Jasmine's First Horse Show (Pony Tails Book 13)

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Your ponytail looks great,” May said.

  Corey had short, straight black hair, which made a terrific ponytail. “Let me see yours,” Corey said.

  May raised her hat. Usually May’s hair was a tangled mess, but now it was neatly combed into a perfect ponytail.

  “Is that you?” Corey said.

  “I can’t disgrace the Dream Team,” May said. “I did the unthinkable. I asked Ellie to help me with my hair.” Ellie was one of May’s older sisters. She had few talents. But one of them was styling hair.

  They put their hats back on their heads and fastened the chin straps.

  “Too bad the Pony Tails don’t have a theme song,” May said. Her face lit up. “Hey, wait a minute. I feel a song coming on.” To the tune of “Ta Ra Ra Boom De Ay” she sang, “We are the Pony Tails, we carry water pails, we keep our heels low, over the jumps we go.”

  “It’s a hit,” said Corey. “Kind of.”

  A sad, droopy thing appeared around the corner of the barn. Corey took a look, and then another. It was Jasmine. She was wearing a velvety new hat, a spiffy new coat, and shiny black boots. But she looked miserable.

  “Are you sick?” Corey said.

  Jasmine shook her head.

  “Is Outlaw worse?” asked May.

  “It’s Sophie,” Jasmine said. “She looks awful. You should hear her cough. They’re taking her to the hospital—”

  “That’s terrible!” May said.

  “For tests,” said Jasmine.

  Corey let out a sigh of relief. “Dr. Santiago sends babies to the hospital for tests a lot. Babies are so tiny they need special equipment.” She knew this because Dr. Santiago and her mother were friends.

  “Really?” Jasmine said.

  “Truly,” Corey said.

  Jasmine let out a sigh of relief.

  “Okay,” May said. “Down to business. It’s time for the Dream Team to do a final check. Riders first.”

  The girls inspected each other’s boots and clothes. Everything looked fine.

  “Ponies next,” May said.

  The girls checked the ponies’ hooves and coats and tacks. Everything was okay.

  Over the loudspeaker came a voice: “Class number one. Showing and Sitting.” In this class a pony stood still while his rider sat on him. Then the rider got off and stood next to the pony while the judges inspected his tack.

  “Let’s go,” May said. She and Corey were participating in this class. May hugged Jasmine and went over to Macaroni’s head to whisper a few last words to him. She mounted and rode into the ring. Corey hugged Jasmine, mounted Sam, and followed.

  Jasmine leaned against the fence to watch them ride.

  Samurai wasn’t the world’s most patient pony. There was a possibility he would start switching his tail and stamping his hooves, demonstrating that he thought Showing and Sitting was dumb. The judges wouldn’t like that at all.

  “Be good,” Jasmine whispered to Samurai from the sidelines. “Be patient.”

  Samurai couldn’t hear her because the loudspeaker was blaring and the crowd was chattering, but it seemed as if he had. He stood with his head high, his eyes straight forward, and the white sword on his nose gleaming.

  Macaroni stood still. Too still. May was trying to be extra-calm, so she wasn’t bugging him at all. But Macaroni needed a little bugging. At the moment, he was so mellow that he looked as if he might go to sleep.

  The judges gave first prize to Samurai and third to Macaroni. Last prize went to a boy called Jeff. It was clearly Jeff’s first horse show. He looked as if he was about to faint from terror. Jasmine knew how he felt.

  Next came the Pleasure Class. The point of the class was to see how much a pony enjoyed being ridden. May leaned over to Macaroni and whispered, “Please, Mac, be a little nervous. Don’t mellow out on me.”

  The minute they started moving around the ring, Macaroni got into the spirit of things. He shook his yellow mane and lifted his feet high. May grinned with pleasure. This was Macaroni at his best. When he finished, the judges were looking at him with approval.

  Samurai, on the other hand, had trouble with transitions. He switched from a walk to a trot with a bump, and from a trot to a canter with a lurch. He didn’t do a terrible job, but he wasn’t great. May came in first. Second prize went to a pony called Silver ridden by a girl named Lois, who gave Corey a superior smirk. Samurai came in third.

  “Equitation,” said the voice over the loudspeaker.

  I’m not ready, Jasmine thought. She loved Macaroni, but she wasn’t used to riding him. Riding Outlaw, Jasmine hardly had to signal. Riding Macaroni would be an experiment.

  Poise, Jasmine thought. I must have poise. She felt like giggling and realized that this was part of being nervous.

  May climbed off Macaroni and handed Jasmine the reins. “He’s ready,” she said. “He’s looking forward to it.”

  Jasmine put her arms around Macaroni and said, “Thanks for letting me ride you. You’re one great pony.” He nuzzled her ear.

  But when she got on his back, Macaroni turned to look at her as if he were puzzled.

  “It’s equitation,” she said. “You love equitation.”

  Macaroni looked at May.

  “Jasmine is fantastic at equitation,” May said to him. “You’re going to love her.”

  Not! thought Jasmine.

  As they entered the ring, Macaroni looked back at May as if to ask her if she was sure.

  Corey and Samurai were right behind them. Corey gave Jasmine a thumbs-up sign.

  “Walk,” said the voice over the loudspeaker.

  Relax, Jasmine told herself, relax, relax.

  She could feel tension in her stomach. It began to spread to her fingers and toes. Beneath her Macaroni was walking easily. But there was something wrong with his walk. It wasn’t like Outlaw’s walk. For Jasmine it was like wearing someone else’s shoes.

  “Trot,” called the voice over the loudspeaker.

  Jasmine pressed her knees together slightly—Macaroni was such an experienced pony he didn’t need a big signal. Macaroni moved into a high-stepping trot. Jasmine knew it was a picture-book trot. Every element in it was perfect. But it was slower than Outlaw’s trot. Jasmine found herself rising too soon, anticipating Macaroni by a fraction of a second. This was very dangerous, she knew. When a rider gets out of rhythm, her posting can get worse and worse until she’s bouncing.

  Slow down, she told herself. But then she was too slow. Beneath her she could feel Macaroni speed up and then slow down, struggling to get in tune with her. But keeping rhythm was her job, not his. It was a big relief when the voice over the loudspeaker said, “Canter.”

  She touched him behind the girth with her heel, and Macaroni moved effortlessly into his smooth, rocking canter. Jasmine enjoyed the slow, graceful motion.

  That’s it, she thought. We’re almost done.

  She saw something familiar out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look. It was her father. He looked pale. His hair was rumpled. Jasmine was sure something terrible had happened to Sophie. Without realizing it, she snapped her knees tight.

  Macaroni thought it was a signal to gallop. He took off. Jasmine lurched forward. She lost her left stirrup and then her right. She slipped. She started to fall against Macaroni’s neck. She dodged left to miss it and felt her bottom slide in the saddle. She could see the veins in Macaroni’s neck. Dust rose into her eyes. She grabbed his mane and with a huge effort pulled herself upright as Macaroni galloped faster and faster.

  “Canter, please,” said the voice over the loudspeaker.

  Jasmine knew she and Macaroni were in danger of spooking the other ponies. But she couldn’t slow Macaroni because he was as freaked as she was.

  In the judges’ box she could see Max looking at her with worry.

  Something happened inside her brain. A small voice said, Poise.

  She felt like laughing. With Macaroni running and the announcer telling her to slow down,
how could she have poise?

  She saw Max again, and all at once she felt as if she could do it. She knew Max had faith in her.

  She looked down and realized that she was sawing at the reins, which only made Macaroni more frazzled. She loosened the reins and put a gentle hand on his withers. His stride shortened. Suddenly they were back in the easy rocking canter. Jasmine looked at Max, and his eyes were full of relief.

  “Line up for judging,” called the voice.

  At least it was over, Jasmine thought. Her shirttail was out, her coat had popped a button, and her riding hat was halfway down her forehead. As she lined up with the other riders, she tried to put herself in order. She tucked in her shirt and straightened her coat. She unsnapped her chin strap and lifted her hat to straighten it.

  Her ponytail bounced straight up. Jasmine could feel the hair stand on end. Everyone in the bleachers was staring at her. And then—worst of all—she looked at her father and saw that he was videotaping her.

  “Judges, your decisions, please,” said the voice over the loudspeaker.

  Corey came in first. Jasmine came in fifth out of five.

  7 The Pits of the Pits

  “You held on,” Mr. James said. “You got Macaroni back into a canter. You were great.”

  “If that’s great,” Jasmine said, “what’s terrible?”

  “You didn’t panic,” Mr. James said. “You kept your head.”

  “What head?” Jasmine said miserably. “By accident I gave Macaroni the signal to gallop. He was only following my dumb directions.”

  Mr. James put his arms around her. “It wasn’t as bad as you think.”

  “How’s Sophie?” Jasmine said, remembering that it was her father’s pale face that had spooked her in the first place.

  “She’s much better,” Mr. James said.

  “At least something good happened,” Jasmine said. “She’s not going to stay in the hospital, is she?”

  “She’s sleeping at home,” Mr. James said. “This afternoon I’m going to take care of her so your mom can come.”

  “Give Sophie a hug for me,” said Jasmine.

  “I’ll give her two,” her father said with a smile. “I’d better get home now. Good luck this afternoon.”

  As Mr. James left, May put her arm through Jasmine’s. “Lets go have lunch on the PTSP.” The horses and ponies had been stabled for the lunch break.

  “I’m not very hungry,” said Jasmine. She put her hand over her stomach. She didn’t feel hungry at all. In fact, she felt definitely unhungry.

  “I’ve got sandwiches,” May said. Before anyone could say anything, May added, “My mother made them, not me. They’re normal sandwiches.”

  “No banana-salami sandwiches?” asked Corey.

  May shook her head.

  “No pickles and date nut bread?” asked Corey.

  “Sorry, not today,” said May.

  “Rats,” said Corey with a grin. “Anyway, I’ve got special fruit shakes my mom made.” Doc Tock was famous for her fabulous fruit shakes.

  Jasmine realized that usually she would have brought some of her mother’s great homemade cookies. But this wasn’t a usual weekend. Her mother was at home with Sophie. And Jasmine was here, making a fool of herself.

  As they walked up the hill, Jasmine said, “Have you ever heard of serendipity?”

  “Is it a rock group?” asked May.

  “It’s a word for unexpected luck,” Jasmine said. “My dad says that serendipity is when luck just happens.” They climbed a few more steps. “What do you call the opposite of serendipity?”

  “You mean like when catastrophe just happens?” asked Corey with a giggle.

  “That’s it,” Jasmine said. “And that’s what happened to me today.”

  “The pits,” said May.

  “This is the pits,” Jasmine said. “The pits of the pits.”

  They got to the top of the hill and flopped down on the silvery grass that grew under the oak tree.

  “At least I’m finished for the day,” Jasmine said.

  May crossed her arms. “Excuse me?”

  “I can’t ride anymore,” Jasmine said.

  “Why not?” May said.

  “Because I’ve brought enough shame on the Dream Team for one day. I’m not going to bring more,” Jasmine said. “You’ll do better without me.”

  “Max says riders should never give up, no matter how terrible things get,” Corey said. “He says the worse things get, the harder you should try.”

  “Did you ever see an ice-skater fall down?” asked May. “Like splat. Like kaboom. In front of millions of people.”

  Jasmine nodded.

  “Or a gymnast fall off the bars,” Corey said. “You know what they do?”

  “They cry,” Jasmine said.

  “No,” May said. “They get up and go on and finish the routine. Then they cry.”

  “Those are stars,” Jasmine said. “I’m not exactly a star.”

  “You’re Jasmine the Great,” said May, “and don’t you forget it.”

  “Soon to be on the cover of Horrible Hair magazine,” said Jasmine, touching her ponytail.

  “I can fix that,” said Corey with a smile. She got up and went down to the stable and into Mrs. Reg’s office. In a few minutes she came back with a pair of scissors and two rubber bands.

  “I already went the rubber band route,” groaned Jasmine.

  “Wait and see,” said Corey. She cut the red rubber band out of Jasmine’s hair and then combed her hair gently until it was lying flat. She gathered the hair into a ponytail and put a rubber band around it. Somehow, Jasmine realized, when Corey did this, it didn’t hurt. Corey braided the ponytail and fastened the bottom with the other rubber band.

  Jasmine touched it. “It’s not wild and crazy.”

  “It’s neat and spiffy,” May said.

  Jasmine sighed. “Corey, you’re not only good at horse grooming, you’re good at people grooming,” she said.

  “Time for lunch,” said May, who was always hungry.

  There were peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches, and tuna salad and sprout sandwiches. These were two of Jasmine’s favorites. But she wasn’t hungry.

  Corey and May polished off their sandwiches and fruit shakes. When they were done, the girls lay on their backs watching the slow movement of the oak tree.

  “The Pony Tails are the greatest,” said Jasmine.

  “To think I lived all those years without being a Pony Tail,” Corey said. “It’s unbelievable.” Corey had moved to Pine Hollow not long before.

  From down the hill came the faint sound of the loudspeaker. “Riders assemble for the afternoon session.”

  May and Corey jumped up.

  Jasmine sat up slowly. “Here goes.”

  As they walked down the hill, Jasmine saw her family’s station wagon pull into the parking lot. Her mother got out, carrying the dreaded video camera.

  Maybe someone will steal it, Jasmine thought. But Pine Hollow was a pretty safe place. The chances that anyone would steal the camera were slim. She considered hiring someone to steal it but realized she had other things to do.

  The Grovers’ station wagon, with a horse trailer behind it, pulled into the parking lot. Out of the station wagon stepped not just May’s parents, but May’s sisters, Dottie and Ellie, as well. May’s sisters loved to tease. If Jasmine messed up this afternoon, as she surely would, she’d never hear the end of it.

  The first event of the afternoon was the Pony Hunter Class. This class was judged for style. It didn’t matter how fast riders rode around the course. It only mattered how well they did it. Corey and Samurai loved this event.

  Sam trotted out, his head high. Jasmine could tell from the look on Corey’s face that she wasn’t aware of the crowd or of the judges. It was just her and Sam. With a slow, easy gait, Sam cantered toward the first jump. He rose smoothly. He landed without a bump. Corey’s heels were down and her wrists were relaxed. From the happy
look on her face Jasmine could tell that everything was perfect. Sam sailed through the rest of the jumps.

  Then it was May and Macaroni’s turn. Macaroni looked at the jumps and snorted, as if to say “No big deal.”

  He cleared the first two jumps with ease. He jumped the hedge without harming a leaf. Macaroni was doing a great job.

  “Just one more, Mac,” May said, and started to lean forward. But then she realized that she was doing the exact thing she’d resolved not to do. She was anticipating the jump. She eased back and took a deep breath. Then she leaned forward.

  She was too late. Macaroni’s left hind hoof clipped the rail. The rail trembled and fell.

  First prize went to Sam and Corey, with a special commendation for elegance. May and Macaroni came in third.

  Then it was time for the Relay Race. May was captain of the Red Team. Originally, Corey was supposed to be on the Red Team, which would have made May’s job a lot easier because Corey was an experienced relay rider. Now, with Corey off the team, the fourth spot was filled by Jeff, the new rider who looked as if he was going to faint from fear. May gave the team a pep talk, saying that though they might be underdogs, they had guts, so they were bound to have glory.

  Lois, the snobby rider who had laughed at Corey in the Pleasure Class, said, “Jeff … glory. Somehow the two don’t go together.”

  Naturally, this made Jeff look even more nervous.

  “We’re a team,” May said. “All for one and one for all.” She gave Lois a stern look. “Have you got that?”

  The Relay Race was divided into three parts: the crop pass, the apple toss, and the egg and spoon race.

  May started the crop pass with a cowboy yell. She and Macaroni dashed down the ring to the spot where a red ribbon was tied to the white fence. She touched the crop to the ribbon. She rode back to the other end of the ring and held out the crop to Jeff.

  He looked as if he wished he were on Mars—anyplace but here. “Go, Jeff,” said May. Jeff reached for the crop. It wobbled in his hand. Was he going to drop it?

  He didn’t. He held it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He and his pony, Zoom, cantered briskly to the other end of the ring.

  “Zoom is zooming,” said May to Jasmine with a grin. “I knew that kid could do it.” By the time Jeff got back, the Red Team was only slightly behind the Blue Team.