Initiation (8 page)

“Obsessed to the point where I'd needed an intervention” would've been more accurate. I'd spent hours every day of summer break looking at the Canterwood course catalog. I'd received a copy of the eighty-three page catalog.
Eighty-three
pages! For seventh graders alone! I read the catalog cover to cover multiple times. I highlighted. I sticky-noted.

At one point, Becca, half-asleep, had stumbled into my room at three in the morning one of the many nights when I'd been up with a sticky tab on every finger and a highlighter permanently affixed to my right hand. Without saying a word, she'd taken the catalog from me and walked out of my room. The next morning, I crawled into bed with her and she pulled the catalog out from under her pillow. She told me she'd done it for my own good and that if I didn't choose my classes
today
, she'd do it herself and mail it in.

Khloe held my schedule out for me to take it and snapped me back to reality. She pulled up a chair, facing Lexa and me.

The schedule swap was on!

“LET'S SEE WHAT WE'VE GOT,” KHLOE SAID
, tracing her schedule with her right pointer finger. “We
better
have some classes together or this will be the worst year of my entire life!” She sat back in her chair, fanning herself with the paper.

Lexa, smiling, rolled her eyes, and looked at me, holding up one finger—as in, rule number one—don't take anything Khloe says too seriously.

I made a check mark motion in the air so she knew I got it.

She turned to Khloe. “I'd give that performance a B minus,” she told her.

Khloe's mouth fell open. “No way. B
plus
, easy.”

Lexa shook her head. “The best I can do is a solid B.”

Khloe paused, contemplating this. “Was it the fanning? I knew I was pushing it.”

Lexa shrugged. “The fanning is too dramatic.”

“Hmm. Okay, I can take direction,” Khloe said. “No fan.”

“You could have made wide eyes and chewed your bottom lip,” I suggested, playing along with the banter.

Khloe put a hand over her heart. “When I'm accepting my first Oscar, I'll thank you both in my speech.”

“What about your second Oscar?” Lexa asked.

Khloe shook her head, a serious expression on her face. “Oh, no—I'll be waaay too famous and important by then. I'll have forgotten you long ago.”

We laughed together and I finally looked at my paper.

“Okay, I've got math with Ms. Utz,” I said.

“Me too!” Khloe and Lexa said at the same time.

We high-fived.

“American history with Mr. Spellman,” I said.

Khloe smiled. “Same.”

“Count me out,” Lexa said.

“English with Mr. Davidson,” I continued.

“You're stuck with me again,” Khloe said.

“Not it,” Lexa said.

“French III with Madame LaFleur,” I offered.

Khloe and Lexa shook their heads. “Spanish I with Señora Garcia,” Lexa said.

“I've got her, too,” Khloe said.

The two friends smiled at each other.

“I can't believe you're taking French
III
,” Lexa said. “That's waaay advanced. Most
ninth
graders don't even take it.”

“I took French at my old school,” I said. “And I studied it on my own. I love the way it sounds—it's such a romantic language.”

I looked back at my schedule. “Gym twice a week with Mr. Warren.”

“Gym?” Khloe asked. “Why are you taking that?”

“It's not required for students who participate in a sport,” Lexa explained.

“I know . . . ,” I said, hesitating to explain. “I wanted to stay extra strong for riding.”

“You're insane,” Khloe said. “After you've climbed the rope for the fiftieth time, you'll be wondering why you didn't drop it.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But my next class—life science?— sounds interesting. With Ms. Meade?”

“We're in the same class,” Lexa said. “But I'm not as interested as you seem.”

I stared at my schedule again. “All I have left is study hall twice a week and my elective—fashion,” I said. “I'd take that class every day if it was offered!”

“Ah, so we have a fashionista among us,” Lexa said, seeming intrigued.

“I had a feeling you were into fashion. I bet you like classical American fashion, maybe? That's the impression I got from your clothes,” Khloe said.

I stared at her. “That's only the highest compliment ever. Jackie O. and Audrey Hepburn are my style icons. I'm really into reinventing old looks so that they seem fresh.”

When I'd read that Canterwood offered fashion as an elective, I'd practically screamed. I BlackBerry messaged all of my friends with a dozen
!!!!!!
s and immediately starred it as a definite course. After I enrolled, I posted an update on Chatter.

LaurBell: Ahhh! I'm taking *fashion* at Canterwood this fall! So excited!
I remembered Ana's reply, smiling.

AnaArtiste: @LaurBell Hmm . . . all this time as your BFF and I had no clue
you
liked fashion. ;P

“Without question, I know Khloe's elective is acting,” I said.

Khloe grinned from ear to ear.

“What's yours?” I asked Lexa. “Website design,” Lexa said. “I'm really big into online artistry. I already promised KK that as soon as I was ready, I'd create her own personal website complete with acting portfolio.”

“I'm excited,” I said. “But it definitely sounds like we're all going to be busy.”

“Definitely.” Khloe folded her schedule. “Oh—plus glee club.”

“As if,” I said. “Not that I'll even make it. I'm just excited to audition.”

“I've watched the glee club perform before games and school events,” Lexa said. “Everyone always looks like they're having so much fun—and they do super contemporary stuff, which is cool.” She peered at my schedule again. “Now that I'm looking at it on paper, your schedule is
really
full. A ton of advanced classes, plus riding
and
glee club.”

I scanned my paper. “
Maybe
glee club. But I don't seem to have more than you or Khloe. Plus, riding and glee and fashion are all things I
live
for.” My smile sunk a little. “You think it's too much?”

“I think Lexa just meant you're taking those AP classes, so it might mean more homework,” Khloe said. “It's your
first year, is all. We just want you to be careful to ease into things so you don't overextend yourself.”

“I won't,” I promised. Lexa and Khloe still seemed concerned, but they'd see—I'd just have to
prove
that I could handle the courses.

We spent a few more minutes chatting about classes before it was dinner time. Khloe and Lexa waited in the hallway while I put away my tea and two mugs.

As we walked, I checked my phone—two BBMs.

Taylor: How's it going, Canterwood girl?

Brielle: Laur! How's everything?! I need deets!

I knew
exactly
who I was three-way conference calling when I got back from dinner. Smiling, I followed Khloe and Lexa to the dining hall—to my first official dinner as a student at Canterwood. Looking from my new roommate to my new friend (I hoped), I wondered how long it had taken
them
to feel like real Canterwood students.

IN THE SUNDAY MORNING DARKNESS, I SLIPPED
out of bed and grabbed the clothes I'd laid out the night before.

It was barely dawn and I was on my way to the stable to visit Whisper.

I loved getting up with the sun. I was definitely a morning person. I tiptoed to the bathroom, dressed in breeches, a lilac and white striped V-neck T-shirt and paddock boots. Being a morning person in a houseful of night owls had taught me the invaluable skill of moving around without making one sound. In the bathroom, I brushed my hair, putting it into a loose, faux-messy bun. I washed my face and applied tinted sunscreen and ran through the rest of my routine, thinking about last night's dinner with Khloe and Lexa.

I saw that Clare—Khloe's other friend—sat alone across the cafeteria until Khloe's arch-nemesis, Riley, walked over to her with a few other girls I didn't know.

Khloe waved at Clare, but the two definitely stayed separated at all times in the cafeteria. It felt as if Riley had drawn an invisible line between Khloe and Clare.

Once I was all ready to go, I left a gently snoring Khloe in our room and walked down Hawthorne's hallway. Even our dorm monitor, Christina, wasn't up yet. Every single dorm room door was closed. Silent. No TV, no laughter, no ringing phones. Not even a whisper was audible.

I pushed open the door and walked down the sidewalk. The fiery sun rose over one of the pastures and horses' backs began to be illuminated in the light. Like a shadow was being lifted from the campus.

I passed the gym, then the pool, and started past the tennis courts. Two older girls, engaged in a fierce tennis match, were red-faced as they darted back and forth across the court—slamming the ball over the net.

The old-fashioned streetlamps made the campus look
très parfait.
Like a framed painting. The lamps turned off as soon as the sunlight hit them.

My pace quickened as I walked down the sidewalk, passing through the courtyard and nearing the stable.

I couldn't wait to see Whisper.

I hoped her first night on campus had been as good as mine.

The stable's sliding white doors were open. So . . . I wasn't the
only
one here early. Several students were around. Some mucked out stalls, cleaned tack, organized tack trunks or even bathed horses in the wash stalls.

This isn't Briar Creek,
I reminded myself.

If I'd gone to my old stable this early, I would have been the only student there for several hours. This many riders here before six on a Sunday morning told me one thing:
I have to be on.
There were too many great, dedicated riders here for me to slack even for one second. I would have to be at the stable as much as possible and put everything I had into riding.

Tomorrow was my test ride from which Mr. Conner would place me in the beginner or intermediate team. Over the summer, all the new seventh-grade riders got an e-mail from Mr. Conner, explaining how the testing system worked. Apparently, it had changed from last year.

Incoming seventh graders would test for the beginner or intermediate team. Returning students already on the beginner or intermediate team would test the following week so long as they'd been on the same team for a full school year.

Last year, a couple of talented sixth graders, including Khloe, had tested into the advanced team, where they would start this year. The intermediate pool would be bigger this year—with room for up to six students. I wondered how many of those six slots were actually occupied.

I headed for Whisper's stall near the end of the aisle. I spotted someone familiar next to Whisper's stall—a petite girl with curly dark hair pinned back with glittery purple barrettes.
Oooh, the barrettes!
J'adore!

Lexa took a halter and lead line out of her tack trunk. She looked up when I stopped at Whisper's gleaming wooden tack trunk.

“Hey, neighbor,” Lexa said.

“Oh, cool,” I said. “This is perfect.”

I felt so guilty last night after all the time I'd spent with Khloe and Lex. I hated not being truthful with two incredibly nice people who honestly wanted to be friends. Still, every time I thought about telling the truth about my riding background, my . . . accident, I'd stopped.

No. Canterwood was my fresh start. And if that meant leaving out some details about my career as a competitive rider, who would really even care?