Comeback (5 page)

One down!
I couldn't help but smile.

Six strides later, I lifted my seat out of the saddle and Whisper jumped over the second hedge. She landed, hooves far away from touching the greenery, and snorted. She tossed her head, gray mane flying. Whisper deserved to feel good, but I had to keep her focused. As a young, green horse, she needed a rider who paid attention and kept her on track.

We'd settled into a rhythm by the time the third, fourth, and fifth jumps were behind us. Whisper hadn't batted a curly eyelash at the two red-and-white verticals or the oxer made out of logs.

I kept my hands steady as we reached thin fence boards. Mr. Conner had made the course safe—all the jumps were
designed with material that would break or be knocked down if a horse didn't clear the obstacle. I rose into the air, and Whisper tucked her forelegs beneath her and propelled us over the jump with her strong hindquarters. Every muscle in her body was engaged—it made our ride feel
electric
.

I turned Whisper in a half circle and we started to canter up a slight incline.
Oops.
I started sliding backward in the saddle. The “slight incline” was a little steeper than I'd thought. Tightening my abs, I leaned forward and wrapped my fingers through Whisper's mane for extra support. She huffed, working hard. Her canter slowed a touch from earlier, and I let her so she didn't overexert herself.
Only a few more strides, girl!
I wanted to tell her. We reached the hilltop, and the field leveled out with the final jumps ahead of us.

We weren't
that
high up, but Mr. Conner and the other riders and horses looked small. It felt like a private session with Whisper, where we could focus on the final jumps without anyone watching us so closely.

Whisper took a vertical with bright yellow flowers in between the first and second pole. The ground turned a little soggier, and I slowed her before the next jump. Whisper snorted, tugging against the reins. She'd been
having fun cantering at her own pace, but we had to be more careful on the potentially slippery terrain. One jump to go!

I sat deep in the saddle until the final seconds before the oxer and then lifted out of the saddle. Whisper's takeoff was clean and she lifted into the air, her hooves making a slight suction-y sound against the grass.

We landed, and as I guided her away from the jump, readying to start our descent down, something felt
off
. One of her back hooves was striking the ground, but not making a sound like the others. Whisper's ears flicked back and forth; she was losing concentration because of whatever was going on.

Oh, no.

I eased her to a halt as fast as possible and dismounted. Mr. Conner was already making his way up the hill, while everyone else waited below.

I walked to Whisper's hindquarters and ran my hand down her left leg, squeezing above her fetlock. She offered me her hoof: bare.

“Lauren,” Mr. Conner said. “What happened?”

I gently put down Whisper's hoof and turned to Mr. Conner, who was standing at her head and holding the reins.

“She threw a shoe,” I said, trying to keep calm. “It's my fault. I looked at her hooves this afternoon and knew she was overdue for shoes. I should have asked to sit out when I realized we'd be riding over soft ground. I didn't even think about it.”

Mr. Conner put a hand on my shoulder. “Lots of horses, though it's not healthy for their hooves, go a long,
long
time without having their shoes replaced. I checked all the charts for horses who needed shoes, and I already had Whisper down for this week.”

“Thank you,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “But she's always used to being shod. What if she bruised her hoof when she cantered without a shoe?”

“Let me take a look,” Mr. Conner said. “I'm betting, though, that the softer ground played to your advantage today.”

I took the reins from Mr. Conner and stood by Whisper's head. She was breathy from finishing the course, and I rubbed her cheek. Looking up into her amber eyes, I offered a silent apology.

It felt like an eternity had passed before Mr. Conner released Whisper's leg and faced me. I flicked my tongue over my permanent bottom retainer—nervous habit.

“I don't see any hint of bruising or trauma to the
hoof,” he said, smiling. “You pulled her up the second you felt something was wrong. Had you kept going . . . well, we could be having a very different conversation.”

I let out a giant breath. “I'm so glad she's okay.”

Mr. Conner patted Whisper's neck and the gray, closing her eyes, leaned into his touch. “I'll make a note for the farrier to take an extra-close look at Whisper, but I don't foresee any different news.”

I nodded. “Thank you again, Mr. Conner.”

“Of course. Now, your lesson is over for today. Walk Whisper back to the stable and get her groomed. Go find one of the stable hands if you need help with anything until I'm finished here.”

Mr. Conner started back to the awaiting group, and I led Whisper downhill. I'd been on horses who'd thrown shoes before, and I'd never gotten
that
worried.

I glanced at Whisper. “That's what happens when it's
your
horse, huh?”

I stayed with Whisper until the rest of the group was ready to head to The Sweet Shoppe. It had become clear the girls had won when Khloe and Lexa, all smiles, found me and told me to keep my wallet in my bag.

Lauren Towers's Blog

*locked post for approved friends only*

6:23 p.m.: TGIF,
amis
! (K said I had to translate any French words I wrote because “not everyone's taking French, chica!”) She was right!
Amis
means “friends.” So . . .

It's finally Friday, and I had a free min to blog! KK and I are heading to C's for a sleepover soon. I've never been in her room, so I'm excited to see how it's decorated and what their tastes are. I could have asked Khloe, but I haven't. It's been more fun to try and guess. But I've been drawing a blank.

Guessing R took control over how the room looks, and the only guess I have is
très
sophisticated and expensive. You
know, one of those rooms where you're afraid to touch anything because it's worth a gazillion dollars and you don't want to break it. Or a room where everything's white from rugs to bedspreads and you sip soda in the doorway—too afraid to get an orange Slice stain on the rug.

I'm glad it'll be just our little group.

This week has been so crazy! Lessons, classes—busy every second! Sometimes I miss the pace of Yates, and I
always
feel the absence of my friends. It's been hard to keep in touch as much as I wish we could. We're all busy with our own stuff, but I never wanted that to get in the way of our friendships. They're so much more important than sports or debate team. More important than boys, too.

I'm rambling. Sorry! I didn't make this post public because I wanted to use my blog kind of like a journal for a minute.

There's this guy, D, who's on the riding team with me. (I know! I just wrote about friends being more important than guys, but . . .) T and I broke up almost six months ago and I still love him. As a friend.

Now that I've been at CCA a little while, I let my two major rules about Canterwood go out my Hawthorne window: Stay focused on school and work extra hard on riding.

I'm still doing both of those things! But I also said no boys. At least, not until I got used to everything here. I was keeping
my promise until I met D. Then I met C.H. (not C.B.) at The SS, and he made me really consider that I could go out with D, but still hold up my end of the bargain about grades and riding.

Besides, Canterwood is so . . . Canterwood. Would I ever know if I was “used” to things here? It changes by the minute, and I don't think that's going away. I have to keep up and have fun. I mean, I'm going to be thirteen (!!) on Halloween, and I don't want to waste any time.

Whoa, LOL. Thirteen sounds sooo cool. I've been wanting to be thirteen forever. I can't go into that—it's an entirely different post!

So I confess, I really, really like D. I could go on and on about his tropical-water blue eyes and dark hair, but ahhh!

No!

K will be out of the shower and ready to go to C's very soon.

The big thing on my mind is my bday. It's, like, six weeks away. I wonder if (a) D will come to my party and (b) if I'll get kissed.

Gotta run!! Just the thought of that will keep me online forever.

Xoxo

Posted by Lauren Towers

AN HOUR LATER KHLOE AND I HAD OVERNIGHT
bags packed and headed up to the second floor of Hawthorne to Clare's room. I'd never climbed the few stairs to the next level of dorm rooms. The second floor was laid out like the first, but it felt nice to be a story up. More like my room at home on the second floor.

“We're going to have
so
much fun,” Khloe said. She smiled, her lips extra shiny from the Laughing Lips Watermelon Glaze that had come in the mail today from Aerie (our new fave store). “OMG, if anyone deserves a sleepover—we all do! The only downer is that Cole can't come.”