Kit considered crawling under the couch.
“Mud pie?” Lady Covington said with interest. “That’s a delicacy I’m not familiar with.”
“It’s what my mom used to call a chocolate pie,” Kit stammered. “It was awesome, but I’m sure that this cake is a bit better.” To prove it, she grabbed a piece from the tray and shoved it into her mouth whole. “Mmm!” she hummed, feeling like a squirrel with a face full of nuts.
“Let us move on to a more pressing matter,” Lady Covington suggested. “It has come to my attention that you have yet to ride TK. That is not acceptable.”
Kit’s eyes widened. She dearly wished she’d taken a small bite of the cake instead of panicking and shoving the whole thing in. She couldn’t talk!
Lady Covington turned to Rudy. “Mr. Bridges, was I a fool to assume that you would champion your daughter onto a horse?”
“My daughter will ride when she’s ready,” Rudy stated.
Kit knew that tone of voice. Her dad was going into serious Parental Mode. Nooooo! she thought, frantically sucking on the chocolate blob in her mouth, trying to shrink it down to a chewable size so she could stop this train before it wrecked.
Lady Covington gave Rudy the patient stare of a queen to her servant. “No,” she stated simply. “We will begin with some cantering and some small jumps, then we’ll move on to something a little more challenging.”
Rudy sat up straighter. “Not until she says she’s ready, and even then, your schedule is unreasonable.”
“It is perfectly reasonable,” the headmistress insisted, “and it is what will happen.”
Kit furiously sucked on the chocolate blob.
Rudy set down his tea. “You can undermine me as an employee. I can take it. But you will not undermine me as a father. I’ll be the one who decides when Kit is ready for the arena.”
“Every pupil must take part in horse-related activities. That is the rule. There are no exceptions.”
“I’m not going to sit here and talk to someone who refuses to listen, especially when it’s about my own kid.” Rudy got up, threw a very plain glare at Lady Covington, said, “Thanks for the hospitality,” and left the room.
Kit finally managed to speak. “Did you make this yourself?” She innocently gestured to the cakes still on the serving tray.
“No.” Lady Covington’s smile wasn’t genuine, but Kit knew she was lucky to get any smile at all. “I was very serious about TK. He can only remain here on the guarantee that you will ride him. If you’re not ready by our next scheduled meeting, he will be in a horse trailer on his way to auction faster than you can say mud . . . chocolate” — she nodded at the serving tray irritably — “pie. Are we clear?”
“Absolutely,” said Kit. She made one final attempt to salvage the situation. “And thank you for the tea. It was . . . delightful?”
“You may go.”
Kit stormed up to her father, who was out by the practice ring, leaning on the fence. “You escaped,” he said in sarcastic relief. “I thought that dragon lady might have eaten you.”
“How could you speak to her like that?” Kit exploded. “Now she’s really going to have it in for me and TK!”
“Her schedule is nuts, kid. I’m not going to let her dictate your life, not when she’s talking nonsense.”
Kit didn’t want to hear it. She was tired of adults messing around with her life. “I’ll do whatever I have to to keep my horse, even if it means keeping to her schedule!”
“But you haven’t even sat in a saddle properly yet,” Rudy pointed out, trying to be reasonable. “She had you cantering and jumping next week!”
“If it means that we stay together, then TK and I will do it — whether you believe in us or not!” Kit folded her arms and gave her dad the same glare that he had given Lady Covington only minutes before. It was the Bridges Glare, and it meant only one thing: trouble.
Study period in the lounge found at least a dozen students tapping away on laptops or sitting with their heads in textbooks.
Not Josh. He was pondering a photo of the building he was going to draw for his architecture project: 30 St. Mary Axe, a famous skyscraper in the London financial district. It had been completed in 2003 and was architecturally unique in the London skyline because it looked like a giant pickle. It was, in fact, commonly known as the Gherkin. Josh considered a giant pickle building too good to pass up, but he couldn’t figure out how to draw it. Since his project partner wasn’t available, he turned to the student studying at the nearest desk. “Yo, slacker.”
Elaine looked up.
“Can I ask some advice? How am I supposed to draw a round building on a flat piece of paper?”
Elaine rolled her eyes. “Try asking your partner. I’m busy.” Her curiosity got the better of her. “Why do you ask, anyway? What building are you drawing?”
“The Gherkin!” Josh held up the photo. “Coolest building in London, yeah?”
“That’s hardly a classic English design,” Elaine stated in a superior tone.
Josh frowned. “It totally is.”
Elaine held up her photo. “Peaches and I chose a building of historical significance.”
A loud sarcastic snoring sound came from the couch where Will was lying, reading a magazine with his headphones on.
Elaine lowered her photo, looking almost stricken. “What does that mean?”
“Buckingham Palace?” Will said, pulling his headphones off. “It’s been done over and over.”
“It’s better than drawing a pickle. Did you know that’s what he’s doing?” Elaine indicated Josh.
Will leaned forward on the edge of the couch. “Why do you care?”
“Because he’s not taking it seriously, and the rest of us care. He’s predictable, and he’s lowering the bar for us all.”
Will gave her a strange look. “It was my idea. Josh is my partner.”
“Oh.” Elaine’s face tried on several odd expressions before settling into what looked like cosmic enlightenment. “Well, I mean, I suppose it could work. For you. It is interesting.”
Josh stared at her, fascinated. He’d never seen Elaine remotely concerned with what other students did regarding their schoolwork, yet here she was, debating it with Will, of all people.
“Yeah,” Will was saying, “not to mention innovative. Modern, yeah? Fresh?”
“Yeah.” Elaine fiddled with her hair. “I . . . I wonder if I should reconsider my project. What do you think?”
Now Josh was just plain shocked. Elaine suddenly doubted her choice of subject because Will Palmerston made a comment? Elaine never let anybody change her mind. She usually got all superior and made the other person feel like dirt. “If this wasn’t happening right in front of my eyes, I’d never believe it,” he murmured.
“I didn’t ask your opinion,” Elaine snapped at him, then gave Will a sappy smile as she closed her laptop and gathered her books. “I’ll keep you posted,” she said to him, and left.
“Once,” Josh mused, “just once, I want to be able to knock her off her game like that. I mean, did you hear her? She’s like, Oh, he’s not taking this seriously. He’s too predictable.”
Will grinned. “Yeah. You just need to know what makes her tick.” His grin faded. “Oh, and no.”
“To what?”
“The building.” Will jerked his head at the Gherkin photo.
“But, dude, it looks like a giant pickle!”
“Mate, we’re doing Saint Paul’s.” Will resettled his headphones and went back to reading his magazine.
Josh stared at the Gherkin photo and sighed.
Anya had been eager to hear Nav’s idea for their architecture project, but she never dreamed it would be so — professional. Literally! He had used his family connections to fly a professional architect named Nina in from London!
Now she, Nina, and Nav were out on the school grounds. They’d picked a spot on the grass that would be the perfect place to work.
“W
e’d like you to help us build the model,” Nav told Nina, indicating the spot. Nina nodded and scribbled notes into a little notepad.
Anya couldn’t stop her imagination from riding the idea train. “Is that what we’d like?” she asked Nav. “Is that all we’d like?”
“What are you saying?” Nav asked. “Nina is one of the most accomplished architects in Britain.”
“Let’s improve Big Ben!”
Nina scribbled notes as Nav considered the idea. “Build a better version . . .”
“Exactly!” said Anya. “And do you know what I’ve always thought Big Ben needed? A rooftop pool!”
Nav gazed into space, smiling. “Everything needs a rooftop pool.”
Nina scribbled more notes.
By the time they were done, Nina’s little notebook was crammed with scribbling, and she had drawn up a professional set of plans. Anya and Nav thanked her and ran to the student lounge to show them off.
To their delight, Josh and Will were in the lounge working on their project.
“Here’s the rooftop pool,” Anya explained to them, pointing at the plans for their new and improved Big Ben. “And Nav has an amazing idea for the clockface.”
“Every hour,” Nav declared, “it lights up in a different color.”
Josh was impressed. “Oh, man! Elaine is going to freak when she sees how next-level you guys went with this.”
Will frowned at him. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with Saint Paul’s Cathedral.”
“Or there won’t be if you just let me add the chairlift, dude,” said Josh. “A half-pipe for snowboarding, right off the steeple? Come on, please?”
Kit marched into the room. By now her fascinator had slid down so that it looked more like a frilly pink crustacean clinging to the side of her head. “Well, today was a total disaster!” she cried, the fascinator jiggling as she spoke. “I never should have taken my dad with me! He had a huge fight with Lady C, and now I’m supposed to be cantering right this minute and —” She paused as the colorful plans in Anya’s hand caught her eye. “What did you guys do to Big Ben?”
“We added a rooftop pool,” Nav explained as if such a thing should have been done a hundred years ago.
“And a helicopter pad!” Anya chirped with excitement.
Nav added, “Because last time I tried to do some sightseeing, it was such a nightmare trying to land.”
“Yeah, well, who hasn’t been there?” Will quipped from the back table.
“Kit,” said Anya, “is that what you wore to afternoon tea?” She pointed at the drooping fascinator.
“Yeah,” Kit answered, suddenly noting how they were all looking at her funny. “Why?”
“Well, it’s feathery . . .” Will began. “And lacy. And . . . and pink, which is . . . which is cool.”
“Cool,” Josh repeated, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
Kit was not in the mood for teasing. They were teasing her, weren’t they? She couldn’t tell, and that made it even worse. “You guys!” she snapped, just wanting them to stop.
Josh decided to show mercy and took it upon himself to tell poor Kit the truth. Though, being who he was, he couldn’t do it nicely. “Josh Luders here, Fashion Coroner,” he said, straightening his tie and trying to sound official. “Time of death?” He let the moment build, then called out, “The moment that thing went on your head!”
Everyone burst out laughing. It was mean to tease Kit, but they couldn’t hold it back anymore. She looked too goofy to ignore.
“Why can’t I get any of this British stuff right?” Kit wailed.
Anya rushed over to her roommate. “On the bright side, it probably distracted Lady C from how wonky your tie is.” She straightened said tie.
That made Kit deflate even more. “I would have been better off showing up with hay all over me!”
“Did Elaine not tell you about the invitation?” asked Josh. “If you’d gotten the invite in time, you probably would have been able to make the right hat choice. I say probably because” — he waved his hand in her direction — “you might still have gone with that.”
Will busted up laughing again.
“Elaine told me she delivered it,” Kit said grimly, “and she told me I looked great on my way to Lady C’s.”
“She could have stopped this?” Anya said. “That’s some seriously bad karma she’s brought on herself.”
Josh nodded in agreement. “What goes around comes around.”
Even Will stopped smiling at the thought of what Elaine had done. Or more important, not done.
Kit let Anya gently remove the fascinator, then she headed off to her room.
Anya and Nav returned to the building spot they had chosen outside for their model. Nav stepped back and forth, a hand to his ear. “Ooooooooo, eeeeeeeee, oooooooo,” he intoned with intense concentration. “Yup! This, acoustically speaking, is the perfect space for the musical water feature.”
Anya smiled at him. She was so impressed by all the technical things he knew. She was starting to think he was a genius. “Will you describe the glass floor to the class?” she asked him. “You do it so well.”
Before he could answer, Sally arrived, looking very put out. “Nav, why on earth was your family helicopter on school property?”
Rudy marched up right behind her. “Can someone explain why there’s chalk on the field? My field?”
Anya looked back and forth between the two adults. “It’s our architecture project. We decided to build a new and improved Big Ben!” She held up Nina’s plans.
Indicating the plans, Nav added, “And naturally, we flew in the best architect we could find.”
Sally took one look at the plans and shook her head. “Aside from Mr. Bridges needing the field for horse riding, having an architect design your model is cheating.”
Both Anya and Nav reacted to that word with alarm. Cheating? They had only been doing their best!
“You need to complete the project by your deadline,” Sally went on, “and without a professional doing the work for you.”
What would have been obvious to most students in the world slowly came into focus for Anya — and, judging from the look on his face, for Nav as well. She realized that doing your best meant doing your personal best, not doing your best given your resources, of which both she and Nav had plenty. It kind of made sense, although it had at first made more sense to them to use their vast resources to do the best job.
But maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe their architecture project was supposed to teach them more than just how to build a building. Maybe it was really a way to help them build themselves by gaining self-confidence and maybe even a sense of personal responsibility.
“We’re sorry, Miss Warrington,” Nav said, and Anya could tell that he meant it. She could also tell that he didn’t like being lectured but was beginning to understand.
Anya nodded her apology as well. After all, wasn’t she here to learn how to do things by herself? This project could help her learn to do exactly that!
“No need to apologize,” Sally told them both. “Just go and get started. On your own.”
Anya and Nav nodded obediently, then headed back to the student lounge to plan anew.
That left Sally and Rudy still standing in the field. “You have to admire their ability to think outside the box — and the building,” Sally said with a chuckle. She knew she should probably have been more strict with the two students, but having come from a wealthy family herself, she knew how difficult it was for some rich children to learn not to rely on wealth for all the answers in life.
Rudy made a harrumph sound. “Everybody in this school needs to be brought back down to earth.” He was crabby, more crabby than Sally had ever seen him. Something more was weighing heavily on him.
“Would you like to talk about what’s really bothering you, Mr. Bridges?”
Rudy hemmed and hawed and finally confessed, “I had a throw-down with Lady C.”
“Again?” Sally as
ked. It seemed like the two of them were throwing down a lot lately.
“And then Kit stopped talking to me because I wasn’t doing whatever Lady Covington wanted,” Rudy continued.
Sally tried to hide a smile. “Kit got mad at you because you weren’t doing what you were told? Curious.”
“After her riding accident, I pressured her to get back on, and it backfired,” Rudy explained. “I don’t want to blow it again, certainly not to please that dragon lady.”
Sally laughed inwardly. Personally, she liked Lady Covington. A lot. The woman was nicer and a lot more human than most people believed. From the outside, Lady Covington was strict, demanding, and unforgiving, but what most people forgot was that she had to run a school full of privileged students, kids who needed a very firm hand so they didn’t grow up to be spoiled, uncaring adults. It was a challenging job, but Lady Covington was very good at it. She had to be a bit harsh to get the job done right.
Sally had experienced this firsthand, having attended Covington many years ago. The school had changed her life, and all for the better. Someone like Rudy, who seemed to be naturally practical and responsible and humble and caring, had a hard time understanding why everybody didn’t toe that line. And now that his own daughter was under Lady Covington’s watch, he was taking some of Kit’s lessons personally.
Sally could relate to that. She often felt bad when, as a teacher, she had to reprimand a student. And sometimes when Lady Covington came down hard on a student, Sally herself cringed, remembering what it felt like to be on the receiving end. Rudy was just trying to protect his daughter while also settling into a new job, a new country, and a school full of new rules and regulation and traditions. None of this was easy for him, and Sally wanted to help.
“Girls can be complicated creatures,” she said. “One minute they need you, the next they act like you’re the biggest embarrassment ever. My advice . . .” She thought hard for a way to make it clear to him. “Pretend she’s one of your horses,” she suggested. “Give her space, and she’ll gallop off and do her own thing, but” — Sally looked into Rudy’s eyes — “she’ll come back when she’s ready.”
Kit Meets Covington Page 11