Chosen

by Jessica Burkhart

  I touched a hand to my own face, too, feeling the smile that was ever present whenever I was near a horse. I couldn’t stop it even if I tried—and, safe or not—a tiny voice in my head reminded me that nothing, not even glee, made me feel the way I did when I was with a horse I loved.

  I led Cricket out of the pasture and toward the stable. Inside, I spotted Ana and Brielle’s horses, that were school horses like Cricket, waiting in our usual spot. We always tied the horses together at the end of the stable so we could catch up on school gossip. True, we BBM’d every chance we got during school hours, but there was something about grooming and gossiping in person that was better, even than Häagen Dazs Dulce de Leche ice cream.

  “Hey, guys,” I said to Ana and Brielle. “You got here fast. And cute shirt.” I nodded at Ana’s long-sleeved white shirt with a chestnut horse rearing on the back.

  “Thanks,” Ana sad, smiling. “I found the coolest new store online—Wolf & Harrison. They have the cutest horse-themed stuff.”

  “We changed at school, BTW,” Brielle said, her raven hair still shimmering in a low ponytail. “Our horses were already in their stalls. We looked for you in Cricket’s stall, but it was empty, so we figured she was outside.”

  “Yeah, Kim must have forgotten to bring her in,” I said, tying up Cricket. “But it’s no big. She won’t take long to groom—it looks like she didn’t roll in the grass.”

  “We can watch her while you grab her tack and grooming box,” Ana offered.

  “Thanks. Be right back.”

  I quickly grabbed Cricket’s English saddle, pad, and bridle from the tiny tack room. The riders who had their own horses kept their tack in trunks outside of their horses’ stalls. The stable’s tack was kept in the tack room.

  I picked up my grooming box—a new one I’d gotten for Christmas last year. It was the nicest one I’d ever had—my favorite shade of blue with glitter specks painted into the plastic finish. I’d also gotten a matching set of brushes, combs, and a pretty hoof pick.

  The memory of when I’d opened the grooming kit flashed in my brain. I’d already opened boxes with clothes, books, and fun jewelry, saving the biggest box for last. Mom and Dad had looked so excited for me to open it and I hadn’t even been able to conjure a guess as to what it was. When I’d opened it, I’d fought to keep a smile on my face. I loved the gift, but it hadn’t been that long since my accident. I’d been going back and forth between accepting what had happened and being terrified of horses.

  Thankfully, no one had noticed I’d been upset. No one except for Becca. She’d steered conversation away from me and the tack box, but had found me in my room later. Like always, Becca made sure I was okay. She’d invited me into her room and we’d watched White Christmas together until I’d fallen asleep.

  When I reached Brielle and Ana, we fell into our routine of grooming and gossiping. I watched Brielle brush Zane, the albino gelding she rode. She had to work harder than anyone to keep her horse clean. I loved Zane, but I didn’t envy Brielle. The tiniest of grass stains took Mane ‘n Tail shampoo to scrub it out. She had to bathe him at least once a week during warm weather.

  “I’m sooo glad this school year is almost over,” Brielle said. “Being in seventh grade is going to be so cool. We’ll be . . . ”

  Brielle let her arm drop down, clutching the red body brush she’d been using on Zane. Ana shot Brielle a quick look.

  “What was that?” I asked, stepping around Cricket so I could see them both.

  Brielle glanced at Ana and then back at me. “I, um, didn’t mean to start talking about next year. Sorry. Forget I said anything. I don’t want to think about it.”

  I shook my head, genuinely confused. “Why not?”

  “Because you might not be here,” Brielle said, her brown eyes looking down, then back at me.

  Her words caught me completely off guard. I actually felt myself take a step back. I couldn’t believe she was saying that now, especially after I told her and Ana about my conversation with Kim.

  “We don’t know that at all,” I said. “The chances of me getting into Canterwood are close to zero. I don’t want you guys to be all sad about the new school year—it’s going to be exciting and fun. Even if the world turns upside down and I get in somehow, we have all summer together. No matter what, we’re besties forever.” I looked at both of them. “Right?”

  Brielle’s frown disappeared. “Right.” She smiled.

  “Besties forever,” Ana said, giggling and holding out her pinkie.

  She, Brielle, and I tangled our pinkies together in a silent promise of bestie foreverness, smiling giant smiles. We went back to grooming our horses and tacked them up, resuming our chatter about school. But I couldn’t shake the look I’d seen on Brielle’s face. Why had she been so sure it was even possible I’d be gone?

  We led our horses single file down the narrow aisle to the outdoor arena. Ana mounted first, easily lifting herself into Breeze’s saddle. The always-calm strawberry roan mare stood still as Ana adjusted her stirrups. I loved Breeze’s wide blaze and socks. I’d ridden the mare before when Kim made us swap horses during a lesson. She’d been a smooth ride.

  Brielle and I mounted next and the three of us let our horses walk through the entrance into the arena.

  Dianna and Leah were already warming up inside. Our weekday lessons for my group consisted of just the five of us girls. There weren’t any boys who rode in my class. We were all considered junior advanced riders at Briar Creek.

  Ana, Brielle, and I spaced out our horses. I let Cricket on a loose rein to walk. The May air had a slight breeze and it felt good on my face, warm from grooming and tacking Cricket up.

  The five of us warmed up, giving each other plenty of space to work, while we waited for Kim. It felt good to be back in the saddle and I was ready for whatever Kim threw at us.

  I’d just eased Cricket from a slow canter to a trot when Kim walked into the arena. She stopped in the center, motioning for us to come closer to her. She wore a typical Kim outfit: a black-and-gray plaid button-down shirt, jeans, and a pair of well-worn paddock boots.

  Leah, Dianna, Brielle, Ana, and I walked our horses before Kim, stopping them far enough away to give her space to instruct.

  “Good to see you all,” Kim said. “Let’s get to work right away—before the weather changes.”

  I looked up at the sky. It had already begun to fill with puffy, gray clouds. I doubted we’d even make it through the lesson without getting caught in the beginnings of a May downpour.

  “We’re going to leave the arena and practice on the jumping course set up on the grass,” Kim said. “I’m going to time your rides. I’m looking for safe, clean, and fast rounds. Any questions?”

  We shook our heads. I followed Brielle out of the arena with Ana and our other teammates trailing behind us. The tightness in my chest that had been almost paralyzing only months ago seemed to ease with every new jump I took. I was ready this time—no backing out.

  Brielle and Ana were the only people outside Kim, Taylor, and my family I’d spoken to about my accident. Not that they hadn’t already known. It had been in every sports section of every major newspaper and had run on a loop of slow-mo replays on HorseTV. The headlines that flashed on the TV’s crawler danced around in my head: Dressage champion Lauren Towers suffers from a serious accident during Red Oak Trials. . . .

  I took a deep breath, and let my exhaling air blow away the memory. The crawler scattered and broke apart, dissipating into nothing, the way Becca had taught me to do.

  This was not something I needed to think about before a lesson—especially a jumping lesson. I let Cricket move into a brisk walk as she followed Zane to the outdoor course. The jumps we’d tackle were part of an advanced course. There were lots of turns, a couple of switchbacks, and Cricket’s one fear about jumping—a ditch.

  But I was ready to go and Cricket was, too. Her small body shivered with excitement as we made our way across the grassy field
and reached the start of the course.

  “All right,” Kim said. “Brielle, you’re up first. Then Dianna, Lauren, Ana, and Leah. You’ve all ridden this course before, so the jumps and their order should be familiar to you.” Kim turned to Brielle and Zane. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Brielle said with a confidence I wished I could reach over and take for myself.

  Brielle was the best jumper in our group—with Dianna a close second. Brielle would jump over anything and everything in her path. Kim had spoken to her a couple of times about being more cautious, but it was embedded in Brielle’s personality. She was an adrenaline junkie.

  Still, despite the fact that Bri was crazy about jumping, she would never put her horse at risk. I’d seen enough of that around the show circuit—riders who didn’t care about their horses and treated them like instruments or vehicles. Like the Mercedes or Jaguars they expected from their parents when they turned sixteen and still had their learner’s permits.

  My friends and I were all lucky enough to live in nice houses and were able to buy things that a lot of other kids couldn’t afford. Most of the students at Yates Prep were just as lucky—otherwise, none of us would be able to afford Yates’s tuition.

  But one trait that the three of us shared was that all of our parents had taught us manners—and money hadn’t come easily to any of them. I saw how hard my parents worked to have what they did and to provide for me. And my allowance didn’t just come to me free. I worked for it by doing chores—laundry, dishes, even washing the car or taking out the trash. Bri’s and Ana’s parents were the same—it was something that brought us all together. Most of the kids at Yates were so spoiled they wouldn’t even know what laundry detergent was.

  It made all three of us crazy.

  Brielle let Zane into a trot before easing him into a collected canter. Her black breeches looked sharp against his white coat and her legs were positioned just right.

  I sat tall in Cricket’s saddle, watching Brielle prepare to jump. I hoped I could pick up a few tips from her round.

  Zane, listening to Brielle, moved out of the large circle he’d been cantering in as she guided him toward the first jump. I knew the course well—I’d walked it many times and had made a diagram to study until I’d become comfortable with every aspect of it. Brielle and Ana had ridden with me—minus Dianna and Leah—so I could practice in front of trusted friends until I felt secure with my skills.

  Brielle let Zane into a faster canter and they leaped the first vertical with ease. Zane was as great a jumper as Brielle—clean and careful. He drew his forelegs close to his chest with every jump and tucked his hind legs so his hooves wouldn’t nick the rails.

  The pair jumped two more verticals—each increasingly closer together—then turned back toward the beginning of the course to take an oxer. Brielle’s timing was perfect—she knew just when to lift her body slightly out of the saddle. Her hands slid a few inches up Zane’s neck. She gave him the rein he needed to take the oxer.

  The other girls seemed as enraptured with Brielle’s ride as I. Her black hair, having been taken down from its ponytail, streamed out behind her beneath her helmet like a silken, ebony flag. There wasn’t a trace of bounce in her seat as she and Zane landed after each jump.

  Kim clicked the stop button on the digital stopwatch in her hand as Brielle finished the last jump.

  Brielle, smiling, patted Zane’s shoulder as she slowed him. She stopped him beside us, looking to Kim for feedback.

  “Well done,” Kim said. “Your timing is impeccable. Zane was in control the entire time and your focus is remarkable. One thing to watch: your shoulders. They tend to creep up toward your ears after you come out of the two-point position.”

  “I felt that happening.” Brielle nodded. “I’ll definitely remember that next time. Thank you.”

  Kim smiled at her, then looked to Dianna. “You’re up.”

  Dianna and her Quarter Horse, Zeya, ran into trouble on the course. The mare balked at the first jump of the triple combination and Dianna had to set her up all over again for the complicated jump. The refusal was enough to rattle Dianna, who couldn’t get Zeya over the combo. The mare slowed to a near standstill before knocking the first part of the triple and Dianna couldn’t get her going fast enough for momentum. They took out all three parts of the combination but made it through the rest of the ride without any more problems.

  Disappointment was scrawled all over Dianna’s face even though she praised Zeya, and I felt a sympathy pang drop my stomach to my feet. Dianna pushed her helmet down, pretending to adjust it, but I knew she was using the visor to partly hide her eyes. I felt her embarrassment and wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand—tell her I knew how it felt.

  “Dianna, don’t beat yourself up,” Kim said, clearly sensing Dianna’s mood. “Zeya had a bad round—it happens. You finished the rest of the course strong. You should be proud that you pulled it together after the triple.”

  Dianna lifted her head, her eyes meeting Kim’s now. “Thanks, Kim. I feel a lot better now.”

  I could tell in Dianna’s soft voice that it was true.

  It was my turn.

  Kim motioned to me and I walked Cricket away from the group. I sat deep in the saddle, tightening the reins to preempt Cricket from rushing. The mare had a bad habit of being able to sense my fear and, in turn, she’d rush jumps.

  The first vertical, solid navy blue rails, reached us fast. I rose just out of the saddle and took my weight off of Cricket’s back. Even though she was small, the mare was a high jumper. She pulled her legs close to her body and I knew there were inches between us and the rails. Cricket landed cleanly on the other side, her hooves making a small thud in the grass.

  One down! I smiled. That felt good!

  Cricket and I focused on the next jump, plastic boards that looked wooden. Kim had placed a red bucket on either side in an effort to teach the horses not to be scared by objects they didn’t expect to see on the course. Cricket didn’t even seem to notice. She sailed over the jump with her ears pointed forward, focused on whatever was next.

  I let her canter speed up as we approached, and Cricket took advantage of the extra rein without getting overexcited. Her experience, after spending years as a school horse, made me feel confident and adrenaline took over.

  I wanted the best time.

  And I wanted it to be by far.

  Cricket and I surged over the fence and, without giving it a second thought, I let her into a hand gallop along the wide turn.

  Kim hadn’t said anything about not galloping. Besides, there was plenty of room to slow before we reached the ditch.

  Strides before the jump, I brought Cricket down to a medium canter, preparing myself to get her over the ditch. Cricket, who’d taken the course before, knew the jump was coming. She slowed, beginning to weave to the left. She pulled at the right rein in an attempt to weave and run out on the ditch.

  I pulled her back into a straight line with steady pressure, tightening my legs against her sides.

  Cricket’s ears flicked back and forth. Her body tensed beneath me.

  My own nerves started to surface.

  You can do this—you’ve done it a zillion times.

  Three deep breaths and we were in front of the ditch. I squeezed my boots against Cricket, leaning forward. The pretty bay didn’t balk. She rocked back on her haunches and then—jumped!

  Airborne.

  It felt like much longer than the few seconds I knew to be true time. Our landing was smooth. We cantered our way through the rest of the course, heading to the final jump.

  The last jump, a vertical, had plastic pinwheels on the sides. The wheels spun in the gentle breeze and the blue-and-red wheels caught the sunlight. Cricket, emboldened after conquering the ditch, didn’t respond to the pinwheels.

  She stayed on track and jumped the tall vertical, landing with barely any sound at all, and then cantered back toward the group.

  “Good girl!�
� I rubbed her neck and she snorted with what I knew to be pride.

  I rode her through a few circles to let her muscles stretch and cool before I halted her. I looked at Kim, who had the stopwatch in hand.

  “Lauren,” Kim’s voice sounded stern.

  What? Oh, no—

  “That . . . was a lovely ride,” Kim finished.

  I let out a frenetic breath. The truth was, after I’d done it, I’d felt sure Kim would be upset that I’d galloped on course. I knew we were technically allowed to, but Kim only wanted us to gallop when absolutely necessary.

  I realized I still hadn’t replied to Kim’s compliment just as she began to speak again.

  “Did the wind from your speed round give you a hearing problem?” Kim teased.

  The other girls laughed.

  “I was going to say that you took a gamble and it paid off. Sometimes, you have to take chances. It could have cost you a jump if you hadn’t been able to slow Cricket. But you got her back under control and came in with the fastest time so far. Nice work.” Kim pointed to Ana. “Your turn.”

  Ana and Leah had clean rides, too, but their times were still seconds slower than mine. Kim didn’t have to say who had been the fastest with the cleanest ride, and I was glad when she didn’t formally announce me as the winner. My successful ride had been the highlight of my week.

  It made me feel like I hadn’t disappointed anyone today—Mom and Dad especially—who had moved from Brooklyn to Union for me. They’d realized I needed a fresh start and Mom had applied for a job at a law firm just outside of Union. When she’d gotten the job, they’d taken me for a walk, asking how I felt about a new start at Briar Creek and a break from competition.

  When they told me about one of Kim’s students getting into Canterwood Crest Academy, it was a fact that sealed the deal. I’d already known a ton about Canterwood, so once I’d heard that this stable had a connection with the elite school, I couldn’t have been more excited. Becca, on board for anything, had practically packed her stuff in a day. We’d never been happier than we were in Union.