16 
16 Sasha
TUESDAY MORNING WAS A BUSTLE of activity in my house. We’d all gone to bed super late after getting caught up in Heather’s game. I’d been too wired after my confession to sleep. But having to drink two lattes instead of one was a small price to pay for all the fun I’d had last night.
All of the girls took turns in the bathroom. At one point, I was applying gloss and mascara almost cheek to cheek with Paige, while Heather sat on the edge of the bathtub and flat-ironed her hair. Finally I gave up on trying to squeeze into the bathroom. Pausing in the hallway, I updated my Chatter status.
SassySilver: 1st morning @ Safe Haven 4 Thoroughbreds! Can’t wait 2 c what we do! Mayb we’ll c @LaurBell & friends. 
#CanterwoodTakeOver
I hurried to grab a hair tie from my room. I passed by the living room. Eric and Jacob, already dressed and looking as if they’d been ready for hours, sat on the couch. They were on their phones and talking. I caught a snippet of “Internet game” and shook my head.
“You guys are lucky,” I said, putting my hands on my hips.
“How so?” Eric asked, looking up. An amused smile was on his lips.
“You can roll out of bed five minutes before you have to be somewhere and you’re ready. You get dressed, run your fingers through your hair, brush your teeth—done.”
“Wow. So you know our routines, huh?” Jacob asked. He traded grins with Eric. “You forgot that we use deodorant, too.”
“Oh, wow,” I said, using Jacob’s word from earlier. “Sorry, that added seven seconds to your time. You have no idea what it’s like in the bathroom right now. Six girls. One bathroom. Hair. Makeup. Clothes. Like I said, lucky.”
I couldn’t help but smile at Jacob as I started walking to my room. He loves me! I couldn’t help chanting that in my head.
“Want us to get a camera in there and start filming?” Eric asked, stopping me. “It can be a new reality show. Six girls,” he said in a TV commercial voice. “One bathroom. Who will come out alive? Find out on the next episode of Girls Can’t Share: Death by Hair . . .” Eric paused. He looked at me. “Hair twirler tool? Curly hair wand?”
I folded my arms and jutted out a hip. “Can I help you? Better question: Should I help you?”
Eric hung his head. “I already totally blew my line.”
I smiled sweetly. “It’s okay, Eric. You’re just a boy. What you were looking for, BTW, was ‘curling iron.’ See you in a bit!”
I exited the room, leaving both guys mumbling something about “too many girls everywhere,” and I giggled to myself.
Mom dropped us off at the front of Safe Haven at a few minutes to ten. The small paved parking lot was less than half full. An old red Ford pickup truck idled in its spot. Through the window, I watched a woman in the driver’s seat pull on leather gloves and a gray beanie and pick up a mug of something that steamed up the glass.
It was barely forty degrees outside, and my teeth were chattering a little after just getting out of the warm car. At least there was no wind and not a chance of snow all week. I was glad I’d layered my clothes and worn tights under my breeches. Our name tags hung around our necks—I would have forgotten mine if it hadn’t been for Paige this morning. Each of us carried a helmet, too. I’d loaned two of mine to Paige and Jacob.
“Do you think there aren’t a lot of adults on our shift?” Callie asked. “Or maybe most of the volunteers are dropped off like us?”
Alison shook her head and shrugged. She’d braided her hair into a purposely messy fishtail braid that hung over her right shoulder. This morning, just like me, she’d put on breeches, a thermal shirt, and an extra-heavy wool sweater. “I don’t know, but this doesn’t look good to me. I understand that multiple shifts are scheduled and sure, a lot of riders are dropped off, but that parking lot is scary empty.” Alison chewed her thumbnail. “What if some of the volunteers quit already?”
“Then we’ll just have to make up for them,” Eric said, looping a friendly arm through Alison’s.
“He’s right,” Jacob said. “We’re not helping by standing here and worrying. Let’s get inside and see what we can do.”
Just when my heartbeat had started thumping way too fast over the thought of the Safe Haven adopt-a-thon going wrong, Jacob’s words managed to calm me down. That and the swipe of Tarina Tarantino lip gloss in Neon Vanity that I applied. The bright tinted gloss made me happy just looking at the tube.
We left the parking lot and started for the entrance of the stable. The barn was older and more worn than Canterwood’s stable. The main parts of the stable were painted an espresso brown, and the off-white trim amped up the warmth factor. The front sliding double doors were open and someone—there was a star on the name tag, so he had to be a coordinator—led two chestnut mares past us and toward a turnout pasture.
“Need any help this morning?” an older girl, also with a star on her name tag, asked as she approached us.
“Yes, we do,” I said. “I’m Sasha Silver and these are my friends. We’re here for our shift and we have our list of duties, but—” I looked at Heather.
“We wanted to double-check with someone in charge to make sure we were headed in the right direction,” Heather finished.
“Sure, no problem! I’m Quinn, by the way.” She stuck out her hand to each of us. “I’ve been with Safe Haven for years. It’s the best. Thank you all so much for volunteering.”
“We’re so happy you had room for us,” Paige said. “Even people like me, who aren’t experienced with horses.”
Quinn shook her head, her long black ponytail swishing. She was dressed in well-worn fawn breeches and paddock boots, and the white helmet under her arm had dozens of scrapes. “We need all the help we can get,” she said. “The holiday adopt-a-thon requires a lot of people who can do all sorts of things.”
“But orientation was packed,” Paige said. “Won’t all of those people be enough?”
Quinn gave P a half smile. “It would—if they all came back. We have a high dropout rate with the volunteers. I think a lot of them expect to ride a racehorse and that’s it. That’s what one volunteer said last year, anyway. A lot of people don’t come back once they see how much work actually needs to be done.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Brit said, pressing her lips into a line.
Quinn put a hand to her cheek. “Oh, jeez. I hope I didn’t scare you guys off with that info!”
We all shook our heads.
“No way,” Eric said. “We’re staying.”
I nodded. “We’ll be here for every shift and more if we can.”
“You all are awesome,” Quinn said. “You seem a lot like me when I was your age. I got a degree in law just so I could help fight for the rights of horses like these. I graduated last summer, and I volunteer here almost every minute I’m not at work.”
“That’s so cool,” Heather said. I looked over and almost did a double take. Heather Fox’s eyes were wide with admiration. She almost looked . . . shy. Like she had a zillion questions for Quinn but was too intimidated to ask. Heather. Fox. I’d never seen her like this.
Quinn smiled. “Show me your schedule and I’ll put you to work.”
I traded smiles with my friends as Jacob handed Quinn our schedule. We were from Canterwood—“work” wasn’t something we were afraid of.