Masquerade

by Jessica Burkhart

  And it showed.

  It was my goal that one day, Whisper and I would be a pair like Khloe and Ever. Whisper, eager to learn and trying hard, wasn’t as seasoned as Khloe’s older mare. It didn’t feel like a disadvantage to me, though, because I got to train Whisper. We were going to grow together. I hoped to prevent Whisper from learning any bad habits that she could have picked up if she’d been competing with lots of other riders before me. Every rider had a different style, and I wanted Wisp to know only mine.

  As for Khloe versus me—that was a little different. I used to ride like that on the A circuit. I had been off the show circuit long enough to have lost my edge—the razor-sharp edge needed to go up against a rider at Khloe’s level. A level that I was determined to reach again.

  Together, Whisper and I were a new pair. We would both require much more training before we’d be an even match for my roomie and her horse. And that was perfectly fine with me.

  I shook myself out of my thoughts, reaching out to stroke Ever’s neck. The bay was so sweet.

  “Did you see that girl from Saint Agnes?” Khloe asked us.

  “The one on the black gelding that’s almost big enough to be a draft horse?” Lexa asked, rolling her eyes.

  “I didn’t—oh, wait! I did see her! She bumped her horse into Whisper during warm-ups,” I said.

  Khloe shook her head. “That’s Peyton. I know somebody who knows somebody at Saint Agnes who said Peyton went to Europe for a while to train, and she just got back for the year. She’s in this class too.”

  Lexa groaned, stepping closer to Khloe and me. The three of us were sandwiched close together with our horses beside us. “That means we’re going to see her at every single show.”

  That named sounded so familiar. But neither the girl who’d glared at me nor her horse had registered.

  “I’m staying far away from her,” I said. “She’s a com—”

  “And now,” the microphone boomed. Someone had turned the volume a little too loud.

  Whisper tossed her head and shook her neck. “It’s okay,” I said. “Easy.” I ran a hand down Whisper’s neck, feeling her tight muscles shiver.

  “Please direct your attention to the dressage arena for results of the advanced dressage class.” Ms. Nelson had the microphone now.

  “Eeeek! Guys! Ahhh! Nervous!” Khloe said, spitting out the words. Her face flushed, and she clasped her hands together. “I hate this part!”

  “You won,” Lexa said. “I know it!”

  “LEX!” Khloe half yelled. Her voice broke the quiet that surrounded us. Horses and riders turned their heads toward the scream. Lexa and I ducked our heads. I eyed Khloe, who had her head up and glanced around, pretending she was looking for the noisy culprit too. My eyes met Lexa’s, and I could tell she was giggling on the inside too.

  “I was just trying to say,” Khloe said in a fast and furious whisper, “that I’m superstitious about other people saying I’ve won or done a good job before the results are announced.”

  “Since when?” Lexa whispered back.

  “Five minutes ago,” Khloe said. She gave Lex a sweet smile, put on her helmet, and mounted.

  Lexa shook her head, but didn’t say anything as the judges took turns announcing the lower-ranked ribbon holders.

  Fourth place—not Khloe.

  Third place—not Khloe.

  Second place—not Khloe.

  “In first, please congratulate . . .”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. Please say Khloe!

  “ . . . Khloe Kinsella, riding Ever from Canterwood Crest Academy!”

  “Yay!” I looked up at a beaming Khloe.

  “Told you so!” Lexa said. She grinned, then stuck up a hand for Khloe to high-five.

  Khloe trotted Ever away from us and through the arena entrance. She halted the mare next to Peyton, who had claimed second place. I compared Peyton’s score to Khloe’s—only a point and a half had separated them. Khloe, smiling, didn’t seem to notice Peyton’s stony stare. Khloe and Ever accepted their blue ribbon. Another win for Canterwood—check!

  I cheered for my roomie until my throat was sore and my hands stung from clapping.

  OUT OF (SHOW) SHAPE

  EXCITEMENT HIT ME WHEN I APPROACHED the big arena for my trail class. Before Canterwood, I’d always forced myself to take the toughest classes when anything fun had been offered. Or I’d been too high up on the show circuit for anything like this to be an option for me.

  Lexa and Honor had ridden before me and were watching me on the sidelines. Honor had a great round, except she’d gotten scared of the wooden bridge and had tried to refuse crossing. Lexa, like a pro, had gotten Honor over the obstacle after a second try.

  Before my class, I’d had time to grab a prepacked lunch that was offered to riders. Cole, Lexa, Clare, Drew, Khloe, and I all had gathered on the bleachers and enjoyed bottles of lemonade, chips, and PB&J sandwiches. Then we’d scattered to our classes.

  Now I focused on what was ahead. I walked Whisper up to the gate—the first obstacle. I had to open and close it without dismounting. Angling Whisper with one hand and maneuvering the gate wasn’t easy, but Whisper cooperated, and I latched it behind us before starting to the next challenge. Trail class was so fun!

  We weaved through six bright orange traffic cones at a trot and Whisper didn’t blink. I slowed her to a walk as we approached a red metal mailbox. It was covered with flowers and ivy. I opened it, the metal hinges squeaking. Whisper shuddered, pricking her ears forward. I tightened my legs around her sides and kept her still. I shut the mailbox and we continued. Whisper didn’t balk at stepping over cavalletti or trotting over a log.

  We approached a section of the arena that was littered with debris. I kept my hands light and guided Whisper around plastic milk jugs, Tide bottles, various soda cans, and a crumpled neon jacket. I let out a tiny breath of relief when we left that part of the arena. The “debris field” had been one of the challenges I’d been worrying about. Once I’d signed up for trail, I’d made a point to introduce Whisper to new and different objects, but I had no way of knowing what we’d find on the course.

  We approached the bridge that had spooked Honor. It was a solid wooden bridge that started flat and gradually rose less than a foot into the air and was long enough for a couple of strides.

  You’ve got this, I thought, trying to reach Whisper. Her head rose, and she eyed the bridge. I put pressure on her sides, letting Wisp know we were going over. She started to weave to the left. Nope. Not going to happen. I added more pressure with my left leg and pulled slightly on the right rein. Whisper followed my instruction and straightened her body as she stepped up to the bridge.

  I kept up Whisper’s momentum, not wanting to give her more time to think about what she was doing. She placed a hoof on the plywood, and her metal shoes clunked against the wood. Whisper’s ears flicked in every direction, and she wanted to step back onto the arena dirt. I pushed her forward, tapping her hip with my crop. Another hoof was on the bridge, and soon she stood willingly on the bridge—not one attempt to step off. Now that Whisper was on the obstacle, it seemed to make her calmer to see the end of the bridge.

  Wisp covered the bridge at a fast walk and snorted when she stepped onto the dirt. Good, good girl! I wanted to pat her neck, but we had a few obstacles left.

  Six red-and-white jumping poles were on the ground—three on each side. I circled Whisper, halting with her tail facing the poles. After a smooth stop, I put pressure on the reins and asked Whisper to back up. She tucked her chin and stayed within the poles as we backed through them.

  The rest of the course went by fast. Whisper cantered around barrels, jumped a ditch filled with water, and didn’t move when I dismounted, picked up a beach-towel-size piece of blue tarp, and rubbed the crinkly, loud material over her body. I opened and closed the gate behind us, again, and applause made me grin.

  “Yay, girl! That was très magnifique!” I said. “You’re so brave. Espec
ially with that scary tarp. I’m so proud of you.”

  I walked her back to where Lex and Honor waited.

  “High five, LT!” Lexa said, holding up her palm. “Awesome job!”

  We slapped palms and grinned at each other. “Thanks!” I said. “Our first show of the season is officially over.”

  Lexa pulled on Honor’s reins as the mare reached for a leaf off the tree beside her. “I’m glad. Embarrassing, but I’m actually tired. I’m out of show shape.”

  “I thought it was just me,” I said. “We’ve got to give ourselves a little slack. It’s the first competition of the season. We’ll get better.”

  “Hey, guys.” Drew, astride Polo, rode up next to me. A yellow ribbon flashed on Polo’s bridle.

  “Niiice!” I said, gesturing to the ribbon. “What class?”

  “Pleasure,” Drew said. “We were this close to snagging a better position, but I got sloppy with my posture toward the end.” He patted Polo’s neck. “Totally my fault. Polo did great.”

  I loved watching Drew interact with his horse. This look came across his face whenever he talked about Polo, and it only intensified when the two were together. Drew wasn’t a rider who was all about winning, but he was competitive at the same time. It was one of the things I really liked about him.

  “Third’s not bad at all,” Lexa said. “All the better that you know where you were off and you can pay attention to it next time.”

  “That’s true,” Drew said. He smiled at me. Like an almost-make-you-fall-off-your-horse smile. “You finished with trail?”

  “We’re both done. I think he’s the last rider,” I said, nodding to a blond guy in the arena.

  “Sorry I missed your rides,” Drew said. “Cool if I hang out while you get ribbons?”

  “Assuming we’re getting ribbons without even seeing out rides?” Lexa raised an eyebrow, smiling. “I like it. Positive thinking will make the judges reward LT and me.”

  The three of us watched as the guy in the arena finished, latching the gate behind him. His horse had refused to maneuver enough for the Regent County Day rider to close the gate while on horseback. Major points off.

  No one talked as the judges calculated the scores. Drew shot me a smile, and I managed a slightly wobbly one back. Whisper and I hadn’t encountered any big problems during our ride, but I knew there were probably plenty of places I’d messed up and hadn’t realized it. I tried to replay every second of the class in my head. I hope we at least came in fourth, I thought. I have to do well—it’s my first show for Canterwood.

  For Mr. Conner.

  For Whisper.

  For me. But don’t forget New Lauren. She knows that Mr. Conner isn’t counting every ribbon—won or lost—and that’s not what Canterwood’s about.

  “Riders of the intermediate trail class in arena C, please give your attention to the judges as the ribbons are awarded,” Mr. Conner said, speaking into a microphone. He handed it off to Judge Nelson.

  “Fourth place . . . is Lexa Reed and Honor for Canterwood Crest Academy,” Judge Nelson said.

  Lexa looked at me, then Drew, with wide eyes. “Whoa! I didn’t think we’d place at all because of the bridge mess-up. Good girl!” Lex stroked Honor’s shoulder and rode into the arena, stopping in the center. One of the other judges pinned a white ribbon on Honor’s bridle and shook Lexa’s hand.

  Third place went to a girl from Sterling Preparatory.

  I started to flick my tongue against the permanent retainer on my bottom teeth.

  “Laur,” Drew said quietly.

  I looked at him, not saying a word.

  “Breathe.”

  I took a gulp of air, wishing I had a cup of steaming vanilla chamomile tea.

  “Second place is Lauren Towers and Whisper from Canterwood Crest Academy.”

  Wait! What?!

  Wide-eyed, I looked at Drew, needing him to verify what I’d just heard.

  “I think you’re the only Lauren Towers at our school,” Drew said, laughing. “You going to get your ribbon?”

  “Omigod! I got second! I wasn’t sure I’d heard it right—it was so weird! I—”

  “Go!” Drew shook his head, laughing harder.

  Giggling, I cued Whisper forward. We passed Lex, and she gave me a thumbs-up.

  After the first-place winner had been declared and pinned, we rode out of the arena.

  “I think we rocked it,” Lexa said. “Canterwood showed those schools!”

  “Yeah, we did!” I said.

  “Lex!”

  Clare, waving a blue ribbon in the air, motioned her friend over.

  “What was I just saying about us destroying the other schools?” Lexa asked. “See you in a sec.”

  “Congrats on the win!” I called to Clare.

  She grinned. “Thanks, Lauren!”

  “And red looks pretty on you, sweet girl,” I told Whisper. I leaned a little closer to her. “And now let’s go talk to Drew.”

  He had dismounted and smiled up at me. “Not a bad haul for your first time out in a while,” Drew said. “You should be really proud.”

  I dismounted, glad my blushing cheeks hid behind Whisper.

  “Thanks,” I said, peeking around Whisper’s neck at him. I undid her girth, giving her more room to breathe.

  “I knew it was you.”

  I turned at the unfamiliar voice and looked up into the eyes of the girl on the black horse. I held her gaze for a second—sure I’d seen those eyes before. But I couldn’t place her, and I usually had a decent memory about people’s names.

  “Sorry, but have we met?” I asked. There was something about her that I recognized, but I didn’t know what it was. Her name had sounded familiar too, when Khloe had said it earlier, but that was all I had.

  Drew took a step closer to me, his eyes shifting between the girl and me.

  Peyton laughed. “Oh, Lauren. You’re smarter than that. Or at least you were when you were on the A circuit.” She pouted. “I can’t believe you don’t remember me. Maybe the hair color and my new horse are throwing you off?”

  I stared. “No, I don’t—”

  “Blond hair. Liver chestnut mare. Your only competition on the circuit.”

  No way.

  “Peyton. Carter. Omigod. Oh. Um. Wow.”

  Say more than one-word sentences! I screamed at myself.

  “Blond got boring, so I changed my hair. And my horse went lame, so I sold her.”

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry about your mare. I remember her—she was sweet.”

  I couldn’t remember the horse’s name, but I did remember that she did whatever Peyton had asked of her. Peyton wasn’t the gentlest of riders. I didn’t let myself think how her mare had gone lame.

  Peyton shrugged. “Sweet doesn’t win championships.” She rubbed the neck of the horse under her. The black horse was fit, tall, and blacker than coal. There wasn’t a single patch of white on him.

  “He’s gorgeous,” I said. Maybe If I was polite and could get away fast enough, Peyton wouldn’t start anything.

  Peyton shot me an of course he is smile. “This is Noir. My parents bought him for me when I went to Germany. He medaled in the Olympics last year, and I just had to have him.”

  “I can’t think of a better present to bring home with you from abroad than a horse.”

  Peyton smiled sweetly. “If you ever go out of the country, maybe you’ll have a chance to find out.”

  I managed a smile. “Hopefully.”

  “Enough about me,” Peyton said, waving her hand. “Going to introduce us, Lauren?” She nodded at Drew.

  “Sorry. Peyton, this is Drew Adams. We both ride for Canterwood.”

  Peyton flashed a pretty smile at Drew. He gave her a quick smile back, but it was strained. It wasn’t his I’m-really-happy smile. Dragging her eyes from Drew, Peyton stared at me with a look in her eyes. A look of trouble.

  “I heard rumors that you, the national dressage champ, had started riding at Canterwood.
I didn’t believe it. After that horrible accident . . .” Peyton bit her glossy bottom lip. “I was sure you’d never ride again. But here you are!”

  “I took some time off,” I said, not sure where this was going. Peyton and I had competed against each other several times, but we’d never been friends. She was the girl everyone had stayed away from—far away. Peyton trashed-talked every rider, spread the nastiest rumors, and bragged to anyone within earshot that her parents had spent seven figures on her horse. Some of us joked if she made the grooms line her horse’s stall with hundred-dollar bills.

  “You mean, you’re still taking time off, right? You just finished a trail class. An intermediate trail class.”

  Drew cleared his throat, shifting. I didn’t have to look to know he was mad. He couldn’t have been angrier than I was. Peyton wasn’t dumb. She knew exactly what she was doing—she was determined to make it look as if I’d had a fall from grace.

  “No, I’m not taking time off now,” I said, forcing myself not to snap at her. “I’m back to riding. If that’s ‘time off,’ it’s news to me.”

  Peyton blinked her hazel eyes. “So it’s true. You’re on the intermediate team here.” She shook her head, not even bothering to hide the smile that curled on her lips. “You can’t ride on the A circuit when you’re slumming it by doing trail classes. I’m guessing this was the only show that would allow you to participate, anyway.”

  I froze. I hadn’t expected to see Peyton—or anyone—from my past showing days. Today, of all days, I wanted to enjoy every second of the show. Fighting with girls like Peyton was a waste of energy.

  “Payson,” Drew said, his tone annoyed.

  I shot him a look, then gazed back at Peyton. I had no clue what Drew was doing! But if he was going to rip Peyton, he definitely had my SOA!

  “It’s Peyton,” she snapped.

  “Peyton,” Drew said. “I don’t know why you’re wasting your breath talking to us. Two intermediate riders who are obviously ‘slumming it.’”

  Oh.

  Mon.

  Dieu.

  If I could freeze time, I’d jump up and down, and then rewind the moment. Again. And again. And again.