Initiation (16 page)

I put on my velvet show helmet. I intended for Mr. Conner to see that I was taking today seriously.

“Ready, pretty?” I asked. “We have . . .” I checked my watch. “Plenty of time to warm up and then head to the big arena.”

I picked up my BlackBerry to type a quick text to Becca. I was sure she hadn't forgotten about my test, but I wanted to be sure she was sending big-sister-good-luck vibes at four-forty on the dot.

My phone blinked. BBMs.

Becca: Lauren, you are going to KILL it. I have no doubt. I'm awesome and we share the same DNA so . . .

I laughed and kept reading.

BBM the sec ur done & tell me abt it. Kiss Whisper 4 me. Love u both! xx

Taylor: I know ur testing today. GL, LT! You'll b perfect!

Brielle: You don't need luck 4 2day! BBM or Skype me later!

Ana: Don't b nervous. Ur going 2 b amazing.

I locked my phone and put it in my trunk. I knew I wouldn't need to message Becs. Not only had she remembered—every single one of my friends had remembered about today.

Wow.

Just because I wasn't in Union didn't mean they'd forgotten about me. I smiled, feeling their warmth all the way in Canterwood.

I led Whisper down the aisle.

We passed the big indoor arena where a girl in my history class trotted a blue roan in circles.

Mr. Conner, broad arms crossed, watched and wrote on the paper held in place by an obviously well-worn clipboard.

Keep walking. It'll only make you nervous if you stay in one place.

Turning Whisper away, I walked her to the other arena. Six or seven other riders warmed up inside. I recognized two—Kacie Freeman and Jayllex Mason—from some of my classes. Khloe had told me that they were trying out for intermediate. And she'd been honest when I'd asked. She'd said they were both good riders.

I settled into Whisper's saddle and pretended I had blinders on. I didn't allow myself to watch anyone else.

Whisper walked on a loose rein to the arena wall. I made sure the positions I'd learned from day one of riding were correct: toes up, heels down, a light hold on the reins, knees bent at the right angle, back straight but not too much, and elbows tucked in.

Someone stood in the doorway, a bright orange shirt that caught my eye.

I glanced over. Riley stood in the entrance, leaning against the wall. She waved, giving me a huge smile.

I didn't know what she wanted, but I knew one thing: I was not going to let her throw off my practice.

Whisper eyed the other horses, craning her neck to look. I squeezed my legs against her sides and did a half halt to get her attention back where it belonged: on me. I made sure I did the same in return and made sure not to look at Riley.

I asked Whisper for a trot and her gait was smooth as could be—the transition seamless. Her hooves barely made a sound in the arena dirt.

I took her through easy exercises during our warm-up— nothing that would exhaust her. And, though I didn't look at Riley once, I felt her there, still in the doorway.

I eased Whisper from a trot to a walk. “Good job, girl,” I said. I leaned forward and patted her neck. “You did great.”

I checked my watch. Time to head over to the arena. Whisper and I could go inside in a few minutes. Dismounting, I eased the reins over Whisper's head and headed for the exit.

Riley, her long hair in a high ponytail, walked up to us.

Treat her like any other competitor,
I told myself.
She can pull the mean girl act all she wants, but I will be professional.

“Lauren, wow,” Riley said, smiling. But her smile wasn't warm—it was subzero.

“Thanks,” I kept walking. “We have to get to the arena.”

Riley caught up and walked beside me. “I'm sure you'll do the best you can with all of the pressure. We're all so lucky to be here and riding for Mr. Conner. He's one of the best instructors in the country.”

“True. We're all very lucky,” I said, walking a bit faster.

“A lot of riders are intimidated by him,” she persisted. “I can tell that you're not. I don't know how you're so calm. I thought about everything testing meant and how it would affect my entire year. It scared me that this was the
one
chance I had to determine what team I'd ride for until I could test again next spring.”

“I'm not focused on what
team
I'll make,” I said. “I'm riding for Mr. Conner. That's it. Whatever decision he makes is mine to respect.”

“Just as well. The beginner team sounds like a better fit for you,” Riley said. “Less pressure, new student, you know the drill.”

She was trying so hard to shake me, it was almost humorous now.

We reached the big arena. There were still five minutes before I could go in. The horse and rider I'd seen before were gone now. Mr. Conner shifted through some papers on a long wooden table along the wall.

“Riley,” I said. “Your pep talk was exactly what I needed
to hear.” I kept a smile on my face and sarcasm out of my voice. “As Madame LaFleur would want us to say,
‘Merci!'
”

“De rien,”
Riley said, her tone not so cheery. “Got to go!”

When she was gone, I buried my face in Whisper's neck, giggling.

“That was way too funny,” I said. “Maybe she'll think twice before trying to mess with us again.”

I took a slow breath in. It had taken so much to get to this point. Gratefulness for so many things overwhelmed me.

My dream horse. The opportunity to ride for Mr. Conner. My acceptance to Canterwood. New friends. Old friends. A family that supported me.

No matter what team I made, I was proud to say I was a student and equestrian at Canterwood Crest Academy.

“Let's do this, girl.”

I mounted, and Whisper stood still as I lowered myself into the saddle. I didn't wait another second. I squeezed my legs against her sides, and she walked through the entrance. This arena was
huge.
It had room to jump, practice dressage, and do group work with many other riders.

The vaulted ceiling's wooden beams were light and polished-looking. On the far side large windows let
sunshine inside. At the front of the arena, an empty skybox looked like prime real estate. I wondered if we were allowed to watch the advanced team or even the YENT practice. If I
ever
got to watch Sasha Silver ride . . .

Mr. Conner walked to the exit door and handed a sheet of paper to the groom named Doug. Doug, tan and lanky, took the paper and left. Mr. Conner looked every bit the serious, high-level instructor. His dark hair was cropped short. He was tall and muscular, and he had an obvious tan from constantly working outside with the horses. I couldn't imagine him putting up with much from girls like Riley.

He smiled and walked over. “Hello, Lauren,” he said. He extended a hand to me, his brown eyes warm.

I shook his hand. My tiny hand worked to hold its own in his sincere and very firm welcoming grip. “It's nice to meet you, Mr. Conner,” I said, the strength in my voice surprising me.

My heart pounded so hard it hurt. This was it. He would judge me before I even got to ride.

“Lauren,” Mr. Conner's voice was gentle, “today you're entering my arena as a brand-new rider. I want to be honest—I've watched you compete and am aware of your past titles in dressage. You're young, but you've already made huge strides in the equestrian world.”

“Thank you,” I said, still unsure where this conversation would take us.

“But none of that will be considered today,” Mr. Conner said.

I still wasn't sure if this was good news or bad. I nodded, despite my confusion.

He seemed to sense my confusion because, after a short pause, he continued. “No performance but this one will count when you test,” Mr. Conner clarified. “A few rules have changed recently, so I want to be sure everything about this test ride will be clear. So please, feel free to ask me questions at any point.” He put his clipboard in his other hand. “Sound good?” he asked me, smiling.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Thank you.”

He nodded and continued with what sounded like a much-practiced speech. “A student must remain on a team for an entire school year before he or she may test for a higher level. Tests are held each fall and the following spring. Spring is a chance for students to begin on a new team the coming fall.”

I nodded.

“No incoming students are placed on the advanced team no matter what his or her background,” Mr. Conner continued. “The riding program has added several new
instructors to teach various classes. We are not solely focused on showing. Instead, the goal is to build a strong team of horse and rider. Each grade will have to complete a course centered on horse care and equine knowledge. This is a new component required of this semester.”

I loved this—riding wasn't just for me. I wanted Whisper healthy, too.

“Each student will be quizzed periodically on materials covered,” Mr. Conner added. He reached out and stroked Whisper's neck. She swished her tail, content. “I understand that you and Whisper are relatively new partners.”

I nodded, beaming. “She's the first horse I've ever owned. I searched a long time to find her, but I'm so glad I did.”

Mr. Conner looked at us both as if searching to see if he felt our bond.

“I knew right away when I saw her.”

Mr. Conner smiled, nodding silently. As quickly as that faraway looked appeared in his face, it was gone and we were back to business. “I'd be remiss not to speak more with you about your history before the test, as your case is a special one. As I expect you've been told, I've spoken with Kim and your parents.” I nodded for him to continue. “I do not want you to feel that you're going
to be pressured to begin competing before you're ready.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that very much. Kim did tell me that it wasn't something I had to worry about. One the other hand, I do want you to know that I came here because I have hope of showing again—when you think I'm ready.”

“Excellent, Lauren. I'm glad to know what your thoughts are about going forward,” he said. “
No one
will be showing for a while, and riders, unless they are on the Youth Equestrian National Team, are allowed to decide their own show schedule.”

“Do I have to decide today?” I asked.

“No,” Mr. Conner said. “The only thing you have to do today is go through a few exercises while I take notes.”

I nodded. “Okay!” I looked down at my horse.
My horse
! Would I ever get used to saying that? “I'm ready when you are.”

“ALL RIGHT. NOW, I'D LIKE FOR YOU TO
follow some commands as I give them. Know I'm not
judging
you,” Mr. Conner said. “I'm merely deciding where you skills fit in among the other Canterwood riders in your grade. So . . . let's get started!”

I nodded. I'd showed hundreds of times, but this test really mattered to me.

“Please take Whisper along the wall, clockwise, and trot,” Mr. Conner said.

I turned Whisper away from him and asked her to trot. I posted while we kept an even distance away from the wall as we made our way around the arena.

“Sitting trot,” Mr. Conner commanded.

I sat deep in the saddle. We passed the large window
facing the outdoor arena and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of brilliant red hair as a girl on a chestnut took a jump. Whisper strained against the reins to look out the window, both ears pointed forward. I tapped my heels against her sides and urged her forward.
You threw Whisper off,
I told myself.

We lapped the arena again and, this time, Whisper didn't even try to glance outside.

“Reverse directions and canter,” Mr. Conner called.