Strike One

B circle right twenty meters, extended trot. I was practicing yet another faux test I had made myself in preparation for The Day. The Day was also known as my first show under Equewood Academy (pronounced: ec-wee-wood academy). Nerves were never scarce now, I was not only competing, but also unofficially proving to the rest of the intermediate team that I was where I deserved to be.

I glanced at my watch, 6:30 am. I slowed to a forward walk at long rein, cooling Vanilla down so I could get back to my dorm, shower, dress, and clean my room up for 7:30. Ten minutes later I called it a morning and swung my leg over the pummel and lead Vanilla out of the massive indoor arena. Vanilla had worked up a sweat, but was not over done, she still had energy left for my lesson at 9 this morning. I untacked her quickly and efficiently, then ran a soft body brush over her black, glistening coat.

I strode across campus in my tall, scuffed leather boots, the dew shining them as I took a short cut off the path. Helmet in hand, I swung open the door and smiled at Leah, our dorm monitor.

I skipped up the stairs softly to the second floor and opened my door, closing is gently in case of late morning sleepers. A sense of loneliness overwhelmed me: I had no roommate, or anyone that I could call a friend for that matter. I had come half way through the school year just as second semester started.

With the shower on hot, I scrubbed the last of the dirt from this morning's ride, as well as the growing, gnawing fear that I would never be ready for this show. I hummed to calm myself and shoved my PJ's back on before standing on front of my closet deciding what to wear. I opted black leggings, mustard yellow corduroy skirt, and a soft, black sweater. And mustard yellow socks to make my black army-style boots show up.

I blow dried my dark brown hair, focusing on that task at hand. I didn't bother flat ironing it, but instead, when my hair was still damp, threw some mousse in my hair before putting my hair up into a curly, messy bun. I knew I was going to pay back for it later when the knots came into play. Later this morning while I would have to battle my hair to put it into something decent-looking that fit under my helmet, but my care had just gone out the window.

Snatching a hot pink binder labelled Math/English on the spine as well as my math textbook, I headed out the door with them so I could finish the last of the problems during breakfast. Was there ever an abundance of homework in this place. I buried my self deeper into my black coat and pulled my burnt orange Herschel beany over my ears to warm my vastly cooling body. A couple guys, oblivious to the cold, chatted and laughed together, heading in the same direction as me. I picked out the cutest guy of the bunch immediate. Ty Hendrickson. Not that he'd ever like me. I was slightly insecure and didn't have the courage to push myself on people. Ty was the last of the guys to enter the cafeteria and held open the door for me. He winked, and I blushed.

"Hey, you new on campus?"

"Day nine here." I realized that sounded odd, why hadn't I just said something like, "Yep, came last week" or something. Ugh. I mentally kicked myself.

"That's tough." He handed me his phone, "Punch your number in and ding me if you need anything."

"Thanks." I said, "Sure you won't get annoyed?" I teased, he grinned, "We-ell... now that you say it. I gotta catch up with the rest of them," he nodded his head toward the rest of the guys twenty feet in front of him, "Or I'll never hear the end of it." He jogged to the rest of them. I was stunned.

What.

Had.

Just.

Happened.

I mentally freaked out for a moment. No. Way. That guy did not just ask me for my number. And I'd made such an honest fool of myself!

"Egg salad, hon?" I came to the present.

"I'm good." Egg salad=too many calories. I ended up with a single slice of French Toast and some OJ. Then realized I had to find a seat. I eyed an empty table with four chairs on it's own in the corner, and balancing my plate on my binder and holding my plastic cup in the other, headed over. I focused on not slipping. Not spilling. I did not need a remix of last week, day three on campus.

I set my plate and cup down and opened my binder in the spare room beside, it was a good thing I was on my own, room was almost scarce as it was.

I tightened the girth for my morning lesson, and then slipped the bridle onto Vanilla's head, she accepted the snaffle bit eagerly.

"Good girl." I murmured, "We'll show them today, won't we? We deserve to be where we are, right?" I led my mare into indoor arena 4, and then mounted easily. That mounting had not always been easy, especially on a horse that was 16.5 hands. Practice made perfect.

We warmed up our horses, trotting around the arena, I dug my seat bones in a little farther, eased my hands slightly forward, and moved my legs slightly back. Vanilla responded beautifully by extending her trot. I sat to it and focused. My eyes stayed between her ears, as I did a small half halt. She responded by easing her head down into a perfect arch.

"Good morning everyone." We all slowed our horses into a line between the dressage markers B and E. Mr. Thatcher, our coach, nodded at each of us.

"In a moment Jeff and Case will be in here to set a small jump course." He told us, pacing across the arena, inwardly, a little panic jumped out, memories of The Bad Fall swarmed my head. I took a couple deep breaths and steadied myself, after all, I had recovered, hadn't I?

In a couple moments, the jumps were up, I prayed that I would not have to go first. This was my first time jumping here in front of everybody. Nerves rushed through my veins.

"Okay, first, I want to see each of you take the jumps, then we'll review."

"Vienna, you're first."

Panic clawed at my heart, and I forced a couple breaths before I moved out of the line on the side. It was time.

I moved into a canter and took the first oxer effortlessly. I focused on the next jump at about a height of three feet. I counted down the strides, and then we lifted, soaring. I forced my heels down, my chin up as I landed and aimed for the next one, a smidge higher.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

O-

We lifted a bit soon, clipping the rail, but not hitting it down. I mentally slapped myself. I focused on the next one, I couldn't hit it, not even a little bit. I counted down the strides, moved into two-point and lifted off, this time perfectly over the triple combination. One more to go.

"Mr. Thatcher! Mr. Thatcher! My-" The door to the arena swung open, thumping the wall loudly behind it. Vanilla spooked just as we lifted off, she spun sideways as I sailed over the jump without her.