The Perfect Distance

by Kim Ablon Whitney

  “Hardly.”

  “It’ll get you through,” Colby added.

  “How about you?” I asked him, trying to reform and be polite. I had been such a jerk earlier about the stupid manure stain, of all things. I guess they really were the bane of my existence, in more ways than one.

  “He was so good,” Katie answered for him.

  “I was okay,” he said.

  “No, you weren’t. You were really good.”

  I’d ridden in a couple of lessons with Colby that week and he was good. He had a natural style and feel—something you couldn’t teach—riders either had it like Colby or didn’t like Katie. Plus, no offense to Colby, but guys always got penis points, especially with male judges—gay or straight—and David Bryant was one of the two judges today.

  “How’ve the rounds been in general?” I asked.

  “Pretty good,” Katie said. “I think Kelsey’s trip is still holding up. Katrina van Amsterdam was good. Oh, Anna Silver was a disaster—she did three in the two stride.”

  Katie and I knew most of the riders, since they were from the region we showed in all year. Even if we didn’t know them to say hello or good luck to, we knew with whom they rode, where they were from, how they’d done at the finals last year, and, most important, whether we thought we could beat them.

  Katie turned to where her father sat behind us keeping score on a legal pad. “Dad, who else was good?”

  He scanned his list. “Kim Greene, Alison Morris.”

  We watched a few other riders go, none great, and then Colby stood up to get something to eat. “Want anything?” he asked.

  “I’d love a coffee with lots of milk and sugar,” Katie said, digging into her pocket and extracting a twenty. Her father caught her eye and she added, “Skim milk and Splenda if they have it.”

  “Francie?” Colby asked.

  “I can’t eat anything when I’m riding,” I said.

  “Last time I checked, you’re not riding right now,” he quipped.

  I rolled my eyes. “I still can’t eat.”

  “You get that nervous?”

  “Oh my God, she gets totally nervous,” Katie said.

  “You’re one to talk, Miss Hyperventilation,” I said. When Katie got really worked up, she started breathing so fast she came close to making herself pass out.

  “Why do you get so nervous?” Colby asked.

  “I just don’t want to mess up,” I said.

  “Now there’s a positive attitude if I’ve ever heard one,” Colby said in the sarcastic tone I’d noticed he was very good at. “If you’re so worried about messing up, you probably will. Ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

  “Thanks for the Psych 101,” I said.

  When Colby was halfway down the aisle and out of earshot, Katie leaned close so her father couldn’t hear. “So I’ve decided I totally have a thing for him.”

  “For Colby? He’s a total pain in the ass with all his questions and snide comments.” I didn’t really think he was a pain in the ass. In fact, the more time I spent with him, the more I liked him. He was sort of like a new song—the first few times you heard it, you weren’t sure about it, but then pretty soon you wanted to put it on continuous replay. But I wasn’t about to admit any of these feelings to Katie.

  “I think his questions are cute, plus don’t you think he’s totally hot?” she said. “He could make me forget all about Jump Crew Jackass.”

  Jump Crew Jackass was Mike, who ran the in gate at smaller shows and worked the jump crew at bigger shows. He and Katie had dated all last summer until Mr. Whitt paid him to break up with her. Apparently a college dropout who was setting jumps wasn’t his idea of the perfect boyfriend for his daughter. To Mike it wasn’t a big deal, since he was a guy in a sea full of girls, but it had pretty much devastated Katie. She still hadn’t quite gotten over the fact that he would choose a few hundred bucks over her.

  “Do you think I have a chance with Colby?” Katie asked. “I mean, have you heard him talk about having a girlfriend back home or anything?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Good,” Katie said.

  Great—it was definite—Katie liked Colby, too. How could I ever compete with her? For one thing, she was much more comfortable and experienced around guys than I was. For another, she wasn’t a groom.

  After the thirtieth rider, the judges broke to announce the standby list and the grounds crew dragged the ring. Colby had returned with two coffees, a bagel, and a hot chocolate for me that I hadn’t asked for. “I wasn’t sure if drinking was off-limits, too,” he said as he handed it to me. It seemed like he was still trying to make up for earlier that morning, but I was pretty sure I was the one who needed to make amends.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I spotted Rob at the in gate with his order-of-go sheet out. Sometimes when I looked at him, I still had to remind myself that I rode with him. That I was one of the juniors at West Hills. He passed the list to Susie, who stood poised with a pen. In the stands around us, parents took out pens, too, including Tara’s father a few rows back. He was bald and had a big red nose. I’d heard someone say it was red because he drank too much. He delivered appliances for a living. Katie’s father won at everything and so wanted his daughter to win, too. I had the feeling that with Mr. Barnes, it was the fact that he’d never won at anything that made him so hungry for Tara to win. Tara’s mother—a large, squat woman, who made me wonder where Tara’s long legs came from and gave credit to Katie’s bulimia theory—sat next to him, arms crossed. Before Tara, she had been a no-name trainer in the Midwest, whom most of the wealthy parents and other trainers wouldn’t have looked twice at. But now, because of Tara, everyone knew her and was super nice to her.

  “And after thirty riders have gone, we have a preliminary standby list for the flat phase,” the announcer called.

  I held my breath. My stomach churned like I was about to ride all over again. Only now it was different because there was nothing I could do anymore—my fate was already decided. It was kind of like waiting for a test to be passed back at school—not that I wanted to think much about tests.

  Quiet blanketed the stadium as all the riders, trainers, and parents waited breathlessly. The announcer ran down the numbers of the riders in a bland tone devoid of any emotion. I knew my number and I knew Tara’s, which was the first called. I closed my eyes. After Tara’s number, there was one, two, three numbers; I counted each number, four, five. I opened my eyes. I was sixth. There were thirty-three more riders left to go and a few would slide in front of me, if not in front of Tara. Then the judges would call back about forty for the flat phase. Eventually they’d pin ten, who would be guaranteed spots to go on to the Maclay Finals. The eleventh and twelfth place finishers would also get to go to Kentucky. They would probably also choose four to test for the top ribbons. I only had six spots leeway, which wasn’t much.

  “Francie, you’re sixth,” Katie said.

  “I know.”

  “Were you in there?” she asked Colby, as if she hadn’t memorized his number, too.

  “Eighth.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “Who’s on top?” Colby asked.

  At exactly the same time, Katie and I answered, “Tara.”

  “You ready, Katie?” Rob asked as I quickly wiped off Katie’s Parlantis and Camillo slapped hoof oil on Stretch. The last rider had already left the ring; the judges were waiting on Katie. She’d been late coming to the in gate because she’d kept missing distances in the schooling area. Now she looked sickly pale and like she might start hyperventilating.

  Katie didn’t acknowledge Rob but just pressed Stretch forward.

  “Good luck,” I called out, but I wasn’t sure if she even heard me.

  Mr. Whitt’s voice followed: “Come on, Kate!” He always watched from the in gate, not the stands like most parents.

  Katie was halfway through her course and doing fine when Colby joined me leaning over th
e railing to the ring. “How’s she doing?”

  “So far, so good,” I said, holding up my crossed fingers.

  Colby nodded to where Mr. Whitt was moving his weight from one leg to the other. “He’s a little intense, huh?”

  “A little?” I said.

  “I guess I shouldn’t talk. You haven’t met my dad yet.”

  “He couldn’t come this weekend?”

  “Nope. Some boob conference. He’ll be flying in for the Talent Search, though, you can count on that.”

  Five more good fences and Katie would probably make it.

  Five more fences and Mr. Whitt wouldn’t freak out at her. I saw Camillo watching, too. He was no doubt praying just as hard as I was that Katie would keep it together, for her sake but also because he took care of Stretch and so he took pride in Stretch doing well. Katie found a steady distance to the next jump, which Stretch made look good, but as if she were trying to make up for it, she started speeding up, pushing Stretch too fast.

  “Slow down!” Rob called out to her.

  At the next jump Katie caught a flyer. Some horses would have stopped, sending Katie straight over their head and onto the ground, or added a stride and chipped in, unwilling to take off from so far away, like Tobey would have. But, of course, Stretch stretched. Still, it looked awkward.

  “Goddamn it!” Rob said, but I knew he wasn’t that upset for Katie, more because of the hell he would probably catch from her father.

  Katie pulled herself together for the last few jumps, but the damage was already done. Rob still clapped loudly, trying to sway the judges into somehow overlooking that one jump. When Katie came out of the ring, her eyes were locked on Stretch’s neck. She knew what was coming.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to make a move?” Rob asked. “Let the jump come to you.”

  “I thought I was under the pace,” Katie said.

  Rob shook his head. “Don’t think out there.” He pointed to Stretch. “Let him do the thinking.”

  Rob turned away and Katie moved Stretch out of the in gate. Camillo was waiting for her with a sugar cube for Stretch.

  Gwenn had been schooling with Susie while Katie was on course and now she was waiting on deck. I moved away to help Dad shine her boots and paint Finch’s hooves. I was just grabbing the can of hoof oil when I heard Mr. Whitt bark, “Don’t feed him that! No wonder he wants to bolt by the end of the course. He knows he’s going to get fed when he comes out. This is unbelievable!”

  I turned to see Camillo mumbling an apology, his eyes set on the ground. “Get Gwenn’s boots,” Dad said to me. He jogged over to where Mr. Whitt was staring at Camillo.

  “He was just trying to reward the horse,” Dad said.

  “I don’t care what he was trying to do,” Mr. Whitt snapped. “He shouldn’t be doing it.”

  “Dad, it was my fault,” Katie tried. “Not Camillo’s.”

  “Mr. Whitt, it won’t happen again,” Dad promised.

  Sometimes I didn’t know how he did it. I was sure that more than anything, Dad wanted to tell Mr. Whitt he was out of line and on top of that a bad father who was cruel to his daughter. But he wouldn’t say any such thing. He’d smooth things over and calm Mr. Whitt down in the same way that he’d smile politely and act like he didn’t care when without even so much as a thank-you, a rider handed him a horse that was still hot and blowing hard and that he’d have to spend an extra half hour cooling down.

  “It better not, or else I want someone more competent taking care of the horse,” Mr. Whitt said.

  “It won’t happen again,” Dad repeated. “Right, Camillo?”

  “Not ever,” Camillo managed in his shaky English. “I want to take care for him. To me this horse means so much.”

  This seemed to be enough for Mr. Whitt to leave Camillo alone, but he wasn’t done yet. He turned his disappointment toward Katie. “How could you do that?” he demanded as I shined Gwenn’s boots.

  “I thought I was behind the pace,” she explained again.

  “How could you be so stupid? You’ll never make it through with that round!” He shook his head and stalked away.

  As Gwenn entered the ring, I went up to Katie. “Hey,” I said gently.

  She turned, tears streaming down her face. “Asshole,” she choked out.

  Katie cheered up somewhat when she was called back fifteenth for the flat phase. If she rode well enough, the judges might move her up and she would make it through. Tara still held the lead. I stood eighth, Colby tenth. Gwenn was in the second flat group and had no prayer of making it.

  Rob cautioned us to be conservative. “It’s just walk, trot, and canter in both directions. Maybe a lengthening of stride, counter-canter, or halt depending on what the judges need to see to make a decision. This isn’t the time to go for brilliant at the lengthening of stride at the trot, break into the canter, and get tossed to the end of the pile.” He wagged a finger at us. “I know you don’t think it can happen. But let me tell you, it’s happened. Solid and correct. That’s the way.”

  We entered the ring and spread out along the rail. With the jumps removed, the ring looked much bigger. The judges didn’t ask anything complex, which meant they decided quickly. They lined us up and we stood for a few minutes that stretched out endlessly. Other horses stood statue still while Tobey bobbed his head and pawed the ground in impatience. I could tell he’d reached his limit and just wanted to go home. To keep him calm, I discreetly scratched his withers in front of the saddle until the announcer finally excused us and we shuttled out the in gate.

  “Tara, don’t go anywhere. Francie, Colby, you, too, just in case they test more than four,” Rob instructed. “Gwenn, Katie, you can head back to the barn.”

  I waited with Tara and Colby until the announcement came. They were testing only the top four. Tara was testing, still holding first place. Colby and I’d eked in at eighth and eleventh. Katie had moved up to thirteenth, one spot out—she wasn’t going to the Maclay Finals.

  “Tara, get ready,” Rob called.

  “I’m ready, Rob,” she answered.

  Rob looked at me, but probably just because I was next to Tara, so I blocked his line of vision. Still, even the little acknowledgment felt nice, like a small, warm ray of sunlight after a week of cold rain. “Francie, you made it by the skin of your teeth,” he said.

  “I know.”

  I took a deep breath and then exhaled, letting go of all my tension. I had made it. That was the most important thing. I was going to Kentucky.

  Susie walked over. I leaned down from Tobey to hug her. “Good job, kiddo,” she said.

  “Want to head back to the barn?” Colby asked me.

  “Sure,” I said.

  We walked side by side and didn’t speak for a few moments until Colby offered, “So we both made it.”

  “Yeah,” I said, surprised by my own lack of excitement.

  Suddenly making it didn’t seem like enough.

  “You don’t seem happy.”

  “I guess I just wish I was testing.” I knew it wasn’t right to feel disappointed in making it when Katie and Gwenn hadn’t, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be up there at the ring with Rob like Tara, getting ready to test.

  “You’re so hard on yourself,” Colby said.

  “How do you know?” I said. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  Even though he was probably right, I felt annoyed that he thought he could size me up so fast. He didn’t know the first thing about my life. Of course that was in part because I hadn’t told him. Part of me liked the feeling of being just like him, of being just a regular rider.

  “You’re right, I don’t. But it doesn’t seem like you want me to either.”

  “It’s not that—” I started to say. Why did everything always come out wrong when I was around him? “It’s just—”

  I was planning to finally come clean right then and explain about my being a groom, but he jumped in. “I’m sorry if you’re s
till upset about this morning. Why didn’t you just tell me you were a working student?”

  So now Colby thought I was a working student, which was still something entirely different from a groom. “I don’t know,” I said, still not managing to tell the truth.

  Colby sighed. “It seems like one of us is always apologizing to the other. Maybe we should just agree to have an on-going apology or something.”

  “Sounds good,” I offered.

  “So from here on out instead of saying hello when we see each other, we’ll just say I’m sorry, okay?”

  I smiled. “Okay.”

  “You mean, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry,” I said, laughing.

  At the barn I slid off Tobey. Colby dismounted from Ginger. Dad came to take Ginger from him, and Colby offered to bring her back to her stall.

  “I got it,” Dad said, and this time Colby didn’t argue.

  “I guess I’ll see you later,” he said to me.

  I untacked Tobey. After I gave him a handful of carrots, I took him to the wash stall to sponge him down with warm water. The whole area smelled like menthol from the liniment Dad was using on Ginger. Dad put a wet hand on the side of my head, pulled me close, and kissed my forehead. Then he passed me the bucket and sponge. “You made it,” he said.

  “Dad,” I moaned. “Gross.”

  “Oh, I know, a kiss from your father—gross!”

  “No, you got me all wet,” I said.

  As Dad squeegeed the excess water off Ginger with a sweat scraper, I started sponging Tobey’s neck. “How’s Katie?” I asked.

  Dad shook his head. “That man . . . I’d like to put him on a horse and see how he would do out there.”

  “I know, and what about Camillo?”

  “Don’t get me started,” Dad said.

  After I sponged Tobey off, I brought him back to his stall and undid the yarn from his braids with a seam ripper. I expected to see Katie at some point, but she wasn’t around, which meant her dad was probably tearing into her somewhere.

  The announcer’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker into the tent, reporting the final results of the class. I hardly listened, because I knew how it would go and I didn’t want to hear Tara’s name in first place. When I heard it in second place, I was sure that they’d made some kind of mistake and that a correction would follow. But it didn’t. Addison Bay had won. That would drive Rob crazy. I knew it wasn’t nice of me to root against someone in the barn, but I was so glad Tara hadn’t won.