Blue Ribbon Summer

by Catherine Hapka

  Brooke couldn’t help being alarmed. She’d thought this camp was all about riding. She wasn’t very interested in most other sports—not like Maddie the soccer freak, or Nina, who’d taken dance since she was little, or even Haley, who went hiking and camping and fishing and cross-country skiing with her family all the time.

  Thinking of her Pony Post friends made Brooke feel wistful. If they were here with her, she’d be much more excited to try all those new things. She was sure the four of them would have a blast—and so would their ponies. Maybe they’d even be able to ride out and find a deserted stretch of beach where they could pretend to be riding wild ponies on Assateague. . . .

  Realizing that Robin was still talking, Brooke tuned back in: “. . . and I hope you’ll all have fun and improve your riding and general horsemanship. As always, we’ll be able to see just how much you’ve learned at our annual end-of-camp horse show.”

  Once again, several of the other campers cheered. Robin smiled.

  “Olders, Abby will take you for a quick swim as soon as she gets here, so go get changed. Youngers, you’re with me—your first riding lesson starts in twenty minutes. I want to see what kind of progress you’ve all made since last summer.” Glancing at Brooke, she added, “And of course, I’ll want to evaluate our new pair.”

  Brooke felt a nervous shiver run through her. She and Foxy had never been “evaluated” before. She wasn’t even quite sure what that meant.

  “Now get to the barn and start grooming and tacking up,” Robin finished. “I’ll expect you in the ring in”—she paused and checked her watch—“nineteen and a half minutes.”

  “More inside leg, Brooke!” Robin called as Brooke and Foxy rounded the short end of the ring. “You need to ask her to bend through the turn, but you can’t do it all with your reins.”

  “Sorry.” Brooke felt flustered as she tried to do what Robin was asking. “Um, we haven’t really practiced that kind of thing much yet.”

  So far her first riding lesson at Camp Pocomoke wasn’t going very well. It was pretty obvious that the other girls’ horses were much better trained than Foxy, and the girls themselves much better trained than Brooke.

  “Everyone, let’s halt and talk about this,” Robin called out.

  The other three riders came to the middle. Brooke felt short beside their horses. All of them were at least a hand taller than Foxy. Hannah’s horse, Vegas, a handsome chestnut warmblood, was a full seventeen hands!

  “Now let’s discuss bending and why we do it,” Robin began. “When we ask a horse to use its body properly . . .”

  She went on for a while, occasionally asking questions that the other girls answered easily. Brooke listened, trying to take it all in, but she couldn’t help feeling self-conscious and distracted. It was obvious that she and Foxy didn’t belong here any more than Ethan and Emma belonged in a college philosophy class, and everyone knew it. Brooke guessed that Robin hadn’t planned to cover such basic material during this lesson. The other girls didn’t say anything about it, but Brooke was pretty sure she caught them exchanging meaningful glances a few times.

  By the end of the lesson, all she wanted was to get away and figure out how she was going to survive two weeks of this. She untacked Foxy quickly and snapped a lead rope on her halter.

  “Is it okay if I take Foxy out to graze for a few minutes?” she asked Robin.

  “Sure, go ahead,” Robin said.

  Paige looked up from picking her horse’s hoof. “I’ll come too,” she said. “Snow loves hand grazing.”

  Brooke’s heart sank. So much for being alone! She forced a smile. “Okay.”

  Soon both girls were watching their horses nibble grass behind the barn. Paige leaned against her mare’s shoulder and gave Brooke a sidelong look.

  “Robin can be tough, but she really knows her stuff,” she said. “You’ll be surprised how fast you and Foxy will learn.”

  “Okay.” Brooke didn’t meet her eye.

  Paige was silent for a moment. Then she cleared her throat. “So I know you said you don’t show, and I noticed you only brought that schooling helmet. If you want, you can borrow my spare helmet for the show at the end of camp.”

  Brooke’s free hand flew to her head. She’d been in such a hurry to get away that she’d forgotten to take off her helmet, which had been a ninth-birthday gift from her mother. After three years of nearly daily wear, it looked slightly threadbare, though Brooke hadn’t really realized it until that moment.

  “What’s wrong with my helmet?” she snapped.

  Paige looked worried. “Um, nothing. It’s just that most people don’t wear that kind for showing these days, and I thought you’d want to fit in, so . . .”

  Suddenly Brooke couldn’t take any more. “I have to go,” she choked out, willing herself not to start crying in front of the other girl. She grabbed a chunk of Foxy’s mane and vaulted onto her back.

  The pony lifted her head from the grass, startled. “Hey,” Paige said. “What are you doing?”

  “Just going for a ride.” Brooke gave Foxy a kick, and the pony jumped into a trot. Using her legs and a couple of tugs on the lead rope, Brooke sent her down a lane leading off between two large pastures. Paige called her name a couple of times, but Brooke didn’t look back.

  She felt better once the barn was out of sight behind her. Letting Foxy slow to a walk, Brooke glanced around. They were passing the far edge of Robin’s largest pasture. Beyond that lay a tangle of scrubby brush with colorful birds flitting around. Off to the left was a farm field—soybeans, like the place across the road from Brooke’s house. On the far side of the field was forest.

  “This is more like it,” Brooke murmured, causing Foxy to flick an ear back briefly. “We might not know how to bend properly in the ring or jump big fences or do fancy dressage moves. But who needs that stuff, anyway?”

  The farther they got from Pocomoke Stables, the more relaxed she felt. After skirting the soybean field, Brooke found a winding trail leading into the woods. Not long after that, the trees thinned out and she heard the distant sound of crying gulls and breaking waves.

  “Sounds like we found the Sound,” she told Foxy. They kept going and soon crested a sandy hill overlooking a dirt road that ran parallel to the woods. On the other side of the road, a slope covered in wild grasses led down to the rocky shoreline. Brooke sat back and tightened her seat and Foxy halted. For a moment they both surveyed the beautiful, wild scene. A shorebird flew up in a flurry of wings while the gulls Brooke had heard earlier wheeled and shrieked far overhead. A sailboat skidded by in the distance, looking like something on a postcard.

  Brooke squeezed lightly, and Foxy picked her way down the slope, pushing through the marshy grasses. Brooke sucked in a deep breath of briny air, imagining that this must be what it was like to ride along the wild shores of Assateague Island. . . .

  “Hey!” A sharp voice broke into her reverie.

  Brooke jumped, then realized Foxy already must have noticed that they weren’t alone. The pony was staring, ears pricked, at a pair of people picking their way across the rocks nearby. In the lead was an elderly woman with a cane, dressed in a shabby cotton sweater and orthopedic shoes. Right behind her was a teenage girl dressed in normal shorts and a T-shirt.

  “Miss Alice, slow down!” the girl called. “You’ll kill yourself on those rocks!”

  The old woman ignored her. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, waving her cane at Brooke. “This is private property. You’re trespassing!”

  “S-sorry.” Brooke tightened her grip on Foxy’s mane as the pony took a step backward, eyeing the woman and her cane warily.

  “Sorry doesn’t pay the mortgage!” the old woman snapped, her watery blue eyes flashing with fury.

  By now the teenage girl had caught up. “Leave her alone, okay?” she said. Glancing up at Brooke, she rolled her eyes. “Sorry. She thinks everyone is a developer sneaking around, trying to steal her land.” She poked the old woma
n on the shoulder. “She’s just a girl on a pony, okay? No need to call the police.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Brooke said again. “I didn’t know we were trespassing.”

  “It’s no biggie,” the girl said. “Your pony’s cute. Is she a Welsh cross or what?”

  “No, she’s a Chincoteague pony,” Brooke said.

  “Harrumph. Chincoteague, eh?” The old woman cast a curious glance at Foxy, then turned away. “Don’t let me catch you here again, girl.”

  “You won’t. I’m sorry.” Brooke turned Foxy around and rode as quickly as she could back the way they’d come, not daring to look back.

  As Brooke and Foxy approached the barn half an hour later, Livi rushed out and waved at them.

  “She’s back! Hey, Robin, Brooke’s back!” the blond girl shouted.

  She hurried forward. Paige and Hannah emerged from the barn and rushed after her. Soon all three of them were dancing along beside Foxy, keyed up and extra-talkative.

  “Wow, I’ve never seen Robin so freaked-out,” Hannah commented. “She thinks you’re, like, dead or something.”

  “We were worried too,” Livi added.

  “Yeah,” Paige said. “Why’d you ride off like that?”

  Before Brooke could answer, Robin rushed out, her expression pinched and anxious. “Brooke!” she exclaimed. “Thank goodness! What were you thinking, riding off alone like that?”

  Brooke was taken aback. “I ride alone all the time at home,” she said. As Robin’s frown deepened, Brooke quickly added, “But I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was against the rules.”

  Robin glanced at the other girls. “All right, she’s obviously alive. Now get back to your tack cleaning—it’s almost time for lunch.”

  As the trio wandered off, whispering to one another, Brooke slid down from Foxy’s back. “I’m really sorry,” she told Robin. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. We just rode down to the water.”

  “The water?” Robin said. “That’s several miles away.”

  Brooke nodded, thinking back on the ride. “We ran into an old woman on the shore,” she said. “She seemed kind of, um, cranky.”

  “An old woman? What did she look like?”

  Brooke described the woman as best she could. “There was a girl with her too. Maybe fifteen or sixteen? She called the woman Miss Alice.”

  “Oh.” Robin’s expression cleared. “Yes, that would be Alice Foster. She lives in an old house overlooking the water—her family has owned the property for generations. But she lives alone, so I have no idea who the girl could have been.”

  Just then one of the adult boarders emerged from the barn. She flashed a quick, distracted smile in Brooke’s direction, then started babbling at Robin about a stone in her horse’s shoe.

  “Be right there,” Robin told the woman. “Brooke, put Foxy in the pasture and get washed up for lunch.”

  Brooke nodded, giving a tug on Foxy’s lead as the barn owner hurried away. “Come on, girl,” she said. “The fun’s over.”

  Foxy nickered, and Brooke smiled and rubbed her nose. Despite how their adventure had turned out, she couldn’t quite be sorry she’d had it.

  CHAPTER

  6

  MONDAY AFTERNOON PASSED QUICKLY FOR Brooke. After lunch, the younger campers went swimming and then had a horsemanship lesson. Unlike in the riding lesson, Brooke had no trouble keeping up, thanks to her lifelong habit of reading everything she could about horses. Robin complimented her several times on her knowledge, and the other girls seemed impressed too.

  That evening, after feeding the horses and having their own dinner, the whole group gathered in the living room to watch some horse videos, and by the time they’d finished, everyone was yawning. Brooke fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit her pillow, feeling only the slightest pangs of homesickness and thinking that maybe camp wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  But the next morning after breakfast, she was dismayed to discover that the younger campers were scheduled to spend the morning playing tennis.

  “It’ll be awesome!” exclaimed Abby, the counselor. She was a college student with short straw-colored hair, a snub nose sprinkled with freckles, and an enthusiastic attitude about everything. “Come on, gang, let’s hit the courts!”

  The girls piled into Robin’s old minivan and Abby drove them a few miles down the road to the same estate where they’d gone swimming the day before. Brooke glanced longingly at the pool as they passed it.

  “I wish we were going swimming again instead,” she murmured.

  She was talking to herself more than to the others, but Paige heard her. “Don’t you like tennis?” she asked.

  Brooke shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve never really played before except a couple of times, goofing off at the park.”

  She thought back a few summers to the day she and Adam had taught themselves to play using his parents’ old racquets. They’d spent more time trying to hit each other with the ball than actually following the rules. It had been fun—the kind of fun she and Adam used to have together all the time.

  Brooke’s smile faded as she tuned back in to the conversation in the van. The other girls were all discussing how long they’d been playing tennis, how many years of lessons they’d taken, and in Livi’s case, how many junior tournaments she’d won playing doubles with her sister.

  Yikes, Brooke thought. I guess that’s just one more thing they’re all better at than me.

  “Maybe you guys should go ahead and play without me,” she said. “I can just watch. I don’t mind.”

  “No way, Brooke!” Abby sang out from the driver’s seat. She pulled into a parking spot near the courts. “Life’s for living, not for watching. It’ll be fun!”

  Brooke winced. She’d known Abby less than twenty-four hours, and she could already tell “It’ll be fun!” was one of her favorite phrases.

  “Yeah, you’ve got to play,” Hannah added. “For one thing, we need four to play doubles.”

  Paige nodded. “You can be my partner, Brooke.”

  Brooke smiled weakly. “Um, okay.”

  It went about as well as Brooke might have predicted. The other girls all played as if they were warming up for Wimbledon, while Brooke didn’t even know how to serve properly until Paige showed her. Even then, Brooke could barely get the ball across the net.

  After her third or fourth flubbed serve, Brooke had had enough. As she hurried forward to retrieve the ball she’d just sent into the net, she feigned a stumble.

  “Ow!” she said. “Um, I twisted my ankle. I’d better sit out for a while—I don’t want to make it worse so I can’t ride.”

  “Are you sure?” Abby looked as if she wanted to argue, but instead she bit her lip and glanced at the other three girls. Hannah and Livi were trading a look, and Paige was staring at the ground. Brooke had the feeling they all knew she was bluffing, but she didn’t care. She gazed defiantly at Abby.

  “I’m positive,” she said, limping over and handing the counselor her racquet. “You can take my place. It’ll be fun.”

  Brooke ate her lunch as fast as she could, barely hearing the other girls’ chatter. The youngers were scheduled for their next riding lesson in a little while, and Brooke really wanted to spend some quality time with Foxy before everyone else got to the barn. Besides, she figured the pony could use some extra grooming. Even though Brooke had curried and brushed her several times since their arrival, Foxy still looked a little scruffy next to the pampered horses all around her.

  The barn was quiet when Brooke entered. Only a few horses were in their stalls waiting to be ridden instead of out in the pastures. Robin, Abby, and the other campers were still at lunch. None of the adult boarders were around, and Felicia had already finished her morning chores and gone home. Brooke was glad—she’d felt much better after her private time with Foxy the day before, and since it seemed she wouldn’t be allowed to repeat their solo ride, this would have to do.

  Foxy was outside in her
paddock when Brooke reached her stall, but the mare came inside at Brooke’s whistle. “Good girl,” Brooke said, rubbing her pony’s nose. “Ready for your beauty treatments?”

  Foxy snorted, which Brooke decided to take as a yes. She led Foxy out of the stall, clipped her into the nearest set of crossties, and went to work. She’d finished picking out Foxy’s hooves and was working on a muddy spot with a rubber curry when Paige entered.

  “Hey,” Paige said, wandering over with her usual friendly smile. “I thought you might be out here. Want some company?”

  Brooke already had all the company she wanted in Foxy. But it didn’t seem polite to say so, so instead she said, “Sure. I was just giving Foxy a good grooming.” She shot the other girl a shy sidelong look. “Your horses are all so sleek and shiny, it sort of inspired me.”

  “Aw, thanks.” Paige looked pleased by the compliment. “I can’t take all the credit, though. Snow is on full care at my home barn, and the grooms do an amazing job keeping her clipped and pulled and clean.” Suddenly her eyes lit up. “Hey, I have an idea. Want to pull Foxy’s mane? I could help you—I’m actually pretty good at it.”

  “Pull her mane?” Brooke glanced from Foxy, with her long, wild mane, to the horses in the nearest stalls. All of their manes were tidy and short. Brooke liked the look; she’d thought about pulling Foxy’s mane once about a year earlier after reading a how-to site on the Internet. But somehow she’d never gotten around to it.

  “Yeah.” Paige sounded enthusiastic. “She’d look adorable with a pulled mane! Like the world’s cutest show pony.”

  That made up Brooke’s mind. Foxy might not always act like she belonged here, but this way at least maybe she’d look the part.

  “Sure,” Brooke said. “Thanks. That would be great. How do we start?”

  “First let’s brush out her mane and get it all lying on the right side of her neck,” Paige said, digging into Brooke’s grooming bucket for a big plastic comb.