Take the Reins (9 page)

“MY PARENTS WILL BE HERE IN AN HOUR!”
Paige squeaked. She raced to my side of the room, nearly tripping over the vacuum, and stood on my bed. Paige had been up since five, cleaning.

Parents' Weekend had taken over Canterwood Crest Academy. Across the hall, Livvie was dispersing cleaning products to residents as they prepped for parental invasion. This weekend was going to be a busy one.

“You're making me feel bad,” I said to Paige. “You're running around and I'm not doing anything.”

She climbed on my bed and started peeling off the Hunter poster.

“What are you doing?” I cried. “Not Hunter!” I grabbed her fuzzy, blue, sock-clad foot, and tried to pull her off my bed.

“A man poster can't stare at them when they walk in the door!” She peeled off the tape, carefully folded Hunter and slid him under my bed.

High heels clicked up and down the hallways. Parents knocked on dorm room doors. I heard Livvie telling someone's mother, “Of course she brushes her teeth every night!”

Mom and Dad would be meeting me in the courtyard any minute. I knew they would want to visit Charm, but what if we ran into the Trio? Mom and Dad still didn't know about them—and I didn't want them to worry. Luckily, we wouldn't have much time to spend in the stable since Canterwood had practically scheduled every single second of Parents' Weekend.

“I'm heading out to meet my parents,” I said to Paige. “See you later!” I hurried out of Winchester and headed down the sidewalk.

“Sashie!” Mom sang from across the courtyard. I cringed.

Another girl was doing the same thing a few feet away.

A man who looked like her father had just yelled, “Here we are, princess!” We exchanged a look of mutual discomfort.

“I can't wait for Parents' Weekend to be over,” she said in a hurried whisper. “Every year I tell them Parents' Weekend is cancelled and every year they find out I'm lying.”

Her parents got to her first and swooped her in a hug. She tried to gracefully untangle herself from them before anyone noticed. But when she pulled away, she didn't let go of her mom's hand.

In seconds, Mom and Dad reached me and wrapped me up in a hug.

“I missed you guys,” I said, taking in Dad's familiar woodsy scent.

“We missed you,” Mom said, pulling me in for another hug. “We thought Parents' Weekend would never come!”

I extracted myself from her arms. “Paige can't wait to meet you guys!”

“Lead the way,” Dad said.

I sighed with relief that there was no camera hanging from his neck.

Inside the dorm, Mom pointed to an ad on the board and Dad put his sunglasses on top of his head to read it. “‘Come join the Frisbee club.'” Yet another one of Utz's activities. “‘Flying fun for everyone.' You would have loved that club in school, wouldn't you, Gail?”

Mom shook her head. “Frisbee would have been better than Latin. I would have been so much cooler!”

“As a former football jock, sweetheart, I'm telling you that Frisbee Club wouldn't have made you any less dorky,” Dad said.

“Ouch,” she replied, matching his grin.

We headed down the hallway and stopped at my open door.

Paige waved my parents inside. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Silver! I'm so happy to finally meet you.” She hugged Mom and shook Dad's hand. “Can I offer you some hot mulled cider from our dorm kitchen?”

“Oh, you don't have to make us cider,” Mom said, hugging Paige back. “Sasha has told us about you, too. The dorm looks great!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Silver!” Paige beamed.

“Are these lemon squares?” Mom asked, looking at the prettily arranged yellow squares on the coffee table.

“Those sure are lemon squares,” Paige said. “Help yourselves.”

“Are your parents coming?” Dad asked her.

“They should be here soon,” Paige said.

“We look forward to meeting them,” Mom said. Paige headed for our closet and grabbed her jacket.

“I have a few errands to run before my parents get here. I'll see you guys later!” Paige said.

“It sounds like you two are getting along well,” Mom said.

I sat on Paige's bed. “We're getting along great. I've heard roommate horror stories, but I really got lucky with Paige. I can't wait to meet her parents.”

“What do they do?” Dad asked.

“They own a restaurant in New York City and her dad's also in real estate.”

“That sounds interesting,” Dad said as he paged through my algebra textbook. He tried to mentally figure out one of the answers and I grinned when he looked stumped. Canterwood math frazzled even my banker dad!

“Do you want a tour before Paige's parents get here?” I asked, brushing a stray horsehair off my jeans.

“That sounds great!” Mom said. She grabbed her purse from my bed and Dad eased himself out of my chair.

I showed Mom and Dad the coffee shop, cafeteria, gym, and bowling lanes, but then I started to run out of ideas.

“I want to see Charm,” Mom said, sidestepping a small pile of leaves. “I haven't seen him since the show.

“Okay,” I chirped. “He'd love to see you guys.”

At least I didn't have to worry about running into
the Foxes. Callie had heard through the grapevine that Heather's parents were on vacation in Bermuda.

We entered the stable and headed down to Charm's stall. The quiet aisles had only a few students milling around with their parents. “Charm is so happy,” I said. “He loves his deluxe stall.”

“He
should
love it. It's the size of the old ring at Briar Creek,” Dad said.

I unlatched Charm's door.

“He's toned up so much recently,” I said. “He can canter without getting tired for fifteen minutes longer than he could last year and his gaits are so much smoother—”

A fuzzy, familiar pony named Royal stood inside Charm's stall. Charm's bucket and hay net were gone.

“Where's Charm, hon?” Dad asked. “Is this the wrong stall?”

“No,” I snapped. “This is Charm's stall.” When I reached to grab Royal's halter, the palomino pony flattened his ears against his head and showed the whites of his eyes. I jerked my hand back and slammed the door shut.

“Did Charm get moved?” Mom asked, peering into the stalls next to Royal. “Should we go find Mr. Conner?”

“It's a joke that some of us play on each other,” I said. “This pony bites and it's a pain to move him around.”

“Oh,” Mom said, “that's a cute tradition.”

“Wait here a sec,” I said. I stepped away from the stall. “Let me check down here for Charm.” While Mom and Dad read the nameplates of Charm's stable mates, I jogged down the aisle, glancing in the stalls.

Black Jack, Trix, Sunstruck, and Aristocrat were all in their own stalls. Royal's stall was empty. Finally, I spotted a chestnut back. I dashed up to the stall. “Charm!” A horse that was definitely not Charm turned and looked at me. He swept his ears back and turned his back on me. I zigzagged across the aisle to check the remaining stalls. I was going to kill her. Familiar ears stuck up from a stall to my left. “Oh, Charm,” I said. I waved my parents over. “Here he is.”

“I can tell you've been working him,” Dad said. “He looks amazing!”

Charm's chiseled legs had new muscles running from his knees to his hooves. He had lost his slight hay belly. I smiled, but kept my attention directed toward Royal's stall. Heather would surely return to the scene of the crime.

“How many hours a week are you riding now?” Dad
gently stroked Charm's soft muzzle. Charm leaned into Dad's hand.

“Twenty to twenty-five.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Heather saunter her way to Royal's stall. “Can you wait here? I need to speak to my friend for a minute.” I tore off down the aisle.

“That was too much,” I said to Heather.

“Let's not be all dramatic,” Heather said, smoothing her skirt.

I stomped in the direction of Mr. Conner's office and yelled over my shoulder. “I'm over this,” I said. “I'm telling Mr. Conner that you moved Charm out of his stall.”

I knocked on Mr. Conner's office door and, before he could call me inside, I pushed it open. A thin woman with dyed blond hair sat in one of Mr. Conner's chairs. “Sasha,” Mr. Conner said. “I'm in a meeting at the moment. Is this an emergency?”

“Yes, Mr. Conner! Heather moved Charm into a different stall. She took all of his gear and put him at the end of the stable.”

Mr. Conner raised his hand, “Wait a minute, Sasha—”

“She did,” I said, cutting him off. “She stuck Royal in his stall and I can't get him out because he bites.”

He gave a thin-lipped smile to the woman sitting in the chair. The woman's posture stiffened and she brushed off her fitted beige jacket as she stood. “Sasha,” Mr. Conner warned. “We'll talk about this later.”

“Mr. Conner, Charm could have been hurt—”

Heather sidestepped me and slipped her arm around the waist of the tall woman in Mr. Conner's office. “Sasha can't take a little joke between friends sometimes,” Heather said.

A familiar-looking man stepped into the office behind Heather.

I was trapped in Mr. Conner's office with the Foxes!

I should have known Heather's parents wouldn't pass up the chance to grill Mr. Conner about her progress. Mr. Fox couldn't have been happy after Heather's loss to Callie at the state show.

“William,” Mrs. Fox said to Mr. Conner, as she adjusted the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist. “What's going on?” I couldn't believe I had ranted about Heather in front of her parents.

“I'm not sure,” Mr. Conner said. “But we're certainly going to find out.” He turned back to me. “Where are your parents?”

“At Charm's stall.”

Heather's mother slung an arm over her daughter's shoulder. They looked like sisters.

Mr. Conner motioned for me to step out. “Why don't you bring them in.”

 

Ten minutes later, with formal, stuffy greetings behind us, the Foxes and the Silvers sat side by side in Mr. Conner's office.

“What's going on?” Mom asked Mr. Conner. “Is there a problem?” Poor Mom and Dad. I had dragged them in here without saying anything except that I'd explain the whole thing later. Mom looked as if we had been called to the principal's office.

Mr. Conner folded his hands and placed them on the desk. “I'm not sure
what
the problem is, Mrs. Silver. Heather? Sasha?”

Heather clicked her Sidekick shut and smiled. “There's no problem, Mr. Conner. I played a harmless little trick on Sasha. I guess because she was stressed about Parents' Weekend, she got upset.” Heather glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

Mr. Fox's cell phone rang and he jumped up to answer it. “Sorry,” he said to us, covering the phone with his hand. “I've got to take this.” Mrs. Fox ignored him and kept her eyes on Heather.

“Sasha? Is that true?” Mr. Conner asked.

I glanced at Mrs. Fox, her skin stretched tight over her face. She raised her eyebrows and gave me an all-too-familiar stare.

“There is something I should confess,” I said slowly, watching Heather's face. Her mouth pressed into a tight line.

“Mr. Conner, whatever she says, it's not true,” Heather interjected.

“You mean it's not true that you offered to make a truce?” I said in a pretend surprised tone.

“Of course
that's
true,” she said, her sweet tone returning. “I thought I'd try to make things better between us since we got off on the wrong foot.”

“She did,” I said. “She said she'd even muck Charm's stall this week as a peace offering. Wasn't that generous?” I struggled to keep a straight face. She had no way out of this one.

“That was kind of you, Heather,” Mr. Conner said with a hint of a smile. “I'll let Mike know that you'll be caring for Charm this week.”

I kept my eyes on Mr. Conner, avoiding Heather's glare. Charm was getting extra bran all week as an added bonus for his substitute groom.

Mrs. Fox stood, her legs stretching for miles in expensive-looking high heels, and motioned for Heather
to follow her. “We have a dinner we need to attend, but we'll speak with you later, I'm sure.” Heather and Mrs. Fox slipped out of the office.

Dad got to his feet and extended his hand to Mr. Conner. “I hope that's as serious as the pranks get around here,” Dad said as he shook Mr. Conner's hand.

I inched toward the door.

“Mom,” I said, tugging on her sleeve. “We should go. I don't want to be late to meet Paige.”

“My riders are usually quite serious about why they're here,” Mr. Conner said. “I hope the pranks are out of their system now.” My ears reddened and I nodded. “Sasha, I'll see that Charm gets back to his stall.” He tipped his head at us and we shuffled out of his office.

When we left the stable, Mom and Dad didn't say a word. Dad pointed out a picnic table under a large oak tree. “Sasha, we need to talk,” he said.

“Let's talk later,” I smiled. “If we don't go, we'll be late.”

“Then we'll be late. Sit.” Mom wasn't kidding.

Dad took a seat on the bench and Mom sat beside him, placing her fancy purse, the one she only used for weddings and visits to Canterwood, beside her.

“What's going on?” Dad asked. He looked as if he already knew.

Part of me was still their little girl and wanted my mom to step in to fix everything. But I was twelve, not five. “Nothing,” I said.

“Tell us,” Mom said, her voice soothing.

I sat in silence.

“Heather and I just don't get along,” I said, finally.

“Why?” Dad asked.

“She thinks I'm going to make the advanced team instead of her,” I said.