Riding Star

Georgie’s eyes went wide. “No, Alice! I have not been out on a snog-a-thon with James Kirkwood!”

“Well, what about Riley then?” Alice asked.

Georgie shook her head. “There was no kissing! We hardly even spoke. I took the flowers and then I kind of ran. It was pretty bad. I was confused.”

“But you’re dating Riley, right?” Alice said. “I thought everything was all on with you two after the School Formal?”

Georgie flopped face-down on the bed and groaned. “Is it? I don’t know. I thought it was, but then he never even called me. I spent all the holidays wondering what was going on and thinking that maybe it was over and now he turns up with flowers.”

“Don’t complain. At least someone is buying you flowers,” Alice replied. “I’m giving up on Cam.”

“Really?” Georgie said. “I thought you guys were getting on really well.”

“We do get on well,” Alice said. “It’s just… he doesn’t think of me, you know, like that. I’m not some bombshell like Kennedy Kirkwood.”

“That’s not true,” Georgie said. “It is!” Alice insisted. “Cameron stares at her like a puppy looking at a bag of Purina. He doesn’t even notice me.”

“You just need to get his attention. You’ve got to do something to make him notice you.”

There was a knock at the door and Emily stuck her head in.

“Are you guys coming to dinner or what? We’ve been waiting for you for ages!”

*

When Georgie had first arrived at Blainford last September the walk to the dining hall each evening hadn’t been a big deal. It had been early autumn and the stroll up the tree-lined driveway had been kind of fun.

Now winter had set in and the five hundred metres from their boarding house to the main buildings of the school seemed like an intrepid hike up the Himalayas. It was freezing cold, and the girls were bundled up in school scarves, jerseys and blazers over their winter uniform of a navy wool pinafore and long black wool tights.

“I think we should be allowed to layer our jods underneath our pinafores in winter,” Alice said, teeth chattering with cold as they walked round the quad to the door of the dining hall.

“We could wear them underneath our tights,” Emily suggested. “Maybe no one would notice.”

When they reached the dining-room doors they were relieved to see that the queue didn’t stretch all the way outside and they were able to go straight indoors where it was warm. The dining room was one of the oldest buildings in the school. Outside, it was red Georgian brick, like the other buildings that surrounded the quad. Inside, the walls were dark-wood panelled, and hung with photos of famous riders who had once attended the academy. According to the blackboard menu, tonight’s dinner was ‘Meatloaf a la Betty-Lou’.

Alice wrinkled up her nose. “If the menu says meatloaf then why does it smell like fish?”

Daisy King shrugged. “I suppose it’s better than fish smelling like meatloaf.”

The girls took their loaded trays and stood in the centre of the dining hall, waiting for Georgie to have her food dished up. At the far side of the room, sitting at their usual table, were the rest of the eventing gang – Alex and Cameron and Matt and Nicholas. The girls began to walk over to join them when Georgie heard her name being called.

“Georgie, we’re here!”

Georgie saw Isabel Weiss waving at her, beckoning her over. Isabel was sitting with Mitty and Reina.

“Come and sit with us,” Isabel called out to her cheerfully.

Georgie didn’t know what to do. Daisy, Alice and Emily had all stopped and were watching her.

“Georgie?” Alice said. “What’s going on?”

Georgie looked at the eager faces of the Dressage Set.

“Don’t be silly,” Alice muttered to Georgie. “You don’t have to sit with them! It doesn’t make any difference if you’re not in the eventing class any more. You can still sit with us.”

Georgie shook her head. “I really should go and say hi,” she said, gesturing towards the dressages. “I’ll catch up with you guys later back at the house, OK?”

Alice looked upset. “OK, whatever.”

The dressage girls moved over to make room for their newest member.

“Hi, Georgie!” Mitty grinned at her as she sat down. “Fun lesson today, huh?”

“Ummm, yeah,” Georgie said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “All that stuff with the walking? Awesome.”

No one else at the table laughed and Georgie realised that Mitty was quite serious.

“It will take you a while to get used to dressage class,” Isabel said. “Bettina says this is because cross-country ruins your position.”

Mitty agreed. “It’s true. I was only in Tara’s class for one term and it’s played havoc with my hands!” She looked deeply upset.

“I don’t know… I think my hands are OK,” Georgie protested weakly.

Reina Romero pushed her dinner tray aside decisively and looked at Georgie. “We were thinking that we should all get together for a ride after school. Maybe tomorrow?”

“That sounds great,” Georgie said. “I took Belle out for a hack today – the bridle paths are a bit frozen over, but we had a good canter up the hill behind the school. Belle took these really big canter strides through the snow – it was brilliant. We could go for a ride up there?”

“No,” Reina was adamant. “I do not think so. Let us meet at the arena and we can do some schooling.”

“It’s not that cold outside,” Georgie insisted. “If you wear a puffer jacket and gloves it’s fine, honest.”

Reina remained stony-faced. “I only ride Alba Clemante in the arena.” Alba Clemante was Reina’s horse, a grey Andalusian that had been bred from extremely rare dressage bloodlines.

“Oh,” Georgie was taken aback. “Well, maybe when the snow has thawed a bit we could go for a ride up into the hills one weekend.”

“Georgie,” Isabel said, adopting a schoolteacher-ish tone, “we don’t really like to hack the horses out. They are dressage horses. Back in Germany, I only ever rode in the arena.”

“You never hack out?” Georgie was amazed. “You mean you just ride around in the dressage ring the whole time?”

Mitty shrugged. “It is too risky for injuries otherwise. Even with boots on, you might damage their legs. Besides, the horses need regular schooling.”

“Horses get bored in the arena,” Georgie countered. “They need a break from their work – just like we do.”

“Dressage horses need discipline,” Reina said flatly.

“And I need a fruit juice,” Georgie sighed, admitting defeat and getting up from the table. “Does anyone else want one?”

Georgie sat back down with her juice and zoned out the conversation around her. She stared over at the eventing table where it looked like Cameron had constructed a puissance course on his dinner plate, building a wall out of mashed potato and carrot sticks, which Alex was pretending to jump with a bread roll while Emily, Daisy and Alice cheered him on.