The Canterwood Crest Stable of Books Page 9

  It wasn’t even a choice—I had to.

  17

  SASSY SILVER SCORES BIG

  I ABSENTMINDEDLY STIRRED MY SODA WITH my bendy straw and stared out the cafeteria window. A week had passed since the show and I was still feeling down.

  Julia had gloated all week long about her blue ribbon. She brought it everywhere—to lunch, to practice—even to class. Callie was excited about her wins, too, even though she downplayed it for my benefit. Paige did her best to cheer me up. She’d even gotten permission from Livvie to make chocolate-chip pancakes this morning, since it was a Saturday. At least Parents’ Weekend was a week away—thinking about showing Mom and Dad around campus gave me something else to focus on.

  Charm was sad, too. He seemed listless in his stall and when I turned him out in the pasture, he ambled around instead of taking his usual gallop up and down the fence. Charm wasn’t used to losing.

  I had to focus all of my energy on practicing for the advanced team testing before Thanksgiving break.

  “Hey, Sasha.” Jacob slid into the empty seat next to me. He looked cuter than the last time I saw him—if that was possible.

  “Hey, Jacob. Aren’t we lucky that we got Titanic for our homework assignment?”

  “Especially since Gone with the Wind is so long,” he said

  We were trying to figure out who had seen more classic movies. Jacob had sworn he was the winner, but I had one-upped him when he had admitted he’d never seen The Sound of Music. Jacob stole a barbecue chip off my plate. “I’m having trouble with my paper, though.”

  “Really?” I asked. “If you want any help…,”

  “You wouldn’t mind?” Jacob had no trace of a smile on his face. “I kind of suck at papers.”

  “I could read what you have and give you some pointers,” I offered, trying to stay calm.

  “That would be great!” A smile lit his face. “And, uh,” his voice cracked. “Maybe if you’re not busy now, and you probably are, we could get ice cream. Or something. If you want.”

  Color crept into my face. I fumbled around in my pocket for my lip gloss and tried not to make eye contact. Say something. “Sure,” I said, between yoga breaths.

  We left the cafeteria and headed for the ice cream shop near the Canterwood Media Center.

  “Have you had the initiation ice cream yet?” Jacob asked, looking at me as we ignored the “stay off the grass” signs and took a shortcut over the springy Canterwood lawn.

  “What is that?” I asked. “It sounds kind of scary.”

  “It sounds disgusting, but you have to try it.” His green eyes gleamed. “It’s mint chocolate chip with caramel sauce—Canterwood’s colors. It’s really not that bad.”

  “I’ll try it,” I said, hoping I sounded adventurous.

  When we reached the ice-cream shop, we stepped up to the counter.

  “Two cones with mint chocolate chip ice cream and caramel sauce, please,” Jacob said to the server.

  A few minutes later, we got our cones. “Cheers,” he said, tapping his cone to mine. I took a tiny bite.

  “Wow, it’s really good!” I said.

  “Yeah, it just sounds gross,” Jacob said smiling. We left the shop and walked past the library. Soon, we ended up by the English building and our ice cream was long gone. Neither of us had said a word for a few minutes. I pulled my sweater over my chilly fingers, trying to think of something interesting to talk about.

  “Well,” I said. “Thanks for initiating me.”

  “Anytime.” Jacob twisted the leather bracelet on his arm. “Do you want to come with me to the center to play video games?”

  After my loss at the show, I probably should have been at the stables practicing, but taking a break for an hour was probably okay. And anyway, Charm was grazing outside and he deserved a rest.

  “Sure,” I said, finally.

  “Ever played before?” Our arms bumped together when I stepped on an uneven part of the sidewalk.

  “You’ll have to teach me,” I said.

  The video game room was empty. “Is Super Smash Brothers Brawl okay?” Jacob asked.

  “Sure, whatever you want.” I tried to figure out where to sit. Did I plop down on the floor with a pillow? Or perch on the couch with one leg crossed like Paige did? Jacob put the disc into the console and sat cross-legged on the floor. I sat a couple of feet away from him and mirrored his casual posture.

  He handed me a white controller. “I’ll teach you.” He leaned over, so I could smell his sweet, minty breath, and arranged my fingers on the controller. My cheeks burned. Jacob Schwartz was touching me! A boy was touching my fingers! No more hand washing. Ever. An endless row of exclamation points shot through my brain.

  Jacob turned on the TV and the game started. “First, pick a character,” he said. Jacob chose a setting for us to play. “Okay, your goal is to press the A and B buttons and knock me off the screen. Got it?”

  I looked over at him and, for a second, our eyes met. The game clock counted down and on “Go!” we started to battle. Pressing every button, I maneuvered Yoshi around the screen and tried to look as if I knew what I was doing. I glanced at Jacob. It seemed like he didn’t care if I was a good player or not. He just wanted to have fun.

  With me.

  After a while, we took a break to give our thumbs a rest. He handed me a slip of folded notebook paper.

  I opened it. GamerGuy. “What’s this?” I asked.

  “It’s my IM name,” he said. “So…maybe we can chat sometime.”

  “Cool,” I said.

  !!!!!!!!!!

  I tore off a strip of paper from his note, wrote SassySilver and handed it to him. “That’s mine.”

  An hour later, practically floating, I headed for the exit and dialed Paige.

  I squealed into the phone.

  “Oh, my God, tell me!” Paige shrieked.

  “It was amazing. We had ice cream and played video games.”

  “You’re so lucky,” Paige said with a sigh. “Why aren’t there any cute boys in my cooking class?”

  “We’ll find you one,” I said. “See you in a bit.” I clicked the phone shut.

  I stared at my fingers, half expecting them to glow or show some sign that Jacob had touched them. I went back to Winchester, waiting the whole way for my hands to glow.

  18

  THE FOXES AND THE SILVERS: ONE BIG, UNHAPPY FAMILY

  “MY PARENTS WILL BE HERE IN AN HOUR!” Paige squeaked. She raced to my side of the room, nearly tripping over the vacuum, and stood on my bed. Paige had been up since five, cleaning.

  Parents’ Weekend had taken over Canterwood Crest Academy. Across the hall, Livvie was dispersing cleaning products to residents as they prepped for parental invasion. This weekend was going to be a busy one.

  “You’re making me feel bad,” I said to Paige. “You’re running around and I’m not doing anything.”

  She climbed on my bed and started peeling off the Hunter poster.

  “What are you doing?” I cried. “Not Hunter!” I grabbed her fuzzy, blue, sock-clad foot, and tried to pull her off my bed.

  “A man poster can’t stare at them when they walk in the door!” She peeled off the tape, carefully folded Hunter and slid him under my bed.

  High heels clicked up and down the hallways. Parents knocked on dorm room doors. I heard Livvie telling someone’s mother, “Of course she brushes her teeth every night!”

  Mom and Dad would be meeting me in the courtyard any minute. I knew they would want to visit Charm, but what if we ran into the Trio? Mom and Dad still didn’t know about them—and I didn’t want them to worry. Luckily, we wouldn’t have much time to spend in the stable since Canterwood had practically scheduled every single second of Parents’ Weekend.

  “I’m heading out to meet my parents,” I said to Paige. “See you later!” I hurried out of Winchester and headed down the sidewalk.

  “Sashie!” Mom sang from across the courtyard. I cringed.

>   Another girl was doing the same thing a few feet away.

  A man who looked like her father had just yelled, “Here we are, princess!” We exchanged a look of mutual discomfort.

  “I can’t wait for Parents’ Weekend to be over,” she said in a hurried whisper. “Every year I tell them Parents’ Weekend is cancelled and every year they find out I’m lying.”

  Her parents got to her first and swooped her in a hug. She tried to gracefully untangle herself from them before anyone noticed. But when she pulled away, she didn’t let go of her mom’s hand.

  In seconds, Mom and Dad reached me and wrapped me up in a hug.

  “I missed you guys,” I said, taking in Dad’s familiar woodsy scent.

  “We missed you,” Mom said, pulling me in for another hug. “We thought Parents’ Weekend would never come!”

  I extracted myself from her arms. “Paige can’t wait to meet you guys!”

  “Lead the way,” Dad said.

  I sighed with relief that there was no camera hanging from his neck.

  Inside the dorm, Mom pointed to an ad on the board and Dad put his sunglasses on top of his head to read it. “‘Come join the Frisbee club.’” Yet another one of Utz’s activities. “‘Flying fun for everyone.’ You would have loved that club in school, wouldn’t you, Gail?”

  Mom shook her head. “Frisbee would have been better than Latin. I would have been so much cooler!”

  “As a former football jock, sweetheart, I’m telling you that Frisbee Club wouldn’t have made you any less dorky,” Dad said.

  “Ouch,” she replied, matching his grin.

  We headed down the hallway and stopped at my open door.

  Paige waved my parents inside. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Silver! I’m so happy to finally meet you.” She hugged Mom and shook Dad’s hand. “Can I offer you some hot mulled cider from our dorm kitchen?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to make us cider,” Mom said, hugging Paige back. “Sasha has told us about you, too. The dorm looks great!”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Silver!” Paige beamed.

  “Are these lemon squares?” Mom asked, looking at the prettily arranged yellow squares on the coffee table.

  “Those sure are lemon squares,” Paige said. “Help yourselves.”

  “Are your parents coming?” Dad asked her.

  “They should be here soon,” Paige said.

  “We look forward to meeting them,” Mom said. Paige headed for our closet and grabbed her jacket.

  “I have a few errands to run before my parents get here. I’ll see you guys later!” Paige said.

  “It sounds like you two are getting along well,” Mom said.

  I sat on Paige’s bed. “We’re getting along great. I’ve heard roommate horror stories, but I really got lucky with Paige. I can’t wait to meet her parents.”

  “What do they do?” Dad asked.

  “They own a restaurant in New York City and her dad’s also in real estate.”

  “That sounds interesting,” Dad said as he paged through my algebra textbook. He tried to mentally figure out one of the answers and I grinned when he looked stumped. Canterwood math frazzled even my banker dad!

  “Do you want a tour before Paige’s parents get here?” I asked, brushing a stray horsehair off my jeans.

  “That sounds great!” Mom said. She grabbed her purse from my bed and Dad eased himself out of my chair.

  I showed Mom and Dad the coffee shop, cafeteria, gym, and bowling lanes, but then I started to run out of ideas.

  “I want to see Charm,” Mom said, sidestepping a small pile of leaves. “I haven’t seen him since the show.

  “Okay,” I chirped. “He’d love to see you guys.”

  At least I didn’t have to worry about running into the Foxes. Callie had heard through the grapevine that Heather’s parents were on vacation in Bermuda.

  We entered the stable and headed down to Charm’s stall. The quiet aisles had only a few students milling around with their parents. “Charm is so happy,” I said. “He loves his deluxe stall.”

  “He should love it. It’s the size of the old ring at Briar Creek,” Dad said.

  I unlatched Charm’s door.

  “He’s toned up so much recently,” I said. “He can canter without getting tired for fifteen minutes longer than he could last year and his gaits are so much smoother—”

  A fuzzy, familiar pony named Royal stood inside Charm’s stall. Charm’s bucket and hay net were gone.

  “Where’s Charm, hon?” Dad asked. “Is this the wrong stall?”

  “No,” I snapped. “This is Charm’s stall.” When I reached to grab Royal’s halter, the palomino pony flattened his ears against his head and showed the whites of his eyes. I jerked my hand back and slammed the door shut.

  “Did Charm get moved?” Mom asked, peering into the stalls next to Royal. “Should we go find Mr. Conner?”

  “It’s a joke that some of us play on each other,” I said. “This pony bites and it’s a pain to move him around.”

  “Oh,” Mom said, “that’s a cute tradition.”

  “Wait here a sec,” I said. I stepped away from the stall. “Let me check down here for Charm.” While Mom and Dad read the nameplates of Charm’s stable mates, I jogged down the aisle, glancing in the stalls.

  Black Jack, Trix, Sunstruck, and Aristocrat were all in their own stalls. Royal’s stall was empty. Finally, I spotted a chestnut back. I dashed up to the stall. “Charm!” A horse that was definitely not Charm turned and looked at me. He swept his ears back and turned his back on me. I zigzagged across the aisle to check the remaining stalls. I was going to kill her. Familiar ears stuck up from a stall to my left. “Oh, Charm,” I said. I waved my parents over. “Here he is.”

  “I can tell you’ve been working him,” Dad said. “He looks amazing!”

  Charm’s chiseled legs had new muscles running from his knees to his hooves. He had lost his slight hay belly. I smiled, but kept my attention directed toward Royal’s stall. Heather would surely return to the scene of the crime.

  “How many hours a week are you riding now?” Dad gently stroked Charm’s soft muzzle. Charm leaned into Dad’s hand.

  “Twenty to twenty-five.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Heather saunter her way to Royal’s stall. “Can you wait here? I need to speak to my friend for a minute.” I tore off down the aisle.

  “That was too much,” I said to Heather.

  “Let’s not be all dramatic,” Heather said, smoothing her skirt.

  I stomped in the direction of Mr. Conner’s office and yelled over my shoulder. “I’m over this,” I said. “I’m telling Mr. Conner that you moved Charm out of his stall.”

  I knocked on Mr. Conner’s office door and, before he could call me inside, I pushed it open. A thin woman with dyed blond hair sat in one of Mr. Conner’s chairs. “Sasha,” Mr. Conner said. “I’m in a meeting at the moment. Is this an emergency?”

  “Yes, Mr. Conner! Heather moved Charm into a different stall. She took all of his gear and put him at the end of the stable.”

  Mr. Conner raised his hand, “Wait a minute, Sasha—”

  “She did,” I said, cutting him off. “She stuck Royal in his stall and I can’t get him out because he bites.”

  He gave a thin-lipped smile to the woman sitting in the chair. The woman’s posture stiffened and she brushed off her fitted beige jacket as she stood. “Sasha,” Mr. Conner warned. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “Mr. Conner, Charm could have been hurt—”

  Heather sidestepped me and slipped her arm around the waist of the tall woman in Mr. Conner’s office. “Sasha can’t take a little joke between friends sometimes,” Heather said.

  A familiar-looking man stepped into the office behind Heather.

  I was trapped in Mr. Conner’s office with the Foxes!

  I should have known Heather’s parents wouldn’t pass up the chance to grill Mr. Conner about her progress. Mr. Fox couldn’t
have been happy after Heather’s loss to Callie at the state show.

  “William,” Mrs. Fox said to Mr. Conner, as she adjusted the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist. “What’s going on?” I couldn’t believe I had ranted about Heather in front of her parents.

  “I’m not sure,” Mr. Conner said. “But we’re certainly going to find out.” He turned back to me. “Where are your parents?”

  “At Charm’s stall.”

  Heather’s mother slung an arm over her daughter’s shoulder. They looked like sisters.

  Mr. Conner motioned for me to step out. “Why don’t you bring them in.”

  Ten minutes later, with formal, stuffy greetings behind us, the Foxes and the Silvers sat side by side in Mr. Conner’s office.

  “What’s going on?” Mom asked Mr. Conner. “Is there a problem?” Poor Mom and Dad. I had dragged them in here without saying anything except that I’d explain the whole thing later. Mom looked as if we had been called to the principal’s office.

  Mr. Conner folded his hands and placed them on the desk. “I’m not sure what the problem is, Mrs. Silver. Heather? Sasha?”

  Heather clicked her Sidekick shut and smiled. “There’s no problem, Mr. Conner. I played a harmless little trick on Sasha. I guess because she was stressed about Parents’ Weekend, she got upset.” Heather glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

  Mr. Fox’s cell phone rang and he jumped up to answer it. “Sorry,” he said to us, covering the phone with his hand. “I’ve got to take this.” Mrs. Fox ignored him and kept her eyes on Heather.

  “Sasha? Is that true?” Mr. Conner asked.

  I glanced at Mrs. Fox, her skin stretched tight over her face. She raised her eyebrows and gave me an all-too-familiar stare.

  “There is something I should confess,” I said slowly, watching Heather’s face. Her mouth pressed into a tight line.

  “Mr. Conner, whatever she says, it’s not true,” Heather interjected.