I glanced over at Drew, who was two horses away, next to Lexa. He smiled and dipped his head at Mr. Conner. “Thank you, sir.” He gave Polo’s shoulder a hearty pat. I smiled for Drew.
Polo, Drew’s blood bay gelding, was an Arab and Thoroughbred mix. You’d never know it by his temperament. The always-calm gelding was an especially strong jumper and, during the beginning of the exercise, it seemed as though he’d eyed the poles as high jumps. Drew had worked through each round to encourage Polo to exert the right amount of energy and not work too hard.
“The exercise you completed is not just for new riders,” Mr. Conner said. “Throughout the season, we will be tackling several exercises you may view as ‘easy,’ but will serve as a good refresher or a way to fine-tune skills.”
“I’m glad we’re going to practice more of those exercises, Mr. Conner,” Riley said. “Adonis and I wouldn’t be on the intermediate team this year if you hadn’t taught us the importance of keeping up basic skills.”
Ugh. Khloe would have fake-vomited if she’d heard that.
“That is the attitude I hope you all adopt,” Mr. Conner said. “Tomorrow, we’ll step up the degree of difficulty with different exercises. Please plan to stay an extra fifteen minutes. I’ll be adding in the new aspect of this year’s curriculum—equine care and health.”
After I’d cooled Whisper, cleaned her stall, and given her fresh water and hay, I started down the aisle to Mr. Conner’s office. I checked my watch—he should have finished with Khloe’s advanced class a few minutes ago. I’d purposefully taken my time with Whisper to catch Mr. Conner after his last class.
I paused by the bulletin board on the wall—half corkboard and half whiteboard. I read some of the notes scribbled for students. Alison Robb—see me after lesson. —Mr. Conner. The name was unfamiliar. Must be an older or younger rider. I shook my head. Stop stalling, Laur. I glanced at the paper held with a red tack.
7th Grade Intermediate Team Schooling Show Sign-Up was typed at the top in bold font. Next to that sheet was the promised list of classes. I read down the list, although I already knew what I wanted to do.
I looked back at the sign-up sheet. Names and choices half filled the lined page.
Cole Harris: Cross-country and dressage
Lexa Reed: Dressage and trail riding
Riley Edwards: Horse management and show jumping
Clare Bryant: Pleasure class and show jumping
Drew Adams: Cross-country and pleasure class
My heart pounded in my ears when I picked a pen from the cup on the small wooden table under the board.
Lauren Towers: Dressage and trail riding
I put back the pen, looking back at what I’d just written. I’d just signed up for my first show since Red Oak. It seemed strange to see my name on the board with classes next to it. Strange and right.
Turning away, I smoothed my shirt and knocked on Mr. Conner’s partially open door.
“Come in,” he said, looking up from his computer screen. “Hi, Lauren.”
“Hello, Mr. Conner. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course. Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk and smiled.
I’d been in his office before, but I wasn’t used to it. I still expected to walk into Kim’s office at Briar Creek. My old instructor’s office had photos of past and present riders, including Sasha Silver, decorating the walls. Papers and files had been organized with messy chaos.
Mr. Conner’s office was the opposite. Giant black filing cabinets were stacked along the wall behind him, everything on his desktop was in a holder, and a giant monthly calendar spread across his desk had something filled in every day.
“Thank you for seeing me,” I said. “I wanted to tell you that everyone on my team knows about my accident at Red Oak. It sort of . . . came out this weekend.”
“How did your teammates react?” Mr. Conner asked. His voice wasn’t stern, like it was during lessons.
“It was a little rocky at first,” I admitted. “The more honest I was, the better it went. Everyone’s fine now. It feels good that they know. I feel more like part of the team.”
Mr. Conner nodded. “That’s great, Lauren. I imagine it does feel better to have shared something so heavy with friends and teammates.”
“Definitely,” I said. “I wanted to tell you because you’ve been so generous with keeping that to yourself. I really appreciate it, and you needed to know that it’s not something you have to hide for me anymore.”
“Thank you, Lauren,” Mr. Conner said. “No matter how the truth came out, I’m glad you’re comfortable with the outcome. I believe it will only bring you and your teammates closer.”
“I hope so.” We smiled at each other, and Mr. Conner asked if there was anything else I wanted to discuss. It felt as though he were giving me an opportunity to ask about the show.
“I’m all set,” I said.
“Great. Come see me anytime,” Mr. Conner said.
I left his office and passed the sign-up sheet. I couldn’t help but smile.
9
TOTAL SETUP
EVEN THOUGH A STACK OF HOMEWORK waited for me back in my room, I took a detour off the main sidewalk back to Hawthorne. I found an empty bench away from the chatter of campus and nestled under a giant oak tree. The tree was still full and leafy—not giving a hint of fall’s approach. I put my bag on the bench and sat, rifling through the GO CCA! green and gold tote until I found my BlackBerry.
I pressed speed dial number three.
“Hey, sis!” Becca answered.
“Hi!” I said. “I’m so happy I caught you. Do you have a sec?”
“Hmmm. Maybe two seconds,” Becca said, her tone teasing. “What’s up?”
“There’s so much. I seriously don’t even know where to start. But Saturday morning seems right.”
“Oooh. Spill,” Becca said.
“It’s not really a ‘spill’ type of thing.”
“Uh-oh. I better get comfy for this.”
I visualized Becca leaning back into her cozy pillows or sitting in her pod chair, spinning in a slow circle.
“Okay, so you know I had a sleepover last weekend.”
“That sounds vaguely familiar. Oh, wait. The bazillion BBMs are bringing it back to me.”
“Okay, okay! So there were a few messages.”
“Your BBM yesterday said it had been great.”
“It was,” I said quickly. “But—”
“There’s a but?” Becca cut me off. “Laur, did something happen?”
I drew my feet onto the bench, hugging my knees to my chest. “Mom called on Saturday morning. Everyone had just woken up and we were about to get breakfast in the common room.” I walked Becca through the morning, stopping for a breath when I got to the part about seeing myself on TV.
“Oh, my God. Oh, Lauren! You went into the common room and your Red Oak trial was playing?!”
I nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see me. Phone convos with Becca always felt like she was next to me. “It was all happening so fast and so slow at the same time. Know what I mean? I just sank down to the floor, not knowing what to do.”
“Of course not! Who would? I probably would have run out crying.” Becca’s tone was mixed with sympathy, anger, and big-sister protectiveness.
“I wanted to run,” I said. “But I don’t think my legs would have worked.”
“You’re also not that type of girl,” Becca said. “You face stuff like that in the moment.”
“I had to. I couldn’t do that to Khloe and Lexa or let Riley see the footage and run with it.”
Becca listened, letting me talk. It felt beyond good to tell her about yesterday. At home, she was the first one I went to with anything. The best part about Becca? Just because she was my sister didn’t mean she wouldn’t be honest. If she thought I’d messed up, she’d tell me.
“I just finished my riding lesson and everyone on my team seems cool. I feel so much better that
they know. You know how bad I felt about keeping that secret. Especially from Khloe. I wouldn’t have felt as though our friendship would have had a real chance to move forward unless I’d been honest with her.”
I shifted on the bench, noticing for the first time that the sun was setting. Shadows darkened parts of campus and lightning bugs blinked across the lawn. Time always went by so fast when I talked to my sister.
“I’m glad you feel better and I think you’re right about honesty—it’s good for your whole team morale. But there’s something that just doesn’t feel right.”
“What?” I asked.
“Laur. Think about it. You said your common room has hundreds of DVDs, right?”
“Yeah . . .”
“So, what are the odds that this girl picks your horse show out of them? I totally think that Jill chick set you up.”
“Jill? No way. She’s not like that, Becs. You’d know it if you met her.”
“Okay, maybe not Jill. But what about Riley? What if she directed Jill toward your DVD and didn’t clue her in? You’ve told me how ruthless this girl is. All of your friends were gathered, you were out of the room, and she had the perfect opportunity.”
I played with my necklace. “If I were in your position, I know I’d be saying the same thing to you. But it just doesn’t feel like Riley did anything. Everyone was there, so Riley wasn’t alone to go through the DVDs. Plus, Jill would have told me if she’d had even an inkling that something was off or if Riley had influenced her in any way.”
“You’re usually a great judge of character, so I’ll take your word on Jill. I still don’t know about Riley, though.”
“I get it. But Riley also didn’t know about Red Oak. Or, at least if she did know, she kept it very well hidden.”
“Keep an eye on her for the next few days and see how she treats you,” Becca said. “Maybe that’ll help.”
Becca and I spent a few more minutes talking about it, and by the end of our conversation, I remained convinced that the DVD surfacing had been a total coincidence.
“Before we hang up,” I said. “What’s going on with you and Grant? How’s everything at home?”
I heard papers rustling and a familiar click—Becca’s desk lamp. There was a creak, and I knew she’d sat in her desk chair. It was a chair she’d lugged to our Brooklyn apartment from Tenth Avenue one afternoon when we’d she’d spotted it in someone’s FREE! TAKE ME! pile on the sidewalk.
“Grant and I are fabulous,” Becs said. I could feel her smile. “He took me to see a romantic comedy last weekend. It was a complete surprise! We’d both agreed on an action flick before we went. At the ticket counter, though, he bought tickets for Timeless because he’d heard me talking nonstop about it with my friends.”
“Awww! That’s so sweet! You’re on the hook now to go see some gory boy movie. You know that, right?”
“Of course,” Becca said, laughing. “He already picked a zombie flick for next week. But totally worth it. As for home . . . everything’s okay at Casa de Towers. I’m busy with school, Mom’s working a lot on this big case. She’s tried to explain it to me a bunch of times, but she talks in legalese and you know how fluent I am in that.” We laughed.
“Lawyer-speak is not a language you and I will ever master,” I said.
“So true. Dad’s busy with a new book. He’s excited about it and in the outline process. He’s carrying a notepad everywhere in case he has a new idea.”
“Is he bringing notecards to dinner yet?”
“Last night. He tried hiding them under his napkin and Mom caught him.” Becca giggled. “Dad looked like a kid who lost his fave toy when Mom took them away from him for dinner.”
She told me a few more quick things that were going on at home, and then we hung up.
I stared at my phone, watching the screen dim. Talking to Becca about home and hearing about Mom and Dad made me feel more and less homesick at the same time. They were still doing all of the same things, but without me. I was missing dinner every night. I didn’t get to give Mom advice about what skirt went best with her blazer for a meeting. I wasn’t there for Dad as the sun was coming up and he wanted someone to bounce ideas off of. And, maybe the biggest thing of all, I wasn’t around Becca.
Remember what you went through to get here, I reminded myself. Everyone is behind you. No one is moving on without you. They’re living, and so are you. Plus, you’ll be home soon enough for Thanksgiving break, then Christmas. I’d get to see my family and Ana, Brielle, and Taylor. To get to break, though, I had to go back to my room and tackle homework. Monday madness, as Khloe and I had dubbed Monday night’s homework craze, was way overdue.
10
EYES ON THE
PRIZE
HOURS LATER, KHLOE AND I SIMULTANEOUSLY groaned. We were both in pj’s and sitting at our desks. It felt like if I sat at mine much longer, I’d mold into my chair.
Khloe’s long blond hair was swept up into a messy, beachy bun and a few tendrils that had escaped framed her face. Très chic. Her pajamas were so Khloe—a long-sleeve tissue tee with matching drawstring pants. They were both the same hot pink color with purple splotches that looked like an exotic cheetah print.
Mine were a little more subdued. I’d paired flowing ivory pants with an arctic green lacy tank top.
“Monday madness is so wrong,” Khloe said. “It’s backward! We’re coming from two days off—we should be eased back into the school week.”
“Totally agree,” I said. “Keep our reward in mind.”
Khloe rubbed her eyes, smudging her kohl eyeliner. “Manis after we’re done. Believe me, I keep repeating that to myself. You promised to teach me an EBT for nails, too.”
I smiled. “EBTs” or “essential beauty tricks” were tips that Ana, Brielle, and I had traded. I’d told Khloe about it and she’d adopted the idea, wanting to share EBTs with me.
“I did. Doing our nails will be the perf reward. What do you have left?”
Khloe picked up her hunter green assignment notebook—they were mandatory for all students—and scanned the page. “English and . . . oooh! English and nothing! I got more done than I thought.”
“That’s major, Khlo! Yay!” I looked at my own notebook. “I’ve got a history worksheet, then a few math problems need rechecking.”
“Nice, LT. I bet we finish at the same time.”
“Let’s see!” I said, spinning my desk chair back to my work.
Khloe giggled. “You’re on.”
I filled in blanks and bubbles on the worksheet from Mr. Spellman. I’d just read the text, so I didn’t have to hover too long over any answers. It had taken me a little longer than usual, though, because I’d had to read the chapter twice. It was complex and a lot was covered in twenty pages. I wouldn’t be doing extra assignments to get advanced course credit, though, if I hadn’t prepared myself for the class to be tough. I wanted a shining first semester report card with good grades next to challenging courses.
Even though Khloe and I weren’t doing anything but homework, I was grateful and happy that I wasn’t doing it by myself. If Khloe hadn’t been open to my weekend confession, tonight would be very different. The vibe in our room couldn’t have been more relaxed from our easy chatter to the soft lighting to the vanilla-cupcake-scented Yankee candles that burned on our coffee table.
Focus! I reminded myself. I dove back into my worksheet, determined to finish as fast as possible so we could get to the fun stuff.
“Done, done, done!” Khloe sang. I jumped, almost knocking over my cup of jasmine green tea.
“You scared me!” I said, shaking my head and smiling at the same time. “Somehow I don’t think Ms. Utz would have given me extra credit if I’d turned in my paper doused with green tea.”
“Sorry!” Khloe said, hiding a smile. She closed her books and started shoving them into her bag. “You close?”
“I . . . am . . .” I kept scribbling “. . . done!”
I hopped up, steppi
ng over to Khloe to high-five her. “Mani time!” I said. “Let me pack up too.”
I put each hardback and several workbooks into my book bag. The ones I’d use first in the day went into a small canvas tote with the United States Equestrian Team crest on it. I’d learned to distribute the massive weight of the books between two bags. I zipped up my binder and stuck it inside my backpack.
I finished cleaning off my desktop and putting away my pencils, calculator, and extra notebook, and plopped onto the rug next to Khloe.
“Thanks for grabbing everything,” I said. Khloe had pulled out our plastic bin of nail polish we’d stored together, cotton balls, polish remover, and each of our nail kits.
“No prob. I have no idea what color I want,” Khloe said.
“Me either.”
We looked into the plastic tub, staring inside at the rainbow variety of colors. I pushed aside a couple of bottles and saw iridescent OPI lavender.
“Do you like this?” I asked Khloe, holding up the bottle.
“Love,” she said. “It’ll be pretty with your hair and eyes. Smart to go light, too, because no one will see the chips.”
“Very true. Then this is it.” I smiled. “What about you?”
“I think . . .” Khloe picked up a shimmery teal shade from Essie. “Does this look mermaidlike?”
“Definitely very Ariel. That’s such a fun shade.”
“Yay! That’s just what I wanted. I love our colors.”
We unzipped each of our nail kits and got to work on maintenance. I swiped polish remover over my nails to remove any traces of possibly-still-lingering polish, then squeezed cuticle oil onto my nails and rubbed it in. The oil’s scent made me relax, and when I blinked, I realized how heavy my eyelids were.
You’re not ninety! It’s only 9:45. I rolled my eyes at myself.
“How was your lesson?” Khloe asked. She had an orange stick in one hand.
“Great. Mr. Conner took us back to the basics with cavaletti. Whisper really had to think about where she was stepping.”
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