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Authors: Jessica Burkhart

BOOK: Home Sweet Drama
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I kissed his muzzle and he nudged my shoulder. He stepped back and I unlatched his stall door. I grabbed his halter and led him out of his stall and to a pair of crossties. I clipped them on and opened his trunk to grab his tack box.

“Let's get you sparkling and then we'll go to our lesson,” I said.

Charm bobbed his head, moving the crossties up and down.

His coat wasn't dirty since he hadn't been outside, so I picked up a body brush and flicked it over his neck, back, and hindquarters.

I took his saddle pad from on top of his trunk and placed it over his back, smoothing out any wrinkles. I hoisted the saddle into the air and put it on top of the saddle pad, then tightened the girth.

Charm stood still as I unclipped the crossties and let them drop to the ground. I put the reins over his head and adjusted his bridle in my hands. He opened his mouth when I placed the snaffle bit between his lips and pulled the crownpiece over his ears. After I buckled his bridle, I picked up my helmet and fastened it.

“Ready?” I asked him. Together, we walked down the aisle to the outdoor arena. Mr. Conner had sent Heather and me an e-mail this afternoon and had told us to meet him outside. I mounted Charm just before he walked through the entrance. We warmed up along the rail and Heather and Aristocrat joined us minutes later.

Heather rode Aristocrat next to me and shook her
head. “I'd rather ride without stirrups for the rest of my life than attend another pep rally,” she said.

“Me too. And we both know how much we hate that.”

We both sighed and let our horses into trots. We warmed them up until Mr. Conner came, and then we halted them in front of him.

“Hi, Heather,” Mr. Conner said, nodding at her. “Sasha.” He looked at me. “I want to work on flatwork today, so why don't you move your horses out to the rail at a sitting trot and we'll get started.”

Charm's trot was smooth as we moved to the wall and I had no trouble not bouncing in the saddle. We made a couple of laps around the arena before Mr. Conner signaled to us to canter. I squeezed my knees against Charm's sides and he jumped forward. I remembered how Mr. Conner had praised Heather for not letting Charm rush, so I pulled him back to a trot. I made him do another lap at the slower pace before I gave him the signal to canter. This time, he moved smoothly from one gait to the next.

“Nice decision, Sasha,” Mr. Conner said. “Smart to pull him back and then ask him to canter. I was hoping you'd do just that.”

I hid my smile. Compliments from Mr. Conner were rare and I was glad he'd noticed that I'd made the decision
to slow Charm, even if it meant not keeping pace with Heather and Aristocrat.

“Cross over the center and reverse directions, please,” Mr. Conner called.

Charm and I followed Heather and Aristocrat across the center of the arena and started cantering in the opposite direction. Charm seemed to pay more attention to me than he had before I'd stopped him. He kept one ear back in my direction, listening for any cues.

“Good boy,” I said.

“Sasha,” Mr. Conner called. “Try not to talk to Charm so much.”

I closed my mouth and nodded.

We trotted for a few more minutes before Mr. Conner held up his hand. “I want you head to the other end of the arena and you'll take turns cantering your horses through the poles. They're spaced far enough apart that you can do a medium canter and be safe.”

Heather and I let Charm and Aristocrat walk to the opposite end of the arena. Charm stretched his neck as he walked and huffed. Maybe he wished I rode Western instead of English—he definitely loved it when we did Western-style exercises and I could see him winning pole-bending competitions.

“You can go first,” Heather said, nodding at the course.

“Thanks,” I said.

Heather stopped Aristocrat away from the beginning of the course and I circled Charm at a trot, then a canter.

“Don't let him rush,” Mr. Conner said.

I tightened my fingers around the reins. “I won't.”

I let Charm out of the circle and headed for the first pole. He yanked his head forward and tried to pull the reins through my fingers. He was getting too excited before we even started. I pushed my weight into the saddle with my seat and heels, trying to slow him.

Charm reacted to my movement and eased to a slower canter. I started to say, “Good job,” but remembered Mr. Conner's words from earlier. I'd reward Charm after our lesson if he kept doing well.

He cantered to the pole until it felt that he was going to slam into it before I shifted my weight to the side and tugged on the right rein. In an instant, Charm shifted to the side. His canter stayed smooth as he bent around the pole and we were so close to it that my boot almost brushed against the plastic.

Charm swerved in the next direction, barely needing me to tell him what to do. He saw the poles and he just went for it.
But you still need to keep control of him,
I thought.
If I didn't, his well-paced canter would turn into a gallop and it could get dangerous.

Charm dashed through the six poles and I kept myself balanced in the saddle and made sure I didn't tip or tilt as he changed direction. He curved around the final pole and I let him canter four strides toward the end of the arena before slowing him to a trot, then a walk. I patted his neck and turned him back to face Heather and Mr. Conner.

“Nice work, Sasha,” Mr. Conner said, nodding at me. “You knew Charm would have a tendency to dash through the poles, but you kept control of him. He looked supple as he moved through the poles.”

“Thank you,” I said. I stopped Charm next to Aristocrat and the horses didn't look away from each other—they stood and awaited instruction.

Mr. Conner flipped to a clean sheet of paper in his notebook and motioned to Heather.

“Heather, you may go when you're ready,” Mr. Conner said.

Heather pushed down her heels and settled into the saddle. It was all too easy to fall off to the side if a rider wasn't prepared for pole bending. I thought back to the first time I'd tried it at my old stable. Charm, still very green, had rushed through the course and I hadn't been
prepared when we'd taken the first pole. Charm had leaned so far over that I'd tipped off to the side, tumbled out of the saddle and bruised my shoulder.

Heather led Aristocrat into a trot, then a canter. The chestnut's tail streamed out behind him as he cantered and he looked sleek enough to skim around all of the poles. Heather's plum-colored shirt flashed as Aristocrat's body curved around the first pole and they reached the second pole faster than Charm and I had. They darted back and forth through the poles and I couldn't help but be impressed with how fast they completed the course. Not only were they seconds faster than Charm and me, but Heather also got Aristocrat closer to each pole.

“Nice,” I said as Heather pulled Aristocrat up beside Charm and me.

Heather cocked her head. “I think that was better than ‘nice.'”

Mr. Conner scribbled something on his chart and walked over to us.

“Well done, Heather,” he said. “Aristocrat's agility is in his build, but it's also from the hard work you've put into getting him there. I'm impressed with how close you came to each pole without touching it. Excellent job.”

“Thanks,” Heather said.

Mr. Conner looked at both of us. “Let's amp up the difficulty of the lesson.”

Heather and I glanced at each other.

“Drop your stirrups and cross them over your saddle,” Mr. Conner said. “I want you to do the exercise again at a slow canter.”

That
was going to be a little more difficult. Heather and I kicked our feet out of the stirrups and crossed them.

Mr. Conner nodded to me and I let Charm into a slow canter. I gripped with my knees and wrapped my fingers around Charm's mane to help keep my balance. I held Charm at an easy canter and he listened. He moved around the first pole and I shifted to stay in the saddle. Charm kept an even pace and didn't rush between the poles. I stayed focused on keeping my balance and moving Charm through the course. I fought back a smile when we finished and turned to face Heather and Mr. Conner.

Heather completed the course and her second ride was almost better than her first. She rode the course in a way that almost made me want to take notes.

“Heather,” Mr. Conner said. “You made it appear as if you were riding
with
stirrups. Your balance is superb and you sit tight in the saddle without gripping Aristocrat too hard.”

“Thank you,” Heather said.

Everything he'd said to her was true—it really had been a great ride.

“That was an excellent lesson, girls,” Mr. Conner said. “Take good care of your horses and see you next class.” Heather and I dismounted and started walking the horses side by side.

“So I heard Jasmine is back at Wellington,” Heather said after Mr. Conner was out of the arena.

“You did?” I asked. “How?”

Heather shook her head. “Do you not know me at all? I have connections—duh.”

“How'd she get back in? Is she riding? Did she get in trouble there?”

“God, Silver,” Heather said. “I didn't say I had
every
little detail. I just know she's back at Wellington and riding. That's it.”

“Grrreat,” I muttered. “Exactly what we need. She hates us and she's riding again. How did she get back on the riding team after she got expelled from Canterwood?”

“Who cares how she did it—it just matters that she did. We can't ease up even for one lesson.”

“We'll definitely see her at shows—you know it.” I sighed.

But Heather grinned. “I'm counting on it.”

20

KNIGHTS VS.PANTHERS

LATER IN THE DAY, I WALKED TO A PART OF campus I
never
visited—the football field. Almost everyone was wearing a green and gold jersey or something in school colors. I'd put on a green T-shirt and jeans. That was as far as I was willing to go. My brain had worked through every possible excuse to get out of coming to the game, but because I was a—gag—
nominee
, I had to go.

And not just go. But sit in a special section with other people who'd been nominated. Callie. Jacob. Eric. Me. Paige. Heather. Nicole. Troy. Ben. Ryan.

As the eighth-grade nominees, we'd all have to sit in the same section.

I had to force myself to keep walking toward the field. I'd promised Paige to meet her and Ryan near the
entrance. The closer I got, the louder things were. I was almost overwhelmed by the noise and volume of people on campus.

I reached the entrance to the football field and looked around for Paige and Ryan. There were so many people, I wondered if I'd have to text her to find her. Then, I saw her.

“Paige,” I called.

She turned and her eyes scanned the crowed. I waved and she saw me. She smiled and waved back. Her other hand held Ryan's.

“You look so great,” I said. Paige looked supercute in a tight-fitting Canterwood football jersey, skinny jeans, and flip-flops. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she'd curled the ends—very cheerleader-esque.

“Thanks!” Paige turned her cheek to me and pointed. “Like it?”

I couldn't help but smile. She had CCA painted in green on her cheek in the school's font.

“Love,” I said.

“She tried to get me to have my face painted,” Ryan said, grinning. “But I passed.”

“Understandable,” I said. “But Paige can be
very
persuasive, so watch out. You might walk out of here tonight with face paint.”

Paige and Ryan both smiled.

“Let's grab food and then find our seats,” Paige said. “Okay?”

Ryan and I nodded.

I followed them and couldn't help but be just a tiny bit excited. Paige's enthusiasm was infectious tonight and if I was careful, I could probably avoid Callie, Jacob, and Eric and just hang with Paige, Ryan, Heather, and the rest of the nominees tonight. Besides, it was a football game. No one talked much during those things, right?

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