Dream Riders

by Jesse Blackadder

  “I feel like he’s saying no all the time. What if this all goes to pieces when we’re actually doing our demonstration?” I asked.

  “This is training you for those moments in life that don’t go the way you expect them to. Instead of falling apart, you’re going to be able to get back on your feet.”

  The next day, something changed. Zen and I did The Draw five times in a row, each time perfectly. I felt stunned, and proud, exhilarated and full of wonder.

  “Well done. These are the results of hard work and lots of practise,” said Shannon. “It takes strong willpower, resilience and determination to do this, Frankie, but that’s what you need to make a success of your riding. And your life.”

  Twenty-seven

  After that the days flew by. Kai put the flyers up all around town, and Dad came regularly to hang out with his new best friend Gillie – oh, and spend some time with his daughter – at Pocket of Dreams, always leaving before Mum came to get me, but otherwise seeming more and more like his old self.

  At school I forced myself to walk up to kids I didn’t know and talk to them, bringing the conversation around to the show and Pocket of Dreams whenever possible. It turns out a lot of people – more people than I had ever imagined – are completely uninterested in horses. I had some good conversations, though. I met a girl called Shen at basketball who’d just moved here from interstate, and a boy called Jonah in line at the canteen, whose mum worked with Dad at the university. I met Arlo, who came up and gave me a hug when I was sticking up a flyer outside the Learning Support Unit. His carer, Fiona, said she might be interested in boarding her horse at Pocket of Dreams. “But I’ll wait for show day before I sign up,” said Fiona. “I may as well wait and see.”

  Great. Even more pressure, I thought. “What about you, Arlo?” I asked him. He had the most beautiful face, like an angel, with a halo of blonde hair. “Would you like to ride?”

  “Yes,” he said, and gravely accepted my flyer.

  It was easy to imagine Arlo being a part of the Dream Riders, even though I still didn’t have a very clear idea of what we were actually going to do.

  “Actually, Arlo’s sister is already a very good rider,” said Fiona. “She’s Violet D’Angelo. Do you know her? She trains with …”

  “Oliver Farthing,” I said, sighing. “I know.” Was there anywhere I could turn where Violet wouldn’t show up? I wondered, stomping away.

  The only thing still worrying me – apart from the fact that I was about to appear alone in front of a crowd, of course – was Shannon. Three days before show day I found her sitting on a bucket in the tack shed, staring at a photo of Paris.

  “Are you thinking about him?” I asked quietly. Even though I’d knocked on the door, she jumped.

  “All the time,” said Shannon. “And more and more.”

  There was nothing for it, I realised, resigned now to what the universe kept telling me. I was going to have to talk to Violet. Again.

  Twenty-eight

  The next day I went to school feeling nervous, waiting for my chance to talk to Violet – until Ash told me just after lunch that she wasn’t at school. Tomorrow was Saturday, and the day after that was the show. I had no choice but to go back to pony club the next morning, where they were making their final preparations.

  It felt odd to be back here, not dressed for pony club and not with Zen. Violet was easy to spot – she and Paris were working alone with Oliver in the middle of the arena. They both looked immaculate, of course, but were obviously still struggling with each other. Paris was slow and unresponsive to Violet, and she sat tense and uneasy in the saddle.

  “What are you doing here?” she said haughtily when I finally gathered my courage and approached her during a break. I was wearing a clean white T-shirt with clean blue jeans, and my hair was looking really good for once – hanging straight around the back and flicking perfectly at the front. I was standing on the ground looking up at her, and she, as always, was looking down at me.

  “Ash said you weren’t coming back to pony club.”

  “I’m not. I’ve come here to talk to you.”

  “To me?” She looked around, as if I might be playing a trick on her. “Why?”

  “I wondered if you would ever consider coming back to Pocket of Dreams, with Paris, so Shannon could work with you both–”

  “After what happened last time? Not a chance!” said Violet, cutting me off.

  “Not even for the sake of your horse?”

  “No. I wouldn’t. Not after the way she spoke to me.”

  “She was only trying to keep you safe.”

  “I don’t care. Besides, Oliver’s an Olympic rider. If he can’t work out what to do about the two of us, then no one can.”

  “What if he can’t, though?” I asked softly.

  “Then we’ll sell him to the highest bidder, and I doubt that’s going to be Shannon.”

  I stayed to watch as Violet and Paris tried to go over their jumps again. It was the same course as the one she’d been trying to go around the last time I was at pony club, but this time Paris was even more badly behaved, refusing jump after jump, and Violet was even more frustrated and headstrong, urging Paris forwards with a short rein and not listening to anything Oliver said.

  “This is getting ridiculous. Why doesn’t anyone say something?” I heard one of the nearby mothers ask.

  “Oliver can’t make her listen,” another one said. “No one can.”

  “It’s a shame,” said the first mother. “She used to be such a lovely rider.”

  “And he used to be such a lovely horse.”

  I couldn’t stand it any more. I turned and walked away, determined I would never come back to pony club. I had tried my hardest, I thought. There was nothing more I could do.

  Twenty-nine

  The next morning I woke up before the alarm and went straight to my window. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. Perfect weather for the show!

  I went around early to Pocket of Dreams to give Zen a warm-up and see how he was feeling. He came trotting over the moment I appeared in the paddock, his ears pricked and his eyes eager, and I remembered the first morning I’d come here after leaving him with Shannon, when he’d roundly ignored me.

  “Hey, Zen,” I said quietly, reaching up to scratch him in his favourite spot between his ears. I’d given him an all-over beauty treatment yesterday, which we both enjoyed: shampooing his coat and mane and massaging his neck and withers, which tended to get stiff sometimes. I trimmed his fetlock and carefully wiped the insides of his ears, the corners of his eyes and the curves of his nostrils to make sure he looked as smart and handsome as possible.

  “You are one beautiful pony,” I told him as I took off his rug, and I swear he stood up a little straighter, while pretending to be distracted by a nearby bird. Then I pressed my face against his neck and closed my eyes. “Please, universe,” I whispered. “Please let everything go well today.”

  I tied on Zen’s halter and led him into the yard. We weren’t going to rehearse any more – I didn’t want to bore him, and if we made a mistake it would only make me more nervous – and so I just took him quickly through his groundwork, checking how he was feeling in his body, and making sure he was balanced in his gait. After that, it was simply a matter of making sure I had a bucket for water and a net of hay to give him later, and then I led him into his trailer. Maybe he was picking up on my energy, or maybe it was the prospect of going on a trip, but Zen seemed excited, too, responding faster than usual to my requests and with a real spring in his step.

  “I just love watching the way the two of you interact,” said Mum when I got into the car. “I wish I’d known what you’re learning about horses when I was your age. The two of you seem so calm and connected, all the time.”

  “Let’s hope that continues at the show,” I said as I did up my seatbelt. “Shannon said it could go either way today.”

  “He’s been to a lot of shows before, though,”
Mum argued. “Don’t forget, Pam said he’s bombproof.”

  “Don’t say that!” I exclaimed.

  “Sorry,” said Mum, glancing at me, and I realised I’d snapped at her. I was obviously nervous too.

  “Sorry,” I said. “But Shannon says a bombproof horse can be a desensitised horse, and that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to undo in Zen for these past six weeks. He’s sensitive now, and responsive to his feelings. That’s a great thing overall, but he might have a reaction, and express it, being back at a show.”

  “Should I be worried about this?” asked Mum.

  “No. The worst that will happen is that Zen won’t want to do it, and we’ll have five minutes of him ignoring me and eating grass in time to the music, while I stand there like an idiot in front of the whole show.”

  “Oh well then, no worries,” she said, ruffling my hair.

  But when we pulled into the parking lot she turned to me.

  “Why not use a lead rope with him, darling? That way even if Zen does have a negative reaction, he’ll still be able to complete the performance. I mean, why not? You’ve worked so hard on your routine and it’s only for five minutes. It won’t hurt him.”

  “I could,” I said. I had thought a lot about this. “But the point of what we’re doing today is to show that a horse and a human can want to be together, and that no one has to make anyone do anything. I only want him to do this routine if he actually wants to. If he doesn’t want to, then I’d prefer he just walked off. Shannon says the biggest positive to working a horse ‘at liberty’ is that it reveals all our flaws. So my relationship with Zen is going to be on display. And if he’s not into it, then that’s what people will see.”

  “Really?” said Mum, gazing at me intently. “This isn’t just what you think Shannon wants you to do?”

  “Really,” I said. “I’d like it if we looked perfect. Of course I would. But more than anything, I want it to be real.”

  I’d thought we were running early, but when I climbed out of the car I realised the show was already in full swing. Children were squealing on the rides and people were streaming in and out of the low buildings where the displays of cakes and knitting and sewing were on show. The main action, though, was in the big arena, where the horse competitions were being held. Mum picked up a program and turned to this morning’s page. Frankie Jameson, it said, between two of the show-jumping events. I’d be performing in the smaller yard while they set up the arena for the jumps. An at liberty display of natural horsemanship. 10 am. That was in just one hour.

  “Now, where’s your father?” said Mum, waving to Viv, who had just arrived with Kai and Eloise.

  “I need to check on Zen,” I told her. “You go look for him.”

  Zen seemed calm and happy, I thought, as I brought him out of his trailer. I was planning to get into my outfit – dark brown jodhpurs and a fresh white shirt – just before we went on, otherwise I was sure I’d find a way to get dirty. I had some rainbow-coloured ribbons I was going to weave into Zen’s mane, and a broad band of pink felt to wrap around the top of his tail. I knew he didn’t mind it because I’d tried it out on him last week. I was going to wear a matching rainbow bandanna around my waist, and another pink ribbon in my hair.

  Doing this would be a chance to be together and calm him, I’d decided, while he adjusted to this new environment. First experiences make a big impression on animals like horses, Shannon had said, and I was doing everything I could to make sure our first ever demonstration was a positive experience. It was also a way to calm myself, I realised, looking around at the crowd. I hadn’t expected there to be so many people! I had just pulled Zen’s mane into bunches, ready to thread the ribbons through them, when Mum came back, frowning. “Your father’s not here.”

  He hadn’t responded to my texts this morning, either, I realised. I took out my phone and saw that there was a new text from him.

  I can’t face it today, Frankie. I’m so sorry. Thinking of you. Let me know asap how it goes. Love, Dad.

  I felt weak all of a sudden.

  “Frankie! What is it?” Mum was at my side.

  “I’m just … It’s nothing.”

  “It’s your father, isn’t it? Is that a text from him? Why isn’t he here?”

  I didn’t think Dad would want me to say, so I just stared at the ground. But Mum guessed, anyway.

  “It’s because of me, isn’t it?” she said. She got out her phone and began dialling. “He can’t avoid me forever. This is ridiculous!”

  “Mum, no!” I said, getting to my feet. “That won’t work. Will you give me a lift to Dad’s house, please?” I looked at my watch. We only had fifty minutes. I waved Kai over and asked him if he could look after Zen while we were away. He must have realised something was up, because he just said yes, and didn’t ask me any questions.

  “But what about your demonstration?” protested Mum, once Kai had walked off with Zen around the side of the trailer.

  “I’ll handle it,” I said firmly.

  But how? I asked myself as Mum pulled up in front of the house. I walked up the front stairs. How do you make someone do something they’re scared of? Even if you know that at some point they’re going to have to do it?

  “Dad?” I called out as I let myself into the house. It had the echoey feeling of an empty house. “Dad?” I called out, looking into his bedroom. The bed was made. I suddenly had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. He wouldn’t have gone out to do something else, would he? Like meet a friend, or finally shop for new furniture. Not today?

  “Dad!” I yelled, opening the door into the back garden. And there he sat, on a bench at the far end, clutching a can of Diet Coke and staring out into the rainforest.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled as I walked over to him. “How could you not come to my show?”

  He dropped his head. “I’m sorry, Frankie. I want to come. You know I do. It’s just still so hard with your mum.”

  I sat down next to him.

  “Why aren’t you there, though?” He checked his watch. “You’re on in half an hour.”

  “I don’t want to do it without you.”

  He ran his hand over his face, pulling at his skin and rubbing his eyes. His face looked rumpled, I thought, as though he hadn’t had much sleep. “Frankie, you shouldn’t have to choose.”

  “Then don’t make me.”

  As I sat there, sitting beside him as he stared out into the rainforest, I thought of all the things he and Mum and I used to do together before we moved up here. On rainy Sunday afternoons we’d go to the movies, seeing whatever kids’ movie was on at the right time, no matter what it was. We saw some really, really bad movies that way. On Saturday mornings they’d come to Little Athletics with me, and when I got tired of that, they came with me to choir. When I got tired of that, the three of us went indoor rock climbing, and one weekend we even drove up to the mountains to abseil.

  Now that I thought about all the different activities I’d been enthusiastic about and then dropped, it made sense that he’d been hoping I might get bored with this whole horse riding thing and take up something different, something that he and I could do alone. It must have been like a nightmare for him to realise that wasn’t going to happen this time; that I had finally found something that made me happy, something that Mum would always be involved in, and that I needed him to be there with me too.

  I was clearing my throat, preparing to give him an inspirational lecture, when he stood up and held out his hands.

  “You’re right, Frankie. Let’s go.”

  “Really?” I’d been about to explain to him that you had to be prepared for those times in life which don’t go the way you expect them to, and that instead of falling apart you had to get back on your feet, the way Zen had taught me. Instead, I had to run to catch up with him as he strode across the yard.

  “You know Mum’s out there waiting for me, right?” I called when he got to the front door. He nodded and kept w
alking.

  Mum was leaning against the car. Her eyes widened when she saw Dad.

  “Hello, Ray.”

  “Hello, Kate,” he said, walking straight up to her. “You look good.”

  “You look …terrible,” said Mum, shaking her head and smiling at him.

  “I’ll be all right,” he said. “Can I get a lift with you two to the showground?”

  “Sure, but we need to leave now if we’re going to make it on time.”

  “I’m ready,” said Dad, opening the front passenger door and hopping in.

  “Oh,” I said, realising this meant I would be sitting in the back, like I used to.

  “Everything all right, Frankie?” asked Mum, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror.

  I grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

  “Viv will be at the show, won’t she?” said Dad as Mum put the car into gear.

  “And Eloise, her daughter,” said Mum, pausing. The engine was on, but we weren’t going anywhere.

  Dad nodded, and swallowed. I saw him flexing his hands nervously on his lap. I saw Mum glance at them and look away, pretending not to have noticed.

  “Well then,” said Dad. “Let’s get this daughter of ours to the show.”

  Mum reached out and squeezed him on the shoulder. “Let’s do it.”

  We arrived with just five minutes to spare. The grounds were even more crowded now, and it took us a while to find a parking space. As we made our way through the crowds, wafts of applause and the sound of the announcer talking over the PA system mingled with the happy chatter of the crowds and the smells of hot chips and cinnamon donuts. Shannon, Kai, Viv and Eloise were waiting for us next to Zen’s float.

  “Wait! What about your outfit, Frankie?” Eloise wailed as I began leading Zen to the small arena.

  I looked down. I was still wearing my jeans, my red-and-white striped T-shirt and the old ratty old work boots I’d climbed into that morning. Zen wasn’t wearing the ribbons I’d bought for him. I shrugged.