Show Jumper

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Mom, I’ve just got to get some sleep,” Lisa said firmly, interrupting her mother as she continued to list the occupants of the VIP box. Although she was glad her mother was having fun at the Macrae, she just wasn’t interested right then in hearing about all the society people who were attending the show. She wanted to focus on her riding. After saying good night, Lisa hung up the phone and crawled into bed.

  Carole emerged from the bathroom, wearing her pajamas and looking refreshed. “That felt great!” she said. “I could sleep for a week.” She got into the other bed and turned out the light. Then she sat up again. “Stevie,” she said firmly, “we’ve all got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. No more television.”

  “What did you say?” Stevie said absently. She was watching an infomercial advertising an exercise device that claimed to make muscles bulge.

  Stretching out on her bed, Lisa joined the argument. “Television off.” Stevie ignored her, too. Lisa sat up and looked at Carole, who nodded.

  After a brief pillow fight in which Lisa and Carole stormed Stevie’s cot and tickled her to get her to let go of the remote control, the television was turned off. Grumbling, Stevie turned out the last light and crawled under the covers.

  The room fell silent for a few minutes. Then Carole spoke into the darkness. “I’m kind of having butterflies about tomorrow,” she said softly. “I know Starlight will do well, but I’m the one who has to lead him over those fences. It’s sort of terrifying, isn’t it? All those people watching you. All those good riders we’re competing against.”

  Hearing Carole’s words, Lisa felt reassured. Carole had been to several major horse shows before, but maybe Mrs. Reg’s story about the scared rider was true for all riders. Maybe nerves helped people do better than they normally would. “I have the jitters, too,” she said comfortingly.

  Oddly enough, though, she wasn’t nervous at all. The sick feeling in her stomach seemed to have vanished completely. It’s all about having the right horse, one you’re confident is a real winner, thought Lisa. Maybe she wasn’t the best rider, but privately, Lisa thought Samson might very well be the best horse.

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” said Stevie in a confident tone.

  “Why, do you know something we don’t?” Carole asked.

  “Yes,” said Stevie in a near whisper. “I didn’t want to tell you guys this, but I’ve been using the secret HorseMaster on Starlight and Samson.”

  “What’s the HorseMaster?” asked Lisa, giggling.

  “It’s my new invention,” said Stevie, imitating the obnoxious voice of the infomercial announcer. She turned on the lamp near her cot and stood on her bed, holding a hairbrush as a microphone. “It slices and dices vegetables, whips up your favorite shakes, and makes ice cream. It plays twenty-seven songs, and you can program them in random order. It’s made of genuine plastic and Styrofoam, and best of all, my invention makes horses fly like birds. No jump is too big for horses who have used my HorseMaster!”

  By now Carole and Lisa were starting to giggle. Stevie went on for another five minutes until a firm knock was heard at the door.

  “Girls!” Mrs. Reg’s voice called sternly. “Time to get to sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” They heard her walk away.

  Once again the three girls snuggled under their covers. Five minutes later, just before they dozed off, Lisa and Carole heard Stevie whisper something. “What did you say?” asked Lisa.

  “I said,” Stevie repeated, “seriously speaking, you’ll do great tomorrow. After all, you’ve got the greatest tack manager in the world.”

  Lisa and Carole fell asleep, smiling.

  LISA’S DREAMS THAT night were more like nightmares. On the first course she and Samson rode, she took all the jumps in reverse order. However, the judges felt sorry for Max for having such an embarrassing student, so they agreed to let her try again. On her second attempt, she had a clean round because she and Samson walked clean around every jump!

  Morning, when it came, was a relief

  “Girls, are you up?” Mrs. Reg called, knocking on their door.

  In the bed opposite Lisa’s, Carole sat up and stretched. She grinned at Lisa happily. “Yup,” she answered Mrs. Reg. “We’ll be ready in half an hour.” She looked over at Stevie, who was still curled up in a mound under the covers, with only the top of her head showing. Carole threw a pillow. “Hey, Tack Manager,” she said. “Up and at ’em!”

  The mound wriggled once, and then Stevie sprang up out of her cot. “I’m ready to go,” she said briskly. “Who’s got first shower?”

  The group had agreed to wake up at six in the morning and be out the door by six-thirty. Lisa played Stevie in Rock, Paper, Scissors for first shower and won. Stevie began organizing their gear to take over to the show grounds. Carole washed her face, brushed her teeth, and braided her hair. The room suddenly seemed extra crowded with all the activity.

  Lisa took a shower and scraped her hair into a hasty ponytail—she could always braid it before the event at the show grounds. She scrambled into her barn clothes and grabbed the garment bag holding her riding clothes. She had checked her clothes the night before to make sure they were still unwrinkled and fresh. When she had seen the pink jacket, she had cringed inwardly, remembering Carole’s words about the USET members. But what could she do now? It was too late to get a new jacket—or even an old one.

  While Stevie was dressing after her shower, Lisa went to the window and pulled the shade aside to check on the weather. Gorgeous sunbeams poured over her. The sky was a clear blue with puffy white clouds.

  “What a beautiful day!” she said.

  “No blaming any mistakes on the weather,” said Carole, also taking a peek outside.

  Because Carole had showered the night before, the girls were ready to go after Stevie had dressed and marked off items on her Saturday checklist. “Lisa, do you have your riding clothes?” she asked.

  “Check,” Lisa said breathlessly.

  “Carole?”

  “Check,” answered Carole.

  “Okay,” said Stevie. “I checked over the tack last night before we left, so that’s all set. I’ve got the sewing kit to baste your numbers on your backs, I’ve got extra hair spray and other beauty items just in case, and I’ve got the lint brush for your clothes. I think we’re all set!”

  The three girls joined Max and Mrs. Reg in the van. Mrs. Reg suggested they stop for a quick breakfast on the way. At first the three girls protested, saying they had to get to the stable and check on their mounts. “You need a good breakfast to start off your day,” Mrs. Reg said serenely, “otherwise you’ll look like a sack of potatoes sitting on top of your horses. We have plenty of time. Max has already been over to the show grounds to feed and water the horses.”

  When they got their food, Stevie grinned at Mrs. Reg. “Thanks for insisting that we eat,” she said. “I can’t believe I wanted to skip breakfast!” She dug into her French toast and bacon and ordered a chocolate milk shake to go, insisting that she needed the energy the sugar would provide.

  Lisa could barely choke down one slice of toast. She was starting to get that queer, sick feeling in her stomach again, just like the day before. An unwanted memory came into her mind; she tried to push it away but couldn’t help remembering anyway. Lisa had competed in a big horse show once before—Briarwood. She had asked Max if she could enter with Prancer, and Max had expressed reservations, saying that neither horse nor rider was ready for such a big show.

  Because of Lisa’s hard work and practice, she eventually won the argument. In a way, Lisa had been ready, but her horse hadn’t been at all. Although she was a Thoroughbred with smooth gaits and a sweet disposition, Prancer also tended to be flighty and hadn’t received enough training to overcome that in a big show. The pair had done poorly; in fact, Prancer had been disqualified, and Lisa had expected an “I told you so” from Max. But he had only patted her shoulder afterward and said that all riders and horses needed experience
in horse shows, good and bad. Experience was what she wanted out of this one—but only good.

  Lisa was quiet as they drove to the show. But when they pulled up to the grounds, she saw the morning sunshine illuminating the show rings and the flags and banners of the show waving in the breeze. Suddenly she felt a bit better. Yesterday all the flags, banners, and balloons had been for someone else. Today they were for her—and for Carole. Suddenly it wasn’t just the Macrae. It was a place where they were going to compete and show what they had learned, for better or for worse.

  When they arrived at their horses’ stalls, Lisa was pleased to see that Samson was alert and frisky after a good night’s rest. As the girls got busy grooming their mounts for their big day, Lisa remembered her weeks of training on Samson and how easily he had taken every jump.

  She began to whistle confidently. This show, she felt sure, was going to be different from Briarwood. At Briarwood she had taken a horse that wasn’t ready, but today she had the horse that was everyone’s dream.

  IN THE STABLING area, the three girls gave Samson and Starlight a special grooming and braided their manes and the dockles of their tails. They oiled the horses’ hooves until they were shiny black. They gave the tack a last-minute polishing, although they had spent hours cleaning the equipment before loading it onto the van. As Stevie went off with Max to collect their numbers, Lisa checked over Samson—his bridle, the girth on the saddle—one more time. The junior jumping division was scheduled to begin at eleven o’clock that morning.

  In the middle of Lisa’s and Carole’s preparations, they heard someone calling their names. Turning, the two girls saw Mrs. Atwood hurrying toward them with a big smile on her face.

  “Here you are!” she said when she reached them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

  Where else would I be? Lisa asked in silent irritation. Taking a nap? Doing my hair? After all, her mother knew she was due to go on at eleven o’clock, and the stabling area was a natural place to look for riders making final preparations. But Mrs. Atwood knew so little about riding and horse shows that she had no idea what mattered and what didn’t.

  As her mother gave her a big hello hug, however, Lisa’s irritation vanished. Wasn’t she about to ride a dream horse in one of the biggest horse shows of the year? Her mother couldn’t help it if she wasn’t interested in horses. Lisa knew lots of nice people who weren’t interested in horses and riding, and her mother was the nicest of them all. And besides, she was lucky that her mother was there to give her encouragement and clap for her.

  She smiled at her mother. “You look like you’ve been having fun, Mom.”

  “Oh, it’s been heaven!” said Mrs. Atwood. “I could go on and on about the people I’ve seen and met. The people here are so much more sophisticated than our little Willow Creek crowd. But look, honey, you’re not even dressed in your riding outfit. Let’s go off into the van and I’ll help you put on your beautiful new red coat.”

  Carole was checking the saddle on Starlight, but at Mrs. Atwood’s last words she looked up, startled, and watched Lisa and her mother disappear into the Pine Hollow van. Had she heard correctly? Obviously Mrs. Atwood had meant “pink coat.” But surely Lisa knows better than to wear a pink coat, she thought. No experienced junior rider would wear a pink coat to a horse show.

  Then she gaped as Lisa emerged, wearing the red coat. Lisa had a slightly sheepish smile on her face. “What do you think, Carole? It’s part of my brand-new riding outfit.”

  “It’s—It’s—” stammered Carole. She looked at Lisa helplessly; then she looked at the coat. She wondered if she should mention the mistake and wondered why Lisa had agreed to buy a pink jacket. Then she noticed Mrs. Atwood’s beaming, proud face, and she knew that Mrs. Atwood had persuaded Lisa to get the coat. “It’s nice,” she said finally with a weak smile. She just couldn’t say anything in front of Lisa’s mother.

  Maybe I can get Lisa alone later and have a private talk with her, Carole thought. But how would that help her now? she then asked herself, frustrated. She knew that despite Lisa’s confidence in competing on a horse like Samson, she was also sensitive about her riding ability and vulnerable to criticism. Why should Carole point out Lisa’s mistake during such a major competition? Knowing Lisa, the high standards she set for herself, and how much she worried about things like school and the Macrae, it was sure to destroy her self-confidence. Lisa would be furious at herself for making such a silly mistake and wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her riding. It wasn’t as if it was a rule. It was a tradition. People might be surprised, but she wouldn’t lose points or anything important.

  Stevie returned with their numbers. “Here you go,” she said cheerfully. “Carole, you’re number eighty-five, and Lisa, you’re—” She stopped and stared at Lisa’s pink coat. “Hey,” she began in a surprised voice, “do you realize you’re—Ow!”

  Carole had unobtrusively pinched Stevie on the arm to stop her from commenting on Lisa’s jacket, and Stevie, ever quick to grasp a situation, finished, “Uh, do you realize that you’re number forty-four? That’s, like, my favorite number! I think that my favorite, uh, football player wears number forty-four.”

  “You watch football, Stevie?” Lisa asked distractedly. As the time for the jumping competition drew closer, she was starting to feel nervous again. She took the number from Stevie and began to baste it onto her jacket with needle and thread, but her hands were shaking too much. Finally Mrs. Atwood took the number from her and finished the job.

  “No,” Stevie said lamely, “But I’ve got favorite players.”

  As soon as she could, Carole pulled Stevie into a nearby stall. “I thought I should get you out of there before your lies got too weird,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Stevie said gratefully. “I got the message to keep quiet about that pink jacket Lisa’s wearing, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.”

  Carole nodded. “I know,” she said. “Lisa obviously didn’t realize what a tradition she’s breaking. There’s no official rule, but I thought everyone knew only members of hunt clubs and USET members who compete in the hunting division wear pink jackets. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, though. Someone must have convinced her to try on the jacket and Mrs. Atwood finished the job, also not knowing any better.”

  “We can’t let her go out like that,” Stevie said decisively. “We have to tell her the truth.”

  “No,” said Carole, shaking her head. “I’ve thought about that, and what would it accomplish? This is Lisa’s first big show since Briarwood, and we all know how bad she felt about asking Max to let her go, even though she didn’t do that horribly there. Prancer just wasn’t ready. But Lisa needs all the confidence she can get. She’s a great rider with a terrific horse, and if we pointed out the jacket mistake to her now, she’d just die of embarrassment.”

  Stevie listened to Carole’s argument, nodding slowly. “You’re absolutely right,” she said. “And anyway, what does it matter? In the junior jumping division, you can wear a baby blue jacket with pink spots on it and the judges can’t fault you on it. It’s the jumping that counts.”

  “Well, they might try to fault you on poor taste, but I don’t think they’d succeed,” said Carole, laughing. The two girls made a pact not to say anything to Lisa and hurried off to catch Max and warn him about the jacket.

  IN THE WARM-UP ring, the competitors in the junior jumping division—including Margie, Belinda, and Melinda—circled their horses slowly through different maneuvers. Stevie and Max stood off to the side and called out commands to Lisa and Carole for gait changes and other moves.

  Lisa, riding Samson, tried to concentrate on the serpentine across the ring, but she couldn’t help glancing at the other riders, especially Margie, Belinda, and Melinda. She noticed Margie’s horse prancing nervously. Was that the sign of an eager jumper? Then she looked at Melinda and saw how calm her horse looked. Was he just reserving his energy for the competition?

  Lisa also n
oticed, when looking around, that a lot of riders were staring at her. In fact, one rider across the ring on a dapple gray horse almost lost a stirrup because she was looking so persistently at Lisa and Samson.

  Lisa looked down at Samson. Maybe they were all staring at her because her horse looked so handsome. Samson was a big, coal black horse with a well-shaped head and long legs—and today his coat shone brilliantly from the morning’s lengthy grooming. He stepped confidently and looked every inch a champion. Lisa couldn’t believe she was riding such an impressive-looking mount. She knew looks didn’t really matter—what counted was the horse’s talent and disposition—but all the same, she couldn’t help being proud of Samson’s appearance. And she knew that unlike some horses, Samson could definitely live up to his looks with his talent.

  Carole also noticed the looks that other riders were giving Lisa, and, wincing, she realized that Lisa’s jacket was attracting a lot of attention. In fact, she could clearly make out a simper on Margie’s face. But thankfully, no one was saying anything, and as Carole looked over at Lisa and Samson, she felt sure that Samson’s talent would make everyone forget Lisa’s pink jacket. Well, almost forget—it was pretty hard to miss.

  Samson and Starlight went through the warm-up beautifully. Lisa and Carole each felt her confidence increase as her horse responded smoothly to her aids.

  As they finished warming up, Veronica appeared with Danny, a second person who seemed to be a hired groom for Danny, and a third person who was obviously her weekend coach for the Macrae. Veronica didn’t seem to notice how late she was and appeared to be arguing with her coach about something. The Saddle Club and Max ignored her.

  With Stevie at his side, Max signaled Lisa and Carole to come and gather near him. “Now, we’ve been over this before,” he began. “Today, Saturday, is the first round—the qualifying round. Only twenty riders will make the second round tomorrow. With the number of competitors in this event, that means—”