by Kate Lattey
Whichever it is, it works. Finn and I jump the course as one, finding a good distance to every fence, not touching a single rail. I hold to the verticals, ride forward to the oxers, recognise long spots from four strides out, balance her on the turns, and ride accurate, smooth lines between each fence. When we land clear over the last, I don’t care whether we win the class or not, I’m just so delighted with my pony’s performance. And so proud of myself, not only for having improved so much in such a short time, but for having had the courage in the first place to ask Abby for help. No regrets, I think to myself, and have a sudden compulsion to tell Nina how well everything has worked out. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t even be here, and I make a mental note to thank her when I get home.
As soon as I’m out of the ring, Abby starts talking to me about strategies for the jump-off. There are over thirty competitors in this class, so after watching a few rounds, I take Finn back to the truck for a drink and a short rest. When there are only a handful of riders left, Abby walks back over and legs me back into the saddle.
“Seven clears so far, so the jump off will be competitive, but if you ride those inside lines we talked about you should be fine.”
We head back to the arena, bypassing Ring 1 which is now host to the Pony Grand Prix. This is a three-star show, and some of the top pony and rider combinations in the country are out there warming up. I watch as they jump the practice fence, one after the other, all of them perfect. Abby pauses, watching a young girl who can’t be more than twelve years old ride a bright bay pony down to the oxer and soar effortlessly over.
Shaking her head with a wry grin, she looks up at me as we walk on.
“Did you see that?”
I nod. “Super pony,” I comment, trying not to vocalise my envy at such a young rider having that kind of horseflesh to compete on. I wonder if she knows how lucky she is, or if she takes it all for granted. Abby doesn’t leave me speculating for long.
“Isn’t she? She was one of Steph’s, you know. Family-bred, like most of hers, and wicked talented, but Steph couldn’t get Molly to jump clear at a metre-ten, let alone around a Grand Prix course. Just used to refuse on her, all the time, and no reason for it that anyone could work out. Had her looked at by chiros, dentists, farriers – you name it, they tried it. Eventually they gave up and tried to put her in foal, but she wouldn’t take, so they ended up leasing her out to a family friend for their kid to do Pony Club on.” Abby gestures over her shoulder at the young girl as she canters the pony down to the practice fence once more. “Katy had her jumping Grand Prix by the end of their first season, and the pony’s now ranked in the top ten in the country.”
“Wow! She must be an amazing wee rider,” I reply, looking back over my shoulder at the girl as she brings the pony back to a trot and pats her arched neck.
“She’s not bad,” Abby agrees. “But my point is that Steph isn’t perfect, and she’s not always right. Don’t you ever forget that.”
I’ve never had so much fun in the ring before as I do in that jump-off. Cutting the corners, slicing the verticals at forty-five degree angles, still turning as we jump into the double and then straightening in two strides to jump back out again, galloping down to the last fence and flying over with room to spare…Finn and I have a blast, and I’m grinning from ear to ear as I walk her out of the ring on a long rein.
I see Anneke on my way out of the ring, and she greets me with an impressed smile. “Epic jump off! She’s looking amazing!”
“I have the best coach,” I gloat, motioning to Abby, who is still standing ringside.
“I heard you’ve been up at her place for the holidays. Jealous! You must’ve learned a ton, you lucky thing.” Anneke is still smiling, her jealousy clearly tempered by genuine friendship, and not soured into a negative emotion. I look around for Tegan, but don’t see her. Maybe she’s pitched a fit and gone home. Wouldn’t surprise me.
“You’re a cert for the team now,” Anneke adds as she picks up Nonny’s reins. “Good work! I hope I get round quick enough to join you.”
She trots away, leaving me puzzled. What team? Then I see Alec walking towards me on foot, and ride over to greet him, dismounting when we meet.
“Man, I saw your round!” He’s grinning at me, looking impressed. “How much did you pay Abby to teach you to ride like that? Seriously, you’ll be kicking my butt in no time.”
“No time at all,” I agree as I run up Finn’s stirrups.
“You should make the team for HOY, anyway,” Alec says, and suddenly I realise what Anneke had meant. The Pony Club Team event at the Horse of the Year show. In my disappointment at failing to get into the team for Cambridge, I’d totally forgotten about HOY.
“When are they picking that team?” I ask, wondering how many more good performances I’ll have to put in to qualify.
Alec raises an eyebrow. “Today. This class,” he says, waving his arm towards the ring where Anneke is just trotting in. “It’s a make-or-break, with the two highest-placed triallists riding for Waikato at HOY. Which actually means it’s even more competitive than Cambridge, because it’s the top two in our whole region.”
My mind is reeling. “And you think I have a shot?”
“You’re winning so far,” he tells me. “Although Anneke’s carving it up out there.”
I turn and we all watch Anneke as she spins Nonny around the jump off course, racing him through the flags to stop the clock half a second faster than my time. But nobody else in the class even comes close to us, and much to my astonishment, they call me into the ring in second place. I beam at the judge as I receive a large rosette and a good amount of prize money, before following Anneke’s pony on a victory gallop. Finn clearly thinks she deserved to be the winner, nearly pulling my arms out of their sockets trying to overtake Nonny, and I’m breathless and laughing when we finally come back to a walk.
Anneke and I leave the ring together, but before we can be congratulated by our friends and family, a solid young woman with a friendly freckled face steps up to us, clipboard in hand.
“Good work girls! First and second, just what I like to see.” She hands Anneke a large envelope, then passes a second one to me. I take it, slightly bewildered, and look at my name hastily scrawled across the front of it.
“Those are the entry forms and details for HOY. Fill them out and get them back to us as soon as possible.”
“We’ll get it sorted Kim, don’t worry,” Anneke says, tucking her envelope under her arm and giving me a satisfied look. “And get ready to have your socks knocked off, because we’re going to be the best pony team Waikato has ever had.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I can’t believe it.”
“I know.”
“They picked her, over you? Are they insane, or just stupid?”
I freeze, my heart pounding. They don’t know I’m here, standing only a metre or two behind them, barely concealed by the crowd of Pony Club parents milling around at the end of the rally. I clutch the card in my hand that I have to get signed off, confirming that I have attended a sufficient number of rallies this season to qualify to represent my club at Horse of the Year. I still can’t quite believe that it’s going to happen, and it would seem that I’m not alone in feeling that way.
Sarah flicks her hair back over her shoulder and sighs. “It’s stupid. Just because they couldn’t be bothered holding proper trials, so they decide to let just one class make or break it for everyone. And I told them that Mickey was a bit colicky that morning, I didn’t even want to compete him but they said if he didn’t jump in the class, he wouldn’t be considered. It wasn’t his fault he had rails down.”
“Jay went double clear,” Natalie says. Her tone is neutral, but at least she’s sticking up for me, or trying to.
Amy snorts. “She fluked it, because she’d been off training with Abby Brooks. What’s the bet Abby rode the pony for her every day and schooled it properly – no wonder it went clear! One lucky
round and she gets into the team.”
“It’s so dumb,” Sarah continues. “They’re so going to regret it. At least we know that next year they’ll change the rules back.”
“How do you know that?” Natalie asks, sounding curious.
“Everyone’s talking about it. They’re insisting – relying only on one event is so stupid. Actually, I heard that Kim has got so much flak for picking Jay that she actually considered changing the rules this time, which would’ve been the only sensible decision, really, but then Abby stepped in and stuck up for Jay. She reckons she can do it, but she must have spent most of this season blindfolded, because I bet you a thousand bucks that Jay can’t jump a single clear round at HOY, least of all in the teams event.”
“At least the rest of the team are all pros,” Amy says, her opinions as always aligned with her sister’s. “As long as they all go clear, they can just drop Jay’s score for every round and they could still get through. They could even win, despite her. Then she’ll just get a ribbon for turning up. It’s the height of unfair.”
My throat is dry and my face burning at their words. As if my own doubts weren’t enough, now everyone else thinks I’m going to fail as well. I turn my back in case they see me, unwilling to let them know that I have overheard their conversation, and come face to face with Jenny, our branch’s Head Coach.
“There you are Jay,” she says loudly. “I’ve been looking for you, I need to sign off your rally card.”
I hand it to her, and she flips it open and scrawls her signature across it.
“Well done for getting into the team, by the way,” she says, and I smile at her, glad that someone is happy for me. She goes on. “Abby must have worked wonders on you over the holidays, because I’ve never seen your pony jump very well at all. I hope it wasn’t a fluke.”
That word again. I shake my head, accepting my rally card back from her. “It wasn’t. I just had to learn how to give Finn a better ride, but we’ve got it sorted now and she’s jumping really well.”
“I hope so. I’ll see you at HOY.” Jenny gives me a brief pat on the shoulder, then turns and walks away as I push my way back through the throng and go to find Alec.
At least he’s happy for me – and really, if there’s anyone who should be feeling bitter about my selection it’s him, since he finished in third place, right behind me. If I’d made a single mistake, it would be him going to HOY instead. But when I mention that to him, he just gives me a strange look.
“And if I’d made a single mistake, I wouldn’t have made the team either,” he points out.
“True.” I tighten Finn’s girth and prepare to mount. “Can I ask you something?”
“Fire away.”
“Do you think I deserve to be in the team?”
Alec rolls his eyes. “What does it matter? You are in the team, end of story. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Of course.”
“Then quit your whining. Or I’ll go and tell Jenny that you’ve quit, due to a complete and utter lack of balls.”
“Maybe I should, and save myself the embarrassment.”
Alec walks over to me and grabs me by the shoulders, holding me still. “Do I need to shake some sense into you?”
I meet his eyes steadily, trying to stop the tears springing into my own. I’ve been so emotional lately, it’s driving me mad, but I can’t stop myself from welling up any more than I can stop the wind from blowing, the grass from growing, or the flies from biting my pony’s flanks. Finn swishes her tail and stamps a hind leg as Alec gives my shoulders a reassuring squeeze.
“You’re going to be fine.”
“What if I mess it up?”
He shrugs. “What if you don’t?”
“Everyone thinks I’m going to,” I tell him.
Alec looks right at me, his hazel eyes determined. “So prove them wrong.”
* * *
School goes back before I know it, and everything returns to normal with one exception - Tegan still isn’t talking to me. On our first day back, I got on the bus at my usual stop and sat in our usual seat. When she got on a few minutes later, she walked past me as though I wasn’t there and sat down the back, striking up a loud conversation with the Haxton boys. They were as unimpressed by that as I was, and she found herself frozen out when she got back on that afternoon, much to Alec’s amusement.
Since then Tegan’s been forced to sit in the only unclaimed seat on the bus, which is directly across from me. For the first week and a half she stared past me as though I didn’t exist, but in the last couple of days she’s been making eye contact, although still shunning my attempts to smile at her. I don’t know whether to fight for her friendship or not – I miss her craziness and I definitely miss having someone to talk to on the bus, but it’s also a relief not to have to constantly be trying to work out how she’s going to react on any given day.
I’m gazing out the bus window and worrying about how I’m going to get Finn ready for HOY when the bus pulls up at Tegan’s stop. She looks at me the whole way down the aisle, and for a second I think she’s going to sit down next to me like normal. But at the last minute she changes her mind, and sits opposite me again. Moments later, Natalie drops into the seat next to me and strikes up a conversation.
“Hi, how are you? Head all better now?”
“Fine, thanks,” I assure her, glancing past her to catch Tegan’s expression. As predicted, she’s staring at me with a look of disgust on her face. We make eye contact and she turns her head to the side, staring resolutely ahead as the bus pulls away from the stop. The twins stalk down the aisle, their expressions mirroring Tegan’s as they see Natalie sitting next to me.
Amy stops and nudges Natalie’s shoulder. “Hey. We’re sitting back there.”
“I’ll be there in a second,” Natalie tells her.
Amy opens her mouth to argue, but the bus driver sees her standing up and yells at her to quit chattering and sit down. She stalks down the aisle to join her sister, and Natalie turns back to me.
“So I’ve got a lesson booked with Amanda on Thursday after school, and she’s meant to be giving my sister a lesson too, but Brooke’s got a ballet exam so she can’t make it. And Mum was going to cancel but I said I’d ask if you wanted the slot. I mean, since Amanda’s going to be there anyway, and you said you wanted more lessons.”
“Oh.” I’m torn between being interested in the idea, and weirdly disappointed that she only sat next to me to ask a favour, rather than because she wanted to be friends. But I push those thoughts aside and focus on the question she’s still waiting for me to answer. “Um, sure. If you think she wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course not. You’d be doing her a favour,” Natalie says assuredly. “Otherwise she’d be out fifty bucks. Oh, that’s what the lesson costs,” she adds. “Which is pretty good value because she goes for a full hour and she makes you work the whole time.”
“That’s fine,” I tell her. “But that’s not what…I just meant, if you think she’d be okay with it, after I didn’t buy Buzz,” I explain. “I did try him, but he wasn’t what I was looking for.”
“Oh, that. We were talking about him last week actually,” Natalie says, and leans closer, lowering her voice. “And just between us, apparently someone else was going to buy him but he failed his vet check. Big time.”
“No way!” I hadn’t even thought about getting a vet check, and I’m suddenly very glad that I’d made the decision to stick with Finn.
“Yeah, he’s got arthritis in his hocks apparently. Amanda was really annoyed because Jo swore he was fully sound, but it turns out they’d been giving him hock injections for the last year! You really dodged a bullet there.”
“Sounds like it.” I’m surprised by how relieved I am to hear that the pony wasn’t the bargain I’d thought he was. Imagine selling Finn and ending up with an old arthritic pony instead, and I shudder at the thought. “Well then sure, if that’s okay with Amanda, I’d love to have a le
sson.”
“Great! I’ll text her about it now.” Natalie whips her cellphone out of her pocket and starts composing a message, then glances at me. “Do you want to come down to our place for it, or should I give her directions to Alec’s?”
“I’ll come to yours,” I say quickly. “We don’t have much in the way of jumps out.”
“Okay. Although fair warning, she’ll probably drill you on flatwork for most of the time. She’s a real stickler for that.”
“So’s Abby,” I tell her, and Natalie looks up again, her thumb hovering over the screen.
“You have to tell me all about that,” she insists. “I saw some of your photos online. It looked amazing! And you rode Steph’s horses as well?”
I fill Natalie in on my holiday for the remainder of the bus ride, and it’s not until we’re pulling up outside the school and she stands up that I see Tegan’s face. She looks utterly disgusted with me, so I grab my bag and follow Natalie off the bus without sparing Tegan a backward glance. It’s about time she got a taste of the cold shoulder she’s been aiming at me for the past few weeks.
But I don’t get away that easily. Natalie and I have just gone our separate ways at the school gate when Tegan blows up next to me like a bitter southerly wind.
“What was that? You’re friends with her now? Have you lost your mind?”
“No, just my best friend,” I retort.
Tegan has the grace to look slightly chastened, but it passes quickly. “Well it looks like I’ve been replaced by the Snow Queen, so I guess I’m the one who dodged the bullet,” she says smugly.
I glare at her. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to eavesdrop?”
Tegan starts to speak, then snaps her mouth shut, clearly reconsidering whatever she was going to say about my mother. I keep walking, trying to keep my emotions in check. I want nothing more than to throw down with Tegan right now and air out everything we’ve been bottling up, but I don’t want to do it in front of the hundred or so students milling around us.