Blue Ribbon Summer (2 page)

Brooke had loved horses and ponies for as long as she could remember. She'd started riding at age five on the neighbors' gentle, patient draft horses, and had taken weekly riding lessons the summer she was seven, though somehow there hadn't seemed to be enough time or money to continue after the twins came along. Brooke had dreamed of her own pony for so long that when her parents had finally agreed to let her use her saved-up allowance and birthday money to buy one at the Chincoteague pony auction, Brooke had barely dared to believe it.

Actually, Foxy hadn't been her first choice. Brooke had hoped to find a pinto like the famous Misty. She'd stayed at the pony pens long after her parents had lost interest and wandered off to find something to eat, looking over each spindly-legged foal and taking notes to help herself remember which were her favorites. She'd spotted a sweet-faced bay filly with markings similar to Misty's,
and a little buckskin colt with bold white splashes on both sides. Those had been her favorites, though Brooke had also picked out two or three other cute spotted foals.

Then the pony auction had started. When the bay filly's turn came, Brooke never even got the chance to bid. The opening bid was double the total amount she had to spend. Within seconds, other bidders had jumped in, and Brooke didn't even hear the final price.

“Never mind, sweetie,” her mother had said. “You can try for the next one.”

But the buckskin colt had sold for triple Brooke's top price, and the others for more than that. Even the solid-colored foals were more expensive than she could afford.

Finally there were only a few young ponies left. One of them was a gangly yearling filly that Brooke had barely noticed in the pens, a chestnut with a lighter mane and tail. She didn't fit Brooke's idea of the perfect Chincoteague pony. But she had a soft eye and a calm temperament, and at that moment, that had been enough for Brooke to raise her hand when the auctioneer called for bids. Brooke had never regretted ending up with Foxy—or forgotten the
way her stepfather had kicked in an extra hundred dollars at the last minute so Brooke could buy her.

Brooke smiled as she thought back to that exciting day, even as she continued to scan the rest of the new entries on the Pony Post.

[NINA]
What are you and Cloudy up to now that the Snack & Swim is over? And how about the rest of you? Haley, Brooke?

[MADDIE]
Back to reg. lessons. Ms. Emerson says we're going to start doing some jumping gymnastics. Should be fun! I love jumping, and so does Cloudy!!

[NINA]
Cool! I just started doing more jumping too, mostly b/c I found out my barn is having a show this fall. There's going to be a costume class too! Can't wait to think of ideas for that!!

[HALEY]
Excellent! What other classes will u enter?

[NINA]
Not sure yet—my instructor says we'll figure it out by the end of the summer. What about u, Haley? Got any events coming up or anything?

[HALEY]
Wings and I have big plans for this summer. I have almost enough $ saved up for another lesson w/ my XC coach.

[MADDIE]
XC? That's cross-country, right? Like jumping over big giant logs and other scary stuff like that?

[HALEY]
LOL! It's not that scary—it's fun! U should try it sometime . . .

Brooke scanned the rest of the entries. Nina and Maddie asked Haley more questions about eventing, then added more about their own lessons. They all had such big plans for themselves and their ponies for the summer!

And what plans do I have?
Brooke wondered, nibbling
at her toast, which had gone cold as she read. Nothing. Just riding around the neighborhood trying not to get sunburned or eaten alive by mosquitoes and blackflies. Big whoop.

She sighed. It wasn't as if she had much choice. Lessons and shows cost money, and Brooke never seemed to have enough of that. She'd recently spent everything she'd saved up from her allowance and the past couple months of odd jobs—washing cars at the lot, feeding the neighbors' drafts when they went out of town, the occasional babysitting gig—on fly spray and horse treats, a new hoofpick to replace the one she'd lost somehow and a new halter to replace the one Foxy had broken. There never seemed to be an end to the expenses a pony could run up!

Still, Brooke knew she should stop feeling sorry for herself. She was lucky to have a pony at all. She was lucky her parents had helped her buy Foxy, and that they paid for the pony's basic needs, even if her stepfather still grumbled every time he swiped his credit card at the feed store or wrote a check to the farrier who trimmed Foxy's hooves.

She skimmed her friends' posts again. Their summer
plans sounded so exciting. But why should they have all the fun? Even if Brooke and Foxy wouldn't be showing—or even taking lessons—anytime soon, that didn't mean they couldn't train as if they were. Right?

Brooke's mood brightened as she turned the idea over in her head. She owned a whole shelf full of books about horses and riding, and there were more in the library, not to mention plenty of videos online. She'd done most of Foxy's training herself so far, with lots of research and advice from her neighbors and others. And Foxy was five now—old enough to do anything Brooke wanted to do with her. So why not get more serious about their training? It would be fun!

“Thanks, guys,” Brooke murmured, closing the Pony Post page. She'd wait and update her friends later. Right now she was eager to head back out to the barn and get started on her own big plans.

Brooke dropped her dishes in the sink, then went back outside. It was hotter already, and the drone of insects filled the air. Brooke grabbed Foxy's halter as she entered
through the people part of the barn, then headed out into the pasture. Foxy was grazing in her favorite spot right across the fence from the draft horses' shade tree. She lifted her head when Brooke called her, then ambled over to meet her owner.

“Hey, girl,” Brooke whispered, running her hand up the pony's sleek reddish-brown neck to scratch her favorite spot. “Ready to become a show horse?”

Foxy curled her neck, her lower lip flopping with pleasure as she leaned into the scratch. After a moment Brooke slid the halter onto Foxy's head, then led her over to the hitching ring in the run-in stall.

“Be right back,” Brooke said, giving the mare a pat. She hurried back into the people part of the barn. She kept her grooming tools in a bucket that had held Foxy's water for the first few months Brooke had owned her. That winter, the bucket had cracked in the first hard freeze, and Brooke had had to beg her parents for the money to replace it with a rubber one. But the plastic one still worked fine to hold her grooming stuff.

Soon she was hard at work brushing the dirt out of Foxy's coat and picking burrs and twigs out of her mane and tail. By the time the mare was halfway clean, Brooke was sweaty and panting as if she'd just run halfway to Salisbury. The thought of lugging her saddle out of the barn and tacking up made her want to lie down and take a nap in the shade.

“Maybe it's too hot to start our training right now,” she told Foxy, who had one hind foot cocked and appeared to be half asleep. Brooke glanced down at herself, realizing something else. “Besides, I forgot to change clothes.”

She'd ridden countless times in her current outfit of shorts and tennis shoes, but rarely in a saddle. The leathers of her English saddle always pinched her bare legs, and the fenders on her battered old Western one rubbed.

Brooke hesitated, glancing toward the house. It wouldn't take long to run inside and change into jeans and paddock boots. But was it really worth it on such a hot day?

Instead, she ducked into the people part just long enough to grab her plastic schooling helmet and Foxy's bridle. Moments later, she was slipping on to Foxy
bareback from the fence rail. She glanced at the humble riding ring she'd laid out in one corner of the pasture, then tugged on one rein to turn Foxy in the other direction.

“It's no big deal,” she murmured, rubbing the mare's withers as they set out along the edge of the soybean field next door. “We can start our training tomorrow.”

CHAPTER

BROOKE HAD STARTED OUT WITH
no particular destination in mind. But it wasn't long before she realized she was almost automatically heading toward Adam's house.

Adam Conley was the only other kid Brooke's age within a five-mile radius. The two of them had been hanging out since they were toddlers, and they usually spent most of the summer bombing around together, exploring their rural little corner of the county, Brooke on Foxy and Adam on his souped-up dirt bike.

This year was different, though. Brooke couldn't remember the last time Adam had showed up at the
screen door during breakfast, already bored and looking for something to do. In fact, she'd barely seen him since school had let out almost a month earlier.

It's only because he's on the swim team this year,
Brooke told herself, squeezing with both legs to hold herself in place as Foxy picked her way down one of the few hills in their mostly pancake-flat area.

But was that really all it was? Brooke couldn't help remembering that Adam hadn't hung out with her much during the last few months of school, either. He'd seemed more interested in spending time with other boys—playing basketball with them after school, goofing off with them at lunch, elbowing them as they all loped down the halls together between classes. And mostly ignoring Brooke, barely nodding when she said hi and never coming over to talk during homeroom. Brooke hadn't been sure what to do about that, so she hadn't done anything. But it hurt a little to think maybe he didn't like her as much anymore.

Still, it wasn't as if she didn't have any other friends. She'd had plenty of people to sit with at lunch or pair up with for school projects. But none of those girls lived
close by, and none of them had called or even texted much so far that summer.

“Whatever,” Brooke muttered aloud, not wanting to think about that anymore. She was sure Adam hadn't really changed. They were older now, and busier, and it made sense that they couldn't spend every second of the day hanging out the way they had when they were little kids.

For instance, Brooke's new training plans would probably keep her just as busy as swim team practices and stuff were keeping Adam. Reading her friends' posts had given her lots of ideas, and suddenly she wished she'd stayed home to get started after all.

Then she remembered something her old riding teacher had said once—that anytime you rode or handled a horse, you were always either training or untraining her. That had made a big impression on Brooke at the time, though she'd sort of forgotten about it lately.

Now the idea inspired her anew. She sat up straighter on Foxy's back, shortening her reins, which she'd let slip out to the buckle. Foxy stopped, obviously thinking that was what her rider wanted.

“No, it's okay, girl. Walk on.” Brooke clucked and nudged the pony's sides with her heels. Foxy shook her head against the snug reins, stepping awkwardly sideways.

Fine. If Foxy wanted to go sideways, maybe it was time to teach her to leg-yield better. Brooke had played around with teaching the mare a few moves like that after checking a book on dressage out of the library, though that had been during the winter, when the footing in their backyard ring wasn't very good, so they hadn't done much. Now Brooke tried to remember what the book had said.

“Outside leg on, bend to the inside—or was it to the outside?” Brooke couldn't remember. She bit her lip, then shrugged and just gave a kick with her right leg.

Instead of moving to the left, Foxy halted again. She lifted her head and backed up a step.

“No, Foxy,” Brooke said. “You're supposed to be leg-yielding.”

She nudged the mare forward again and gave it another try. This time Foxy kept walking, but actually veered to the right instead of the left when Brooke gave the leg aid for the leg-yield!