Home for Christmas Page 9

  Khloe patted my hand. “She didn’t ask you to marry her, LT. Just be chill and write whatever you want!”

  The other girls nodded.

  “Charlotte and my family are going to be home any second,” I said. I looked out the window at the driveway.

  “Better type fast,” Lexa said, smirking at me.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay! Um . . .”

  @SassySilver: VERY EXCITED FOR OUR FIRST DAY!!

  I erased the message. “I was screaming at her,” I said.

  I tried again.

  @SassySilver: It’s totally exciting! Mayb we’ll end up doing stuff w u & ur friends!

  “That is so lame,” I said, erasing the message.

  @SassySilver: I’m sure it’ll b fun. We’ll c u around!

  “There,” I said with a satisfied smile. “How’s that?”

  “Perf,” Khloe said. “Send it!”

  “Do it!” Clare added. She started doing a weird little dance, and everyone cracked up. “What?” Clare asked, laughing. “It’s the Chatter Dance!”

  I pushed update just as a car door slammed.

  “Good timing,” I said. “And thanks for the dance, Clare. You now have to do that every time I update Chatter.”

  “Will do,” she said.

  I inhaled through my nose, letting the air out slowly through my mouth. I had no reason to be so insanely nervous. The person on the other side of the door was my sister. Yes, we’d had our not-so-very-nice moments, and we still had a lot of issues to work through, but Char was my family.

  “We’re going to head upstairs,” Khloe said, motioning to herself and the rest of the girls. “You need time for a family moment.”

  “You don’t have to go,” I said immediately. “Char knows you’re here.”

  “We’re not going to disappear,” Lexa said. “We’ll be in the guest room hanging out. You can bring Charlotte up to meet us when she’s settled in and stuff.”

  I nodded finally. “Thanks, guys.”

  As they headed upstairs, I grabbed my coat and slid on shoes. I opened the door, a blast of cold air rushing inside, and stepped onto the landing. I took one more breath and went down the stairs and hurried along the sidewalk to the driveway.

  Immediately, I spotted brilliant blond hair flowing from under a black knit beanie.

  “Char!” I called.

  My sister turned away from the SUV and let go of her suitcase handle. “Lauren!”

  I ran over and wrapped my arms around my sister. Charlotte embraced me back, and for the first time, we squeezed each other like we never wanted to let go. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Becca watching us, smiling.

  “Girls, let’s get the luggage inside and then you can say hi, okay?” Dad asked.

  Char and I pulled apart. We smiled at each other, and her beautiful blue eyes looked extra blue with the thin line of black kohl liner that rimmed them.

  “It’s really good to see you,” I said, taking a red travel suitcase from the back of the SUV.

  “You too, Laur,” Charlotte said. “Thanks for helping with my stuff.”

  I nodded, and the five of us carried and wheeled Charlotte’s suitcases into the house.

  “I’ll take the heavy ones upstairs,” Dad said. “Laur and Becca, will you help Char with the rest?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  Becca nodded in agreement. She took off her coat and sneakers, looking très cozy-chic in a white sweater with a glittery snowflake on the front and black yoga pants.

  “I’ll go make you a cup of your favorite tea, honey,” Mom said to Charlotte. Char slid out of her wool coat and sported a Sarah Lawrence hoodie over skinny jeans. She took off her hat, running her fingers through her long blond hair. I wondered when Pantene would find Char and offer her a hair-commercial deal.

  “Thank you, Mom,” Char said.

  Char, Dad, and I got Charlotte’s stuff up to her room. We lined the suitcases up along the wall, and Dad reached out to hug Charlotte.

  “We’ve all missed you,” he said. “I’m the happiest dad on the planet to have all of my girls home for the holidays.” He kissed Char’s forehead and left the room.

  Char flopped onto her back in the middle of her bed. Her room’s color scheme was done in Sarah Lawrence College colors—green and white. Char’s bed had a fluffy white comforter, white pillows, and a green iron headboard twisted with leaves and vines. Above her bed hung a gold-framed image of a gryphon—the school’s mascot. I’d had to Google “gryphon” when Char had told me it was her school’s mascot. I stared at it for a second—it had the head, wings, and front feet of an eagle on a lion’s body. She had photos of herself and her friends in thin gold frames cascading up the wall by her closet.

  “It is so good to be home,” Charlotte said. “Finals were the worst ever.” Her eyes were closed as she massaged her temples.

  “We’re glad you’re here,” Becs said. “I’m going to get your tea from Mom, Char.”

  I shot Becca a what are you doing? look. I was a little nervous to be alone with my sister, despite our friendly greeting.

  “Thank you, Becca,” Charlotte said.

  Becca left the room, and Charlotte sat up and patted a spot in front of her. “Sit for a sec?” she asked.

  I gingerly sat down. “I have to, um, leave in a few minutes,” I said. “My friends and I have to be at the horse rescue for our shift.”

  Charlotte smiled. “No worries. What I want to say won’t take long.”

  C’mon, Becca, I thought. Hurry up!

  “I e-mailed you because I’m betting you were probably nervous about me coming home,” Charlotte said.

  I played with the edge of my sweater, then nodded.

  “I was nervous too,” Charlotte said. “You and I are so much alike that it’s always caused this rift between us. But I’ve been away. You’ve been away. I really, really want to give Mom and Dad the best Christmas present I can think of. . . .”

  I looked at her as she trailed off.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You and I getting along. Mending our relationship and letting go of the past.” Charlotte nudged my knee with her hand.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  I’d never heard my sister sound so sincere. Our fighting did put stress on our parents. I wanted the small amount of times that all of us were home to be great. Not full of squabbling.

  “I think we’ll be able to give them an empty wrapped box and then explain their present once they’ve opened it,” I said, smiling.

  Charlotte hugged me again, and I hugged her back.

  “Sorry,” Becca said as she came into the room. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m leaving.” Becs put a Santa mug on Char’s nightstand.

  “You’re not interrupting,” I said. “I have to go, but Char has a gift idea for Mom and Dad that she probably wants to tell you about.”

  Smiling, Charlotte nodded. “Can we catch up a little, Becs?”

  “Um, yeah,” Becca said.

  I got up and Becca took my seat.

  “Laur, when you get back, I’d love to meet all of your friends,” Charlotte said. “If that’s cool.”

  I grinned. “It’s totally cool.”

  I waved good-bye and scurried toward the guest room to gather everyone and leave. Who would have thought that giving an empty box might be one of the best gifts of all?

  18

  I FEEL LIKE AN ELF

  Sasha

  I WAS BUSY READYING TO groom my second horse of the morning—a sweet bay gelding named Watson. He was tall, like Charm, though his bone structure was much finer and he was leaner. My phone buzzed in my coat pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. I had a new text message.

  Sasha, pls come to BC after the adopt-a-thon on Saturday @ 7pm. Having a little Xmas bonfire. Bring your friends! xo, Kim

  A bonfire sounded liked the perfect way to unwind after the event. I’d get to visit Charm and hang out with everyone at my old stab
le. Smiling, I put my phone back in my pocket.

  “Quinn told me a little bit about you,” I said to Watson. I’d just taken him from his stall and clipped him into crossties.

  Quinn had gotten everyone else started with jobs too. Jacob and Paige were helping put up Christmas decorations with a group of people who, like them, weren’t experienced equestrians. Quinn had said decorating the stable was so important for the adopt-a-thon, and potential adoptive people always raved over the festive feel.

  Callie had been asked to feed a list of horses, so she was in and out of the feed room with different grain mixtures, depending on the horses’ needs, and flakes of hay.

  Alison and Brit were in the outdoor arena lunging horses. Heather had been asked to groom, tack up, and ride a horse that had been tagged as one ready to go to a home as a pleasure horse.

  “Make all of the mistakes that a beginner rider might,” Quinn had told Heather. “Let a stirrup iron flap for a few seconds, don’t double-check the girth, drop a brush or two, really do anything you can think of to test this horse. Take note of his behavior and what scares him or doesn’t. We’ve put him through so much already that by now he should be a safe ride for a fairly new rider.”

  I focused back on Watson. “So you, mister,” I said, “just came off the track a few months ago. You were fast, but not fast enough for your owners, huh?” I hugged his neck. “I know that’s not true. It’s their loss to have let you go, Watson. You’re going to get a much better home, where you’ll be the speed demon of the stable!”

  Watson shifted his weight as I swiped his left shoulder with a body brush. He was barely four years old, and I couldn’t let my guard down around him for a second. He wasn’t mean or intentionally dangerous, but he was definitely energetic and hot-blooded. His dark-brown ears stayed pointed toward the stable exit, and he yanked on the crossties.

  “Easy, shhh,” I said. “I bet someone will exercise you today.”

  I kept whispering to Watson, trying to keep him calm. He danced in place, almost stepping on my toes.

  “How’s it going?” a soft voice asked. Quinn slipped under the crossties and placed a gentle hand on Watson’s neck.

  “He’s a great horse,” I said. “Is anyone exercising him today, though? I’m worried he’ll kick a hole in his stall if he doesn’t get a chance to stretch his legs.”

  Quinn scanned her clipboard, then looked back at Watson, frowning. “No one’s free to ride him today. Well, no one with the experience to handle him.”

  “I can,” I said quickly. “I’d love to ride him.”

  Quinn looked at me, her mouth open as she paused. “Sasha, I know from your paperwork that you’re a skilled rider. Watson is fresh off the track. He’s still a bundle of energy, and his exercise schedule still includes allowing him to gallop around the track with another horse. We’re working on teaching him not to always feel he has to ‘win,’ but also giving him a sprint on the track because he’ll go stir-crazy otherwise.”

  My entire body tingled. I wanted nothing more than to ride this ex-racehorse around a track. For a second, my silks—the outfits jockeys wear—flashed in front of my eyes. Pink and white with a glittery stripe down my helmet. Not exactly traditional, but they were my daydream silks.

  “Quinn,” I said, “I promise you that I can handle Watson. I would never say that if I didn’t mean it. I would be putting his safety at risk—not just mine. Please let me ride him.”

  Quinn stared at me for what felt like hours. Finally her head dipped. “Okay.”

  “Thankyou, thankyou!” I said, grinning.

  “Let me see who’s going to be your exercise partner,” Quinn said. She ran her pointer finger down the clipboard.

  “Oh! Well, this works out great,” Quinn said. “You’ll be exercising with someone from your school. Do you know . . . Lauren Towers?”

  19

  IS IT COMPETITION?

  Lauren

  “LAUREN,” QUINN, A COORDINATOR, SAID to me. “I’d like you to exercise ride one of the horses. Does that sound okay?”

  “Definitely!” I said. “I’d love to ride.”

  We had just arrived at Safe Haven. On the way over, I’d gotten a text from Kim about a bonfire Saturday night. I’d told everyone, and they seemed as excited as I was about hanging out at Briar Creek.

  Now, though, there was zero time to even think about Saturday. The minute we’d walked into Safe Haven, the coordinators had been ready for us to start our shift. Like, immediately. Quinn had already assigned tasks to the rest of my friends, and they’d headed off in separate directions. I was the only one who Quinn had asked to ride. It felt like I hadn’t been on horseback forever, even though I’d ridden Whisper a couple of days ago.

  “Great,” Quinn said, looking at a clipboard. “I’d like you to groom and tack up Reeser. He’s one of the fresher horses off the track. He needs a good workout. If you are up for it, I’d like you to take him for a gallop on our track.”

  Excitement shot through my veins.

  “That sounds great,” I said. “I’d love to be on the track.”

  “Perfect,” Quinn said, smiling. “You’ll be riding with another horse and rider. The rider’s actually from your school and said she knows you.”

  It wasn’t any of my friends, so . . .

  “Do you know Sasha?” Quinn asked.

  My excited feelings took a nosedive. Nerves replaced them.

  “Yes,” I finally answered. “Sorry. Not enough tea this morning. Sasha’s a grade ahead of me.”

  “I gave you both serious tasks that require extreme caution,” Quinn said. “I’ve told Sasha to let her horse gallop too, but not kick into that drive mode where he feels he has to win. It’s not a race, although I want both horses to be allowed to stretch their legs.”

  Quinn pointed me in the direction of Reeser’s stall, and I felt as though I was walking on a treadmill. I kept walking, but not getting anywhere. I wasn’t worried about handling Reeser. Instead I was focused on the fact that I was about to go up against Sasha on the track. We weren’t racing, but I’d be comparing my riding to hers the entire time.

  I got off the imaginary treadmill and stopped in front of Reeser’s stall. “Hi, boy,” I said in a soft voice.

  A copper-colored gelding turned his head away from a green hay net and looked at me. He had a crooked stripe down his face. His ears, alert, pointed at me. Reeser stepped up to the stall door and stuck his head out to me.

  “Aw, you’re a friendly guy, huh?” I asked. “You’re gorgeous. Wow.”

  Reeser was nothing but muscle. He was trim—so fit that it was easy to tell he hadn’t been off the track long.

  “I’m going to get a grooming kit and tack, and I’ll be right back, mister,” I told him.

  No one’s going to be watching you and Sasha, I told myself. So you are the one with the complex. She’s not competition. It’s not a race. You’re partners, and you’ve met Sasha! She’s not going to be judging your ride the entire time.

  I shook it off and made friends with Reeser while I groomed and tacked him up. I held his reins in one hand and fastened my helmet. I tugged down my blue wool peacoat and wiggled my toes in my brown paddock boots.

  “Lauren?”

  I turned and Sasha stood, smiling, with a beautiful bay beside her. Sasha wore a peacoat too, except hers was plum. She had fawn breeches and worn-in black riding boots. Her helmet showed evidence of a few falls.

  “Hey,” I said. “I didn’t even hear you guys. These rubber mats are good.”

  I wanted to smack the top of my helmet. Like Sasha wanted to talk about rubber mats.

  Sasha smiled, nodding. “This is Watson. Quinn told you we’re exercising them together, right?”

  “She did. I’m excited to go out on a racetrack. It’s been a fantasy of mine, but I’m way too tall to be a jockey.”

  “Omigod,” Sasha said. “I dreamed about being a jockey! I don’t have the right build. Getting to race on the trac
k is insane.”

  “Do you want to race?” I asked. Goose bumps covered my arms.

  “No, we’re not supposed to,” Sasha said. “I didn’t really mean race. Galloping as fast as we want, though, is pretty close.”

  Watson yanked the reins through Sasha’s fingers, jerking her forward a step.

  “Whoa,” Sasha commanded.

  Watson stilled immediately. He blew out a breath, clearly frustrated, and I saw hints of red inside his nostrils.

  “Let’s get out there,” I said. “Before Watson tears your arm off.”

  Sasha nodded. For a second, I thought I saw a flicker of doubt or fear on her face. But this was Sasha Silver. No way was she scared. Reeser stood quietly, shifting his weight. He wasn’t getting rattled by Watson.

  “Just FYI, even though you totally don’t need me to tell you, Watson’s pretty new off the track,” Sasha said. “Quinn said he’s a handful. I need to let him work out his energy and do it where he was born to be, but I can’t let him get out of control.”

  I nodded. “You won’t let that happen.”

  “Reeser seems so much calmer, so if things get out of control, could you help me set the pace?” Sasha asked. “Only if you’re able to do it safely. If not, only worry about yourself.”

  “If you need help, I’m there if I can,” I said.

  Watson let out an ear-shattering neigh. His ribs vibrated as his trumpetlike call made other horses whinny back.

  Sasha and I nodded at each other and without another word led the horses toward the exit.

  Reeser kept a quick walk, almost trotting in place beside me as we walked toward the track. His breath was visible in the cold air.

  “Hi, girls,” Quinn said, waving at us from the entrance to the track. She held the reins of an older, sturdy appaloosa gelding. “I’m going to act as an outrider in case either of you need help.”

  Races I’d watched on TV like the Kentucky Derby ran through my head until I remembered that outriders were sort of like pool lifeguards. Quinn wouldn’t ride with us, but she would be on the track ready to get to us if we needed help. Her mount wasn’t a high-strung Thoroughbred, but rather a horse that would calm the ex-racehorses. The appaloosa barely blinked when Watson tugged Sasha forward again.