it.
Then when she was seventeen, a rich old man
would be watching her training one day and he would
tell her that he had a beautiful warmblood stallion
worth a million dollars, and he wanted Shelby to ride
him in the Olympics. 'He deserves the best,' the old
man would say. Shelby would talk it over with her
friends, and three of them would have received similar
offers, including the boy, except their horses wouldn't
be quite as good.
They would make a pact to only go in the team
events so that they wouldn't have to compete against
each other, because their friendship was more important
than anything in the world.
The team would win gold, of course, and afterwards
they would be asked to do ads for apple sauce
and laundry detergents.
By the time she reached the Pony Club grounds
Brat was quite warm, and not limping in the slightest.
Her arrival attracted a bit of attention. Hayley and
Erin were sitting on the picnic seats with some of the
other girls, and they all turned as she and Brat walked
up the road.
A few of the adults congregated at the door of the
clubhouse to watch her ride past. One of them was
Calvin Protheroe himself, nursing a cup of coffee. He
was wearing real leather top-boots like a professional.
Shelby touched her hat as she rode past the clubhouse
and Mr Protheroe smiled.
Shelby felt a little murmur of disquiet as they lined
up for parade. With all the excitement this morning,
she had forgotten to check that Brat was still properly
brown. What if she had rubbed during the night and
some of her boot polish had come off? From Brat's
back, Shelby couldn't tell what state the pony's face
was in.
Shelby watched Mrs Crook escort Mr Protheroe
down to the arena. Shelby groaned. Mrs Crook was
such a stickler for cleanliness.
When it was Shelby's turn for inspection, she felt
her pulse rise. Mrs Crook frowned as she looked over
Shelby and her gear.
'What happened to your face?' she asked.
Shelby put her hand to her cheek and remembered.
'Oh. Just a bit of wire.'
Mrs Crook chastised her. 'Your boots are a mess.
Don't you ever polish them?'
Shelby peered down. 'Yes, it's just that they're old.'
'Old, my eye,' said Mrs Crook. 'You should invest
in a bit of boot polish, young lady. It would make a
world of difference.'
Shelby nodded. Calvin Protheroe didn't say anything
at all. He just scanned Brat for a moment and then
smiled again.
After the parade, the members were divided into two
groups. Group B, mostly younger children on led ponies,
moved around to the flat grassy area behind the clubhouse.
They were to go over poles under the supervision
of Mrs Hockings, who was wearing, as she always did,
a pair of lemon-coloured jodhpurs almost up to her
underarms, with her jumper tucked in. Shelby didn't
know why she wore them, since she never actually rode.
Group A, to which Shelby found herself elevated,
moved in single file into the arena.
Just as she reached the gate Mrs Hockings stepped
forward, blocking her path.
'Did you remember to bring your membership fees
today?' she asked.
'Oh.' She hadn't even thought about it. 'No,
I forgot.'
'Well, I'm sorry, Shelby, but you'll have to sit this
one out.'
Shelby looked around desperately at the other
parents. This couldn't be happening. One day was
all she was asking for. Erin's mother stepped forward.
'Let her go, Joy. I'm sure she'll remember next week,
won't you, Shelby?'
Shelby nodded. 'Yes, I promise.'
Mrs Hockings sniffed and folded her arms. 'I'll
let it go this time, but that's it. This isn't a charity,
you know.'
'Of course, Mrs Hockings, I understand.'
Shelby joined the others in the ring. She could
hardly keep from grinning. It was so good to finally be
where she belonged. She looked over at the edge of the
arena where the parents were lined up. Erin's mum
gave her the thumbs-up sign and Shelby responded
with a little wave.
Calvin Protheroe had them all walk around in a
circle, and then move into a trot. He made a few
comments here and there
Then when she was seventeen, a rich old man
would be watching her training one day and he would
tell her that he had a beautiful warmblood stallion
worth a million dollars, and he wanted Shelby to ride
him in the Olympics. 'He deserves the best,' the old
man would say. Shelby would talk it over with her
friends, and three of them would have received similar
offers, including the boy, except their horses wouldn't
be quite as good.
They would make a pact to only go in the team
events so that they wouldn't have to compete against
each other, because their friendship was more important
than anything in the world.
The team would win gold, of course, and afterwards
they would be asked to do ads for apple sauce
and laundry detergents.
By the time she reached the Pony Club grounds
Brat was quite warm, and not limping in the slightest.
Her arrival attracted a bit of attention. Hayley and
Erin were sitting on the picnic seats with some of the
other girls, and they all turned as she and Brat walked
up the road.
A few of the adults congregated at the door of the
clubhouse to watch her ride past. One of them was
Calvin Protheroe himself, nursing a cup of coffee. He
was wearing real leather top-boots like a professional.
Shelby touched her hat as she rode past the clubhouse
and Mr Protheroe smiled.
Shelby felt a little murmur of disquiet as they lined
up for parade. With all the excitement this morning,
she had forgotten to check that Brat was still properly
brown. What if she had rubbed during the night and
some of her boot polish had come off? From Brat's
back, Shelby couldn't tell what state the pony's face
was in.
Shelby watched Mrs Crook escort Mr Protheroe
down to the arena. Shelby groaned. Mrs Crook was
such a stickler for cleanliness.
When it was Shelby's turn for inspection, she felt
her pulse rise. Mrs Crook frowned as she looked over
Shelby and her gear.
'What happened to your face?' she asked.
Shelby put her hand to her cheek and remembered.
'Oh. Just a bit of wire.'
Mrs Crook chastised her. 'Your boots are a mess.
Don't you ever polish them?'
Shelby peered down. 'Yes, it's just that they're old.'
'Old, my eye,' said Mrs Crook. 'You should invest
in a bit of boot polish, young lady. It would make a
world of difference.'
Shelby nodded. Calvin Protheroe didn't say anything
at all. He just scanned Brat for a moment and then
smiled again.
After the parade, the members were divided into two
groups. Group B, mostly younger children on led ponies,
moved around to the flat grassy area behind the clubhouse.
They were to go over poles under the supervision
of Mrs Hockings, who was wearing, as she always did,
a pair of lemon-coloured jodhpurs almost up to her
underarms, with her jumper tucked in. Shelby didn't
know why she wore them, since she never actually rode.
Group A, to which Shelby found herself elevated,
moved in single file into the arena.
Just as she reached the gate Mrs Hockings stepped
forward, blocking her path.
'Did you remember to bring your membership fees
today?' she asked.
'Oh.' She hadn't even thought about it. 'No,
I forgot.'
'Well, I'm sorry, Shelby, but you'll have to sit this
one out.'
Shelby looked around desperately at the other
parents. This couldn't be happening. One day was
all she was asking for. Erin's mother stepped forward.
'Let her go, Joy. I'm sure she'll remember next week,
won't you, Shelby?'
Shelby nodded. 'Yes, I promise.'
Mrs Hockings sniffed and folded her arms. 'I'll
let it go this time, but that's it. This isn't a charity,
you know.'
'Of course, Mrs Hockings, I understand.'
Shelby joined the others in the ring. She could
hardly keep from grinning. It was so good to finally be
where she belonged. She looked over at the edge of the
arena where the parents were lined up. Erin's mum
gave her the thumbs-up sign and Shelby responded
with a little wave.
Calvin Protheroe had them all walk around in a
circle, and then move into a trot. He made a few
comments here and there
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