chapter 35

distractions

The last week of camp was the longest, six days instead of five. It would end on Saturday, after the show.

All the campers would ride in it, but few would win ribbons, Tish warned. Good riders and fine horses from miles around competed at this show. The school ponies excelled at teaching, not showing. Still, each year one or two campers did get ribbons.

But ribbons weren’t the point, said Tish. The point was learning. Getting ready to compete, they would develop new skills and perfect the ones they already had. They would sit better, post better, stop better, jump better. That was the real prize, not a little piece of silk ribbon.

They all agreed. Of course, it was all about learning. But the word ribbon was on everyone’s lips, and it made things happen. Steve actually got Nubbin to canter. Lori learned to get on Banner by herself. Then she learned to do it gracefully. Amber was able to slow Radish down sometimes. When she couldn’t, she was able to keep a serene, I’m-doing-this-on-purpose expression on her face as he trotted pell-mell around the ring.

Rae worked hardest of all. She and Princess practiced jumping. They practiced show-ring maneuvers—the correct way to reverse directions, the proper way to stand in a lineup. Princess knew them all by heart, but they were new to Rae.

Most of all they practiced being passed by other ponies. “The judge will really take off points for those faces she makes,” Tish said. “We should be able to train her out of it. It seems like a habit more than anything else at this point.”

She had Amber ride Radish past Rae and Princess again and again. As Princess turned her head, Rae was supposed to hold the reins firmly, so Princess would bump against the bit. “You aren’t pulling her mouth,” Tish said. “She’s pulling. She’s smart enough to figure it out.”

Rae was rather wimpy about holding the reins firm. None-theless, Princess did figure it out. Fine. She didn’t need to whip her whole head around to make a dragon face. She could flatten her ears, roll her eyes, and show her teeth, while keeping her neck in a straight line.

“It’s…somewhat better,” Tish said. “Keep her going at a good brisk clip. Maybe nobody will pass you. Hope is everything when it comes to shows. And a sense of humor.”

The other campers were dreaming up what they’d do for costume class. Steve wanted to turn Nubbin into a couch. Amber brought in large, leafy radish tops made out of green paper to turn Radish into his namesake vegetable. Other kids had other ideas, some that would even work.

This was one of those times when Rae felt like an outsider. She was too serious. She’d focused completely on Princess, not at all on the other kids, and now she couldn’t think of a single thing she would want to turn Princess into. Just leading her into the ring, her unadorned self, with a sign that said Most Beautiful Pony—that wasn’t a costume.

“Not everybody goes in costume,” Tish reassured her. “Just like not everybody goes in the jumping class—though Steve is determined to try! But I want you to enter that if you feel like it, Rae. You have everything to learn about making it look pretty, but for a jumping class, all you need is a fast, clean round. Are you up for that?”

For jumping on Princess? Rae didn’t have the words for how up for it she was. She could only nod.

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At home Rae didn’t talk much. She thought about Princess, and the end of camp, and…then what? Back to normal? That was impossible. She was a different person now, somebody whose days had been filled, for almost three weeks, with ponies. A pony. The pony. How could she go back to the same life after that?

And how could Princess? She had been a lesson pony, but that hadn’t suited her. So what next? Back to Highover? Tish had said the ponies still lived there, now managed by someone the owner’s relative had hired. Princess could be returned to the farm, perhaps to a tiny grassy paddock like she had at Tish’s.

And if that was all the future held for her, why couldn’t she come here, to the tiny grassy area in Rae’s own backyard?

She tried not to ask herself that. There had always been a reason before, every time she’d thought that now, or soon, they would be able to manage a pony. The truck broke. The roof needed repairs. But she did have a bank account these days, and a business. She should ask…

She couldn’t make herself. The answer would probably be no, and she would still have the last few days of camp to get through, and the show. Better to wait, keep the hope tiny and hidden, and when camp was over bring it out and see if it survived.

But since she was determined not to say what was on her mind, she hardly said anything. Dad and Gammer kept looking at her with worried expressions, and going off to discuss something privately. “Not if,” she heard Gammer say once. “How?”

Good question. How would Rae make herself ask? How would she be able to endure the answer? How could she ever love any pony as much as she loved Princess? She lay awake for hours every night, trying not to wonder.

The long week, the last week, came to an end with one final jumping lesson Friday morning. Tish focused on controlling the approach. That wasn’t easy. “Clearly, jumping is one thing Princess wasn’t trained to do,” Tish said. “She’s working on raw talent and enthusiasm. Do you love it as much as she does?”

Rae nodded. “It’s scary, but—” But there came a moment when they were flying, just the two of them, when Princess’s hoofbeats went silent and Rae folded down over her neck, stretching her hands forward. They were one, with no choices to make. Then Princess’s hooves touched down, and Rae had to guide her again, to the next jump. Yes, she loved that as much as Princess did, and the lesson seemed far too short.

Friday afternoon the campers washed their ponies, cleaned tack, and chose riding coats from Tish’s secondhand collection. Then Tish handed around entry forms and explained what classes they could go in: for Rae and Princess there were five—halter, equitation, pleasure, trail, and jumping.

“Are we good enough for jumping?” Rae asked.

“For this class you are,” Tish said. “All you have to do is get over the fences without any refusals or knocked-down rails. Everybody who has a clear round goes in the jump-off, and that’s judged on speed.”

“We made the jump-off last year,” Amber said. “It was a blast!”

“It’s a very popular class,” Tish said. “There’s always a big crowd for jumping. Any questions on your forms?” She leaned over Rae’s shoulder. “I’m not Princess’s owner, Rae. Cross my name out and put Roland McDermott.”

Roland McDermott. That was the old man who owned Highover, the one who got sick. “Is he—” Still alive, Rae wanted to ask.

“He’s getting better, from what I hear. He’s well enough that his niece finally told him what happened to the ponies. She’d kept that from him until now.”

He must feel terrible, Rae thought, as she printed his name on her entry form. It hadn’t been his fault, except that he trusted the wrong people. He would blame himself for that. She knew she would. It was good that he was getting better, though.

Better enough to want his pony back?

Now it was time to feed; the last feeding. This was the last day she would carry the tiny amount of grain into Princess’s stall, the last day she would fill the hay net—unless she dared to ask. Even thinking of it made her heart pound. The thing about asking was, you got an answer. Rae leaned against Princess’s side, breathing in her clean scent, listening to her munch hay. She never wanted to move again.

But Tish wanted them all to gather. When everyone was at the picnic tables, she made a little speech. Visualize success, she suggested. Not ribbons—those were up to someone else’s judgment. Success was up to each of them. Staying calm, paying attention to details, being safe—those were all things they could control, and if they managed all or most of them, they would have something to be proud of tomorrow.

“So get a good night’s sleep,” Tish finished. “Don’t let dis-tractions in—most of them will keep. You’ve all worked hard and so have the ponies. Tomorrow is your chance to use what you’ve learned. Not for a ribbon. For these animals. Most of them come from humble origins. They won’t be the most beautiful ponies at the show. But do them proud, and they’ll do the same for you.”

Princess didn’t come from humble origins, Rae thought, and she would be the most beautiful pony—though her mane still stuck straight up in places, and she’d have to wear a red ribbon in her tail, and there was the scar…no, Tish was right. This was no time for distractions—so don’t think about camp ending. Don’t think about Sunday, and next week, and asking Dad, and his answer. Focus.

Rae hardly said a word on the way home. She ate supper—without tasting it—and went upstairs to get her clothes ready. She borrowed a raggy old shirt of Dad’s to keep her good things clean, laid out the jacket from Tish’s collection, and brought out the one pair of Mom’s riding pants that finally, nearly, fit. They were a dark brick-orange, not a fashionable color. Mom must have bought them on closeout and she’d worn them a lot, but they were neatly mended. The belt held them in place even though they were a tiny bit too big.

Rae put everything in a pile near the door, beside her riding boots and helmet. She took a shower, got into pajamas, and headed for bed. Get a good night’s sleep. Ha! Passing the window, she decided not to look out. This was no time to try to see Princess out there. Don’t let distractions—

But who was that, moving around in the moonlight? Dad. He stood staring at the grassy area, the paddock place, scratch-ing his chin. Now he started pacing it off, walking in short steps and counting to himself. But why was he measuring it? He would never build anything there, not even a garden bed. He had promised. It was the pony paddock—

It was the pony paddock.

Like fireworks, the tingling birthday feeling exploded inside Rae. Not the realistic feeling of recent birthdays; this was the feeling from long-ago birthdays when she’d believed, truly believed, that this could be the year. She remembered Gammer’s long talk with Tish last weekend, how Tish had nodded so approvingly when she saw the barn and backyard. Gammer saying, “Not if. How.”

Rae felt her heart start to gallop. It all added up. The best thing for Princess, the best thing for her—

She turned in a circle, almost dizzy, and saw the pile of riding clothes. Don’t let distraction in.

This was the biggest distraction of all. She owed it to Princess to go to bed, and go to sleep.