Silver Stirrups (7 page)

The riders, clustered on the knoll behind the stable, clapped enthusiastically. This was one of the best parts of the schooling show, if not
the
best. After riding in the two classes, all the participants were invited to come to a lunchtime discussion with the judge. That way, they could learn from their mistakes. At “real”
horse shows, riders were often left in the dark about the judge’s decisions. Sometimes they could figure out why they had placed where they had; other times they had no idea what they’d done right or wrong.

“I just wish Carole could be here,” Stevie whispered to Lisa.

“Look. There she is.” Lisa gestured at Carole’s approaching figure.

“Excellent!” Stevie said happily. She felt bad that Carole had missed the equitation on the flat class. At least now she would get to hear the talk. “Her stomachache must have gone away.”

“Yeah,” Lisa said noncommitally. “Maybe so.” She squeezed closer to Stevie to make room for Carole.

“Feel better?” Stevie asked, as Carole sat down.

“A little,” Carole said in a glum tone.

Lisa said nothing. She just gave Carole as welcoming a smile as she could. Somehow she had the feeling that Carole’s stomachache was a topic to avoid.

Luckily, Jock Sawyer had stood up to address the riders. “First of all, I want to say that I’ve seen some excellent horsemanship this morning. You’re a very promising bunch of junior riders. So congratulations to all of you. Now, we’ll get to the jumping in a minute. But first a few quick comments about the flat
class. Most of the mistakes I saw were pretty typical—forgetting to check leads and diagonals …”

As Jock reeled off the list of faults, Carole’s face burned with shame. She was sure it had been completely obvious to everyone that she had copped out of the flat class—that she’d been too upset about getting second in the over-fences to continue. She’d made up the excuse of the stomachache, but she doubted she’d fooled anyone. Furtively, she scanned the crowd until she located Andrea Barry. The girl was sitting by herself near the top of the hill. Just the sight of her made Carole feel sick—with jealousy. According to Stevie and Lisa, nobody had even been close to her in the equitation on the flat.

“And now for the jumping. I saw many good rounds, but none was perfect.” Jock paused and smiled for a moment. “I’ll let you in on a secret: The red-and-white vertical doesn’t bite!” A laugh went up from the crowd. “I’ll let you in on another secret—and I’m being serious now. When I judge a show, I always like to have at least one fence like that. It separates the sheep from the goats. So, would anyone like to comment on the important elements of riding a tough course?”

“Preparation!” said a thin, clear voice.

Carole didn’t even turn her head to look. Everybody else could hang on Andrea Barry’s every word, but she wasn’t going to.

“Right!” said Jock. “What’s your name?”

“Andrea Barry.”

“Oh, yes—you rode the chestnut. Nice horse.”

“Thanks,” said Andrea shyly.

“Do you want to explain exactly what you mean by preparation?” Jock asked.

“Sure,” said Andrea. “Although I didn’t exactly follow my own advice this morning,” she admitted.

Stevie leaned toward Carole and Lisa. “She’s so modest, isn’t she?”

Lisa noticed that Carole was pretending not to hear. She tried to give Stevie a meaningful look, but Stevie had turned away. Sometimes Stevie could be so insensitive!

“Basically, you want your horse to be ready as early as possible for the next jump. You have to think about the next jump when you’re in the air over the one before it. You can’t wait until …”

Not this again!
Carole listened miserably as Andrea rattled on. This was
her
job!
She
was the one who was supposed to answer the judge’s questions!
She
was the one who was supposed to get complimented on her horse! Carole glanced imploringly at Max. He would
help her, wouldn’t he? When Andrea finished, wouldn’t he interrupt to ask for Carole’s opinion?

“… so that you meet the fence from the right spot,” Andrea concluded.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” the judge agreed.

Carole fixed her eyes on Max, willing him to say something. Max straightened up from the fence he was leaning against. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Jock—” he began.

Carole took a breath.

“—but I want to reiterate what Andrea was saying. It’s very important to …”

Carole put her head down. It was throbbing so hard it felt as if it would burst. This couldn’t be happening.

“… as Carole did.”

At the sound of her name, Carole looked up.

Max and Jock Sawyer were looking at her.

“Huh?” Carole said.

“I was just wondering if you forgot where the vertical was located, relative to the oxer before it,” Max said. “From my angle, it looked as if you really had to yank Starlight around.”

Carole cringed at the word
yank.
She wished a hole would open up in the hill so that she could sink through it. Max was finally singling her out—to embarrass
her even more! When Carole finally spoke, her voice was barely audible. “I—I guess my mind was on other things,” she said unhappily.
One other thing,
she thought,
or rather, one other person.

“Wandering mind disease,” the judge joked. “It’s something we all suffer from.”

Carole tried to smile, but her face froze. Would the discussion never end?

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Max thanked the judge again. He invited all the junior riders to stay for the afternoon and watch the adults ride. A final round of applause broke out. Jock Sawyer had been a huge hit.

“Let’s go help Red get ready and then get good seats to watch the jumping,” said Stevie as they stood up.

“Sounds good,” Lisa said.

They looked around for Carole. She was hurrying toward the driveway. Stevie put her hands to her mouth to call her back.

“I wouldn’t,” Lisa said. “Leave her be.”

Stevie raised an eyebrow at Lisa. “Are you serious?”

Lisa nodded.

“Say, there’s Andrea. Let’s ask her to come along, too.” Stevie waved the girl over. Then she turned back to Lisa. “Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

“Yes,” Lisa said succinctly.

“But then—”

“I’ll explain later,” Lisa said as Andrea joined them.

Stevie shrugged. “Okay. Hey, Andrea, two firsts—congratulations!”

L
ATE IN THE AFTERNOON
, the schooling show came to an end. The ribbons had been handed out, the horses untacked, walked, groomed, and fed. Lisa and Stevie were polishing their bridles in the tack room.

“Boy, I can’t believe Carole missed seeing Red win equitation on the flat,” Stevie said.

“And he would have done much better over fences if Kismet hadn’t been such a pain,” Lisa observed.

Stevie agreed. “That’s the problem with riding other people’s horses—you have to deal with all the bad habits they’ve developed from their owners.” Stevie paused, soaping her reins. “So now can you tell me what’s eating Carole?” she asked.

“I can try,” Lisa began hesitantly. It was easy for her to understand what Carole was going through, but she wasn’t sure how to make Stevie understand.

Lisa understood because she would have felt the same way if a new student had come to Willow Creek Junior High and started winning all the academic prizes. In school, Lisa was used to being number one.
She was very competitive when it came to grades. On the outside, Carole didn’t seem competitive at all. She had a low-key attitude, she was always willing to help her friends and fellow competitors, and she loved riding for riding’s sake, not just for the thrill of competition. But the bottom line was that she was used to being number one at Pine Hollow. It wasn’t anything that was talked about; it was just understood. Now it looked as if Andrea Barry was going to give Carole a run for her money. Instead of taking it in stride and doing her best, Carole was freaking out. It didn’t help that Andrea was a year younger. Lisa tried to put all this into words.

“I see what you’re saying,” Stevie agreed when Lisa had finished, “but I don’t see why Carole would be so upset. It’s not like Andrea’s that much better—if she even
is
better. Carole could have beaten her today, and I’m sure she could beat her on another day. At Briarwood, maybe.”

“Right. But Carole doesn’t realize that. She’s too busy panicking,” said Lisa.

Stevie wanted to hear more, but the tack room door swung open and Andrea came in. “Hi,” she said shyly. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Interrupting?” Stevie laughed. “Any time you want to ‘interrupt’ while I’m cleaning tack is fine by me!”

“On your way home?” Lisa asked. Andrea had changed into street clothes.

For some reason the question seemed to worry the new girl. “Yeah, I guess I’ll go soon.”

“Where do you live?” Stevie asked, to be friendly.

Andrea mumbled something incoherent.

“Where?” said Stevie.

“Flint Lane,” Andrea repeated.

Stevie nodded. Flint Lane was way out on the outskirts of Willow Creek. “Your mom’s picking you up?”

Looking down at the floor, Andrea shook her head. “No. I’m walking home,” she said quietly.

Above her head, Stevie and Lisa exchanged glances. Nobody
walked
from Pine Hollow to Flint Lane.

Lisa spoke up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Andrea,” she said gently. “You probably don’t realize it, but your house is about six miles from here.”

“Yeah, why don’t you call your mom?” Stevie suggested. “We can give her directions.”

Now Andrea looked extremely uncomfortable. “No, I think I’ll walk,” she said.

“But Andrea—” Stevie began.

“Look,” Lisa broke in, “
my
mother is coming in five minutes. We can run you home, okay?”

“Oh, but I don’t want you to go to any trouble—” Andrea began to protest.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Lisa said firmly. Then, prompted by Andrea’s downcast face, she added, “Anyway, my mother loves to meet my new friends.”

“Thanks, Lisa,” Andrea murmured.

“Any time.” Lisa picked up Prancer’s bit from the bucket where it had been soaping and began to scrub it. She didn’t want to look at Stevie, but she knew what they were both thinking: Andrea certainly wasn’t acting like a girl who had just won two blue ribbons.

C
AROLE LAY ON
her bed, choking back sobs.
Two blue ribbons,
she thought. The phrase kept repeating itself in her head. Andrea Barry had everything. She was not only better
and
younger, she also had advantages Carole did not. She had parents who were willing to spend whatever it took to help her get ahead. With a stab of jealousy, Carole remembered the fancy matching brush boxes, tack trunks, garment bags. Carole’s parents—her father and her mother, when she was alive—had always supported her riding, too. But her parents weren’t rich. And even if they had been rich, Carole realized, her father wouldn’t have wanted her to have all the stuff Andrea did. Colonel Hanson believed
in using hard work and elbow grease to get ahead.

All at once, the tears that had been brimming in her eyes spilled over and streamed down Carole’s face. How could she compete with a girl who had been given everything?

Colonel Hanson rapped on the door and stuck his head in. “Stomachache any better?” he inquired. “ ’Cause dinner’s almost ready.”

“Uh … yeah, Dad,” Carole said, wiping at her tears.

Carole’s father withdrew from the room but then stepped back in. “It’s not really a stomachache that’s got you down, is it, honey?” he asked gently.

Carole shook her head.

“Did something happen at the schooling show?” Colonel Hanson guessed.

Sniffing hard, Carole nodded.

“Can you tell me about it?” her father asked quietly. He came and sat on the edge of her bed.

Carole swallowed. “It was awful, Dad. I—I messed up. And then I dropped out,” she admitted.

Colonel Hanson nodded, his face serious. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But everybody messes up sometimes—nobody’s perfect, you know.”

“I know, Dad,” Carole said quietly. “But I shouldn’t have dropped out, should I?”

Colonel Hanson put an arm around her shoulders. “What do you think, honey?”

Carole could barely respond. The truth was, she was not only jealous of Andrea, she was embarrassed at what she’d done. “I know I shouldn’t have, but you see …” Slowly, haltingly, Carole heard herself telling her father about Andrea Barry, what a great rider she was, how nice her horse was, et cetera. “She—she’s
perfect,
Dad! She has everything!”

Colonel Hanson listened without interrupting. “I have a suggestion,” he said when Carole had finished.

“Yes, Dad? What do you think I should do?”

Colonel Hanson’s eyes twinkled. “The first thing I think you should do is try to get up and come down to dinner. We’re having turkey burgers.”

Carole smiled a little in spite of herself. Trust her father to think that food would cheer her up.

Then he continued more seriously. “And as for Andrea Barry, who’s to say you won’t beat her the next time? Or the time after that? A little competition can be a good thing, I always say. It keeps you on your toes, right, honey?”

“I—I guess so, Dad,” Carole said doubtfully.

Colonel Hanson gave her shoulders a squeeze. “You
might surprise yourself,” he suggested. “You might find it’s actually
more
fun having some friendly rivalry at Pine Hollow.”

Carole smiled wanly. How could she admit to her father that she didn’t
want
a rival? That she had been perfectly happy being number one all by herself?

“Now, how’s that stomachache?” Colonel Hanson asked.

“It’s better, Dad,” Carole said quickly. “Thanks.”

“There’s my girl,” he said, standing up. “And how about those burgers? Provided they’re not burned to a crisp, that is.”

Carole managed a laugh. “Sure, Dad. Turkey burgers sound great. I’ll be down in five.”

After her father left, Carole got up, went to the bathroom, and splashed water on her face. For a minute she felt like crying again, but she gritted her teeth instead. “Dad’s right,” she murmured to her reflection in the mirror. “Competition
can
be good.” She had to believe that, or she would keep feeling sorry for herself—and that meant feeling miserable.