We all smiled back.
“We’re going to warm up with a pairs theater game,” Ms. Scott said. “Then, we’ll get together and go over the homework and assigned reading.”
Ms. Scott started naming the groups. “Sasha and Heather,” she said, finally. “You’re together.”
I breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Heather was waaay better than Jacob.
Ms. Scott finished pairing us up then consulted her list. “Today’s theater game is called ‘park bench.’ The rules are simple—one at a time, you’re going to sit on the prop bench and pretend you’re in a park. I’m going to give your partner a card that says who you—the person sitting on the park bench—are. The card will also tell your partner what role to play. Then, your partner is going to walk over, sit next to you, and react to seeing you. You have to give the audience enough so that we all can guess who you both are.”
“Can we have an example?” a girl asked.
Ms. Scott nodded. “Sure. So, pretend you’re sitting on the bench. My cue card says you’re a high school basketball player and I’m a recruiter for a college basketball team. So, I’ll go up to you and act like a recruiter. I’ll start telling you about the awesome program at our school and how you can’t turn down my offer. You go along with it and hopefully you realize quickly who you are. Just don’t come out and say who the person is. Keep it subtle and develop your characters.”
That sounded easy enough.
“And you’ve got a minute to do this,” Ms. Scott said.
Or maybe not …
She motioned for the first pair to step forward, gave a cue card to a girl, and the game started. A guy sat on the bench and the girl walked up to him.
“So, do you do all of your work in a coffee shop, like most people think you would, or do you work from your home?” the girl asked.
“It depends on how I’m feeling on that day,” the guy said slowly. He had no idea who he was yet. “Sometimes, I just like to stay in and work.”
“Do your fingers ever get sore from typing so much?” the girl asked. “Mine would. And how do you come up with your ideas?”
“So you and Jacob have decided not to even acknowledge each other’s existence for an entire year?” Heather whispered to me. “I’m sure that will work out well.”
I whispered back. “Why do you care?”
Heather laughed. “I don’t, believe me. But we’re on the YENT. And I don’t want us to ever look bad against Jasmine. I’ve said it a zillion times and I mean it.”
“Waaait a sec,” I said. “You keep flip-flopping. You just called me out yesterday for practicing too much. You told me to take it easy. And now you’re worried that my personal life is a distraction and that it’s going to mess up the team?”
Heather frowned. I’d actually won that argument. That never happened. Ev-er. Heather didn’t know what to do about it.
“Oh, whatever. Forget it,” Heather said. “But if you think you’re gonna lose it—don’t do it in the arena. Go cry in Charm’s stall or something.” Heather sighed and rolled her eyes. “Or talk to me if I have time, which I probably won’t.”
Our eyes met for a second. That was the biggest gesture of friendship Heather had ever made toward me. We still weren’t friends, but we weren’t exactly hating each other at this exact moment.
“Still. There’s nothing to talk about,” I said. “It’s over. Jacob’s with Callie. I’m completely focused on riding again, and that’s how it’s supposed to be.”
Heather shot me a look and started to say something, but Ms. Scott walked over. “Heather and Sasha, your turn.”
Oops. I’d completely missed all of the exercises before ours.
Ms. Scott handed me a folded card and motioned for Heather to sit on the bench. “Read the cue and start whenever you’re ready,” Ms. Scott said.
Heather walked over and sat on the bench while I opened the card.
Fan and movie star was written on the card.
I could do this—I’d seen enough episodes of Inside Hollywood where fans went crazy when they ran into stars on the street or in a coffee shop.
I stuck the card in my pocket and made my step bouncy as I walked over to Heather.
“Omigod, are you really her?” My voice was high and giggly.
“No,” Heather said. “I get mistaken for Jordan all of the time.”
“You’re, like, lying,” I said, sitting superclose to Heather on the bench. “You’re totally her. You had that giant zit on your chin in a pic I saw in Us Weekly yesterday and it’s still there.”
Heather’s gaze was frosty—no acting there. “It’s makeup left over from a shoot. The makeup artist created that zit.”
I bit my cheek so I didn’t grin. Coming to class just for that moment was so worth it.
“Time,” Ms. Scott said. “Class? Who are they?”
A girl in the second row raised her hand. “Sasha’s a fan girl and Heather’s an actress.”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Good job, girls,” Ms. Scott said. “Please take your seats. The next pair can come on up.”
And for the next half hour, I watched the rest of the pairs act out whatever was on their cue card. Everyone did a great job and someone in the class was always able to tell who the actors were portraying. It was a fun game for everyone and I liked it more with each pair that I watched.
“Thanks, everyone,” Ms. Scott said. “I’ll see you next class. Read the assigned chapters and keep practicing the memorization techniques we’ve worked on. Please put your homework on my desk before you go.”
It was my goal to be the first one out of there. I grabbed my backpack and Heather was beside me, creating a one-girl barrier between Jacob and me. Jacob was getting his stuff ready to go too, but I didn’t look at him as I shoved my books into my backpack.
At least I had a real reason to hurry. Today, my YENT lesson was next. That was the cool thing about theater—the elective was held at different times during the week. I was especially glad to go from theater—a class I had to share with Jacob—to riding. Plus, at this time of the day, Callie and Eric wouldn’t be at the stable.
I put my paper on Ms. Scott’s desk—it was a definite A. It was a page longer than required and I’d even asked if there was something I could do for extra credit. My grade in the class was already an A, but I wanted to keep it up as high as I could.
Heather put her paper on top of mine and together, we walked out of the auditorium and toward the stable. Heather looked at me and sighed. “You’re not going to be weird for the entire lesson, right?”
“Nope,” I said. “I swear—I’m fine. You’ll see in the arena. I’m over last weekend.”
Except for losing Callie, I wanted to add. And Eric. And Jacob.
As we walked, people stared after us. It had to be the last thing anyone expected to see—Heather and me walking together. Everyone had probably thought sitting at their table once for lunch would be the end of it and we’d go back to fighting like we always had. Even I thought it would be that way. Apparently, I was wrong.
Heather and I slipped into stalls in the newly renovated bathroom and changed into our riding clothes. The once-tiny bathroom now had three separate stalls, a wider mirror, two sinks, and way more counter space.
We got our horses’ tack and split up in the aisle. Heather went to Aristocrat’s stall and I went to get Charm. I gathered his lead line in one hand and opened the stall door. Charm whirled around, ears flicking back and forth anxiously.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. I always said hi to Charm before I went in his stall. I rubbed his neck, then snapped the lead line to the ring on his halter. He stood still while I clipped him into crossties and picked his hooves. Charm leaned into me as I brushed his shoulder. I ignored him and kept grooming him. I switched to the dandy brush and flicked dirt from his legs. Charm, turning his head as much the crossties allowed, tried to nudge my arm.
“What?” I asked, then realized my tone was sharper
than I’d intended.
Charm blinked at me.“Oh, boy, I’m sorry,” I said. I let the brush fall into his grooming box and hugged him. “It’s not you. It’s … everyone else. You’re always on my side and I was mean to you. I need to remember that I’m not alone in the arena when I’ve got you.”
Charm nodded and rubbed his cheek against my upper arm.
“We’re going to get it back, Charm. We’ll be awesome—like we were before I got all mixed up with Jacob. And Eric. And then Jacob and Eric.” I sighed, pausing to think for a second. “I don’t think I ever completely lost focus on riding. I just … got so caught up in drama. I’m sick of it—seriously. Done. Over it.”
And I was. I’d panicked for what felt like years to try and keep Callie and Jacob together after his confession that he still liked me. But it hadn’t mattered. Everything had shattered around me. I couldn’t take another week of crazy-intense drama.
I finished grooming Charm and tacked him up. He lowered his head, making it easy for me to bridle him, and I slid the reins over his neck. I put on my helmet and walked him to the indoor arena. Heather and Jasmine were inside, both girls just mounting their horses and starting their warm-ups.
I stopped for a second—saddened by the first thought that popped into my brain: Callie wasn’t in my class—and I was glad.
When I’d first started YENT lessons without her, I’d been devastated. She was on the advanced team and I was on the YENT and I’d felt alone without one friend in the arena. We both hated not being able to ride together every day. But now, I was glad. If Callie and I had to practice together every day it would be beyond uncomfortable. Practices weren’t going to be about boys or best friends—they were going to be about riding. And I was going to make up for my ridiculous last couple of lessons by wowing Mr. Conner from now on.
I mounted Charm and guided him to the wall. He settled behind Phoenix, Jasmine’s gray gelding. Ahead of us, Heather and her darker chestnut, Aristocrat, trotted forward at an even pace. Aristocrat was a top-notch horse, but Heather also knew how to bring out the best in him. Heather’s black boots gleamed, her fawn-colored breeches were spotless and, like always, her white polo shirt was horse hair free. It was still a mystery to me how she managed that.
I let Charm walk for a couple of strides before easing him into a trot. His movements were smooth and he followed behind Phoenix, but didn’t tailgate. We made several laps around the arena, every one of us focused on her horse. Jasmine’s gaze, intense as always, was narrowed between Phoenix’s ears. She kept a tight grip on the reins and didn’t give him any room to move freely.
Mr. Conner walked inside and stopped in the arena’s
center. He had a thick notebook in one hand and a Canterwood Crest travel mug in the other. Steam rose from the top and he took a sip.
“Hi, girls,” Mr. Conner said. “Before we get started, I want to let you know that next week I will be taping a lesson to share with Mr. Nicholson.”
Mr. Nicholson was the YENT’s head scout—he’d chosen all of us for the team.
“It will be a regular class and there’s no reason to think you need to schedule extra practice sessions or to worry,” Mr. Conner continued. “You’re all doing fantastic and I’m sure Mr. Nicholson will agree.”
But my brain was barely able to process the last sentence. Jasmine and Heather were doing fantastic—Charm and I weren’t! We needed to work harder before Mr. Conner filmed the lesson. Otherwise I’d look ridiculous next to my teammates. I’d have to make room in my schedule to ride more. I started making a mental list of things I could cut out of my schedule.
“I don’t want the camera to throw off anyone during the taping, so I’m going to start bringing it to classes,” Mr. Conner said. “I’ll set it up but leave it off so that you and your horses get used to seeing it.”
We all nodded.
“Let’s get started, then,” Mr. Conner said. “I want to work on flying lead changes today. You were all asked to perform them during your test for the advanced team, but we haven’t practiced them for quite a while.”
My stomach dropped. Charm and I could do flying lead changes—most of the time. But it had been forever since we’d done them.
“Flying lead changes are a natural movement for horses,” Mr. Conner said. “But sometimes, a horse gets lazy and forgets how to pay attention to signals for a flying lead change.”
Jasmine covered a yawn as if this conversation bored her.
“We’re going to work the horses at a canter for a couple of minutes to be sure they’re fully warmed-up and then you’ll each take turns doing the exercise,” Mr. Conner said. “Go ahead to the wall and start cantering.”
We each moved our horses to the wall and Charm went quickly from a trot into an even canter. I moved with him and didn’t bounce in the saddle—Charm’s canter was too smooth for that. As we finished the warm-up, I contemplated how many more hours of riding I could squeeze into this week. I’d keep adding things to the list of activities that I could cut out. I’d see less of Paige, but she’d understand that I’d want to practice harder for the tape.
“Okay, slow to a walk, then line up your horses over there,” Mr. Conner said, pointing to the far side of the arena. Jas, Heather, and I moved the horses to the arena’s side and waited for Mr. Conner’s instructions.
“Jasmine, you’re going to go first,” Mr. Conner said, uncapping his pen and holding it over his paper, ready to take notes on her performance. “Do you need a reminder about how to ask for a flying lead change? Or are you comfortable without instructions?”
I looked over at Jas—she held back a smirk. “I’ve got it, Mr. Conner,” she said.
No surprises there.
He waved his hand at her. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Jas leaned down to adjust her left stirrup, then righted herself in the saddle. She sat straight, without being rigid, and her hands were soft on the reins. She asked Phoenix for a canter and the gray gelding responded immediately. They swept past Heather and me for two laps before Jas turned Phoenix toward the center of the arena. When she and Phoenix reached the center of the arena, I didn’t even see Jasmine ask for the flying lead change—it just happened. Phoenix swished his tail and struck out with his opposite foreleg, then leading with that leg. Jas cantered him back to us, grinning. There was nothing Mr. Conner could say about that. It was perfect.
“Beautiful, Jasmine,” Mr. Conner said. “Your cues were subtle. Phoenix knew exactly what you wanted.”
Beside me, Heather groaned under her breath. “What. Ever,” she whispered. “We can do better.”
I gulped. She probably could. But I wasn’t so sure if I could. Sometimes, Charm ignored my cues. Stop it, I told myself. I was freaking myself out before I even started. And I didn’t want Charm to feel any tension from me.
“Go ahead, Heather,” Mr. Conner said. Jas angled Phoenix next to me and we watched Aristocrat and Heather mimic what Jas and Phoenix had just completed. Like Jas, Heather’s signals were invisible. Aristocrat’s flying lead change made him look as if he belonged at a junior class in the Hampton Classic. His movements were gorgeous.
Heather circled him for another half lap before slowing him and riding back over to Jas and me.
“Wonderful, Heather,” Mr. Conner said. “Your hands were perfect. That was exactly the way to ask for a flying change.”
There was no way Charm and I could do as well as Jas and Heather—it was a fact—but we could try.
Mr. Conner marked something on his paper, then turned to me. “Ready, Sasha?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
Charm seemed to know I needed encouragement—he walked forward before I could think about what we were about to do. I let him trot and posted as he moved away from Phoenix and Aristocrat. I squeezed my legs against his sides and urged him into a canter. We circled the arena twice and then I pointed him to the center.
Relax, I told myself. In four strides, I’d ask Charm for the change
. I only had seconds before it was time. I switched my leg positions, moving my opposite leg behind the girth, and kept my hands light. Charm stretched through his back and for a second, I wasn’t sure he was going to do it. But I felt him shift and he switched lead legs.
Score! We’d done it! I hid my smile and patted his neck when we reached the other side of the arena. “Nice job, boy,” I said.
“Sasha, good work,” Mr. Conner said, smiling at me. “Charm hesitated for a second as if he wasn’t going to follow through, but he listened to your cues.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Let’s keep up the flatwork practice,” Mr. Conner said. “Reverse directions and start trotting, please.”
Charm and I were focused and sharp. I kept all of my attention on him, making sure he listened every second. I kept pressure on him with my hands and legs.
“Sasha, ease up a little,” Mr. Conner called. “You can give Charm space—he’s been attentive the entire class.”
I nodded and relaxed my grip on the reins, letting Charm lower his head a fraction. He snorted and dipped his head down.
“Let’s work on flexibility,” Mr. Conner said. “I’m going to set up a few poles at the end of the arena and you’ll canter through those. While I set them up, please trot your horses and keep them warmed-up.”
Mr. Conner set up four white poles with weighted bases. He nodded to Jasmine. “You may go first. When you reach the last pole, turn Phoenix around and do the exercise in reverse.”
Jasmine pushed down her heels. “Okay.”
She cantered Phoenix to the end of the aisle, bypassing the poles and then slowing him to a trot before halting him in front of the first one.
She waited for a second before heeling him forward. He accelerated into a smooth canter and his gray mane whipped from side to side as he moved through the poles. Jas bent with him, moving easily from side to side in the saddle. She turned him sharply at the final pole and his hooves kicked up arena dirt as they curved around the pole and started the exercise again. Jasmine weaved him through the final pole, then let him into a wide half circle to start back to us.
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