Elite Ambition (4 page)

ONE OF THOSE GIRLS

I REACHED THE STABLE WELL BEFORE MONDAY morning's riding team meeting. We had a meeting and lesson this morning to kick off our week of preparation for the schooling show on Sunday. Mr. Conner, my riding instructor, had e-mailed everyone last night to let us know to tack up our horses and meet him in the indoor arena.

All morning, Paige and I had chatted sporadically as we'd gotten dressed. She didn't have to leave as early as I did, so she'd stayed behind in our room. Things weren't bad between us, but they weren't …
right
yet either. Maybe it was going to take time after our blowup at the Homecoming dance for things to be okay between us. But I wasn't worried about my friendship with Paige. We'd
bonded since the first night I'd been at Canterwood. I knew we'd get our full friendship back.

I thought back to our talk last night about break. I'd told her everything about how Heather had e-mailed Jacob as me. Paige had been furious. She'd asked how I'd made it through the ride back to school with Heather. I'd told her that I understood why Heather had e-mailed Jacob, even though I hated her methods. When the conversation had ended, I could tell Paige wanted to ask me the big question—if I wanted to get back with Jacob now that I wasn't with Eric. But she hadn't and I was relieved since I wasn't sure if I would have been ready to talk about it yet.

I walked down the stable aisle, my boot heels thudding on the concrete as I went to the tack room. Rows of gleaming saddles straddled racks and bridles hung from golden hooks.

I grabbed Charm's black saddle, bridle, and saddle pad, carefully balancing everything as I walked to his stall. Charm was probably still sleeping—he liked to snooze as late as he could.

I put his tack down on the trunk outside his stall and called to him, looking inside the box stall. “Charm?” Just like I'd predicted—he was sleeping in the back corner
with his head down. He lifted his head, looking up at me and blinking.

“Time to wake up, sleepy,” I said. “We'll get you all nice and shiny and go to our lesson.”

Charm's eyes looked a little less glazed over at the mention of grooming. He loved any attention and being brushed was one of his favorite things.

I held his halter, leading him out of his stall and into the aisle. The pair of crossties in front of his stall was empty, and I clipped the ties to the side of his halter. He lifted his head, watching the activity around him. Other riders started to arrive—I saw Heather had crosstied Aristocrat a few stalls ahead of us.

Heather leaned down to rifle through Aristocrat's tack trunk. She stood, saw me, and waved.

“Hey,” I mouthed, waving back.

We both got to work—there was never time to talk before morning lessons. I grabbed the dandy brush from Charm's tack box and ran it over his withers, back, and legs. Dust whisked off his hindquarters and flew into the air.

“How
do
you get so dirty overnight?” I teased. “Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?”

Charm huffed, turning his head to look at me with a look as if he wanted to roll his eyes.

I patted his shoulder. “Kidding, kidding,” I said.

I took the softer body brush and took my time going over his neck, chest, and barrel. The brush made his coat shine.

After I picked his hooves I combed his mane and tail and cleaned his nostrils and eyes with a wipe. Then it was time to tack him up.

He was awake now and all about getting to our lesson. He'd been away from the arena for a week, so he was probably ready to stretch his legs. Charm didn't move as I smoothed the saddle pad onto his back, placed the English saddle on top, and tightened the girth.

As I tightened it I shook my head at the memory of our early days together. My parents had bought Charm for me when he was five and I was a fairly new rider. Supersmart Charm had taken advantage of me whenever he could. One of his first tricks after I'd taken him home was blowing out his stomach when I was tightening his girth. Then, he'd breathed normally when I put my foot in the stirrup to mount. The saddle had slipped sideways, and I'd ended up on the ground.

Not cool.

But he hadn't done that in years.

I finished tightening his girth and picked up his bridle,
slinging it over my shoulder. It took me seconds to unclip the crossties. I put the reins over Charm's head and left them looped around his neck. I placed the bit on my palm—holding the crown piece of the bridle. Charm took the bit without hesitation. The crown piece settled over his bridle path.

“Time for a trim soon,” I said. Charm would need to be clipped and bathed before the schooling show on Sunday.

I took my helmet out of the trunk and snapped it on. I looked down at my fawn-colored breeches and royal purple shirt, checking for any bits of hay or dirt from grooming Charm. It was my first lesson in a week; I wanted to look ready.

“Let's go,” I said to Charm, patting his neck.

Ahead of us Heather had already led Aristocrat away. Charm kept his head by my shoulder as we walked down the middle of the mostly empty aisle. The only riders here who had a lesson with Mr. Conner right now were Heather and I, since we were the only two middle school students at Canterwood on the Youth Equestrian National Team. The YENT allowed Mr. Conner to teach our lessons, but he had to report often to Mr. Nicholson, the head scout for the YENT. It was a team that Callie, Julia, and Alison
all wanted to make—a decision that would be made at the next team tryout.

I stopped in midstep thinking about Julia and Alison. They'd been kicked off the advanced riding team and forced to miss YENT tryouts because of Jasmine. The former Canterwood student had framed them for cheating. With my help, the girls had proven their innocence and were prepping for the next chance at the YENT.

And Callie … I closed my eyes, thinking about my former best friend. She'd tried out for the YENT and hadn't made it. More than anything, I wanted her to make the team this time—it was her dream.

Stop thinking about that now,
I told myself.
You've got to focus and show Mr. Conner that you worked hard over break.

I started forward again, and Charm followed me into the arena. We stopped beside Heather and Aristocrat. The darker chestnut Thoroughbred laid back his ears a fraction as Charm approached. The two horses had never gotten along and were in constant competition with each other—just like Heather and I had been.

“Back to lessons at this evil hour,” Heather said with a wry smile.

“No kidding. But I did miss it. Just not the getting up early part.”

“Me too.”

Heather looked at me and the look on her face told me what she was going to ask.

“How'd things with Jacob go?” Heather asked.

My blush must have given her my answer.

Heather grinned. “Sooo … you two
are
getting back together? I mean, I'm just assuming from your red face and grin that you're barely able to hide.”

I shoved her arm. “Stop! We had a great chat, and we're going to keep talking this week. We both decided we want to try.”

Heather's eyes flickered over my face. “But what?”

Thinking about this part made my stomach hurt. “He's going to tell Callie the truth on Friday,” I said. “He said he made a mistake this entire time by letting me take the blame and he wants to prove to me that he cares enough by talking to Callie.”

Heather nodded. “He's giving you a chance to get your friend back. You have to let him go with his gut. If Jacob wants to do that for you, then let him. It's obviously still weighing on him.”

“I know it is. But—”

I stopped midsentence when Mr. Conner walked through the entrance with a girl I'd never seen before. Her
long black hair was in a side braid and her bangs came down just over her eyebrows. She led a tall gray gelding that looked to be part Andalusian with a thick mane and wavy tail. She smiled at us, her brown almond-shaped eyes warm.

“Hi, girls,” Mr. Conner said, addressing Heather and me. He stopped and the new girl stopped beside him.

“Hi,” we said back.

As we greeted her, I noticed her clothes. Tall, shiny black boots, breeches that looked as if they'd never been worn, and a soft pink v-neck shirt that looked like something I'd wear on a date.

“Heather, Sasha,” Mr. Conner said. “I'd like to introduce you to Brit Chan and her horse Apollo. Brit's a new transfer to Canterwood.”

“Hey,” I said, smiling at her. I remembered what it felt like to be the new girl.

“Hi,” Heather said. Her tone was a little less friendly than mine.

“Brit rode for the YENT at her old school,” Mr. Conner said. “She was selected during the same round of tryouts as both of you.”

Heather stiffened slightly. I knew Heather. She was no longer looking at Brit as another girl at school—Heather
now saw Brit as competition. As a rider who was on
our
YENT team.

“Mr. Conner,” Heather said. “If Brit is on the YENT now, what about Julia, Alison, and Callie? They're all working for the next tryout.”

Mr. Conner nodded at Heather, as if he'd expected this question from her. “Because Brit came to us as a YENT rider, there will still be an open slot on our team for another Canterwood student.”

That answer seemed to make Heather relax a little. I went back to looking at Brit. She stood there—so calm and seemingly not intimidated by her new teammates. There was something about her that I hadn't seen before in any student at Canterwood. I couldn't figure out just what “it” was, but when I looked at Brit, I wanted to talk to her more.

“Please go ahead and mount your horses and we'll get started with the lesson,” Mr. Conner said.

I gathered the reins, slipped my toe into the stirrup iron, and swung my other leg over the back of the saddle. Heather eased Aristocrat next to Brit's horse. I cringed, sure Heather was going to say something snarky to her.

“Nice shirt,” Heather said. “Fall Prada collection.”

Brit nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

And I'd just liked it because of the color. Was Brit one of
those
girls? A girl who'd be BFFs with the most popular girls in two seconds? What if …
no.
Not going there. I'd been around the girl for all of five seconds and I was already worrying that she was the new Jasmine on campus.
Stop judging her and ride already,
I told myself.

Heather rode Aristocrat away from Brit and toward the wall. Brit and her horse ended up between Charm and Aristocrat. We started the horses at a walk near the wall. Charm and I were behind Brit—I watched as she moved Apollo around at a relaxed walk.

“Trot,” Mr. Conner called.

Within strides, we'd all let our horses out at a trot and we were posting. Brit moved ever so slightly in the saddle—her arms tucked against her sides and her heels down.

I'd only seen her at a trot, but I had a feeling the more I'd see of her riding, the clearer it would become why she'd made the YENT.

“Reverse direction and keep trotting,” Mr. Conner said.

We crossed over the center of the arena and I sat for a beat to post on the correct diagonal.

Now, I was in front of Brit and Heather was behind
her. It made me a little nervous to have Brit watch me ride, but I tried to think of it like any other class and pretend Heather was the only one in the arena with Charm and me.

Mr. Conner stood in the center of the dirt arena, his glance switching from us to the clipboard in his hands that he used to take notes. He ran a hand over his short black hair, his dark brown eyes intense on us. He wore his usual hunter green Canterwood Crest Academy polo shirt with CCA stitched in gold thread under the collar. Canterwood was big on school spirit and the school colors were everywhere on campus.

I looked between Charm's pointed ears and wondered how Brit felt about her first lesson here. I'd been terrified during my first class. But from what I'd seen so far, she appeared to be cool.

“Sasha,” Mr. Conner said. “Lower your hands and keep them still.”

I eased my hands down a couple of inches and held them steady.
You've got to work on that,
I scolded myself. For the next few strides, I concentrated on my hands and made sure they stayed still and in the right position. The sound of hoofbeats on the arena dirt was almost like a tune I wished I could capture and put on my iPod. The rhythmic
sound pulsed into my brain, relaxing my body. I didn't have to concentrate on keeping the correct position—it was right without me thinking about it.

“Ease them into a canter, please,” Mr. Conner said.

I squeezed my legs against Charm's sides and gave him rein. He moved from a trot into a smooth canter. His Thoroughbred/Belgian blood helped him take long strides, and we were almost halfway around the arena before I realized it.

“Change direction,” Mr. Conner said. “And Heather, your legs keep creeping too far forward.”

We kept our horses at a steady canter as we switched direction. Again, I was behind Brit. At a canter, I was
really
able to see her in action. She rocked to Apollo's easy strides, and I
knew
Brit had to have trained at a fantastic school. She'd probably tell us all about it the second we got off our horses.

“Brit,” Mr. Conner said. “Watch your back position. You're hunching forward too much.”

In front of me, Brit straightened. Mr. Conner kept us cantering the horses around the arena for two more laps. It felt so good to be back in
my
arena. It had been fun riding at Heather's old stable during break, but this was where I was most comfortable.

Mr. Conner raised his hand. “Pull them to a walk,” he said.

Heather, Brit, and I slowed the horses. I ran a hand down Charm's neck. He was warm, but not even close to sweating. Mr. Conner's lessons kept him well-conditioned. The exercise hadn't fazed him.