The headmistress nodded to acknowledge Kit’s manners, but she said, “I didn’t invite you to tea to discuss sandwiches. Their size, their taste, or anything else for that matter.”
Of course not, Kit thought. There was only one thing on Lady Covington’s mind, so Kit came right out with it. “I’m happy to report that I did, in fact, ride TK.”
“Sitting on top of an animal to pose for a photograph does not a rider make. Do you imagine that every child who has ever sat on a pony at a birthday party is a rider? Everyone who has perched atop an elephant or a camel at the zoo?”
Kit knew Lady Covington better these days, so she was ready for such a remark. “I actually trotted around the ring on him,” she stated proudly.
“But according to the schedule,” said Lady Covington, pronouncing it shedyool, as the English did, “you should be way beyond that. Where is the problem? With you? With the horse? With your equestrian tutor?”
Kit struggled to maintain her new sense of proper behavior. Lady Covington had just handed her a perfect opportunity to bad-mouth Elaine! But the fact was: “Elaine’s a good teacher.” It was the truth. And it was only right for her to continue with another truth: “TK and I are just kind of on our own sked.”
Lady Covington graced Kit with a tight smile. “Congratulations! I didn’t realize that you and TK had been appointed headmistress of this institution.”
That much raw sarcasm knocked the wind right out of Kit’s sails. What could she say to that?
Lady Covington remained unrelenting. “You will ride in the House Cup.”
Kit almost choked on her tea. “What? But that’s a huge deal! Everybody’s already talking about it. Elaine’s made stat sheets! I can’t see how TK and I are going to be ready to compete.”
“Well, get ready. This is an official show. It will greatly impact your BSEA standing.”
With so many clubs and leagues and associations in England’s world of competitive horsemanship, Kit still couldn’t get all the names straight. Her confusion must have shown on her face.
“The British Schools Equestrian Association,” explained Lady Covington patiently, “and yes, it is quite as important as it sounds.”
“Oh. Right.”
“You wouldn’t want to let your housemates down, would you? If you fail, Rose Cottage will lose the cup.” She paused long enough that Kit opened her mouth to start flailing out an excuse. “And as you know,” the headmistress continued, neatly cutting Kit off, “U.K. Boarding School of the Year is our goal. This will help get us there. But if you can’t meet this goal, TK will have to go. It doesn’t make sense to keep a horse that can’t compete.”
Kit couldn’t have sipped any more tea if she wanted to. Her throat was squeezing itself shut. No matter how many times she had heard this threat and managed to overcome it, this was her last chance with TK. She could feel it. Lady Covington had had enough, and if Kit and TK did not perform well in the House Cup, Kit would lose him. End of subject.
Lady Covington was not totally heartless, however. She gave Kit a smile. “Have a lovely afternoon,” she said.
Yeah, right. Slurp some tea, munch some tiny sandwiches, and oh, by the way, you have to do the impossible or your life will spin down the drain. Kit tried to smile back as she said, “Yes, Lady Covington.” She stood and headed for the door.
Lady Covington wasn’t finished. “Don’t forget your bag. You might need it later if you get hungry.”
“Oh, yeah. For sure.” Kit grabbed her leather tassel purse, then stopped. She got that sinking feeling she got whenever her dad caught her doing something sneaky. “Wait, how did you . . .?”
Lady Covington turned away. “Good afternoon.”
Busted, Kit thought as she closed the door behind her. So why did she let me get away with snagging those treats? She’s so confusing! When she turned around to head for the main corridor, she met yet another confusing sight: Will. He was apparently waiting to see the headmistress.
Their eyes locked.
Will broke the stare first.
Reining in her disappointment, Kit hurried on her way. As she headed for the student lounge, she made a decision. I am going to stay cheerful, she thought. Even if it kills me. I will not let Lady C get me down. TK and I will work hard to be ready for the cup, we will do a spectacular job, and everything will turn out sunny-side up. I will not accept any other outcome, so there! She imagined herself sticking her tongue out at the headmistress — not disrespectfully, but in a playful manner, like she did with her dad. It was her way of saying, “I accept your challenge, so look out!”
Feeling better, she opened the heavy oak door of the student lounge. “I don’t know how Lady C does it,” she said, grabbing a chair and plopping down at the table where Anya, Elaine, and Peaches were studying together. “I waited until she excused herself,” she went on, pulling a bundle wrapped in a cloth napkin from her bag, “but she still somehow busted me on making a doggie bag.” Kit unwrapped the bundle, presenting a pile of pilfered tea munchies to the girls. “The scones are to die for.”
She expected them to ooh and aah over the booty and dive in, but Anya and Peaches glanced at Elaine first as if waiting for some kind of permission. Oh, good grief, Kit thought.
As if Elaine had heard the thought, she glowered at Kit. “It’s scone. Pronounced like gone. Which you should be after stealing all that.”
Kit shrugged. “Don’t eat it if you don’t like it. But you-snooze-you-lose on the chocolate shortbread, lady. I had to sit through a boring hour of blah, blah, blah! I’ve earned it.”
As if that signaled a green light, Anya hungrily took a piece of shortbread. Elaine, however, defended tradition by stating, “Tea with the headmistress is a privilege.”
Kit was ready to quip, “It’s a snore fest,” when Anya asked her, “What did you talk about all alone with Lady C? World events? Languages? Oh, I know — history!”
“What?” Kit laughed. “Nah. I blabbed on about how to break your jeans down to the perfect shade of worn. Eventually Lady C fell into a deep sleep, so I drew a mustache on her face with a marker and jumped out the window!” If only, she thought.
Anya’s eyes grew big and round. She almost dropped her shortbread.
“I’m kidding,” Kit told her before her naive roomie had a heart attack. “We talked about — what else? Me riding TK.” Her voice dipped at that last part. No! Do not let it get to you! Stay light and peppy, light and peppy!
Anya unsuccessfully hid a wicked grin behind her hand. “Is it wrong that I secretly wish you’d done the mustache thing?”
“If it’s wrong, I don’t want to be right!” Kit said. Okay, I might as well get it over with. Remember, light and peppy. “Oh, and Elaine?” she added. “I’m apparently competing in the cup.”
Elaine’s pale skin grew a shade paler. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“You wish.” I wish. The whole school is going to wish! But I’m not joking. Kit mentally gritted her teeth. Keep up the light and peppy — don’t lose it now! “Toss me a tart,” she said brightly to Anya. She expected more snark from Miss Perfect, but Elaine suddenly jumped tracks.
“You know, Kit,” she said in a helpful tone, “it would be rude not to invite Lady Covington to a reciprocal tea. You really must.”
Kit studied Elaine’s face. Was she serious? Kit had never heard of students inviting the headmistress to tea, but maybe it was one of those weird English etiquette things she hadn’t heard about yet. Feeling lost, she turned to Anya for guidance.
Startled, Anya’s eyes darted from Elaine to Kit, back to Elaine, and then back to Kit. “Oh! Uh, it’s quite definitely the proper thing to do,” she finally told Kit.
“Okay,” Kit said with a shrug. “I’ll text her.”
Kit could almost feel the jealousy radiate from Elaine in hot waves. “Wait — you’ve got Lady Covington’s phone number?”
Kit grinned. “No. But I have a sense of humor.”
Elaine slowly
got up and collected her things. “Or you could send her a proper handwritten invitation,” she suggested. “From Rose Cottage as a whole.”
Kit liked that idea. The more, the merrier! Anything positive to take her mind off Lady C’s threat and Will’s guilt and her own anger and — Oh, why did you have to think of that? Stop it! Pull yourself together! “All right,” she told Elaine. “Cool! Yeah, let’s do that!”
If only Kit knew what happened once Elaine and Peaches left the room.
“I’m a titch confused,” Peaches said. “Why are you helping Kit?”
“I’ve got goals,” replied Elaine. “I deserve access. Why isn’t Lady Covington taking a special interest in me and my riding?”
Peaches paused. “How do you want me to answer that?”
Elaine faced her henchwoman straight on. “If Kit gets special treatment, I’m going to use it as an opportunity.”
Josh barged into Will and Nav’s dorm room. “Have you seen Will?”
Nav was lounging in a deep leather reclining chair that was so polished it gleamed like glass. His legs were up, and an open textbook was in his hands. “Not today,” he said. “He was up and out the door before morning bells.”
Josh made a point of shutting the door behind him and then stepped over a pile of clothes on the floor. As usual, Will’s belongings lay strewn haphazardly all over his side of the room, while Nav sat in spotless splendor in his half of the room. “Dude, he confessed! To the Guy crime thing!” As if the weight of the news had worn him out, Josh sank down on the messy unmade bed. “He went right to Lady C, and right to her face, dude, he just totally told her! To her face!”
Nav snapped his book shut. “Why would he do that? We said we’d all take responsibility!”
“It’s like she controlled his thoughts. She’s like twelve evil masterminds all rolled up into one terrifying lady package!”
Nav shook his head. “He must have gotten caught somehow.”
“Pixie told Winston, who told Cooper, who told Anya, who told me,” Josh said. “Will got a ton of extra duties.”
“Oh,” said Nav thoughtfully. “I bet I know why he confessed.” He got up from the recliner, removed the pair of satin slippers from his feet, and grabbed his riding jacket from its hook by his dresser.
“Dude, is this room, like, twice as big as the rest of them?” Josh asked, but Nav just strode past and left, slamming the door.
Josh stood alone. “It is nice in here,” he said. He put on Nav’s comfy slippers and decided to take a test nap in the reclining chair.
Kit finished tacking up TK for a ride, which hadn’t been easy. Will had offered to help, but she was still so angry with him that she’d flatly refused. This had resulted in him barking things like, “Better tighten that girth!” and “Noseband’s crooked!” and “Stirrups look too short!” every time he walked by, which he did way too often considering he was supposed to be mucking out stalls. She was grateful when Nav showed up.
“Katarina,” he greeted her, using the nickname he had apparently just bestowed upon her. “Great to see you. Are you going for a ride? Prince and I would be happy to join you.”
“I wish,” Kit said, “but I have another inspiring training session with Elaine.”
“Perhaps we could ask Lady Covington if I could step in for Elaine,” Nav suggested.
Kit felt a stirring of hope. “Do you think she’d go for that?”
Will strode past, a shovel angled over his shoulder. “Not a chance,” he commented, disappearing around the corner.
Kit frowned as Nav said, “He may be right, but that doesn’t mean you and I can’t go for a ride sometime.”
“Not without a chaperone!” came Will’s voice two stalls down.
Kit ignored it. “That sounds great,” she told Nav, “but right now, I’ve got to go.”
Nav nodded. “Let’s be sure to arrange a ride together soon.”
Kit watched him go, patting TK’s neck. Maybe Nav was her secret note writer, she thought. He was always trying to help her, so it only made sense. It was kind of cute how he pretended to know nothing about it, and yet just now he’d called her Katarina with that amazing accent of his. How romantic!
Maybe he had a crush on her. She grinned.
A half hour later, out in the practice ring, Kit guided TK in a big figure eight while Elaine trotted next to her on Thunder.
Kit had to struggle to keep TK calm because her own mind was buzzing with way too many thoughts: Nav’s riding invitation, her dad’s foot, the House Cup competition, Lady C’s threat, her math homework, the itch on her left big toe that she wouldn’t be able to scratch for at least another half hour, and last but hardly least, the Rose Cottage tea she was planning for Lady Covington. She wanted to tell Elaine about her ideas, but she wanted to pick the right moment.
TK made it back to the start of the figure eight, so Kit gently pulled him to a stop.
“That was a reasonable attempt,” said Elaine.
“Whoa,” Kit responded with a teasing smile. “Reasonable from you? That’s like a triple A plus!”
As usual, Elaine ignored the compliment. “Do not lean,” she snapped.
Kit sat up straighter.
“But do not be inflexible, either.”
“That’s an interesting note, coming from you.”
“What does that mean?” Elaine said defensively. “I’m flexible.”
Talk about a perfect opening! Kit leaped for it, talking quickly to get it all out before Elaine could interrupt. “Oh, good! Because I’m really excited about this brainstorm I had. For the Lady C tea? I’m hoping you’ll be on board with it. I want to do it back-home style, so the cook’s ordering beef for sliders and a ton of lemons for the Arnold Palmers!”
The blank expression on Elaine’s face was priceless. “Okay, look,” she said. “You’re going to have to stop speaking gibberish if we’re going to communicate.”
“Mini hamburgers,” Kit explained, “and lemonade mixed with iced tea! I want to show Lady C that tea doesn’t have to be stuffy.” She knew the idea was pretty far out, but mini hamburgers had to be acceptable, right? Because Lady C’s teas always had mini sandwiches. Mini was mini, wasn’t it? And Arnold Palmers included iced tea, so the tea was there, just cold instead of hot. And mixed with something else. But it was there. It wasn’t like she wanted to serve something totally left field like diet soda and buffalo wings.
Elaine looked like she was going to faint. She dismounted Thunder, seemed to gather herself for a moment, and then said, “Lady Covington’s tea with Rose Cottage is not going to be a hoedown. Beef burgers? Cold drinks? What’s next, banana splits?”
Kit clapped her hands in delight. “That’s a great idea!” Why didn’t I think of that?
“No,” Elaine declared. “No, it is a terrible idea! Clotted cream, finger sandwiches, and hot tea. That is a proper English tea. That is what one serves to a headmistress.”
“A little change never hurt anyone,” Kit said, annoyed now. What was it about being proper that had so many English people caught in such a spell? It was like saying that chocolate could only be served on a white plate in one-inch cubes. Sure, it was yummy that way, but what about chocolate candy bars? And Fudgsicles? And Black Forest cake? None of those would exist if people only ate chocolate on white plates in one-inch cubes!
“Maybe you’re right,” Elaine murmured thoughtfully. “Maybe change is just what we need. . . .”
Will liked working in the stables. Unlike most other Covington students, he enjoyed hard physical labor, and he liked getting to know all the horses, most of which he considered better friends than many of his human acquaintances. Animals made sense to him. Their communications were honest, their needs simple, and their affections uncomplicated. People were so much harder to deal with on all counts.
Today’s case in point: Sally Warrington and her latest food delivery to a certain injured equestrian supervisor.
Will stayed quietly in the corner of the
tack room, pretending to sweep, as Sally tiptoed in and set a cake on Rudy’s desk. As with all the so-called “food” that Sally had made thus far, the cake appeared questionable: dark chocolate frosting with . . . melon slices on top?
He melted farther into the corner when Rudy limped in, using his cane. He seemed to hate that cane. It always put him in a lousy mood.
“Miss Sally,” Rudy said when he saw her.
Will liked the way he called her Miss Sally. It sounded so authentically cowboyish.
“Oh!” said Sally, startled. “Hello! Um, I thought I might just bring you a little treat.” She gestured to her cake, clearly pleased with herself.
Will winced. This wasn’t going to end the way Sally wanted.
Sure enough, grumpy Rudy said, “I don’t need”— he eyed the bizarre cake —“anything. Thanks.”
“Oh. Right, then.” Poor Sally began to stutter in embarrassment. “Should I —? Do you want me to —? Shall I —?”
“Leave it there, please,” Rudy instructed. “And do not bring me another one.” At her hurt look, he added, “I’m not helpless. I can eat in the dining hall like everyone else.”
Will knew how Sally felt. Rejected. He could see it in the way her bright expression slowly crumbled. “Message received,” she said. “Good day, Mr. Bridges.” She wasted no time getting out of there.
Will let out the breath he’d been holding. Sally Warrington was a sweet lady, and Rudy had given her the verbal equivalent of a slap. “That was a bit harsh,” he commented.
“You want to try the cake?” Rudy barked. “’Cause we both know it’s going to taste like hay.”
Oh, yes, he was crabby, all right. “She was trying to help,” Will said.
“Do I look like I need help?”
“Honestly? A little bit.” Rudy glared at him, but Will pressed on. “Point is, I think she fancies you.”
Rudy took that idea with a surprised look. “Fancies me?”
“Yeah. Or, I don’t know, she just feels really bad about what happened. Everybody does.” Considering it had been his fault, Will felt a bit bold saying those words to a teacher, but it was the truth.
Competing for the Cup Page 5
