Team Challenge (13 page)

With Moth safely loaded, and after a couple of minutes of Sophie berating Dee about loading tack and not forgetting this, and remembering that, and answering her cell phone a couple of times (she always seems to have her ear jammed to the phone, which is the only respite Dee gets), Dee and Sophie got in the cab and James and I climbed into the living part behind them, and we’d set off down the drive after Katy’s trailer.

To Brookdale. Did I mention that? I could so not sit still!

Twenty teams had qualified for the Sublime Equine Challenge—which meant that the showground was teeming with ponies, riders, and their supporters—and there were lots of the usual Brookdale showing and jumping classes going on at the same time. Having caught up with Katy’s trailer on the way, Sophie parked her horse trailer next to it, so we were all together. I’d never seen so many fancy horse trailers in one place, and all that obvious wealth made me feel like a pauper. Katy’s dad, who’s all smiley and laid-back, settled down to read the paper, and Katy and James went off to find the secretary and get the lowdown on where everything was situated and the times we were due in which ring, leaving me and Bean to gaze all google-eyed at the exciting scene around us. It was a sunny day with a faint breeze, and the smell of hot dogs and doughnuts mingled satisfyingly with the smell of horses.

“I hope we see Ellen Whitaker,” said Bean, her head on a swivel, trawling for horsey celebrities.

“Oh, look there’s…em, who exactly is that?” I said as a man in show jumping gear whizzed past us on a bicycle.

“Dunno,” said Bean, “but he must be someone famous. I thought I’d brought my autograph book…” she muttered, clutching her jacket pockets. The only thing I had in my pocket was a two-thousand-year-old goddess. Epona was safety pinned in to make sure she didn’t go missing. What a disaster that would be!

“I wonder when my mom will get here?” I said, looking at the huge crowds. “Are your parents coming?”

Bean did a Tiffany-type snort. “You must be joking—they’d rather pull off their own heads. Let’s go and look at the derby bank,” she said, changing the subject and breaking into a run. I realized I’d never seen either of Bean’s parents at the yard. What was the story there, I wondered. I realized that both my parents at least tried to take an interest in my interests. When I’d eventually told Mom about qualifying for the final, she’d been thrilled and totally excited.

The enormous derby bank looked like a huge, grassy, Egyptian pyramid.

“I can just imagine me and Tiff sliding down that,” mumbled Bean, her mouth open in awe. Yeah, right, I thought. Tiffany would freak out half a mile away from it.

The main ring was vast, and all the jumps looked newly painted and familiar—the Devil’s Dyke, the triple bar, the water jumps. I was in heaven knowing I wasn’t just a spectator, but a competitor, just like my fave horsey celebs. My stomach did a sort of dance at the thought.

We wandered through the trade stands—we didn’t have time to stop—and found our way back to the horses. We unloaded the ponies, stripping off rugs and travel boots and checking that they were OK. Moth had rubbed out one of her braids, so Bean fixed it before James and Katy returned.

“Here, I’ve got our numbers. Katy’s got the times, and we walked the cross-country course together, so that’s all done,” said James, handing out the numbers.

“They’ve built the course especially for this event,” said Katy, “and it’s gorgeous. Bluey’s going to love it!”

We looked at the note James held with our times written on it. James and Moth were up first, then me and Drum, followed by our secret weapon, Katy and Bluey (only they weren’t much of a secret), with Bean and Tiffany going last. Seeing my name in the program prompted an excited tingle and a stab of fear. I wasn’t the only one with worries.

“Oh, God, I’m last, and I just
know
I’m going to forget the test and let you all down,” wailed Bean.

“You won’t forget it this time,” I said, crossing my fingers behind me against the probability of telling a big, fat lie. “You’ve practiced it so often at home, you’ll remember it today.” I didn’t mean it. Secretly, I wished Katy was going last.

James wasn’t so diplomatic. “We can drop your score, like we always do.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence!” yelled Bean.

“Oh, enough of the negativity!” snapped Katy, sticking her fingers in her ears. “No more what-ifs, puh-leeese! Unless it’s to say, What if we all do fantastically well? What if we all perform like champions? What if we
win?
If you believe you’ll do badly, you will. If you believe you’ll do well, then guess what? You might just do that, instead!”

“Wow, that’s telling us!” I said.

“OK, Katy, keep your hair on,” mumbled James.

“If you say so,” said Bean, unconvinced.

“OK, now give me five!” Katy said, sticking her arm in the air.

We did. Katy can be really scary at times.

Our supporters began to arrive. First were James’s parents, and they’d brought Katy’s mom with them. They all chatted with Katy’s dad, said all the right encouraging things to us, then disappeared to have something to eat and go around the trade stands, promising they’d be watching all of us. There was no sign of my mom yet—or Greg, who was coming, too. I wondered whether he’d make me do detention if I didn’t win. Or he might make my mom do it instead.

My dad and Skinny Lynny turned up though. But you’ll never guess what Skinny was wearing. Jodhpurs! I could have died of embarrassment. Who wears riding clothes at a show when they’re not competing?
She can’t even ride!!!
I could see the others staring as Skinny stomped about in her leather boots and skintight jodhpurs and I could have died. Right there. Dead. At Brookdale. I imagined my teammates and Drummer shaking their heads as they gathered around me prostrate on the grass, saying, “It’s sad, but going at Brookdale, well, it’s what Pia would have wanted, after all.”

“Hi, Pumpkin!” said Dad, kissing me out of my morbid thoughts and making me even angrier—with myself this time. When was I going to have a word with him about that?

“When are you on?” asked Skinny, making an attempt to pat Drummer, then backing off as he flattened his ears back and swished his tail at her.

“Not until this afternoon. Why are you wearing jodhpurs?” I had to ask.

“Oh, I thought I’d blend in,” Skinny replied airily, flicking back her hair.

“Don’t they suit her?!” said Dad, giving her a dorky smile.

As one of my parents took his trophy girlfriend shopping at the trade stands, my other parent arrived with her boyfriend—the one with the glued-on hair.

“Hello, sweetie,” said Mom, kissing my cheek. She was wearing a plain shirt and a pair of jeans over some flat boots, not very Greg-like at all. This merited investigation. As Greg admired Sophie’s sensational horse trailer, I whispered to Mom.

“I thought you’d be wearing something unsuitable for a horse show, something Greg likes a woman to be seen in. What’s going on?”

My mom turned a bit pink and faced me squarely. “I thought about what you said—about me doing what Greg wanted all the time. You were right. Greg was being manipulative. But I was to blame, too, for letting him influence me.”

I was a bit stunned. “Oh,” I said. Not the greatest of responses.

“So I decided that instead of running away from the problem and simply finishing with him, I’d talk to him about it, put my point across.”

“Oh,” I said again. This was getting repetitive.

“He was actually really sympathetic to my feelings and what I told him. I was surprised,” said Mom.

She wasn’t the only one—I almost fell over. At least I didn’t say “oh” again. I was starting to get on my own nerves.

“So we’ll see how we go. At least I didn’t cut and run. We’re working through it instead of just running away from the problem.”

My mom had stood up for herself. That was great.

It meant Greg was still ongoing. That was bad.

“That’s fantastic, Mom,” I heard myself saying. “I want you to be happy.”

“Where’s Drummer?” said Mom, as Greg came over.

I took them to where Drummer was tied to the trailer, munching on some hay. He was thrilled to see Mom. “Here’s a woman who knows about the important things in life!” he said, frisking her for sweets.

Mom dished out the polo mints. Greg patted Drummer’s nose.

“Who’s the dweeb?” asked Drum, his minty breath wafting over us between crunches.

Mom wished me luck and assured me they’d both be watching us. Then, as it was time for James’s jumping round, and we all got a bit frantic and twitchy, she and Greg disappeared and left us to it. I didn’t have time to think any more about my Mom and her new way of dealing with things, but I was certainly going to give it some more thought later when I didn’t have such a hectic schedule. I was shocked, amazed, and a little bit surprised.

Chapter 16

W
e all helped James saddle Moth, tweaking her brushing boots, straightening her noseband, and pushing James’s tie right up to his shirt collar, then we followed them over to the show jumping ring. Everywhere was awash with Sublime Equine orange and lime banners, and the orange and lime dressed promo girls were there handing out catalogs and flicking back their hair. They looked just like Skinny Lynny. As all the dads ogled at them, the moms pulled disapproving faces and gave their husbands elbow nudges. Yup, just like Skinny, I thought with a sigh.

“The jumps look huge,” gulped James, after walking the course and warming up over the practice fences. They did, but as Katy pointed out, in her official role of morale booster, that was because of all the fillers and flowers in them. They were, she assured James, no bigger than the ones he’d jumped at home.

James sidled up to me. “Can I borrow You-know-who for a quick confidence-building sesh?”

I screwed up my face. “Oh, James, I can’t. She’s pinned into my pocket with, like, a million safety pins, and it will take too long to get her out. Sorry.”

James shortened his reins. “Well, we’ll just have to do it on our own, won’t we, girl?” he said, patting Moth’s chestnut neck.

Moth’s bottom lip quivered, and she looked straight ahead, all wide-eyed as usual, her white face making her look really intense. If only she wasn’t so nervous of everyone but James, I thought, stroking her neck. At least she’s stopped flinching every time I touched her. That was progress.

“You can do it, Moth. We all believe in you,” I whispered. And then the announcer was telling the crowd that the next to jump was James Beecham and Gypsy Moth, and Katy, Bean, and I held our breath and leaned on the fence as our first team members cantered into the ring.

“Oh, come on, James,” said Katy, her fingers crossed.

The bell rang, and James and Moth raced through the start like they meant business, Moth’s eyes opened wide at the fillers and flowers. They flew over the first four jumps at a blistering pace and in great style, and we allowed ourselves to breath out a little. Then there was a double, which Moth didn’t like the look of—she snorted even more than usual, and James had to ride her strongly through, but nothing fell. A nasty, narrow gate was next, and although Moth’s front hooves clipped it, it didn’t fall (Bean put her hands over her eyes at this point, and I think I actually stopped breathing), and they then raced over a wall, a hedge, a couple of big spreads, and a water jump, before turning for the final three jumps, a nasty treble of shark’s teeth.

“Come on…come on…” muttered Bean, jiggling up and down, riding Moth from the ground.

Moth took off too early over the first jump. Katy squeaked. Bean groaned and I dug my nails into my palms. Was this where our hopes fell apart?

The striding was all off for the second element, but Moth launched herself in the air and managed to clear it. But there was still the last jump to go. How could she do it? It looked impossible. Moth had no speed left, and the last jump was a spread, needing to be tackled from a strong pace. We watched as James legged on, urging his gallant chestnut mare on with his hands and heels. We heard him ask her for an extra effort with a desperate “
Hup!
” and saw Moth take off way, way too soon. Surely disaster was inevitable?

I couldn’t look.

Screwing my eyes shut, I waited to hear the inevitable sounds of planks falling, the groan of the crowd, and the announcer shouting four faults. But instead, the longest ever silence was broken by the thud of hooves on grass, the crowd clapping, and the announcer shouting, “Clear round!”

“
Yes!
” shouted Bean, leaping up and punching the air.

“Oh, fantastic, Moth!” screamed Katy.

“But how?” I said astonished. “How?”

“She flicked her hind feet up over that last plank!” said Bean. “She’s such a star!”

I’d missed Moth’s Herculean effort by closing my eyes. I vowed never to be so wussy again.

Surrounding Moth as she came out, we all went bonkers and told them how clever they both were.

“It was all Moth!” James said, sliding out of the saddle and giving his mare a big hug. “She was just the best.”

And Moth actually looked pleased with herself. Instead of her usual shrinking, don’t-look-at-me demeanor, her eyes sparkled as if to say, “I did that. I pulled out all the stops and jumped my heart out for you all. I’m part of this team!” We each gave her a big kiss and a hug.

“What about me?” James laughed.

“We would if you were a horse!” Bean laughed, screwing up her nose and giving Moth another mint.

Talk about a missed opportunity!

Chapter 17

A
waiting our turn in the collecting ring, I swallowed hard. Drum and I really had to raise our game if we weren’t to disgrace ourselves in front of everyone. And I had a score to settle with Cat—I just couldn’t bear the thought of her beating me, not after she’d tried to get the Great Eight disqualified. My wimple wafted in front of my eyes, and I could hear a faint tinkle every time Drum shook his head against a fly.

A boy on a black pony was performing his routine. Dressed as a wizard, the boy rode his star-spangled pony in ever-decreasing circles to a Harry Potter sound track. Everyone around me murmured approval and nodded their heads. He seemed to be the favorite to win. I glanced around. Cat and Bambi had already performed their routine, and I could see them outside the collecting ring with Leanne and Scott. I watched as a woman joined them, a woman with a stroller and two young children. Lifting the bigger child, the woman gaily plopped her on Bambi’s broad back, and I could see Cat looking less than happy about it. I was astonished—why was she putting up with it? She wasn’t usually so accommodating!