Famous

by Jessica Burkhart

  I heard hoofbeats before I saw the horse. Squinting, I saw a rider trotting a dapple-gray horse around the perimeter. Khloe’s eyes were trained on the girl too. Long platinum-blond hair cascaded down her back. She was riding Rocco—one of Mr. Conner’s stable horses. Rocco was usually ridden by advanced riders.

  “She’s not—,” I started.

  “There’s no way—,” Khloe cut me off.

  “There can’t be another transfer! Can there?”

  Khloe shrugged, her eyes narrowing as the horse executed a parfait half-pass. Whoever this girl was, she was a good dressage rider.

  “People can transfer in all year, but this year has been kind of an exception with late registration. We lost Riley, gained Taylor, and now Brielle’s here. Unless this girl is here for, I don’t know, a training consult?”

  “We’re going to wonder about this during the entire ride,” I said. “Want to go up to the fence, say hi, and just flat-out ask who she is?”

  Khloe made an approving face. “Wow. Bold move, Lauren Towers. Let’s do it.”

  We walked across the grass to the large rectangular arena and watched as the girl put Rocco though a flawless twenty-meter circle. When the girl turned in our direction, she looked up, losing focus for a second. Rocco widened the circle, and she had to ease him back to the correct distance.

  The girl patted Rocco’s neck and turned him toward us.

  Khloe and I held up our hands in a friendly, we-come-in-peace-style wave.

  “Um, hi,” the girl said.

  “Hey,” Khloe said. She climbed up the fence boards and stuck her hand out to the girl. “I’m Khloe Kinsella, and this is my roommate, Lauren Towers.”

  I followed Khloe’s lead and shook the girl’s gloved hand.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Carina Johansson. It was really cool of you to introduce yourselves. You’re the first students I’ve met.”

  She had an accent that I couldn’t place. I’d never heard it before. It certainly wasn’t southern, midwestern, or any of the other regions in the US.

  “Oh? Are you a new transfer?” I asked.

  Carina smiled. Her cornflower-blue eyes played up her pale skin. “Kind of. I’m a foreign exchange student. I’m from Sweden.”

  “Sweden?!” Khloe couldn’t contain herself. “Wow!”

  “That’s so cool,” I said. “How did you even find Canterwood?”

  “My riding instructor knew about it. He keeps tabs on the best schools across the world. He knew I wanted to study abroad for a semester, so he suggested Canterwood Crest. I convinced my parents to let me come near the end of this semester so I would have time to get used to everything instead of arriving in January when classes start up again.”

  I liked Carina instantly. From Khloe’s posture, I could tell she was still unsure. I was willing to bet it had to do with the dressage.

  “Those were some good dressage moves out there,” Khloe said. “That’s my specialty. Lauren’s, too.”

  “Oh, how great!” Carina said, smiling. “Maybe we can all practice together for the advanced-team tryouts. Mr. Conner told me they’re going to be held in January next year.”

  “Khloe’s already on the advanced team, but I’d like to practice with you,” I said. “I’m on the intermediate team.”

  “Awesome,” Carina said. “Sounds great. Listen, I promised Mr. Conner I’d have this guy back soon in case he needed him for a lesson. I better go, but I hope I run into you guys soon!”

  “Bye!” Khloe and I called.

  Carina dismounted, adjusted her black North Face jacket, and began leading Rocco in large circles.

  Khloe and I stepped away from the arena and toward the stable.

  “Looks like we’ve got another newbie,” I said.

  A dark look passed over Khloe’s face. “Yippee,” she said flatly. “There are so many of them, if we get any more I won’t be able to keep them straight.”

  “Hey.” I elbowed Khloe lightly. “Don’t worry about Carina. You saw five minutes of her riding. You don’t know that she’s some superstar dressage rider who’s swooping in to steal the spotlight.”

  “You sure?” Khloe asked.

  “No, but she is very likely a foreign exchange student who’s here to learn about our culture and customs and ride while she’s here. She must be a good rider to get in, but it doesn’t mean she’ll make the advanced team. Plus, she’s an exchange student. She won’t be here next year.”

  That made Khloe’s face brighten. “You’re right! Even if she’s the school’s best rider in history, she has to go home to Sweden at the end of the year.”

  I nodded. “Exactly. But we’re still going to Google her.”

  We walked down the short gravel path and stepped onto the rubbed-matted concrete stable floor. I peered inside the stalls, and horses were in every color blanket—red, blue, black, plaid.

  I followed Khloe to the tack room, and we lifted our saddles from the rack and placed them over our arms. Our brides hung from our shoulders. Fluffy, clean saddle pads were fished out of the bin and put on top of our saddles.

  “See you in fifteen out front?” I asked.

  “Perf.”

  We split up, and as I made my way toward the end of the aisle, I saw Lexa had just arrived too. She was bent over her strawberry roan mare Honor’s tack trunk, looking for something.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey!” Lexa straightened, smiling. “I’m so excited about our ride, but not about the weather.” Lexa had dressed like me—layers and a red bomber coat. She had black ear warmers over her ears.

  “Agreed! If it’s going to be this cold, it may as well snow and make everything pretty. Right?”

  Lexa bobbed her head. “Totes. Instead we get brown grass, naked trees, and dead leaves. Ugly.”

  Whisper must have heard my voice. My mare stuck her head over the stall door, craning her neck toward me.

  “Hi, baby!” I said. I disentangled myself from her tack and reached up to give her a hug and a kiss on the muzzle. Whisper was wrapped up tight in a hot-pink blanket. I scratched under her chin for a few minutes, and she started flapping her bottom lip like a fish. I giggled.

  “Hey, Lex?” I walked to my roommate’s stall. She was inside with the door open.

  “Yeah?” Lexa was undoing Honor’s purple blanket. The mare looked stunning in that color.

  “You think we should drape blankets over their hindquarters? Or do you think it’s warm enough for them since they’ll be moving?”

  Lexa bit her bottom lip. “Good question. I actually could go either way. Want to ask Mr. Conner?”

  “I’d feel better if we did. That way we’re not worried about them getting cold.”

  Lexa let herself out of Honor’s stall and latched it securely.

  “We’ll be right back, ladies,” I told them.

  Lexa and I walked to Mr. Conner’s office. There was no telling if he’d even be there or not, but it was the best first place to look for him.

  We passed the giant whiteboard in front of his office. I always read the messages. One caught my attention: Sasha Silver & Callie Harper—see me Mon after class. Eeep. I crossed my fingers for Sasha’s sake that she wasn’t in trouble. I’d heard Callie’s name before. I was pretty sure she was one of Sasha’s group. “Sasha & Co.” was what everyone called them.

  Mr. Conner’s door was open, and he was at his desk. Lexa knocked on the door and he looked up, seeing us, then smiled.

  “Come in,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  Mr. Conner was as strict about keeping his office neat as he was with us keeping our belongings tidy. A giant Mac sat on his desk; he had a corkboard with a horse calendar pinned to it. There weren’t any pens on his desk—they were all in a pen holder. Not a paper was out of place.

  I saw the cast on his leg sticking out from the side of the desk. Just thinking about his accident made my stomach hurt. Mr. Conner had been teaching Sasha’s advanced class last week and had
taken them across the road to practice in a large field. Mr. Conner was also training Lexington, a young horse, for a client. Something had spooked Lexington and the horse had reared, flipped onto his back, and had narrowly missed crushing Mr. Conner’s body. He did pin Mr. Conner’s leg, breaking it. Mr. Conner was going to be in a cast for a while. But if you didn’t see the cast, you’d forget there had ever been an accident. Mr. Conner moved around on his crutches almost as fast as he did without them.

  “We’re going on a trail ride,” Lexa said. “I’m not sure, and neither is Lauren, if it’s cold enough to put blankets over the horses’ hindquarters or if they’ll be warm enough from the exercise.”

  Mr. Conner put down the pen he’d been holding. His black hair was cropped short, he had a slight tan, and he wore his usual hunter-green jacket with CCA stitched in gold lettering. The school’s colors were everywhere!

  “I’m glad you asked me,” he said. “If it was a few degrees colder, I’d say blankets were a good idea. But you’re not going to be out too long, I assume?”

  Lexa and I shook our heads no.

  “Then your horses are fine without them,” Mr. Conner continued. “The movement will keep them warm.”

  We smiled at him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Conner,” I said.

  Lexa echoed my thanks, and we left his office.

  We turned onto the main aisle and almost smacked into Cole.

  “Whoa!” Cole said. “Is there a sale at the mall that I don’t know about?”

  We giggled.

  “Unfortunately, no,” I said. “But go get your tack and hurry! We’re meeting outside in fifteen.”

  Cole gave me a sharp salute, his face stoic but his green eyes smiling. Cole’s infectious energy always made me smile. We could talk about anything—horses, cute guys Cole was crushing on—and we always had fun.

  Back at Whisper’s stall, I took off her blanket and folded it carefully. The blanket had kept her clean, but I whisked a body brush over her light coat. I picked her hooves and ran a wide-toothed comb through her mane and tail. In the stall beside us, I heard Lexa cooing to Honor as she did a similar grooming routine.

  Whisper treated every grooming session like her own personal spa time. She let out grunts when I brushed her in a favorite spot and closed her eyes when I combed her mane. I loved making her feel good.

  “All right, pretty,” I said. “Let’s get your tack on and go meet everyone.”

  Even though the stable had heaters, it was still cold inside. But once I’d started grooming Whisper, I’d forgotten about the cold. The exercise had warmed me up.

  I placed a white wool saddle pad on Whisper’s back, then gently put my English saddle on top of it. I tightened the girth to its usual notches and made a note to check it again after I bridled her. Whisper didn’t move when I slipped off her pink halter. I took both of my hands and wrapped them around the stainless-steel bit, warming it before giving it to Whisper. With the crownpiece in one hand and the bit in the other, I slipped the bit into Whisper’s mouth and eased the crownpiece over her ears. I ran my hands along the leather on both sides, making sure there weren’t any tangled straps.

  I’d taken off my solid leather reins and had replaced them with fun, rainbow reins with grips, which made them easier to hang on to when I wore gloves.

  We walked out of her stall, and I stopped Wisp while I grabbed my Lexington helmet from my tack trunk. I put it on and snapped the chin strap. Gloves were next.

  “And we’re ready!” I said. “Lex? You all set?”

  “Yep! Just need my helmet.”

  Lexa led Honor out of her stall, and Honor and Whisper sniffed each other’s muzzles in a hello.

  I loved that they were friends.

  Together, we led the two horses down the aisle. Just outside the stable, Cole, Clare, and Khloe waited for us. Now we had two big things to talk about: Carina and Brielle. Let the gossiping begin!

  HOW DO YOU SAY “STAR” IN SWEDISH?

  CLAD IN MY PJ’S, I toweled off my wet hair with a lavender bathroom towel. Khloe, already freshly showered, sat on her bed and watched the latest entertainment news. KK looked up as I came out of the bathroom, and smiled.

  “Those pj’s are giving me major envy,” Khloe said. “Look at my eyes. Did they turn green?”

  I giggled. “You know you can borrow my clothes anytime.” My pj’s were from Victoria’s Secret’s PINK line. I had purple leggings with an oversize long-sleeve gray tee with a giant glitter heart in the middle.

  “Are we still going to do it?” I asked.

  “Um, totes,” Khloe said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now! I want to see what we find out. If anything.”

  Khloe shut off the TV. “Oh, please. ‘If’ we find anything. Everyone has a past, and the Internet makes it oh-so-easy for us to snoop.”

  Khloe opened her laptop and patted the spot next to her. She was in pink leopard-print pants and a long-sleeve thermal shirt.

  I settled next to her and pulled my damp hair into a sloppy bun—good enough until I blow-dried it.

  Khloe clicked on Firefox. She went to Google and typed “Carina Johansson” into the search box.

  We both leaned toward the screen. I scanned the endless links. The first twenty-something had nothing to do with our Carina, but with a famous actress. Khloe clicked the second page. Still nothing. More links to Actress Carina that shifted to Model Carina. None of Rider Carina.

  “Ooh! Give it to me,” I said.

  Khloe slid the laptop in my direction.

  “Let’s make it a little more specific,” I said as I typed.

  I hit enter when I’d finished typing “Carina Johansson equestrian Sweden.”

  “Smart!” Khloe said.

  We stared at the screen, watching the old page turn to white and a new page of links load.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Khloe sat back a little. The same reaction I’d had.

  “She’s—,” Khloe started.

  “A Swedish Sasha Silver,” I finished.

  Neither of us moved for a moment. There were Swedish show results, some that I couldn’t read, fan sites, newspaper coverage . . . everything a highly ranked rider would have. My stomach sank a little. The competition at Canterwood was already insane enough. Now we had Carina.

  “Before we start looking at links and freaking out, what is Mr. Conner going to do with her?” I asked Khloe. “You’ve been here longer than me. What do you think?”

  Khloe thought for a second. “Well, I think he’ll follow the same protocol that he did with Brielle. He’ll put Carina on the intermediate team and give her the chance to make the advanced team in January along with everyone else.”

  “She’s an exchange student, though. Don’t you think she’ll go home in May?”

  My mouth grew drier by the second. I couldn’t think about having another strong rider like Carina to compete against for a coveted spot on the advanced team. Brielle was already a strong contender, and she hadn’t been here long.

  “I don’t know,” Khloe said, shrugging. “We haven’t asked her how long her exchange program is.”

  “I’ll look for her and get to know her enough to ask.”

  Suddenly we both dove for the mouse at the same time, our hands clashing.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Your laptop. You go.”

  “We’ll take turns,” Khloe said.

  Khloe clicked the first link. The website gave us the option for Swedish or English. Khloe clicked English.

  “ ‘Johansson Farms,” Khloe read aloud. “ ‘We excel in breeding top-quality Warmbloods. Our farm specializes in Swedish Warmbloods to suit your needs. Our horses have produced unmatchable breeding stock as well as sport horses of Olympic caliber.’ ”

  “Whoa,” I whispered. “Her parents are in the business.”

  I looked at the web page, and there was a photo of several huge stables, training arenas, and pastures. A sign, weathered to look vintage, re
ad JOHANSSON FARMS in a delicate font.

  Khloe scrolled down the page. “ ‘We offer lessons to serious equestrians who are prepared to work beyond the traditional hours to further their riding career. If interested, please fill out the online form, and someone from our stable will get back to you within two weeks. Please note that not everyone can be accepted as, on average, only fifteen to twenty percent of applicants are selected for admission.’ ”

  “Click on the app just to see,” I said. “I’m so curious.”

  Khloe clicked on the link for “Apply Now” and small sounds escaped both of our mouths. There were over fifteen pages of questions solely about riding.

  The stable required a minimum of five years’ experience to even apply.

  “You take over,” Khloe said, moving her hand off the mouse pad and drawing her knees to her chest. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  I realized my hands were clenched together, and they were sweaty when I pulled them apart and put my middle finger on the track pad.

  I went back a page and scrolled up to the top. I clicked on “Star Students.”

  Bingo.

  “Look,” I said. “Here’s all we need to know.”

  There was a photo of a beaming Carina next to a gorgeous bay with a championship ribbon pinned to his bridle. CARINA JOHANSSON/WYNTER was typed under the picture.

  There was an article next to Carina’s photo, written in press-release style.

  I cleared my throat. “ ‘Johansson Farms is proud to be the home of Carina Johansson. At four, Carina began competing in local shows. Soon she progressed to regional, national, and eventually, international competitions. Currently, Carina is the title holder of the Juniors’ All-Around Qualifier on her gelding, Wynter. See below for her full list of titles and past competitions. Carina is trained by Aksel Brunn, who is known for sending three past students to the Olympics. For press inquiries, please contact Carina’s publicist at the information below.’ ”

  I skipped over the publicist’s information and scrolled to Carina’s list of accolades. They blurred together.

  First place, Grand Prix