Showjumpers (11 page)

The other jockeys went on talking after that, but Riley looked uncomfortable. He picked up his plate and took it to the sink.

“We should go now,” he said to Georgie.

As they walked back towards the Chevrolet, Riley stuck his hands in his pockets. “Sorry about what they said back there,” he said. “I didn’t tell them you were my girlfriend or anything. Those guys just make stuff up.”

Georgie smiled. “They do seem to like telling stories.”

“Oh, yeah,” Riley rolled his eyes, “I’ve heard all of those stories at least ten times. Mind you, they change every time they tell them.”

Kenny was already in the front seat waiting for her. Georgie swung open the passenger door, then turned back to Riley to say her goodbyes.

“You did really good out on the track today,” Riley smiled at her. “You really let go.” He paused and then he said, “I think we’re done, Georgie. After the way you handled Tally on that track, I don’t think you need my help any more.”

The smile disappeared from Georgie’s face. “Oh,” she said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. “Well, umm, OK then. Thanks.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” Riley replied. Riding trackwork this morning had been one of the best times Georgie had ever had. She thought he’d had fun too. So why didn’t Riley want to see her again?

Georgie suddenly realised that it wasn’t just about the horses. She enjoyed being with him, hanging out. The thought of this being over, of it being the end made her stomach go funny inside.

“Yeah,” Georgie said as she got into the Chevrolet. “See you around.”

She slid over on the bench seat and Riley slammed the passenger door shut, gave her a wave through the window and turned to walk away back to the stables. Georgie sat for a moment, her heart racing, watching him go. Kenny had just put the car into gear and was about to set off when something inside of her snapped.

“Wait!” She opened the car door and called out after him, “Riley! Wait!”

Georgie leapt out of the car and ran across the grass. She was trembling with excitement and nerves as she stood there facing him. She was standing so close she could see a tiny cluster of perfect brown freckles across the bridge of Riley’s crooked nose. Georgie gazed into his green eyes and almost lost her nerve.

“Yeah?” Riley smiled. “What is it?”

“I was just wondering,” Georgie hesitated. She took a deep breath and then the words came tumbling out.

“Riley Conway, would you go to the School Formal with me?”

G
eorgie stared expectantly at Riley, waiting for his reply.

“What’s a formal?” he said.

“Oh!” Georgie was flustered. “I should have explained that first! It’s like a dance. There’s one at school at the end of term and I was wondering if you would, you know, go with me?”

“A dance?” Riley frowned, “At Blainford?”

“Uh-huh,” Georgie smiled.

“Does that mean getting dressed up in a suit?”

“Well,” Georgie said, “I was planning on wearing a dress, but yes, you’d have to wear a suit.”

Riley looked uncertain. He gazed down at his feet, avoiding Georgie’s eyes. “I dunno… I’m not much of a dancer. It doesn’t sound like my sort of thing, Georgie. I’m sorry.”

Georgie’s smile disappeared. “Oh, hey, no,” she said, “I mean, sure, that’s fine. I didn’t really think you’d want to go, but that’s OK. Really. OK. I better go now.”

“Georgie, wait…” Riley began, but it was too late. Georgie ran back and jumped into the front seat of the Chevrolet, pulling the door shut after her, mortified with embarrassment.

“He turned you down?” Alice pulled a face. “What is going on? Are we so totally un-dateable that even Kenny’s nephew won’t go to the Formal with us?”

“He said it ‘wasn’t his sort of thing',” Georgie said as she threw herself down on the sofa in the Badminton House common room.

“The School Formal is only three weeks away and none of us have dates yet,” Emily sighed.

“Actually,” Daisy King said, putting down the eventing magazine she had been reading, “I’ve got a date.”

“You’ve got a what?” Alice was stunned. “But you said that the whole School Formal thing was pointless! You didn’t even want to go!”

Daisy shrugged. “I know. But then I figured that since everyone else was going I might as well. And besides, I look really good in a prom dress.”

“So who is it?” Emily wanted to know.

“Who is what?” Daisy replied.

“Don’t mess with us, Daisy,” Alice snapped. “You know what she means. Who’s asked you to the Formal?”

“Oh,” Daisy said airily. “I thought I’d said already.” She looked at their expectant faces. “Nicholas Laurent.”

“Wow,” Emily Tait was thoroughly impressed. “He’s so… so French!”

Alice groaned, “Well, duh, Emily – I think we’ve all noticed that!”

“The French are so sophisticated,” Emily said, throwing herself on the sofa next to Daisy, who was trying to read her magazine again. “They speak the language of love!”

“I thought they spoke French,” Georgie said.

Daisy sighed. “I’m not marrying him, Emily, he’s just taking me to the Formal.”

“I wish Alex would ask me,” Emily looked wistful.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Alice countered.

“Ohmygod, I couldn’t!” Emily buried her head in a sofa cushion. “What if he said no?”

“Good point,” Georgie groaned. “I wish I’d thought of that before I asked Riley.”

“Even if we don’t have dates,” Alice continued, “we should get our dresses organised.”

“What’s the point in having something to wear to the Formal if no one has actually asked you to go?” Georgie said.

“Think about it this way,” Alice said. “What if someone does ask you at the last minute and you don’t have anything to wear?”

“OK,” Emily said. “So where are we going to buy them from?”

“Selma’s Second-timers,” Alice said. “It’s a vintage store in Lexington. Kendal bought her last two formal dresses from Selma’s. She got a red silk chiffon one and it only cost her eight dollars. All she did was rip the lace off the bottom and it was perfect.”

That night, Georgie emailed home to Lily, her best friend back in Little Brampton. She realised she hadn’t emailed since the mid-term break so she had a lot to tell – all about James and the Kirkwood mansion, through to riding trackwork and asking Riley out. She’d barely clicked send when Lily’s reply pinged back to her.

By Monday morning it was clear that Formal Fever had crept up on the whole of Blainford. Everywhere Georgie looked there were clusters of girls gossiping about who had asked them to the dance, and boys looking as if they were about to throw up with the anxiety of doing the asking.

“Tyler McGuane’s asked Bunny Redpath, and Jenner Philips is going with Blair Danner – but just as friends, they’re not dating or anything,” Alice reported excitedly as they took their seats in Ms Schmidt’s class. “And…” she whispered conspiratorially, glancing over at the dressage geeks in the front row, “I heard that Karl Mortensen asked Isabel Weiss!”

Isabel certainly seemed to have that golden glow that a girl gets when she has a date for the Formal. Or at least Georgie imagined that was what she’d look like if she had a date – she wouldn’t know since she still didn’t have one herself.

As for Alice, everyone knew that she had been waiting patiently, ever since the dance was first mentioned, for Cameron to ask her. Everyone, it seemed, except Cameron.

Cameron and Alex Chang had both made it through the knockout stage with the Luhmuhlen House showjumping team and had been training after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

“Meanwhile, we’re training on Mondays and Wednesdays and Saturdays,” Alice complained to Georgie, “So I hardly ever see Cam. No wonder he hasn’t asked me to the Formal. He hasn’t had a chance.”

“Maybe he doesn’t realise that you want to go with him?” Georgie said. “Maybe you should drop a few hints?”

And so, as the girls walked to the dining room for lunch, Alice manoeuvred her way to Cameron’s side. “Hey, Cam!” she said brightly.

“Hi, Alice,” Cameron grinned. “How’s your showjumping training going? It’s pretty cool that both our houses made the finals, huh?”

“Yeah,” Alice agreed, “really cool…”

She could see Georgie and Emily watching her from across the quad, egging her on.

“So the School Formal is coming up—” Alice began.

“I know!” Cam said. “Hey, I wanted to ask you… what do you think about me wearing a tuxedo? Is it retro cool or should I just wear a suit?”

Alice was confused. “Ummm, a suit, I guess…”

“Or I could wear a kilt?” Cam suggested. “I’ve got one. It’s in my clan tartan – black and red and green.”

“I don’t know, Cam,” Alice said. “It might be OK in Scotland, but most girls here would probably prefer it if they were the only one in the couple wearing a skirt, you know?”

“Got you!” Cam said. “Good advice. No skirt. And what about corsages? Should they be like these big floral things or just a little wrist strap?”

“Orchids are always nice,” Alice offered. “They’re a reasonable size.”

“Right,” Cam said. “That’s brilliant. Thanks, Alice.”

“Listen, Cam—” Alice began, but he cut her off again.

“I’ll catch up with you later, OK?” Cam said distractedly, looking across the quad. “I need to go talk to Kennedy before someone else gets in first.” And Cameron was off and running.

Cameron was panting as he caught up with the showjumperettes in the lunch queue at the dining-hall door. Kennedy Kirkwood was holding court with Arden and Tori on either side, flanking her like obedient, well-groomed Afghan hounds.

“Hey, Kennedy,” Cam smiled at her. “Can I ask you something?”

Kennedy shrugged. “I guess so. What is it?”

Cam cleared his throat. “I just wanted to ask you… ummm, whether you had a date for the Formal yet?”

Kennedy’s eyes opened wide. “You’re asking me to the Formal?”

“Well, yeah,” Cameron said. Kennedy hesitated. “I won’t wear a skirt,” Cameron added hastily, “and I’ll get you a reasonable-sized orchid.”

“Wow,” Kennedy said dryly. “When you put it that way, you make it sound so tempting. Sorry, Kevin…”

“It’s Cameron. My name is Cameron.”

“O-K, whatever,” Kennedy said, “I’m sorry
Cameron,
but as I was saying, I already have a date for the Formal.”

“She already has a date!”

Cameron plonked his lunch tray down on the table next to Alice and flung himself down in his chair. He began to stab at his pasta in a menacing fashion. “How come I didn’t know that? Who is he?”

“Does it matter?” Georgie said. “Just forget about it Cam, let it go.” She was trying desperately to shut Cameron up. His talk wasn’t exactly improving Alice’s terrible mood. She was still in shock at what she described as ‘the ultimate betrayal'.

“I mean, does Kennedy even really have a date or is that just her way of giving me the brush-off?” Cameron ranted. “She didn’t even know my name! She called me Kevin!”

“Stop obsessing, Cam,” Emily Tait said. “There are lots of other girls you could ask…”

“Hah!” Cameron gave a hollow laugh. “No way. I’m not setting myself up to be the guy that gets turned down twice. Way too embarrassing, thank you very much!”

He turned to Alice, “So I guess it’s you and me then!”

Alice, who had been studiously concentrating on her pasta and trying desperately to ignore Cameron’s ranting, suddenly looked up. “You and me what?”

“The School Formal. We can go together. Problem solved. How about it?” Cam grinned at her.

“You’re asking me to the dance?” Alice said.

“Well, yeah, I suppose so,” Cam said.

Alice looked at him, her face utterly impassive and unreadable. Then she slowly, deliberately, picked up her pasta bowl and, without saying a word, stood up and emptied the contents of the bowl on to his head, before storming out of the dining room.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then, shall I?” Cameron called after her as he picked the pasta spirals out of his hair.

He turned back to Emily and Georgie. “What did I say?”

Georgie shook her head and handed him a napkin. “Here,” she said, “you’ve got tomato sauce on your forehead.”

“I don’t understand,” Georgie said as they walked the horses out to the arena for Tara Kelly’s cross-country lesson that afternoon. “You want to go with Cam, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” Alice said, “but I’m not going to be his date just because Kennedy Kirkwood turned him down. You know, Georgie, I’ve got my pride too. I’m not going to be his fall-back option.”

“So do you think Kennedy was making it up?” Georgie asked. “You know, that stuff about already having a date?”

“Kennedy may cheat, but she doesn’t lie,” Alice said. “She’s probably hooked some poor polo boy into taking her.”

Kennedy was obviously making plans for the formal; she and Arden were loudly discussing prom dresses as the eventing class lined up for their gear inspection.

“I can’t decide between the Victoria Beckham dress or the Marchesa,” Arden was complaining.

“You’re going off the peg?” Kennedy wrinkled up her nose. “Patricia is getting Fabien to design something especially for me, with lots of Swarovski crystals all over the bodice and—”

“Miss Kirkwood? Miss Mortimer?” Tara Kelly interrupted. “If you girls want to waste valuable time talking about something as unimportant as the School Formal, then you can do it elsewhere – not in my class!”

“Sad old spinster,” Arden muttered under her breath as their instructor walked away. “Just because Hans dumped you before the Formal a million years ago, doesn’t mean the rest of us are losers too!”

“You’re such a numnah, Arden!” Georgie hissed.

Arden’s smirk disappeared. “Gee, Georgie,” she said sarcastically, “I suppose someone needs to stand up for the lame and the dateless amongst us. And who better to do it than you?”

“That is a joke coming from you, Arden!” Alice said, leaping to Georgie’s defence. “Georgie would still have a date if you hadn’t stolen her boyfriend.”

“I didn’t
steal
James!” Arden pouted and glared at Georgie. “You just can’t handle the fact that he likes me and not you.”

“And you don’t think it’s a bit weird?” Georgie shot back, “that one minute he’s kissing me and the next you’re going out with him and he won’t even talk to me?”

“That’s not how it happened.” Arden began, but she was interrupted by Kennedy.

“Georgie, Georgie, Georgie…” Kennedy shook her head, “you just don’t get it, do you? My brother is a Kirkwood – which makes him a Thoroughbred. And Thoroughbreds do not go out with little cart ponies like you. James came to his senses. Get over it and stop drooling over him in the dining hall.”

As the riders made their way down to the steeplechase course, the showjumperettes were laughing and giggling and Georgie felt herself shaking with suppressed fury.

“The course is far more slippery than it was last time,” Tara told them. “So please, take it easy out there and give each other some space, OK?”

As Georgie drew up to the start line, she tried to regain her composure. Beneath her, Belle was skipping and dancing with excitement and Georgie turned the mare around to keep her moving until Tara gave the words.

“Ready, set, go!”

Belle broke fast, her hind legs propelling her like a racehorse from the start gates, mud flying up from beneath her hooves as she began to gallop.

Georgie stayed with the mare, trying not to fight or hold her back. They were in the middle of the field, and Belle was settling nicely into her rhythm when it began.

Kennedy Kirkwood appeared at Georgie’s side. She must have ridden hard to reach Georgie because at the start line she’d been almost on the other side of the group. Now she was right up against Georgie, her chestnut gelding so close to Belle that the two horses only had a narrow space between them. Kennedy rode shoulder to shoulder with Georgie and then, in one insane manoeuvre, she kicked on and yanked her right rein hard, edging out in front and pulling her horse over so that they were barrelling into Georgie’s path, cutting her off!