Masquerade

by Jessica Burkhart

  “I can’t see how it won’t be good for everyone. Riley hasn’t even been gone a week and I’ve talked to Clare more since Friday than I ever have.”

  Cole and I walked the horses forward, spotting Mike and Doug scrubbing saddles in the aisle. Thanking the grooms, we handed them our horses’ reins and hurried to the tack room. Mr. Conner was probably counting the seconds we were gone.

  CLARE MINUS RILEY = AWESOME

  CLARE AND FUEGO TROTTED AROUND ME IN A circle, Clare’s arms out by her sides. It hadn’t taken long to put the lunge halter on Fuego. I’d fed out enough line so the chestnut could move in a medium-size circle. Mr. Conner had made sure we all knew how to lunge horses, then had given Cole and me instructions to tell our riders.

  “Sitting trot,” I called to Clare. “Keep your arms out to the sides and leave your reins down.” Clare nodded and posted for another beat before sitting. This was the first time I’d really had to put all of my attention on Clare’s riding. She was good. Really good. Her chemistry with Fuego was undeniable—he was fiery, but listened to Clare. She balanced him out by being calm and unflappable.

  “Can you deepen your seat?” I said. “It looks like you’re bouncing just a little.”

  At first I’d been so hesitant about giving Clare instruction. But she’d responded positively to all of my constructive criticism, and it felt like when her turn was over, Clare wouldn’t be mad at me because she’d felt picked on by me. It was scary, too, to tell a fellow teammate what to do. I didn’t have Mr. Conner’s background and knowledge. What if I told Clare to fix something that wasn’t wrong?

  Trust yourself, I thought. At least a little. You’re not telling Clare to change everything about the way she rides. You’ve got to trust your gut.

  Within a couple of strides, Clare’s seat was tighter. That made me feel more confident about the validity of my suggestion.

  I moved with Fuego, turning slowly in a circle as he moved. “That looks perfect, Clare! You’re going with Fuego now.”

  Clare smiled. “Pick up your reins and bring Fuego to a walk, then halt,” I said. “We’ll change direction.”

  Clare picked up her knotted reins and slowed Fuego. I gathered the lunge line in my hand as I walked toward them—making sure not to wrap it around my hand. Mr. Conner had warned all of us never to do that in case the horse we were working with spooked and we could be pulled to the ground or dragged.

  I stepped up to Fuego, patting his shoulder. Clare smiled down at me. “That was fun and hard,” she said. “You’re a good instructor, Lauren.”

  “Whew,” I said. “I’m so glad you said that! I was worried you might be annoyed or mad from any critiquing that I gave you.”

  Clare waved a hand at me. “Omigosh, no way. Everything you said was right, and it’s not like you were screaming, ‘Clare! You totally suck and give up now!’ while I rode.”

  We giggled.

  “It did cross my mind . . . ,” I teased, grinning.

  Clare rolled her big blue eyes, pretending to be horrified. “Seriously, I want you to feel free to say whatever you’re thinking. This is practice, and we’re here to learn from each other. Plus, if you’re mean to me . . .” Now she grinned. “I’m lunging you next.”

  “And with that, let’s go the other way,” I said. We smiled at each other and got Fuego started at a walk in the opposite direction.

  I put Clare and Fuego through a variety of moves that Mr. Conner had suggested. Watching them made me proud to have them as teammates.

  Cole, spaced away from us and Lexa and Mr. Conner, had Drew trotting with no stirrups. Lexa was halted, and Mr. Conner was speaking to her.

  Mr. Conner walked over to me, not saying anything as I continued to coach Clare.

  “Bring Fuego to a walk, cross your stirrups over your saddle, and drop the reins,” I said. “Then walk for a half circle before trotting.”

  “I’ve been watching you and Clare,” Mr. Conner said.

  I grasped the lunge line tighter. Please say we’re doing a good job! I thought.

  “How does it feel to be instructing?” Mr. Conner asked. “Is Clare responding to your feedback, and do you feel free to speak up if you notice any areas for improvements?”

  “I love instructing,” I said, keeping my gaze on Clare as I spoke. “It was harder than I thought at the beginning. I was nervous about saying anything to her about places for her to improve. She made every change that I suggested, though.” I took a breath, hoping I was telling Mr. Conner the right things. “I talked to Clare about my earlier fear when we changed directions, and she was amazing—she wants my feedback.”

  Mr. Conner nodded. I kept the lunge line taut and kept moving in a slow circle, Mr. Conner moving with me.

  “Why were you anxious about giving Clare feedback?” Mr. Conner asked.

  I took a long pause before answering. “Walk,” I called to Clare, then I glanced at Mr. Conner. “I’m on the same team as Clare. I’m not a trained instructor like you. What if I thought something that needed improvement was wrong?”

  “What else?” Mr. Conner asked. “It feels like there’s more.”

  His tone was low, so only I could hear him. He spoke gently, too. It made me feel more comfortable talking to him.

  “I was scared, too, that Clare would take my comments as attacks and be mad,” I said. “But it’s not that way at all. Mainly, I was-slash-am concerned that I’ll give Clare the wrong instructions.”

  “Lauren,” Mr. Conner said, causing me to look at him for a second. His usually stern face looked softened. “You have every right to be worried that Clare, one of your peers, might take your instruction poorly. As you’ve commented and as Clare’s demonstrated, however, that’s not the case. I’m proud that you spoke to her about your fear regarding that matter.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I kept Clare at a walk while Mr. Conner spoke to me.

  “It’s also normal that you felt your input about Clare’s skills could be detrimental to her riding,” Mr. Conner continued. “Keep in mind that I asked all of you to do this exercise for a reason. I trust each of my intermediate team riders to coach the others. I want you to believe in your own skills enough to have the trust in yourself that I do.”

  The last sentence made me look up at him. “You really trust me like that?”

  Mr. Conner smiled. “You haven’t given me a reason not to. Lauren, as a rider on this team, I hope to build up your self-confidence. If we combine a healthy level of confidence with your talents as a rider, you will be well on your way to accomplishing great things.”

  I wished Khloe, Lexa, or anyone had been around to hear what Mr. Conner had just said. I half believed I’d heard him wrong.

  “Thank you,” I managed to get out. “I’ll work on that.”

  Mr. Conner smiled, patting my shoulder. “That’s what I hoped you’d say. Keep up the good work.” He looked at Clare. “Nice job, Clare. You’re executing strong, beautiful movements.”

  Clare beamed. “Thanks, Mr. Conner!”

  “I’ll be watching to see how you handle lunging.” Mr. Conner gave both of us a quick nod and headed at a brisk walk over to Drew and Cole.

  Both grinning, Clare and I gave each other a thumbs-up. Mr. Conner’s words stayed with me as I put Clare and Fuego through more exercises. He trusts you, I thought, watching Clare’s two-point position. You’ve got to start trusting yourself.

  “Please switch roles, everyone!” Mr. Conner called.

  Clare eased Fuego to a walk from the working trot they’d been doing, and I gathered the lunge line in my hands.

  I looked behind me at Lexa. She noticed me looking and, checking to be sure Mr. Conner wasn’t looking, stuck out her tongue and mouthed, Tired.

  I stuck out my bottom lip. Sorry, I mouthed back.

  Lexa smiled. Sweet Shoppe, she mouthed. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what she meant before I nodded, smiling back.

  Clare halted Fuego in front of me and dismounted.
Her freckled cheeks were pink, and a few tendrils of curly red hair had escaped from her ponytail.

  “Thank you, Instructor Lauren,” Clare said, her tone playful. “You gave us quite a workout.” She patted her horse’s shoulder. “I mean it, though, thank you for being so thoughtful with your comments. You pointed out a few things that I’ve been struggling with, and I need to devote more time to them. I hope I can give you the level of critique you gave me.”

  “Clare, geeze,” I said. “Wow. Thank you for saying that. It means more to me than you know. I had fun playing Mr. Conner, and I’m sure you will too. And please. You’re going to give me amazing feedback—I want to know everything that needs work. Honest.”

  “Okay,” Clare said. “Like you, I was feeling nervous about critiquing you. I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything.”

  “Remember what you told me?” I asked. “Just don’t say ‘Lauren! You totally suck and give up now!’ and we’ll be fine.”

  We laughed, and Clare nodded. She took the lunge halter off Fuego as Mike magically appeared with Whisper in tow. I thanked him as he handed her reins to me, then took Fuego from Clare.

  Clare motioned for me to look in the other direction. Redheaded Doug was swapping Valentino for Polo. “Do Mike and Doug have secret cell phones or something so they’re always ready to help when we need them?”

  “I’ve wondered about that too,” I said. “Maybe they have ESP and sense it when Mr. Conner needs them.”

  I slipped off Whisper’s bridle, put on the lunge halter, and then put her bridle back on. Clare clipped the lunge line to a ring on the bridle as I mounted.

  “Ready?” Clare asked.

  “Ready.”

  MY TURN

  CLARE FED OUT LINE AS I MOVED WHISPER away from her. Whisper moved smoothly beneath me at a walk, her strides long and rhythmic.

  “Drop your reins, keep your hands off Whisper, and trot,” Clare called.

  I let the leather reins rest on Wisp, held my hands just above the saddle’s pommel, and squeezed my legs against Whisper’s sides. She moved quickly from a walk to a trot. I eased up the pressure from my legs and posted. We made several circles around Clare. Whisper stretched her neck, and her ears started flicking back and forth. Uh-oh.

  Whisper realized she had more rein. Her legs moved faster as she slowly sped up her trot. It was as if Whisper was smart enough to realize she was doing something wrong, so she tried to keep me from noticing the faster pace.

  “Lauren, pick up your reins and get Whisper back to her original pace,” Clare said. “Make her do a few circles at that speed, then drop your reins again. We’ll see if Whisper takes advantage of you again or not.”

  I nodded, letting Clare know I’d heard her, and picked up the reins. I did a half halt and deepened my seat. Whisper quickly slowed to a smoother trot—the speed we’d started at. I kept pressure on the reins for a few circles. Whisper kept the same pace and didn’t try to move faster. Instead of dropping the reins all at once, I gradually gave Whisper more and more rein, making sure she stayed at an even trot before gently resting them on her neck.

  “Great idea,” Clare said. “Nice trick. Let’s see if Whisper notices this time.”

  As we circled Clare, I kept my body posture relaxed and held my hands over Whisper as if I was holding invisible reins. This time, we made it through the exercise without a problem.

  “Pick up your reins, but lose the stirrups,” Clare said.

  I crossed the stirrups in front of me so they wouldn’t bang against Whisper’s sides and held the reins.

  “Sitting trot for three circles,” Clare instructed.

  “Time’s up, everyone. Please come to the center of the arena.” Mr. Conner’s voice startled me. I’d been fully focused on Clare and Whisper.

  “Yay!” Clare said. “Great job, LT!”

  I halted Whisper and dismounted, patting her neck as Clare hurried up to us.

  “Thank you, Clare,” I said. “You were an awesome instructor. I really appreciate everything you pointed out to me. I know we had a good workout because I’m so sore!”

  “Sorry!” Clare said, giggling.

  She unclipped the lunge line and helped me take off the halter and slip the bridle back over Whisper’s head.

  Together, we walked over to Mr. Conner. A very tired-looking Lex walked Honor over to us and stopped beside Clare. Drew and Cole fell into the lineup.

  “Excellent work, class,” Mr. Conner said, smiling. “If you don’t have your horse, Mike or Doug are waiting outside the arena with your mounts. They’ll have been cooled and are ready to be groomed.”

  Whisper needed a good cooldown before I groomed her. I hadn’t been kidding when I’d said Clare had worked us hard.

  “As a reminder, you should all be following the reading schedule for your horse manual,” Mr. Conner said. “Starting now, be prepared for a pop quiz at the beginning of any lesson. If you do not pass, you will not ride during that lesson. Instead you’ll go back to your dorm room to read the pages again.”

  Major yikes! I was so lucky that Mr. Conner hadn’t quizzed us today without warning. I’d been so swamped with schoolwork that I’d let the reading for lessons slide.

  Drew raised his hand, and Mr. Conner nodded at him. “What happens at the next lesson?” Drew asked. “Do we get to retake the quiz?”

  “Yes, after skipping one lesson, you’ll take a makeup quiz with different questions covering the same material,” Mr. Conner said. “If you pass, you’ll be allowed to participate in the day’s lesson. If not, you will skip the next two lessons before you will be given a chance to be retested.”

  I frowned. I understood that equine care and health was vital to being a successful rider. Plus, I wanted to know everything possible to keep Whisper healthy, happy, and in top shape. But this new skipping a lesson if we didn’t pass Mr. Conner’s quizzes didn’t seem fair. Did he know how much schoolwork and assigned reading we had for every other class?

  “If there are more questions,” Mr. Conner said, “please come see me after my next class. Or e-mail me. I will be sending an e-mail with the consequences regarding failing quizzes and other details that will hopefully answer any questions you may have.” He marked off something on his clipboard and looked at us. “I’ll meet you and your horses in the large outdoor arena tomorrow. Good work.”

  With that, he left the arena. He left five tired riders who glanced at each other, sharing the same look: More work on top of everything else. I think sleep was the only thing left to cut down in my schedule.

  SASHA SILVER 2.0

  I WOKE WITH THE SUN ON THURSDAY MORNING. As it started to cast light over the campus, I pulled on black yoga pants, a pale pink T-shirt, and my black Nikes with sky-blue laces. There was just enough light peeking through the curtains for me to leave the lights off and let Khloe sleep. Her blond hair was spread across her zebra-print pillow and she was on her side, hugging her unicorn Pillow Pet.

  Drew and I’d had lunch together yesterday, and we talked about how stressed we both were. I brought up our shared love of running, and Drew asked me to run with him this morning before classes.

  I quietly closed the bathroom door behind me and turned on the light. Eyedrops helped take the sleepiness out of my eyes, and I pulled my long hair into a high ponytail. A splash of cool water on my face felt refreshing.

  Then it hit me.

  Hard.

  I was going running with Drew Adams. Oh, mon Dieu! What if I couldn’t keep up with him? Or what if he was the slow one? Stop, stop, stop, I told myself. Do you really believe Drew is going to be slow? I shook my head at myself.

  I squeezed a dime-size dollop of Neutrogena moisturizer with sunscreen into my hand and quickly rubbed it onto my face.

  I turned off the bathroom light, grabbed my yellow-and-green rubber SLAP Watch, and tiptoed out the door. Khloe didn’t move as I shut the door behind me. She’d been up later than me last night. After homework, she’d claimed to be work
ing on lines for Beauty and the Beast. That would have made sense, because Khloe was taking over Riley’s role of Belle instead of playing Mrs. Potts. But I’d caught a glimpse of a paper Khloe was writing on and saw birthday on it.

  “I don’t remember ‘birthday’ being in any of Belle’s lines,” I’d said to her last night.

  Khloe had given me a guilty grin. “Um,” she’d said, her voice veeery high. “You wouldn’t remember it. It’s an addition to the play.”

  I’d stared at Khloe. And stared. And stared.

  She’d burst into giggles, holding up her hands. “Okay, okay! I’m obvi not working on the play. I’m working on my roomie and BFFL’s birthday plans.”

  “Can I see?” I’d made puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeease, KK. Just one tiny hint?”

  Khloe had grasped the papers to her chest. “Nope! And don’t puppy-dog-eye me, Lauren Towers. You know way too much already. Stay on your side of the room or I’ll be forced to call security.”

  I’d snorted. “Security? You mean, Christina? Like, ‘Christina, help! My roommate is trying to look at my secret papers. Cuff Lauren and take her to Hawthorne jail immediately!’”

  Khloe had made a serious face. “Exactly. That’s what I’ll do.”

  We’d laughed and I’d let her alone, only occasionally pretending that I was going to pounce onto her bed and grab a paper.

  I smiled as I walked down Hawthorne’s quiet hallway. Every door was shut, and there wasn’t a sound except for my footsteps on the carpet. I put on my watch, checking the time. 4:56 a.m. Perfect timing. Drew and I had agreed to meet at the fountain at five.

  I opened the glass door and stepped out into the muggy air with hint of coolness. This morning, fog blanketed the campus. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me. Sun peeked through clouds, but it wasn’t enough to burn off the fog. It was so gorgeous.

  I walked toward the center of campus, taking deep breaths. My body—and mind—had missed this. Running had always been my stress reducer, but I’d had no time to run since I’d come to Canterwood. It had become apparent, though, that I would have to make time. Running was part of taking care of myself. I needed that to be on top of my game as a student and rider.