City Secrets (10 page)

I turned away from the window. Suddenly I wanted to call my mom and say hi. I just needed to hear a friendly voice.

I dialed, knowing she and Dad were definitely up. They were probably planning the day from their room at the bed-and-breakfast they were staying at for vacation.

“Hi, hon!” Mom said. “How are things going?”

Just the sound of her voice made me relax. I sat at the end of the guest bed and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Really well,” I said. “I'm having lots of fun. Today, Heather and I are going riding and then getting our nails done later.”

I could feel Mom's smile through the phone. “That sounds wonderful, sweetie. I'm sure you'll miss riding Charm, but I bet you'll get a lot out of riding another horse.”

“Mr. Conner would definitely agree with that,” I said. “He always encouraged us to ride as many different horses as we can.”

“How are things with Heather?” Mom asked. “Have you heard from Paige?”

I paused. I didn't want to lie about Paige, but I also didn't want to talk about it. “Heather's being very cool,” I said. “We're getting along, and I haven't talked to Paige yet.”

There. That was true. I hadn't said Paige had texted and called me, but it was close enough.

“Well, I'm sure you two will talk soon and you'll work out your disagreement,” Mom said.

“Me too.”

But I wasn't sure. When I'd called Mom the night of the dance, I'd told her Paige and I had gotten in a fight and I'd wanted to go to Heather's for break. Mom and Dad had both agreed, but they'd been sorry Paige and I hadn't been able to spend the break together that we'd planned.

“How's the B and B?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

“It's completely charming,” Mom said. “Exactly what your dad and I hoped for. It's not one of those that makes you do scheduled activities, so you're free to do what you want during your stay. Today, your dad and I are going to visit a local art museum.”

“That sounds fun,” I said. “I better get to breakfast, but tell Dad I said hi.”

“I will, hon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

We hung up and I took a giant breath before walking out of my room. I walked down the hallway to Heather's room and found her on her laptop with her back to me. She was on her e-mail.

“Hey,” I said.

She jumped and closed the window. “God, Silver. Don't you know to say something when you walk into a room?”

“I did,” I said.

“Yeah,” Heather said, shutting the lid of her Mac. “After you were breathing down my neck.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I'll be sure to text you next time I'm going to walk into your room.”

Heather glared at me. “Ha ha.”

She'd showered and dressed too. Her chocolate brown breeches contrasted with her stark white v-neck shirt.

“Let's eat and go ride,” Heather said. She got out of her desk chair and I followed her out of her room.

We ate another great breakfast—I had Greek yogurt with granola, and Heather had slices of turkey bacon with scrambled eggs. We grabbed our purses, helmets, and boots and met in the foyer.

Heather's phone rang and she looked down at it, her face almost matching the color of her shirt.

“Hi, Dad,” she said.

She listened for a long time, and even though I couldn't make out the words, I could hear Mr. Fox's sharp tone.

“We're going right now,” Heather said. “Yes. I know. We will. Okay.”

She rolled her eyes at me.

“I'll call your secretary after, promise. Bye.”

Heather clicked the phone off and shoved it into her
purse. I didn't ask her about the call and she didn't offer up any information. I wasn't going to make her uncomfortable if she didn't want to talk about it. We pulled on our riding boots and I looked around the rug, checking to make sure I didn't leave mud or dirt anywhere.

Heather pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway. I followed her, glancing back behind us.

“Don't we have to tell someone we're leaving?” I asked.

Heather shook her head. “Please. Dad told Mom first thing this morning that we were going riding. She'll have someone call if she wants to know what we're doing.”

“Okay.”

The building was busy this morning as people hurried to work. Cars waited around the half-circle drive to pick up passengers. Heather and I stood by the curb.

“I texted Paul when I got my stuff,” Heather said. “He'll be here in a sec.”

And two cars later, I saw the Foxes' familiar car pull up. Paul got out and opened both doors, helping us into the backseat.

“Off to Westchester, right, Heather?” Paul asked.

“Right,” Heather said. “Thanks.”

We buckled up and Paul drove out of the building's driveway and up the busy streets of Manhattan.

“How far is Westchester?” I asked. “I've never been there.”

“Like, less than half an hour,” Heather said. “The last stable in Manhattan closed a while ago, and, besides, Westchester has a fab riding program.”

I shifted one leg over the other, trying not to get nervous.

Paul navigated through the traffic, and soon we were out of the city and heading north.

“What's your old stable like? Do you still have friends there?” I asked. I needed
something
before I just walked in and started riding.

“It's called Chesterfield Stables,” Heather said. “It's a lot like Canterwood, minus the school. There are three arenas—two outdoor and one indoor. I think there are fifty-something stalls, and people can board their own horses or ride school horses. Lessons are offered before and after school for students, and there are late-night sessions for adult riders.”

“Wow,” I said. I thought about Briar Creek, my old stable, and how it was nothing like Chesterfield. It had one outdoor arena and less than twenty stalls. It was a little run-down, but I'd loved it, and Charm and I had learned the basics there. Kim, my old instructor, had
taught me all she could until she'd encouraged me to apply to Canterwood.

“As for friends,” Heather said, “yeah, I've got some there. I haven't seen them much, only if I get to Chesterfield to ride when I'm home, so I don't know if they'll be there or not.”

“Maybe if your old school's on break,” I said.

“Like I had time to check the calendar for a school I don't even attend,” Heather said.

We both looked out the window as the car zipped along the highway.

“Will your old instructor be there?” I asked. I knew Heather would be annoyed that I kept asking questions, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to know more about the stable.

“She should be,” Heather said. “Are you nervous or something?”

“Yes!” I said. “I'm going to a new stable and I'm going to be riding a different horse. Plus, there might be people from your old school there and I've never met them.”

And I didn't say it, but I was secretly afraid that they were all like Heather was before we'd become friends. I just wanted to ride—not fight with mean girls.

Heather sighed, and she looked less aggravated. “Don't
worry about it. Seriously. If my friends are there, they'll be totally cool because you're with me. And my instructor will give you a good horse. When you tell her you're on the YENT, she'll know what you can handle. Trust me.”

“Okay,” I said, letting out a breath. I tried to concentrate on the scenery. The farther away we got from the city, the more trees and smaller towns we drove through. Some were tiny upstate New York towns with signs that said population: 2,000. They were like villages. Even Union was bigger than that.

“We're in Bedford,” Paul said.

“That means we'll be at Chesterfield in, like, two minutes,” Heather said.

My stomach swirled. Despite what Heather said, I was still nervous. It was my second year at Canterwood, and sometimes the fanciness of the stable still caught me off guard. I didn't want to walk into Heather's stable all wide-eyed and like I'd never been to a prestigious stable before. Mechanically I reached into my purse and pulled out the first lip gloss I could grab. Spearmint. Perfect. Hopefully the mint would somehow calm my stomach.

“Silver,” Heather said. She was staring at me.

“What?” I turned to look at her.

“I said your name twice.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking.”

“Well, stop. When we get out, try not to do anything embarrassing, okay? Like, don't let go of a horse like you did on your first day at Canterwood.”

The memory made my cheeks burn as I flashed back to my first day at Canterwood. I'd been leading Charm toward the stable when a car had backfired in the parking lot. Already antsy from the new surroundings, Charm reared and I'd been surprised. The lead line had slipped through my hands and he'd torn off across the campus. He'd headed toward the outdoor arena, where Heather and her horse, Aristocrat, had been practicing. Charm had spooked Aristocrat, and Heather had fallen off. It had been a
great
start to our relationship at Canterwood. Not.

“I won't,” I said. “And bringing that up made me feel so much better—thanks.”

Paul flicked on the right blinker and turned onto a gravel driveway. We drove up a steady hill and passed light brown fences that seemed to stretch on for miles. At least a dozen horses grazed in the lush pastures on either side of the driveway, and I swallowed—this
was
just like Canterwood.

The driveway leveled off and Paul pulled the car to the side of the massive stable. I couldn't move—I just stared
out the window. The glossy, seal brown stable looked as if it had been painted yesterday. Windows, trimmed in white, were everywhere. At the front, the sliding doors were open, and I peered around Heather to see inside.

“Just get out of the car,” Heather hissed.

“Right,” I said. I grabbed my helmet from the seat and got out as Paul opened my door.

“Have fun riding, Sasha,” Paul said. He winked at me. “You'll do great.”

“Thanks,” I said, barely able to get out the word.

Paul let Heather out of the car. “What time should I come back?” he asked Heather.

“I'll text you about an hour before we're ready to go,” Heather said. “We've got something
else
to do after this, okay?”

Paul nodded, smiling. “Understood. Don't practice too hard.”

He got into the car and headed back down the drive.

Together, Heather and I stood and looked at her old stable. When I glanced over at her, I noticed she had an expression on her face that mirrored how I felt. Could it be that Heather Fox was a little intimidated by coming home?

“Let's stop standing here like idiots,” Heather said, pushing back her shoulders.

She marched forward and I hurried after her. I glanced around at the arenas and saw that even on a superearly Monday morning, riders were practicing jumping and dressage in the arenas. Two older girls who looked like they were in college led stunning Dutch Warmbloods out of the stable, and Heather and I stepped over to give them room.

“Gorgeous,” I breathed.

“They're all like that here,” Heather said. We stepped inside the stable and I had to force myself to keep walking and not stop in the middle of the aisle. Every stall was a box stall with black iron bars over the front. Some horses had their elegant heads poked over the stall doors. I saw a hot walker toward the end of the aisle, and there were dozens of pairs of cross-ties.

“We have to go upstairs,” Heather said. “That's where the offices are.”

“Offices? Like, plural?”

Heather took a right and I followed her. “Yeah. There are always at least five instructors working here. Some of them go out of town to show their own horses and they might be gone for weeks. So there needs to be someone to step in. My old instructor stopped showing because of a back injury, so she's always here.”

“How'd she get hurt?” I asked as we climbed a flight of stairs.

“She was riding at the Red Hills trial and her horse stopped before a log jump. She flipped over his head and cracked a few vertebrae in her back. She couldn't jump again after that—it would be too jarring on her back.”

“That's awful,” I said. “I can't even imagine.”

“I know. And she loves teaching, but it can't be the same. I have no idea what I'd do if I ever got hurt like that.”

“Me either.” I shook my head, not even wanting to think about it.

We reached the top of the stairs and walked past several closed office doors to one that was half-open.

Heather knocked on the door. “Pam?”

“Come in.”

Heather pushed open the door and we walked inside.

“Heather! It's so good to see you,” the woman I assumed had to be Pam said, smiling.

The petite brunette with her hair in a French braid got up and hugged Heather.

“I'm glad to see you, too,” Heather said. “Sorry if Dad called you, like, a zillion times before I got here.”

Pam waved her hand. “Don't worry about it. I handled it.
You know how much you need to practice for Canterwood's schooling show. You don't need me to babysit you while you ride here.”

“Thanks,” Heather said. “And this is my . . . friend. Sasha. She's on the YENT with me.”

“Nice to meet you,” Pam said, shaking my hand. Her grasp was firm. “Congratulations on making the YENT. Not many do. It's incredibly competitive.”

“It's nice to meet you, too,” I said. “And I'm excited to be on the YENT. It's hard work, but I love it.”

Pam smiled. “You sound like one of my former students.” She looked at Heather.

“Sasha's ready to practice, just like I am,” Heather said. “Are any horses free?”

Pam nodded. “Since your dad got in touch with me, I made sure I had two horses ready. And I think the indoor arena's empty.”