Take the Reins

by Jessica Burkhart

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN MIX

  Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  Copyright © 2009 by Jessica Burkhart

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ALADDIN, ALADDIN MIX, and related logo are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Library of Congress Control Number 2008928592

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4391-5340-6

  ISBN-10: 1-4391-5340-X

  Visit us on the World Wide Web:

  http://www.SimonSays.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Alyssa Eisner Henkin, my fab agent, you took a huge chance on me and I’m so grateful. You and the A-list rock! Molly McGuire, my former editor, thank you for giving Sasha and Charm a home. Kate Angelella, my supercool editor, thank you for taking this project and injecting it with your insight and limitless enthusiasm. Thank you to everyone at Simon & Schuster who worked on this book.

  Jason, I our Mario Kart duels. (You don’t have to admit that I won. A lot.) Thanks to my family, friends, and blog readers for letting me ramble (endlessly!) about my Canterwood world.

  Em Hendricks, you kept me laughing. Ella Bográn, your support means so much. Emily Wilkinson, our wonderful childhood horsey adventures still inspire me. Pam Staton, you and Apple Jacks gave me everything I needed for this book. Dawn Loren, I wouldn’t be the girl I am without you.

  For Mom and Dad,

  thank you for always supporting my writing dream

  and for never telling me to find a “fallback” career.

  I love you!

  CONTENTS

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  1 OUR FANTABULOUS ENTRANCE. NOT.

  2 WINCHESTER A. BUTKIS HALL

  3 HOT BOY POSTERS AND MAC ’N’ CHEESE

  4 PART OF A FAMILY

  5 SORRY, WRONG WAY

  6 PERFECT PAYBACK

  7 BEGINNER’S LUCK

  8 TRAIL RIDING AND DAYDREAMING

  9 F IS FOR FRIDAY

  10 WHO’S AFRAID OF A LITTLE FRIENDLY COMPETITION?

  11 HE SMELLED MY LIP GLOSS

  12 I DON’T WANT YOUR STUPID SWEATSHIRT

  13 THE NEW SASHA

  14 JACOB LOVES…COTTON CANDY

  15 CHARM GETS A NEW ’DO

  16 TWO BLUE RIBBONS, FOUR GIRLS, AND SOME SERIOUS ATTITUDE

  17 SASSY SILVER SCORES BIG

  18 THE FOXES AND THE SILVERS: ONE BIG, UNHAPPY FAMILY

  19 MEET THE PARKERS

  20 SOMETIMES, EVEN BLOND SMURFS PLAY NICE. BUT ONLY SOMETIMES.

  21 IT’S NOT ABOUT FRIENDSHIP

  22 THE S.I.N.G. TECHNIQUE IS GOOD FOR LOTS OF THINGS….

  23 MR. CONNER’S NOT-SO-SECRET HIDING SPOT

  24 GOTTA GET A GOOD GRADE

  25 THE ONLY ONES SLEEPING

  26 NOT EVEN LUCK WILL HELP YOU NOW

  27 A WELL-DESERVED WALK

  28 ONE BIG QUESTION AND A LITTLE PARTY PLANNING

  29 LISTEN TO OTHER PEOPLE’S CONVERSATIONS MUCH?

  30 BITTERSWEET ALMOST-VICTORY

  31 YOU DON’T SUCK

  32 AND THE ADVANCED TEAM IS…

  33 CANTERWOOD SASHA

  34 HEATHER’S CONFESSION

  1

  OUR FANTABULOUS ENTRANCE. NOT.

  MY PARENTS’ SUV ROLLED INTO THE SCHOOL’S parking lot, past the imposing, ivy-covered wrought-iron gates. I had seven types of lip gloss in my purse and not one was Canterwood Crest Academy worthy. Peach and lime—too summery. Marshmallow and sugar cookie—too Christmassy. Reluctantly, I settled on strawberry.

  “Mom,” I whispered, dabbing gloss on my lower lip—desperate situations really amp up my lip gloss addiction—“are you sure about this?” The rearview mirror caught my reflection. My naturally tan face was pale and I’d slathered on so many coats of lip gloss, my lips had turned cotton-candy pink. Oops.

  “You’re going to be fine, Sasha. You were a great rider at Briar Creek!” Mom turned in her seat to look at me. She tucked a strand of golden-brown hair—the same color as mine—behind her ear.

  I waved my hand toward the window. “This is not Briar Creek,” I said, “I’ll be lucky if I make the beginner team here.”

  “You’re an excellent rider,” Dad said, pulling into a parking space and cutting the engine. “Don’t even talk like that.”

  Parents are required to say stuff like that so they don’t ruin their kid’s self esteem. I’d seen an Oprah about it.

  I tried one of those deep-breathing exercises from my yoga DVD. In May, when my acceptance letter had come from school, I’d taken up yoga. The thought of switching schools and riding for a new stable had been enough to give me major stress. But I couldn’t do any worse here than I had at UMS—Union Middle School—in my hometown of Union. Maybe I’d make real friends here. Breathe in, and then out. In, out.

  “All right, Sash,” Dad said. “Let’s go.”

  Reluctantly, I opened the door and took in the scene around me. Everything looked different, bigger somehow, than when I’d toured the campus in April. Beautiful stone buildings with climbing ivy, rolling green hills, lush trees with not one dead leaf to be found. And, best of all, a gorgeous, dark-lacquered stable ahead in the distance.

  “Smile! Say hi to Grandma and Grandpa, honey.” Dad said, shoving his camcorder in my face. “This is Sasha’s first day of seventh grade. Wave to the camera, Sasha.”

  “Dad!” I hissed. Oprah would so totally disapprove of this! I reverted to my yoga breathing. In, out. In, out.

  He beamed. “Sasha’s first day at boarding school. I remember when—”

  Oh, my God. “Dad! Stop filming!” I slammed my palm over the lens. “Not. Now.”

  “Oh.” Dad lowered the camcorder and switched off the blinking red light. “Sorry.”

  Mom read the instruction sheet for students coming to school with horses. “It says to unload your horse in this lot,” Mom said. “And follow the signs to the stable area.”

  At least there were signs, since I probably wouldn’t remember the way after five months.

  Dad put away the camcorder and helped me unload my horse. Charm pawed the trailer floor—eager to get out. He had been in the trailer for two hours.

  Charm, with nostrils flaring, backed down the trailer ramp. “Please behave,” I whispered to him. He pranced in place and huffed as he eyed his new home. His chestnut coat glistened, his gold halter rings flashing in the sunlight. Charm was acting like a yearling instead of an eight-year-old gelding. I touched the tiny silver horse charm on the bracelet my parents had given me for good luck last night, our last night together before Canterwood.

  “We’ll go park the trailer and find you in the stable when we’re done,” Mom said.

  “You’re leaving me alone?”

  “Oh, honey,” Mom said, squeezing my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. And we’ll be right back.”

  “Promise?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Promise.”

  My slick hands could barely grip Charm’s lead line. Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Ready, boy?”

  My lips felt dry. I dug in my pocket for my strawberry gloss and globbed more on. Together, Charm and I followed a sign that read STABLE, with an arrow that pointed down a grassy path. Iron signs directed riders to cross-country courses and trail riding paths. As we approached the stable, the familiar scent of horses, hay, and grain soothed me more than
my breathing exercises or lip gloss ever would.

  Wow, Canterwood is even more gorgeous than I’d remembered, I thought, surveying the gleaming paddocks. The lush grass looked as if someone had cut it with fingernail clippers. There wasn’t a clump of horsehair or a wisp of hay out of place. Even the stones around the bushes by the sidewalks looked polished.

  This place made Briar Creek look like a dollhouse-size operation. I still couldn’t believe I’d been accepted to Canterwood and was about to start riding for their nationally recognized riding program!

  Charm tugged me forward. “Easy,” I murmured.

  Just then, a boom came from the parking lot. At the same moment that I realized it had just been a car backfiring, my hand shot out to grasp Charm’s halter. With a snort, he reared up toward the bright blue sky. The lead line seared my palms as it slipped out of my hands. I stumbled backward and made a frantic swipe for the end of the rope, but Charm bolted forward before I could grab it.

  Oh, my God, this couldn’t be happening! In the distance, I could see Charm’s lead line dangling between his legs. He could seriously hurt himself if he got tangled in the rope.

  “Charm!” I yelled, sprinting after him. He galloped toward a cluster of students and then swerved to avoid them. He flew by the paddocks and headed for the arena, his hooves pounding the ground in quick beats.

  “Loose horse!” I screamed.

  Charm’s ears swept back in fear. The whites of his eyes were visible, even from far away. Charm quickened his pace to a flat gallop. Thirteen hundred pounds of glistening chestnut zoomed around the grass.

  “Here, Charm!” He slowed to a fast canter and turned toward a much darker chestnut Thoroughbred in the arena. The horse’s shoulder muscles rippled under his shiny coat. A slight girl with blond hair that peeked out from beneath a black velvet riding helmet was riding the Thoroughbred.

  “Watch out!” I yelled to the girl. But if she heard me, she didn’t show it.

  Charm flew past the Thoroughbred and knocked over a row of orange cones lined up on the outside of the arena. A cone tumbled right into the Thoroughbred’s path; he reared and stretched high into the air. For a second, it looked like he would tip backward onto the girl.

  My breath caught. All I could do was stare. The girl flipped off her horse’s back and landed in the arena dirt.

  Oh. My. God.

  This was my worst nightmare.

  “Charm!” I almost didn’t believe it when Charm finally slowed into a trot. I grabbed his lead line with shaking hands. His sides heaved and the whites of his eyes receded as he began to calm. I pulled him into the arena entrance, ignoring my burning palms. We ran over to the girl who hadn’t moved since her fall.

  “Oh, my God, are you okay?” I asked. Charm stood still next to me and lowered his head.

  “Where’s my horse?” the girl asked, her voice surprisingly strong for someone who had just had a serious fall.

  “Right over there,” I pointed. “He looks okay,” I said, hoping that was true as I looked over to where he stood at the far end of the arena. The girl struggled to sit up.

  “Wait,” I said. “Should you sit up?”

  The girl wiped dirt from her eyes.

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  “Just help me take off my helmet.”

  My trembling fingers unfastened her chin strap and I lifted the helmet from her head. “I’m so, so sorry. Please let me go get help.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark-haired girl duck under the fence and grab the Thoroughbred’s reins.

  “Mr. Conner is coming, Heather,” she said, leading the Thoroughbred. Charm lifted his head to eye the new horse, who stood quietly and peered down at his rider.

  “Thanks, Callie,” the blonde—Heather—said.

  “Did you hurt anything?” Callie asked.

  Heather wiggled the fingers on her left hand. “This arm.”

  “Is Heather’s horse okay?” I asked Callie.

  Callie’s dark brown eyes flickered over Heather and then toward me. She felt the horse’s legs. “I don’t feel any heat. Aristocrat seems fine to me.”

  My old instructor, Kim, had taught me that, too. If Callie felt any heat, Aristocrat could have sprained or pulled something.

  “Thank God,” Heather moaned. “We have a show in a month.”

  “Thank you so much for grabbing him!” I said to Callie. “I can’t believe that happened on my first day!”

  A tall man with thick, dark hair strode over. I recognized him immediately from the Canterwood Crest Academy website: Mr. Conner, my riding instructor. And he definitely wasn’t happy.

  “What happened?” he asked, kneeling down to check on Heather.

  “My horse got loose, sir,” I confessed, my voice shaky. “He spooked and I couldn’t hold onto him.”

  “Who are you?” Mr. Conner asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Sasha Silver. I’m new this year.” I wondered if I would set a school record by getting expelled on my first day.

  Mr. Conner felt Heather’s arm from her shoulder to her fingers. “Nothing feels broken. But let’s get you to the nurse, Heather, just to make sure.”

  Heather clutched her right arm. “It hurts, Mr. Conner.”

  Mr. Conner motioned to Callie. “Callie, please take Aristocrat back to the stable, untack him and be sure he’s fed.”

  “Yes, sir,” Callie said. “I saw what happened. It really was an accident.”

  I mouthed a silent thank you to Callie and she smiled in return before leading Aristocrat out of the arena.

  “I’m feeling kind of dizzy,” Heather said. “Could I sit for one more second?”

  “Of course,” Mr. Conner said, kneeling beside her. “Take a few deep breaths.”

  What if she had head trauma? How could I tell Mom and Dad that in the ten minutes they left me alone, this happened? No way would yoga breathing be enough to calm them down if I got expelled my first ten minutes at Canterwood.

  “Were you not taught how to control a spooked horse?” Mr. Conner asked. “You’re not here to learn the basics.”

  I couldn’t believe this! First days were for good impressions. Charm and I had been practicing harder than ever lately. We’d worked all summer on form and jumping—sometimes thirty hours a week.

  “It happened so fast,” I said. “I wasn’t able to catch him.”

  Charm shifted his weight and his ears drooped. Mr. Conner helped Heather to her feet. When they started walking, I noticed she wasn’t clutching her arm anymore.

  “I expect you and your horse to be on your best behavior for the rest of the week, Ms. Silver,” Mr. Conner called back over his shoulder.

  I exhaled. “Noises like that never scare you, Charm,” I whispered. “What happened?” Charm blinked and gave me his trademark sad puppy eyes. “We caused trouble in our first fifteen minutes, boy. Not a good start.” He lowered his head. “It’s all right. Let’s go find your stall.”

  Charm and I approached the stable entrance when a girl with curly hair asked, “New rider, right?”

  I nodded. “I’m Sasha and this is Charm.”

  “I’m Nicole Allen,” the girl said. She patted Charm’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” she whispered. “No one will remember this tomorrow.”

  “Do you know where I should take Charm?” I asked her, recognizing an ally.

  “I’ll show you,” Nicole said. Charm and I followed her into the stable.

  I tried not to compare Canterwood to Briar Creek once I was inside the stable’s main aisle—it felt disloyal. But this place was even nicer than the National Equestrian Club we had visited in Washington, D.C.! The aisles here were wide, the stalls were enormous, and no one was riding in jeans. I almost did a double take when I saw “Charm” on the gleaming gold nameplate on the stall door. The box stall, with light wooden boards, looked brand-new.

  “I’ve got to go practice,” Nicole said. “But I’ll see you later.”

  Charm sniffed his new
blue water bucket and lipped a few pieces of hay from the hay net. I fumbled in my pocket for my pink cell phone and pressed speed dial four.

  “Hello?” Kim said.

  “I haven’t even been here a full half hour,” I croaked into the phone. “And I’ve already humiliated myself.”

  “No,” Kim said, her voice soothing. “What happened?”

  “Charm got loose,” I said.

  “Oh, dear,” Kim said.

  “He spooked another horse and a girl fell.”

  Kim gasped. “Was she hurt?”

  “Yes. No! I don’t think so. She walked away on her own, but she was leaving for the infirmary.”

  “That doesn’t sound too serious,” Kim soothed. “It’s only the first day. By tomorrow, something else will happen and no one will remember that Charm got loose. Believe me.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, as Charm started to nose my boot. I couldn’t be mad at him when he looked so scared. He was new, too, and probably afraid of his new home. “Maybe I should have stayed at Briar Creek.”

  “Sasha, I loved having you here, but I taught you everything I could. We both know you want to grow as a rider.”

  “I know,” I said quietly.

  “I’m so proud of you, Sasha. And you can call me anytime you need to talk. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Thanks, Kim,” I added, and said good-bye.

  Charm nudged my back and I threw my arms around him. “It’s going to be okay,” I soothed. “We can do this.” I reached under his jaw and tickled his hairy chin the way he liked. Charm flapped his lower lip up and down. It made a suction sound when it hit the top of his mouth. I laughed. “Thanks, boy. You always make me feel better.”