The Canterwood Crest Stable of Books

by Jessica Burkhart

  Eric put his hands over his eyes. “The Pliohippus?”

  “Yes.” I sighed. “That’s correct.”

  Eric reached out a hand and high-fived me. I giggled and sat back in my seat.

  “Let’s keep going,” I said. “I’ll read now.” I wasn’t ready to go back to my lonely room just yet.

  8

  AND BEST ACTRESS GOES TO…

  MR. CONNER’S CLINIC, DAY 2

  HOURS SINCE CALLIE LAST SPOKE TO ME: 42

  MR. CONNER MADE SURE THE RIDERS DIDN’T waste one second of daylight during his clinic.

  “Is it really seven in the morning during break?” I asked Heather.

  “Unfortunately.”

  We led our tacked-up horses down the aisle. Heather and Aristocrat went to their group’s class in the arena and Charm and I headed to the outdoor arena.

  We walked by Black Jack’s stall. Callie stood outside the door, texting. Again.

  “Hi,” I said, making the effort.

  Charm stopped and stretched his neck toward Jack’s stall. Jack stuck his head over the door and touched noses with Charm.

  Callie looked up and shoved her phone in her pocket. She’d done her hair a new way—a loose ponytail with the ends curled. It looked pretty.

  “Whatever,” she said.

  I sighed, pulling Charm forward. She was never going to listen to me. And neither was Jacob. Whatever was right.

  Once we got outside, I pulled on my red itchy wool gloves and zipped up my coat. The temperature hovered around forty degrees and the brightening sky was stark and cloudless.

  Aaron, Violet, and Cole were already in the arena warming up their horses. Charm and I took a spot behind Aaron and Rio. We walked and trotted while we waited for Miss Cho.

  Hoofbeats rang out over the yard and we all turned toward the sound. Jasmine and Phoenix cantered away from the stable and through the arena entrance. Did she ever give that horse a break? She fell into line behind Violet.

  We rode in silence, except for the occasional snort from one of our horses, until Miss Cho walked into the arena. She looked pretty and professional in her sage-colored breeches, lace-up brown boots, and fitted black coat.

  “Morning, everyone,” she said. “If your horses are warmed up, let’s get right to work. Today, I want to concentrate on flatwork. Please dismount.”

  Cole eyed me with a what? face and I shrugged. We all dismounted and stood beside our horses.

  “We’re going to play horse swap,” Miss Cho said. “Cole, you take Aaron’s horse. Aaron, you get Violet’s. Sasha, take Jasmine’s. Jasmine, you’ll grab Charm. Violet, ride Cole’s horse.”

  I bit back a groan as I handed Charm’s reins to Jasmine. She was the last person I wanted to hold my horse.

  Charm watched me as I walked away with Phoenix. The gray blew a friendly breath into my hand and leaned into me as I stroked his shoulder.

  “Aw, you’re a good guy, aren’t you?” I asked Phoenix. He was nothing like Jasmine!

  Once everyone finished swapping horses, we turned back to Miss Cho.

  “All right, please mount your new horse and walk them until you get a feel for how they handle.”

  But! No! I didn’t want Jasmine on my horse—especially after seeing the way she yanked Phoenix around and used her boots as weapons.

  But before I could say no, Jasmine was in Charm’s saddle. I noticed that she didn’t even look to see if Phoenix was comfortable with me. I swung myself into Phoenix’s saddle and walked him over to Charm. While we mounted, Mike and Doug set up five white skinny poles with weighted bases down the center of the arena.

  “He has a really soft mouth,” I told Jasmine. “He’s sensitive to leg commands, too, so you shouldn’t have to—”

  “I know how to ride!” Jasmine said, shaking her head at me. “Besides, I’ve seen you ride him and whatever you’re doing is definitely wrong. I can’t wait to see how he does with a real rider.”

  If she even dared to kick Charm…

  “Is everyone used to their new horses?” Miss Cho asked.

  We nodded.

  “Good. Then move your horses back to the arena entrance. We’re going to be pole bending.”

  “Wait. Pole bending?” Violet sputtered. “Isn’t that Western?”

  Miss Cho adjusted the striped scarf around her neck. “Yes, it is. But pole bending is excellent for balance. It teaches a rider to maneuver a horse with their seat and legs, instead of heavy hands. Ready to get started?”

  “Yes,” we said in unison. I wouldn’t take my eyes off Charm until Jasmine dismounted.

  Forty-five minutes later, the lesson was over and we had swapped back to our own horses. Phoenix, calm under me, had been a perfect ride. I’d covered my eyes when Jasmine and Charm started their turn, but Jasmine knew just how to weave Charm through the poles.

  “See? I didn’t hurt your precious horse,” Jasmine snipped, leading Phoenix away.

  I hugged Charm and led him toward the exit.

  “Not bad,” Violet called to me.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I hope I’m as good as you are when I’m in eighth grade.” I crossed my fingers that Violet wouldn’t think I was a suck-up.

  Violet pushed back her helmet and eyed me. “You better be.”

  She walked away before I could ask what she meant.

  After Charm was cool, I untacked him, refilled his hay net and headed to the grain room for a session with Mr. Bright.

  Cole, Aaron, Violet, and Jasmine were already in the room. I stood next to Violet and we watched as Mr. Bright finished pouring bran into five measuring cups.

  “Welcome,” Mr. Bright said to us. He looked the most relaxed of the instructors in khakis and Wellies. “Have any of you ever cooked for your horse before?”

  Jasmine snorted and the rest of us shook our heads.

  “Then you’ve been missing out,” Mr. Bright said. “Proper nutrition is especially important to your horses in the winter months. Since it’s almost spring, we want to feed them well to get them ready for spring shows, clinics, and other events.”

  He motioned for us to come closer to the wooden counter between us. “We’re going to make hot bran mash for your horses. This is simple, and you can make it once a week if you like, as an extra treat.”

  OMG, Charm was going to love this! He’d probably never want another cold meal again.

  “We’re not going to make a full serving until we see if your horse likes it, but it’ll be enough to teach you how to make it on your own,” Mr. Bright said. “Each of you needs to grab a bucket.”

  I picked up a red one and put it in front of me.

  “Now, pour your cup of bran into the bucket.”

  Jasmine covered a yawn. Cooking for Phoenix must have been low on her interest scale.

  Mr. Bright put a tray of Thermoses on the counter. Steam rose from the holes in the lids. “Carefully pour hot water over your bran and then stir with one of those wooden spoons.”

  I poured and started stirring. The bran started to soak up the water and it expanded in the bucket.

  “Everyone okay?” Mr. Bright asked.

  We nodded and kept stirring.

  “While you stir, let’s talk about last night’s reading assignment,” Mr. Bright said.

  He could ask me anything—I was ready!

  “Who can tell me when cave drawings of horses started to appear?” Mr. Bright asked.

  Jasmine stared into her bucket and started stirring harder. Cole and Aaron looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Around thirty thousand B.C.,” I said.

  “Yes, thank you, Sasha,” Mr. Bright said. “Can anyone name one of the oldest horse breeds in the world?”

  Silence. But I knew this—Eric had asked me this exact question last night.

  I raised my hand slowly. Everyone was going to hate me for being Miss Know-It-All, but I’d studied hard.

  “Sasha?” Mr. Bright asked.

  “Arabians are one of the oldes
t breeds,” I said. Thank you, Eric.

  Jasmine glared at me and Violet stopped stirring to look at me.

  “Correct again. Since no one else appears to have read the assigned material, I’ll stop with the questions for now. After my session, I’ll need Cole, Violet, Aaron, and Jasmine to go back to your dorms, read the chapters and come by my office before six to answer some more questions.”

  Jasmine huffed under her breath. I hid my smile and kept stirring.

  Mr. Bright put a bowl of grated carrots in the middle of the counter.

  “Everyone, take a handful of carrot and put that in your bucket. Then stir again.”

  I waited for Violet to grab her carrots before I took mine.

  “Does anyone know why hot bran mash is good for most horses?” Mr. Bright asked.

  Violet raised her hand and Mr. Bright nodded to her.

  “It warms them up on cold days and it has lots of fiber,” Violet said.

  “Good, Violet,” Mr. Bright said.

  The grain room warmed from the steaming buckets of mash and the ends of my hair started to curl from the humidity. At least I hadn’t messed mine up yet. I’d have to thank Paige later for giving me cooking confidence!

  “Last step,” Mr. Bright said. “Measure a couple of spoonfuls of molasses and stir that into your bucket. The mash will be warm when you serve it, but it cannot be hot. So, we’ll have to let it sit for a few minutes after we’re finished.”

  Mr. Bright put an almost empty bottle of molasses on the table and frowned. “That’s not enough. Let me look in the cabinets and see if Mr. Conner has a new bottle in here.”

  He walked to the end of the grain room and rummaged through the cabinets. Finally, he came back with an unopened bottle and handed it to Jasmine. “Go ahead and measure yours.”

  “Mr. Bright?” Cole asked. “I think my mash looks…weird.”

  Mr. Bright moved down the table to Cole’s blue bucket and looked inside.

  Jasmine unscrewed the cap on the bottle and shifted her bucket over, knocking my handbook off the table.

  “Oops,” she said, tilting her head. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t look sorry,” I muttered. I leaned over to pick up my book. Then something…sticky dripped on my neck and oozed onto my hair.

  I gasped and straightened. I swiped at my neck and came away with a gross brown blob of molasses!

  “Jasmine!” I screamed. “What’s your problem?”

  Jasmine grinned and folded her arms. “Oh, no, Sasha! I’m so clumsy today.”

  Mr. Bright hurried over and looked at us. “Girls! What happened?”

  Jasmine’s smile faded and she put a hand to her forehead. “Mr. Bright, I’m so, so sorry. I…” She sat on a stack of grain bags along the wall. “I have low blood sugar sometimes. It has been especially bad today. I’ve tried to hide it because I don’t want to waste one day of learning. But when I went to pour the molasses into my bucket, I got dizzy. Sasha was bending down beside me and I accidentally spilled it on her.”

  Wow. Jasmine’s acting skills put Heather’s to shame. Jasmine turned to me, her bottom lip quivering. “I’m so sorry, Sasha. I’ll dry-clean your coat or something. Anything! I just feel terrible.”

  Gag me. I looked at Mr. Bright—there was no way he could believe her.

  “Sasha, you may be excused to go get cleaned up. I’ll make sure your horse gets his mash.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “Jasmine, you may also leave to go see the school nurse,” Mr. Bright said. “We need to make sure that you’re all right.”

  “Okay, Mr. Bright,” Jasmine said in a faint tone.

  She started to ease herself up off the grain bag and practically limped to the door.

  “And Jasmine?” Mr. Bright said.

  She turned back. “Yes?”

  “I think it would be best if you skipped riding the rest of today. Stay with the school nurse until you’re well and then please go back to your dorm. You can use that time to read and study. Jumping would be too dangerous for you today.”

  Ha! I smiled at Jasmine.

  She mashed her lips together and slammed the door on her way out. Her limp had vanished. Shocker.

  Mr. Bright winked at me. “Go change,” he said.

  I grabbed my handbook off the floor and practically skipped back to Winchester.

  9

  CLICK

  IT TOOK TWICE THE NORMAL AMOUNT OF strawberry smoothie–scented shampoo to get the molasses out of my hair. When I finally got it out, I put on a pair of fresh breeches and a green and gold Canterwood hooded sweatshirt. I quickly fastened my molasses-free hair back into a French braid.

  On a whim, I turned on my laptop. I checked my e-mail and stared at my empty inbox.

  Suddenly, I had the overwhelming urge to e-mail Jacob. I’d tried calling him several times now, but every time, I chickened out.

  I got up and paced around my dorm. It seemed easier to write an e-mail than call, but what if it only made things worse? I refreshed my browser. Zero unread messages. I wished Paige was around. She would know what to tell me.

  I finally bit my lip and started typing. If I got done and decided not to send it, I wouldn’t have to. There was no harm in just typing it, was there?

  Dear Jacob,

  I’ve wanted to talk to you since the Sweetheart Soirée, but…I don’t know. I guess, honestly, I haven’t tried that hard. I’ve been too afraid that you’d walk away again or would ignore me or something.

  Part of me kind of thought that you’d e-mail, or text, or call me, and I wouldn’t have to. Yeah, I know—most of this was my fault because I believed Heather over you. And I should have talked to you more when I was worried about Heather to begin with. I didn’t.

  But you could have told me that you did school stuff with her sometimes. I know you’re not a mind reader, but you knew Heather and I didn’t get along. You also could have at least given me a chance to apologize.

  So I guess I’m just really sad that we don’t talk anymore. I wish we did! I had so much fun with you and, you know, liked you. Okay, I’m finally saying it: I. Like. You. A lot. And I thought you maybe liked me, too. If you want to talk, maybe you’ll e-mail me back. I hope so.

  ~Sasha

  I reread the e-mail at least a hundred times. It was what I’d been wanting to say to him for forever. I just never had the guts to do it. And now that I had, it felt really good.

  I saved the e-mail to my drafts folder, but left it open on the screen. Should I send it? I meant every word. And if he didn’t want to e-mail me back, he didn’t have to. Then I’d know it was definitely over and at least I’d tried.

  I moved the mouse over the send button. I got up and walked the length of the room.

  “Just send it,” I said to myself. “Press the button and send it.”

  I made another trip back and forth across the room before I stood over the computer.

  Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the mouse, hovered over send and closed my eyes. Click.

  I opened one eye and looked at the screen.

  Message sent.

  The e-mail was gone. I couldn’t take it back. My feelings about Jacob were out there now.

  I slammed the laptop closed, grabbed my handbook off my bed, and plopped on my bed and started reading. That lasted all of about five minutes. Maybe I could check my e-mail…

  I opened the laptop and pulled up my e-mail. Zero unread messages.

  Yeah, that would have been awful fast. Back to reading. But soon, the words on the page blurred and every other word looked like Jacob.

  10

  MEET THE BELLES

  MR. CONNER’S CLINIC, DAY 3

  MINUTES SINCE I E-MAILED JACOB: 1,320

  WEDNESDAY MORNING WAS PERFECT. JUST Charm and me. The students had the morning off. By “off,” Mr. Conner meant grooming horses, cleaning tack, or mucking stalls. I didn’t mind—I was glad to spend time with Charm.

  My phone buzzed—a t
ext from Eric. Mr. C trying 2 kill me. Making me alphabetize horse meds & vitamins.

  I started laughing and texted back. Ugh! Sorry.:(

  I smoothed the body brush over Charm’s glistening chestnut coat and flicked the last bit of straw off his leg. I knelt down and lifted his foreleg to check his hoof for dirt. Clean.

  Boots tapped down the aisle and stopped beside me. I looked up. Violet’s hair was styled into soft waves and the lack of horsehair on her clothes suggested she hadn’t touched a horse all morning. I ran my fingers through my messy hair and smiled at her.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “You almost done?” she asked.

  “Yeah…do you need the crossties?”

  Violet reached around me to pat Charm. “No. Meet me in the hayloft in ten minutes.”

  She was gone before I had a chance to ask why.

  Charm went eagerly into his stall, hungry after being away from his hay net for thirty minutes. I put his tack box away and took my time walking down the aisle.

  I looked around to be sure Mr. Conner or one of the other instructors wasn’t watching. The aisle was clear. I climbed the wooden ladder up to the hayloft and almost bumped into Callie. She looked at me, and not in the I-still-hate-you kind of way.

  “Hey,” I said.

  Callie opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Julia and Alison jumped up from the hay bale they’d been sitting on and walked behind Callie.

  “What do you want?” Alison asked.

  “I just said hi to Callie,” I said.

  “Well, don’t,” Julia said. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Obviously.”

  “Move!” a voice said behind me.

  I jumped out of the way as Heather came up the ladder. She shook her head when she saw Julia, Alison, Callie, and me. “Why are we here?”

  “I’ll explain,” said Violet as she and two other girls walked out from behind the massive stack of hay bales. “Have a seat.” She motioned for us to sit.

  “These are my friends, Brianna and Georgia,” she added. “We’re on the eighth-grade advanced team.”