Chosen Read online

  CHOSEN

  Other books in the

  CANTERWOOD CREST SERIES:

  TAKE THE REINS

  CHASING BLUE

  BEHIND THE BIT

  TRIPLE FAULT

  BEST ENEMIES

  LITTLE WHITE LIES

  RIVAL REVENGE

  HOME SWEET DRAMA

  CITY SECRETS

  ELITE AMBITION

  SCANDALS, RUMORS, LIES

  UNFRIENDLY COMPETITION

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN M!X

  Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  First Aladdin M!X edition May 2011

  Copyright © 2011 by Jessica Burkhart

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction

  in whole or in part in any form.

  ALADDIN is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc., and related logo

  is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  ALADDIN M!X and related logo are registered trademarks

  of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event.

  For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers

  Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  Designed by Mike Rosamilia

  The text of this book was set in Venetian 301 BT.

  Library of Congress Control Number 2010940033

  ISBN 978-1-4424-1946-9

  ISBN 978-1-4424-1947-6 (eBook)

  Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  1. SCHOOL DAZE

  2. FROM THE TOP

  3. DESIGNER BOOTS TO FILL

  4. LAUREN TOWERS KNOWS STYLE

  5. GROOM AND GOSSIP

  6. WHAT IF . . . ?

  7. LAUREN'S ADDICTION

  8. MY BOYFRIEND THE LIAR

  9. CRYSTAL BALL, ANYONE?

  10. WELCOME TO MY WORLD

  11. TRAUMA-SLASH-DRAMA

  12. SCANDAL OUTBREAK

  13. HOW ABOUT A LITTLE UNDERSTANDING?

  14. POKER FACE

  15. I’VE GOT MAIL

  16. IN

  17. SOME PEOPLE WILL BEG FOR FASHION TIPS

  18. THE DRESS

  19. JUST DANCE

  20. JUST ANOTHER ORDINARY SATURDAY

  21. STAYING BUSY ISN’T EASY

  22. ZERO CHEMISTRY

  23. WHAT IF . . .

  24. A WELL-KEPT SECRET

  25. PRETTY PERFECT

  26. FINALLY READY

  To May 2011 being the complete opposite of May 2010.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There wouldn’t be a super special without the super team at Simon & Schuster, including Bethany Buck, Fiona Simpson, Mara Anastas, Liesa Abrams, Jessica Handelman, Lucille Rettino, Venessa Williams, Alyson Heller, Russell Gordon, Katherine Devendorf, Karin Paprocki, Ellen Chan, Dayna Evans, and the super all-star Kate Angelella.

  Kate the editor, if there’s anyone who got lucky to be “chosen,” I am. Your edits and countless hours of work on this book made it as shiny as the gold on the cover. Lauren’s favorite color, her obsession with PINK, and her admiration of classic style icons are all influenced by you.

  Kate the best friend, you define strength, bravery, and grace. During ten months of unimaginable darkness that would have crippled anyone else, you never wavered. Few people call their best friend their hero, but I do. There’s not a second of our friendship that I take for granted. I can’t wait to watch more Pretty Little Liars, shop for sparkly accessories, and eat Ben & Jerry’s with you. LYSSM.

  Ross, thank you for all the support and for being excited about this new chapter in Canterwood.

  Thank you to the stunning new Canterwood models and to Monica Stevenson for taking such gorgeous photographs.

  Writing would be lonely without friends, especially Lauren Barnholdt (Barnhart forever!), Rebecca Leach, Mandy Morgan, and Brianna Ahern.

  Sparkles to everyone on Team Canterwood for being so awesome! I’m so grateful to all of you for reading the series and for cheering me on while I work. I read and appreciate every Facebook note, Tweet, e-mail, letter, message board post, and blog comment from you.

  Finally, saying thank you to the people, both expected and not, who stuck by my best friend in a crisis isn’t enough. Those of you who did are forever changed in my eyes.

  WEDNESDAY, November 2ND

  RED OAK TRIALS

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  THE THRILL AT THE CHANCE OF BEING OVER-all champion at Red Oaks Trials gripped me. Sure, my team Double Aces seemed to already have cinched the win for our stable.

  But I wanted that individual blue ribbon.

  Before cross-country, which was the very last round, I said as much to my coach.

  “I’m going for it,” I announced.

  “Lauren, I know how driven you are to win,” Mr. Wells said. “But you need to take your time this round. You’re exhausted. If you push it too hard, you’re bound to make a mistake.”

  “I won’t,” I insisted. “I studied every jump in this course when I walked it earlier.”

  I was cocky—sure I knew better than Mr. Wells. I knew that if I just pushed myself a tiny bit further, I could do it. I could.

  I mounted Skyblue, the school horse I rode at Aces. Skyblue, a dapple gray gelding, was an experienced competitor. I loved riding him from the day Mr. Wells had paired us together. Skyblue was everything I loved about horses—he was affectionate, calm but fiery when he needed to be, and he listened to his rider.

  When the announcer called my name, I entered the starting box. The bell sounded; Skyblue and I were off.

  I kept him to a hand gallop as we made our way across the lawn and toward the first jump—a log pile.

  On the cross-country course, Skyblue and I raced over several jumps. When I checked my watch, I saw how great our time was. We were so far ahead I could even slow him to a canter, and as long as we stayed on course and didn’t have any refusals or problems, we’d win the class.

  But I only slowed Skyblue a notch—barely to a canter. He flew down a creek bank, raced though the knee-high water, and his shoes scraped against the creek bed. He scrambled up the embankment and leaped over a fallen tree.

  Skyblue didn’t question me once.

  By the time we reached the end of the woods and hit the field, I could see them; only two jumps stood between us and the finish line.

  Exhilarated, I let Skyblue back into a near gallop as we headed across the meadow toward a brush fence. Wind whooshed in my ears. The chilly air felt good on my face. Skyblue, sweaty but by no means overheated, took fast but even breaths. I looked past the brush at the final jump—a vertical.

  Our time is perfect—we’ve got this! The crowd began cheering as we closed in on the finish line. I never tired of hearing that sound.

  Skyblue and I were mere strides away from the brush.

  I counted down in my head, preparing to lift out of the saddle and take as much weight off his back as possible.

  Almost there. In five, four, three, two—

  I never got to one.

  Skyblue dug his heels into the grass and skidded to a halt just before the greenery. He was probably close enough that his muzzle brushed the scratchy branches and leaves.

  I never saw for sure—I’d flown over the jump without him.

  I was unprepared for th
e refusal. Skyblue had stayed on one side and I’d flown over his head. My entire body slammed into the ground on the other side of the jump. My back hit first, then I rolled onto my shoulder, my helmet thudding against the ground.

  I heard a rush of sounds. Of people screaming for help, someone shouting, “Don’t move her!” and finally, the ambulance sirens.

  “Is Skyblue okay?” I managed to get out. “Is he all right?”

  “He’s okay, Lauren,” Mr. Wells’s voice had sounded so off. Shaky. Like he was scared of something.

  “Please be still, miss,” said someone whose voice I didn’t recognize.

  I blinked. Mom and Dad knelt beside me, strange expressions on their faces.

  Why does everyone look so terrified? I wondered.

  Everything went black.

  EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER UNION, CONNECTICUT

  SCHOOL DAZE

  ON SUNNY MONDAY MORNING, DAD DROVE ME the half hour it took to get to school like he did every morning. He always ended the ride with a funny, “hip” saying. This May morning hadn’t been any different.

  “G2G, Laur,” Dad said. I could see him focus on the acronyms. “Holler back if you need a ride.”

  Grinning, I got out of the car. “Don’t talk to anyone. Please.”

  Dad headed for work and I went into the school’s main building.

  I walked down the hallway of Yates Preparatory School to my locker. I dropped my heavy backpack on the floor and spun the combination into my lock until it clicked open. Yates was my fave school so far of all the schools I’d attended. I’d moved around a lot to compete on the show circuit and Yates was my third school.

  Doing well academically had always been important to me, and I’d worked hard to keep up my grades while riding. I’d even taken extra courses online last summer. It had paid off when I’d been accepted to Yates.

  “Hey, LT.”

  I peered around the metal door and saw Taylor grinning at me.

  “Hi,” I said, hugging him. He was a few inches taller than me and his cropped blond hair had been bleached by the sun from spending so many hours practicing in the pool. His tanned skin contrasted with my own pale coloring. I took in the sprinkle of freckles across his nose that I loved.

  “Missed you this weekend,” I said.

  “Me too.” Taylor held my hand, leaning up against the lockers. “I hate it when things get so crazy. But Dad insisted that I shadow him at his office, even though it was a weekend.”

  I rolled my eyes. Taylor and I had been together for five months, and his dad, an investment banker, seemed to want Taylor to decide to follow in the family footsteps and take over the business. Like, yesterday.

  “I’m sorry he’s pressuring you so much,” I said. “We’re twelve. Aren’t we supposed to be able to change whatever we want to be every day if we want?”

  Taylor squeezed my hand, letting it go so he could shove his hands into his pockets. “I’m used to it.” He smiled. “Anyway, Mondays are gross enough. Let’s talk about something waaay better.”

  “Like?” The enthusiasm in his hazel eyes was infectious.

  “Want to go out on Saturday night? We can do something fun—whatever you want.”

  “Whatever I want? I like the sound of that.” We smiled at each other. “I’d love to.”

  The warning bell rang, startling us both. I hadn’t even gathered my books for class. Yates had a zero-tolerance policy for lateness and I didn’t want to spend my afternoon in detention.

  “Perfect,” Taylor said. “Text you later.”

  “Bye.”

  My excitement about going out with Taylor on Friday made me grab my math book instead of the one I needed for history class. I realized it just before I closed my locker. I switched out the books then hurried to the class I shared with Brielle and Ana.

  Yates was so small I got to share a lot of classes with my two best friends. Everyone knew everyone here. At first, I’d been worried about fitting in. The size of the school made it seem cliquey. But Brielle and Ana had become instant besties.

  I snagged a seat in the center of the classroom.

  “Hey, Lauren,” Amber said, walking inside with her group of friends.

  I said hi to her and a few other people as they sat down, furiously opening their textbooks and notebooks. We all wanted to look as if we’d been in class way early to win points with Mr. Newton—one of the toughest teachers at Yates.

  “Laur, omigodwehavetotalkrightnow!”

  I laughed, looking up at Brielle as she plopped down next to me. Ana sat on my other side, a smile turning up her lips. They were both fun friends to hang out with at school and at the stable.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Brielle’s cool black hair was pulled into a high, shiny ponytail. The gloss treatment we’d all gotten at the salon a couple of weeks ago made her hair look extra gorge. Her fair, freckle-free, never-left-the-house-without-SPF-fifty complexion showed just enough makeup to not get her in trouble with her parents. She had a light coat of mascara, blush, and pale pink-tinted gloss. Brielle was the epitome of a girly-girl.

  She looked seasonably adorable today in a Marc Jacobs light pink dress with capped sleeves and a cream-colored cardigan. She had strappy, white wedges to match that I noted (since we were the same shoe size) I’d probably be asking to borrow next week.

  “I heard from Kendra, who heard from Madison, who heard from Portia, that Will is going to ask me to the end-of-the-year dance!” Brielle’s tone had reached a near shriek.

  “That’s awesome!” I said, beaming for her.

  Ana leaned over toward my desk. “Now we just have to get Will to ask Brielle already, so she can start dress shopping. Even though the dance isn’t for a couple of weeks, she’s already freaking out about her dress and shoes and accessories.”

  “We’ll get all of that,” I said, glancing between both of my friends. “Taylor’s taking me and I haven’t picked out anything yet either.”

  I grinned at Ana in a teasing way. “And are we getting you into a dress?”

  “No!” Ana groaned. “Isn’t it enough that I’m going? I’m happy you both have dates, and I’m going to be there from the hair blow-out to the fastening of your strappy shoes, but I’m going solo. You know I’m only focused on two things—”

  Brielle and I finished the sentence along with her. “Writing and illustrating.”

  Ana pulled out her notebook that she’d covered in gorgeous pen sketches of people, animals, buildings, and anything else that had caught her attention.

  “I’m an artiste,” Ana said, her tone playful. “I refuse to be distracted by boys. Or anything else.”

  Brielle and I didn’t argue with her. Ana was one of the most talented artists at our entire school. She dressed the part, too. Today, she was très (French for “very”) chic in an ivory beret that was slightly back behind her hairline, black leggings, and ballet flats. She’d curled her light brown hair into waves and the highlights made her skin tone glow.

  She pushed the makeup rule a little more than Brielle. She’d been doing it for months and had never gotten in trouble. This morning she had a thin line of black liquid eyeliner with the slightest cat-eye curve that looked amazing and brought out her wide, brown eyes.

  “Speaking of which, is your creative writing group today?” I asked Ana.

  “Yeah, I’m meeting up with art class friends to critique one another’s sketches. It’s one of our last meetings before school’s out for summer. You guys?”

  “I’m doing nothing for finals,” Brielle said. “Boring.”

  “I’ve got glee club,” I said. “Then homework for me.”

  “Glee will be distracting,” Ana said. “Hopefully it’ll keep you from thinking about Canterwood.”

  Canterwood Crest Academy—those three words made my skin prickle. Canterwood was one of the best, most prestigious boarding schools in the country with an extremely well-known riding program. From what I’d heard, the extracurriculars
there—in particular the equestrian team—were as tough as the academics.

  Ever since I’d heard about it, I’d been obsessed with Canterwood. I loved everything about the school—from its green and gold school colors to the photos on the Web site to the descriptions of the student dorms.

  I’d applied months ago and once I started thinking about it, I couldn’t stop. I was already close to camping out in front of my mailbox.

  “Definitely,” I said, smiling. “I’m just ready to get through classes and go to glee.”

  Glee club was one of the only things that made me look forward to Mondays. I wasn’t even close to being the best singer in the club, but I loved singing and performing. Last week our club had performed a new song from Sierra, a hot new hip-hop artist, and it had been so much fun. Our club just formed this year and we were already prepping to start competing next year.

  Next year.

  Next year I’d likely be at Yates competing in glee. Or maybe, just maybe, I’d be competing somewhere different altogether. Somewhere like Canterwood Crest Academy.

  FROM THE TOP

  “LET’S TAKE IT FROM THE TOP,” MR. BENSON said. “The last run-through was great and I can tell you’ve all been practicing. But I want to hear it again. This time, with a little more energy.”

  The twelve of us nodded from our chairs in the school’s music room. I loved it in here. The glossy wooden floors looked even shinier from the sunlight that poured through two tall windows in the back. Musical notes, painted in black and silver, kept the white walls from looking plain and institutional. A set of red Yamaha drums were in the far corner and in the back of the room, a baby grand piano made me wish I knew how to play.

  Mr. Benson, one of the youngest teachers, had a reputation for being cool because he let us mix up contemporary music with the older music most glee club teachers taught. He’d also installed a killer sound system in our room so when we sang, the acoustics were just right.

  Glee club was the first club I’d joined.