Rival Revenge (16 page)

“Whatever. God, I'm so sick of everyone judging me. Even Mr. Conner. No one gets it.”

“Mr. Conner?”

I wanted to slap my hand over my mouth. But then I really thought about it—Heather would probably respect the fact that I'd ridden when I wasn't supposed to. She understood hard-core practicing.

“I went to ride this morning, just for a couple of hours, and Mr. Conner caught me.”

Now I had Heather's full attention. She turned completely around in her seat and stared at me. “You did not.”

“I did. He called me into his office, told me I shouldn't have been riding and that I really needed to slow down. It was weird—usually he's all about practicing hard. But this time he wasn't. He was furious.”

Heather gave me a look like I was the dumbest person she'd ever seen. “Because you
fainted.
I always knew something was wrong with you—but I never thought you'd be so lame that you'd ride when you knew you shouldn't.”

I shook my head. “But I had to. I can't miss a day of practice right now. You get that. Don't act like you don't.”

“But you love Charm,” Heather said. “I guess that's why I'm so surprised. You could have fainted again and he could have been hurt or something.”

“I knew I wasn't going to faint,” I snapped. “Don't make it sound like I risked my horse on purpose. If I'd even thought I'd faint today, I wouldn't have ridden.”

“Okay, okay,” Heather said, raising both hands. “But one day off from riding wouldn't kill you.”

“Easy for you to say. You and Jasmine have been riding at the best stables since you started. You've had the expensive trainers and you've competed at the top circuits. I haven't.” I paused for a second. “You could take
weeks
off from riding and you'd be fine. But I'm not there yet. I've got to practice as much as I can for that tape. It makes me nervous to miss even one day.”

Before Heather could reply, Jacob walked past me. He walked over and sat a couple of seats away from me. Heather looked at me for a second, then turned back to face the stage. I caught Jacob looking at me, almost as if he wanted to ask why I was in class, but he didn't. Like Eric, he had no responsibility for me.

Ms. Scott walked to the front of the stage and shuffled through a stack of papers in her hand. I looked down at my lap and took a breath.

“Everyone, turn to page forty-five in your textbook and we'll take turns reading aloud the chapter,” Ms. Scott said.

We all got out our books. Ms. Scott called on a guy in the front row and he began reading about the Globe Theater. He read a few paragraphs before Ms. Scott stopped him.

“What interested you about what you read?” Ms. Scott asked him.

“I've heard of the theater, but I didn't know it burned down,” the guy said.

Ms. Scott nodded. “It's sad that the theater was rebuilt only to be shut down by Puritans years later.”

“It's like book banning,” a girl in the front row said. “It makes me so mad.”

We spent the rest of the period talking about censorship and how it was still present today like it was during Shakespeare's time. I loved the discussion and Ms. Scott never stopped any of us from saying what we felt. Her class was like Mr. Ramirez's had been last year—I wished it was longer.

After class, I gathered my bag and got ready to leave. Jacob and I hadn't looked at each other once and Heather hadn't said a word to me. I'd focused on class.

I left the theater and walked up the stairs. I passed the ticket counter, but Heather eventually caught up with me and fell into step beside me.

“You really should consider seeing a shrink or going on some kind of medication,” Heather said.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“You're
ridiculous
. Stop going on and on about how you're not a ‘real' rider, or whatever, like Jasmine and me. Yeah, we have more experience—get over it. And without a doubt,
I'm
definitely better than you. But you're not a complete loser rider or you wouldn't have made the YENT.”

I just stared at Heather, not knowing what to say.

“You and Charm are a great team,” Heather said. “So stop talking so much trash about yourself.” She grinned. “You've got enough people, like me, who are more than happy to do that for you.”

I couldn't help but smile. We sighed simultaneously and walked away from each other.

MINT MASKS AND
CITY GIRLS

WHEN I GOT BACK TO MY ROOM, PAIGE WAS
sitting on her bed cross-legged, reading a magazine. She looked at me and frowned.

“Where were you?” she asked. “I thought you were going to stay in all day.”

“I just went to theater class,” I said. “It was an easy class and I was feeling good before it started.”

“But you were supposed to take the entire day off,” Paige said. “Did Ms. Scott say anything to you about being there?”

“Nope. She either didn't know I wasn't supposed to be there or she just let me stay. She would have made me leave if she thought I was sick or something.”

Paige shrugged. “I guess. I just hope you got enough rest to get back to classes and everything tomorrow.”

“I'm okay,” I said. “Really. I feel great and totally ready for tomorrow.”

I knew better than to tell Paige about riding this morning. I didn't think she'd hear about it from anyone, but if she did—I'd tell her then. I didn't want to unless I had to—she'd freak if she found out.

“So, it's Friday night,” I said. “We
have
to do something. Any ideas?”

Paige looked up at the ceiling for a second. “I think we should stay in for sure. Want to finish half of our homework so there's not so much? I picked up all of your assignments.”

“Yeah, let's definitely do that,” I said. “Then we won't have to worry about getting all of it done at once.”

Paige nodded. “Perfect.”

“How about a homework incentive?” I asked. “If we stay focused and get half of our homework done, let's give ourselves manis, pedis, and facials tonight.”

Even though I'd done my nails a couple of nights ago with the Trio, the polish had already chipped from being in the stable.

“Love it,” Paige said. “I'm starting
right
now.”

We smiled at each other and Paige picked up a few pages from her desk. “These are your assignments,” she said.

“Thanks.”

I took them from her and went to my desk. We both wanted to get finished, so we had to sit away from each other or we'd start talking and gossiping.

I opened my math book and started the problems Utz had assigned. It didn't take long for me to get through all twenty-five. The new graphing calculator Dad had insisted that I get before school started—even though it was, like, the size of a laptop—made things so much faster.

There was only one chapter to read for history class and I took notes while I read. I turned in my chair, peeking over at Paige, who was leaning over her desk, scribbling furiously.

An hour later, I closed my notebook for Mr. Davidson's English class. I spun my chair and looked at Paige. “Half done!”

“We're in crazy synch,” Paige said. “'Cause I'm finishing the last answer for my science class and then I can quit too.”

While Paige finished, I gathered my books and papers and shoved my notebooks into my book bag.

“And … done too!” Paige said.

I high-fived Paige. “Rocked the homework,” I said.

“And now we get to have fun. I think we should do
those mint facials that we got last week and while they dry, we do our nails.”

“Yes! Let's go all out—hot washcloths to open our pores, a scrub, and then we apply the mask.”

“Love. Done.”

Paige and I put on our cozy terry cloth robes and pulled our hair into ponytails.

“Let's wrap our hair up with towels, just like at a real spa, so we won't get face mask in our hair,” I suggested.

Paige grabbed two towels and we swept up our hair. We ran water until it was as hot as we could get it, filled the sink, saturated the washcloths, and wrung them out.

I put mine on my face and sighed happily as the heat warmed my face. After a couple of minutes, my cloth started to cool. I pulled it off and Paige did the same. We looked in the mirror at the same time. Our faces were Bazooka bubble-gum pink.

“That felt
so
good,” Paige said. “Now for the scrub.”

We passed the tube of apricot scrub between us and started rubbing it into our faces in small circles. I felt skin slough off, and the sweet scent of apricot was as relaxing as the steaming hot towel had been.

“Rinse time,” I said. We took turns washing the scrub off our faces.

“My face feels
so
soft,” Paige said. She ran her finger over her cheekbone. “And now we apply the masks.”

Paige picked up a tube of a minty face mask and squeezed some into my palm. I dabbed my fingers into the creamy mixture and spread it over my cheeks, forehead, chin, and nose.

I looked over at Paige and she'd painted giant green circles on her cheeks like a clown. I grinned.

“Don't smirk at me,” Paige said. “You're the one who looks like she's ready for Halloween.”

“Only my fave holiday,” I said. “I mean, I love Christmas, but Halloween's the best.”

Paige nodded. “I love it too. But Fourth of July's my favorite. Fireworks. Hot dogs. Cotton candy.”

I made a face, causing my now-drying mask to crinkle. “
Your
mom let you get hot dogs and cotton candy? Wouldn't she take you to some Manhattan party for fancy food?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “She does.
Every
year. But my cousin visits from DC and she sneaks out of the party with me and we get all of the real Fourth of July food from street carts. It's amazing. One year, I'm going to find a way to convince my parents to let me go to Coney Island to see the Fourth of July hot dog eating contest. It's supposed to be
insane.
”

I smiled. “We could have our own contest when I stay with you during fall break,” I said. “And we can eat tons of food from different vendors.”

Paige nodded. “We'll get
every
kind of food—I know the best cart that serves Indian food that you'll love.”

“I've never had Indian food before. I can't wait.”

And I couldn't. Maybe break with Paige wouldn't be so bad. She hadn't asked one question about what had happened over the weekend. She finally got that I didn't want to talk about it, and things were starting to feel like our old friendship.

“You know who else lives in New York,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Someone we'll definitely
not
run into if we sneak off to Coney Island.”

“Who?” Paige asked.

“Heather. I don't remember what part of the city she lives in, but I'm sure it's somewhere fancy.”

“NYC is so huge that we have
zero
chance of running into her,” Paige said. “So don't even worry.”

We grabbed our container of nail polishes and sat in the middle of the room. Our collection had grown considerably over the summer. We each brought at least half a dozen new bottles of new polish with us.

“Okay, you pick for me and I'll choose yours,” I said.

“Deal.” Paige leaned over and peered at the choices. She picked up a couple of different bottles before finally handing one to me. “This is it.”

“I love it,” I said. It was a pretty copper that had a hint of metallic—perfect for fall.

“And for you …” I looked at the two choices I'd narrowed it down to. “Shimmery purple.”

“Oooh, fun,” Paige said.

“It pops with your skin tone,” I said. “It'll look great.”

We painted our nails, waited for them to dry and then inspected each other's nails.

“Gorge,” I said. “Purple was so the perfect choice.”

“The copper goes really well with your tan,” Paige said. “Plus, it's very in for fall.”

We washed our faces and got onto our beds. “Sooo …” Paige said slowly. “I'm thinking that we could watch a marathon session of
City Girls.
”

I mock-rolled my eyes. “You had to ‘think' about it, huh?”

Paige laughed and got up to put in the DVD. And for the rest of the night, we gossiped, giggled, and ate junk food. Paige really was my best friend—she'd known exactly the kind of night I'd needed to have.