Gift Horse (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 14) Page 3

  “Thanks Dad,” I said. “Virtual school sounds great.”

  Only Mickey didn’t think so when I texted to tell her that I wasn’t going to be going back to our regular school. She replied that we needed to talk and asked me to ride with her that afternoon. It had been a while since I’d taken Bluebird out on the trail so I figured it would be a good chance to get some fresh air and let him blow off steam and if Mickey got really mad and started yelling at me then I could always kick him into a gallop. After all, Bluebird may have had shorter legs but he was a lot faster than Hampton was on any day of the week.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  We tacked up our horses in silence. I knew Mickey was mad. Her face had that pinched look. Any minute now she was going to start yelling at me and there wasn't much I could really say to make it any better. I was going to miss her too. The only bearable thing about school had been the fact that she was there. We sat together to eat lunch and passed each other in the hallways but she was smarter than I was and so we mostly had different classes. She had things like AP chemistry and AP physics while I’d still been stuck in earth sciences. She was going to get really great test scores and go on to a state university where she’d probably become a doctor or a nuclear scientist or something just like her parents had always wanted for her. I’d be lucky to get into a community college with my grades and I was never going to become anything like a doctor and that wasn’t what I wanted anyway. All I’d wanted my whole life was what I was doing right now and for as long as my body was willing and able, I’d eat, sleep and breathe horses.

  We walked out past the rings, neither one of us saying a word. Faith was out there with her group, riding Macaroni who had recovered from his nasty hoof abscess with no lasting ill effects. Her parents had bought her a neon pink saddle pad for Christmas with matching wraps and the dun pony stood out from the group of other, normal looking ponies. Not that Faith cared about things like fitting in anyway. She wouldn’t have cared if the girls at school were mean to her. She would have just been mean back. Faith had a backbone and I realized for the first time that maybe I didn’t have much of one.

  It was freezing cold out, the high only reaching into the low fifties. I shivered in my thin coat and nudged Bluebird into a trot. His body was warm and I buried my hands in his mane, stealing some of his body heat. We made our way through the woods and out into the clearing where we cantered for a while. Bluebird felt good. Really good. He was coming off a win at the Winter Wonderland show and we’d secured our spot in the Young Riders clinic in the spring. But there were still other shows to go to. In two weeks we’d head off to the Sandman show. We were ready. I knew we were. I was thinking about whether or not Jess was going to be taking Hashtag when Mickey waved her hand, motioning for us to walk.

  “So?” she said as our horses fell into step side by side. “Are we going to talk about this or what?”

  “There is nothing to talk about,” I said.

  “Nothing to talk about?” she cried.

  “Well what do you want me to say?”

  “That you’ll come back to school.”

  I let the reins slip through my fingers as Bluebird stretched his head down and thought of the letter that arrived in the mail saying that I was truant. It arrived in an official looking envelope and was printed on paper that came from the school board. After that I spent a lot of time googling truancy and it turned out that Dad was right. If I didn’t get an education then he would be in big trouble. I would probably end up back with my mom, who had never had a problem making sure I went to school every day, even when I was sick. So virtual school had become a real thing. Dad had already figured out how to sign me up so now I was ready. There was no going back. I explained all that to Mickey but she didn’t seem to care about things like my dad being carted off to jail because of me.

  “What am I supposed to do without you?” she said.

  “We didn’t even have the same classes anyway,” I said. “Except for art, which you only took to spend time talking to me.”

  “That class was fun,” she said.

  “Only you can’t draw to save your life,” I said.

  “And you’re actually pretty good.”

  “Remember that time we were supposed to be sketching the bowl of fruit and yours ended up looking like an alien spaceship?”

  “It did not,” she cried.

  We laughed for a few seconds but it soon faded to awkward silence again.

  “At least we’ll see each other at the barn all the time,” I said.

  “It’s not the same.”

  “I know,” I said. “But can’t you understand? I love this. I feel like I belong out at the barn. I’m going to be going to a lot of shows and if I miss too much school, I’ll get kicked out for good and my dad really will get in trouble. They’ll say he’s not fit to raise me and I’ll have to move to Wisconsin and then you really will never see me again.”

  Mickey looked thoughtful for a second. “That would be bad.”

  “See?” I said. “This way is better.”

  “It’s not fair though,” she said. “I still have to go to school.”

  “Anyone can do virtual school,” I said. “And besides, I still have to do the work. I just do it at home on my computer.”

  “My parents would never let me do that.” Mickey sighed. “Dad is already on my case, telling me that I don’t have enough after school activities to put on my college application. He wants me to join the debate team.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “See, you’ll be having fun too.”

  “No, I won’t. I don’t like to debate.”

  “Yes you do.”

  “No I don’t.”

  We bantered back and forth for a while, the irony of the fact that we were actually debating the merits of the debate team completely going over Mickey’s head until we both broke down into real giggles.

  “Well I guess it’s okay as long as I still get to see you,” Mickey said.

  “You know where I’ll be,” I said. “Fox Run is my home now.”

  “And I guess three horses do take up a lot of time.”

  “Two and a half really,” I said, thinking that the hurricane horse wasn’t exactly a lot of work because I couldn’t really do anything with him.

  “You know, maybe he would act better if you gave him a real name,” Mickey said.

  “Maybe,” I said. “Like what though?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  We spent the rest of the ride bantering names back and forth. You would think that it would be easy to pick out a name for a horse but it wasn’t. It was like naming a baby. Names were forever. I thought of Owen and how easily Missy had come up with his name because she liked Owen Wilson but I couldn’t imagine naming my new horse after an actor or a musician. I wanted his name to mean something, only I wasn’t sure what that was.

  On the way back I hopped Bluebird over some of the cross country jumps. There were a couple of fallen logs and a ditch that he took in stride. Mickey and Hampton went around them. She was perfectly happy not to jump anymore and so was he. Their hunter days were over.

  We were almost back at Fox Run when we saw someone riding a chestnut horse. For a moment I thought it was my father but he hadn’t had time to ride his big jumper Canterbury since Missy had the baby. Instead I saw the white blaze and thick neck of Ethan’s horse, Wendell. He saw us and waved.

  “Oh no,” Mickey said. “Pretend you don’t see him.”

  “I think it’s a bit late for that,” I said, waving in return. “Besides, what’s wrong with Ethan?”

  “Nothing is wrong with him,” she said, trying to straighten her hair beneath her helmet.

  “Then what is wrong with you?”

  “Just forget it,” she growled under her breath as Ethan reached us.

  “Hey guys,” he called out. “I thought I might find you out here.”

  “Yes, here we are,” Mickey said, her voice all high pitched and strained. “An
d now we have to go.”

  “Can’t we ride together for a little while?” Ethan looked disappointed. “I haven’t seen you guys in ages.”

  “Of course we can,” I said. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

  “It was okay,” he said as our three horses walked side by side. “I’m kind of glad it’s over though.”

  “Why? Didn’t Santa bring you everything you wanted?” I said.

  “Mostly,” he said. “But I’m just glad that everything is going back to normal now.”

  I was kind of glad too. Dad and I had already taken down the Christmas decorations in the barn and packed them away. They were fun while they lasted but it was nice to see everything all neat and tidy again. For a few days I felt like I was being suffocated by garlands of fake pine needles and yards of red ribbon.

  “So how is the eventing going?” I asked.

  “Wendell loves it,” he said, patting his horse’s neck. “He has no fear at all. We went schooling at this competition course the other week and there was a water complex. He just jumped right into this giant pond like it was nothing. He was awesome.”

  “I’m glad,” I said. “And Mr. Rivers is good?”

  “He’s excellent. He really knows how to push you, you know?”

  Mr. Rivers was the eventing coach and I hardly ever saw him. He was this wispy man with thick weathered skin and a permanent tan. He seemed to appear and disappear out of thin air and I’d never actually seen him ride a horse. It was rumored that he was chosen for the eventing team in the 1968 Olympics but that his horse went lame and he was replaced, missing out on the team silver medal.

  “Did you find out?” I asked Ethan. “Did he really almost ride in the Olympics?”

  “He won’t talk about it,” Ethan said. “He says the past is in the past and that is where it should stay.”

  “That guy is crazy,” Mickey said. “If I’d almost ridden in the Olympics, I’d go around telling anyone who would listen for the rest of my whole life.”

  “Almost riding in them isn’t the same as actually riding in them,” I said.

  “That’s dumb,” Mickey said. “It’s still pretty cool and who wouldn’t like that kind of attention?”

  “People who are not like you,” I said.

  “Hey,” she cried.

  But she knew what I meant. We were polar opposites when it came to being the center of attention so it was kind of funny that we were best friends. Although it worked out kind of great because she was so happy in the spotlight that no one ever noticed when I faded into the background.

  “Well I’ll see you guys later,” Ethan said. “My group is coming.”

  He pointed to three people on horseback who were riding in our direction being trailed by Mr. Rivers. We waved and said goodbye and that we would catch up with him later.

  “Isn’t it cool?” I said. “That we all found our own riding passions?”

  “I guess,” Mickey said but she had a sort of faraway look in her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I said. “What’s the deal with you and Ethan?”

  “What deal?” she said. “There is no deal. Come on, I’m cold. Let’s go make some hot chocolate in the office.”

  She trotted Hampton away before I even had a chance to reply so I knew that something was definitely up. I’d seen that look on her face before but she usually only got it when she was around surfers or boys that were in bands. She never fell for other riders and she certainly didn’t fall for ones at our barn but she liked him, I could tell. And this was a different kind of like because usually when she liked a boy she was all flirty and silly and this time she was tongue tied and awkward. It had to be the real deal. She had to actually like him instead of just thinking he was hot, which was what she normally thought about all boys.

  I was just about to press her into telling me how she really felt about Ethan but as we trotted into the courtyard I saw a trailer and a group of people standing around.

  “Are you getting a new boarder?” Mickey asked as a chestnut horse was backed out of the trailer.

  “Not that I know of,” I said. “I don’t know what is going on.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  As soon as we got closer, I could see exactly what was going on. There was Mr. Eastford, his hands on his hips as he inspected the new horse and Jess was buzzing excitedly around him. I knew that it was too good to last. Jess used to get new horses almost every month like clockwork but since she’d been working with Hashtag, there had been no new arrivals. They’d been a good team and he had been the best horse that she’d had so far, an impressive jumper with a proven track record. Lately they hadn’t been doing so well but I knew that had more to do with the volatile relationship Jess had with her father than the one she shared with the horse. She just needed to pay more attention during her lessons and stop acting like she knew everything. But Mr. Eastford’s solution to Jess not winning was usually just to buy her a new horse, which it looked like was exactly what he had done.

  “Oh Daddy, she’s gorgeous,” Jess cried.

  “My gift to you,” he said loudly so that everyone could hear.

  The chestnut mare shook her head and looked around at her new surroundings. She was smaller than Hashtag and looked like she’d be handy in a jump off. I wondered what was going to happen to poor Hashtag. Would he be sold off or kept around? I walked Bluebird past Jess’s friends who were all fawning over the new horse and into the barn. Dad was standing there looking mad.

  “I didn’t know Jess was getting a new horse,” I said.

  “Neither did I,” he replied.

  “Where is she supposed to go?”

  “In Fairway’s old stall. We’ll just have to figure something else out when they all get back.”

  A bunch of horses and riders had gone down south to compete in a three month circuit of shows and that meant their stalls were temporarily empty.

  “So they haven’t got rid of Hashtag yet then?”

  “Not yet,” Dad said. “But I’m sure it is only a matter of time. Probably for the best anyway, that horse is too good for her to keep ruining.”

  “And what about the new one?” I said.

  “Not my call,” he said. “Her father has too much money and not enough sense.”

  “But you are her trainer,” I said.

  “Not if she keeps this up,” he replied.

  The mare was paraded into the barn, followed by Jess and her groupies. She looked like a nice horse and I felt sorry for her because she would be the most important thing in Jess’s life until suddenly she wasn’t any more and then she’d be tossed to the side like an old candy wrapper.

  “Where did she come from?” Tulip said.

  “Sandy Wilson’s farm,” Jess said, naming a top jumper rider who trained up north.

  “Wow,” Tulip said, looking impressed. “She must be really good.”

  “Of course she’s good,” Jess said. “Why else would my father buy her for me?”

  The mare was put in the empty stall, where Jess complained that there weren’t enough shavings and insisted that she had two buckets of water even though the mare went straight in and started drinking out of the automatic waterer.

  Henry was the unlucky groom who happened to be working that side of the barn. He walked past with the buckets and I gave him a sympathetic smile since Jess hadn’t even acknowledged him, let alone thanked him.

  I found Mickey in the tack room, going over her bridle with a wet sponge. Miss. Fontain was a stickler about things like cleaning your tack after every ride. I hung my bridle up and grabbed a sponge myself. After all, it seemed like a good habit to have.

  “Did you see?” I asked her.

  “I saw,” she replied.

  “I wish she could just figure out that she didn’t need a new horse all the time,” I said.

  “You can talk,” Mickey said.

  I put down the sponge. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Well you just had to have the hurr
icane horse, didn’t you?”

  “That was different,” I said.

  “How was that different?”

  “Because I was saving him from the slaughterhouse.”

  “But he wasn’t at the slaughterhouse,” Mickey said. “He was at a nice barn with someone who was actually working with him.”

  I stood up, now feeling really offended.

  “So you think he was better off before I got him?” I cried. “That I should have just left him with the woman who was beating him?”

  “She was getting more done than you are,” Mickey said.

  I stood there looking at my best friend, wondering why she was saying these horrible things to me.

  “Why are you being so mean?” I said.

  “I’m not being mean. I’m telling you the truth. What would you say if Jess got a horse that she couldn’t do anything with? You’d make fun of her, wouldn’t you?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Of course you would. We both would. Well what do you think people are saying about you?”

  “I don’t know.” I sat back down. “What are they saying about me?”

  “They are saying horrible things,” Mickey said. “And I don’t like it. I don’t like when people are mean about my best friend but the problem is that I can't say anything because they are right. You can’t do anything with the horse.”

  “I’m trying my best,” I said, my voice small. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “I don’t know,” Mickey said. “But sometimes you think you are this big shot rider who has all this natural talent and that the rest of us just suck.”

  “Why are you saying all this?” I said, feeling sick.