Show Jumper (10 page)

When they got their food, Stevie grinned at Mrs. Reg. “Thanks for insisting that we eat,” she said. “I can’t believe I wanted to skip breakfast!” She dug into
her French toast and bacon and ordered a chocolate milk shake to go, insisting that she needed the energy the sugar would provide.

Lisa could barely choke down one slice of toast. She was starting to get that queer, sick feeling in her stomach again, just like the day before. An unwanted memory came into her mind; she tried to push it away but couldn’t help remembering anyway. Lisa had competed in a big horse show once before—Briarwood. She had asked Max if she could enter with Prancer, and Max had expressed reservations, saying that neither horse nor rider was ready for such a big show.

Because of Lisa’s hard work and practice, she eventually won the argument. In a way, Lisa had been ready, but her horse hadn’t been at all. Although she was a Thoroughbred with smooth gaits and a sweet disposition, Prancer also tended to be flighty and hadn’t received enough training to overcome that in a big show. The pair had done poorly; in fact, Prancer had been disqualified, and Lisa had expected an “I told you so” from Max. But he had only patted her shoulder afterward and said that all riders and horses needed experience in horse shows, good and bad. Experience was what she wanted out of this one—but only good.

Lisa was quiet as they drove to the show. But when they pulled up to the grounds, she saw the morning sunshine illuminating the show rings and the flags and banners of the show waving in the breeze. Suddenly she
felt a bit better. Yesterday all the flags, banners, and balloons had been for someone else. Today they were for her—and for Carole. Suddenly it wasn’t just the Macrae. It was a place where they were going to compete and show what they had learned, for better or for worse.

When they arrived at their horses’ stalls, Lisa was pleased to see that Samson was alert and frisky after a good night’s rest. As the girls got busy grooming their mounts for their big day, Lisa remembered her weeks of training on Samson and how easily he had taken every jump.

She began to whistle confidently. This show, she felt sure, was going to be different from Briarwood. At Briarwood she had taken a horse that wasn’t ready, but today she had the horse that was everyone’s dream.

I
N THE STABLING
area, the three girls gave Samson and Starlight a special grooming and braided their manes and the dockles of their tails. They oiled the horses’ hooves until they were shiny black. They gave the tack a last-minute polishing, although they had spent hours cleaning the equipment before loading it onto the van. As Stevie went off with Max to collect their numbers, Lisa checked over Samson—his bridle, the girth on the saddle—one more time. The junior jumping division was scheduled to begin at eleven o’clock that morning.

In the middle of Lisa’s and Carole’s preparations,
they heard someone calling their names. Turning, the two girls saw Mrs. Atwood hurrying toward them with a big smile on her face.

“Here you are!” she said when she reached them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Where else would I be?
Lisa asked in silent irritation.
Taking a nap? Doing my hair?
After all, her mother knew she was due to go on at eleven o’clock, and the stabling area was a natural place to look for riders making final preparations. But Mrs. Atwood knew so little about riding and horse shows that she had no idea what mattered and what didn’t.

As her mother gave her a big hello hug, however, Lisa’s irritation vanished. Wasn’t she about to ride a dream horse in one of the biggest horse shows of the year? Her mother couldn’t help it if she wasn’t interested in horses. Lisa knew lots of nice people who weren’t interested in horses and riding, and her mother was the nicest of them all. And besides, she was lucky that her mother was there to give her encouragement and clap for her.

She smiled at her mother. “You look like you’ve been having fun, Mom.”

“Oh, it’s been heaven!” said Mrs. Atwood. “I could go on and on about the people I’ve seen and met. The people here are so much more sophisticated than our little Willow Creek crowd. But look, honey, you’re not
even dressed in your riding outfit. Let’s go off into the van and I’ll help you put on your beautiful new red coat.”

Carole was checking the saddle on Starlight, but at Mrs. Atwood’s last words she looked up, startled, and watched Lisa and her mother disappear into the Pine Hollow van. Had she heard correctly? Obviously Mrs. Atwood had meant “pink coat.”
But surely Lisa knows better than to wear a pink coat
, she thought.
No experienced junior rider would wear a pink coat to a horse show.

Then she gaped as Lisa emerged, wearing the red coat. Lisa had a slightly sheepish smile on her face. “What do you think, Carole? It’s part of my brand-new riding outfit.”

“It’s—It’s—” stammered Carole. She looked at Lisa helplessly; then she looked at the coat. She wondered if she should mention the mistake and wondered why Lisa had agreed to buy a pink jacket. Then she noticed Mrs. Atwood’s beaming, proud face, and she knew that Mrs. Atwood had persuaded Lisa to get the coat. “It’s nice,” she said finally with a weak smile. She just couldn’t say anything in front of Lisa’s mother.

Maybe I can get Lisa alone later and have a private talk with her
, Carole thought.
But how would that help her now?
she then asked herself, frustrated. She knew that despite Lisa’s confidence in competing on a horse like Samson, she was also sensitive about her riding ability
and vulnerable to criticism. Why should Carole point out Lisa’s mistake during such a major competition? Knowing Lisa, the high standards she set for herself, and how much she worried about things like school and the Macrae, it was sure to destroy her self-confidence. Lisa would be furious at herself for making such a silly mistake and wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her riding. It wasn’t as if it was a
rule.
It was a tradition. People might be surprised, but she wouldn’t lose points or anything important.

Stevie returned with their numbers. “Here you go,” she said cheerfully. “Carole, you’re number eighty-five, and Lisa, you’re—” She stopped and stared at Lisa’s pink coat. “Hey,” she began in a surprised voice, “do you realize you’re—Ow!”

Carole had unobtrusively pinched Stevie on the arm to stop her from commenting on Lisa’s jacket, and Stevie, ever quick to grasp a situation, finished, “Uh, do you realize that you’re number forty-four? That’s, like, my favorite number! I think that my favorite, uh, football player wears number forty-four.”

“You watch football, Stevie?” Lisa asked distractedly. As the time for the jumping competition drew closer, she was starting to feel nervous again. She took the number from Stevie and began to baste it onto her jacket with needle and thread, but her hands were shaking too much. Finally Mrs. Atwood took the number from her and finished the job.

“No,” Stevie said lamely, “But I’ve got favorite players.”

As soon as she could, Carole pulled Stevie into a nearby stall. “I thought I should get you out of there before your lies got too weird,” she said.

“Thanks,” Stevie said gratefully. “I got the message to keep quiet about that pink jacket Lisa’s wearing, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.”

Carole nodded. “I know,” she said. “Lisa obviously didn’t realize what a tradition she’s breaking. There’s no official rule, but I thought everyone knew only members of hunt clubs and USET members who compete in the hunting division wear pink jackets. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, though. Someone must have convinced her to try on the jacket and Mrs. Atwood finished the job, also not knowing any better.”

“We can’t let her go out like that,” Stevie said decisively. “We have to tell her the truth.”

“No,” said Carole, shaking her head. “I’ve thought about that, and what would it accomplish? This is Lisa’s first big show since Briarwood, and we all know how bad she felt about asking Max to let her go, even though she didn’t do that horribly there. Prancer just wasn’t ready. But Lisa needs all the confidence she can get. She’s a great rider with a terrific horse, and if we pointed out the jacket mistake to her now, she’d just die of embarrassment.”

Stevie listened to Carole’s argument, nodding slowly. “You’re absolutely right,” she said. “And anyway, what does it matter? In the junior jumping division, you can wear a baby blue jacket with pink spots on it and the judges can’t fault you on it. It’s the jumping that counts.”

“Well, they might try to fault you on poor taste, but I don’t think they’d succeed,” said Carole, laughing. The two girls made a pact not to say anything to Lisa and hurried off to catch Max and warn him about the jacket.

I
N THE WARM-UP
ring, the competitors in the junior jumping division—including Margie, Belinda, and Melinda—circled their horses slowly through different maneuvers. Stevie and Max stood off to the side and called out commands to Lisa and Carole for gait changes and other moves.

Lisa, riding Samson, tried to concentrate on the serpentine across the ring, but she couldn’t help glancing at the other riders, especially Margie, Belinda, and Melinda. She noticed Margie’s horse prancing nervously. Was that the sign of an eager jumper? Then she looked at Melinda and saw how calm her horse looked. Was he just reserving his energy for the competition?

Lisa also noticed, when looking around, that a lot of riders were staring at
her.
In fact, one rider across the
ring on a dapple gray horse almost lost a stirrup because she was looking so persistently at Lisa and Samson.

Lisa looked down at Samson. Maybe they were all staring at her because her horse looked so handsome. Samson was a big, coal black horse with a well-shaped head and long legs—and today his coat shone brilliantly from the morning’s lengthy grooming. He stepped confidently and looked every inch a champion. Lisa couldn’t believe she was riding such an impressive-looking mount. She knew looks didn’t really matter—what counted was the horse’s talent and disposition—but all the same, she couldn’t help being proud of Samson’s appearance. And she knew that unlike some horses, Samson could definitely live up to his looks with his talent.

Carole also noticed the looks that other riders were giving Lisa, and, wincing, she realized that Lisa’s jacket was attracting a lot of attention. In fact, she could clearly make out a simper on Margie’s face. But thankfully, no one was saying anything, and as Carole looked over at Lisa and Samson, she felt sure that Samson’s talent would make everyone forget Lisa’s pink jacket. Well, almost forget—it was pretty hard to miss.

Samson and Starlight went through the warm-up beautifully. Lisa and Carole each felt her confidence increase as her horse responded smoothly to her aids.

As they finished warming up, Veronica appeared
with Danny, a second person who seemed to be a hired groom for Danny, and a third person who was obviously her weekend coach for the Macrae. Veronica didn’t seem to notice how late she was and appeared to be arguing with her coach about something. The Saddle Club and Max ignored her.

With Stevie at his side, Max signaled Lisa and Carole to come and gather near him. “Now, we’ve been over this before,” he began. “Today, Saturday, is the first round—the qualifying round. Only twenty riders will make the second round tomorrow. With the number of competitors in this event, that means—”

“—that we’ll have to jump two clean rounds today to make it to the second round tomorrow,” finished Carole, figuring out the odds in her head. “With so many good competitors, we’re bound to have two rounds today to come up with only twenty riders tomorrow. That means we’ll have to jump clean the first time, and to make it to tomorrow, we’ll probably have to jump clean the second time as well.”

“That’s right,” said Max. “But remember what I’ve always told you girls. Competing is not just about winning. I entered you in this show not because I wanted you to win but because I think you have a lot to gain in experience from competing in a show like this. You’ve all worked hard and made a lot of progress in your riding. Whether you advance to the second round or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that you perform to
your own personal best standards. Are we clear on this?” Lisa and Carole nodded.

“Good,” Max said. “Then I have another announcement. I just got the order of competition, and Carole, you’re up first.”

A look of apprehension passed over Carole’s face. She, better than any other rider from Pine Hollow, knew how incredibly difficult it was to go first. Riders liked to watch other riders do the course first and measure how different horses were reacting to different fences. Not only that, but going first was bad luck. Carole squared her shoulders and looked determined.

“Someone’s got to be first,” she said.

Max smiled at her. “Then let’s go walk the course and review the jumps,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER
, the announcer called out the start of the junior jumping division. Carole rode Starlight out to the ring, saluted the judges, and swung her horse into a rocking canter. They headed for the first fence.

Watching Carole, Lisa applauded in her mind. Carole and Starlight were jumping perfectly. Carole made the turns between the jumps tightly, but not so tightly as to cramp Starlight’s angle of approach to the next jump. As they neared each jump, Carole smoothly and slightly increased Starlight’s speed. Carole herself
looked relaxed and confident and completely poised in her seat and hands.

Lisa watched Carole come up to the last fence. At every jump, she had wanted to close her eyes, almost unable to bear the tension of watching one of her best friends compete. And she knew that in a few minutes, she herself would be out there, taking that big rail fence, cantering toward that vertical …

Then she realized that Carole and Starlight were finished. They had jumped clean, and loud applause broke out and continued until the next rider appeared. Carole rode back to where Lisa and Samson were waiting and pulled up next to them. She was grinning from ear to ear.