She looked over the images: Rudy laughing, what had to be his résumé shot, a portrait that looked like it was from the 1990s, Rudy as a clown . . .
She inhaled sharply. She peered closer. Yes, there he was as a rodeo clown, complete with a ridiculous patchwork outfit, a scarecrowlike straw hat, bright-red suspenders, the whole bit. “Interesting,” she murmured.
She closed her laptop, gathered her books, and hurried out, smirking.
As Elaine left the student lounge, Anya entered and went straight to Josh. “I think I have a problem,” she moaned at him.
Josh looked up from his laptop, automatically going into Tease Mode. “Freaking out about the competish?”
Anya’s expression of dismay turned to one of confusion. “Competish . . . sh . . . shion? Competition! Oh, I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I don’t have a dress for the gala!”
Josh leaned back in his chair, clueless as to why Anya would be coming to him but rather delighted that she had. He liked her. She had such a strange sense of humor. “Is this one of those girl things where I don’t have a dress means I have, like, six hundred in my closet, but I just want to go shopping?” When Anya shot him an odd look, he explained, “I have sisters.”
Poor Anya was totally lost. “I don’t have sisters. Or six hundred dresses. Is that what you’re asking? I’m not quite sure what you’re asking.”
Josh laughed. “You’re funny. Not funny ha-ha, but there’s something different about you.”
Anya gulped. “I was homeschooled!”
“Ohhh. That so makes sense.” He winked at her knowingly.
Anya sat down and, without realizing it, gave him big puppy eyes. “Oh, please help.”
The effect on Josh was instantaneous. Tease Mode switched to Serious Guy Helping Pretty Girl Mode as he brought up his search engine, typed in “party dresses,” and hit the Search button. He swiveled the laptop around so that Anya could see the screen. It displayed picture after picture of cute dresses and where to get them. “The beauty of online shopping,” he said. “Pick a dress, choose overnight shipping, and boom, you’re done.”
It was as if Anya had never before seen such a thing. She took in all the dress choices and cried, “Thank you!” Then, to his total surprise (and Josh didn’t surprise easily), she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! This changes everything!”
It certainly did for Josh. He had just rescued a damsel in distress, and she’d given him a very nice hug. Very nice indeed. He could get used to this. . . .
Elaine, fully dressed for riding, led her chestnut gelding, Thunder, who was fully tacked up, out of the stable and toward the practice ring. It was time for her to take matters into her own hands. She wasn’t going to lose to Beatrice Bates because of some rodeo clown.
Unfortunately, the rodeo clown was standing in the stable courtyard watching her. “You taking that saddle for a walk?” Rudy asked. “Because I thought my instructions were pretty clear. No riding today.”
Elaine mentally prepared for an argument. Disagreeing with Rudy didn’t bother her in the least, but disagreeing with a teacher did. Her record at Covington was spotless. She was a model student. She did not cause trouble. But this was one issue that she couldn’t ignore any longer. “Look,” she said, trying to maintain a respectful attitude, “I don’t like breaking the rules. But in order to win, we have to train properly.”
Rudy tipped his Stetson farther back on his forehead. “My training is proper. Just different proper.”
“With all due respect, sir, I’m simply not prepared to have that judged by a rodeo clown.”
Instead of seeming insulted, as Elaine had expected, Rudy gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful. “Well, yeah, it’s true. On my way up, I’ve taken just about every job that involves horses. That’s how you meet the best horse people. And you get to watch them make mistakes.” He let that sink in. “Now you, for example, can’t execute a balanced figure eight. Couldn’t do it if there was a gold medal in it for you.”
Elaine felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “That is simply not true.”
“Yeah. It is. And this clown can help you fix it.”
Elaine bit her lip and thought of Beatrice Bates. Maybe Rudy wasn’t challenging her, putting her down, or insulting her. Could it be that he genuinely wanted to help?
This rodeo clown might have something worthwhile to teach her after all.
Out in the arena, Kit worked with TK, who had finally calmed down and accepted that the bridle was on to stay. It was a good start. A teeny-weeny one, but a good one.
“And now,” she said, putting as much enthusiasm as she could into her voice, “we walk in a circle for no particular reason!” She started in a circle backward, hands beckoning to TK. “Come on, boy! It’s super fun — I promise!”
TK apparently thought circles were dull. He refused to follow or even acknowledge Kit’s voice. Kit returned to him and scratched his forehead. “We have to pass tests,” she told him sternly. “This is totally serious, so let me help you. Okay?”
TK grunted.
“We’re going to play a little game. It’s easy. It’s called Simon Says.” She called back to Will and Nav, who were leaning against the rails “helping” her. “Hey, turn on the music! It’ll help him relax!”
Like lightning, both boys grabbed for Kit’s phone, which was on the top rail. Nav got it first. Will didn’t exactly frown, but his jaw tightened visibly as Nav turned the device on.
Kit stared deep into TK’s big brown eyes. “Simon says go right!” she said, again putting as much enthusiasm and cheer into her voice as she could muster. While dance music played from her phone, she did a happy little dance step to the right.
TK followed at a walk.
Encouraged, Kit said, “Simon says go left!” and she danced to the left, throwing her whole body into it.
TK began to catch her energy. He gave a little hop and followed her left, his tail swishing.
“Simon says go right again!” Kit laughed, dancing to the right.
TK followed, not quite dancing, but his steps were more energetic. He grunted and neighed, tossing his head to the music.
Nav smiled, charmed by Kit’s antics. Will raised an eyebrow. That eyebrow spoke volumes to Nav. “I thought you were off girls,” he commented drily. Will just glanced at him, then turned back to the spectacle of the girl and the dancing horse.
After he had successfully danced right and left several times, Kit scratched TK’s forehead. “Good boy!” she praised him. “Now Simon says jump. It’s easy. Don’t worry. I’ll show you how.” Thudding across the damp grass in her big Wellington boots, she ran at one of the low jumps in the arena and leaped over it. She spun around to watch TK follow her.
He wasn’t following. In fact, he was doing a very good impression of a statue.
“Come on, TK! Come on, you can do it!”
In a burst of motion, TK cleared the jump and didn’t stop until he was at Kit’s side. She laughed in delight, while Nav and Will applauded.
None of them were aware that Lady Covington was watching from her office window.
Elaine wanted to scream.
While Rudy pretended to be busy doing something nearby, she attempted to bond with Thunder. “Hey, Thunder, how’s your day going? Is your feed good? Mmm, delicious alfalfa!”
Thunder didn’t even do her the favor of looking at her. He gazed over her head at nothing. He didn’t even stop chewing.
She slumped.
“Walk the course with him,” Rudy suggested. “A simple figure eight. Let him follow.”
Elaine put her hands on her hips. “That’s something four-year-olds do with ponies. I’m his rider.”
“If my way fails, I’ll resign,” Rudy offered.
Elaine brightened. “Really?”
“Ah, no.”
Elaine scowled.
“But just try it. And close your eyes. Close them,” Rudy repeated when s
he shook her head no. “Now. Tight together.”
“What is this supposed to accomplish?” Elaine grumbled, but she closed her eyes and began the figure eight with Thunder at her side. “This is ridiculous. I feel ridiculous!”
“Just think about the pattern,” Rudy said, almost hypnotically. “The figure eight.”
Elaine gritted her teeth. “I’ve known what a figure eight looks like since nursery,” she huffed as she came around the second loop of the eight. “I need to ride!” She stumbled a little and opened her eyes.
“That!” Rudy cried, pointing at her. “What’s that? Why did you stop? Every time you come around that turn, you hesitate. Why?”
“I don’t.” Elaine stood still. She pursed her lips.
“Look,” said Rudy, “everything you feel, you transfer to your horse. Frustration, love, anger, embarrassment, all of it. Thunder feels that, too. What happened?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Okay. Good luck against Bates. I’ll be on a plane back west.”
Reluctantly, Elaine confessed, “I dropped a stirrup. Last year. My foot slipped out, I don’t know why, and then I lost my balance and fell in the dirt.” She wanted to look anywhere but at her teacher. “It was awful. . . .”
“Why?”
Shrugging helplessly, she insisted, “It just happened!”
“No, no, why did you slip? The wrong boots, bad breakfast . . . a boy?” Elaine’s expression turned to stone. “Look, let all that embarrassment go, all right? It’s just dust. All you need to do is think about the perfect eight and Thunder.” He smiled at her.
Elaine didn’t quite smile back, but the corners of her lips lifted a tiny bit. She rubbed Thunder’s neck affectionately. Rodeo clown, indeed!
An hour later, Kit was in Rudy’s office when Lady Covington walked in. Kit had never seen the headmistress in the stables before, but of course, it was silly to think she never went there. Kit was not happy to see her. Visits from Lady Covington rarely meant good news.
“Groundwork has never been a part of any dressage competition that I have ever seen,” the headmistress told her. Her meaning was clear enough: groundwork was not a part of dressage, period.
“But did you see TK walk after me?” Kit asked. “That has to be a victory, right? He just does things a little differently.”
Lady Covington did not agree. “Clearly you need time to learn even the basics. Based on that obvious fact, I’ve come up with a contract.”
Kit’s heart leaped. “Does that mean he stays?”
“You will have to prove that both you and TK are worthy of our riding program. I expect you to be riding by the end of the month, and by the midterm event, I expect you to be out on the field competing with the rest of your classmates. Or we can go back to the original plan. I’m sure that TK will fetch a very good price at auction.”
“No!” Kit cried. “I — I’ll sign.”
Lady Covington opened one of the file folders in her arms and flipped several papers over until she came to the page she wanted. “Right here.” She held out a pen.
“Oh.” Kit gulped. “You weren’t joking?”
“Joking is for the lazy and the light-minded. Sign there, please.”
Kit took the pen and scratched her name quickly on the document. She figured she should have read it first, but her father was watching, and Lady Covington was putting pressure on her just by existing. Nothing else mattered but that she get her name on that contract so TK wouldn’t disappear overnight.
She handed the pen back, and Lady Covington closed her file folder with a satisfied nod. “Carry on,” she said, and left.
Kit slowly turned around to face her dad sitting behind his desk. “I can’t believe I just signed my name to that thing,” she said, plopping down into a chair. “And now I’m going to have to do that thing.”
“And you will,” said Rudy. “You’re Kit Bridges. I’ve never known anyone as determined as you.” He started to laugh, but a shadow darkened his features. “Except . . .”
“Mom?”
Rudy’s smile returned. “Speaking of which . . .” He got up and tossed his coat aside. Under it was a large box, which he placed on his desk. “I thought you might need a little something for the gala.”
Kit opened the box and gasped, recognizing the pattern on the neat bundle of material inside. Reverently she picked it up. “This was her dress.” She held it up against herself in wonder. The dress was a vintage mini from the 1980s, totally boho chic, Kit’s signature style. Of course, she’d adopted the style from her mother in the first place. “I’ve been so busy with TK, I didn’t even think about what I was going to wear.” Kit raced around the desk and gave her father a hug. “Thanks for the save, Dad!”
The van from Bingham Academy arrived, turned a wide circle in the gravel driveway, and came to a halt before the main doors.
When Beatrice Bates stepped out, Elaine and her posse were there to greet her. “Bates,” she said in a flat tone.
Bates was slightly taller than Elaine and dressed in Bingham’s red-and-blue uniform. Other than the different school colors, though, the two girls could have been sisters. Both had trim athletic bodies, they stood straight and proud, their hair was light, their skin clear, and their attitudes snarky. As her own squad exited the van and took up positions that exactly mirrored the positions of Elaine’s friends, Bates greeted her nemesis in an equally flat tone: “Whiltshire.”
So began the Whiltshire-Bates War. It wasn’t on the official list of weekend events, but it was an event nonetheless. A very serious one.
Elaine began the verbal duel portion of the war with a lunge: “Nice try,” she told Bates, “but photos aren’t going to psych me out. Next time, try harder.”
Bates’s riposte was to sneer and say, “Oh, I’m just getting started.”
“‘The mind is everything. What you think, you become.’”
“‘Success is ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration.’”
“That explains the smell.”
Bates’s lips quivered. She had nothing.
Score! Elaine turned her back on her nemesis and walked away.
That evening as Josh ambled innocently along the corridor of the main building, he was nearly bowled over by a frantic Anya. “Josh!” she cried. “Josh! Josh!”
“Whoa!” he said, steadying her as she stumbled to a halt. “Slow your roll there!”
“The dresses,” Anya panted. “They just arrived!” She held them up. “I can’t tell what’s suitable, and I can’t find Kit, so — help!”
Now Josh understood. “Is this why you weren’t in the stables today?”
“I’m so stressed! I put the wrong address on the package, and then I had to go into the village to pick it up, and then I missed the shuttle bus back!” She shoved the dresses at him for inspection. “What do you think?”
He looked from one dress to the other. Both were red, but the one on the right . . . “Dude,” he said, “is that for you or Lady C?”
Insulted, Anya grumbled, “It looked different on the thumbnail.”
He just shook his head. “Next.”
Anya held the other dress out. It was simple, unadorned, but well tailored. It would surely look great on her. “Oh, yeah,” said Josh. “Totally nailed it.”
“Are you one hundred percent sure?”
“Is this a test?”
“Kind of. For me, anyway.”
“Then you totally passed.”
Anya gave a happy squeal, and Josh grinned. The gala was going to start in a couple of hours. He was looking forward to seeing Anya in that dress.
Kit took her time getting ready for the gala, trying on various bracelets and necklaces and messing with her hair. In the end, she decided to let her mother’s dress do all the talking and settled for a simple metallic beaded necklace and her usual hairstyle. Shoes were another matter. Those had to make a statement, and the statement was “Cowgirl!” Her bright red Corral boots did the
trick.
In a fit of fatherly adorableness, Rudy had asked if he could escort her from Rose Cottage to the main building, where the gala was taking place. So once she was ready, Kit met him outside the cottage, and they ambled their way arm in arm to the door of the dining hall, where they paused to survey the scene.
The dining hall had been transformed into a wonderland of glittering lights and decorations. Dance music thumped so loudly that the chandeliers in the hallway vibrated with each beat. Students from Covington and Bingham were happily chatting and munching nibbles. A few couples were already out on the dance floor. The only thing that looked odd to Kit was the fact that all the guys were wearing James Bond tuxedos with bow ties. She was used to school dances with the boys in denim and cowboy boots.
Before stepping into the room, Rudy said to her, “The dress suits you.”
“Thanks,” Kit said. She knew he’d been dying to say that since they’d left Rose Cottage, but her dad always got shy when it came to giving compliments. Kit also knew that seeing the dress had to be hard for him. She couldn’t express how much she loved him for not only keeping it but for giving it to her for the gala. She was tempted to hug him, but hugging your own dad just wasn’t something you did at a dance, so she opted for saying, “You look good, too.”
He did exactly what she expected: he gazed down at himself and muttered, “I’m counting the seconds till I can get out of this rig.” He tugged at his teacher’s tie, which he was required to wear, for the umpteenth time. Kit held back a giggle.
Nav appeared before them, smiling his ever-suave smile. “Mr. Bridges,” he formally greeted Rudy. “It is my honor to take care of your daughter this evening.”
“What . . . are you talking about?” Rudy asked him cautiously while Kit thought, Take care of? Take care of?
Kit Meets Covington Page 6