Pony Jumpers 7- Seventh Place

by Kate Lattey

  “Brilliant. Way better than being here.” She rolled her eyes, lifting her hand to inspect her manicured fingernails. “I can’t believe we’re back for another year of torture.”

  Over her shoulder, I could see Esther staring pitifully at Callie’s back. Last year they’d been practically joined at the hip, and now Callie was treating her as though she didn’t exist. I wondered what had happened, and who had been at fault.

  Callie slid her chair closer to me and leaned over to look at my timetable.

  “Are you taking Econ again this year?”

  I shook my head. “No. I was trying to avoid her,” I explained, nodding towards Miss Rutherford, who was tapping away at her laptop and ignoring the class.

  Callie laughed. “Me too. I guess we both failed.”

  “I guess so.”

  The bell rang, drowning out whatever Callie said next. She pulled a face, looking personally affronted that she’d been interrupted, then swiped my timetable off my desk as she stood up and perused it.

  “We’re in the same English class for second period,” she declared, sounding pleased. “Thank God I’ll have someone to talk to.”

  I stood up as well as Esther walked out of the room with her head down. Callie didn’t even glance in her direction.

  By the end of the day, I’d sat with Callie in English and History, had eaten lunch with her and her friends, and spent our free study period in the library listening to her stories of skiing in Aspen over the New Year.

  “It was gorgeous. Have you been?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not much of a skier.”

  “You’re missing out,” Callie said confidently. “Although I wish we could’ve gone a week later. It sucked missing New Year’s Eve here. What’d you do for it?”

  “Um.” I tried to think of something cooler to say than sat at home watching movies with my mum. “Not much.”

  Callie raised a carefully plucked eyebrow. “You didn’t go out?”

  “No. I don’t go out much during the show season.” Or during the off season, but I didn’t say that out loud.

  A vague look of confusion flickered across Callie’s face for a moment, then it cleared again. “Oh yeah, you ride horses or something, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s cool. I took riding lessons when I was younger, but I didn’t really like it.” She smiled at me, and I smiled half-heartedly back. “Mum was really disappointed. She used to ride and was desperate to buy me my own pony. We tried one out, but I fell off it and lost interest after that.”

  I couldn’t think of what to say. “Right.” I switched my attention to the blank sheet of paper in front of me. “Could this assignment be any more vague?” I asked her. “Write a poem. How long does it have to be? Does it have to rhyme?”

  Callie shrugged. “Who cares? It’s not worth any credits. Just make something up. Write a few words backwards or something. Are you any good?”

  I frowned. “At writing poetry?”

  “Duh, no. At riding horses.”

  “Oh. Um, I’m okay.”

  I wondered if saying that I came seventh at Nationals would sound impressive to her uninformed ears, or whether it would sound as pathetic to her as it did to me. Dad had looked it up online as we’d travelled home on the ferry. He hadn’t said anything, just showed me the results on his phone, as if I’d needed reminding that I’d screwed up.

  The blank sheet of paper lay in front of me, mocking me. I wondered if I could write a poem about my ponies. I thought about Buck’s glossy dark coat, Skip’s whiskery nose, Forbes’ curved ears. But I couldn’t get any words to flow. I scratched my pen against the corner of the page in meaningless swirls, searching for inspiration.

  “Is this you?”

  “Huh?” I turned towards Callie, who was looking at a video on her phone. She tilted it towards me, and I saw footage of Buck flying over a jump in last year’s Pony of the Year class. She must have Googled my name, and found the clip on YouTube. “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Those jumps are big.”

  I nodded, relieved that she sounded impressed.

  “Did you win?”

  I shook my head. “Not quite. I came second.”

  “Bummer. That’s still good though.”

  Callie lost interest in Buck, turning her phone’s screen dark as my pony headed down to the treble in the middle of the ring. He disappeared, and I wondered how he was doing at home. I’d taken Lesley’s advice to keep him separated from the other two, but Buck hated being on his own. He’d whinnied to them all night from his isolation paddock, and they’d whinnied back from the barn until Dad had made me go out and move the other two into a nearby paddock overnight so they could at least see one another. That had quieted Buck for now, but there wasn’t much grass in any of the paddocks, so we’d had to supplement them all with hay. Fortunately we’d had our hay delivered just before Nationals, but Dad wasn’t happy about having to feed out over summer.

  “So you know how it’s Valentine’s Day this weekend?” It was Callie’s turn to change the subject, and I looked back over at her.

  “Is it?”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Duh. Obviously. I’m going make Mum let me have a party, to make up for not being able to have people over at New Year’s. What d’you think?”

  “Sure. Sounds good,” I responded vaguely.

  “You’ll come, right?”

  “Uh, sure,” I said. “Wait, this weekend?” She nodded, and I shook my head reluctantly. “I can’t. I’ve got Taihape.”

  “Taihape?” she repeated, making it sound like a dirty word. “What’s in Taihape, other than gumboots?”

  “Show jumping.”

  “Oh.” She pursed her lips and knotted her eyebrows together. “You really are into this horse thing, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” For the first time in my life, I was wondering what it would be like if I wasn’t. What if I could ride and have a social life? I still wasn’t convinced that I wanted to go to Callie’s party, but it was nice to have the option.

  “Well, that’s too bad. I was looking forward to getting you all dolled up for it.” She tilted her head and looked at me critically. “You really should wear more makeup. You’re really pretty, you know.”

  You’re so pretty. I made myself smile, knowing she meant it as a compliment. “Thanks.”

  “I mean it,” she said, tucking her hair behind one ear. A diamond stud glittered in her earlobe. “You’re wasting your God given talents. You know what they say – if you’ve got it, flaunt it!” Callie turned to me with a sultry expression and fluttered her eyelashes, then pouted again. “Why did we have to get stuck at a stupid all girls’ school?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ~ MOVE YOUR FEET ~

  The sun was lowering over the Taihape show grounds as I stepped out of our truck on Saturday evening. My jandals crunched on the dry grass, and the sprinklers that were hissing water across the jumping rings were barely making a difference to the rock hard ground.

  Dad straightened up from his crouch by the truck’s water tank and looked at me. “Where are you off to?”

  “Katy’s truck. I’m having dinner with them. I told you.”

  “Oh, right.”

  I felt bad about leaving him alone, but Katy had already told me that her mum was spending the evening with her friends, so there was no place for him. If he tried a little harder to make friends of his own, maybe he wouldn’t be in this position. I pushed away that uncharitable thought and gave him a quick wave as I started to walk away.

  “Are the ponies fed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you wrap Skip’s legs?”

  I stopped and looked back at him. “Yes. And Forbes’ as well, and they’ve got hay, and water, and I’ve skipped out. Anything else?”

  “Did you clean your tack?” He was really grasping at straws now.

  “I’ll do it in the morning,” I assured him.

  “Don’t be too late. Forbe
s is on first thing.”

  “I know. I won’t,” I called back as I started walking again. “Besides, Katy’s in the same class and she’s first to go. It’s not going to be a late night.”

  I walked down the line of trucks, enjoying the warm evening air on my bare arms and legs. It had been a hot day, but my ponies had jumped well. Skip had won the metre-twenty speed, and Forbes had jumped double clear in the metre ten that afternoon, making up for his misbehaviour at Nationals. I saw Katy’s truck up ahead, and heard AJ’s loud laughter emanating from it. The ramp was down, and Katy stepped down onto it with an armful of feed buckets. Her dark hair was falling out of its ponytail, and she had a dirty streak down her bare leg.

  “Need any help?” I offered, eyeing up the buckets in her arms.

  “Oh hey,” she greeted me. “No I’m good, these are for the morning. Just trying to be prepared.”

  “For once in your life,” AJ teased her, appearing at the back of the truck. She had her arm in a sling, reminding me of the injury that she’d sustained in a car accident on New Year’s Eve. It had been a rough start to the year for her too, but she was beaming down at me as though she didn’t have a care in the world. “How are you always so clean?” she asked me, her blue eyes scanning me from top to toe.

  I blushed, shrugging. “I had a shower.”

  “Ah, that’d explain it. Did you hear that, Katy?”

  “I heard.”

  “Just a little friendly suggestion from the person who has to sleep next to you tonight,” AJ said casually as Katy jumped off the ramp and opened one of the side hatches with one hand, doing her best to wedge the buckets in. I went to help her.

  “Thanks.” Katy shoved a pile of covers that had been crammed into the small space to the side, then pushed the buckets into the gap, where they tilted precariously back towards her. “I think they’ll stay there,” she said optimistically.

  I shot her a dubious look. “I don’t.”

  “Aren’t you Susie Sunshine today?” she asked. “Don’t be such a pessimist.”

  “It’s not pessimism, it’s physics,” I replied. “This little thing called gravity.”

  “Pfft.” Katy rolled her eyes at me. “We’ve just gotta be quick. Shut the hatch on three. Ready? One, two, three!”

  She let go of the buckets and stepped back before I could tell her that it was a really stupid idea, because even if I could get the hatch closed in time to keep the feed buckets wedged into the gap, they would all fall out the moment anyone opened it again. Katy didn’t appear to have thought of that, but since I failed to shut the hatch on three, the buckets tumbled out as soon as she let go of them - just as I’d known they would - and scattered their contents across the dry grass.

  AJ roared with laughter as Katy stared at me indignantly.

  “You didn’t shut it!”

  “I told you it wasn’t going to work.”

  “It would’ve worked if you’d just shut it when I told you to.”

  “Now, now, girls. No catfights in the public arena.”

  The smile disappeared off my face at the sound of his voice, but Katy spun on her heel to greet Connor cheerfully.

  “Not my fault if Susannah can’t follow a simple instruction,” she told him.

  Connor looked at me, catching my eye for a brief moment before I looked away. I saw the smirk on his face as he stood silhouetted against the fading daylight.

  “She’s not too good at following instructions,” he said smugly.

  Why hadn’t I taken karate lessons, or judo or something? I wanted nothing more than to wipe that look off his face, but I was powerless. Struck motionless, holding up Katy’s truck hatch as she chatted with Connor, unable to move. I could feel his eyes on me, and it was making my skin crawl.

  Fight or flight.

  I couldn’t fight him, and I couldn’t leave.

  Yes you can.

  I took a deep breath, then another one.

  Move your feet.

  I let go of the hatch and it slammed shut, making everyone jump. They all looked at me, but I just turned and walked down towards the open side door, then climbed the steps into the truck accommodation. It wasn’t very far, but at least I didn’t have to look at Connor any more. I sat down on the sofa and put my head in my hands, trying to settle my nerves. Hating that I’d run away. Unable to face going back out there until I knew he was gone.

  “Are you okay?” It was AJ, standing in the doorway and looking at me with concern in her eyes.

  I pushed my hair back, relieved that I wasn’t actually crying. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

  “You sure?”

  I nodded. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

  I didn’t want to talk about it. If I told her – if I told anyone – it made it real. Then she’d know, and she’d pity me. And even if I could persuade her not to tell anyone, Connor would know that she knew. I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that he’d got to me. I just wanted to be able to walk away from it all and forget it ever happened.

  “Are you going to help me pick these feeds up?” Katy stuck her head around the side door and looked at me. “Since you’re the reason I dropped them?”

  “Gravity is the reason you dropped them,” AJ reminded her on my behalf. “Pick them up yourself, you’ve got two arms.”

  Katy rolled her eyes, but I stood up. “Sorry. I’ll help you.”

  “On three this time,” she reminded me as I climbed back down the steps.

  “Or you could pull those rugs out of the hatch and fold them so the buckets will actually fit,” I suggested, reflexively glancing over at the spot where Connor had been standing moments earlier. He’d gone, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.

  Katy and I were scraping feeds off the ground when another male voice interrupted us. “You know, you could just mix the feeds in the buckets.”

  “Way too mainstream,” Katy said, rocking back onto her heels and squinting up at Jonty, who was grinning down at us. Tess was by his side as usual, the two of them joined by an invisible thread that seemed to be getting shorter and stronger as time went on.

  Tess shot me a hesitant smile, and I smiled back. We weren’t exactly friends, mostly because her sister Hayley was a prime bitch who delighted in making my life a misery. But Hayley hadn’t been around much lately, and while it was widely rumoured that she was currently afflicted by some health problems, nobody really knew much more than that.

  Or so I thought.

  “Hey guys,” AJ greeted them both, pushing herself upright from where she’d been slouched against the side of the truck. “How’s it going?”

  “Not bad,” Jonty said, but Tess pulled a face and said “Crap” at the same time.

  “Look, AJ!” Katy exclaimed. “They’re having a difference of opinion! Quick, someone take a photo before the moment’s lost.”

  Tess blushed, but Jonty just grinned at Katy and retaliated by putting a foot under the feed bucket in her hands and flipping it upside down, spilling the contents back onto the scorched dirt.

  “Hey! Uncalled for!”

  “Totally called for,” Jonty contradicted her. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all?”

  “Nobody told my mother that,” Tess grumbled, picking her way past Katy’s pile of spilled feed on her way towards AJ. “She’s been a total nightmare today.”

  AJ looked sympathetic. “I heard.”

  Tess huffed out a breath. “I think everyone heard.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Tess had taken three rails in the metre twenty that morning, and her mother had given her an earful about it all the way from the gate back to their truck, and then for another several minutes after that until Jonty had intervened and separated them. I couldn’t really blame her for sticking to him like glue, since he seemed to be the only one who had her back against her mother, whose increasingly frequent tirades against her daughter were making my dad lo
ok like Father of the Year.

  “How’s Hayley?” AJ asked quietly as I scooped up another handful of feed and dumped it into the blue bucket at my side. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but although Tess spoke softly, she was standing close enough to me that her voice was clearly audible.

  “She’s okay. Last round of radiation coming up, then it’s a wait and see to find out if it’s worked, or whether they’ll have to try and operate. They’re hoping they won’t, because brain surgery’s always risky, but we won’t know anything for a while yet.”

  I stared at the flakes of cracked maize scattered amongst the short grass at my feet, my head whirling. I’d known something was up with Hayley, because she’d had a seizure at a show a few weeks ago and then disappeared off the circuit, but I hadn’t had any idea that it was that serious.

  AJ didn’t react the way I had, because obviously she knew – had probably known all along. I glanced up at Katy, who was chatting with Jonty as he helped her scoop up the feed he’d spilled. He knew, of course, and I could almost guarantee that what AJ knew, Katy knew too. I felt so out of the loop, and wondered why nobody had told me.

  You didn’t ask.

  I had to face the fact that while I was friendly with Katy and AJ, their tolerance for me didn’t necessarily extend to their other friends. Jonty was nice to everyone, but Tess was still standoffish, and I got a strong sense that she didn’t trust me.

  “Fingers crossed, eh?”

  I heard Tess sigh. “Yeah, here’s hoping. Hayley’s convinced that it’s working and she’ll be riding again in no time.”

  “That’s good,” AJ replied. “Power of positive thinking and all.”

  “Well, you know Hayley,” Tess said. “She doesn’t really take defeat too well.”

  “She’s a fighter,” AJ agreed as I picked out the last few pellets from the grass at my feet.

  “I think you got it all,” Katy said, stopping in front of me and casting a long shadow across the space between us.

  I straightened up, feeling my left knee click the way it always had since my pony had rammed it into a jump stand when I was nine. I looked at AJ’s arm in its sling, at the scar on Jonty’s hand, the graze on Katy’s elbow and the scattered pimples on Tess’s cheek, and wondered if anyone made it through life unscathed.