I just hope Foxy remembers how to load, Brooke thought, hugging her pillow to her chest. The mare hadn’t been near the trailer in over a year. Brooke had wanted to practice a couple of times before leaving for Camp Pocomoke, but her stepfather had been storing a spare engine or something in the trailer, and by the time he got around to unloading it, they’d run out of time.
After she’d finished loading her stuff, Brooke glanced up the road, hoping Adam hadn’t forgotten today was the day. She’d texted him that morning to remind him, and he’d promised to come by to help on his way home from the pool. Even though he wasn’t that interested in horses, he was the one who’d helped Brooke train Foxy to load in the first place when Foxy was two. Brooke’s first few tentative attempts to teach the pony to get into the trailer hadn’t gone that well—Brooke had been nervous and uncertain, and Foxy had picked up on that and refused to go anywhere near the scary metal monster parked in her pasture.
When Brooke had complained to Adam about it, he’d seen it as an interesting challenge. After watching a few videos and reading some online articles, he’d convinced the pony to get into the trailer on his very first try. Brooke had been amazed, and envious. It didn’t seem fair that he could teach Foxy something she couldn’t.
Still, the important thing was that he’d done it. And for a year or so after that, Brooke had practiced leading Foxy into and out of the trailer as often as she could, even if they weren’t going anywhere. Sometimes she’d even feed the pony her dinner in there just to make it seem like a good place to be.
But then things had gotten busier at the car lot and Brooke’s stepfather had needed the trailer more often, and it had just seemed easier to keep it there instead of at home. That had been the end of Foxy’s trailer-loading practice.
Her stepfather burst out onto the front step, startling Brooke out of her thoughts. “Ready? Grab the pony and let’s load up.”
Brooke glanced up and down the street again. “Adam’s supposed to come help me get her on the trailer,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
Her mother emerged in time to hear her. “We can’t wait much longer. Here, text him and see if he’s on his way.”
She handed Brooke her smartphone. Brooke quickly sent Adam a text:
Where r u? It’s time to load Foxy.
She stood there, holding her mother’s phone. Her stepfather climbed into the truck and started the engine. He left it idling and hopped out again.
“Well?” he called.
At that moment the phone buzzed in Brooke’s hand. It was a return text from Adam:
Sry, forgot. Went to town w/ the guys after practice.
Brooke gritted her teeth as disappointment flooded through her. What had happened to Adam? A year ago, he never would have let her down like this!
But she pushed those thoughts aside. What was the point in dwelling on them? “He’s not coming,” she told her parents. “I guess I’ll have to load her by myself.”
That turned out to be easier said than done. Foxy followed her willingly out to the front yard. But as soon as Brooke turned her toward the open trailer door, the mare planted her feet and snorted as if the trailer was a horse-eating dragon.
“What’s wrong with Foxy?” Emma called out from the front step, where both twins were sitting, watching the show.
Brooke didn’t answer. “Come on, girl,” she said into Foxy’s ear. “You can do this.”
She turned the mare in a circle and tried again. And again. Each time, the mare stopped and refused to go any farther, no matter how hard Brooke pulled on her halter.
“What’s the problem, Brooke?” Her stepfather sounded impatient. “We can’t do this all afternoon.”
“I know, sorry.” Brooke took a deep breath, trying not to cry. Why did Foxy have to be so stubborn right now? “I just can’t get her to go on.”
“Here, let me try.” Her stepfather strode over and grabbed the lead rope out of her hand. Before Brooke could protest—he didn’t know what he was doing, he was going to scare Foxy—he’d given a cluck and a firm tug on the rope.
Foxy tossed her head and backed up a step. Brooke’s stepfather reached back and smacked the mare on the rump with his free hand. That startled the mare forward, and before she—or Brooke—quite realized what was happening, Foxy was in the trailer.
“See?” Brooke’s stepfather sounded satisfied as he quickly tied the mare and hopped out to swing the door shut. “It doesn’t have to be such a drama.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Brooke peered into the trailer through the slats. Now that Foxy was aboard, she didn’t seem nervous at all. She was already nosing at the hay Brooke had stuffed into the hayrack earlier.
Brooke sighed. It was a good thing she and Foxy were going to camp, because they both obviously needed some work.
CHAPTER
4
“OH, THIS AREA IS SO lovely.” Brooke’s mother peered out the front windshield. “Isn’t it nice, Brooke? You’re just a few miles from Pocomoke Sound here. Look, there’s the sign. Turn here, Roger.”
Brooke glanced back to check on Foxy, though she couldn’t see much from the truck—just the tips of the mare’s ears between the slats of the trailer. Then she leaned forward to check out the sign. It was fancier-looking than she’d expected, with the words POCOMOKE STABLES spelled out in fancy gold letters. Below that, smaller letters read BOARDING TRAINING SALES. The driveway was lined with twin rows of tall shade trees, beyond which Brooke caught a glimpse of sleek horses grazing in large, grassy pastures.
“Nice place,” her stepfather said approvingly as they rounded a curve in the driveway and the rest of the farm came into view.
Brooke nodded. Off to the left was a huge riding ring with neatly raked footing and a course of colorful jumps. A woman was riding a tall, glossy chestnut horse in circles at the far end. Just past the ring was the barn, which was long and low and at least twice the size of the one where Brooke had taken riding lessons. One end opened onto a large paved courtyard, and on the far side of that stood the main house, a two-story brick Colonial with tidy black shutters and a deep front porch. There were several smaller outbuildings scattered around, but Brooke didn’t take in the details.
“Yes, very nice,” her mother was saying. “I didn’t realize it was such a fancy place.”
“Only the best for our girl, eh?” Brooke’s stepfather tossed Brooke a wink in the rearview, then returned his focus to driving. “Suppose I should pull up over there, near the barn?”
“Um, I guess so.” Brooke was watching as the woman in the ring turned her horse and sent him over one of the jumps, which the horse cleared easily. Nearby, Brooke noticed a second woman watching from the rail. She was on foot but dressed in riding clothes that matched those of her friend—beige breeches, tall boots, and a polo shirt.
Brooke swallowed hard, feeling intimidated. What kind of place was this? It certainly didn’t look anything like the summer camps she’d seen in the movies. It wasn’t anything much like the camps her Pony Post friends had described either. So far, she didn’t even see any other kids!
As her father pulled into the courtyard, a woman hurried out of the barn, waving and smiling. She looked to be in her early fifties, with chin-length brown hair, and she was dressed in jeans and paddock boots. “Hi, I’m Robin Montgomery,” she called. “You must be the Rhodeses.”
Brooke’s stepfather leaned out the truck’s open window. “That’s us,” he replied cheerfully. “Where do you want the pony?”
The next few minutes were so busy that Brooke barely had time to breathe, let alone worry about what she was in for. Robin directed them to park at the end of the barn near a pair of sliding doors, then helped unload Foxy, who was wide-eyed and alert as she took in her new surroundings. After a moment the pony whinnied loudly, then spun around at the end of the lead rope.
“Sorry,” Brooke said breathlessly, doing her best to hang on to the prancing pony. “She’s not usually like this. She doe
sn’t go new places very often.”
“It’s all right. Here, let me help.” Robin took the lead from Brooke’s hand, talking soothingly to Foxy. The mare remained alert, but stopped jumping around. Brooke stepped back, pushing her glasses up her nose. Even though Robin was being nice about it, Brooke couldn’t help being embarrassed that Foxy was acting so nutty.
“Good, looks like everything’s under control,” Brooke’s stepfather said. “Let’s get your bags and stuff out, and then we’ve got to get back on the road.” He turned and smiled apologetically at Robin. “My wife has an appointment this evening, so I’m afraid we can’t hang around for the grand tour.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Brooke’s mother peered in through the truck window at the twins, who had been sound asleep in the backseat for the past hour. “Besides, we don’t want to wake up our younger kids.”
“No worries,” Robin replied. “Go ahead and grab your things, Brooke. The other girls are in the barn—they can show you to the bunkhouse once we get Foxy settled in.”
The other girls. Brooke swallowed hard, not sure whether to be excited or nervous. Somehow she couldn’t imagine girls like her Pony Post friends hanging around a fancy stable like this! “Um, okay,” she said.
Before she knew it, the truck and trailer were disappearing down the long drive and Brooke was on her own. Well, except for Foxy, who still wasn’t acting at all like her usual placid, unflappable self.
“She really isn’t spooky, normally,” Brooke told Robin as the pony jumped and stared bug-eyed at a leaf blowing across the courtyard.
Robin smiled, which made the corners of her bright blue eyes crinkle in a nice way. “I understand. This is all new for her. I’m sure she’ll adjust.”
She sounded very sympathetic, which made Brooke feel a little better. Just then a girl appeared at the open end of the barn.
“Oh, is the new camper here?” she asked Robin, staring curiously at Brooke. “Hi, I’m Livi.”
“Hi. Brooke.” Brooke felt self-conscious. Livi looked just as fancy as the rest of this place. She was Brooke’s age or maybe a little older, tall and pretty, with sleek blond hair and wide hazel eyes. Her spotless breeches and sleeveless lavender polo made Brooke feel as if she should tuck her T-shirt into her shorts and rub the dried mud off her sneakers, though she resisted the urge.
“Cool. Nice to meet you, Brooke. Is that your horse?” Livi sounded surprised as she turned her gaze to Foxy. “She’s cute. Is she a pony?”
“Yes. A Chincoteague pony, actually.”
“Oh, like in that movie or whatever, right? Shouldn’t she have spots, though?”
Foxy whinnied loudly again, saving Brooke from having to answer. “We’d better get this girl settled in,” Robin said. “It looks like Foxy’s worked up a bit of a sweat. How about if I walk her a bit, let her check things out and eat a few bites of grass and settle down? In the meantime, Livi can introduce you to the others and they can help you move your things in.” She nodded toward Brooke’s pile of belongings, including her English saddle, which was perched precariously atop her suitcase, where her stepfather had set it.
“Are you sure?” Brooke blurted out, feeling a flash of panic at being separated from Foxy. Even though the pony was acting kind of nutty, Foxy felt like Brooke’s only lifeline to normal right now. “I mean, I could walk her if you don’t have time.”
Robin smiled. “No, go on. It’s fine. I’d like to get to know her, anyway. We’ll meet you inside in a few minutes.” With a cluck to Foxy, she started off across the courtyard, heading for the grassy, tree-dotted lawn beyond.
“Come on, the others are inside,” Livi said. Tossing her blond hair over her shoulder, she spun on one polished paddock boot and headed back into the barn.
Brooke followed. Compared to the bright, hot summer day outside, the barn felt shady and pleasant. A stout dapple-gray horse was cross-tied in the aisle while an older and equally stout woman fussed over him with a currycomb.
“ ’Scuse us,” Livi sang out, ducking under the tie on one side.
“What was all the commotion out there?” the woman asked.
“You mean the whinnying? That’s Brooke’s pony.” Livi waved a hand at Brooke. “They’re both new campers this year.”
“Ah!” The woman smiled at Brooke. “Welcome to Pocomoke Stables—I mean Camp Pocomoke.” She tittered. “It’s always such fun for us boring old boarders to see the things you girls get up to!”
“Thanks.” Brooke smiled uncertainly, then followed Livi, who was already hurrying ahead, calling to two other girls halfway down the aisle. When Brooke reached them, they immediately gathered around, making Brooke feel surrounded even though there were only three of them.
“So Brooke, this is Paige and that’s Hannah.” Livi pointed to each of the other girls in turn. Paige was petite and pale, with bright red hair that hung in waves around her shoulders. Hannah was African-American and even taller than Livi, with wide-set eyes and sleek dark hair pulled into a short ponytail.
“Hi,” Paige said, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. Her smile was big and friendly, and Brooke couldn’t help smiling back. “Brooke, right? We were wondering when you’d get here.”
“At least for the past hour, anyway. We actually didn’t know you were coming until we got here ourselves,” Livi put in with a giggle.
“Yeah.” Hannah was studying Brooke with a slightly puzzled look on her face. “I mean, of course Lauren texted us when she found out she had to cancel. But we didn’t think Robin would find anyone to take her place at the last minute.”
“But we’re glad you’re here,” Paige added quickly. “You’re going to have a blast. This place is the best!”
Livi nodded vigorously. “Totally! Royal and I—that’s my horse, Royal—we went from doing the pre–children’s hunters to the children’s after camp last summer, all because of Robin. She’s an awesome trainer. Did you know she was long-listed for the Olympic team once?”
“Of course she knows that.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows that. That’s probably why she wanted to come, right, Brooke?”
Brooke wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want these girls to know how out of place she felt. Then again, they’d figure it out sooner or later. Probably sooner.
“Not exactly,” she admitted, staring at Hannah’s crystal-studded belt to avoid meeting any of their eyes. “Um, I’m not really into showing and stuff.”
“Oh!” Livi’s eyes widened in surprise. “But then why—”
Paige elbowed her. “Never mind,” she said. “You’ll have fun anyway. Robin teaches all kinds of people and horses. She’s amazing.”
The other two nodded. Brooke smiled weakly. “Okay. Thanks.”
To her relief, the others seemed to lose interest in her after that, turning their chatter to other topics, full of names she didn’t recognize and stuff she didn’t care about. Brooke stopped listening after a while, focusing instead on looking around the barn. The older woman finished her grooming session and led her gelding into a stall, then disappeared. A cat crept out of one empty stall and into another, tail twitching. Several horses, all of them tall and sleek and gorgeous, hung their heads out over the stall doors.
Finally a teenage girl who looked a couple of years older than the others wandered in. “Hey, whose stuff is that in the courtyard?” she called out. “We’re going to try to get a ride in before dark—Robin said it’s okay—and if you don’t want your suitcase stepped on . . .”
“Oops!” Livi said. “Oh, right. Robin said we’re supposed to help Brooke move in.”
“Chill out, Jess!” Hannah called to the older girl. “We’re moving it.”
“Whatever.” The older girl let herself into a stall nearby.
“That’s one of the olders,” Livi told Brooke.
At Brooke’s confused look, Paige giggled. “Older campers, she means,” she said. “We’re the youngers, they’re the olders—fourteen and up.”
They all laughed. Brooke smiled weakly. “Um, my stuff . . .”
“Yeah, we’re on it. Come on.” Paige dashed off down the aisle with the other two on her heels.
By the time Brooke caught up, Hannah had already picked up Brooke’s saddle. “What brand is this?” she asked. “Is it a close contact?”
“Um, I don’t know. The lady at the store said it was made in England, I think?” Brooke wasn’t about to explain how she’d saved up for almost a year to buy the saddle at the local consignment shop, or how it had been the only one in her price range that wasn’t actually coming apart at the seams.
“Made in England is good,” Paige said quickly. “I mean, mine was made in France, but I also looked at some from England. Come on, the bunkhouse is this way.” She grabbed Brooke’s duffel and slung it over her shoulder, pulling her red hair out from under the strap in one smooth, practiced movement.
Livi was already wandering off with Brooke’s suitcase and grooming bucket. Brooke picked up her sleeping bag and pillow and followed.
The other girls led her to a cute clapboard cabin behind the barn. It had green trim and a lush rose vine clambering up one side and over the roof, the soft flowery scent of the pink blossoms filling the air.
“Isn’t this cool?” Livi said over her shoulder. “The olders are stuck in Bunkhouse A, which is bigger and has a bathtub, but it’s way over on the other side of the house.”
Blue Ribbon Summer Page 3