City Secrets

by Jessica Burkhart

  And two cars later, I saw the Foxes’ familiar car pull up. Paul got out and opened both doors, helping us into the backseat.

  “Off to Westchester, right, Heather?” Paul asked.

  “Right,” Heather said. “Thanks.”

  We buckled up and Paul drove out of the building’s driveway and up the busy streets of Manhattan.

  “How far is Westchester?” I asked. “I’ve never been there.”

  “Like, less than half an hour,” Heather said. “The last stable in Manhattan closed a while ago, and, besides, Westchester has a fab riding program.”

  I shifted one leg over the other, trying not to get nervous.

  Paul navigated through the traffic, and soon we were out of the city and heading north.

  “What’s your old stable like? Do you still have friends there?” I asked. I needed something before I just walked in and started riding.

  “It’s called Chesterfield Stables,” Heather said. “It’s a lot like Canterwood, minus the school. There are three arenas—two outdoor and one indoor. I think there are fifty-something stalls, and people can board their own horses or ride school horses. Lessons are offered before and after school for students, and there are late-night sessions for adult riders.”

  “Wow,” I said. I thought about Briar Creek, my old stable, and how it was nothing like Chesterfield. It had one outdoor arena and less than twenty stalls. It was a little run-down, but I’d loved it, and Charm and I had learned the basics there. Kim, my old instructor, had taught me all she could until she’d encouraged me to apply to Canterwood.

  “As for friends,” Heather said, “yeah, I’ve got some there. I haven’t seen them much, only if I get to Chesterfield to ride when I’m home, so I don’t know if they’ll be there or not.”

  “Maybe if your old school’s on break,” I said.

  “Like I had time to check the calendar for a school I don’t even attend,” Heather said.

  We both looked out the window as the car zipped along the highway.

  “Will your old instructor be there?” I asked. I knew Heather would be annoyed that I kept asking questions, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know more about the stable.

  “She should be,” Heather said. “Are you nervous or something?”

  “Yes!” I said. “I’m going to a new stable and I’m going to be riding a different horse. Plus, there might be people from your old school there and I’ve never met them.”

  And I didn’t say it, but I was secretly afraid that they were all like Heather was before we’d become friends. I just wanted to ride—not fight with mean girls.

  Heather sighed, and she looked less aggravated. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. If my friends are there, they’ll be totally cool because you’re with me. And my instructor will give you a good horse. When you tell her you’re on the YENT, she’ll know what you can handle. Trust me.”

  “Okay,” I said, letting out a breath. I tried to concentrate on the scenery. The farther away we got from the city, the more trees and smaller towns we drove through. Some were tiny upstate New York towns with signs that said population: 2,000. They were like villages. Even Union was bigger than that.

  “We’re in Bedford,” Paul said.

  “That means we’ll be at Chesterfield in, like, two minutes,” Heather said.

  My stomach swirled. Despite what Heather said, I was still nervous. It was my second year at Canterwood, and sometimes the fanciness of the stable still caught me off guard. I didn’t want to walk into Heather’s stable all wide-eyed and like I’d never been to a prestigious stable before. Mechanically I reached into my purse and pulled out the first lip gloss I could grab. Spearmint. Perfect. Hopefully the mint would somehow calm my stomach.

  “Silver,” Heather said. She was staring at me.

  “What?” I turned to look at her.

  “I said your name twice.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking.”

  “Well, stop. When we get out, try not to do anything embarrassing, okay? Like, don’t let go of a horse like you did on your first day at Canterwood.”

  The memory made my cheeks burn as I flashed back to my first day at Canterwood. I’d been leading Charm toward the stable when a car had backfired in the parking lot. Already antsy from the new surroundings, Charm reared and I’d been surprised. The lead line had slipped through my hands and he’d torn off across the campus. He’d headed toward the outdoor arena, where Heather and her horse, Aristocrat, had been practicing. Charm had spooked Aristocrat, and Heather had fallen off. It had been a great start to our relationship at Canterwood. Not.

  “I won’t,” I said. “And bringing that up made me feel so much better—thanks.”

  Paul flicked on the right blinker and turned onto a gravel driveway. We drove up a steady hill and passed light brown fences that seemed to stretch on for miles. At least a dozen horses grazed in the lush pastures on either side of the driveway, and I swallowed—this was just like Canterwood.

  The driveway leveled off and Paul pulled the car to the side of the massive stable. I couldn’t move—I just stared out the window. The glossy, seal brown stable looked as if it had been painted yesterday. Windows, trimmed in white, were everywhere. At the front, the sliding doors were open, and I peered around Heather to see inside.

  “Just get out of the car,” Heather hissed.

  “Right,” I said. I grabbed my helmet from the seat and got out as Paul opened my door.

  “Have fun riding, Sasha,” Paul said. He winked at me. “You’ll do great.”

  “Thanks,” I said, barely able to get out the word.

  Paul let Heather out of the car. “What time should I come back?” he asked Heather.

  “I’ll text you about an hour before we’re ready to go,” Heather said. “We’ve got something else to do after this, okay?”

  Paul nodded, smiling. “Understood. Don’t practice too hard.”

  He got into the car and headed back down the drive.

  Together, Heather and I stood and looked at her old stable. When I glanced over at her, I noticed she had an expression on her face that mirrored how I felt. Could it be that Heather Fox was a little intimidated by coming home?

  “Let’s stop standing here like idiots,” Heather said, pushing back her shoulders.

  She marched forward and I hurried after her. I glanced around at the arenas and saw that even on a superearly Monday morning, riders were practicing jumping and dressage in the arenas. Two older girls who looked like they were in college led stunning Dutch Warmbloods out of the stable, and Heather and I stepped over to give them room.

  “Gorgeous,” I breathed.

  “They’re all like that here,” Heather said. We stepped inside the stable and I had to force myself to keep walking and not stop in the middle of the aisle. Every stall was a box stall with black iron bars over the front. Some horses had their elegant heads poked over the stall doors. I saw a hot walker toward the end of the aisle, and there were dozens of pairs of cross-ties.

  “We have to go upstairs,” Heather said. “That’s where the offices are.”

  “Offices? Like, plural?”

  Heather took a right and I followed her. “Yeah. There are always at least five instructors working here. Some of them go out of town to show their own horses and they might be gone for weeks. So there needs to be someone to step in. My old instructor stopped showing because of a back injury, so she’s always here.”

  “How’d she get hurt?” I asked as we climbed a flight of stairs.

  “She was riding at the Red Hills trial and her horse stopped before a log jump. She flipped over his head and cracked a few vertebrae in her back. She couldn’t jump again after that—it would be too jarring on her back.”

  “That’s awful,” I said. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “I know. And she loves teaching, but it can’t be the same. I have no idea what I’d do if I ever got hurt like that.”

  “Me either.”
I shook my head, not even wanting to think about it.

  We reached the top of the stairs and walked past several closed office doors to one that was half-open.

  Heather knocked on the door. “Pam?”

  “Come in.”

  Heather pushed open the door and we walked inside.

  “Heather! It’s so good to see you,” the woman I assumed had to be Pam said, smiling.

  The petite brunette with her hair in a French braid got up and hugged Heather.

  “I’m glad to see you, too,” Heather said. “Sorry if Dad called you, like, a zillion times before I got here.”

  Pam waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I handled it. You know how much you need to practice for Canterwood’s schooling show. You don’t need me to babysit you while you ride here.”

  “Thanks,” Heather said. “And this is my . . . friend. Sasha. She’s on the YENT with me.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Pam said, shaking my hand. Her grasp was firm. “Congratulations on making the YENT. Not many do. It’s incredibly competitive.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” I said. “And I’m excited to be on the YENT. It’s hard work, but I love it.”

  Pam smiled. “You sound like one of my former students.” She looked at Heather.

  “Sasha’s ready to practice, just like I am,” Heather said. “Are any horses free?”

  Pam nodded. “Since your dad got in touch with me, I made sure I had two horses ready. And I think the indoor arena’s empty.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate you letting me ride here.”

  “Not a problem,” Pam said. She checked a clipboard on her desk, which was as organized as Mr. Conner’s. Every paper clip was in place, and manila files were stacked in neat piles.

  “Your horses are in stalls eighteen and nineteen. You can choose between yourselves which horse you’d like,” Pam continued. “You know the tack-room system, Heather, but ask a groom for help if you need it.”

  “I will,” Heather said. “Thanks. See you later.”

  “Bye,” I said.

  Pam waved us both out of her office. “Have a good session,” she called after us.

  Heather and I went down the stairs and she headed away from the aisle.

  “Let’s grab our tack,” Heather said.

  We walked a few yards down a side aisle that was lit from skylights. The walls were lined with championship ribbons—some from show circuits I’d never even heard of. Heather turned a brass knob on a closed door. The scent of leather and saddle soap felt immediately comforting. There were racks of saddles, bridles, and saddle pads all around the room. Every saddle was so shiny, I half-expected to see my reflection if I looked at one up close.

  “This tack room is amazing,” I said. “Do the grooms clean the saddles after every ride or something? They’re all so perfect.”

  “They don’t have time to do that,” Heather said, shrugging. “They just get a lot of use, so they never get dusty. And they’re so expensive, I’m sure their riders clean them every few rides.” She walked down the row and pointed. “Here’s our tack.” I looked closer and saw the saddle racks had golden plates with numbers inscribed on them.

  I lifted the Stübben all-purpose saddle and white saddle pad from the rack and looped the bridle over my arm. The snaffle bit gleamed—every inch of leather was supple and polished. Heather gathered her own tack and we left the tack room. The aisle was quiet, but the riders who were here looked like adults or college students. Most of the people our age were probably still in school—not everyone got fall break like we did.

  If my arms hadn’t been full of tack, I would have petted every horse in sight. These were some of the most gorgeous horses I’d ever seen. Not as handsome as Charm, of course. Just thinking about my chestnut Thoroughbred/Belgian gelding made my heart twist. I missed him so much. I knew Mike and Doug, my favorite Canterwood grooms, were taking excellent care of Charm, but I still worried about how he was doing without me. We were only apart on school breaks, and he followed me like a puppy whenever I got back to school.

  Heather and I reached stalls eighteen and nineteen and put the tack down on the trunks in front of the stalls.

  “Do you know these horses?” I asked, peering into stall eighteen. The nameplate said LIMITLESS. Inside, a lanky bay gelding with a star on his forehead munched on hay from the iron rack on the wall. He looked up at me and his dark brown eyes were friendly.

  The horse in stall nineteen, a black mare, had her head poked over the door and stretched her muzzle toward Heather. Her nameplate said cora.

  “They’re new,” Heather said. “I didn’t see either of them when I was here last time.”

  “Which one do you want?” I asked. It seemed only polite to let Heather have first choice since it was her old stable.

  “The mare’s fine,” Heather said. “Cool?”

  I nodded. “Totally.”

  I took the lead line off the hook by Limitless’s stall and unlatched his stall door.

  “Hi, boy,” I said. I held out my hand and walked toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  He turned his head away from the hay net and sniffed my arm. I clipped the lead line to the ring under his chin and rubbed his neck.

  “I’m Sasha,” I said, keeping my voice low. Heather would mock me for days if she heard me introducing myself to a horse.

  “Pam said I can ride you this week,” I said. “It’s important, since I’m practicing for a schooling show when I get back to my stable,” I added. “Ready to go for a ride?”

  Limitless’s eyes met mine and he looked ready. I petted his neck for a few more seconds, thinking about what it must be like to be a school horse. Different riders at least every week. Each rider had his or her own style of riding, and school horses didn’t know what to expect and had to adapt to every new rider.

  I led Limitless out of the stall, grabbed his tack box from his trunk, and found a pair of cross-ties a few stalls down. Cora walked obediently behind Heather as they followed Limitless and me. Heather tied Cora to the bars of an empty stall nearby so we could chat while we groomed them.

  “Are you freaking out about riding here?” Heather asked.

  “Not anymore,” I said. “Pam was so nice and welcoming. Plus it seems like we’ll have the indoor arena to ourselves.”

  “Good,” Heather said. “Because I want to practice hard. We’ve got the schooling show coming up and I’m not going to my first show on the YENT unprepared. You never know who might be at that circuit and we can’t look like losers.”

  I picked up the dandy brush and looked at Heather. “You don’t mean . . .”

  Heather ducked under Cora’s neck to look at me. “You never know. Just because she’s not showing for the YENT doesn’t meant she can’t be there competing at a different level.”

  I took a long breath. Neither of us had said her name, but we both knew the girl we were talking about—Jasmine King. Jas, an ultracompetitive rider, had transferred from her school—Wellington Preparatory—to Canterwood last semester. The girl was so mean she made Heather look angelic. But Jas had gone too far when she’d framed Julia and Alison for cheating on a history exam. They’d been kicked off the advanced riding team and hadn’t been given a shot at trying out for the YENT. We’d brainstormed ways to prove their innocence but had come up empty. Finally I’d caught Jas on tape bragging about how she’d framed them. It had been proof enough of Julia’s and Alison’s innocence. They were back on Canterwood’s advanced riding team and would soon be able to try out for the YENT.

  I realized I was just standing there—not brushing Limitless. I pushed Jasmine out of my head and started brushing. Jasmine wasn’t at Canterwood anymore. She wasn’t on the YENT, and there was nothing she could do to mess with Charm and me. There were other important things to focus on—like the schooling show.

  A few minutes later, I switched to a softer blue body brush and ran it across Limitless’s neck and back, flick
ing nonexistent dust from his coat. Chestnuts were my favorite, but I loved how bays shined. Beside me, Heather worked silently, seemingly caught up in her own thoughts.

  “Does it feel weird to be back here?” I asked. I took a soft cloth and wiped Limitless’s face.

  Heather shrugged. “Kind of. It’s weird coming back to a stable that used to be yours and to have people and horses you’ve never met be here.”

  “That’s how I felt when I visited Briar Creek, my old stable, after being at Canterwood,” I said. “It was strange to see my old instructor working with students I’d never met and not to have Charm in his old stall.”

  “Your stable wasn’t anything like this, was it?”

  Heather had never asked about Briar Creek. She’d mocked Union, my hometown, and had known that I’d come from a tiny stable without a reputation like Canterwood’s. But she hadn’t ever talked to me about Briar Creek’s facilities.

  “No, it wasn’t,” I said, deciding to be completely honest. “Our outdoor arena was more like a round pen with peeling paint. There were only a handful of stalls and not too many boarders. But Kim, my old instructor, kept it as clean as Canterwood and did what she could with repairs.”

  Heather nodded and started to saddle Cora. “Did Kim teach you the basics?”

  “Yeah, but she knew Briar Creek couldn’t give me what I needed to keep progressing. She encouraged my parents to help me apply to Canterwood and I did.” I paused, thinking about the bittersweet moment when I’d heard I’d been accepted.

  “It was weird, you know?” I said. “I loved Briar Creek and I was comfortable there. It was like my second home. Canterwood sounded so scary and intimidating. But I knew if I didn’t take the chance, I wouldn’t grow as a rider. So I took it.”

  I walked a few feet away to grab Limitless’s saddle and pad. I smoothed the pad onto his back and placed the saddle over it. He stood still while I tightened his girth and ran my hand under it, making sure none of his skin was pinched.

  I released the cross-ties and slid the reins over Limitless’s head. I put the bit on my palm and he opened his mouth without hesitation.