Leah let the black gelding into a smooth walk to X. She stopped, saluting sharply, and began the pattern we’d all learned. I knew every movement, and I said them to myself as Leah rode, hoping she wouldn’t go off course. Leah and Forrest had a beautiful ride—they only had a few trouble spots.
“Leah,” Kim said. “That was nice. A couple of your circles were a few meters off, and I’d like you to work on cleaner transitions. Remember that they should be seamless—this requires grace. Think of dressage like a ballet. A professional ballerina does not stop between each sequence of movements. Her dance is one movement, as far as the audience is concerned. One moment she is posed in an arabesque. The next she is in the air. The transition is invisible to the naked eye.”
Leah nodded. “I will. I knew our first circle was off, and then Forrest seemed to think that’s what I wanted him to do for the next circle. But it was my fault for allowing him.”
“I’d like you to work on those. Next lesson, I’ll be looking for improvement,” Kim said.
She turned to me. “Lauren, your turn.”
Then a strange thing happened. The anxiety I’d been holding on to in every muscle, every bone in my body, from my other lesson—the way I’d choked before the jump. The way my stomach had fallen to my knees when Kim had told me what she’d disclosed to Canterwood about my accident. It was all gone—the bad memories, the clenched stomached feeling of failure. All of the unwanted baggage I’d been carrying around with me since the failed jump fell away from me.
I remembered who I was—the girl I’d missed so much without knowing it. Lauren Towers: competitive rider. Good at dressage. At home in the arena. I felt free.
I felt like myself again. And this was my dance.
It was me, Lauren Towers, who sank into the saddle, dropping her weight into her heels. Cricket loosened under me as she walked forward and stopped exactly on X.
I knew the four things Kim would be watching for: my position-slash-aids, Cricket’s submission, her gaits, and impulsion. Ana, Brielle, and I spent hours coaching each other on all of these things. We loved that dressage’s goal was to encourage a horse’s athleticism and willingness to perform. I always shot for a score of sevens, with tens being the near-unobtainable best, when I rode. Today was no different.
After a salute and a brief pause, I asked Cricket to move into a trot and track left to C. We made a twenty-meter circle at E, which I could feel was the right size, and headed from E to K at a collected canter. I halted her at A, making her stand for five seconds, then asked her for a working trot where we made a half twenty-meter circle to the left and at C made a half twenty-meter circle to the right.
I couldn’t wait to tell Cricket how well she’d done once we were back in her stall. Everything about dressage I loved. Memorizing the tests were oddly fun for me. I would draw the course with markers and read the movements to myself over and over. The circles, collected trots, extended walks, and all of the other parts that I needed in the arena were ingrained in my brain.
When I was a kid, I’d made a set of cardboard dressage markers that I’d set up in our backyard. I’d pretend I was on horseback and would “ride” the test. Sometimes I’d even put on my dressage habit—my breeches, ratcatcher blouse, stock tie, black coat, boots, and helmet.
I put my focus between Cricket’s ears. The small mare liked dressage, too. We’d been a great pair because of it since I’d started riding her.
We made a couple more circles, then I eased her to a walk and let her move into a free walk on a long rein down the center line to X. Cricket stopped, standing square, and I saluted for my final motion of the test. I joined Dianna, Leah, Brielle, and Ana.
Kim was smiling when I looked at her. “That was great, Lauren,” she said. “It’s evident that you’re very comfortable with dressage. There’s always room for improvement, but right now I’d like you to work solely on jumping before next lesson. Either in the indoor arena or with a partner outside. You’ve got this part. You don’t need to practice as much with dressage.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And I will . . . do some jump work before our next lesson,” I added reluctantly.
I leaned forward in the saddle to rub Cricket’s neck and whisper my thanks for her incredible performance. The mare blew out a breath, most likely glad her turn was over. Now we got to relax and watch the rest of the riders.
Dianna, Brielle, and Ana had good rounds. Dianna’s test was particularly sharp—every movement was alternately crisp and soft when it needed to be.
After our tests, Kim put us through a few flatwork exercises that made my legs and arms ache, but in the kind of way that I knew the workout was good for me. We worked for another half hour before Kim motioned for us to dismount. We followed her instructions and stopped our horses in front of her.
“Thank you, girls,” Kim said, holding her red clipboard. “You all came prepared and worked hard. I appreciate everything you put into this lesson. We’ll be working outside next class, weather permitting, so be prepared to meet in the outdoor arena. Okay! You’re free to go. Have a great weekend, ladies!”
TRAUMA-SLASH-DRAMA
DIANNA AND LEAH WAVED TO BRIELLE, ANA, and me as they led their horses out of the arena. They were probably going shopping—it was their favorite after-lesson activity. Usually, they only stayed long enough to cool out their horses and groom them.
“Trail ride?” Ana asked, looking between me and Brielle.
I nodded. “I vote we go bareback.”
“I’m in,” Brielle said. “It’ll keep Zane cooler.”
“Same with Breeze,” Ana said. “She’s too hot from the lesson.”
We led our horses close to the tack room, unsaddled them, and took turns holding each other’s horse while we put away our saddles and pads. I brought an absorbent towel with me and the three of us dried the sweat off our horses.
Grabbing Cricket’s mane in my hand, I crouched down a bit, then pushed off the ground, swinging myself onto her back.
“Show-off,” Brielle said, grinning. She used the mounting block and slid onto Zane’s back. Ana followed her in kind, and the three of us walked our horses out of the stable, heading for our favorite spot in the woods.
Most of the area surrounding Briar Creek was rural, so there was a ton of farmland for us to explore. Not to mention no one was ever in sight except for one elderly farmer who always refused to let us walk on his land. It was a running joke in the stable that he probably checked for hoof prints in the field every day.
I let my legs hang loose around Cricket’s sides. Her ears pointed forward and there was an extra bounce in her stride as we left the stable behind—she was glad to hit the trails. Zane, Breeze, and Cricket walked side by side as we walked past the fences of the turnout pasture, another part of the Briar Creek renovation that Kim was still working on.
We kept the horses at a slow walk, making sure they cooled and eased their muscles after the lesson. The well-worn dirt path was so familiar it was likely I’d be able to find my way to my favorite part of the trail that led to the creek with my eyes closed.
“Okay,” Ana said, looking at Brielle. “So spill it already! You made us wait through the entire lesson.”
“Yeah,” I added, having almost forgotten. “You IM’d Will! Tell!”
Brielle was one of the most popular girls in our grade and was always on dates with different guys. But she’d never like-liked any of them the way she did Will. For a second, she only smiled this I-have-a-secret smile.
“Bri-elle!” Ana shouted.
Brielle couldn’t hold back even a second longer. “WhenIsawhimlogonIwaslikeomigod!” All of Brielle’s words mashed together.
Ana and I laughed.
“Bri, if you’re not into him anymore, just tell us,” I teased.
Ana, known to grow impatient while popcorn was cooking in the microwave, looked like she was about to explode. “Brielle! Slow down and tell us what happened before I completely freak out.”
<
br /> Brielle’s face was bubblegum pink. She took a breath. “Okay. I just logged on for a second to see if I had any IMs and he logged on. I almost shut my laptop!”
“So, what’d you do?” Ana asked. The girl had zero interest in boys herself, but when it came to her BFF since kindergarten, she seemed to need to know immediately. It was adorable.
Brielle continued, her two besties hanging off of every word. “Well, I checked my messages. I mean, I wasn’t going to IM him. I thought I heard my phone ping from a text, so I looked over to check and an IM popped up on my computer.” Brielle looked at both of us, one at a time, I imagined to gauge our reactions. “It was . . . from Will,” she clarified.
“We got that!” Ana exclaimed.
“What did it say?” I asked.
Brielle paused, like she was gearing up for something big. “He said ‘hey, Bri.’” She squealed. “He called me Bri! Like, only you guys do that and he just did. I said hi and I asked him what he was doing today.”
Ana, eyes wide, looked at me and we smiled at each other. Brielle was so giddy and cute about all of this.
“He said he was skateboarding with his friends. Then he asked what I was doing. I told him I had a riding lesson, then I was hanging out with you guys.”
“It’s a good sign that you both asked each other questions,” I said. “It means he’s interested in you. No doubt. Becca had told me that exact same thing when I first started IMing with Taylor.”
“Well, you might just be right about that, LT,” Brielle said. “Because he asked me to the dance!”
“What?!” Ana and I said at the same time. Our horses flicked their ears back at the noise we made.
“Brielle! This is huge!” I said.
Ana reached over and high-fived Brielle. “I’m so happy for you! We need to celebrate immediately.”
“I’ve got to start looking for dresses and accessories, like, now,” Brielle said, still smiling in a glowing-y way. “I’m going to start looking online right after this. Then I’ll beg my mom to take me to the mall so I can try on options in case I order something from a Web site and it doesn’t fit. I mean, it obviously has to be perfect.”
“Don’t worry—you’re the best dress shopper I know,” Ana said. “You’ve dragged me to the mall for, oh, I don’t know, about twelve dozen shopping trips.”
“We’ll help you pick out the one,” I said. “But Brielle, you’re totally gorgeous no matter what you wear.”
“Thanks, girls,” Brielle said, the pink fading back to Bri’s natural pale complexion, with a lingering happy glow.
“What would I do without you both by my side? Laur-Bell and her killer fashion sense and my little Ana-Banana to stay by our sides during every shopping extravaganza. And,” she added, when Ana opened her mouth to speak, “to make sure my makeup is as stylish as a girl on a magazine cover.”
Ana smiled, obviously flattered. “No artist would desert her bestie in her time of need—or, in this case, in need for makeup.”
We all giggled and got the squeals and leftover questions out of our systems until the trees cleared and the dirt changed to grass.
This was one of my favorite parts of the trail because now, we had enough room to canter across the field. On the other side was the creek. I couldn’t wait to take off my boots and cool my sweaty feet. If I was hot, I knew Cricket was too. The mare loved water—I had to pay attention to her every second we were wading in the creek. Once, she’d tried to lay down and roll. Bad girl.
“Let’s canter,” I said to my closest friends.
With collective nods as our cue, we all urged our horses into a canter. They were never competitive with each other—none of them tried to race ahead of the other. Cricket’s dark mane blew in the wind, tickling my hand. I loved riding bareback.
For so long, I’d only concentrated on competing. I’d always loved horses, but not the way I did now. I paid attention to everything about Cricket, from the way she wrinkled her muzzle at smells she didn’t like to the way she seemed to prance when she knew she’d done a good job at something. Riding without a saddle made me feel like part of my horse, making me that much more aware that a one-thousand-pound animal was in my hands and connected to me in the most amazing way.
Cricket took more strides than Breeze and Zane because she was smaller, but she had no problem keeping up. When her hooves struck the ground, the sound pounded in my ears. I barely moved on her back. We were completely in sync after so many lessons from Kim. Especially after our dressage practices.
Sunlight, now unfiltered from the lack of trees, hit the blades of grass, turning each blade into an emerald color. I took a deep breath of the late spring fresh air and enjoyed the way the sun warmed my face without making me feel overheated. After a few more strides, I began to pull up Cricket. Beside me, Ana and Brielle did the same.
The horses tossed their heads almost in unison, and the three of us laughed.
“We weren’t the only ones who enjoyed that ride,” Ana said, patting Breeze. The strawberry roan tugged on the reins, probably sensing that the creek was near. The horses loved to play in the water as much as we did.
All three of them walked down the gentle embankment that leveled off to sandy dirt. We stayed atop our horses and tossed our boots and socks aside, then rolled up our breeches.
“Going in!” I called out, giving Cricket free rein to walk in wherever she wanted. Without hesitating, the mare stepped into the shallow part of the creek. She easily navigated around a few large rocks and struck her right foreleg against the water, sending it spraying around us.
I giggled. The cool water drops that hit my feet and legs felt good. Brielle and Ana had let Zane and Breeze into the creek. Their horses weren’t timid in the water, either. Ana let Breeze stretch her neck to the water.
“Only a tiny sip for you, missy,” Ana said to Breeze.
“Same for Cricket,” I said. “She got colic once last year. It was so scary to go into the stall and see her trying to kick her stomach. Kim and I took turns walking Cricket for hours until her stomach felt better.”
I’d hated seeing Cricket with an upset stomach.
Cricket and I waded deeper, until the water lapped at her belly. She snorted and craned her neck for a drink, then craned her neck to look at me. Water droplets on her chin hair made me laugh.
“Look, guys.” I turned her toward Brielle and Ana.
“Aww!” Ana said. “She’s so cute.” Ana let go of Breeze’s knotted reins, resting them on the mare’s neck. She leaned back, resting a hand on the mare’s croup. “Do you wish she was yours?”
I tilted my head. “Where did that come from?”
“Just wondering,” Ana replied, shrugging. “We all ride school horses. But what if you get into Canterwood?”
I thought I saw sadness on Ana’s face, but it was gone before I could be sure.
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said. “But as far as Canterwood goes, you guys know as well as I do that it’s not an issue anymore. Not after Kim told the head coach about the, um, you know. Besides, the more I think about it, the happier I am that she did tell. About the accident, I mean. Because the more I consider it, the less I want to leave.”
I smiled at my friends, but they exchanged an uneasy look.
“What?” I asked. “Did I miss something?”
“No!” They both said at once.
I raised an eyebrow.
“It’s just . . . ever since you first got here,” Brielle said, “Canterwood was something you always dreamed about.”
I looked at Ana, watching to see what she would say.
She shrugged. “We love you, Lauren, you know we do. And if it was just the three of us—no other factors—we’d keep you here with us forever.”
I smiled. I could count on Ana, she always—
“But,” Ana continued, “there are so many other factors. Like riding. And Canterwood.”
I paused, weighing my words carefully. “I get it,
you guys,” I said. “You’re right. I always talked about getting into Canterwood.”
“Dreamed about,” Brielle cut in.
“True,” I agreed. Beneath me, Cricket was still, as if she knew our conversation was important. “I dreamed about getting into Canterwood. I always wanted it. In fact, it’s one of the reasons my family moved here. As you know, my parents told me that Sasha Silver started out at Briar Creek—that’s the whole reason I wanted to be here. But things are different now.”
Ana glanced at Brielle before speaking. “But,” she said, “not much has changed. I mean, your accident—”
Brielle shot Ana a look that said be careful!
“I’m sorry,” Ana continued. “But it’s true! You wanted to go to Canterwood long after . . . after that. So what else changed?”
For a second it was hard not to feel really hurt. I wanted to whirl Cricket back toward the stable. I knew I was just feeling overwhelmed by the conversation. After all, we were revisiting all of my least favorite topics to discuss these days: my accident, Canterwood, leaving all of my favorite people behind. And now, suddenly it felt like two of my favorite people were asking me to leave. Or, at least, asking an awful lot of questions about why I wasn’t leaving . . . almost as if they wanted me to leave. I focused my gaze on Cricket for a while before I spoke. I never cried in front of anyone but my family, and I wasn’t about to let that change now.
I cleared my throat, smiled, and lifted my head to make eye contact with my friends. “Okay,” I said evenly. “If I felt like Canterwood was still an option, you both know me better than to think I’d turn it down”—I snapped my fingers—“just like that.”
“You wouldn’t?” Brielle asked.
“Of course not!” I said.
“I told you,” Ana said to Bri, rolling her eyes. She looked at me, shaking her head. “I told Bri you wouldn’t turn it down, but she didn’t believe me! She was like, ‘You don’t know what it’s like, Ana.’”
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