City Secrets

by Jessica Burkhart

  Just like he said he would be, Paul was waiting in the car. He had the front windows rolled down and was doing a crossword puzzle. He looked up when he heard us approaching the car.

  Heather yanked open the car door and actually slid across the backseat. I knew better than to make a joke about her earlier comment about how she didn’t “slide.”

  Paul started the car and looked back at us. He saw Heather staring out the window, arms crossed.

  “Was your dad out?” Paul asked, his tone gentle.

  “Nope.”

  That was all Heather said.

  Paul watched her in the mirror for a second and seemed to realize that something had happened.

  “I’ll take you home,” he said.

  The ride back from Wall Street to Park Avenue was silent.

  13

  START THAT HOMEWORK YET?

  HEATHER HAD REGAINED HER COMPOSURE by the time we walked through the door of her apartment. She looked as if nothing had happened a mere half hour ago. But I knew she couldn’t be over it so fast. Heather had just put up the I-don’t-care-and-I’m-fine wall.

  Without being asked, I followed her into her room. I sat cross-legged on her bed and watched as she flicked on the TV and flipped through channels.

  “Exploring the city was really fun,” I said, unsure how she’d respond. “Thanks for showing me around.”

  Heather nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. Cool.”

  She stopped on one of my favorite channels, and it was a rerun of City Girls—a show Paige and I had bonded over during my first day at Canterwood.

  Heather sat in one of her chairs and drew up her legs as she watched the show. We watched the show for about fifteen minutes before I decided I had to distract her with something.

  “I saw on the cover of US Weekly that Mira is dating Josh now,” I said. Mira was one of the City Girls, who hadn’t really had a boyfriend before.

  Heather looked at me. “I saw that too. The article said she’d been crushing on him forever and she decided not to wait. She just went for it and asked him out.”

  “Hmm . . .” I said, smiling. “Sounds like she made the right choice—just going for it.”

  “Definitely,” Heather said. “If she had a feeling that he liked her, why wait for him to ask her?”

  “Does this sound like anyone we know . . . ?” I tilted my head suggestively.

  Heather stared at me. “No . . . what are you talking about?”

  I shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s this girl I know who has a crush on a guy. She thinks he likes her too, but he hasn’t made a move yet. She talked to him at the Homecoming dance, but didn’t pull a Mira.”

  Heather’s mouth fell open in a clichéd teen-movie way. “Omigod! Are you kidding me?”

  “No!” I said. “You should ask Troy out! Then you won’t have to wonder if he likes you or not. You’ll ask and he’ll say yes or no, but I know he’ll so say yes.”

  Heather shook her head, her blond hair flying. “No way! I’m not asking him out. I like him, but if he wants to go, he has to ask me. Otherwise, forget it.”

  My eyes landed on Heather’s laptop. It was in sleep mode, the orange light blinking.

  “You could e-mail him and say hi. See how break’s going . . .” I said. “Or you could text him.”

  “And say what?” Heather unfolded her legs and sat up straighter. The glazed-over look was gone from her face. She was definitely distracted from the Father Fail that had occurred earlier.

  “Just ‘hi.’ Ask him what he’s doing. If he’s bored at home, or if he’s glad to be away from campus. Something casual.”

  Heather looked at her BlackBerry on her desk. She tucked her hair behind her ear, still looking at the phone.

  “It’d be lame if I just texted him out of nowhere,” Heather said. “I need a reason.”

  I paused, thinking. “Okay. Um . . . are you guys in any classes together?”

  Heather smiled. “English.”

  “Did your teacher assign homework over the break?” I asked.

  “Yeah, we have to read fifty pages of The Outsiders and write a five-page paper on it.”

  “Did you start yet?” I asked. “I haven’t even looked at my homework.”

  “Please,” Heather said. “Do you think I’ve done any homework yet?”

  “That’s your question. Tell him you haven’t started yet and ask if he has. If he has, then you can ask him if the homework’s hard or something. If he hasn’t, then you guys can chat about not doing homework.”

  Heather nodded, thinking. “You know, I’m shocked right now, Silver.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you had a good idea for once. I’m shocked. You might be smarter than you look.”

  “Thanks,” I grumbled. “I think you’ve said that before. Are you going to text him or e-mail him?”

  I jumped off the bed and walked over to Heather’s laptop, my hand ready to open it.

  “Fiiine!” Heather said. “I’ll text him. It’s not like I’m afraid to or anything. Whatever. It’s just Troy.”

  I left her laptop and picked her up phone, handing it to her. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a while before she finally started typing. I sat across from her in the other chair, just waiting to see what she’d write. And I crossed my fingers that Troy would text her back.

  “Here, this is what I’m sending?” Heather said. Her statement sounded more like a question. I looked at the screen that she held up to me.

  Hey Troy—R u having a good break? Did u start English hmwk yet? I totally didn’t—it’s so lame. —H

  “Perfect,” I said. “That’s supercasual and you’re asking him questions instead of just saying hi and telling him all about your break. He’s totally going to write you back.”

  Heather didn’t look convinced. “You think?”

  “Definitely. Send it.”

  Heather stared back at the phone, the send key option highlighted. “You do it.”

  She shoved the phone toward me. I stopped myself from laughing. Tough-girl Heather Fox, who acted as if she owned every inch of Canterwood, was insecure about something.

  B-O-Y-S.

  “No way,” I said. “You wrote it. It’s for Troy. You send it.”

  Heather held the phone in the air for a few more seconds before taking it back in front of her. She took a breath and pressed the button.

  “There,” she said. “Omigod, I can’t take it back now. I texted Troy.”

  Heather tossed the BlackBerry onto her bed as if she couldn’t stand holding it for another second.

  We looked at each other, then burst into giggles.

  “You texted Troy!” I said.

  Heather kicked at my chair. “Shut up!” But she couldn’t stop laughing. “He probably won’t even—”

  A chime from her bed cut her off. A red light started blinking on her phone and we both stared at each other.

  “It’s got to be, like, Julia or Alison,” Heather said, shaking her head. “There’s no way he’d write me back that fast.”

  “Go check it! It’s so Troy.” I motioned for her to get up and gestured toward the phone with a sweep of my arm.

  Almost as if she was unsteady on her feet, Heather got out of her chair and picked up the phone off her bed. She pushed a couple of buttons and read. Her face gave away nothing.

  “Well?!” I asked. “Say something! Who is it?”

  Heather walked over, still with a poker face, and sat down. She held the phone up and grinned.

  “It’s Troy!” she said.

  “Omigod! Told you!” I leaned forward and read his message.

  Hey H! Having an awesome break. U? And no way did I start hmrk. It’s BREAK. But when we start, if we get stuck or something, we could txt each other or IM. —Troy

  Heather and I both started laughing again at the same time and she clutched her phone. I smiled secretly to myself, glad to have distracted Heather with something and curious to s
ee what would happen with Troy.

  14

  ALL THE GLORY

  IT WAS EARLY THE NEXT MORNING WHEN PAUL dropped us off at Chesterfield. Heather and I had come prepared for a long day of practicing. We’d talked over breakfast about the exercises we wanted to do, and how, since it was the middle of the week, we needed a day of serious practice.

  Heather checked with Pam to make sure our horses were available, and they were. I was glad to ride Limitless again—he was a great horse, and this way I could focus on my riding instead of getting used to a new horse. Heather and I grabbed our tack and headed for Limitless’s and Cora’s stalls. Both horses had their heads hanging over the doors, and they looked at us as we approached.

  “Hi, boy,” I called to him. The bay’s gentle brown eyes watched me as I put down his tack and reached up to stroke his cheek. I closed my eyes for a second, pretending I was petting Charm. I missed him more every day, and I hoped he didn’t think I’d abandoned him.

  Charm knows better, I told myself, opening my eyes and looking at Limitless. I’d gone on break before and Charm had been superaffectionate when I’d gotten back, but he’d never acted as if he thought I’d deserted him.

  Next to me Heather petted Cora and let herself inside the mare’s stall. She led Cora out and tied the mare to her stall bars.

  I unlatched Limitless’s door and put on his lead line. Like Heather had done with Cora, I tied him up outside his stall. It seemed easier than trying to find a pair of free cross-ties. The stable was busy this morning. Horses and riders filled the aisle, hot walker, and wash stall.

  “We should practice in one of the outdoor arenas,” Heather said. “Inside’s probably packed.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. I grabbed Limitless’s hoof pick out of his tack box and ran my hand down his right foreleg. “Hoof,” I said, squeezing above his fetlock. He lifted his hoof from the ground and stood without leaning on me. Scraping the dirt and muck from his mostly clean hooves took only a few minutes. I skipped the rubber curry comb—his coat didn’t need it—and picked up the dandy brush. As I ran it over his withers, I started thinking about last night. Heather and Troy had texted back and forth a few times after the first text. She’d told him about what we’d been doing over break and he’d told us about his break. He’d been having fun hanging out with his older brother and cruising around in his brother’s new car.

  I smiled, glad I could hide it behind Limitless. Heather had been so nervous about texting Troy—it had been shocking to see her that intimidated by a boy. But thinking about Heather’s reaction to Troy made me think about how I’d first reacted when I started crushing on Jacob. His green eyes and light brown hair popped into my brain now, and I pictured his easy smile. I wondered what he was doing over break.

  Stop thinking about Jacob! I wanted to smack myself in the face. I’d sworn off boys to focus on riding and school. No more boy drama. But I couldn’t stop myself. I wondered if he was thinking about me. If he’d written me a text and deleted it because he’d thought I really didn’t want to hear from him.

  I pulled myself out of my thoughts when I realized I’d been standing next to Limitless’s shoulder, not doing anything, while Heather was already starting to saddle Cora. I swept the body brush over Limitless and put his saddle pad on his back.

  “C’mon, Grandma,” Heather said. She took off Cora’s halter and bridled her. “What were you doing over there? Sleeping?”

  “You caught me,” I said. “That’s exactly what I was doing.”

  I put Limitless’s saddle on and tightened the girth. He stood still while I untied him and put the reins over his head. He took the bit easily and I finished bridling him. Heather and I put on our helmets.

  “Ready?” Heather asked, smoothing her red T-shirt.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  We led the horses down the aisle, weaving through the traffic of horses and riders. I was glad when we got out of the congestion and stepped out of the stable. Today was the perfect day to ride outside—it was sunny without being blinding, warm without being hot enough to sweat, and there were only a few wispy clouds in the sky.

  Heather and I stopped the horses to the side of the stable and mounted.

  “Let’s go to that arena,” Heather said. She pointed to a large arena farther away from the stable than the others.

  “Perfect,” I said.

  The horses’ hooves were muffled by the grass as they walked at an easy pace toward the arena.

  “I know we don’t have time, but do you have a favorite trail here?” I asked.

  Heather nodded. “Yeah—there’s one I used to take whenever I needed a break. I love it because it’s not one of those with a path worn into the ground because everyone takes it.”

  “I get that. I rode a school horse once that I’m sure could have taken himself on a trail ride—he knew every bend and turn on the path. Not very spontaneous.”

  “Exactly. So my trail was one that I made up when I took a wrong turn on a real trail. Then I just started taking that turn all the time. I showed it to my friends and we were the only ones who knew about it.”

  “What’s the coolest thing on the trail?” I asked. Trail riding was one of my favorite things to do on horseback.

  “It’s this windy path with uncut grass that leads to an awesome lake,” Heather said. “My friends and I used to— and this is soo lame—but we’d fill our bags with granola bars and water bottles and we’d wear our swimsuits under our riding clothes. We’d tie up the horses under the trees and swim in the summer and just have fun.”

  “That sounds like a great way to spend the summer,” I said. “There weren’t any lakes around my stable, but there was a creek. Charm and I splashed around it in during those days when it was so hot and gross during the summer.”

  Heather and I reached the arena, and I was excited to see there was already a jump course set up. It was complicated—with switchbacks, lots of verticals, and a bunch of oxers. If I’d been riding Charm, he would have dragged me toward the course.

  “Want to warm up, then work on jumping?” I asked.

  Heather nodded. “Definitely. That course looks exactly like what we need today.”

  We guided the horses toward the rail, staying out of the way of a man who was riding a sleek Standardbred. He was working the dark chestnut at a collected trot and it looked as if they’d been working for a while. The horse’s mouth foamed at the bit and flecks had splattered his chest. The man rode as if he participated on the United States Equestrian Team. He wore a blue polo shirt, black helmet, and tall black boots. Just the way he sat on the horse made me realize he was at a level of riding I’d only dreamed about reaching one day. Dressage was my weakest area, and just watching him and the connection he had with his horse made me want to try that much harder to improve.

  I tore my gaze away from him so he wouldn’t catch me staring, and focused my eyes between Limitless’s ears. The bay moved into an easy trot when I asked him, and I sat to his trot for a couple of laps before starting to post. It took me only minutes to fall into the familiar rhythm of practice. Ahead of me Heather let Cora into a canter and she barely moved in the saddle as Cora cantered around the arena, her legs flashing as she moved.

  I trotted Limitless for another half lap before I gave him rein and squeezed my legs against his sides. He eased into the faster gait and I had no trouble moving with him. He had one of the smoothest canters of any horse I’d ever ridden. I pulled him to a trot, crossed the arena, and switched diagonals. Heather followed us and we did this a couple of times before we pulled the horses up next to each other.

  “You want to go first?” Heather asked. “I’ll watch, and critique you when you’re done.”

  “Sure. Thanks. Mind if I walk the course first?”

  Heather shook her head. “Good idea. I’ll do that now too. Save time.”

  We dismounted and led the horses toward the first jump. I could have jumped it without walking it first, but it wa
s a tricky course. I wanted to do the best job I could, especially since it was getting closer to the schooling show and I hadn’t jumped Limitless before.

  The man working on dressage pulled his horse to a halt, patted his neck, and started him at a walk in our direction.

  “Omigod,” I hissed to Heather. “Do you think he’s going to say we were throwing off his practice or something?”

  “I don’t know!” she whispered back. “We stayed out of his way.”

  He stopped his horse in front of us and looked down with a smile.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m Chad Warren. I couldn’t help watching your warm-up. You’re both quite talented. Keep it up.”

  He tipped his head at us and rode out of the arena.

  Heather and I just stared at each other.

  “Chad—”

  “Warren,” Heather finished.

  “Omigod!” we both squealed at the same time.

  “An Olympic contender just said we were talented! Omigod. Omigod,” I said. “I had no idea it was him.”

  “Me either, obviously. Wow.” Heather’s cheeks were pink. “That was awesome.”

  “I can’t believe we didn’t recognize him,” I said. “His face is only in every issue of Young Rider or Horse Illustrated.”

  “I know. But I’m kind of glad I didn’t, actually. Then I might have gotten nervous and messed up.”

  “True,” I said. “Just. Wow.”

  We led the horses forward and I counted strides in my head. I wasn’t worried about forgetting the order of the jumps—that was straightforward. But I was a little concerned about the taller verticals and especially the faux flowers in a flower box on an oxer. I didn’t know if Limitless was spooky about things like that. He didn’t seem the type, but I wouldn’t know for sure until I was out there.

  Heather and I spent about ten more minutes checking out the jumps before we walked the horses back to the start.

  “I think I’m ready,” I said. I patted Limitless’s neck and prepared to mount. I’d just stuck my toe in the stirrup iron when two tall shadows fell over us.