The Canterwood Crest Stable of Books

by Jessica Burkhart

  “Well,” said a voice behind me.

  I turned. A tall girl with dark chocolate brown hair smirked at us. She had little braids woven throughout her hair and wore skinny jeans tucked into black paddock boots. Her eyes were focused on Heather.

  “Heather,” she said. “Wow. I had no idea you were coming here.”

  Heather tilted her chin up a notch. “Well, Jas, it shouldn’t be such a shock. After two summers at Spencer’s Riding School, you must have noticed I was the better rider.”

  Jas smiled. Pale pink blush sparkled on her fair cheeks.

  “Um,” Julia said. “What school are you from?”

  “It’s Jasmine and I ride for Wellington,” Jasmine replied.

  My eyes widened. Wellington was the top boarding school in New York. The school had a reputation for crushing victories in the New York horse show circuit competitions.

  “Don’t be rude, Heather,” Jasmine said. “Introduce me!”

  Heather sighed. “That’s Alison, Callie, Julia, and Sasha.”

  “Where’s the rest of your team?” Alison asked.

  Jasmine stuck out a glossy bottom lip. “They were supposed to be here, but they all got food poisoning last night. Insane, right? So, I had to come by myself.” She smiled without smiling. “Oh, well. I’m here to represent Wellington and I’m sure I’ll be enough for the scouts.”

  Callie and I shot each other a glance. A warning sign flashed before my eyes: KEEP JASMINE AWAY FROM FOOD.

  “This campus is gorgeous, isn’t it?” I asked, changing the subject. “Union doesn’t have any grounds like this.”

  Jasmine froze, staring at me. “No way,” she said. “You’re from Union?”

  “Yeah,” I said, looking at the other girls.

  “Oh, my God.” Jasmine laughed. “What’s your show record? Like, country fairs and cow tipping?”

  “N-no,” I said. “I came to state last year and—”

  “And what?” Jasmine cut me off. “Lost horribly? God, it’s not like Canterwood’s in the same class as Wellington or anything, but at least it’s not a total dump.”

  “Whatever!” Alison said, folding her arms and glaring at Jasmine. “Canterwood is the best school in Connecticut.”

  My feet felt rooted to the ground. I wanted to walk away, but I couldn’t move. I tried to say something—anything. But I couldn’t.

  Jasmine shook her head. “Right. I’m sure you’ll do great today, Sasha,” she said. “I’m sure riding ponies under the circus tents at Union prepared you for—”

  “Shut up and get out of her face,” Heather growled.

  Jasmine’s grin slipped. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” Heather stared into Jasmine’s eyes. “Go harass someone else. You’re being pathetic.”

  Um … was Heather Fox sticking up for me?! Julia and Alison eyed each other; Alison gave a small shrug. Callie looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

  “Fine,” Jasmine seethed. “But you’ll be sorry. I guarantee it.” She smiled at us and dropped back behind Alison. She immediately pulled out a BlackBerry and started texting—probably telling her friends there was an actual Union resident on campus.

  When we finally got up to the check-in booth, it was only a few minutes before our registration was complete. We picked our numbers up off the table, which we’d have to pin those on the backs of our jackets later.

  As the five of us headed back to our trailers, I kept my eye on Callie. I could tell she was more nervous than she’d let on because she was chewing on her thumbnail, her telltale sign.

  “What do you have first?” Callie asked.

  I looked down at my schedule. “Show jumping,” I read. “I’m going to go walk the course.”

  “Right,” Callie said with a nervous smile. “See you later.”

  “I’ve got to walk, so I’ll come, too.” Julia said to me.

  Julia and I were the only Canterwood riders in this show jumping class. We had to walk the course and pace our jumps before our rides.

  We went to the indoor arena and walked inside. Fluorescent lights supplemented the weak sunlight that had begun to light the building. A handful of riders walked the course. One guy trotted from jump to jump and counted the strides under his breath.

  Julia and I walked through the ring’s entrance.

  “Tough one,” I said, getting my first look at the course. It looked more difficult than it had on my diagram. The turns were tighter, the jumps seemed higher and the order of the course seemed confusing.

  “Look at the distance between those oxers,” Julia said.

  “That turn will be tricky,” I said.

  We walked to the first vertical and I counted strides in my head. I’d have to be on my game to get Charm over this course without knocking a rail. The twelve jumps weren’t going to be easy. Julia’s face scrunched as she counted strides.

  “Is something up with you and Callie?” Julia asked.

  “What? No. I don’t think so.”

  “She seems tense,” Julia said, shrugging.

  “I guess she’s just stressed about the show. Maybe it’ll help when her mom gets here.”

  Julia nodded.

  “Are your parents coming?” I asked.

  Julia looked at me as if deciding whether or not she actually wanted to have a conversation with me.

  “My mom is,” Julia said finally. “Dad had to work. Yours?”

  “Both. I couldn’t talk them out of it even if I

  wanted to.”

  “At least your parents want to come,” Julia said. “No one’s coming to see Heather ride.” She clamped her mouth shut. “Repeat that and die.”

  “I won’t,” I promised. “But … can I ask you something?”

  Julia gave me a look like she couldn’t have cared less what I did.

  “After the way Mr. Fox gets on her case, he’s not even coming. Why?”

  “Too busy or something,” she said. “But he sent her new Ariat boots to make up for it.”

  “Oh,” I said. Ariat boots were amazing, but I knew Heather would rather have had her family there cheering her on.

  We made another lap around the course.

  “We should get changed after this,” Julia said when we got to the middle of the course.

  I nodded. “Four, five, six,” I counted under my breath.

  Julia’s phone rang. “Oooh, hiii!” she squealed.

  I whipped my head around to look at her. She didn’t talk to Alison or Heather like that. And then I realized …

  Ben.

  Julia glared at me.

  I walked away, but stayed close enough so I could hear.

  “I miss you, too,” she said. “I will, thank you. I’m going to win for you!”

  I glanced at her, but she ignored me and put her phone in her pocket. Usually, Julia was all business before a show. Maybe Callie should have the you’re-getting-distracted-by-boys talk with her for once.

  “Was that Ben?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  Julia looked at me. “What do you know about Ben?”

  “I know he’s your boyfriend,” I told her. “Was that him?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, it was.”

  “Is he coming to the Sweetheart Soirée?”

  “Of course! We’re meeting there. I told him I’d kill him if he’s late.”

  I laughed. “You probably scared him into getting there half an hour early!”

  Julia and I smiled at each other and we went back to focusing on the course.

  Forty minutes later, we were all changed and ready to tack up. I checked my watch. Mom and Dad would be here soon. Mom had called three times last night to tell me she and Dad were leaving Union early to be sure they got good seats in the stands.

  Julia and I reached our temporary stabling area and split up. I found Aristocrat’s stall before I reached Charm’s.

  I poked my head over the stall guard. Heather was inside, tightening Aristocrat’s girth.

  “He
ather?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “God. You’re always just … there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I just wanted to say thanks,” I said. “For back there with Jasmine.” Heather waited. “For standing up for me?” I prompted.

  “I didn’t do it for you.” Heather pulled down the left stirrup iron. “I just didn’t want anyone on our team rattled. Jasmine can’t beat us!”

  “Whatever,” I said. “At least we agree on one thing—no way can she beat us. See you later.”

  I found Charm’s stall and tacked him up. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket.

  Sasha Silver: I hope you get this text. Didn’t want to call in case it wasn’t allowed. Your mom and I are in the show jumping stands. Love, your dad (Jim Silver)

  Like I had a dad with another name! I giggled at the message. It was obviously the first text Dad had ever sent.

  “Sasha!” Mr. Conner called as I slid two fingers under Charm’s girth and checked it. “You’ve got twenty minutes to warm him up and get over to the show jumping ring with Julia.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Conner,” I said. “We’ll be ready.”

  Across the grounds, Julia led Trix in circles. Her mom, Mrs. Myer, had just arrived. She stood off to the side and watched her daughter, looking comfortable in khakis, a black trench coat, and a sweater. She shared Julia’s tiny build.

  Julia halted Trix and wiped her hooves. Mrs. Myer motioned toward the show jumping ring and after a nod from Julia, walked off in that direction. Mr. Robb—Alison’s dad—had arrived at the same time as Mrs. Harper—Callie’s mom—had and they’d hurried over to watch Alison and Callie’s classes.

  It was a bummer I couldn’t watch Callie, but Charm and I had to prep. I thought about Julia’s question earlier about Callie—maybe it was better that I couldn’t watch her after all. I remembered that she’d always been tense before big shows, but she seemed even more competitive than usual lately. Better to just give her her space today.

  “You can head over to the show jumping stadium anytime,” Mr. Conner told me.

  Charm and I started forward. He pricked his ears and rolled his eyes as he stared at the campus. At Union, most of the grounds were small and packed. The area for regionals was huge. Dozens of rings, eight or nine buildings, and at least five parking lots were packed with people and horses. The cream-colored barns were stark against the winter sky.

  “Julia, I’m heading over,” I said. “You coming?”

  She finished rubbing Trix’s legs with a cloth and then passed it to Mike. “Sure.”

  Julia’s compact mare took short, quick steps and snorted as Julia led her forward. Trix was definitely ready to go!

  We were headed to the arena when Jasmine walked by. She led a rangy gray gelding whose nostrils flared at the sights around him. “Ready to lose?” she asked.

  “Are you?” Julia retorted.

  Jasmine’s horse swished his tail angrily as he passed Charm and Trix, but Julia and I pulled our horses forward and kept walking. Psych-out tricks were nothing new at these shows.

  When we reached the stadium, Julia walked Trix up and down an empty aisle. I bent over to check Charm’s bell boots. Our favorite boots were the glitter jelly ones that came in dozens of colors but, at shows, Mr. Conner didn’t let us use those. Instead, Charm wore plain, boring black. I knew he’d rather be wearing his favorite baby blue ones.

  Mr. Conner strode into the arena and motioned for Julia and me to come over.

  “All right. Julia, you’re on deck first. Sasha is seventh,” he said. Jasmine was riding fourth, so I’d get to watch her ride before I took the course. “Any questions?”

  “No, sir,” I said. Julia shook her head.

  Mr. Conner smiled and put a hand on each of our shoulders. “I’m proud of both of you. Go out there and do your best. You’ve made Canterwood and me extremely proud.”

  My eyes misted for a second as I straightened and dusted off my jacket sleeves. Mr. Conner didn’t talk that way often, so it meant more when he did.

  Julia mounted Trix and rode to the ring’s entrance.

  Regionals, round one: Here we go!

  Julia and Trix waited at the starting line.

  I crossed my fingers that Julia would have a good ride for Canterwood. The bell sounded and Trix cantered forward to the first jump. Trix seemed to glide over the course and Julia handled her with ease. Their time was fast—before I knew it, they only had two jumps left.

  Julia eased Trix before a tall vertical. Trix’s stride shortened too much and she took off a half second late. Her hooves clipped the rail and brought it down behind them—an automatic four faults. Julia didn’t get rattled though. She stayed cool as she got Trix over the final jump. She patted Trix’s neck and relaxed the reins, slowing her to a trot and heading out of the arena.

  “Good ride,” I said, grabbing the reins so Julia could dismount.

  “Not really,” Julia snapped. She hopped to the ground and patted Trix’s neck. “Good try, girl. You didn’t mess up—it was me.”

  I looked back at the course. Another rider was headed for the starting line. No matter what Julia said, Canterwood was off to a good start. I hoped I could do as well as she had done.

  Two more riders completed the course. Both had four faults—just like Julia.

  “Next is Jasmine King riding Phoenix,” the announcer said.

  A bell sounded and Jasmine entered the ring. She pointed Phoenix at the first jump, a red and white vertical, and the gelding took it easily. They cleared the second, third, and fourth jumps without hesitation. Jasmine urged Phoenix forward and let him lengthen his stride before the flowerbox. Phoenix hesitated a stride before takeoff and Jasmine tapped his flank with her crop. The gelding took off unevenly and his choppy takeoff didn’t help his landing. His back hooves nicked the flower box and the plastic rail tumbled to the ground.

  Four faults.

  Phoenix was rattled, but Jasmine did her best to collect him. His ears flicked wildly back and forth. Jasmine tried to calm him with her hands, but before she could get his attention, they were a stride before the liverpool. Phoenix dug his hooves into the ground and slid to a stop. Judges penalized heavily for a refusal. Four faults were tacked onto their score. Jasmine circled him and got him over the liverpool on the second try. Phoenix took the rest of the jumps with ease and Jasmine guided him with confidence.

  On the final vertical, Jasmine’s head snapped up toward the crowd for a second and then she heeled Phoenix into a slow gallop. The course wasn’t big enough to gallop!

  “What’s she doing?” I asked Mr. Conner.

  He frowned and shook his head. “Showing off.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and listened to the quick thud of hoofbeats. I did not want to see an accident on the course.

  Phoenix’s gait was too fast. The horse got excited and fought for rein, causing Jasmine to lose control for a split second. Phoenix vaulted over the fence at an awkward angle. Jasmine yanked harshly on the reins and tried to get him under control, but she was too late. His hooves thunked against the rail and brought it crashing to the ground. Four more faults for a total of twelve for the ride.

  “She got lucky,” Mr. Conner fumed. “She could have hurt that horse or herself. The judges will probably speak with her after class.”

  I nodded. The higher up I moved through the show circuit, the more reckless riding I’d seen. Jasmine hadn’t even been thinking of Phoenix’s safety during that ride.

  She hurried Phoenix through the exit and dismounted, quickly handing her horse off to a waiting groom. Phoenix, exhausted by his mad dash, hung his head as the groom started to cool him. Mr. Conner would never have let us get away with riding like that or not caring for our horse.

  Julia and I watched the fifth rider, a thirteen-year-old on a chunky quarter horse mix, take the course and end with four faults. The sixth horse had trouble at the stone wall and threw her rider. Automatic disqualification.

  To take
the lead, Charm and I couldn’t have any faults. There were three riders after us, so we had to get a low score and a good time.

  Charm stood at the starting line and I leaned down by his ears. “Whatever happens, it’s like Mr. Conner said. I’m so proud of you.”

  Charm grunted and took a deep breath. I tensed in the saddle and waited for our signal. This was it. I kept my eyes off the crowd. By the rail, Mr. Conner eyed the course and then looked at me. He gave me a thumbs up.

  Diiiing!

  The bell shrilled and I urged Charm into a canter. You can do this, boy! I wanted to tell him, but I focused my gaze forward and sat quietly in the saddle. We popped over the red-and-white vertical. Okay, one down.

  Charm cantered gamely toward the second jump—an oxer with white trellises adorned with fake ivy—and we soared over it. The crowd applauded and Charm’s ears swiveled toward the noise. “Pay attention,” I whispered, increasing the pressure on his mouth. He cantered over the verticals, flowerbox, and liverpool. We made a tight turn to take a line of oxers and we headed for the final, and highest, vertical.

  We swept around the turn and a bit of foam from Charm’s mouth splattered his chest. The course designer had been tricky and had put the highest jump at the end, when the horses were tired. Squeezing Charm forward with my legs, I nudged him with my heels and let him quicken his canter to give him more speed to get over the tall red-and-white rails. If we made it over this one, we’d go clean and would have decent chance at placing.

  Five strides away, I counted down. Four, three, two, one, and squeeze! I thrust my hands forward along Charm’s sweaty neck. He launched over the rails and thudded to the ground—landing heavily and almost falling on his knees. If I went over his head, we were done.

  Charm! C’mon! I leaned back in the saddle and tried not to tug on his head. I felt him fight to keep his footing. Charm gathered himself and surged forward.

  Phew!

  Charm’s near fall left me so rattled, I didn’t even know if we’d knocked the final rail or not. Charm cantered out of the ring and he wasn’t even at a full stop before I hopped off his back.