Initiation

by Jessica Burkhart

  Clare shifted almost as if she was unsure who to stand closer to—Khloe or Riley. Khloe and Riley’s eyes were locked. Both girls were smiling, but I’d been around enough competitors on the A-circuit to know what was going on.

  This was Psyching-Out-the-Competition 101.

  “You sure did,” Khloe said. Her mouth smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And you were great.”

  Riley put a hand over her heart. “Aw, thank you, Khlo. But remember, you were so close to getting the lead. Too bad I’m so healthy. As my understudy, you would have gotten a chance to be onstage if I’d gotten sick. Maybe next time! We’ll see each other this Friday at auditions, right?”

  Clare cleared her throat, giving Riley and Khloe a smile. “And I’ll be in the wings silently cheering you on.”

  Riley shifted to lean against Ever’s stall. “And Lauren, you’ve got a big day tomorrow. Omigosh, are you so nervous?”

  “About what?” I asked. I wasn’t going to let this girl scare me.

  “Testing for the riding team. You did know about it, right?”

  I nodded. “Of course, and—”

  “Most riders practice all summer before they come here,” Riley said, cutting me off. “And they barely make the beginner team.”

  “I’m glad I trained so hard, then,” I said. “I’ll just have to do my best and see what happens.”

  Riley nodded. “Anything can happen during testing. Advice?”

  I wasn’t going to turn her down. But that didn’t mean I’d believe every word she said.

  “Sure,” I said cautiously. “I could use any tips you’ve got.”

  “I was so nervous at my testing last time,” Riley said. “Mr. Conner is super nitpicky, he looks for any little mistake. I never get rattled, but I did during my testing at the most important part.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Jumping,” Riley said.

  It took every ounce of control I had not to drop to my knees.

  I’d been working hard—so hard—since my secret accident. The one I couldn’t even think about. The one I couldn’t even start to remember when I had so much to master at Canterwood. But Riley had shaken me with one word.

  Jumping was how it had happened.

  Stop thinking about it, I told myself. Not in front of these girls. Not in front of my potential new teammates.

  “Oh,” I said, keeping my cool. “I like jumping, but dressage is my specialty.”

  Riley gave me a tiny smile with a sour hint about it. “At Canterwood, everything better be your specialty.”

  Clare’s eyes shifted between Riley and me like she wanted to save me. “Riles, let’s go see if Adonis’s stall is ready, ’kay?”

  Riley nodded and gave Khloe and me a little wave. “Later.” Riley paused, looking back over her shoulder. “And Khloe, can’t wait for Friday.”

  The two girls disappeared down the aisle. I waited for Khloe to speak. I didn’t want to be the one to say something wrong if I’d completely misjudged the dynamic.

  “Ooomiiigod!” Khloe shrieked.

  SWEET TREATS (OF MANY VARIETIES)

  I JUMPED, LOOKING AT HER. HER HAND WAS across her forehead. “She’s trying to take over everything ! Riding and acting.”

  “So . . . I’m guessing you and Riley aren’t BFFs?”

  Khloe leaned up against the stall door. “It’s a really uncomfortable situation. Clare is my best friend and Riley is her other best friend. Riley and I have been competing against each other for years—everything is about mind games and winning for her. I’ve tried to put it aside for the sake of my friendship with Clare, but Riley’s even competitive about that.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said. “Clare seemed so nice. And I can tell that Riley’s a little . . . territorial.”

  Khloe rolled her eyes. “Don’t let her psych you out—I noticed that she didn’t waste two seconds trying to scare you about tryouts.”

  “Is jumping really what I should focus on?”

  “Riley lied. Everything’s equally important to Mr. Conner,” Khloe said. “I have no clue why she said jumping was so important, but she knows better.”

  Just hearing Khloe debunk Riley’s advice about jumping being key slowed my racing heart. She was right— Riley was just trying to psych me out!

  “Thanks, Khloe,” I said. “So . . . you want to stop talking about someone you don’t like and come meet Whisper?”

  Khloe’s eyes sparkled. “Definitely.”

  I shook Riley off with every step toward Whisper’s stall. Once we were just steps away, the mare poked her head over the door.

  Her brown eyes widened when she saw me. My entire body felt warm. I’d never loved anything as much as I did Whisper. Just knowing something that special was mine made me feel incredibly lucky.

  “Oooh, Lauren! She’s so beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” I grinned. “We haven’t been partners for long, so we’ve got a lot of work to do. But I love her.”

  I stroked the mare’s cheek while Khloe scratched under her forelock.

  “How did you find her?” Khloe asked.

  Khloe had spoken the magic words. There was nothing I loved to talk about more than Whisper.

  “My old riding instructor, Kim, knew someone who had a good reputation for buying and selling horses. I tried a lot of horses before Whisper. None of them were right for me. I was so worried! I didn’t even know if I’d find the right one in time for school.”

  “That had to be a ton of pressure on top of starting Canterwood,” Khloe said. She was a great listener. She listened just as enthusiastically as she spoke.

  I nodded in agreement. “I was really down about it— worrying about finding a horse, questioning my decision to even come to Canterwood, even whether I was doing the right thing by leaving my boyfriend.”

  Khloe held up a hand. “Stop. Right. There.”

  “What?” I said, laughing.

  “You said boyfriend. I know you just met me, but you don’t mention a ‘boyfriend’ to a girl and expect not to have a bigger conversation about that. You’re so not getting away with dropping that detail. We’re so having that convo later!”

  I giggled—I loved Khloe’s honesty. “Deal,” I said. “But you have to spill in return.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Khloe asked, grinning. “Let’s go to The Sweet Shoppe—a place you will get to know very well—grab dessert, then go back to our room. We can talk boys, compare class schedules, and maybe do some unpacking and decorating?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I gave Whisper a final pat and we started down the aisle.

  Khloe waved to a bunch of people on our way out. She seemed like the It Girl of the stable. But not in a way where everyone was afraid of her or sucking up because they felt like they had to. The people who flashed smiles at us seemed to genuinely like Khloe.

  A feeling of giddiness and relief swept over me. I couldn’t have gotten luckier with my roommate.

  We walked across the clipped lawn and up the sidewalk toward The Sweet Shoppe.

  “Just a sec,” I said, stopping to pull out my BlackBerry. “Photo op,” I explained to Khloe.

  I snapped a pic of the Shoppe and sent it to Chatter, writing, So adorable! I think this will be my fave hangout spot. J, as the picture’s caption.

  “This place is the best,” Khloe said. “They have killer desserts and they change with the seasons. Right now, it’s slushies and ice cream.”

  “Point me toward the slushies!”

  The Sweet Shoppe was cute and old-fashioned- looking with a blue and white awning. A sign hung above that read THE SWEET SHOPPE in scripty font. Khloe pulled open the door for me.

  “After you, dah-lin’,” she said.

  “Why thank you, mademoiselle,” I said, smiling. Khloe kept surprising me with her theatricality. I loved the way she laughed at herself and never took herself too seriously.

  It made it easy to like her.

 
; Inside the shop, there were blue and white booths, white tables with blue chairs and, in front of us, a glass counter filled with rows upon rows of cookies, with slices of cake and pie underneath. Behind the barista was a soft-serve ice cream machine and containers of sprinkles. A half-dozen slushie machines swirled different colors— pink, red, blue, green.

  I peered at a chalkboard menu to see if I was actually reading it right.

  “If that really says ‘watermelon,’ you might never get me out of here,” I said.

  Khloe laughed. “It does. Wait till you try their peach mango! If you ask for a flavor guide, the baristas give you one that shows how different combos can be made by mixing flavors. I got pineapple-strawberry once and it was ahh-maze.”

  “Ooh, yum.”

  Ahead of us, a guy in boots and breeches waited off to the side for his order. His short, shiny black hair contrasted with his blue eyes—a deeper blue than my own. His skin was pale and flawless and a charming smile came easily to his face when he accepted a blue slushie from the barista.

  Our eyes connected for a moment before he passed Khloe and me, as he headed for the door.

  Chills.

  Not that I was exactly ready to start looking at guys. Even though this one was cute. Very cute. Still, it was too soon after my ex-boyfriend, Taylor, and I had mutually agreed to break up when I left for Canterwood.

  Khloe turned, looking back behind us, then stared at me openmouthed.

  “Lauren!”

  “What?” I said innocently, though I could feel my cheeks burning.

  Khloe eyed me warily. “You are so crushing on Drew! Look at how red you are!”

  I shook my head as we stepped up to the counter. “Who’s Drew? And no, I’m not crushing on anyone— named Drew or otherwise. Remember? I told you I left a boy to come here.”

  “Yeeeaaah.” Khloe’s eyebrows went up. “That conversation is starting the second we get to our room.”

  She looked so serious that I almost laughed.

  SPILLING SECRETS

  “START TALKING,” KHLOE SAID THE MOMENT our door closed.

  I giggled. “Okay, okay.”

  We kicked off our shoes and Khloe sat in the middle of her bed, her back resting against the wall. I got on my bed—eyeing my box labeled bedding—and stretched onto my stomach.

  “At home, I dated a really sweet, amazing guy for about five months,” I said.

  Khloe leaned forward, taking a giant sip of slushie. “Name?”

  “Taylor,” I said.

  She squinted her eyes. “That’s a good name. What does he look like?”

  “Short blond hair, gorgeous green eyes, tan. Some freckles on his face. He’s a swimmer.”

  “Cute!” Khloe said. “Love jocks.” She looked at the ceiling. “And freckles . . . ah-dorable. Continue.”

  “He and I were both athletes,” I said. “So he understood why I needed to practice riding so much. He always asked about my lessons and we talked about his swim meets, too.”

  Khloe gave me a soft smile. “He sounds amazing.”

  Just thinking about Tay made my chest hurt a little. I could almost smell the chlorine-slash-peppermint mix of his hair as if he was sitting in the room with us.

  “He’s totally amazing,” I agreed. “When I found out about my acceptance, we sort of . . . froze. Neither of us wanted to break up, but we wanted the best for each other. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, ‘the best’ wasn’t staying together, hardly seeing one another.”

  Khloe made a sad puppy face and I cleared my throat and sat up a little straighter. What was my problem? I’d been fine about the way Tay and I had left things. Hadn’t I?

  “Long-distance relationships,” Khloe concluded, “never work out. You did the right thing.”

  “He deserved to have a chance to date someone he could actually go out with. And he wanted the same for me.”

  Khloe sipped her slushie. “Wow. Not many guys would be that mature. It sounds like he really, really cared about you. It’s probably hard being away from him?”

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding. “But breaking up was the right thing to do. One hundred percent. Which doesn’t mean I can even think about him being with another girl yet. We decided to stay friends and had a fun summer hanging out. I can’t not have him in my life.”

  “OMG, it’s just like Pretty in Port Royal,” Khloe gasped, clasping her hands. “Lovers forced to be away from one another because of distance. A boy and a girl secretly wanting each other, but agreeing to be friends instead.”

  I shook my head, biting back my smile and taking a deliberately loud sip of my drink.

  Khloe flopped on her back, her hand across her forehead. “Taylor will be away at Yates thinking about his quote—friend— unquote ex-girlfriend at Canterwood. Then, he’ll see you over Skype and he’ll want you back. Old flames will ignite—”

  “ ‘Old flames,’ ” I repeated. “You really should audition for a soap. Like, right now. That was exactly like a script of a two o’clock drama.”

  “Seriously!” she insisted. “He’ll want you. You’ll want him. But wait . . . a Canterwood guy will be sure to start paying some attention. Probably more than one—but there will be one you like back,” Khloe continued. “Then you’ll be torn between a long-distance relationship or a . . . Hot. New. Fling.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I laughed. “No relationships. No hot new flings. Break,” I said, saying the last word slowly. “I haven’t been single long enough to even think about other guys. And no way are Tay and I getting back together. I’m happy. He’s happy. The end.”

  “For now.” Khloe giggled.

  “I think it’s time the tables get turned.”

  Khloe sat up straighter and tucked stray blond locks behind her ears. “Ask me anything.”

  “Okay, what about you? Any boyfriends past or present?” I asked.

  Khloe kicked her slushie with one last, long sip. “Over the summer, I met a guy through our mutual friend in Boston. Neither of us let it get too serious, though, because we both knew I’d be going back to Canterwood in the fall and that he’d leave for his own boarding school in North Carolina.”

  “What about Canterwood guys?” I asked. “No big crush on anyone or an ex I should know not to like, out of solidarity?”

  “Hmm . . .” Khloe rested her head in her hand. “I used to like this one guy in my theater class, but he didn’t feel it. He just looked at me as a theater partner.”

  “What makes you so sure?” I asked. “It was a theater class after all. Maybe he was covering his crushing by acting like you were just a friend.”

  “No way. We ran lines, we had scenes together—if he liked me, I’d have known. Plus, he had plenty of chances to ask me out.”

  “Does he know you’re interested?”

  “Well, I’ve been kind of subtle . . .”

  “You?” I asked teasingly. “Khloe Kinsella, we may have just met—but already, I can say with certainty that there is not a subtle bone in your body.”

  Khloe laughed until tears ran down her face and I raised my now-empty slushie cup to her. “A toast to the fact that we live in the now,” I said. “It’s not 1940, which means we don’t have to wait for guys to ask us out. We are totally in control of our own destinies.”

  Khloe hopped off her bed and knocked her cup against mine. “Exactly. This year, we control our own fate. It’s like our secret roomie pinky-swear. Deal?”

  “Deal!”

  Khloe knelt down in front her zebra-print suitcase. “And now that the roommate bonding has been sealed with a slushie, the not-so-pleasant task of unpacking shall commence.”

  When she unzipped her suitcase, it burst open like a clothes volcano. I couldn’t believe how many things she’d gotten to fit! She must have had to sit on top of it to get it zipped shut.

  As I opened each carefully wrapped and labeled uber-organized box on my side of the room, Khloe opened a couple of her own boxes. After a flurry of rippe
d tape and tangled box flaps whirled on Khloe’s side of the room, she finally emerged from a tallish box on top of her bed with a handful of purple hangers.

  “I learned my lesson last year,” she said. “It’s best to try and unpack everything before classes start. Decorating, too. Once we’re thrown into school tomorrow, we’ll have almost zero free time.”

  “On it,” I said.

  I had to admit, no matter how chaotic Khloe’s packing and unpacking might have seemed, there was a definite method to her madness. This clearly wasn’t her first time moving around either. Because no matter how well I’d organized every item of mine that I’d packed, or how methodically I unpacked, Khloe and I appeared to be going at the same pace.

  Mostly, we worked in a comfortable silence, only stopping to admire each other’s stuff or ask each other the occasional question.

  I worked my way through box after box—finally getting to the pièce de résistance—the oversized box marked bedding. I slid the scissors under the tape and carefully cut an opening along the top of the box. I pulled out my pale blue sheets, matching pillowcases and, finally, inside a thick plastic bag, my brand-new comforter. It was my favorite color: a tropical shade of blue with a gorgeous pink and white argyle print. It was the most gorgeous comforter I’d ever seen and I was so excited to use it!

  I arranged alternating cotton candy shades of blue and pink throw pillows on top of my comforter that matched perfectly. Then, I folded up a white plush blanket and laid it at the foot of the bed. The cozy blanket was a fave of mine—perfect to read or study under.

  I stepped back and looked at my new bed. I was proud of the bed I’d picked out. The look was preppy, but the colors and texture of the throw pillows gave it a girly-but-not-too-girly feel. Just like me. I’d put together a bed that was the perfect reflection of me—athletic and not afraid to speak out, but also a girly-girl who loved fashion magazines and style icons like Audrey Hepburn and Jackie O.

  “Wow!”

  I had been so deep in concentration that when Khloe squeaked, it literally made me jump. I searched Khloe’s expression, trying to figure out what she was thinking. She was staring at a spot just past me.