Star Pupil (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 4)

by Claire Svendsen

  “That’s the kind of logic that makes my head hurt,” Becka said, looking at me and crossing her eyes.

  “So let’s not get caught then,” I said. “And we’d better hurry because they’re going to be coming in and setting up lunch soon.”

  “Oh good, I’m starving,” she said.

  “You’re always starving, you remind me of my friend Mickey.”

  If she’d qualified for the clinic, she would be the one here by my side, helping me get rid of Jess just like she helped me to get the saddle. Only she didn’t care about things like jumping teams and being the best rider in the whole world and after our fight, I wasn’t even sure if we were friends anymore. She hadn’t replied to any of my texts. When I got back, I was really going to make it up to her. After all I wouldn’t have been able to ride as well as I had so far without the help of the raffle saddle.

  “So where do you want to start?” Becka said, flopping down on the big leather chair and wiggling the mouse so that the screen flashed to life.

  “Well Jess said that he came from Germany,” I shrugged.

  “That doesn’t exactly help. Lots of horses come from Germany,” she rolled her eyes. “And it’s a big country.”

  “I know,” I said. “But maybe try looking up his name and see if there are any show results that come up. I know he’s been on the circuit. Jess said that he was a champion so he must have won something.”

  “Or she could have just been making it all up.”

  “I don’t think so,” I shook my head. Jess didn’t have to lie about things like buying the best. Her father’s money made sure of that.

  I sat on the desk as she typed in his name, half watching what she was doing and half keeping an eye on the door so that if anyone came in, we could jump up and pretend we were just waiting for lunch. We didn’t have much time but nothing was coming up in the searches.

  “Maybe she changed his name,” Becka said.

  “But it sounded familiar,” I said. I tried to think back to where exactly I’d heard it before. Was it in a magazine or online or was it just a coincidence and I hadn’t heard it at all?

  “Blue Midnight, Blue Midnight, Blue Midnight.”

  I murmured the words over and over again, hoping to trigger some spark of recognition. As I closed my eyes I tried to picture the horse that Jess now rode in a different setting. The brilliant colors of a rated show, flags flying as he soared over the jumps with a professional rider on his back.

  “Try Blue Magic,” I said suddenly. “He was that big, flashy jumper that was winning all the top classes.”

  “If he was winning all the top classes, why would they sell him to Jess?” Becka asked, typing in the name.

  “They wouldn’t have,” I said. “He died.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Blue Magic had been the kind of horse that all the top riders wanted in their barn. Talented, easy to ride and always in the ribbons. He swept the top prizes at a lot of the major shows and then there had been rumors that he was lame. Other people said that they had pushed him too far and he’d gone sour, refusing to jump. At his last show he didn’t place at all, dumping his rider off at the water jump and galloping around the ring for five minutes before they were finally able to catch him. Then devastating news of the worst kind. Blue Magic had colicked and died.

  “So is it the same horse or isn’t it?” Becka said. “Because the one Jess is riding doesn’t exactly look like a ghost to me.”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, looking at the pictures on the screen.

  “That horse looks bigger,” she said. “And fatter.”

  “But the markings,” I pointed. “He has the same ones.”

  “You can’t really see his legs very well because of his boots,” she said. “We need to find more pictures if we’re going to do a proper comparison and anyway, why would they lie and say that he died?”

  “He stopped jumping well,” I said. “Everyone knew it and with the rumors about him coming up lame, there was no way they could sell him for what he was worth. Maybe they faked his death to get the insurance money or something.”

  “But don’t you have to have proof for that? You know, like a body to show them?”

  “I don’t know how they did it,” I said. “But that’s the same horse, I know it is.”

  Becka wasn’t so sure. She was going to take more convincing but there were footsteps outside and we quickly shut the computer off and dashed over to the kitchen area.

  It was Dan, arriving with a big platter of sandwiches and bags of chips.

  “I guess you guys are hungry,” he said, putting down the heavy tray with a groan.

  “Famished,” Becka grinned.

  It didn’t take long for the lounge to fill up with hungry kids. There were good natured fights over who would get the last tuna sandwich and who ate more than their fair share of the sour cream chips but all in all everyone was in a pretty good mood. The sun was warming things up outside and it was going to be a beautiful afternoon to show Miguel our jumping skills.

  “How do you think he’s going to pick the team members?” Peter asked, stuffing the last of his sandwich into his mouth.

  “I guess it will be the best jumpers,” Hadley sighed. “Which won’t be me.”

  “Don’t forget,” I said. “He seemed pretty keen on dressage and you were better at that than most of us.”

  “But it’s a jumping team, not a dressage team,” Becka said.

  And just like that, the happy mood vanished into thin air. We weren’t just there to ride and make friends. We were there to win spots on a junior jumping team that would get national recognition. Attention that money couldn’t possibly buy, which was of course why Jess had bought her way in.

  She had bonded with the only other person at the clinic who could also afford to wear expensive show clothes during training, a tall girl called Sarah who rode a lanky Thoroughbred. They sat in the corner and whispered to one another, ignoring our speculation as though they were already assured a place on the team.

  “Hey Jess,” Becka suddenly called out. “Where did you get your horse from?”

  I felt my face turn red and I tried to nudge her to shut up but she was too far away.

  “Why? Jealous?” she said. “Want to buy one just like him? Well you couldn’t afford it.”

  “No need to get your pants in a twist,” Becka said. “I just asked where he came from.”

  “Germany,” Jess said.

  There was a general hush as people started to listen.

  “Okay,” Becka said. “Germany is a big country. Where in Germany?”

  “None of your business,” she replied.

  Becka had her mouth open, ready to push Jess harder when Miguel poked his head around the door.

  “Lunch is over,” he said. “Grass field. Ten minutes. Be there.”

  Everyone dashed out of the door, forgetting all about the fight that almost just took place between Jess and Becka. But I couldn’t get the look on her face out of my mind. She knew something, there had almost been a hint of fear behind those cold eyes of hers. Was she possibly worried that we’d find out her secret? Either way, we were never going to get her to admit that she was riding a dead horse or that she was using drugs to make him behave. I was going to have to come up with a better plan and fast. The clinic was already half over. Time was running out.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The sun was out and the wind had died down but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t still cold. I buried my hands in Bluebird’s mane as we stood out in the grass jump ring, waiting for Miguel to tell us what to do. He was adjusting three jumps that he had set up in a circle.

  “What is this, a merry go round?” Jess whispered to Sarah who laughed.

  Miguel wiped his hands on the back of his breeches and spread his arms wide.

  “Welcome to the circle of death,” he cried. “Here you will learn pacing and balance and pacing.”

  “You said pacing twice,” Bec
ka said.

  “Yes, I did,” he said. “Because pacing is important and since you think you have the right to correct me, you get to go first.”

  “Great,” she groaned.

  The exercise wasn’t bad. I’d never done it before but some of the other kids had. It was basically jumping a circle of jumps over and over, learning to find the correct distance and pace and then leave your horse alone. It was harder than it sounded.

  Miguel stood in the center like a ringmaster and shouted out directions. More leg. More rein. Sit up. No one got a free pass. I was told that Bluebird needed more leg because he was getting lazy. He wasn’t exactly lazy. He was tired. Just like I was. Just like we all were but I kept my mouth shut and applied the correction.

  Blue Midnight or Magic, if that was who he really was, didn’t seem tired at all. His pacing was that of a racehorse as he galloped around the circle of jumps, increasing in speed with each rotation.

  “Take control,” Miguel yelled at her. “You’re throwing him away.”

  But no matter what she did, she couldn’t get him to settle down. It was like the Blue Midnight of that very first lesson. He was right back where he started.

  “I’m guessing he didn’t get his lunchtime drugs,” I whispered to Becka.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I wonder why not?”

  “Maybe there were too many people around?” I said.

  Jess came back to the group, scowling.

  “What are you looking at?” she snapped at us.

  “Nothing,” Becka said. “Just your amazing German horse who can’t even jump in a circle.”

  “What did you say?” Jess rode up to Becka, stopping so close that their stirrups clinked together.

  “Get away from me,” Becka said, sidestepping Topaz out of the way.

  “Just forget it Jess, okay?” I said.

  “Forget about it? Right,” she said, spinning Blue Midnight around and trotting off.

  But I knew she would do no such thing.

  We were in the barn putting our horses away when Miguel came through and announced that tonight we were having a party. It would be our last night here at Black Gate. Tomorrow we would ride together in a group lesson and then in the afternoon Miguel would have one on one privates with each of us. Then we would be sent home, back to our own barns and our dull boring lives.

  “Wouldn’t it be cool if this was your life every day?” I asked Becka. “Riding and training and going to shows.”

  “It will be,” she said. “One day when we’ve graduated and can concentrate on our careers.”

  “But that seems like a lifetime away,” I said.

  School was like a black spot on the horizon. You were always running towards it and no matter how many hours of work you put in it never went away. I didn’t even really see the point of school anyway. How were history and geometry going to help me in the real world? I was pretty sure they wouldn’t.

  “So what are you going to wear to this party thing?” Becka hung on the outside of Bluebird’s stall as I adjusted his blanket. He already had manure stains on it after one night.

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged.

  “But this is our chance to impress Miguel,” she said. “We have to look amazing.”

  “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care about what we wear to the party,” I said. “It’s tomorrow that he cares about. What do you think he’s going to ask us to do in the private lesson?”

  “Maybe I should wear my blue dress,” Becka carried on with a dreamy look in her eyes, ignoring me entirely.

  “You’re hopeless,” I said.

  “Look, there are all of us girls and only one boy and I’m going to make sure that I am the one who snags him.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said.

  Peter didn’t seem like he was interested in hooking up with anyone. I felt kind of bad that he was going to be bombarded by a bunch of girls hopped up on sugar and the dizzying challenge of being the envy of all the other girls if he danced with them.

  “You know, I don’t even think I’m going to go,” I said.

  “You have to,” she cried, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the stall. “I need you to back me up.”

  “Back you up how?” I said.

  “Now who is the one who is hopeless?” she said.

  If not wanting to go to a stupid party with stupid dresses was hopeless, then I was content to be so but Becka would have none of it. She dragged me upstairs and went through all my clothes with a look of disgust. Then she went through all her clothes, holding them up in front of the mirror until she had picked out suitable outfits for the both of us.

  “Come here,” she said, brandishing a mascara wand.

  “Makeup? Ewwww. No,” I said.

  “Just try it,” she grinned. “You never know, you may like it.”

  “Very funny,” I sighed.

  “Please, do it for me,” she said.

  So against my better judgment, I let her slather her dusty eye shadow over my eyelids and apply mascara to my eyelashes. She finished off the look with a dab of her pink, glittery lip gloss.

  “I look horrible,” I said, staring at myself in the mirror with dismay.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, straightening the purple top she’d lent me. “You look amazing.”

  I didn’t feel amazing. I felt self-conscious and awkward just like I’d done when Mickey had dressed me up to sneak into Jess’s party.

  “I really, really don’t want to go,” I said. “Please don’t make me.”

  “You have to,” she said. “Besides, while everyone is busy, it will give us a chance to sneak out and spy on Blue Midnight.”

  Now she had me. If going to the party meant that we’d have a chance to get to the bottom of the whole Blue Midnight fiasco, then I guessed it was worth it. I just wished that I didn’t have to dress up like a store mannequin to do it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Everyone else was just as excited about the party as Becka was, except for Peter who was sitting on the couch with his head buried in a book and a scowl on his face.

  “What do you say we just skip this whole thing?” I flopped down on the couch next to him. “You and me together. We can order pizza and hide out up here. No one would ever know.”

  “Miguel would know,” he said. “It’s probably mandatory, like if we don’t go then we won’t get picked because it means we are not team players.”

  “You’re probably right,” I said, the last ray of hope fading away. I didn’t want to take any chances that Peter was right. After all, getting picked for the team meant more to me than anything else.

  “Well maybe we won’t have to stay long,” I said.

  “Don’t count on it,” he sighed.

  The party was being held in the lounge. By the time Becka dragged me down there, all the tables had been moved out and the chairs had been pushed to the side. There were streamers and balloons hung from the rafters and a rather banged up disco ball that swung precariously from the ceiling. There was a bowl of puce pink punch and plates of chips and snacks. The grooms were all huddled in the kitchen, talking quietly amongst themselves. But the guy with the black hair wasn’t there.

  “I think I’m going to check on Bluebird,” I said, hoping to catch a glimpse of Blue Midnight getting injected with something but it was too late.

  Miguel burst into the room in a frilly white pirate shirt and tight leather pants.

  “Who wants to get this party started?” he cried and everyone except me cheered.

  The music started, blaring through speakers that had been placed around the room. Techno beats that I vaguely knew but couldn’t remember the names of. Everyone just up and started to dance, pumping their hands in the air as the beat boomed out. I just stood there, wondering what the point was. Weren’t we supposed to be learning about horses from one of the best? Shouldn’t we have been studying course layouts or diagrams or something? Was this really how the top riders lived? Ride all d
ay and party all night? It wasn’t exactly what I had expected but I was the only one who seemed to care that we weren’t using all of our time at Black Gate to our full potential. Everyone else was dancing their hearts out.

  I lingered by the food table, sampling one of everything. All the riding had given me an appetite and I was starving. The layout was nothing like the spread at Taylor’s Tack Emporium and I could definitely tell that some of it had literally just been pulled out of the microwave but my starving stomach didn’t seem to care.

  “Come on,” Becka came over and grabbed my hand, her face flushed with excitement. “Come and dance.”

  “I don’t dance,” I said.

  “Of course you do,” she tugged me into the middle of the room.

  For a moment I was squished between people. Someone stepped on my foot. Jess was spinning Sarah around, both girls with hair curled to perfection and sparkling dresses. Even Peter, who professed his disdain for such things, was dancing in the crowd. The music switched to another song and everyone started jumping around again. I felt nauseous and claustrophobic. The world was spinning around me like the mirror ball on the ceiling. Maybe eating all that junk hadn’t been such a good idea after all. There was a pretty good chance that I was either going to pass out or throw up and as soon as Becka dropped my hand, I slipped away.

  Out in the barn aisle the night was cool and dark. The dull thud of music bled through the walls but the horses were all too tired to care. I ran to Bluebird’s stall. He looked up as I unlatched his door and ran to bury my face in his sweet smelling mane. What was I doing here? I missed Mickey and Esther and our tumbledown barn. I thought that I would fit in here. That I would be the best. But half the other kids could ride just as well as I could. I wasn’t special after all. I was just ordinary Emily and once again all I’d done was prove that I didn’t fit in anywhere.

  The tears I’d been holding in streamed down my face and I let them. Bluebird was the only shoulder I had to cry on and he never seemed to mind. He fumbled my fingers for treats, licking the salt off my hands and stood quietly until I stopped sobbing. Drained of emotion, I slumped down on a pile of fresh shavings. There was no way I was going back to that stupid party, even if it was mandatory.