All of a sudden, the world was moving again. All I wanted was stillness.
Two paramedics—or maybe three?—placed a brace around my neck and loaded me carefully onto a stretcher.
What people would remember most was the way I protested. This was unnecessary, I insisted. The last thing I wanted was to go to the hospital where strangers could keep staring. I really just wanted to curl up under every blanket on my bed and sleep away what had happened.
Maybe if I slept, I remembered reasoning, the fear would disappear.
But I didn’t go home. Instead, I spent a night in the hospital. “For observation.” The doctors were worried about possible head trauma. I was released the next day with clearance to ride again as soon as my body felt ready.
I barely spoke the next week. Whenever Mom and Dad brought up riding, I made up excuse after excuse.
Too much homework.
I was still sore.
Skyblue probably needed more of a break.
But it wasn’t Skyblue—it was me.
The accident had shaken me to my bones. My invincibility was gone. But every night in the Brooklyn apartment, the accident replayed over and over in my head—Skyblue balking and my flying like a rag doll over his head, crashing hard to the ground.
I wasn’t scared to ride, but jumping was a different story. It didn’t sound like something I wanted to do for a long time. Cross-country and stadium jumping, though, were part of three-day eventing. And if I wanted to be part of the team, I knew I’d have to do all three. Dressage alone wasn’t an option.
I knew I’d have to make a decision.
MY BOYFRIEND THE LIAR
I YANKED MYSELF OUT OF MY MEMORY-slash-daydream and looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes before Taylor’s dad was supposed to arrive to pick me up.
I hopped off my bed and dashed into the bathroom. I hovered close enough to the mirror to fog it with my breath. I examined my pale skin for any imperfections that may have popped up since I’d last checked the mirror.
Lucky for my date, nothing but pale skin and a faint spray of half a dozen freckles on each cheek.
I pulled out my black crushed-velvet vanity chair with a cushy seat and sat in front of my makeup counter. I turned on the makeup lights, unfurling my three-way mirror. It had three different settings—daytime, school (fluorescent lights), and night.
I set it on night and grabbed my CoverGirl foundation—the lightest shade they made, called “porcelain.” My makeup was a soft, feminine mix of designer and drugstore brands. Becca teased me for it, but I did my makeup the same exact way every time. First, I laid it all out in order of application. I smoothed an ultra-thin layer of foundation on my forehead, cheeks, and chin, followed by concealer dabbed under my eyes.
Next, I picked up my wide snow-white Clinique brush and ran it over my shimmery peach Nars blush and dusted a hint of color over my cheekbones, nose, and chin. I lined my eyes—a superfine line—with MAC’s Smolder.
In the glass jar hand-painted with pretty swirls, I picked out my expert MAC eye shadow brush. I dabbed it in light-colored shimmer eye shadow and used the brush to dust it across my lids. A darker shade of brown closer to my lash line defined my eyes. For eyelashes, I used a trick I’d read in a fashion magazine: I blasted my eyelash curler with warm air from my hairdryer for a few seconds. Then, I clamped the curler on my lashes. The heat from the hairdryer would help hold the curl longer. After a coat of waterproof Maybelline brown-black mascara, my eyes were done.
Finally, I dusted loose powder across my T-zone and applied a coat of Sephora’s Forever Pink gloss. I inspected the tube—three-fourths of the way gone—and made a note on my light blue Kate Spade mini-notepad to pick up a new one ASAP. It was one of my staples: a barely there pink with lots of light-catching flecks of shimmer. In other words, la glose parfait (aka perfect gloss) for my Friday night movie date with Tay.
Next stop: hair. I stood in front of the antique floor-length mirror in the corner of my room. The girl inside the chipped ivory frame needed straight hair tonight. I wanted zero waves, not even beauty curl. I plugged in my ceramic flatiron, which took only seconds to heat. I sprayed my hair with a dewy mist of Bumble and bumble Prep to protect it from heat damage, then clipped it up into sections. Twenty minutes later, my hair was down and straight, without being too straight.
It looked shiny and smooth. By now, I’d perfected the art of a good flat iron. The secret was to lift straight up rather than pull down. I’d finally learned the right way in Union. It gave my hair natural body without being poofy. Pulling straight down made hair look limp and lifeless. It was one of the EBTs (essential beauty tricks) that Ana, Brielle, and I swapped on a regular basis. I rubbed my fingers through my smoother, straight hair, spreading a lightly perfumed shine serum throughout.
In record time, I dressed and now it was time to accessorize. I grabbed a long silver delicate chain that held an oversized locket. I grabbed another necklace to layer with it. The locket was an antique-looking heart and the other was chunkier and made up of dozens of shiny, black hematite stones, with smaller, matte balls in between each stone. I knotted the hematite necklace with the locket so the layers were at the right spot and they fell perfectly into place.
I redid one last check of hair-slash-makeup, grabbed my distressed silver purse, then calmly headed to the front door. I was right on time and ready to bask in the fluttery feeling I got before every date with Taylor. A movie and dinner sounded perfect and was exactly the type of thing I was in the mood for.
Tonight any thoughts about getting into Canterwood (or not), studying for classes, competitive riding, and dressage technique would all have to be put on pause.
My phone blinked and it was a mention of my name on Chatter by “TFrost,” Tay.
Happy 2 be going out w @LaurBell! 6:55 p.m.
I typed a quick reply. @TFrost See you soon! ♥ 6:56 p.m.
“Mom!” I called. “Taylor’s dad will be here in two seconds.”
Mom appeared around the corner. She eyed my outfit, doing her Mom-slash-lawyer daughter-scan for anything inappropriate. Her smile told me that whatever test she’d just given me, I’d passed. I blew her a kiss and headed for the door.
“Remember to check in with us throughout the night, especially if your plans change,” Mom said. “Be home by curfew.”
“I will. We’re just going to see a movie and grabbing food after. I’ll text you after the movie.”
Even though I’d never been grounded in my life, my mom was still a lawyer and it made her feel better to have set family rules like my nine-thirty curfew. I’d never broken her rules the way Charlotte had, but I didn’t mind them if it made her feel better about things like movie dates and slumber parties with the besties.
Mom nodded. “Sounds good. Lauren?”
I turned to face her.
“Have fun,” she said.
I smiled, waved good-bye, and walked onto the front porch. I was just about to sit on the porch swing when Taylor’s parents’ Suburban pulled into our driveway.
I slid my keyboard-locked BlackBerry into my purse and walked down the sidewalk to their SUV. I tried my best not to rush—I didn’t want to seem overeager and held my back straight.
I hoped that the car’s headlights caught some of the shimmer I’d carefully applied. I wanted to impress Taylor tonight, of course, but even more than that, I wanted to feel pretty.
I didn’t usually obsess over my looks, but felt okay to be a stylish girl that anyone would be proud to go out with tonight. And, for some reason, I felt pretty. Not like a competitive equestrian on the verge of finding out life-changing news, or an organized honors student who kept a neat closet and turned her homework in early. Just a pretty, carefree girl, out with her boyfriend on a Friday night.
“Hi, Mr. Frost,” I said, climbing into the backseat of the SUV. Taylor was already seated in the back. His smile widened and he placed a hand briefly over mine.
“You look great,” he said
low, so only I could hear. I beamed at him, suddenly feeling even prettier and mounted a bashful smile.
“Hello, Lauren,” Mr. Frost said. The guy didn’t know how to not be formal. Even on a Friday night he wore a suit and tie. It was like he was on his way to a fancy dinner rather than dropping us off at the movies. “You look very nice tonight, as always,” Mr. Frost told me.
“Thank you for picking me up,” I said. “And thank you.” I smiled at Taylor when I spoke. I didn’t want to act too girlfriendy in the car. Especially not in front of Mr. Frost. Plus, even though he’d paid me the exact compliment I’d hoped for, it was in an adult “aren’t you cute” way and Taylor’s face had reddened at his dad’s compliment.
“You’re welcome,” Mr. Frost said. He left my driveway and pulled onto the street, navigating the twists and turns out of my neighborhood.
“Hey,” I said softly, finally feeling like I could talk to Taylor without his dad thinking I was rude.
“Hey,” Taylor said, turning in the seat next to me and taking my hand. He held it down so his dad couldn’t see. I noticed that he’d put extra effort into making his messy-on-purpose hair look nice. And he wore perfectly broken-in jeans and a nice black button-down I’d never seen before.
“You look really nice, Tay,” I said, adding something else quickly so he couldn’t respond. “And I’m excited about the movie. I’m in the mood for something fun—an action flick.”
“I thought you BBM’d me the wrong title by mistake or something,” Taylor said, arching his eyebrows. “Usually, when you pick a movie, it’s kind of . . .”
I turned to him, eyebrows raised to match his. “Kind of what?” I challenged.
“You know, kind of a chick flick.”
“Oh, puh-lease!” I dropped my jaw in feigned shock.
“The last movie we saw was—”
“A chick flick,” Taylor finished, grinning.
“I don’t remember that at all,” I teased. “But even if you are right, which you’re not—” I hesitated. “Well, okay, okay. The last one was. But the one before that wasn’t.”
Taylor rubbed his thumb across the top of my hand. He winked at me.
“You like?” I asked, giggling. His mock exasperated look made me laugh harder and harder. I hadn’t laughed like this in forever.
“There’s this epic Spielberg movie coming out next fall,” Taylor said, leaning closer to me. “It’s already getting so much buzz and I want to see if we can convince our parents to let us get in line for a midnight showing.”
“I’m in,” I said. “That sounds fun!”
Taylor’s blue eyes held my gaze. “And that’s why you’re my girlfriend. Always game for anything.”
A look passed across his face. If I didn’t know him better, I would have said he’d looked sad. But then it was gone. He smiled at me, the strange, unfamiliar expression gone. He pulled out his iPod, eager for me to listen to a new song he’d downloaded.
I tried to concentrate on the song and convince myself I’d imagined the look. Nothing had just happened and, even if it had, it’s not like we could talk about it now in front of Tay’s dad.
I kept the conversation light for the rest of the ride.
If something was bothering Taylor, he’d tell me once we had more privacy—once we were out of the car and alone together. But, I told myself again, there is probably nothing to even talk about.
It was my imagination, I was sure of it. Maybe I was just too Type A to let everything be fun and completely stress free. Even when I set out to have a fun night, my brain invented things to worry about.
Everything was perfect. Taylor and I were out on a carefree Friday-night movie date and nothing was going to stop us from enjoying the night.
Right?
CRYSTAL BALL, ANYONE?
ONCE WE GOT OUT OF THE SUV, TAYLOR started for the theater. I walked beside him, checking to make sure his dad had left.
Before we reached the theater entrance, I put my hand in his, pulling him to a stop and out of the way of people traffic.
“What’s up?” he asked. His features looked soft in the setting sun.
“Did something happen, in the car? I’m probably wrong, but I thought I saw a strange look. Is everything okay?”
“I’m out with my girlfriend on Friday night,” Taylor said. “Everything’s better than okay.”
But now there was something in his voice—an odd tone that made me wonder if he was being 100 percent honest with me. “Are you sure?” You can talk to me about anything—no matter what. Right?”
“Right,” he said.
I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. “No, I figured I was seeing thing. But . . .”
“But?” he prompted.
“It’s just, you know . . .”
Taylor paused, taking a breath. “I know. I mean, maybe something popped into my brain in the car that bothered me just for a second. I didn’t want you to see it. But it’s not a big deal and tonight was about just having fun. Let’s forget it for now. Okay?”
He held out his hand for me to take and angled his body back toward the theater.
I gave him my best understanding smile, but my feet felt cemented to the ground. I tried to keep my tone light as I spoke.
“Well, now you have to tell me. I want to know.”
Taylor ran a hand through his thick blond hair. “It’s really dumb.”
“If something’s bugging you, it’s not dumb. Tay, you can tell me.”
I looked at him, waiting.
Finally, he sighed.
“I don’t want to keep anything from you,” Taylor said. “But I feel like a jerk. I want you to be accepted to Canterwood—you deserve it and it would be an amazing opportunity. But at the same time, I don’t want you to leave. That would mean—”
I touched his arm. “I know,” I said. “It’s hard not to think about what might happen. Funny how we were both thinking about it, but not talking about it. I kept trying to bring it up, but I couldn’t figure out how. Not that I even think I have a chance of getting accepted.”
His Converse rolled loose gravel over the pavement, making a cereal-crunching noise.
“So, do we talk about what happens if you do get in?” he asked. “Or do we wait?”
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth. I let out a nervous breath before answering. “Getting in is such a long shot,” I said. “I think we should wait, if that’s okay. If I’m actually chosen to fill the one open seat available, then we talk about what happens. If I ever get in,” I added. “Which I won’t.”
“It’s a plan,” Taylor agreed. “But, Laur.” His eyes locked on mine. “For what it’s worth, I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll get in.”
He took my hand and led me toward the theater. I held his hand tight, smiling but feeling shaken. I’d known we’d have to eventually have this conversation, but I hadn’t expected it tonight. And I’d been doing such a good job convincing myself I’d never get in, it didn’t even seem like a conversation worth having. But hearing Taylor say it out loud, it suddenly seemed plausible. I might get accepted. He’d sounded so sure when I’d been equally convinced I’d just get rejected. Now I wondered what would happen to me and Tay if he was right and I got accepted. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, trying to push away the unanswered question.
Taylor and I got in line for tickets. The small theater, with only two screens, was bustling. At the counter, Taylor bought our tickets and handed me one. I loved the quaint theater. Tay didn’t like how small it was, but I preferred it. The cream-colored walls had framed photos of the theater in various stages of renovation over the years.
My favorite was the black-and-white photo, yellowing a little around the edges, that showed the theater when it had first opened. A man, a young boy, and a woman stood together, all smiling at the camera. Everyone knew they were the family who had opened the theater and kept it as a family-run business all these years, refusing buy outs from the large chain theaters
.
“You got tickets, I’ll get snacks,” I said. I knew all of Taylor’s favorites.
“Deal,” he said.
We walked over to the concession stand and I ordered a bucket of extra-buttery popcorn, a giant Sprite, peanut M&M’s, and Necco Wafers.
We walked down the gray carpet, and the usher took our ticket stubs and pointed us toward the theater. The lights were already dimmed, and people filed inside. The previews hadn’t started yet.
We walked down the aisle that had rope lighting on the sides. Taylor and I sat in the middle—our favorite spot. I sat down and put the Sprite in the cup holder between us. Without a word, I unwrapped my Neccos while Taylor opened his M&M’s. So far, the night had not gone anything like I’d hoped. First, I’d been unprepared to talk about the possibility of going away when Tay had brought it up. And now, despite the fact that we’d agreed not to even think about it yet, things felt off between us. We’d barely looked at each other since he’d handed me my movie ticket.
I caught myself chewing on the corner of my bottom lip—a nervous habit I’d developed at my old stable—and closed my mouth, teeth clenched together. I put a smile on my face, determined to have the fun Friday-night date I’d been looking forward to all day. Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn this night around.
I braved a glance toward Tay, turning up the wattage of my smile. “Hey,” I said, taking his hand. “I’m glad we’re here.”
I saw a brief flash of his adorable smile before it faded and turned back to the look I’d seen earlier in the evening. “Me too,” he said with less enthusiasm than I hoped. He gave my hand a squeeze before taking it back to pick up the Sprite and take a sip.
Once darkness came over the theater and the previews began, I let my smile drop. Everything in my life really did depend on Canterwood.
My friends were waiting to see if I got accepted. My family, especially Becca, went through the daily ups and downs while I waited. Even my teammates at Briar Creek could lose me next fall.
As for Taylor, he would either have a long distance girlfriend or . . . Unexpected tears blurred my vision. Taylor would either have a long-distance girlfriend or we’d break up.
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