by Janet Rising
“We’ll help you learn your test,” I said, impressed by Bean’s attitude. I could see her being great at dressage— Katy was right, Tiffany was well schooled, and Bean rode really well. I was, however, really annoyed about being forced into the wild card thing. My attitude sucked.
“Atta girl!” James grinned at Bean.
“You’re a star!” said Katy. “Besides, only the three highest scores count, so stop worrying.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” said Bean, getting indignant. “I’m just there to make up the numbers, am I?”
“I just thought it would take the pressure off a bit,” said Katy, going red. Bean just sighed.
It was settled.
I couldn’t help thinking how great it was to be on the team. Shame my event was a pile of poo!
Chapter 3
So you’re on Katy’s team now?” I heard Catriona’s voice. She and James were outside Moth’s stable.
“That’s right,” I heard James reply good-naturedly. “And we’re going to beat your team into the ground, so don’t get your hopes up!”
Catriona laughed and told James he had no chance.
I walked over to get Drummer’s halter, which was hanging on his door. I always dread seeing Cat. She never misses an opportunity to poke fun at me. I hate the way I feel intimidated just by her being there.
“Oh, there you are, Pia, we were just talking about you!” she smirked. Like I couldn’t hear! I pulled my mouth into a fixed smile. Catriona is annoyingly pretty, with short dark hair and elfin features. The other annoying thing is that she really likes James, and as James hangs around with one of Cat’s three brothers, I can’t help feeling she has the advantage over me. Sooo annoying!
I took myself off to bring Drummer in from the field. He was hanging around the gate, waiting for me.
“Come on, hand over that carrot!” he hissed, edging his way carefully around Cat’s skewbald mare Bambi. Bambi put her ears back and snaked her head at him. She can’t stand Drummer, and he, for some unknown reason, is totally into her.
I thought about Catriona. I bet she was furious that James was on our team—having him in hers had been a definite coup. I grinned to myself. Too bad, I told myself, Leanne didn’t want him so that’s your loss.
I still hadn’t thought of a thing to do for our wild card routine. I’d gone onto the Sublime Equine Challenge website and printed out the rules and regs. It was pretty complicated. Apparently, to qualify for the Brookdale final each team had to finish in one of the first three places of a qualifier. Twice. And to make it more interesting, teams weren’t allowed to enter more than three qualifiers. Tricky. And Katy was right, the highest three scores from each team counted toward the final score, with the lowest score being dropped from the total. Then I had searched for information on the wild card event. The judges will be looking for a performance from an individual that demonstrates a unique partnership with, and understanding of, their pony, it said.
It didn’t say whether I had to ride or whether I could be on foot. It did say each show was not to exceed a four-minute duration. It didn’t inspire me. No light bulb moment occurred; no mother of an idea popped into my head.
I took Drummer for a ride to see whether I could get my head around it. Drummer took advantage of my lack of concentration and bucked a few times, landing me on his neck.
“You’re so not funny!” I told him.
“Oh, but I so am!” he smirked.
We turned into the woods where it was cool and damp. Through the trees I could see the sun sparkling on the lake and Drummer’s hoofbeats became silent on the carpet of pine needles. I’d never been in this part of the woods before, but I knew I couldn’t get lost if I kept the lake in sight. I was still exploring the countryside near the stables, and finding new paths every time we went riding.
Suddenly, all thoughts of the wild card disappeared as Drummer slammed on the brakes and snorted, lifting his head and holding himself stiffly to attention.
“What is it?” I whispered, my hand on his neck.
“Don’t know,” he said. “But the ground around here feels a bit funny.”
“Funny?”
“Yes. I can’t explain it. There’s something strange over there behind the bushes. The whole area’s giving me the creeps.”
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my imagination ran riot. “Should we be getting out of here?” I whispered.
“What? No, no, it’s old vibes I’m picking up. Let’s take a look,” Drum said, walking forward again. I didn’t know whether I wanted to take a look. What old vibes? What if they were dead body sort of old vibes. And how old? It was uncanny how Drum could feel stuff.
It wasn’t a dead body. We pushed our way through the bushes and there was what looked like a grassy mound with a door in it. A very old, arched wooden door, with rusty nails and a rusty handle. It couldn’t be a house, unless the house was either very small or underground.
“What is that?” I said.
“You’re asking me?” said Drummer. “Get off and take a closer look.”
I slipped out of Drummer’s saddle. “Hey,” I told him, “no running off and leaving me here. Promise!”
“OK, OK. You spoil all my fun.”
I tried the door, but I couldn’t make it budge. It was old and mossy and the handle was riddled with rust. Secretly, I was really glad. I mounted Drum again.
“You are so feeble.” He yawned.
“Yeah, well, I’d like to see you do any better with your hooves!” I told him, turning for home.
When we got back to the yard, Catriona had gone riding with Leanne, but luckily, James was still around.
“I’ve just found something very strange in the woods by the lake—” I began.
James held up his hand to stop me. “Grassy hill with a door in it? Looks like a hobbit house?”
“Yes!” I cried. “That’s exactly what it looks like. It’s not a hobbit house, is it?”
“No, it’s an old icehouse,” James replied. “When the big house was here, centuries ago, the people stored ice from the lake in the winter to use in the summer. Built into the ground it stayed cold, and the ice stayed frozen for months.”
“Wow! I couldn’t open the door.”
“Oh, I’ve been in it. It falls away to a huge, dark hole, and you can’t see the bottom of it. It’s kinda cool.”
It didn’t sound cool. I was glad the door hadn’t yielded.
“How come you know about it?”
“Most of us do—but I think we’re the only ones, being as we ride around there. No one seems to care about it. If the city knew it was there I expect they’d think it was dangerous and probably board it up or fill it in.”
“Are there any other strange and ancient buildings or things around here I should know about?” I asked him. I was intrigued by the icehouse. It was really spooky. I imagined servants cutting blocks of ice from the frozen lake, loading it onto wagons, and packing it into the icehouse. How cool was that? Oh, actually, that’s pretty funny. I’ll have to remember that one.
“Oh, probably,” said James. “This yard was the farmyard for the same house. The work horses would have been stabled here. The riding and carriage horses would have lived at the coach house.”
“Oh, where’s that? Can you show me?” I thought an old coach house sounded wonderful. I loved the way the surrounding countryside held such historic secrets.
“No. It’s gone. No one can see it. The land”—James paused dramatically—“has reclaimed it.”
I had other matters of concern.
“I can’t imagine what I can do for this wild card event,” I moaned. James threw Moth’s old water away on the grass behind her stable and sat on the upturned bucket.
“Well, let’s think of something. What can you do that no one else can?”
“Nothing,” I replied, miserably, flopping down next to him. “I’m hopeless at thinking things up.”
�
�So do you have any ideas? I can’t think of anything!”
“Well…something did occur to me. You could do something like the dog people do,” mused James.
“What—agility? I can’t see Drummer galloping through a cloth tunnel or weaving in and out of poles.”
“No, not agility. What do they call it? Doggie dancing. You know, they put a routine together with music. You and Drum could do that. It would be different.”
I thought hard. I’d seen people dancing with their dogs on the television. It looked fun. I could make us both costumes. We could have music. I’d always imagined myself in showbiz.
“That might work…” I began. “But I’d need a theme and music.” I felt excited and my spirits lifted a bit. But then they plummeted again: I’d forgotten one thing. The most important thing. I was going to have to sell it to Drummer. I decided I’d defer that until I’d got a bit further with the routine idea. No need to get him into negative mode just yet. I’d wait until I had it all planned out in my head.
The next day, at breakfast, I had to suffer the account of Mom’s date with the latest man in her life.
“What a nice man!” Mom said, struggling to open a carton of orange juice. I took a deep breath—I’d heard that before. Most of Mom’s dates start off that way. By the fourth or fifth date, they begin to show their true colors and words like nice are replaced with weirdo, letch, and creep. I always looked forward to the novelty wearing off.
“He was charming and very funny. I think you’re going to like him, Pia.”
“It sounds as though you do,” I said, digging into some toast and jam. “Mom, can I talk to you about this Sublime Equine Challenge?”
“Of course. I was telling Greg about that last night…”
“I’ve decided to do a dance-type routine with Drummer, you know, like they do with the dogs at Westminster.”
“That sounds tricky. Are you sure you can do that?”
“Yes, I’m certain—I can talk Drummer through it (Mom knows I can talk with horses, but she doesn’t know how). But anyway, the thing is, I’m going to need an outfit—and so is Drum. Do you think you can help me?”
“I’ll try. I used to make your outfits for school plays, do you remember? You looked lovely in that angel’s outfit I made for the nativity.”
Uh-oh, nativity flashback! I’d been about six, there had been about fifteen angels, and Zoe Braithwaite was the most glamorous with huge, sparkly wings like a fairy queen. Mine were made out of wire coat hangers, and my dress had been an old nightdress. I wondered whether asking Mom for help in the wardrobe department was a good idea. It was too late to backtrack now.
“What are you going to be?” asked Mom. “I’ve got lots of old curtains in the attic from our old house, so if you can think up costumes with a floral theme, that would be handy. Did you see the rose Greg bought me at dinner? He’s very romantic.”
I couldn’t stop my head from filling up with images of Zoe Braithwaite. She had looked so glamorous. By comparison, I had looked like a clown, a jester to her queen. A jester…maybe there was some mileage in that idea. Maybe…
“What do you think about Drummer and me being a jester and a queen?” I mumbled, still working the idea around in my head. Drum could wear bells, I could get dressed up like a medieval queen, all flowing wimple and long dress. It might work…
“Or you could both be jesters,” added Mom. “Greg’s funny, too, amazing sense of humor…”
“Mmmm, we could.” My toast had gone cold and so had my enthusiasm for Greg. He sounded like a creep to me. “I need to think about this,” I told Mom. Grabbing my bag and Epona, of course, I biked to the yard with the queen and jester idea whirling around my head. It could work. Frankly, I thought, it had to work because time was ticking on, and I had only a week to figure out a routine and get our outfits made before the first local qualifier.
James and Katy thought it was a great idea.
“Great!” enthused Katy.
“I can just see you in medieval outfits!” said James. “Bells are a genius idea.”
“I don’t get it,” said Bean. “What exactly are you going to do?”
“Well, I’m not completely sure yet,” I told her. “It’s just an idea. It needs work.”
“We’ll help you work out a routine,” offered Katy. “It’ll be easy! Drummer will look so cute in a jester outfit with bells on—he’ll love it!”
Mmmm, I thought to myself with a sinking heart. I still hadn’t told Drummer—and loving it wasn’t exactly how I imagined he would feel.
Chapter 4
Let me get this straight,” Drummer said. “You expect me to do that ridiculous dance routine thing we practiced—with bells on—in front of all these ponies? Dream on!”
We had arrived at South Bassett Farm, where the first of the local qualifiers for the Sublime Equine Challenge was being held. James, Katy, Bean, and I had all ridden over—it had only taken an hour but had seemed a lot longer because Bean was trying to remember her dressage test, and we were fed up with hearing it—and now that we’d arrived we were feeling less than confident. South Bassett Farm was where the local riding club held its shows and events. They had a cross-country course in the adjoining woods, and the Sublime Equine team had moved in with all the paraphernalia needed to put on a show.
“Oh, my,” breathed Bean, “look at that group!” We followed her gaze to a team of four matching chestnut ponies. Their riders were all decked out in identical riding clothes with blue shirts and pale ties, and the ponies all wore blue and pale blue brow bands. Their blue saddlecloths had the words TEAM DIAMOND emblazoned across them.
“Whoa!” exclaimed James.
“Oh, I wish we’d thought of that!” cried Katy. “My mom would have made us some saddlecloths. We’ll have to have some for the next qualifier.”
“We’ll have to choose a name, first,” I pointed out. I didn’t like the look of this—there were tons of teams and they all looked much more polished and confident than us. I spotted Bambi and Mr. Higgins tied to Leanne’s trailer; Cat and Leanne were grooming them. Their matching red polo shirts had TEAM SLIC on the back of them.
“Team names seem to be the thing,” I said, wondering what SLIC stood for, and whether they’d forgotten to add the K at the end. Or maybe the letters were too big, and they’d run out of space. “We totally need to think up a name for our team. We’re just a number at the moment.”
“How about Team Tremendous!” suggested James.
“Or Team Bossy Boy,” mumbled Bean.
“Oh, good idea, Bean—you could all be James’s Angels, like Charlie’s!” James laughed.
“Is that supposed to be funny?” I said.
“Where’s the cross-country course?” Bluey said, chomping at the bit. “I can’t wait to get going!”
Tiffany looked around the showground. “Is that a paper bag or something worse? What’s that droning noise? I hope no one pops a balloon, and I hope my test is soon so I get it over with,” I heard her muttering.
Moth kept her thoughts to herself as usual, and Drummer was sulking. Which was better than going on and on about how much he didn’t want to do the wild card.
Breaking it to him hadn’t been as bad as I’d imagined— until I’d mentioned my idea for outfits.
“You expect me to wear some fancy getup?” he’d asked, his ears twitching backward and forward.
“Yes, well, the routine depends heavily on the visual aspect,” I’d explained.
“With bells, you say?” More ear twitching.
“Well, yes. Jesters wore bells.”
“And you’re not wearing bells, have I got that part right?” He’d stared at me.
“Mmmm, yes. You see, I’m the queen. A jester entertains the queen. He makes her laugh.”
“I’m a figure of fun? A clown? You’re glamorous, and I’m the stupid one?” Ballistic ear action.
“It’s only for four minutes,” I’d mumbled, aware that Drummer wasn’t b
uying into it.
“Four minutes…” he’d mused. “What’s in it for me?”
“Excuse me?”
“What do I get out of it? What’s my motivation?”
“Er…well…you get the satisfaction of doing your part for the team. It’s a team effort, and you’ll be supporting Moth and Bluey and Tiffany.” I had felt pretty pleased at thinking that up.
“OK, I get all that,” Drum had said dismissively, “but I’m talking about me. What do I get if I do this…this… pointless fancy costume parade? With bells.”
“What do you want?”
“To stay out at night. No more talk of me staying in and going on a diet.”
I had thought long and hard. The grass was going off a bit now so it would probably be all right.
“Deal!”
But when I’d tried his outfit on him, Drummer had protested all over again.
“What’s this stupid hat thing?” he’d said when I’d put the ear caps on him. They were knitted ear protectors, worn by show jumpers to keep out noise and flies. I’d managed to find some red ones at the tack shop, and Mom had sewn on some yellow diamonds. We’d decided that Drum’s bay coat would look good in a red and yellow jester outfit, with a diamond pattern and bells sewn in strategic places. I’d bandaged each of Drummer’s legs—two red bandages, two yellow—weaved some red and yellow ribbons in Drummers mane and tail, and decorated a yellow halter with tiny red felt diamonds. With little jingling bells from the pet shop sewn onto the tips of the ear protectors and each leg bandage, Drum ting-a-ling-ed whenever he moved. I had been very proud of my efforts, and thought Drum looked the part without going over the top.
Drum hadn’t agreed.
“So what are you going to wear?” he’d asked me, shaking his head. The bells had given a satisfactory ting-a-ling.
“I’ve got a wimple…”
“A what?”
“It’s a pointy hat with a chiffon scarf tied at the top…”
“Like a witch?”
“I suppose.” I had sighed, worn out by Drum’s negativity. “And a floaty yellow dress thing to wear over my jodhpurs. It’s really you they’ll be looking at.”
