Competing for the Cup

by Bobbi JG Weiss

  Anya decided she might as well accept Elaine’s movie invitation. Kit probably wouldn’t want to talk to her ever again. So the two girls rode back to the stables, removed their horses’ tack, made the horses comfortable in their stalls, and then went to Rose Cottage.

  Elaine plied Anya with questions the whole time, questions about living in the royal palace, about privileges she enjoyed in India — all the things Anya didn’t want to talk about. She also suggested that Anya should pack some things, since Elaine had decided to turn the movie marathon into a sleepover. Anya wasn’t thrilled by that. Watching movies was okay, but she still wanted to talk to Kit privately that evening . . . if Kit would talk to her, that is. But she was trapped now. Worse, she had made the trap herself. And worse than that, she didn’t know how to get out of it. Before she knew it, she was packing pajamas, her toiletries bag, and a few CDs into her tote while telling Elaine about, who else? Prince Harry. She found she couldn’t stop. It was almost a relief, actually, to be talking freely about her home life for the first time since she’d come to Covington. “The gossip pages called my cousin a catch,” she said, “except that he’s a teenage boy, and, well, he smells like a teenage boy.”

  Elaine, comfortably perched on Kit’s bed, listened in rapture. “And he’s in Hong Kong?”

  Anya nodded. “At the International School.”

  Kit had spent the last hour staying away from Anya and Elaine, then had taken care of TK’s needs and headed to her room, where she’d hoped to spend a couple of hours relaxing. That, however, was not to be. For one thing, Elaine was there, sitting on her bed! And Anya appeared to be packing.

  “Don’t mind me,” Kit said loudly upon entering the room.

  Elaine slowly slid off her bed. “Anya was just regaling me with some fab tales from her incredibly glam life.”

  “Oh? I haven’t heard many of those,” Kit responded. To Anya she said, “Don’t let me stop you, Your Highness.”

  The unpleasant vibes in the room were as oppressive as new riding boots, Kit decided.

  “Right!” said Elaine. “Well, I’m going to go get the slumber party all set up. I’ll see you later, Anya.” She brushed past Kit and made her exit.

  That was as much as Kit could tolerate. She went after Elaine and barged into her room. “You don’t think I know what you’re doing?”

  “It matters here,” Elaine said to Kit, as though she were talking to a child. “Who you align yourself with matters.”

  “I don’t care who I align myself with, Elaine,” Kit retorted.

  “Are you sure about that? Because there are advantages to having a friend like her. I mean, this kind of access is half the reason for coming to Covington.”

  “Access?” Kit felt her insides heave at the very idea of talking about people as convenient things.

  Elaine obviously had no problem with that concept. “Who your friends are matters, would you not agree?” she asked in a reasonable tone.

  Put that way, yes, Kit could agree. But there was much more to it than that. “Well . . . yeah . . .” she began thoughtfully.

  Elaine didn’t let her finish. “I guarantee you that, in what — six months? I’ll be holidaying in luxury at some Patel family compound. If you were smart, you’d get back in her good books, too.”

  Outside Elaine’s door, Anya had been listening in on Kit and Elaine’s entire conversation. It was just as she had feared: now that her secret was out, Covington might as well be the palace. She turned and rushed away, because she had heard enough to know that it was time to go.

  Kit was furious with Elaine for implying that Kit would act out of — or even have — ulterior motives. “I don’t care about that! Anya’s my friend because she’s my friend!”

  Elaine shook her head. “Well, remind me to never invite you onto the debating team.”

  “I owe her an apology. And not Princess Anya but . . . Anya.” Kit left, slamming the door behind her. She immediately started back down the empty hallway to her and Anya’s room, but then she paused. I’m too riled up right now to apologize properly, she thought. I need to settle down first.

  She headed downstairs and, finding the Rose Cottage common room empty, paced its length a few times. Not helping! she thought, so she went out the back door and sat in the small courtyard, hoping that some fresh night air would slow her racing heart.

  All I want from Anya is friendship, she thought. Doesn’t she know that by now? Haven’t I proven that? I don’t care if she’s got forty-seven gold crowns and twenty pairs of magic princess slippers! I like her because she’s a nice person! With a growl, she leaped to her feet and took a step to the door. Nope, nope, nope, you’re still angry, Bridges. Sit back down and chill.

  She did, but as the seconds ticked by and turned into minutes, she remained angry. Why? Anya had only protected herself; Kit could see that now. Elaine stood as a glaring example of exactly what Anya had been protecting herself from.

  Thinking about defense mechanisms reminded her of Charlie, the friend she had left behind in Montana when she had moved to England. Charlie’s family wasn’t well off. They lived in a small house with a crooked front door and never enough firewood during the winter. When Charlie had joined Kit for shopping sprees at the thrift store in town, she always knew that Charlie’s purchases were out of need, whereas hers were for style. But they never talked about that, in part because Kit rarely had the opportunity to call him anymore. And furthermore, she knew he was embarrassed about it, because in the sixth grade his whole face had gone bright red when Joey McGillis teased him loudly about his threadbare pants. Kit had wanted to punch Joey square in the face, but seeing how uncomfortable Charlie was made her realize that violence toward others wasn’t what he needed from her. He needed a friend. And come to think of it, so did Anya. She and Charlie may have been on opposite ends of the socioeconomic spectrum, but everyone had struggles and needed someone by their side. She wanted to be that, for both of them.

  She took out her phone. It was still daytime back in Montana, so she texted, Hey, creep! Whassup?

  Hi! came a return text right away. In class, u clown. Algebra barf. Hey r u

  Kit waited for the rest, then burst out laughing. He got caught texting in class! she thought, and laughed harder. I’d better text him an apology later, since it’s my fault. I hope he doesn’t get detention!

  She felt much better, though, just from that goofy exchange and a dose of laughter. It’s time, she thought. It was time to face Anya.

  When she got to their room, it was empty. Not just empty of Anya, but of all her belongings, too. Her nightstand and dressing table were cleared off, her work desk empty of everything but the lamp and vase of flowers. Kit ran to Anya’s wardrobe and yanked the doors open — totally empty.

  “Oh, no,” Kit murmured. “No, no, no, no . . .” She bolted out of Rose Cottage and headed to the practice ring, where she knew Josh and Will were training for the cup. She didn’t particularly want to see Will. Josh was her target.

  As she approached the ring, she heard a mild argument in progress.

  “You signaled him too early,” Will was saying. “Back to the start.”

  “Oh, come on, man,” complained Josh, sitting astride his chestnut gelding, Whistler.

  “This is for the cup, mate!” Will insisted. “Back to the start!” Josh grumbled but obeyed, trotting Whistler back to the end of the ring as Will added, “Remember, your heels are your anchor, your legs are the guardrail, and the engine’s in the back.”

  “Okay, okay! You drive a hard bargain.”

  “And you need to ride harder.”

  Josh guided Whistler over the jump again. Even Kit could see Will’s frown.

  “Look, I’ll do better tomorrow,” Josh said, sounding tired.

  Will pointed at the jump. “There’s still an hour to curfew.”

  “Hey!” Kit called to Josh before the boys could get into a real argument. “Have you seen your pretend girlfriend?”

  �
��Anya?” Josh asked. “Uh, no. I’ve been in here for what feels like decades.”

  Will’s eyes narrowed. “Hey!” he barked, and again pointed at the jump. “Go!”

  With a sigh, Josh said, “Sorry,” to Kit and turned Whistler once again to the far end of the ring.

  So much for that idea, Kit thought. So where could Anya be? It hasn’t been that long. She must have packed her stuff in, like, five seconds, so she’s still got to be here somewh . . . Her thoughts trailed off as she saw her answer, right in front of her at the entrance to Covington’s main building. A chauffeur was placing what looked to be the last bag of several into a limousine’s trunk. “Wait,” she said, then louder, “Wait!”

  Anya appeared and got into the limo’s backseat.

  “Anya!” Kit yelled. “Anya!” She ran for the limo, waving her arms. “Wait!”

  Did Anya hear her? It didn’t matter. The limo drove away.

  It was the big day — the day of the Covington House Cup!

  Kit stood in the tack room with all the other Rose Cottage girls. They were dressed in their competition uniforms, their boots polished, makeup perfect, teeth cleaned, and all of them completely demoralized.

  Anya, one of their best riders, was gone. She had left school.

  For Kit, this wasn’t just a competition problem but a personal disaster. She wanted to be doing what Anya always did when she was upset — hiding in bed under the covers. But her team needed her, and although her abilities weren’t as honed as those of her peers, she was ready to try her hardest.

  Sally Warrington was giving a pep talk. “Now more than ever, we have got to take that cup!” she said. “We need to give Juniper Cottage a kick in the backside, is that clear?”

  Everyone nodded, but they should have been cheering or something, shouldn’t they? The news about Anya was a downer, yes, but as Kit glanced around, she noticed that several girls looked more than upset or dismayed. Several seemed on edge, as if they knew something terrible was about to happen. The feeling in the room was hardly one of energetic team spirit, that was for sure. What was going on?

  Sally pulled back a bit. “No pressure, though,” she said meekly. “We won’t worry about Anya, not today, all right? She’s just fine. She’s chosen to leave Covington. It’s that simple. We’ll miss her, of course, but we’ve got a team of very strong riders!”

  “For the most part,” Elaine muttered, glancing at Kit.

  “That’s enough, Elaine,” said Sally. “Now, girls, are we confident?”

  All Kit could muster was a smile. With what looked like brute determination alone, Elaine and Peaches said, “Yes,” with about, maybe, twenty-percent effort. The rest of the girls just stood there.

  Meanwhile, at the other end of the stables, Rudy was giving a pep talk to the Juniper Cottage boys. “Whose turn is it to take home the Covington House Cup?”

  “Juniper Cottage!” all the boys roared back together. Even with Will out of the competition, they were pumped.

  “Are we confident?” Rudy shouted.

  “Yes! We! Are!” they answered, Josh and Nav exchanging high fives with each word.

  Rudy continued, “You’re riding for league standing against students from all across the U.K.! The house with the highest points takes home the Covington House Cup!” Rudy lowered his voice: “Which I hear is a bit of a big deal.” With a mischievous competitive gleam in his eye, he finished, “Let’s take it back from those girls, huh? Huddle up!”

  Rudy held out his hand, and all the boys stacked their hands on his one by one. They leaned in, vibrating with energy, as Rudy counted, “One! Two! Three!”

  “Juniper Cottage!” they shouted as all hands flew upward.

  “Take ’em down!” Rudy cried, and the boys clapped and stomped. They were ready, all right.

  In the tack room, the funereal silence was broken by Sally’s desperate cry of “The boys are going down!”

  One of the Rose Cottage girls suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth and rushed out of the room.

  “Oh!” said Sally. “Oh, dear. What in the world is happening?”

  Elaine whipped a surgical mask from her pocket and put it on her face. “You!” She turned to Peaches. “I told you not to bring that horrid smoked salmon into the cottage!” She scrutinized the group. “Who else ate the fish?”

  Kit watched as four hesitant hands went up. Yup, those were the same girls who looked unusually on edge. Several of the other girls gasped as the situation became clear.

  Peaches just shrugged. “I ate it, and I’m fine.”

  Elaine was livid. “Why a person would bring room-temperature fish into our cottage on competition eve is simply beyond me!”

  No one knew quite what to do until Sally said in a low, mysterious tone, “This is surely the curse of the missing horseshoe.” She stared at an empty spot on the wall. Kit recalled that a horseshoe had hung there, but it wasn’t there now. Why was it gone? “It happened once before when I was in Fifth Form,” Sally went on as if in answer to Kit’s unspoken question. “It was an unmitigated disaster. Joanie got kicked in the leg, Bet’s horse escaped and was gone the whole day, and my horse, Sadie”— the memory of Sadie made Sally pause to smile lovingly, but then she launched back into her tale —“she stopped right before the jump, and I continued flying over, and I fell in a heap and chipped a tooth.”

  Elaine pulled Sally back to reality. “Respectfully, Miss Warrington,” she said through her mask, “it’s a horseshoe.”

  Two more girls suddenly stumbled for the door, doubled over, hands to mouths.

  “Oh, dear!” Sally despaired. “Oh, no!”

  It was at this point that Elaine pulled a paper from her pocket, stating firmly, “We’ll just have to dip into our list of reserve riders.”

  “Yes!” Sally took the list like a drowning person grabbing a life preserver. “Who do we have? Who else can do the jumpers?” She fought with the paper until it was properly right-side up. “Um, Kiki Welch?” she read out.

  Kit shook her head no to indicate that Kiki must have eaten the fish. She’d been the first girl to leave.

  “No?” said Sally. “Uh, Jilly. Jilly Jones?”

  Also gone.

  Sally muttered, “Poor Jilly,” and desperately went back to the list. “Babe Scarrow?”

  Right on cue, Babe grabbed a nearby trash can and, lowering her head over it, lunged out of the room.

  As Sally looked at a loss, Elaine took charge. “That leaves us with you, Peaches. Tack up for the jumper course.”

  Peaches’s body went rigid. “You know I only do dressage,” she said. “I’m afraid of heights!”

  Kit had seen and heard enough. This clown show had to be set right somehow. So she took a deep breath and said, “I’ll do it!” When nobody said anything, Kit thought, They don’t think I’m capable. They don’t trust me. Well, I’ll show them! “I’ve been practicing,” she told them. “You know I have. It’s worth a shot, right?”

  “Well,” Sally said, looking relieved, “it’s worth a thought, certainly.”

  Elaine was right on cue. “Respectfully, Miss Warrington, it’s worth nothing. I’ve been training Kit — I should know. She’s simply not ready.”

  Kit wanted to protest, but Elaine charged ahead. “Peaches, you are going to eat your fear. Get yourself sorted.”

  Peaches gave Elaine a timid, pathetic look.

  “Now!”

  Peaches scuttled away to get ready.

  Sally said to Kit, “It seems today’s not the day to risk it, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, Kit.”

  Kit tried to pretend that it didn’t bother her, but it did. It bothered her a lot.

  Will felt shattered, as if he were walking around in pieces held together in human form by a hasty tape job. He should be riding today! Instead, his riding skills were going to waste while he handed out programs. He was despondent. And angry.

  Oh, yes, very angry.

  “Hey,” came a familiar voice as Rudy walked into
Covington’s indoor competition ring. “Where were you? You missed my stirring and brilliant pep talk.”

  Will, up in the spectator bleachers, looked down at his riding instructor. “They’ve got me ushering.”

  “You’re still part of my team. We could have used your smiling face in there.”

  Will gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-joking expression.

  “Hmm, well, your could-be-smiling face?” Rudy said. “Your occasionally smiling face?”

  At this point, Will was positively scowling. “Yep, well, this is an important job,” he said scornfully. He held up one of the House Cup program sheets that he was supposed to fold and drape across the back of each spectator chair. “I’ve got to get the corners straight.” He sloppily folded the sheet in half to demonstrate.

  “I’m sorry you’re not riding today,” Rudy told him sincerely. “I wish you were. But you’ll still get your scores for the all-schools league. Just not today.”

  Will lost it. “Right! Yeah! Because riding alone for the judges on the makeup day is just as much fun, isn’t it?”

  “You’d rather ride in front of the crowd,” said Rudy. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah!” said Will. “The horses get excited! And everyone’s cheering! And competing is just”— he searched through his angry thoughts to find the right words —“a thrill! And when do well, it matters! And everyone sees that it matters!”

  There was so much more to it than that, but Will clamped his jaws shut and turned away. Nobody could understand how important it was to him to be out there, contributing his hard-earned talents to the team and competing as a part of something so grand and majestic. Winning was great, it always was, but that wasn’t the critical part. The critical part was that amazing partnership between human and beast, working together within a team to achieve great things. It mattered. It really, really did.

  It mattered to him.