DURING THE WARM-UP, I APPLIED THE NEW techniques Mr. Conner had taught my class this week. I ignored the swirl of black, gray, chestnut, and other colors of horses around us. All my focus was on Whisper. She was responding in return by listening to each cue. If this was all we did today, I’d be proud. I was back, and I had Whisper with me. I’d spotted Clare and Cole in another arena. I’d started to look for Riley, then I remembered.
I sat deep in the saddle, trotting her toward the arena exit. In the other, bigger arena, the obstacles for the trail course had already been set up.
In the smaller arena, dressage markers were in place. I couldn’t wait to begin. Bleachers had been set up on the outside of the fence for students and riders who wanted to watch whatever class was happening in the arena. Four judges, three women and a man, readied piles of papers and pulled out chairs to sit at the banquet table that was up against the arena fence.
“Hey! Watch it!”
A horse bumped against Whisper’s hindquarters.
“What are you doing?” I said, edging Whisper over. “There’s plenty of room!”
A brunette on a bay tugged on her horse’s reins, yanking the horse over. “Apparently, our definitions of ‘room’ are seriously different.”
I wasn’t going to argue with her. It wasn’t worth it—I’d learned that a long time ago. I eased Whisper to a walk and let the horse and rider get well ahead of us before we followed them out of the arena.
Riders were allowed to stay in the warm-up arena, but Mr. Conner, Mike, and Doug signaled to everyone else to exit the spaces that were about to be used for show.
Classes.
Were.
Starting.
A voice I didn’t recognize announced the start of the advanced show-jumping class and called for riders to report to the arena immediately.
Mr. Conner put a loudspeaker to his mouth. “May I please have all the competitors for the intermediate dressage class in the arena marked with the number three? Again, all riders for the intermediate dressage class, please report now to arena three.”
I walked Whisper toward Mr. Conner, watching as a few other riders headed in the same direction. I smiled, breathing a little easier, when Lexa and Honor popped into view. We halted on the side of the entrance, and I counted ten other riders joining us.
Lexa and I didn’t speak—I imagined she was focusing too.
I didn’t allow myself to spend much time watching the guys and girls around me. That was something Old Lauren would have done. Canterwood Lauren stayed focused on her horse.
“Welcome, everyone,” Mr. Conner said. He’d put the loudspeaker on a nearby table. “For those of you who are not Canterwood students, I’m honored to have you, your horses, and your instructors here. Each of you here has signed up for the intermediate dressage class.”
I stroked Whisper’s neck. My eyes caught a chestnut striking the grass with a foreleg, blowing a breath through his nostrils.
“The order has been set, and a judge will call your name when it’s time for your test,” Mr. Conner continued. “If you did not memorize your test, please let me know before entering the arena and I will make sure a caller is in place.”
“While waiting for your turn, please feel free to walk your horse in this area.” Mr. Conner waved to it with his hand. “But refrain from loud talking or cell phone use. When your name is called, please head for the arena entrance. I wish each of you the best, and it’s time to begin.”
Time to begin. Those words rolled around in my brain. It was time to begin my first show since Red Oak. No. My first show as a Canterwood Crest Academy student.
“Jenny Kai and Striker,” the male judge called. A girl in a white blouse rode a liver chestnut to the entrance.
“Do you want to watch each test?” Lexa whispered. “Or walk a few steps away and get out of the crowd?”
“Let’s move a little. Then we can watch and talk if we want.”
Lexa and I walked Honor and Whisper to the designated waiting spot that Mr. Conner had pointed out earlier. It was within hearing distance when the judges called our names, and close enough to watch the dressage tests.
“Much better,” I said. “Now I don’t feel like I’m in the arena.”
“Or feel trapped among the other riders, who are sure to start gossiping, I mean bashing each other, any second.” Lexa rolled her eyes.
We waited, talking on and off, as riders were called into the arena for their tests. I went between watching parts of tests and talking to Lexa. Some riders exited with frowns as soon as the judges couldn’t see. Some left with smiles. Others had blank expressions.
“Lexa Reed and Honor,” Mr. Conner called.
I jumped in the saddle at hearing my friend’s name.
“That’s you!” I said. “I mean, obviously!”
Lexa laughed. “It is me. Okay. Wish me luck!”
“Good luck! You’re going to kill it, Lex.”
With a parting smile, Lexa cued Honor forward. The strawberry roan gleamed—her mix of red and white hair had been washed and brushed until not a speck of dust was left. Lexa looked like a pro in her black helmet, a brick-red blouse, black breeches, and tall boots.
She halted Honor at the entrance. I crossed my fingers, wishing her a good ride. Lexa was not my competition today. The only rider I was competing with was myself.
Lexa walked Honor to the center of the arena, halted, and saluted the judges. As she moved through her test, gliding from marker to marker, my fingers uncrossed. Lexa didn’t need luck—she was brilliant. Honor’s circles were even, she changed gaits the second Lexa asked her to, and Lexa didn’t forget one movement of the test. She stopped Honor in the center, dipped her head again, and rode out of the arena.
I walked Whisper forward so we met before Lex reached our spot.
“That was gorgeous!” I said, high-fiving her.
Grinning, Lexa patted Honor’s neck. “Thanks! I think we did well for our first show of the season.”
“You did more than ‘well.’ I’m so proud of you. Your scores will be great.”
We watched the judge’s table, and I squinted to see if I could read any of their facial expressions to get a hint of how Lexa had done.
Mr. Conner took a sheet of paper from the judge at the end and raised the bullhorn to his mouth.
Lexa reached out and grasped my hand. We squeezed them tight.
“The score for Lexa Reed of Canterwood Crest Academy is . . . thirty-two points!”
“Yes!” I said. “Lex! That’s so low—it’s awesome! You barely made any mistakes.”
Lexa rubbed Honor’s neck. “Good job, girl. I’m so proud of you. And thanks, LT! I’m really—”
“Next, we have Lauren Towers on Whisper!” Mr. Conner’s voice boomed through the megaphone, cutting off Lexa.
“Now it’s you,” she said, smiling. “You’ve got this, Lauren. Go show off your horse!”
I stared at her. My mouth went dry. “I—I—”
Lexa locked eyes with me. “You are going to perform the test you know backward and forward. You’ll be exiting the arena wishing your test was longer. I know it!”
I don’t know if it was something she said, or strength from Whisper, or a combination of the two, but I smiled. A real smile.
“See you in a few,” I said, taking a breath.
I squeezed my legs against Whisper’s sides, and she walked toward the arena. She felt ready. The question was—was I?