Lisa (13 page)

As we waited, Prancer fidgeted a bit, stomping her feet and looking around at all the other horses. Figuring she was a little nervous, I patted her neck to put her at ease. She nodded her head and then shook it, mussing her mane. I smoothed it quickly and soon she looked perfect again.

“This way, riders!” a woman announced, calling everybody in the ring to the gate that led to the show ring.

With her words, everything in the world faded to gray for me—everything, that is, except for myself, my horse, and the judges. I held Prancer’s reins firmly and followed the horse in front of me into the ring, visions of blue ribbons dancing in my head.

We were asked to line up in front of the judges’
stand. I did so as quickly as I could and then stared at the flag hanging from the center of the stand, not wanting to look like I didn’t know what I was doing. I faced straight forward, standing at attention. I think I sort of noticed that Prancer was tugging at the reins, but I didn’t look around at her. My eyes were focused on that flag.

I don’t know how long I stood there. I was vaguely aware that the judges were bustling around the ring, checking over the horses, asking questions, and doing I don’t know what else.

After a while, the boy standing in front of the horse next to us glanced over at me and spoke. “Uh-oh, here comes the judge,” he joked.

I didn’t laugh. I didn’t think there was anything to laugh at. I just stood a little straighter, still keeping my eyes on the flag.

The boy noticed. “Relax,” he said. “They’re looking at your horse’s conformation, not your posture.”

I hardly heard him. I gripped the reins tightly, determined not to let anything distract me. I didn’t want to take a chance of messing up somehow, of ruining Prancer’s chances of getting the blue ribbon I knew she deserved.

Suddenly I felt Prancer tug hard at the reins. I was a little worried, but I didn’t dare turn around, because a judge was approaching us.

“Hi there,” she said. She glanced at Prancer. “Your horse seems uneasy.”

“She’s fine,” I assured her, still gripping the reins tightly.

“I don’t know about that,” the woman said. “She keeps shifting around. She’s as nervous as you are.”

“Oh, I’m not nervous,” I said. It was true. I was being careful not to mess up, but so far I was sure I was doing everything exactly right. I was sure it was only a matter of minutes before that blue ribbon was fluttering from Prancer’s bridle.

The judge stepped forward. “I’m going to check out the mare’s conformation. Hold her steady, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I kept my tight grip on the reins, not daring to watch as the judge examined Prancer. I was afraid if I watched, the judge might think I wasn’t confident about our chances, so I focused my eyes on the flag once again.

I felt the reins tighten and guessed that Prancer had moved quickly away as the judge approached her. Suddenly I remembered that while Prancer loved every kid she met, she wasn’t crazy about most adults. As the thought crossed my mind, I heard a commotion behind me. I didn’t see what happened, naturally, since my eyes were still on that stupid flag. But other people told me about it later.

As the judge ran her hand along Prancer’s flank and then down the mare’s leg, Prancer finally lost it. She’d been nervous all along, but this was too much. She bucked. She simply lifted her hindquarters off the ground and kicked back. That wouldn’t have been so
bad if the judge hadn’t been crouched there by her hind legs at the time. Prancer wound up kicking the poor woman right in the rib cage.

When the judge howled in pain, it finally broke me out of my trance. I turned and saw the judge sitting on the ground holding her ribs while Prancer skittered away from her nervously. Half the people around us were staring at the judge in concern.

The other half were scowling—at
me
!

Another judge was already hurrying toward us. “Move that horse,” he told me sternly.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered when I realized what was going on. Could Prancer really have done that? Could she actually have kicked the judge, knocked her down?

“You’re excused,” the second judge said.

I was a little surprised that he had accepted my apology so easily. I felt that I should do more to help the injured judge. “Can I do something?” I offered.

“You can leave the ring,” the second judge said coldly before bending over his colleague.

At that, it felt as though all the blood in my body suddenly rushed to my face. Leave the ring? I realized that “You’re excused” didn’t mean the man had accepted my apology. It meant that I was excused from the class. I was done. Out. No blue. No ribbon at all. No chance.

If any doubt remained in my mind, what came over the public-address system a second later cleared it up
completely. “Competitor number two seventy-three has been disqualified. Lisa Atwood, please remove your horse from the ring.”

I don’t think I saw or heard anything around me for the next few minutes. All I was aware of was my own humiliation. I could hardly believe it was over almost before it had begun. But it was true. The horse show was over—for me and for Prancer.

Somehow I led Prancer out of the ring and back to her stall. My mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings. The biggest emotion was disappointment, though somehow that word doesn’t seem strong enough for what I was feeling just then. The main thought was that it couldn’t possibly be our fault. Prancer and I hadn’t done anything wrong. That judge must have done something to provoke Prancer, to make her kick like that. There was no other explanation. And now all my dreams were shattered.

The worst part was that I couldn’t even leave, rush away from the show and that horrible word
disqualified.
Mom and Dad weren’t coming until later in the day, and there was no way to reach them. I had to stay. But I didn’t have to stay where anybody could see me or talk to me. I felt completely alone, and I wanted to stay that way for a good long while. Even the thought of facing my best friends, seeing their sympathetic faces, practically made me sick to my stomach.

I wandered down the temporary aisle and then into Briarwood’s main stable building. Finding a staircase, I
climbed up into the loft and found it was empty of anything except bales of fresh, sweet-smelling hay. I sat on one bale and leaned back against another.

I tried to shut out the sounds of the horses below me and the show continuing outside, but I couldn’t. The amplifier for the public-address system was mounted just outside the upper door to the loft, and the sounds of the judges’ instructions blared at me, echoing off the wooden ceiling. I crammed my fingers into my ears, but it didn’t do any good. So I just gave up and listened.

When the amplifier went silent at last, I crawled over to the window to see what was going on. I found I had the best seat in the house. I could see the ring perfectly, but nobody looked up and saw me watching.

Fourteen horses were lined up in the ring, a rider beside each one. As they waited for the judges to reach a decision, some of the kids chatted with each other. Others patted their horses. None of them were standing at attention, which made me wonder. If nobody had really good form, would the judges actually award the blue ribbon to anybody?

But they did. They awarded it to Veronica diAngelo and her horse, Garnet! I couldn’t believe it. Garnet was a purebred Arabian, but she wasn’t anywhere near as well bred as Prancer. And how could someone as awful and undeserving as Veronica win the blue when I had worked so hard for it?

It just didn’t seem fair. A wave of jealousy washed
over me as I watched Veronica accept her ribbon. The first tear rolled down my cheek, quickly followed by others. I watched the judges award the rest of the ribbons through a blur of tears. Carole came in fourth and Stevie came in fifth.

Eventually my tears stopped, but I was still sitting there, staring blankly out the window, when the competitors entered the ring for Equitation a short while later. I watched my friends ride. They were both doing really well, but I was sure that Prancer and I could have done better. If only …

I watched that whole class and the next from my spot in the loft. Stevie ended up winning the Equitation class, while Carole took the blue in the Pleasure class. During the Pleasure class, I noticed that Stevie was having some trouble with Topside. After watching her carefully for a few minutes, I was pretty sure I’d pinpointed her problem. She was simply trying too hard. Instead of looking like riding was a pleasure, it looked like a terrible effort, and that meant that Stevie and her horse just weren’t working well together.

I wished there was some way I could get her that message. After the class ended, with Stevie coming in a distant sixth, I realized I could still help her. Maybe it was too late for the Pleasure class, but I knew Stevie. I knew when she’s unhappy, she sometimes gets so caught up in her feelings that she can’t look at things logically. I guess that’s true of anyone, but Stevie is so
super-competitive that it’s even more true of her. She really has a temper, and I was afraid it was going to cost her any chance of doing well in her last two classes.

I knew I had to talk to her. I was sure that if I explained what I’d seen, it would help her see what she was doing wrong.

I found her at Topside’s stall. She looked just as angry and upset as she had a couple of minutes earlier as she rode out of the ring. “Oh, Stevie!” I called to her.

“What do you want?” Stevie muttered coldly, hardly glancing at me.

“I saw it,” I began.

“You saw me blow it, you mean?”

“I saw you make a mistake,” I said. “That’s all it was—a mistake.”

“I blew it.” She didn’t even seem to have heard me. “I got one blue ribbon, and suddenly I think I’m the champion of the world. Well, I was kidding myself. I’m no good.”

“That’s not true!” I exclaimed, shocked that she would say such a thing even in a fit of temper. “You’re very good, and Topside is, too. You just made a mistake.”

“And you know what it was?” she challenged. “All of a sudden you’re an expert?”

“I didn’t say that,” I said. “I just said I knew what you did wrong.”

“Maybe, but don’t bother to tell me. It won’t make any difference. The judges aren’t going to change their minds.”

“Maybe not for this class, but you can do better in the next one,” I reminded her.

“You think I’m going to go out there again, after that experience?” she snorted. “I go from a blue ribbon to sixth place, and then I’m going to go for it again?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Stevie never gave up when she wanted something. And I knew she wanted to do well today. “Of course!” I exclaimed. “You have to!”

“Says who?” she said sharply.

I could tell she was just upset enough that she was looking to pick a fight. But I wasn’t about to get distracted. I love Stevie too much to let her make a mistake like the one she was about to make. “Just because you messed up in one class doesn’t mean you can just quit,” I told her firmly. “The trouble was you were trying too hard. You completely forgot to have fun—”

“It wasn’t fun,” Stevie interrupted icily.

“Maybe not,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t make it
look
like it’s fun. You’re good at pretending, Stevie, and I just know that when you get into the next class, you’ll remember to relax, and then you will have fun. The next class is the Trail class. You love trail riding. All you have to do is pretend you’re in the woods behind Pine Hollow and you’ll do great.”

Stevie hesitated, her expression wavering between
annoyed and thoughtful. “You mean it, don’t you?” she said at last. “You really think I can do better?”

I nodded. “I honestly do.”

Stevie looked over at her horse. “What about you, Topside? Think we can improve from sixth place this time?”

Topside sort of bobbed his head a little. I’m sure Max would think we were crazy, but both Stevie and I would have sworn it was a nod. After all, Topside
is
a very smart horse.

“All right, I’ll take your advice,” Stevie said, looking calmer already. “I’ll try again. I won’t quit. On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“That you take your own advice.”

She hurried away, mumbling something about saddle soap, before I could ask her what she meant by that. I honestly had no idea. I hadn’t quit—I’d been disqualified. It wasn’t my fault.

Before I could think too much about Stevie’s words, though, I saw my mother approaching. Having her there reminded me afresh of my awful, terrible, unbelievable morning. Ever since the judge had excused me, I’d wanted nothing more than to have my mother there. There’s something about a mother at times like that—there’s just no replacement. I knew I could count on Mom to take my side, to understand that the judge had made a horrible mistake, to comfort me and make it all better.

As I rushed forward to hug her, the tears started again. When I could speak, I led her to a quiet spot, away from the bustling crowds that had descended on the stable during the half-hour break between the last class and the next. Then I told her the whole story. When I described what the judge had been doing just before Prancer bucked, Mom looked shocked.

“The judge ran her hand down the horse’s leg? Well, no wonder the horse bucked! What right did the judge have to do that? She must have had it in for you. There certainly is no excuse to send you out of the ring for something your horse did, and it’s clear that the judge did something very improper.”

“It wasn’t really improper, Mom,” I said. “The judges do that to all the horses. It’s a way of checking the horse’s conformation and making sure she’s in good condition.”

“It is? But it must be very annoying to the horse.”

“She did it to all the other horses,” I said. “None of them seemed to mind it.”

“Well, she must have done it wrong to your beautiful horse,” Mom said firmly. “Otherwise just give me one good reason why your horse would have hurt her.”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Prancer has always been a little odd and unreliable around adults. We don’t know why; it’s just a character trait of hers. If the judge had been a young person, maybe Prancer would have been okay.”