Chosen (26 page)

Taylor:

I put away my phone and pulled up Canterwood's Web site for the umpteenth time since I'd gotten my acceptance letter. I looked through the photo gallery of dorms, classrooms and—I stopped on the stable page.

That's where
my
horse was going to live.

I untacked a
STUFF FOR HORSE
<3 list from my board. Mom had said to go to State Line Tack online and put everything I needed in a cart. Later, she, Dad, and I would go through it together and see what I'd added before placing the order.

Shopping for horse stuff made it feel real.

Soon I'd be lacing a brand new halter onto
my
horse!

MOM, DAD, BECCA AND I PILED INTO THE
Range Rover on Wednesday afternoon. It was a trip I'd been dreading.

We were on our way to pick Charlotte up from the airport. I tried everything I could think of not to go, including an attempt at faking sick that had ended very poorly with me sticking the thermometer against a lightbulb that had been on in my room for hours. Needless to say, I had to »fess up when Mom nearly had a heart attack after reading the temperature of my light bulb—108.5°—and momentarily thought she'd have to call an ambulance for me.
Stupid lightbulb.

I'd gotten a pretty bad burn on my index finger—a blister had appeared there!—and a good talking-to. My
already frazzled mother ended with my least favorite phrase: “I'm very disappointed in you, Lauren.” Then, worse yet, “You're still going.”

It went without saying that my mood wasn't the best. I'd tried another horse yesterday and it hadn't gone well at all.

The horse, a beautiful Quarter Horse/Arabian mix, was sweet, but there was no chemistry between us. She did everything I asked, but there weren't any sparks. She seemed bored with every exercise we did.

Kim tried to reassure me that I'd only tried three horses and there were two more great options available on Thursday at Jeffrey's.

“You have all summer,” she'd told me.

Everyone kept saying that, but this summer felt so short! Every day was going by faster than I'd ever imagined. Even though school had just let out, I already felt like Canterwood was going to happen way earlier than I was ready.

There were so many things to do, and finding the right horse to take to school was the most important.

“You look nervous,” Becca observed from the seat next to me. Her voice was low. “Don't worry about Charlotte. She's going to be busy with friends, and you'll be at the
stable all day. You'll spend more time with Taylor, Brielle, and Ana—you'll hardly ever even see her.”

I rifled through my metallic gray purse, looking for some gum but more than anything wishing I had a cup of chamomile tea to calm my jangly, knotted nerves.

“It's just . . . it's my last summer at home before I leave for Canterwood. I wish it could just be the two of us.”

Becca tugged down her graphic black T-shirt with a white heart on the tiny front pocket. She looked as though she wished the same thing but didn't want to say so. “Just try and go into it acting friendly. If she acts like a brat, then at least you know you tried. I'll do my best to run interference, too, if I have to.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at her and squeezed her hand in a silent gesture of gratitude.

Mom slowed the SUV, pulling up to the airport entrance. Planes roared overhead and a jumbo jet flew over us, heading toward the landing strip. The Union airport was tiny so it wasn't very busy. It was easy to find a parking spot near the entrance.

We walked through the glass doors and waited for Charlotte's plane. Mom and Dad kept their eyes on the exit, waiting to see Her Majesty come out.

“Ohh, she'll be out any second,” Mom said excitedly.

I stood back and stayed by Becca, where I felt safe and invisible. I shifted my purse from one shoulder to the next.

A shock of white-blond hair stood out among the rest of the passengers. Dad stepped forward eagerly.

“Charlotte!” Mom called, waving. “Over here!”

Charlotte wheeled a purple carry-on suitcase behind her. A pink-and-black Hello Kitty laptop bag was slung over her shoulder. I was furious with myself for liking it.

“Hi,” she said, letting Dad grab her in a hug.

Mom kissed her cheek.

“Hi, guys,” Charlotte said, addressing me and Becca.

“Hey,” I said.

As usual, Charlotte looked like she'd just stepped off a film set, not a plane. Her thick blond hair—newly cut, I noticed—grazed her shoulders. It was straight but full of smooth, shining volume—like she'd just had it blown out. She looked
très chic
and sophisticated, as usual, in black leggings with matte black ballet flats dotted with silver studs and a pink ruffle top. Her blue eyes—same color as mine—stood out against a thin line of smoky gray eyeliner. Her innocent peachy blush matched her glossy lips.

She sure was pretty on the outside. Too bad she was
anything but under all of that perfect makeup and designer clothing.

“It's good to see you,” Becca said, reaching out to hug her. I read the formal tone in Becca's voice but only because we were so close. No one seemed to blink an eye at Bec.

For some reason, it made me feel good. It was nice to know that
one
person saw through Charlotte's act.

Charlotte hugged her back, then I put an arm around my oldest sister, doing that awkward pat-on-the-back hug.

“I'm glad to be home,” Charlotte said, super chipper. “We're glad to
have
you home,” Dad said. “Do you have anything in baggage claim?”

Charlotte nodded, so we headed to baggage claim and got her other suitcase.

The five of us left the speck-on-the-map airport, making the short drive back home. Mom went with Charlotte up to her room right away to help her get settled in. From my room, I could hear laughing while Charlotte told Mom all about school.

“You're going to be such a big help to Lauren this summer,” I heard Mom say. “I know you'll be able to make the transition easier for her with tips on decorating her dorm room, living with a roommate, and being away from home—all of that.”

Charlotte was silent for several seconds. From the safety of my room, I rolled my eyes.

“Sure, Mom,” she said finally. “Oh! So did I tell you about my history professor?”

I tuned out Charlotte and Mom, pulling my laptop onto my bed and logging into my new Canterwood e-mail. I had four new messages! Each one had a huge attachment. I clicked on the first one and it was from my English teacher. He'd sent a summer reading list and several journal assignments.

Canterwood wasn't kidding about having high expectations from its students academically. Every e-mail had a PDF attachment with a long, detailed list of work that had to be completed before classes began. I printed out the assignments, using nearly half a pack of paper, and organized papers into separate folders, each of which I'd labeled for every class.

For a moment I sat still, anxiety taking hold of me. Question after question ran through my head and pounded against my temples.

What if I couldn't handle the work at Canterwood?

What if I wasn't smart enough to keep up?

What if Yates classes were just easy compared to Canterwood and I'd only thought I could do well?

What if . . . what if I failed?

The last question knocked the wind out of me. I made myself take a deep breath, which came out sharp. I hadn't even started yet and the pressure to excel already felt crushing. Especially since I had no idea who—or what—I was up against.

Back when I'd competed, I'd traveled the country to participate in every A-circuit show in my division, all while juggling straight As and getting up at four to practice. In Connecticut, I'd excelled academically—graduating in the top 3 percent of my class at Yates, a prep school known as one of the most challenging schools in the state. It was often compared to Choate in terms of its academic environment.

But I also hadn't been home and off the circuit for long. Did I make a mistake? I loved Briar Creek, Yates, my friends, and being home.

Suddenly, I began to question all of my decisions. Question marks flurried around me like snow during a blizzard. I could barely see one day into the future.

Think about why you're going
, I told myself. True, I
could
stay here and stay comfortable. I'd continue dating Taylor, riding Cricket at Briar Creek, hanging out with Brielle and Ana, and enjoying my popularity at Yates. Or, at least, I
had
been popular at Yates until I'd applied to Canterwood. If I did that, I wouldn't grow. I'd become complacent.

I
had
to take this chance. I'd regret it for certain if I didn't even try. Maybe I would flop at Canterwood. But if I didn't go and find out for myself, I'd be failing myself now.

I pulled my hair back into a messy half bun and got off my bed.

It was time for a cup of jasmine green tea, and then I'd be ready to attack the brand new pile of homework from Canterwood Crest.

Twenty minutes later my phone buzzed.

I took one more sip of my tea, put down my mug—another blue one, this time with dragonflies—and grabbed my phone off my nightstand.

There was a new BBM.

Taylor:

How's it going?

I smiled the way I did every time I saw his name.

Lauren:

Ok. Char just got home. We're staying out of each other's way . . .

Taylor:

Sorry. But @ least u'll be trying out more horses 2mrw and hopefully out w me on Fri?

Lauren:

I've been thinking abt Fri a lot. I'm excited 2 go out!

Taylor:

Me 2. It feels like I haven't seen u in 4ever
.

Lauren:

Same. Know what u want 2 do yet?

Taylor:

Dinner & night-walk in the park?

Lauren:

Wow—sounds perfect
.

We chatted for a few more minutes. Once I finished my tea, I told Taylor I had to go start some homework for Canterwood. As I started math, my
best
subject, I couldn't stop thinking about Friday. Taylor and I definitely needed some alone time.

And it was time for us to talk and figure out where we were going.

I opened the red folder I'd labeled for math and pulled out a pen and a fresh spiral notebook. After I completed the first problem, I fell into a rhythm. The homework kept me from thinking too much about Charlotte, Canterwood, horses, or anything else.