On the way back to our cross-ties, Heather grabbed a bottle of kiwi-strawberry Snapple out of the fridge and took a long sip. She offered the bottle to me. I took a drink and handed it back to her.
“Thanks,” I said.
We untacked the horses, and the grooms came and took the tack from us.
I brushed dried sweat off Limitless’s coat with the dandy brush and took extra care to make sure he was totally cool and clean. I ran my hand down his left foreleg and he immediately lifted his leg. He didn’t lean against me like some horses did while I picked his hooves. I ran a dry cloth across his bay coat and made sure he had the same sheen as when I’d found him in his stall. I ran a comb through his mane and tail and stepped back to look at him.
“You’re such a gorgeous guy,” I said to him. He bobbed his head and it made me laugh—that was something Charm would do. He always knew when I complimented him. I hugged Limitless and took in the scent of hay and the sweet horse smell. “Thanks for being so good today, boy.”
“Are you still talking to your horse?” Heather asked. She raised an eyebrow. “It’s definitely time to leave. Put Limitless away and let’s go. Paul should be here any second, if he’s not already outside.”
I unclipped him from the cross-ties and led him to his stall. I rubbed his neck again. “See you soon,” I whispered.
I left him munching hay and I slid the bolt closed on his stall door.
Heather and I washed our hands and brushed our hair in the bathroom, then we left the stable and walked out to the gravel driveway. Paul was indeed already waiting for us, and he got out of the car as soon as he saw us approaching.
“Hi, girls,” he said. He opened the door and Heather got inside. I walked around to the other side of the car and stopped for Paul, still feeling awkward at waiting for someone to let me into the car. I could open the door myself! But I knew it would just irritate Heather if I didn’t let Paul do his job, so I stood until he let me into the car.
I slid into the comfy seat, letting out a sigh.
Heather looked over at me with a coy smile. “Too much for you, Silver?”
“No way,” I said. “That was a happy sigh. We had a great practice. I can’t wait to do it again.”
“Uh-huh,” Heather said, not sounding at all as if she believed me.
“How was your lesson?” Paul asked as he buckled his seat belt.
“Great,” Heather said. “We actually kind of challenged each other, and we definitely got a lot done.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Paul said. “Now where can I take you ladies?”
“Luxe Nail Salon,” Heather said. “But we were never there, okay? We’ve been at the stable this entire time.”
Paul smiled at us in the rearview mirror. “Of course you were.” He didn’t question us at all as he drove down Chesterfield’s driveway and back toward Manhattan.
I looked down at my ragged nails, which were gross and had dirt under them from spending the day at the stable.
Heather and I were quiet on the ride back to Manhattan. There wasn’t much traffic and it took just under an hour to reach the city. Paul must have taken Heather or Mrs. Fox to the Luxe Nail Salon a lot because he knew exactly where to go—no GPS directions needed.
We pulled up to the curb and Paul turned around to face us. “I’ll be back in about an hour and a half,” he said. “Okay?”
“Totally,” Heather said. “Thanks, Paul.”
I smiled at him and got out of the car behind Heather. The nail salon was adorable. The overhang was bright pink, and the entire place was done up in pink and white. Heather walked up to the counter, and the woman behind it looked up, smiling at her.
“I’m Heather Fox,” she said. “We need two mani/pedis. My mother has a credit card on file here, so please charge it to her account.”
“Of course, Miss Fox,” said the woman. “We have two open chairs, so if you both would choose your colors and go to the last two seats at the end, we’ll get started.”
“Won’t your mom see the credit card bill and know we were here?” I asked.
“She never checks that stuff,” Heather said. “And even if she did, we’d be back at school by the time she noticed.”
If Heather wasn’t going to worry about it, I wouldn’t either.
Heather and I walked over to shelves of nail polishes. I’d never seen so many.
“I have nooo idea what color to get,” I said. “They’re all so pretty!”
Heather’s gaze was locked on the red section. “I need a power color,” she said. She picked up two different reds. “Which one?”
One was slightly pink, so I point to the cherry-colored one. “Definitely that one.”
“Agreed,” she said.
“You should get something chic,” she said. “You’re in the city. Get your nails cut supershort and do a dark brown or a black. If you did black, you could coat it with a light glitter.”
“Oooh, that sounds fun,” I said.
I selected OPI’s Black Onyx and a sheer, glittery shade to go over it. We passed women relaxing in the pedicure massage chairs, reading US Weekly or The New Yorker. Heather and I sat down in our chairs, pulled off our boots and socks then rolled our breeches up to our knees.
I looked at my stubbly legs and wished I’d shaved last night. Ooops.
Two manicurists slid into the rolling stools in front of us and ran water in the basins in front of us. They added an emerald green liquid that smelled so good—like eucalyptus.
“Test the water to see if it’s too hot,” my manicurist said. I dipped my foot in the water, then stuck both feet in.
“It’s perfect, thank you,” I said.
She turned on jet bubbles and pulled down my armrests. “Here’s your massage controller.”
While my feet soaked, I played with my massage controller. It was like an oversize TV remote with buttons that lit up in orange when I pushed them. I could have my lower back kneaded, pounded, or rolled. There was even a button to slide the massager up and down my back, neck, and shoulders depending on where I wanted it. Another button to turned the heat on and off. I closed my eyes as it eased the tension from my neck and worked its way down to my lower back.
I peeked over at Heather and saw that her head was tilted back as the massage chair worked its magic on her.
A few minutes later our manicurists reappeared, and mine lifted my right foot out of the water and removed my old nail polish.
“Cut or just file?” she asked.
“File, please,” I said.
She got to work on my toenails, and once they were shaped, she rubbed my feet and lower legs with a scrub that smelled like vanilla. Lotion was next and I could feel how soft my feet were without even touching them. She slipped my feet into cozy flip-flops and wound cotton between my toes. Nail polish remover wiped any lotion off my nails, and then she applied two coats of the black polish.
“Nice,” Heather said, looking over.
“Thanks.” I glanced over at her toes. They were a gorgeous red. “Yours look so pretty. The color looks great.”
Heather glanced at her own toes and nodded. “Good choice, Silver.”
Once a coat of shimmer was applied to my toenails, the manicurist helped me out of the massage chair and took Heather and me to two side-by-side, pretty pink tables for our manicures.
The manicurist repeated on my nails the process she’d just done on my toes. She knew just how short to make them to make the black polish look cool instead of scary.
After our nails were painted, the manicurists led Heather and me to the dryers. They turned them on, and our toes and fingers were blasted with heat and a UV light. While our nails dried, the manicurists massaged our backs and necks.
I wanted to live here. Or at least get a mani/pedi here every day.
“Thank you, girls,” they said as they finished our massages. “Please come again.”
“Thank you,” Heather and I said.
“I always dry fo
r two cycles,” Heather said. “Otherwise, your nails might smudge.”
I nodded, not wanting mine to smudge. Any chips or smudges would be especially visible with the black polish.
We sat through two drying cycles and then tested our nails.
“Mine are dry,” I said.
“Mine too,” Heather said.
We put our boots back on and waved at the manicurists on the way out.
“Thanks!” I said.
They smiled at us and we went to the curb to wait for Paul.
“Um, I just thought of this, but won’t your mom notice that we got our nails done?” I asked.
“No way,” Heather said. “She only talks to me when she has to, and even then she’s not really looking at me. There’s no way she’ll notice our nails. Trust me. I’ll tell her we just got back from riding, which we really kind of did, and that’ll be it.”
“Okay,” I said. But I couldn’t help worrying just a little. I didn’t want either of us to get in trouble.
I glanced around, not sure what part of the city we were in.
“We’re just a few blocks away from my apartment,” Heather said, answering my unspoken question. “Stop glancing around like you’re lost.”
I kept my head still, but my eyes roamed over the street. Traffic flowed up and down—a never-ending stream of cars. People moved at a steady pace along the sidewalks, able to somehow text or talk on a BlackBerry and carry a giant Starbucks cup while not running into anyone. I definitely wasn’t a New Yorker yet—if I tried that, I’d spill coffee all over myself and whomever I bumped into.
“There’s Paul,” Heather said. She looked down the street and we watched as he pulled up to the curb. We got into the car, and the ride to the penthouse seemed to take seconds instead of minutes.
We took the elevator, walked down the hallway, and Heather let us into the apartment. We tugged off our boots and I stretched my arms.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said. I was gross from the stable.
“Me too,” Heather said.
We headed toward the hallway and almost smacked into Mr. Fox.
“Dad,” Heather said. There was surprise in her voice. “You’re home early.”
She said the second sentence much more calmly. I wanted to jam my newly manicured hands into my pockets, but my breeches didn’t have any. Calm down, I told myself. It’s not likely that Mr. Fox is looking at your nails.
“I left paperwork here,” Mr. Fox said. “I’m going back to work in a few minutes.” He looked so intimidating in his black suit, stark white shirt, and red tie.
“Okay. See you later,” Heather said.
Yes! Made it! I thought.
“Wait a minute,” Mr. Fox said. “I want to hear about your practice session. Pam was supposed to have the indoor arena reserved, and two of her best horses were to be available.”
“We had the arena to ourselves, and Sasha and I got perfect horses,” Heather said. “We worked through a solid warm-up, and then ran through flatwork and jumping. We coached each other and neither of us held back on our critiques.”
Mr. Fox glanced at me. “Is it enough for you, Heather, to have another competitor critiquing you? Or do you need Pam or another instructor to oversee lessons for the rest of the week?”
“We’re fine, Dad,” Heather said. Tension was inching into her voice. “We’re both on the same team and it wouldn’t benefit either of us to work against the other.”
Mr. Fox stared at both of us for several looong seconds before he nodded. “All right. But I don’t want any reports from Mr. Conner when you return to school that your riding is not up to par. Understood?”
Mr. Fox was speaking to Heather, but I found myself nodding along with her.
“Okay, Dad,” Heather said.
Mr. Fox stepped around us and headed for the door.
Blowing out a breath of relief, I followed Heather down the hallway, and without saying a word, we went to our rooms.
11
SUGAR HIGH
AFTER BREAKFAST ON TUESDAY MORNING Heather pushed back her chair and motioned for me to get up.
“What?” I asked.
“We’re not going riding today. My parents already left, so they’ll never know.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I don’t want to get caught.”
Heather smoothed her royal purple v-neck tee. “We won’t get in trouble. Relax. Since you’re here with a real New Yorker, I thought you needed to see the best parts of the city.”
I opened my mouth to defend Paige, since Heather knew I’d stayed in the city with her and Paige was a “real New Yorker” too, but I stopped myself.
“That sounds really fun,” I said. “It’ll be cool to have you show me around. Thanks.”
Heather snorted. “Please. Don’t get all soap opera-y on me. I just don’t want to go riding, and all of the places I’m taking you are spots I haven’t been to in a while and have wanted to visit.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let me grab my purse.”
“And not that you would,” Heather called after me, “but don’t wear heels. You’re going to want comfortable shoes to walk around in.”
I didn’t bother responding to her comment. Instead I walked into the guest room and grabbed my black flip-flops and my purse. I passed the full-length mirror and checked my reflection. If we were going out in the city, I wanted to look good. Maybe I’d run into a celebrity!
My dark-wash jeans looked good with my pale pink keyhole top. I’d straightened my hair this morning, and so far it hadn’t gotten wavy. The tiny amount of makeup I’d applied earlier—concealer, mascara, and blush—was still in place.
I grabbed my purse off the bed and reached for my phone on the nightstand.
The red light was blinking, which meant I had a message. I flipped open my phone and saw one new text. I opened the message. Sasha, I’m so, so sry. Pls call me? Or txt me. I just want to talk. ~Paige
I stared at the message for a few seconds before I deleted it and shoved my phone into my purse. Heather and I were going out exploring today—I didn’t have time to call or text Paige back right now.
When we got into the waiting car, Paul already seemed to know where to go.
“So are you going to tell me where we’re going or are you going to blindfold me till we get there?” I asked.
“Knew I forgot something,” Heather said. “Whatev, I’ll tell you. We’re going to Rockefeller Center,” Heather said. “Did you go there with Paige?”
“Uh, no,” I said, caught off guard. “We meant to, but we didn’t have time.”
“Good. Then you’ll get to see it right. It’s always busy, but it shouldn’t be ridiculous with a zillion people, like it is during the holidays.”
“That would be annoying.”
“It is. The tourists take pictures of everything, and you can’t move. Police try to direct them across the streets because they don’t understand how the street signs work, but you always hear on the news about someone getting hit by a taxi or something.”
“Whoa,” I said. “Now I’m definitely glad it’s not Christmas or anything.”
Heather nodded. “I mean, the tree and the lights are gorgeous, but it’s just a mass of swarming people. Ugh.” She grinned. “I think every New Yorker who has to work near Rock Center probably throws a party when the holidays end.”
I laughed. “Probably. They’re taking back their city.”
It took Paul less than ten minutes to reach Rock Center. “We’re going to walk around for a while,” Heather said. “I want to show Sasha a bunch of shops and stuff. Can you meet us back here in a couple of hours?”
Paul nodded. “Sure thing. Be safe and call me if you need anything.”
Heather got out of the car and I followed her. I looked up and saw NBC’s Today Show studio. The actual studio I saw on TV! The walls were glass, and a giant ticker with red letters scrolled the latest headline news. Heather and I walked closer and stopped, peering throu
gh the glass. Inside they were filming and I recognized one of my favorite anchors.
“This is so cool!” I said. It looked so different on TV. The actual studio was filled with hundreds of carefully positioned lights, and a maze of wires was taped to the floor. Heather and I watched as the anchors discussed the morning’s news and read their lines from giant cue cards and a teleprompter.
“It’s kind of surreal to see people you watch on TV in person,” Heather said. “The first time I walked by the studio, it was nothing like I expected. I guess I only thought I’d see the set I was used to seeing from my TV screen. I didn’t think about the camera crew, sound guys, and all of the lighting.”
“I definitely didn’t expect to see any of that,” I said.
We left the Today Show studio and Heather pointed down over a railing. “That’s where the ice rink is set up for the winter. It’ll probably open in a month or two, depending on the weather.”
I looked around at the various statues that were placed around the space. There were so many things to look at—it was almost dizzying.
“You have to see the concourse next,” Heather said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” Heather said.
Heather and I walked through a light crowd and took steps downstairs.
“So there are a bunch of subway train lines down here—not that I’d use them,” Heather said. “We’re at Forty-seventh Street at Rock Center. But if you don’t keep going downstairs to the trains, it’s beyond awesome.”
We stopped in front of ATM machines and Heather pointed. “There’s a book publisher that way. But if we go left, we’ll start hitting the shops.”
“I’m just stuck on the fact that there’s an underground shopping center,” I said. “This would be the place to shop and eat during gross days.”
“Definitely,” Heather said.
We walked past a Starbucks with a Subway across from it. A few policemen patrolled the area, and as soon as we got away from the subway entrances and exits, it got quieter. And as we kept walking, I almost couldn’t believe something this cool existed underground. It felt like one of those things you’d want to keep secret and not tell anyone else about.
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