Chosen Read Free

top of the piano with excitement. “As long as you keeppracticing on your own over the summer, we’ll be ready to start competing in the fall. We’ll keep in touch via a locked glee club message board that I’ve been working on. We have something to discuss already: It’s time to decide on a name for our club.”
    â€œCool!” Jared said. “It’s about time we got a name.”
    I smiled along with Jared and everyone else, but part of my happy look was fake. I loved the club and I’d been a member all year, but would I be here when we got a name? Or when we started competing? My feelings about Canterwood versus Yates changed daily. One day, all I wanted was to be a student at what looked like my dream school. The next, I wanted to stay where I felt comfortable—where I fit in and had friends and was even popular .
    A place I could excel even if . . . even if I could never jump again. I loved riding, but I didn’t know if going back to a life of equestrian competition was what I wanted. Sometimes, I thought it was. Other times, I wanted everyone to forget that I was a “good” dressage rider and I thought I’d be happy just pleasure riding Cricket from now on.
    Would the right decision be to start all over again and risk everything at a brand new school? Was it wrong if I started feeling comfortable enough at Yates to be justanother normal student—one who studied hard and got good grades and did nothing but safe, fun glee club after school? No one shouting at me about confidence, or moving past bad memories. Would it be so wrong to be part of an ensemble for once rather than to ride solo?
    You’re getting ahead of yourself. You don’t even know if you got in. So stop obsessing until you get an answer—which will very, VERY likely be thanks, but no thanks .
    But when I got home, I couldn’t help myself—I walked over to the wire mail bin where whoever checked the mail placed it for everyone else to look through. Dad’s mail was already gone and Becca had a card from Gram in a bright orange envelope.
    Nothing for me.
    I stared at the basket for a while—not sure if I was disappointed or kind of glad that there was nothing from Canterwood.

DESIGNER BOOTS TO FILL
    THE FINAL VERTICAL LOOMED IN FRONT OF me during Wednesday’s group riding lesson. It looked higher than any jump I’d ever attempted. Sure, I’d cleared fences higher than the approaching blue rails before. But ever since I’d applied to Canterwood Crest Academy months ago, the jumps—and the stakes—had gotten higher.
    â€œLauren!” Kim, my riding instructor, called across the outdoor arena. “Tighten your reins and slow Cricket. She’s trying to rush the last jump.”
    Come on , I told myself. You’re supposed to be Lauren Towers. You should be able to do this stuff .
    I pushed my weight into the saddle to signal the Welsh-Cob pony mix to slow. Jumping wasn’t my strongest area, but it was Cricket’s. The school horse, sweetand, more important, smart, knew just when to try and catch me off guard.
    Cricket hesitated, almost as if trying to decide whether or not to listen. She could be a little hard to handle sometimes, but that had been Kim’s intention when I’d come to Briar Creek. She’d wanted to challenge me by giving me Cricket to ride. I’d disagreed at first, especially after . . . no, NOT thinking about that now . I shut the memory out of my brain and tried to focus on my ride.
    Cricket’s small hooves churned up the arena dirt and she tossed her head, not wanting to slow. I did a half-halt, but Cricket surged ahead. Panic rippled in my stomach.
    It didn’t help that a group of students gathered along the fence, watching my ride. At the opposite end of the arena, I spotted Ana, offering me silent support. Brielle hadn’t been able to make it today because she had to babysit.
    In my head, I