Famous (20 page)

“Love the music,” Brielle said. “Ahhh, I can already smell that Christmas tree scent.”

“I can't wait,” I said.

“Make a seat for yourself anywhere you can,” Khloe told Bri. “Move any of my clothes. There's no order system. Unlike LT's.”

“Yeah,” I said, pretending to sound serious. “Don't move my piles coordinated by color and fabric.”

We all laughed.

“So, what's up?” I asked Bri. Now that we'd made up over the Taylor thing, it was good to have my old friend back. I didn't know if things would ever be the same, but it felt right to at least try. And Bri was making up for it in every way she could. She was there whenever I needed her, and I saw the effort she was making to prove herself to me.

“I had to talk to someone about the show,” Brielle said. “Clare's out and I was going stir-crazy in our room. I have no clue what the drill is around here. Fill me in?”

“Sure,” I said. KK nodded.

“Get up at four thirty,” I said. “Even though we're showing here, you'll want the extra time. As soon as you're dressed—and don't forget a long hoodie to cover your show clothes—head down to the stable. Riders usually start arriving by six.”

“I usually keep Ever in her stall since there's so much commotion outside,” Khloe said. “Or I'll use a tie ring in the back of the stable or crossties that are away from everyone else.”

“Good idea,” Brielle said. “Zane should be used to the noise after being a stable horse for a while, but I def want to minimize any possible stress on him.”

“After that, it's pretty much the same as it was at Briar Creek,” I said. “Tack up, warm up in one of the big arenas, and be sure to listen for the loudspeaker to announce your class.”

“I didn't even ask,” Khlo said. She stuffed a pile of something pink into her duffel bag. “What are you taking?”

“Intermediate equitation and intermediate cross-country,” Brielle said. “I want to get one last cross-country ride in before the snow and the ground gets too hard.”

“Cool,” Khloe said. “I'm doing advanced dressage and advanced equitation.”

“You're doing intermediate show jumping and intermediate dressage, right?” Brielle asked me.

“Yeah. I want to face down my jumping phobia at the end of the year.”

Both girls nodded. Brielle held a pile of Khloe's PINK pj's on her lap while she sat on KK's desk chair.

“That's a big deal, LT,” Khloe said. She turned to smile at me. The pink rhinestone-heart bobby pin in her hair sparkled.

“I want to just do it,” I said. I grabbed my last sweater—a yellow V-neck Mom and Dad had gotten me for winter. “I could have taken another class, and Mr. Conner didn't pressure me to take a jumping class, but I want to. Hopefully, I'll do well, and it'll boost my self-esteem and Whisper's.”

“You'll be awesome!” Khloe and Bri exclaimed at the same time.

The three of us burst into giggles, and I couldn't have been happier than to have the support of my friends.

SATURDAY MORNING KHLOE AND I
were up before the sun. My phone read an eighty percent chance of snow.

“It can't snow until
after
the show,” I said to Khloe and the universe. “After we're done, there can be a blizzard and I won't say a word!”

Khloe, in black-and-white polka-dot thermal pj's, ran a brush through her freshly washed and flatironed hair.

“It's not going to snow before or during the show,” she declared. “I command Mother Nature!”

I laughed. “Oh,
wow
. So you can control the weather now?”

Khloe grinned. “I at least had to try, right?”

We kept up a steady stream of chatter as we got into
our show clothes. Mr. Conner wanted us dressed in our best. I'd pulled my outfit together last night. I slipped into tights, then pulled on black breeches. Two tight white tank tops went under my white show blouse. I put on my tie and secured it with a stock pin. A black blazer completed the look.

I used my boot hook to pull on my tall black boots, which I'd polished the night before. For the final touch, I slid into my black jacket, wool since it was winter, and stuck leather gloves in my pockets.

I stepped into the bathroom and checked my appearance. My blue eyes had the look they always did before a show—wide yet determined. My hair was in a neat bun at the nape of my neck, and everything looked right.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Khloe looked over at me.

“Ready?” she asked, taking a huge breath.

“Ready.”

My roommate and I zipped ourselves into hoodies that would protect our show clothes while we readied our horses. Then, together, we headed out of Hawthorne to the final show of the season.

We hurried through the cold, not saying a word. The parking lot was full of trailers, and new horses and
riders were already milling around campus. My stomach churned. It wouldn't feel better until I saw Whisper.

Inside the stable,
Khloe and I skirted around horses getting last-minute touch-ups with hoof polish, students wiping their boots, and one horse half rearing as his rider tried to lead him forward.

We reached Ever's stall first.

“I'll find you before our first classes,” I said.

“You better,” Khloe said. She gave me a small, nervous smile.

I reached Whisper's stall and felt like I could draw my first breath since this morning.

“Hi, doll,” I said. Whisper blinked sleepily.

“Hi, Laur.” Lexa appeared next to me, covered in an oversize hoodie just like mine.

“Hey. You ready for this?” I asked.

Lexa's usually curly hair was in a tight bun, and her brown eyes looked a shade darker than usual. Her eyes were like mood rings. They turned different shades of brown depending on Lex's mood.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” she said. Honor stuck her head over the stall door, and Lexa cupped the mare's chin in her hand.

“Honor, baby,” Lexa said next to me.

We each let ourselves into our horse's stall. It was sort of an unspoken rule that once you entered your horse's stall during a show, it was private time between horse and rider. Over the stall wall, I heard Lexa murmuring to Honor. I pulled Whisper into a tight hug, giggling when she lipped softly at my earlobe.

“You're funny today,” I said. “You going to be ready to go out there and show everyone how amazing you are?”

Whisper raised her head, then pushed her muzzle into my hands. I couldn't tell whether or not it had been a head bob of
yes!
or if she was fishing for a treat.

“Treat after our ride,” I said. I kissed her muzzle. “Lots and lots of treats.”

Whisper's winter coat was already shiny from the extra grooming I'd done last night. But there were a few stalks of hay in her mane and scattered on her withers. I checked the braids in her mane and tail; they were tight and neat even after overnight.

I clipped a lead line to her halter and led her out of the stall. Usually I kept Whisper inside while I tacked her up before a show. She didn't need the extra noise and commotion rattling her. Today, however, I wanted her to feed off the excitement of competition that pulsed through the stable.

The pair of crossties in front of her stall were free, and I clipped a tie to each side of her violet halter. I took off the lead line and hung it up outside her stall.

Inside Whisper's tack trunk, I found a body brush, hoof pick, soft blue cloth, and hoof polish. It was all I needed to get her ready.

“Let's make you sparkle!” I told her.

Starting at her poll, I worked my way all the way back to her rump, then started over on the other side. Horses and riders were everywhere—we'd been lucky to get crossties. Every pair was full now, and horses were tied to the iron stall bars and various tie rings inside and outside the stable.

I stepped back and admired Whisper's coat. “Beautiful.” Every gray hair—hair that looked white—seemed to sparkle and catch the light like diamonds. I took the cloth and wiped around her eyes and muzzle. I couldn't help myself—I kissed the pink snip that I loved so much.

I pulled the hoof pick out of my pocket, stepped up to Wisp, and ran my hand down her leg.

“Hoof,” I said.

Whisper lifted her leg and stood still, not resting any weight on me like some horses did.

I scraped out any hay and sawdust that had accumulated
overnight and checked to make sure her shoe was on tight. I repeated the process on the rest of her hooves. After they were clean, I grabbed clear polish and painted it onto her black-and-tan-colored hooves.

“Now, while your pretty nail polish dries,” I said, “we'll get you tacked up.”

Yesterday I'd spent hours cleaning her tack. There wasn't a speck of dried grass on her bit, signs of sweat on her bridle, or any dirt on her saddle pad.

I picked up the saddle and pad and settled them both onto her back. I ran the fleece-lined girth with a black stripe down the center under her belly and walked over to the other side to tighten it.

Whisper never filled her stomach with air like some horses I'd ridden had. The horses had sucked in air, tricking me into thinking the girth was tight. When I'd tried to mount, I'd slipped sideways, looking ridiculous. That had taught me to always—even with good girl Whisper—double-check the girth before my ride.

Whisper's black bridle stood out beautifully against her coat. Everything was in place.

“Now, I just have to get ready,” I told Whisper. I went over to my tack trunk, unzipped my extra-long hoodie, and folded it up. I took a rag and wiped any dust off my
tall show boots. I fished out my helmet, settling the black velvet Troxel onto my head. In my right hand, I looped a crop that matched Whisper's tack around my wrist.

“You girls ready?”

I looked up to see Drew. I'd been so focused on not paying attention to the other riders that I hadn't even heard or seen him lead Polo up to us.

“Hey,” I said. “You guys look great.”

And they did. Drew's black hair was covered by a helmet, but he wore a crisp white shirt, black jacket, and black breeches. His show boots were as shiny as mine.

Polo, his gelding, looked as if he could beat any horse—except Wisp, of course—in the best-groomed department.

The blood bay's coat shone like deep copper. A white saddle pad matched the stocking on his hind leg and his eyes were clear and bright. He lowered his head to trade greetings with Whisper.

“Thanks,” Drew said. “I was going to say the same about you two. Whisper looks as pretty as her owner.”

I hid a grin, blushing. “Thank you,” I said.

“Are you nervous?” Drew asked. “This is it for the year. Then we're out of competition mode until January.”

“I thought I'd be nervous,” I said, unhooking Wisp
from the crossties. “I'm not, though. I'm calm, which is odd. I think I just feel ready, and I'm not putting pressure on myself or Whisper to get blues in both of our classes. All I care about is that we represent Canterwood well.”

“I feel the same way,” Drew said. His voice was smooth. “Polo's ready for anything, and there's nothing else I could have done training-wise. If we mess up today, it'll be my fault.”

I held the reins under Whisper's chin. “You won't mess up. I know it.”

I was standing close enough to Drew that I inhaled his minty and woodsy scent.

“I like that you believe in me,” Drew whispered, inching closer. “I know you and Wisp won't disappoint anyone.”

Drew and I leaned forward, still holding on to our horses, and our lips touched. His were smooth and dry, but not chapped. Zings of electricity pinged through my body. My head felt as though it was going to spin off my neck. We separated, and my grin was as wide as his.

“That's for good luck,” Drew said. He winked and turned Polo around, leading him toward the stable exit.