Adam on his souped-up dirt bike.
This year was different, though. Brooke couldnât remember the last time Adam had showed up at thescreen door during breakfast, already bored and looking for something to do. In fact, sheâd barely seen him since school had let out almost a month earlier.
Itâs only because heâs 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 couldnât help remembering that Adam hadnât hung out with her much during the last few months of school, either. Heâd seemed more interested in spending time with other boysâplaying 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 hadnât been sure what to do about that, so she hadnât done anything. But it hurt a little to think maybe he didnât like her as much anymore.
Still, it wasnât as if she didnât have any other friends. Sheâd had plenty of people to sit with at lunch or pair up with for school projects. But none of those girls livedclose by, and none of them had called or even texted much so far that summer.
âWhatever,â Brooke muttered aloud, not wanting to think about that anymore. She was sure Adam hadnât really changed. They were older now, and busier, and it made sense that they couldnât spend every second of the day hanging out the way they had when they were little kids.
For instance, Brookeâs new training plans would probably keep her just as busy as swim team practices and stuff were keeping Adam. Reading her friendsâ posts had given her lots of ideas, and suddenly she wished sheâd stayed home to get started after all.
Then she remembered something her old riding teacher had said onceâthat 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 sheâd sort of forgotten about it lately.
Now the idea inspired her anew. She sat up straighter on Foxyâs back, shortening her reins, which sheâd let slip out to the buckle. Foxy stopped, obviously thinking that was what her rider wanted.
âNo, itâs okay, girl. Walk on.â Brooke clucked and nudged the ponyâs 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 wasnât very good, so they hadnât done much. Now Brooke tried to remember what the book had said.
âOutside leg on, bend to the insideâor was it to the outside?â Brooke couldnât 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.
âNo, Foxy,â Brooke said. âYouâre supposed to be leg-yielding.â
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!
Oh well, Brooke thought. Maybe I need to look at that dressage book again. Or maybe Iâll look up some tips on the Internet later.
She was almost to Adamâs house anyway, so she gave up on training for the moment, instead pushing Foxy into a trot to get there faster.
Adam was in his front yard, kicking a half-deflated soccer ball back and forth between his bare feet.
This year was different, though. Brooke couldnât remember the last time Adam had showed up at thescreen door during breakfast, already bored and looking for something to do. In fact, sheâd barely seen him since school had let out almost a month earlier.
Itâs only because heâs 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 couldnât help remembering that Adam hadnât hung out with her much during the last few months of school, either. Heâd seemed more interested in spending time with other boysâplaying 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 hadnât been sure what to do about that, so she hadnât done anything. But it hurt a little to think maybe he didnât like her as much anymore.
Still, it wasnât as if she didnât have any other friends. Sheâd had plenty of people to sit with at lunch or pair up with for school projects. But none of those girls livedclose by, and none of them had called or even texted much so far that summer.
âWhatever,â Brooke muttered aloud, not wanting to think about that anymore. She was sure Adam hadnât really changed. They were older now, and busier, and it made sense that they couldnât spend every second of the day hanging out the way they had when they were little kids.
For instance, Brookeâs new training plans would probably keep her just as busy as swim team practices and stuff were keeping Adam. Reading her friendsâ posts had given her lots of ideas, and suddenly she wished sheâd stayed home to get started after all.
Then she remembered something her old riding teacher had said onceâthat 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 sheâd sort of forgotten about it lately.
Now the idea inspired her anew. She sat up straighter on Foxyâs back, shortening her reins, which sheâd let slip out to the buckle. Foxy stopped, obviously thinking that was what her rider wanted.
âNo, itâs okay, girl. Walk on.â Brooke clucked and nudged the ponyâs 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 wasnât very good, so they hadnât done much. Now Brooke tried to remember what the book had said.
âOutside leg on, bend to the insideâor was it to the outside?â Brooke couldnât 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.
âNo, Foxy,â Brooke said. âYouâre supposed to be leg-yielding.â
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!
Oh well, Brooke thought. Maybe I need to look at that dressage book again. Or maybe Iâll look up some tips on the Internet later.
She was almost to Adamâs house anyway, so she gave up on training for the moment, instead pushing Foxy into a trot to get there faster.
Adam was in his front yard, kicking a half-deflated soccer ball back and forth between his bare feet.
Similar Books
Molly Brown
B. A. Morton
Harvest of War
Hilary Green
The Eternity Cure
Julie Kagawa
People of the Dark
T.M. Wright
Chasing the Heiress
Rachael Miles
Jezebel
K Larsen
No More Lonely Nights
Charlotte Lamb
Running Blind
Shirlee McCoy
The Boleyns
David Loades