21 

FOUR, THREE, TWO …

“HERE WE ARE,” MIKE SAID, PULLING THE trailer onto the show grounds. There were hundreds of horses and riders everywhere—I’d never seen so many. Because it was a schooling show, riders of all age group and levels of riding had come to prep for show season. Mike pulled the trailer up to an empty parking spot and turned off the ignition. He got out of the truck, heading for the back to unload the horses.

“There are so many riders,” I said, my voice squeaky.

Heather looked around Brit and glared at me. “Okay. Look. Half of them are, like, what? Under seven? The other half beginner and intermediate with very few YENT riders. You’ve probably seen one in this entire crowd. So shut up and get out of the truck.”

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled. But I was secretly glad for her not-so-scientific breakdown of the competition.

Brit, Heather, and I got our horses and headed to open stalls to groom and tack them up.

The three of us were ready in record time, and I pulled off my jacket and sweat pants. I looped Charm’s reins around my arm and sat on an empty tack trunk, swapping my paddock boots for my show boots.

Mr. Conner met Heather, Brit, and me near the exit of the stable. “Take your time walking the course. Then, warm up your horses and then we’ll head to the show jumping arena,” he said. “The three of you have your jumping class first.”

We all looked at each other. No one had known who was doing what. It hadn’t exactly been a secret—but it had been unspoken.

“Let’s go, competition,” Heather said.

Making silly faces behind her back, Brit and I followed the signs to the show jumping arena. We were all riding for Canterwood, but in the arena, it was every girl for herself.

An hour and a half later it was show time. Mom and Dad had already called me twice, and I’d gotten good luck texts from Paige and Jacob. But now, my mind was all about the ride in front of me. Three other YENT riders, including Heather, had already gone. Heather and Aristocrat had pulled off a clear round and were holding the top spot. Everyone had knocked a rail except for her. Unless Brit or I went clear, she’d win.

“Up next, we have number three, Sasha Silver, on Charm,” the announcer said. “Sasha is riding for Canterwood Crest Academy.”

Charm shifted under me, ready to go.

I tried to stay loose in the saddle, waiting for the starting bell to go off.

Diiing! I didn’t let Charm enter the ring the second he heard the bell. I waited a few more seconds, then let him into a canter. When I’d walked the course, I hadn’t noticed anything too tricky about the seven jumps. It was a short course and, going with the theme of the show, it was all about easing the rider back into competition.

Charm’s canter was even as he moved over the first vertical with black and white poles. He cleared it easily, and we cantered six strides toward an oxer. I gave Charm extra rein to clear the spread and he did without a problem. Wind whooshed in my ears as we cantered forward, Charm’s ears pointing forward as he started to get excited.

Nope, keep him focused! I told myself. I did a half halt and got his attention back on me. We soared over another vertical with red poles and headed for a double combination. Charm leaped the first part of the jump, took a stride and then was airborne again over the second half. He cleared it with room to spare.

We made a sweeping turn around the giant arena, passing what felt like a thousand faces in the crowd. I gazed back between Charm’s ears and watched as we approached the next jump—a faux stone wall. Charm rocked back on his haunches, then pushed up off the ground over the fake stone. I loved the feeling of being in the air, and I couldn’t hold back my smile when we reached the ground.

Two left, I told myself. Two! Left!

The next two verticals were higher than any others on the course. I held my breath as I pointed Charm at the next-to-last vertical—a kind of scary-looking one with polka dots painted on it. But Charm didn’t slow. He leaped high into the air and landed on the other side without coming close to touching it.

We were strides away from the final jump, and I started counting strides. Five, four, three, two, one … no!

Charm rushed forward and took off a second too early. Caught off guard, I couldn’t slow him. His front hooves clipped the top rail and it tumbled to the ground.

Disappointment surged through me, but I didn’t let it show.

“Good job, boy,” I said. And I meant it, even if I was upset at myself for not paying enough attention.

But I wasn’t going to beat myself up about it. The show was over and I had plenty of time between now and the next show to practice.

“Good job, Silver,” Heather said as I rode over by her.

“Thanks.”

I dismounted and walked Charm in circles. Brit was next and I was excited to see her ride. As I walked Charm, the sadness I felt about knocking the rail disappeared. It was a schooling show, and we’d both learned from it.

I halted Charm as Brit approached the entrance. I crossed my fingers for her, wanting her to do well, but torn at the same time. If she had a clear round, she’d go to a jump-off with Heather and my current standing of third place would be knocked to fourth.

But we were all a team and I wanted her to do well.

“Our final rider for this class is Brit Chan on Apollo,” the announcer said. “Brit is riding for Canterwood Crest Academy.”

Brit sat still waiting for the bell. It dinged and she moved Apollo into a canter. The gelding moved toward the first jump, and I watched him carefully, just now seeing something was off.

“Is he—,” I started to say.

“He’s favoring his left foreleg,” Heather said. “Oh, God.”

Brit didn’t feel it yet—she would have pulled him up if she did—but if she kept jumping him, Apollo could sustain a serious injury.

“Mr. Conner!” I called over to him. But he was already headed for the officials.

Brit and Apollo launched into the air, and I felt Heather grab my arm.

I could barely watch.

Apollo cleared the rail, looking gorgeous, with his mane and tail flowing as he flew over the jump. He hit the ground and looked as if he landed strong, then he wobbled, almost going down on his knees.

“Omigod,” Heather and I said at the same time.

Brit tipped forward, losing a stirrup. But she managed to keep her seat. Apollo, loving Brit too much to quit, tried to keep cantering forward. He tossed his head, ignoring Brit’s cue to stop and cantered three strides—hobbling on three legs.

Brit tugged on the reins and, finally, Apollo listened. He wasn’t even at a complete stop when Brit flung herself out of the saddle and onto the ground to hold him still. Mr. Conner and an emergency veterinarian jogged toward them and a sobbing Brit buried her face in Apollo’s mane.

I didn’t hear the announcer or the crowd, I yanked my arm from Heather’s grasp and ran toward Brit. Guilt almost knocked me over—if only I’d said something when I’d first noticed what I thought was lameness. None of this would be happening now.

“Brit,” I said. “He’s going to be fine.”

Brit grabbed me and cried on my shoulder.

“He’s going to be okay,” Mr. Conner said. “Let’s step back so the vet can examine him.”

I held Brit’s hand and Heather appeared beside her as we watched the vet test Apollo’s hoof with tongs. The horse tried to move sideways when the vet pressed on a certain spot.

“What’s wrong with him?” Brit asked. “Is he going to be okay? Please, please tell me he’s okay.”

The vet turned to us, while gently placing Apollo’s hoof on the ground. “He’s going to be absolutely fine. It’s a bruised hoof, and with rest and icing, it will heal. You did an excellent job in pulling him up before he could seriously injure himself.”

Brit ran over and hugged Apollo’s neck.

“Sasha, you and Heather take Brit back to school,” Mr. Conner said. “Mike will drive you. We’ll get Apollo bandaged for the ride home, and Doug will take care of Charm and Aristocrat.”

“Okay,” I said.

“No,” Brit said. “I’m not leaving without him. I can’t go.”

“Brit,” I said. “He’ll be right behind us. Let’s go back to school, get out of our show clothes, and then we’ll be waiting for him when he gets home. Okay?”

“It’s the best thing,” Heather said. “The vet can work faster without the owner there—trust me. Apollo will be back in his stall within an hour and then you can stay there with him all day.”

Brit wiped tears off her pale face. She stared at me, and when I nodded, finally said, “Okay.”

With an arm around her shoulders, I led Brit back to the truck with Heather by my side.