by Emery Skye
"I always thought it would be cool to be home-schooled," Pierce cuts in and I stifle a laugh. Pierce would die if he didn't have an athletic field in his backyard. Then again, for all I know, his parents can buy him his own football team, park it on their personal athletic field and make Pierce the quarterback. No, that's too harsh. Pierce never acts like a spoiled brat and he works hard for what he has. "So, are your parent’s teachers?"
"No," he informs. Caity and I might be the only two confused out of us four. I've never seen Pierce so stone cold.
I see the opportunity to ask my own questions. Maybe with Pierce around, Hunter will feel obligated to answer. "What do your parents do?"
"My mom's a doctor and my dad," he pauses, "he's in politics," he says.
"Really?"
"What exactly do they do?" Pierce asks.
"They..."
"Lexi, how could you not introduce us to your new friend?" Cayla's voice hums. Cayla’s not being a total ass, did she learn a new trick?
Friend is definitely pushing it. "You're a big girl. Introduce yourself." I know it's only a matter of time till Cayla moves in on Hunter.
"I'm Ashley," she steps out from behind Cayla and shoots Hunter one of her cheesy, crooked million-dollar grins as she flicks her long, blonde locks behind her shoulder.
Hunter says, "Nice to meet you," without a hint of flirtatiousness.
Then, he looks from the brats over to me. "Are you done, Lex?"
"Um, I-I guess so." I have conflicting feelings when he directs his attention away from them and toward me. That's like turning down the princess for the maid. I look down at my muddy boots, torn jeans and ripped hoodie. Yep, this butterfly is still at the caterpillar stage.
I'm elated by his complete and utter nonchalance toward them. Like I’m doing backflips-in-my-head excited. Yet I'm sort of hoping that they will take him off my hands. His skin is more luminescent than I remember and butterflies flutter their wings violently beneath my stomach muscles. First, electricity and now, this. Great.
Caity raises a dubious eyebrow. She's knows me well enough to know I'm flustered by Hunter and I can tell she's enjoying my predicament.
"Lexi really shouldn't miss her lunch. We wouldn't want her blood sugar to drop. She can be quite temperamental, in case you haven’t heard,” she whispers the last part. The mock concern is nauseating. She twirls her hair.
"My blood sugar is fine, thank you very much. Cayla, I would hate for you to miss your lunch! You're starting to look a bit emaciated and we know how bad eating disorders can be for a struggling self-involved young lady like yourself." Cayla's brows fuse and her lips twitch slightly. "I mean anorexia is so 90's, isn't it?"
Her whole expression sours. Hey puffy lips purse together to complete the look of appall.
"Can you even see your feet?" She growls. Lame.
I look down to prove a point. "Why yes, I can.”
Pierce chokes a little on his water and gives me one those looks that said, "Oh my god, Lexi. Have you lost your mind?" But I am not done yet. I hand her my apple wedges and add, "Cayla, why don't you have my apple wedges? Apples are good for your complexion.”
I smile brilliantly.
"You know, you're not supposed to give someone food you've ate off. Didn't your parents ever teach you manners?" she taps her chin with a knobby finger. "That's right, your parents never taught you anything. You're like a feral child they left in the wild because not even they wanted you! Actually, didn't you kill...?”
I reach forward to hit her, but Hunter grabs my hand. It's one thing to make fun of me and it's another to bring my family into it. She doesn't know the truth about what happened to them. But the kids here do know I never see my parents and that for some reason they're not in the picture. I wonder what they would think if they knew the truth. I wonder how Cayla would feel about her shit-talking if the truth came out. I have half a nerve to tell her, and everyone staring at me with accusing and scared eyes, but I don't. I'll let them talk shit, I'll let them think the worst of me, because even that is better than the truth.
Caity's displeased, probably with my antics and with Cayla's remark, but doesn't say anything. She frowns upon the fighting.
Hunter seems amused.
"Hunter, we should get going. I have to go to the library before class.” I don't have to go to the library yet. "See you after class," I say to Pierce and Caity absently.
"Yeah, see ya." Pierce smiles at me, but I can tell he's confused and maybe concerned for me. He has a look of worry in his eyes.
"Don't forget to call me later," Caity tells me and I smile at her.
Hunter and I leave the Dining Hall without looking back at the queen bitch and her trusty sidekick.
SIX
"So, I know I'm new here, but isn't the library in that building?" He gestures toward Main Hall and I smile to myself.
"Well, yes. But I have to check on the stables." I haven't been there all day and I miss my horses. I have always loved horses, it's like they're a part of me. I can only go so long without seeing them.
I tell Hunter, "You don't have to come."
"I'm good. Besides, you’re supposed to show me around," he says.
I roll my eyes. Still, I wonder why he would want to come to a smelly stable.
It's my experience that most people who aren't raised around horses find no comfort in being near them.
Hunter and I walk behind the East Apartments and I watch the jet-black steeple of the massive stables come into view.
We continue the dirt path, up the hill and when we reach the top, we can clearly see the white barn. It's a state-of-the-art building; better than the Budweiser stables and I imagine more gorgeous than any stables in the states.
It's composed of red brick, painted white wood and black trim. From above, the building's long with a huge dome on the top and has two wings where the stables are located. You can see the vast, snow-blanketed pastures behind the building. Huge leafless trees spread across the pastures. "It's amazing," I muse aloud.
"It is," Hunter admits quietly, as if speaking too loudly will blow the serenity away.
Hunter's hair shines in the sun that hangs overhead, and I admire his chiseled features.
"Race ya' to the gate," he shouts and takes off with inhuman speed. My eyes try to keep up as he easily jumps over the logs littering the path and glides down the hill. He's amazingly graceful. I don't like being shown up.
I notice he dropped his backpack in the snow and I do the same.
"Not fair, you cheated!" I call after him and take off at a sprint down the hill. I know this type of running can't be good for me due to my lack of coordination, but I don't care. I run with everything I have and slowly catch up to him. Just when I think I have him, he speeds up. The gate stands a mere thirty feet away now. He should be slowing down. I know a collision is inevitable as his speed increases, "Hunter!" I scream as he suddenly leaps over the six-foot wrought iron fencing and lands smoothly on the other side.
He turns toward me with a huge smile on his face that slowly vanishes and is replaced with reservation. I approach the fence slowly with my jaw still dropped. The fence is far too tall to hurdle, unless we're talking about some Olympian. I'm both impressed and shocked.
"How did you...do that?" I ask, still standing on the other side of the fence.
"Oh that, that was nothing. I was the number one hurdler at my old school." I almost dismiss it as that simple. I think again. Hunter said that he was home-schooled, didn't he? Now I wonder if I'm going crazy.
"I thought you said that you were home-schooled?"
He gazes off so quickly that I almost don't catch it. Only, I'm focused now.
"Briefly, I went to school. My parents thought that sports were an important part of the high school experience. So, they had me go to school long enough for me to compete and win. Then, they had me withdraw."
"Oh, that seems a little odd and cold. I mean you're obviously good." He smirks. I backtrack. "I sa
id good, not amazing. Don't let your head explode, boy-wonder.”
"I don't see why they didn't let you finish. Didn't you make any friends?"
I’m sorry for Hunter in this moment. He seems so much older, but every kid needs some social interaction, even me and I've sworn off ninety-nine percent of human contact. Caity's still trying to change my mind about my desired profession as a private investigator. She says it'll be like solitary confinement.
"Well, I'm back in school now." His tone's short, but he smiles again. My stomach does a little flip-flop. That smile of his is too charming.
"Yeah, I guess." I climb over the fence and jump to the other side. The snow crunches loudly with my impact. "Are you going to compete here?" My nose is leaking and I sniffle. Once, then twice.
"I was thinking about it, but I don't know yet."
I’m confused. "Why? You'll probably get a scholarship to any college you want." I would die to be athletically gifted. That would make my college applications so much simpler. I sniffle again. My eyes burn from the wind and I'm sure I look a mess.
"I guess so. Maybe I will," he says quickly. I can tell he's uncomfortable with the subject; I decide to drop it. If I don't, I'm sure he'll stop answering my questions anyway. Come to think of it, I'm surprised he's being nice.
I'll have to rethink my opinion about Hunter. Usually, when guys are good at something, they flaunt it; but here Hunter is, the picture of modesty. Either he's hiding something or I misjudged him. I think he's hiding something and wish I didn't always think the worst of people.
His eyebrow quirks upward and that cocky grin makes its way on his face, playing with his lips, "You sounded a little worried about me earlier, Lex."
There it is. Way to kill the moment, Captain Cocky.
I was worried about him; I thought for sure he would be injured. The thought of Hunter getting hurt has my heart doing a workout, but I would never admit that.
"Didn't want your big head to break my gate," I say.
He chuckles as I walk away.
I open the barn door and walk in with Hunter tailing me. The smell of grass, hay and horse engulfs me. It's a sweet scent that I love, and have loved since I was a little girl. It's like coming home.
The barn is immaculate, as usual. We walk onto the cement flooring and the amazing indoor arena stands directly in front of us. Its large dome ceiling is outlined with windows that let the afternoon sun spill through, lighting up the room.
"One of the nicest indoor arenas in the state and, I would argue, the entire country. Come on." I pull him forward and am pleasantly surprised when I don't feel a one-thousand-watt shock.
"You would argue anything for the sake of arguing," Hunter asserts and I'm taken aback by his insightfulness.
I smile. "My mother always told me I would make a great lawyer." The muscles in my neck tighten at the mention of my mother. My face drops and I hope that Hunter doesn't notice the slight deviation in behavior. It's strange that in the short time I have known him, I have already mentioned my family. I sniffle again.
I walk down the corridor to the stalls. On each door hangs a sign with the horse's name, rider, and recent awards. The horses here are much more high maintenance than mine back home and they each have a specific feeding regiment. But, that's only because their riders are much more high maintenance than I ever was.
I stop in front of a stall with a plaque that reads, 'Playgirl on the Catwalk' and underneath is scrawled Cayla's name in pretty, cursive font. Playgirl's exactly what you would expect Cayla's horse to look like. She's a pretty bay mare with spots of white here and there. Not a speck of dirt on her. She has pretty, brown eyes. Playgirl's taller than most of the other horses, with perfect bloodlines coming from an Olympic Grand Prix sire and dam. Cayla's parents bought Playgirl for her as a birthday present. Of course, the mare's already perfectly trained, thanks to a whole lot of money. All Cayla has to do is get on and win.
Playgirl nudges me as I walk by. I playfully push her face away. “Cute,” I tell the quirky mare. She ninnies and green snot flies landing on my hoody. I laugh and roll my lips back at her.
Hunter’s chuckling brings me out of the friendly encounter.
“Snot isn’t cute, but that noise was. Can you do that again?” he asks.
I flip him off.
He laughs again. “That wasn’t as cute.”
I read the feeding schedule and notice, of course, that Playgirl has the most intense regime. I shovel grain from a large one-hundred-pound bag into buckets. It sounds like a bad storm as the grain falls from the shovel into the bucket. I disperse feed to the various horses that need an afternoon kick-start. I think it's a little much, but whatever.
"She's nice," Hunter mutters. He’s petting Playgirl’s muzzle. “Is there anything I can help with?" he asks and I snap back to look at him again. Did he seriously ask if he could help me with something?
I didn't expect him to get his hands dirty.
"I don't need your help," I tell him more for myself than him. I haven't needed anyone's help since I turned twelve and I don't want to start taking it now.
"It's not that big a deal. Just thought things would go faster," he explains.
I sort of want the cocky guy back because if Hunter acts nice, I'll have to get rid of him quicker. I can't let myself get close to him. I can't.
"I guess," I hand him a bucket and explain how to read the feeding chart.
"Simple enough." He takes the grain and goes from stall-to-stall putting scoops where necessary.
I take the opportunity to check on my boy. "I'll be right back," I tell Hunter as I walk away. I notice that every horse has retreated to the very back of their stalls and has their ears pinned back. "Huh?" I mutter. Strange activity. I hope that the horses aren't coming down with some sort of virus.
At the very end of the barn, I reach the last stall with a plaque that reads "Big Jack." He's an enormous black stallion and only four-years-old. Scars run along his hip, shoulder and face where his previous owners had done serious work on him.
"Jack, it's me. Lexi." He perks his ears. I retrieve an apple from my bag and hand it to him. It takes him a while to realize it's me and no one's going to hurt him.
Jack is the troubled horse of the barn. No one has the guts to ride him ever since he bucked the trainer off. Masterson, the barn’s elusive and reputable trainer, flew a good thirty-feet high and came down hard. I have never seen anyone get so much air.
Masterson wanted to put the horse down. Says he's not trainable, unbreakable and a danger to riders. I rolled my eyes at his outburst. No horse is truly a danger. Jack's simply misunderstood. I plead for the chance to work with him. "It's your funeral, girl," Masterson told me nine months ago and I have yet to be buried...then again, I haven't ridden him either.
I know better. I'm going to show everyone how great Jack can be if he's given the chance.
Jack bites down on the apple and in a split second it breaks into two, causing a slobbered half to fall into my hand. Then, he nudges my shoulder.
Suddenly, he pins his ears back and lifts his head high above mine, "It’s okay, boy." Then, he perks his ears again. I turn around. Hunter stands behind me.
"He's gorgeous." Hunter has a look of awe that makes me giddy. It's a rare occasion that someone realizes the beauty of horses as I do, and I can tell by Hunter's face, he does.
"Thanks, now if only I could get everyone else to feel the same way," I state solemnly.
"He likes you, Lex. I can tell." Hunter's gaze is fixed on Jack and I see a spark of emotion in the blue eye facing me. I notice shards of green close to his pupil; they are different than Chase's after all.
"Umm… Thanks. Yeah, he's my big man. Stole my heart the day he got here." I smile inwardly at the memory. "Then, again, he also broke some bones the day he got here too," I say candidly.
"He doesn't trust men. That's pretty obvious." Hunter walks up to him and Jack retreats. "It's all right, boy," he coaxes as he extends his
hand and slowly, Jack nuzzles him with his muzzle.
"That's amazing, I've never seen Jack take to anyone. He normally doesn't let anyone near his face." I reach up and rub Jack's cheek and he whinny’s in response.
"Well, I wouldn't either if people took leather to mine like that." Hunter contends with disdain. His lips are parted slightly and I smack myself mentally for admiring his good looks.
"How did you know?" I shift my weight. My hips are stiff from hitting the hard ground earlier.
"It's pretty obvious. He's just misunderstood...like the rest of us."
Us, what the heck does he mean by that? I'm misunderstood, but I want it that way. I wonder how Hunter's misunderstood. I'm curious about Hunter's perceptiveness. Today Hunter's showed me various different sides of him.
The distant afternoon bells ring and the faint sound reminds me that we still have class. I had almost forgotten, being in my element with Hunter and Jack.
"We better get going," I suggest. "We're probably going to be late," I say apologetically.
He returns a lopsided grin. "Last time I checked, they didn't arrest kids for tardiness."
"I wouldn't put it past this school." We both laugh aloud and it's funny how easy things have become between us. I try to use my hair as a veil between us, in case my face is showing the warmth radiating under my skin. I'd blame it on the cold, but I know Hunter wouldn't buy it.
SEVEN
"Thanks for your help. Have you been given your assignment yet?" I ask as we make our way back up the steep hill. My legs burn from exertion. I really need to work out more. The sun beats down on us and I wipe the sweat off my brow.
He squints his eyes.
"Your scholarship assignment," I explain.
"Oh, that. No, I haven't. Maybe I'll appeal to be put on horse duty with you," he swindles his brow mischievously.
"Umm..."
"Unless, you would rather I didn't."
"Oh, no; it's not that. It's--"
"--You're worried they might take you off." He raises a knowing eyebrow at me.