“This is the best trail!” I said. “It’s gorgeous out here.”
“We can keep walking and looking at the scenery,” Lexa said, “or we could go for a gallop. . . .”
I glanced at her. “Do you even have to ask?”
“On three!” Khloe said. I could feel the excitement in her voice.
I squeezed my knees a little tighter against Whisper’s sides, made sure my feet were secure in the stirrups, and leaned forward a bit. My heart pounded—adrenaline pumping.
“One . . . two . . . three!” Khloe said.
Four horses leaped forward at the same time. Dirt changed to grass, and the hoofbeats sounded musical. Whisper matched Honor and Polo stride for stride. Each horse engaged in an immediate battle with the others. Ever and Fuego caught us. All the horses fought stride for stride—not one horse wanting to be a stride behind the other.
Whisper’s gray mane blew back and she snorted, digging deeper. She found an extra burst of speed and jumped a half stride ahead. I rocked with her body, hearing only her. The horses around us disappeared. My only focus was Whisper and the feeling of her long, elegant strides covering the ground. It felt like magic.
AND THE OSCAR GOES TO . . .
Lauren Towers’s Blog
8:55 p.m.: Weekend wrap-up!
Yesterday was amaze! After my sleepover at R and C’s on Friday night, we went on a trail ride with D. The best part was watching Whisper have fun—she loved getting out of her stall and not heading straight to practice. K chose a trail I’d never been on, and it was très magnifique (really magnificent)! The horses got to stretch their legs, especially when we let them gallop. Whisper and I flew over the field, and I forgot that everything else existed.
No classes.
No R.
No drama.
No thinking about home.
No missing my friends.
No thinking abt boys.
No worrying abt riding.
Just riding. And loving it.
When I pulled Whisper up, I was next to D. I glanced at him and was glad to be back to reality. D and I are getting closer, very slowly, and he seems like a guy I can trust. Plus, there’s just something so interesting about him that I always feel like there’s so much we have to talk about. So much I want to know!
After the trail ride, C, K, D, and I walked our horses back to the stable, and D and I chatted the whole way back. We went as a group to The Sweet Shoppe and got ice cream. Everyone was excited from our ride, and we started talking about the schooling show.
Oh, mon Dieu!
It’s coming up faster and faster. One more weekend of practice and then . . . showtime.
Can’t.
Talk.
About.
It.
Too nervous. But I will say I’m going to practice a zillion times harder and work every spare second with Whisper. I know better than to overwork her, though, and, being with her just to talk is invaluable. I my horse.
Heading to bed now. K’s already snuggled in and reading a mag. I’ve got a copy of French Vogue waiting for me.
Night!
Xoxo
Posted by Lauren Towers
• • •
I closed my laptop lid and pushed back my desk chair. I unclipped my freshly showered hair and grabbed Bumble and bumble Prep and my smoothing serum from the caddy in the bathroom. Then I walked back to my bed and picked up a brush from my nightstand. Khloe had already dried her own hair and was in pjs—flowy baby-blue pants and a white tank.
Two quick knocks startled me, making me glance at Khloe and then at the door.
“No clue,” Khloe said. She put down her magazine.
I opened the door to a grinning Riley. Her slinky black hair shimmered around her shoulders. She’d paired a boatneck shirt—with PINK emblazoned across the front in neon blue—with black leggings.
“Hi, Lauren,” she said. “Can I come in for a sec?”
“Um, sure . . .”
Riley breezed by me and walked to my desk, sitting down in my chair. She spun it around to face Khloe, who’d sat up in bed.
“Hi, Khlo!” Riley chirped. “Read any good gossip?”
“Not really. Must be a boring week in Hollywood,” Khloe said. “What’s up?”
Translation: Why are you here, Riley?
“Omigosh, I had to come say hi to you guys!” Riley said. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in foreeeevvver. It felt like I was gone a lot longer than I was.”
I sat at the end of my bed, seeing Khloe’s thin smile.
“Funny,” Khloe said. “I thought time went by like that.” She snapped her fingers.
Riley’s smile was as fake as the sixty-carat “diamond” paperweight on my desk.
“I’m sure you all were so busy with school and riding,” she said. “I’m lucky that my teachers are so generous—they’re giving me extra time for my makeup work.”
She covered a yawn with her hand. “I didn’t have a second for homework. I barely slept!”
“Car horns and sirens too loud for you?” I asked.
Riley giggled, shaking her head. “Oh, no way. I could barely hear them. My aunt’s apartment is on the Upper East Side and on the twenty-fifth floor. I couldn’t sleep because I didn’t have time—I met with so many people.” She put a finger to her head and looked up to the ceiling. “Gosh, I can’t even remember all their names. Agents, casting directors . . .”
“Wow,” I interrupted. Riley was such a brat! She had no reason to come into our room and rub her experience in Khloe’s face. Not when it was Khloe’s dream too. “I bet you’re really exhausted.” I mimicked Riley’s yawn from earlier. “We were just about to go to sleep, so see you tomorrow?”
Riley stood. “Totally. I’ll tell you every detail at lunch!”
She let herself out, and I looked at Khloe. She held up a hand as if holding a microphone. “And the Oscar for best actress in a drama goes to Khloe Kinsella for her outstanding performance in I Don’t Care What You Did in New York, Arch-Nemesis.” Khloe bent her head in a bow and flopped back onto her pillow.
AND . . . ACTION!
“RILEY’S DOING AN AWESOME JOB OF MAKING sure everyone knows that she’s back on campus,” Khloe grumbled. “As if her ‘friendly’ invasion of our room last night wasn’t enough.”
We were walking together under Khloe’s giant umbrella. It was leopard print, with cat ears that stuck up and made it the cutest umbrella I’d ever seen. It was a foggy Monday morning, and rain fell gently around us. The gray sky was full of fat, puffy clouds that threatened to burst open into a downpour at any second.
I loved rainy days—they gave me an excuse to break out my shiny apple-red rain boots. I’d done my hair in a French braid this morning to avoid looking like a giant puff ball by second period. (Thanks, Mom, for the frizzy hair gene!) Khloe, not knowing how to French braid, had asked me to do her hair. Gladly, I’d taught her a new EBT (essential beauty trick). Now we both sported une tresse française.
“At least the day’s half over and we’ve got lunch next,” I said. “We can ignore Riley and enjoy free time.”
I pulled open the door to the cafeteria and paused to shake off the umbrella. Khloe followed me inside. We got in the lunch line, my stomach growling.
While we waited, I glanced around and saw something that made me want to grab Khloe and drag her out of the cafeteria. Riley sat on a lunch table, surrounded by a group of people in our grade. Her voice carried across the cafeteria, and everyone was staring at her as if she was telling them the most amazing, groundbreaking news in history.
“What’re you getting?” I asked Khloe, trying to get her attention. But I was too late. Her eyes were narrowed on Riley and her entourage.
“I’m not getting anywhere near that,” Khloe said. “I can imagine everything Riley’s saying without hearing it. It’s probably the long, epic version of what she wanted to tell us last night. Sorry, not interested.”
I scrunched my nose. “I
’m sorry, Khlo. It just shows how classless Riley really is. There’s a difference between sharing your experiences with someone and bragging about them. Sooner or later, trust me, people will get tired of the me-me-me act.”
Khloe smiled. Pink princess-cut cubic zirconia earrings—a loan from me—sparkled in her ears. “You’re a pretty decent best friend. Know that?”
I shrugged. “You might have said something like that once or twice.”
Lunch was buffet-style today. I gravitated toward the soup and salad bar. I filled a bowl with creamed spinach and cheese soup, then threw together a salad. Romaine lettuce, cucumbers, blue cheese crumbles, grape tomatoes, a few walnuts, and raspberry vinaigrette.
Looking at the tray caught me off guard for a second. I remembered that Mom and Dad had tried unsuccessfully for years to get me to eat their fave salad. I’d only tried it when Becca promised I’d like it or she’d eat anything of my choosing. As an eleven-year-old, that offer had been impossible to pass up. Much to Becca’s delight—her grin said I-was-right-but-I-won’t-rub-it-in-your-face—I loved the salad. A slice of strawberry cheesecake and a Sprite and I was set.
“Ready?” Khloe asked me. She had a grilled cheese and turkey sandwich, a handful of Goldfish, and a strawberry Vitaminwater.
“Ready.”
We started toward our usual table. The caf wasn’t too crowded. I liked that Canterwood allowed students to eat lunch at the on-campus restaurants twice a week. Khloe said it was a new rule this year. If only Riley had chosen today to have pizza at the Slice.
“I want to eat as far away from that as possible,” Khloe grumbled.
“I know it’s easier said than done, but put on your poker face. Become a character, maybe, who isn’t affected by Riley. If you look upset, you’re giving her what she wants.”
Khloe looked at me. “Go into character. You’re right.” She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. When she opened her eyes, her jaw relaxed, and there was a friendly Khloe smiling at me.
“Wow. You are seriously a très talented actress,” I said. “I’m trying to look half as nonchalant as you do right now.”
Khloe bumped her arm against mine. “You’re doing a good job, and your idea was brill. Let’s go!”
She’d no sooner finished her sentence when an arm shot up and waved from Riley’s table. Clare stood and left the table, heading toward us. She couldn’t see Riley’s expression. Riley was still talking to her new posse, but her eyes were on Clare’s back. Riley’s nostrils actually flared, and a tint colored her cheeks.
“Hey!” Clare said, reaching us. She was rocking army-green skinny jeans paired with a lace-knit white cardigan over a black crewneck long-sleeved shirt.
“You know that Riley looks like she wishes she had a tranquilizer dart to shoot into your back now, right?” Khloe asked, dropping her fake act. “She wants to drag your unconscious body back to her table.”
Clare rolled her eyes.
She didn’t chew her nails.
Or look over her shoulder.
Or start backing away to head over to Riley.
“I think Riley has plenty of company for the moment,” Clare said.
“Wow,” I said. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I didn’t believe you when you said you were going to start standing up to Riley, but I didn’t expect it to be like . . . well, like this. So soon.”
“It can’t be easy,” Khloe said. “You can go back. I’m glad you said hi to us.”
Clare shook her head. “Thanks, Khlo. I know what you’re trying to do. But I’m okay. I had a long talk with Riley yesterday about how I wanted our friendship to change.”
“How did she react?” I asked. People walked around us to get a table, but none of us moved.
“She didn’t believe me,” Clare said. “I could tell that she was thinking it was one of those times where I was just saying stuff and not going to follow through. She kept telling me to do whatever I wanted and that she didn’t care. Riley does care, though, and I know she was sure I’d sleep on it and not do anything. So I am. Right now.”
Khloe smiled. “Proud of you!”
“Thanks,” Clare said. “I’m not going to ask you guys to come sit with us—I’d never do that to you, but I did want to say hey.”
We talked for a few more minutes before Khloe and I headed to our table and Clare went back to her seat.
We put down our trays and sat down.
“That,” Khloe said, “was the biggest move against Riley that Clare’s ever made. Omigod.”
“I know! I felt bad after I said it for telling Clare that I was surprised about what she’d done, but I was so shocked. She’s such a quiet girl who doesn’t want to upset anyone. I never expected her to really follow through with what she told us.”
Khloe sipped her drink. “Maybe things are going to change around here.”
“We’ll see, huh?”
WIN
AFTER FRENCH CLASS, I HEADED TO GYM. I’D spent a lot of time in French thinking about Clare and Riley and Khloe. If Clare kept up her independence, I had no idea how Riley would react. Would she drop Clare as a friend? Retaliate against Clare? Against Khloe and me?
I stopped outside the gym doors and checked my BBMs.
Ana:
Happy (not!) Monday, LaurBell! Thought abt u this morning. Mom actually let me have sugar 4 breakfast (!) & I had a blue rasp Pop Tart. Remembered they r ur fav. Miss u. L
I wrote her back.
Lauren:
Aww! Miss u 2, A! I haven’t had a PT since I got here. Promise I won’t till we’re eating them 2gether during break. How’s everything w The Boyfriend?
There was a message from Brielle, too.
Brielle:
OMG, L!! Richelle from sci is such a teacher’s pet! She sits by me EVERY day (why?!) & makes me look so bad bc she answers every ? and does all this extra credit & stuff. Ugh. & this new transfer guy in English is so annoying. & it’s only Mon. Boo.
Lauren:
So sry, Bri! Richelle who? Richelle Ward or Richelle Thomas? Why is Transfer Guy annoying? I know . . . feels like it’s gonna b a long wk! Miss u!
I frowned and shoved my phone in my bag. That’s how all of Brielle’s latest messages had been. All about Yates and my ex-classmates. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know about it or that she wasn’t allowed to complain to me. I wanted her to ask how I was doing, though. Ana always did. Bri and Ana were very different people, but Brielle always used to BBM me to check on me if I went home after school with even a frown on my face.
In the locker room, I changed into my gym uniform—dark green shorts and a white T-shirt. Robotically, I laced up my Nikes. You and Bri did have that awesome Skype chat, I reminded myself. Bri had even “met” Khloe. That made me feel a little better. Bri probably thought she was making me feel better still talking about Yates as if I went there.
I closed my locker and walked to the bleachers, taking a seat with the other girls. Today it was just girls. I wished Drew had gym today so we could talk.
But at least I had forty-five minutes to work out and clear my head. I needed my Bri issues to be gone by the time I got to my riding lesson. Every second with Whisper counted. The schooling show was less than two weeks away, and there was no time to focus on anything else when I got to the stable.
“Are you okay, Lauren?”
Reluctantly I looked up at the familiar voice. Riley stood next to me, her black hair in a high, bouncy ponytail.
“I’m fine . . . thanks.” I wanted to play nice if Riley was acting cool. This fresh start was important to Clare, and it would impact Khloe so much. I forced a smile. “Why did you think something was wrong?”
In the narrow space between bleachers, Riley stretched. She put one red-and-silver Reebok next to me, leaning forward to touch her fingertips to her shoe.
“Oh, you looked lost in thought or something. Must have misread you.” She switched legs. “But I do want you to know that if you’re worried about anythin
g . . .” She paused, looking at me with a soft glance. “I’m here. Clare really wants to change our friendships and she’s my bestie, so I want to try for her.”
Whoa. Something about this was way too easy and fast.
“You were so mad that Khloe, Lexa, and I slept over at your place,” I said. “Now you’re completely over it?”
Riley sat next to me. “I was mad until I talked to Clare. Okay, and even for a little while after. But I thought about what she was really asking me—and you and Khloe—to do. Clare wasn’t asking for us all to wear friendship bracelets and become BFFs.”
I shook my head. “No, she wasn’t.”
“She was asking that we coexist. Be civil. Maybe it’ll turn into new friendships. Maybe it won’t.”
“You and Khloe might become friends?” I asked.
Riley grinned. “Yeah, so, that one’s a little less likely to happen. But Clare is my best, closest friend. If it makes her upset that we can’t all be in the same room without fighting—I understand. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”
I stared at Riley. Hard. Something about this still didn’t feel right. If Riley was Clare’s best friend like she claimed, she would have known all this was going on. Wouldn’t she have tried to stop fighting with Khloe for Clare’s sake a long time ago?
“I’m willing to try too,” I said cautiously. “It will help our riding team, too, if we’re all getting along.”
Riley nodded. “Exactly. The show season’s about to get majorly competitive. I mean, this schooling show seems like a teensy thing, but everyone knows it’s not.”
It wasn’t?
“Right.” I played along as if I knew what she was talking about.
“The schooling show is just a way for every rider from the surrounding schools to size up the competition. It’ll give us the chance to know who to watch, who’s best at what, and in return, the other riders will see who’s weakest on our team.”
I swept my eyes over the gym, suddenly very over this conversation. Where was Mr. Warren, anyway?!
“Oh, I hope I didn’t make you nervous,” Riley said, touching my upper arm.
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