something to think about.” She punctuated that sentence by dropping the brush she’d been using into the grooming bucket. “There. I’m done,” she announced. She unclipped Prancer from her cross-ties and led her to her stall. She checked that there was fresh hay and water and then latched the door behind her.
“I think I’d better get the envelope and the paper from Max and hurry on home,” Lisa said. “Sorry to dash off, but I’ve got some homework to do. I’ll talk to you guys this week, a lot, okay?”
“Okay,” Stevie said. “Good luck with the work you have to do.”
“Thanks. Bye.” And then she was gone.
“What was that all about?” Stevie asked.
“It’s about trouble,” Carole said. Stevie certainly agreed with her on that.
“What do you think she’s going to put down for her goals?”
Carole shook her head. “I don’t know, but unless a miracle happens in the next seven days, I know what her goal
ought
to be.”
“What’s that?”
“
Staying
on Prancer through five classes.”
Considering what they’d seen in practice, Stevie had to agree.
S TEVIE STARED AT the five blank pieces of paper in front of her. Homework was just about her least favorite thing in the whole world, and it seemed to her that what Max had asked his riders to do was homework. Still, it was also horsework, and anything to do with horses couldn’t be all bad.
To start with, she wrote the names of the five classes she’d be entering at the top of each of the pieces of paper: Fitting and Showing, Equitation, Pleasure, Trail, and Jumping.
She growled. That hadn’t inspired her at all. She picked up her pencil again and began chewing on the eraser. She had never understood why having little pieces of rubber in your mouth was supposed to helpyou think. She stopped chewing on the eraser and tried thinking about horses and horse shows. That seemed to help.
Fitting and Showing was basically a test of grooming skills. She was good at that. She was about the best in the stable at using a hoof pick, so that couldn’t be a goal. She sometimes got lazy when it came to getting all the tangles out of Topside’s mane. She jotted that down. “Four to go,” she told the wall of her room.
In Equitation, it seemed to her that Topside was so well trained, he was going to do most of the work. Still, if it looked as if she weren’t doing anything, she wouldn’t place. She knew that. In a way, the important thing in that class was going to be keeping up with Topside. That meant making her own movements as smooth and seamless as his. It also meant that she’d have a special opportunity to pay more attention to herself than to her horse. She wanted to work on the position of her hands and being sure that her legs remained supple while she gave Topside nearly invisible aids. She’d had trouble with that in the past, and she hoped she’d be able to do it right this time. She wrote that down. “Three to go.” She turned her attention to the paper marked “Pleasure.”
Carole made a face at the computer screen as she read the message that Cam had left for her.
…
I can’t believe I’m actually going to meet you at Briarwood! It seems like we’ve been writingnotes about horses for such a long time. Now we’ll get to talk instead of write. Isn’t that great?
“No,” Carole mumbled. Talking with Cam probably wouldn’t be any more fun than writing to her. The note went on:
We had class today. I’m sure you did, too, since I recall that you have class every Saturday. We won’t mind missing it next week, though, will we? Anyway, today Mr. Barclay was drilling us on show techniques. He says the judges look out for these incredibly small things—like if your tie is straight or if there’s a smudge on your boots. He’s going to have an inspection before the show starts, and if I know him, he’ll have extra shoe polish with him. He also drilled us on riding techniques. For the jumping, he had us going over
“I think I’d better get the envelope and the paper from Max and hurry on home,” Lisa said. “Sorry to dash off, but I’ve got some homework to do. I’ll talk to you guys this week, a lot, okay?”
“Okay,” Stevie said. “Good luck with the work you have to do.”
“Thanks. Bye.” And then she was gone.
“What was that all about?” Stevie asked.
“It’s about trouble,” Carole said. Stevie certainly agreed with her on that.
“What do you think she’s going to put down for her goals?”
Carole shook her head. “I don’t know, but unless a miracle happens in the next seven days, I know what her goal
ought
to be.”
“What’s that?”
“
Staying
on Prancer through five classes.”
Considering what they’d seen in practice, Stevie had to agree.
S TEVIE STARED AT the five blank pieces of paper in front of her. Homework was just about her least favorite thing in the whole world, and it seemed to her that what Max had asked his riders to do was homework. Still, it was also horsework, and anything to do with horses couldn’t be all bad.
To start with, she wrote the names of the five classes she’d be entering at the top of each of the pieces of paper: Fitting and Showing, Equitation, Pleasure, Trail, and Jumping.
She growled. That hadn’t inspired her at all. She picked up her pencil again and began chewing on the eraser. She had never understood why having little pieces of rubber in your mouth was supposed to helpyou think. She stopped chewing on the eraser and tried thinking about horses and horse shows. That seemed to help.
Fitting and Showing was basically a test of grooming skills. She was good at that. She was about the best in the stable at using a hoof pick, so that couldn’t be a goal. She sometimes got lazy when it came to getting all the tangles out of Topside’s mane. She jotted that down. “Four to go,” she told the wall of her room.
In Equitation, it seemed to her that Topside was so well trained, he was going to do most of the work. Still, if it looked as if she weren’t doing anything, she wouldn’t place. She knew that. In a way, the important thing in that class was going to be keeping up with Topside. That meant making her own movements as smooth and seamless as his. It also meant that she’d have a special opportunity to pay more attention to herself than to her horse. She wanted to work on the position of her hands and being sure that her legs remained supple while she gave Topside nearly invisible aids. She’d had trouble with that in the past, and she hoped she’d be able to do it right this time. She wrote that down. “Three to go.” She turned her attention to the paper marked “Pleasure.”
Carole made a face at the computer screen as she read the message that Cam had left for her.
…
I can’t believe I’m actually going to meet you at Briarwood! It seems like we’ve been writingnotes about horses for such a long time. Now we’ll get to talk instead of write. Isn’t that great?
“No,” Carole mumbled. Talking with Cam probably wouldn’t be any more fun than writing to her. The note went on:
We had class today. I’m sure you did, too, since I recall that you have class every Saturday. We won’t mind missing it next week, though, will we? Anyway, today Mr. Barclay was drilling us on show techniques. He says the judges look out for these incredibly small things—like if your tie is straight or if there’s a smudge on your boots. He’s going to have an inspection before the show starts, and if I know him, he’ll have extra shoe polish with him. He also drilled us on riding techniques. For the jumping, he had us going over
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