Raja, Story of a Racehorse Read Free Page A

don’t understand them, even if you are trying to do what you think they want. Usually you just have to guess.”
    She nudged me gently. “Remember this always: even when life is hard, never, ever give up.”

    Faster, FASTER!
    No one could beat me if I really tried. Sometimes I let Max win, but I was faster and he knew it, always pushing me and trying to catch me out unexpectedly so that he could win. Of course, only winning counts; second or third is losing, every racehorse knows that. That’s why we try so hard.
    Go hard or go home.
    Max sometimes won our play races on sheer willpower. He could outlast anyone. He wanted it so badly. It was quite amazing, really — mental toughness, Bob called it. That’s why he was my best friend. He hated to lose.
    Shaddy didn’t think the same way. An old soul in a bright young chestnut body, he loved to sleep, even more than the older broodmares. Even though he was relaxed — lazy, really, if you want to know the truth — he could get the job done. Every once in a while he would be right there with us as we galloped up the hill, but he didn’t see the point in working too hard. He just smiled when we teased him, as if he had more important things to worry about than winning.
    What could be more important than winning?

    The day after the Sheikh’s visit, Princess Ayesha walked into our field. I smelled her first — gardenias and another sweet smell. I stood still, on guard. She walked slowly, holding out her hand, crinkling something.
    What does she want?
    I held my breath, standing motionless. She came closer, blowing on my nose in greeting. I watched her warily. She inched forward, slowly.
    Suddenly she breathed in, holding her breath with a finger under her nose.
    A-CHOO!
    I spun, then sprinted to the top of the hill.
    The next day was the same. She held out a pink-and-white, sweet-smelling offering. I ignored it but it did smell good. I let her get a little closer before snorting and galloping off. On the third day, I let her get close enough to place her hand on my neck. I froze, but let her stroke me. I sniffed the treat in her hand and licked it — delicious — then picked it up in my mouth, letting the sweetness linger on my tongue. Letting out the breath that I had been holding in a rumbling sigh, I rubbed my head on her shoulder.
    After that, she came every day. When I saw her, I trotted up to her and rubbed my head on her shoulder, then nosed her hand, looking for my treat.

    â€œHello Raja, my sweet. Here’s your peppermint. Did you have to get gunk on my new white shirt? I should know better than to wear white around horses. Oh well, I don’t care, but my mother will kill me. Ugh! I have to have dinner with my grandmother tonight and be formal and polite. All I want to do is to hang out with you and the other foals.” I nudged her hand again.
    â€œYou greedy thing,” She laughed, holding another peppermint out to me. Princess Ayesha flicked her well-brushed, waist-long black hair behind her ear, her row of colored glass bangles on her arm shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight.
    She suddenly hugged me, whispering into my ear, “Raja, you’re the only one I can really talk to. I never know if people really like me for me for myself or whether they just like me because my father is a Sheikh. We’re alike, you know. We’re both prisoners. People wish they could have what I have, but I wish I could be a normal teenager. I’m 16. I should have a little freedom.” She looked me in the eye, patting my neck gently and hugging me.
    â€œYou’re my only true friend. You don’t care if I’m rich or poor. I can be dirty and silly and it doesn’t make a difference to you. You’re the most perfect thing in the universe and I will always love you.”
    She found the shade of the big tree by the gate, sat down on a root and started to sing, lulling me to sleep as