?” asked Dad, and he looked at me so warmly that I forgot about not wanting to add to his problems and told him what was on my mind.
“We were practising for the show the whole time, so we just went around and around in a circle for an hour and a half, doing the same thing.”
“Which is what you have to do if you want to be a champion,” said Dad, nodding.
“But I don’t want to be a champion. We can’t all be champions, can we?”
“No, I guess not. That’s a good point. My smart girl,” said Dad.
Honestly! I could say anything and my dad would think I was a genius. “I just want to make friends and have fun,” I said.
He nodded sympathetically.
“And I don’t think Zen enjoyed it, either. I made him wear a bridle, and even though he tried really hard and did really well, I think he got bored. He just wasn’t as lively as usual. And …” I swallowed.
“Tell me.”
“I was mean.”
“Pardon? You have to speak up, sweetie, I can’t hear you over the TV,” he said, picking up the remote.
“I was mean!” I shouted, just as he turned off the TV. My voice echoed around the room.
Dad looked shocked. “Frankie, you could never be mean. You are the sweetest, best-est, most …”
“No. You don’t know what I can be like. I was,” I insisted. “I laughed at this girl, Violet, and the only reason I can think of is because I was being competitive, and I was pleased to see her fall off.”
“Well, I guess if she’s your competition,” said Dad, trying to make excuses for me as always. But today I wouldn’t let him.
“Even if she was my competition, that’s mean.”
“A bit mean, yes, but understandable. People get carried away sometimes …”
“But that’s the thing!” I interrupted. “She’s not my competition. We’re not competing for anything. I mean, sure, maybe she’s been a bit mean to me,” – a lot mean, I reminded myself, “– but I don’t want to be like that.”
I’m not like that, I told myself. I’ve always thought of myself as a good kid. I always want to be kind. I don’t want to be the kind of person who laughs at someone, for whatever reason.
“I don’t want to be like that,” I repeated, sure now at least of one thing.
Dad nodded, and to my relief he didn’t say any more. He just sat back on the sofa, drumming his fingers on his chin.
“I do know you, actually, Frankie,” he said finally, “and I know that if you’re acting in ways you don’t like, and doing things you don’t want to do, then that isn’t the right place for you.”
“Which means I don’t want to be in pony club,” I sighed.
He nodded again, but this time I saw a smile playing around the edge of his mouth.
“Why is this good news? I thought you would be disappointed in me.”
He shrugged. “It’s not good news, and of course I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but I haven’t seen much of you lately, since you got so involved with Zen.”
“That’s because you never come to see me ride,” I cried. “Where were you today? I thought you were going to come and watch this time.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I meant to, but I knew your mother would be there.”
“I told you she wouldn’t be there until the end. You could have left early.”
“But I knew she’d be coming, and so that would have worried me the whole time … I’m sorry, Frankie, I really am. It’s hard for a young girl like you to understand.”
I thought of seeing Violet at school on Monday and how I was already dreading it. It was completely different, of course, and ridiculously tiny in comparison, but in some small way, maybe I could understand.
“If you’re not going to do pony club any more, maybe we could look at some other options for your spare time,” Dad was saying. “We could try surfing together, and there’s a running group in town. We could even enter a few races as a father–daughter team.”
“But what about Zen?” If I was in running group and surfing, I wouldn’t be spending time with him in his paddock. I’d miss him.
“If you’re not going to be in pony club, sweetie, maybe we could think about giving Zen away. To someone Pam approved of, of course.”
“Giving Zen away?” I sat bolt upright and looked at him in horror. “Why would we give him away? That would be like … thinking about giving you away!”
“That might not be such a bad idea either,” said Dad, winking at me.
“I’m not giving you away, and I’m not giving Zen away,” I said, refusing to acknowledge the joke. I sat back on the couch, folded my arms across my chest and stared at the TV.
“I’m sorry,” said Dad after a few moments. “I thought when you said you didn’t want to be in pony club you meant you didn’t want to do horseriding any more.”
“I do. Just not like that, not in that way.”
“In what way, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, if you have any ideas then tell me, okay?”
I was about to ask if he could help me pay for Zen to stay at Pocket of Dreams for a bit longer, and help me work out some new ways to make friends, but then he said the thing that makes me go quiet, every time.
“You know I would do anything for you.”
“I know.” That’s what made it so hard to ask. He was having a hard enough time as it was, and I didn’t want to ask Mum to do any more than she already was. I had to sort this out on my own.
“More than anything, I want you to
be happy,” Dad said, crumpling up his Diet Coke can and throwing it in the bin.
That’s what Mum kept saying, too. It was a lot of pressure for a girl to be carrying around.
Fifteen
“I don’t want to be in pony club,” I said to Shannon the next day. “And that’s okay,” I added quickly as she frowned in concern. “Really! It went well with Zen. It couldn’t have gone better. But I’ve realised it doesn’t really suit me. I would much rather keep learning about the language of horse here, at Pocket of Dreams, with you.”
“Well that’s great news, Frankie, because I love teaching you.”
“Except we can’t afford to keep paying you,” I continued in a big rush, barrelling on before I got too scared to say it. Pocket of Dreams was her business, after all, and so far it seemed as if her only regular customer was me. “I mean, I haven’t even asked my mum and dad because I know it’s too much, but Kai’s applying for a job stacking shelves at the supermarket in town, and he said I can too. If you can wait for me a little while I’ll save every cent and put aside every dollar, I promise.”
“Getting a job is a great idea. Looking after horses takes a lot of time and money.”
“It’s intense.” I’d seen how hard Shannon was working and thought about how tired she must be. “I mean, I have been amazed at how much work is actually involved.”
“Absolutely,” said Shannon. “There’s watering, and feeding and rugging, not to mention administering any treatments or special feeding. At the same time, it’s so important to learn these things if you are going to become a true horse girl.”
We were talking about me, I realised. I mean, I’d just been saying to her the other day how much I wanted to become a true horse girl. But I’m a city girl, I thought. I might have been learning how to collect eggs and do a bit of weaving at Viv’s, but I didn’t really know anything about being a country girl.
Dream Riders Page 6
