Victory and the All-Stars Academy (8 page)

Issie had seen Dee Dee leave halfway through the DVD and was hoping that she might be asleep already. But Dee Dee wasn't even in bed yet.

Dee Dee had been a slob since she arrived, but the present state of their room was worse than ridiculous.
There were piles of magazines spread all over the floor, old bowls of half-eaten muesli sat on the windowsill and bottles of various beauty creams and make-up were strewn over the dressing table. The mounds of dirty clothes now spread right across the room and a pair of filthy old riding boots had been plonked next to Issie's bed.

“These boots aren't mine!” Issie picked up the grubby boots and glared at Dee Dee.

“No,” Dee Dee said. “They're mine.”

“Then why are they on my side of the room?”

Dee Dee shrugged at this and didn't answer. She sat down cross-legged on her bed with her mirror and began her nightly ritual of smearing on skin creams and plucking her eyebrows. Then she got out the toenail clippers.

“Can you stop doing that?” Issie snapped. “It's gross!”

“It's called a beauty regime!” Dee Dee shot back. “And I don't see how it's bothering you anyway.”

Issie picked up a teen magazine, a half-used tube of hair gel and a pair of knickers and tossed them across the room at Dee Dee's bed.

“Just keep your mess on your side, OK?”

“Fine!” Dee Dee snapped back. “If you keep your things on your side.” She picked up a hairbrush that Issie recognised as hers and threw it back at Issie's bed.

“Hey! I didn't leave that on your side of the room. You took it!” Issie said, snatching the hairbrush up off the bed. “Stop using all my stuff.” She eyed Dee Dee suspiciously. “Are you wearing my cardigan?”

Dee Dee looked guilty as she stripped it off and threw it back at Issie. “I just borrowed it because I was cold. You left it lying around…” she began. Issie held the cardigan up in front of her. There was a huge blob of something on it. Was it strawberry jam? Dee Dee had got jam down the front of her cardy!

“That stain will come straight out,” Dee Dee insisted.

But Issie wasn't listening any more. She stormed out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen, hunting through the drawers. A moment later she found what she was looking for and returned to the bedroom. In her hand she held a roll of masking tape. She walked to the end of the room, measuring it up with her eyes. Then she got down on her hands and knees and began to stick the tape along the carpet tiles.

“What are you doing?” Dee Dee asked.

“Marking out my half of the bedroom,” said Issie. She ran the tape smoothly all the way to the bedroom door and then ripped off the end, pressing the strip down firmly on the carpet tiles, before standing up again to face Dee Dee.

“The room on that side of the tape is your half,” she said. “This is my half. You keep all your stuff on your side from now on. You don't ever come over my side and I won't come over yours.”

“You're kidding me?” Dee Dee said.

“Do I look like I'm joking?” Issie shot back.

Dee Dee walked right up to the line, but she didn't cross it. “Fine! Have it your way,” she said.

She flounced over to the dressing table and picked up the toothbrush and toothpaste. “I'm going to the bathroom and then I'm going to bed! Lights out at ten-thirty!”

“Suits me!” Issie yelled after her as Dee Dee marched out of the room.

Dee Dee was already halfway down the hall when Issie realised that, once again, Dee Dee was using her toothbrush.

Issie crouched down by Victory's shoulder and began to wind the bandage around the horse's cannon bone, taking care to make it firm but not too tight. Satisfied with her efforts, she knotted off the end of the bandage and tucked it away neatly, then began on the next leg.

When she had finished, she stood back to admire her work. She had used white bandages and gamgee, and they stood out against Victory's dark brown coat, making him look like he had four white socks.

She had already tacked him up with his jumping saddle, which was made in two-tone shades of tan leather, and she had swapped the reins on his bridle,
taking off the sleek leather ones that she used for dressage and buckling on webbing reins instead, for extra grip.

Issie was dressed differently today too. She wore her back protector, which stood out stiffly from her torso, like black body armour. She was wearing her jumping hard hat, sticky-bum jodhpurs and webbing gloves that gave her a good grip on the reins even if they got sweaty.

The change in her outfit and her horse's tack signalled that the dressage phase of their training was over. Today the horses and riders had to be dressed ready for impact—it was time for showjumping.

In the arena where they had practised their dressage to music the day before, a showjumping course had now been set up. The fences were a fair size—most of the jumps measured a metre-ten in height—coloured rails laid out in oxers, doubles, hog's backs and spreads.

Even though the fences weren't any bigger than Issie had jumped before, she felt her stomach knot with nerves as she rode into the ring. If she had been riding Comet around this course, she wouldn't have
had any reason to feel nervous. She knew exactly how to get the best out of Comet, how to control his speed and channel his energy over the fences. But her partnership with Victory was untested. She had no idea what the brown horse would be like in the showjumping ring.

At least Issie already knew Araminta. She'd had lessons from her before at Chevalier Point, and even though Morgan's mum was hardly a pussycat, she might be the soft option compared to Minka and Tara.

Araminta looked amazing, as always, when she entered the arena. Dressed today in banana-cream jodhpurs and a mint green shirt, with a gold Hermès scarf tied tight over her raven hair, she had an air of careless glamour. Issie noticed that she was wearing a headset with a microphone mouthpiece, the same as Minka had worn, to amplify her voice so that she wouldn't have to shout at the riders.

Araminta asked the sixteen squad members to come into the centre of the ring for gear inspection. She didn't spend long checking their tack. Her only changes were to make Charlotte take off her running martingale—she thought they were old-fashioned and
unnecessary—and to ask Jace to take his stirrups up another two holes.

“Right. I'd like you all to give your horses a warm-up before we get started,” Araminta instructed. “Find yourself some free space and work your horse in. Don't overcook them—just give them some trot and canter work on both reins and get them supple and on the bit and listening to your legs and hands.”

Issie remembered how she had tried to avoid Dee Dee in the arena the first day when she was warming up. Now, as the riders all trotted around the arena to find themselves a space, it was Dee Dee who was avoiding Issie. The minute she saw Issie and Victory, Dee Dee abruptly turned Floyd around, riding off in the opposite direction.

After last night, when Issie put the masking tape line down the middle of the bedroom, the girls were no longer talking. Issie felt miserable about it, and she desperately wanted to talk to her friends about what had happened. But Kate was so busy. She was taking her role as team captain really seriously, watching the other riders and trying to figure out their strengths and their weaknesses for the competition. As for
Stella, she had no time for anyone except Shane. She was with him right now at the far end of the arena, giggling as he whispered something in her ear.

“Excuse me? Stella! Shane!” Araminta called across the arena. “I'm not breaking up a special moment, am I?” she said sarcastically. “I believe I told you to warm up your horses, not sit there being lovey-dovey!”

Stella turned pink with embarrassment as everyone turned to look at them, but Shane just gave Araminta a cheeky grin. “It's OK. My horse doesn't need much warming up.”

“Is that so, Mr Campbell?” Araminta said archly. “Well, you can be the first through our showjumping course today then. In fact, why don't we have all the Australian riders through after you?” She looked coolly at him. “You've got five minutes to get your horse collected and then I want you in the ring.”

Issie knew that nobody wants to be the first to go around a showjumping course. The first rider is always at a disadvantage because they don't know how the course will ride. Meanwhile, the other riders have a chance to watch and learn from their mistakes. When Shane rode into the ring to begin his round, the other
squad riders stopped warming up and went to the sidelines to watch him.

Araminta had constructed a jumping course that had lots of corners and turns. “Watch your striding too,” she warned the riders. “The fences are set up intentionally with odd stridings to test your skills. You see that double? You'll need to decide whether you do two very long canter strides between the two jumps or three very short, bouncy strides.”

Shane was cantering around the jumps as Araminta spoke, ready and waiting for her signal to begin. His horse, a bright bay, sixteen hands high with four white socks and a white blaze, was pulling anxiously at the reins.

“She's a Selle Français,” Stella told Issie. “Her name is Bendigo Queen. Shane's had her for two years. Isn't she gorgeous?”

Issie nodded in agreement, watching as Araminta gave him the nod and Shane cantered Bendigo Queen forward to the first fence. The pair took it with surgical precision, and Issie noted that Shane's position in the saddle was totally flawless and in balance the whole time.

Bendigo Queen landed on the other side and
fought to get her head before the next fence, but Shane took control with a firm pull of his hands on the reins and the horse obeyed. They took a sharp turn for the next fence, then pushed on to do two huge strides in the double. Then Shane collected the mare up neatly on the other side and did a very sharp turn and two very short strides to make it over the spread. Bendigo Queen tucked her feet tidily over the next three fences and then they were through the flags and home. A completely faultless clear round.

Sitting next to Issie, Kate let out a long, low whistle. “That was one of the most professional showjumping rounds I've ever seen,” she said.

“I know,” Issie agreed. “He's got this amazing position. He barely moves as he goes over the fences.”

Stella beamed. “That's my boyfriend!”

“Yeah,” said Morgan darkly. “And he's also our competition!”

Six of the eight Australian riders managed to get totally clear rounds on their first try. The other two only chalked up eight faults each, and by the time they were done, Issie and the others realised exactly what they were up against.

“They're all brilliant!” Kate said miserably.

“OK, so they're pretty good…” Issie admitted.

“Good?” Kate groaned. “Were you watching how they rode out there? They're totally slick, technically flawless. How are we going to beat them at the competition next weekend?”

“It's just a friendly contest, right?” Stella offered cheerfully.

“Some of us are making it a bit too friendly,” said Morgan grumpily.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Stella snapped back.

“I mean, stop talking about your boyfriend and focus on your riding. We've come all this way and I want to win.”

“I am totally focused,” Stella said.

“We all need to be focused,” agreed Kate. “The Australians are good—if we want to win the competition then we're going to have to be even better.”

The New Zealand riders all delivered solid, if unspectacular, showjumping rounds that day. When Issie rode into the ring to take her turn, she felt
nervous about riding Victory over jumps for the very first time. She needn't have worried though. The Thoroughbred gelding once again proved his experience and schooling by behaving perfectly in the ring and responding precisely to all her cues.

Issie used the lessons she had learnt from the few mistakes that the Australians made. She didn't cut the corner too tight on fence number three and she took the same stridings that she had seen Shane choose—a long two-stride between the fences at the double, then tightening up the striding again for the fences straight after that. Victory never fought her once and they went clear without a mishap.

“Neat round,” Araminta said to her. “He's going very well for you.”

The riders did some grid work after that, popping the horses through some combinations while Araminta gave them advice on their positions. The morning lesson seemed to pass extremely quickly and, before they knew it, Araminta was telling them to unsaddle for lunch.

Issie, Kate and Charlotte wolfed down their sandwiches almost before the others had sat down and
then excused themselves so that they could smuggle their hidden scraps back to the stables to feed to Wombat. The puppy was overjoyed to see them and leapt up at the door of the stall as they opened it. They had to squeeze in carefully so he wouldn't escape.

“I can't believe no one has found him yet,” Kate admitted. “I could actually hear him yelping when we were in the showjumping ring today, and I was sure that Araminta was going to hear it too.”

“She probably couldn't hear him because she had her headset on,” Charlotte said.

“I don't think we can keep him here for much longer,” said Kate. “He's got his strength back now. Did you see the way he jumped up at the door just now? He's like a jack-in-the-box! We can't keep him here forever.”

Issie stroked the blue heeler's silky ears and looked at the sweet expression on his puppy face. His mouth was permanently open in a cheeky grin and he had cunning eyes that darted from girl to girl as they spoke, as if he knew exactly what they were all talking about. He looked at Issie now with a plaintive expression, cocking his head to one side, his eyes fixed on her.

“We'll figure something out, Wombat,” Issie said softly. But really, she was thinking the same thing as the other girls. At the end of next week it was the competition, and after that they would be leaving Havenfields and going home. Who would take care of Wombat then?

Thursday's showjumping clinic did nothing to dispel the girls' fears that the Australian team was too good to beat. Araminta's lesson focused on speed, since racing to beat the clock would be such a big part of the Young Rider Challenge, and once again, the Australians seemed to have the advantage, tearing around the arena at breakneck pace and still managing to get clear rounds each time.

Most of the riders were excited at the prospect of starting their cross-country training the next day, but Issie was feeling more than a little daunted by the reappearance of Tara. “The return of She Who Must Not Be Named,” Issie grumbled as she sat at the breakfast table on Friday morning with Stella and Kate.

“Tara's not that bad,” Kate said, sticking up for her. However, even Kate got grumpy when Tara assembled the riders on the verandah and broke the news that their first cross-country lesson would be on foot.

“You can all get changed out of your back protectors and put on your gumboots. You won't be riding this morning. You'll be walking.”

An audible groan rose up from the riders, but Tara was quick to set them straight for doubting her methods.

“If you want to be a good cross-country rider then it is essential that you learn everything you can about walking a cross-country course,” she told them. “There are a million decisions to make when you're riding cross-country—and most of them can be made before you even mount up. You need to learn to walk the course and plan everything exactly, so that when the time comes to ride, there are no surprises.”

As the riders set out through the long grass of the paddocks where the jumps were dotted about, Issie found out that the big difference between walking a cross-country course here at Havenfields and walking one back home was that in Australia you needed to be on the lookout for snakes.

There was a spooky moment that day when she saw something long and brown lying in the long grass ahead of her, but it turned out to be a stick! Issie tried hard to put snake fears aside and focus on listening to Tara. It became evident, as Tara talked them through from jump to jump, exactly how this woman had won the Lexington Horse Trials an incredible four times.

Issie had walked cross-country courses with instructors lots of times before, but it was different with Tara. She talked with such insight, as if she were seeing each fence through the horse's eyes. She explained every detail, telling the riders exactly when to slow down and rebalance their horses, what approach and line to take at the jumps and how to react to each fence.

At the water jump Tara told them about the feeling the horse would get as its front legs struck the water for the first time.

“Imagine that you've been running and then suddenly your legs are stuck in treacle,” Tara said. “That's how it is for the horse when it hits the water. Water is thicker than air and that means that everything changes, their speed and their stride. You must dig in
your knees at that moment of impact with the water or you will be thrown forward. Then it's up to you to urge them on and over the jump to get out again.”

Issie listened intently. The other riders asked loads of questions, but she stayed silent, taking it all in, absorbing everything that this world-famous rider had to say.

It wasn't until they were walking back home again down the dirt road, having covered the whole course, that Issie finally spoke to Tara. Or, to be more accurate, Tara spoke to her.