Blue Ribbon Summer (4 page)

Well, not
exactly
like them, of course. They were all one of a kind. But if Brooke imagined spending two weeks with girls
almost
like Nina, Maddie, and Haley, the whole idea of camp suddenly seemed a lot less scary—and a lot more fun.

[BROOKE]
Yah, I can't wait. This should be the perfect chance for me & Foxy to get more real training.

[HALEY]
Xlnt! What will u be working on?

[MADDIE]
More jumping maybe?

[BROOKE]
I'm not sure—I don't rly know anything about the camp yet. But remember Foxy is still pretty green, so I'm sure whatever we work on will be good for her. And me, too!

They all chatted for a few more minutes, and then Nina had to log off to set the table for dinner, and Haley needed to go feed her pony. Brooke and Maddie said good-bye, too.

After she logged off the Pony Post site, Brooke pulled up a search engine and typed in the name of the camp. Camp Pocomoke had a website, but Brooke was disappointed to find that it wasn't very detailed. There were only a few photos, including one of a teenage girl jumping a big
bay horse in a tidy riding ring and a couple of distant shots of barns and paddocks. Still, at least the site included an address, and when Brooke located the camp on a mapping site, she recognized the general area right away. It was a beautiful, unspoiled part of the peninsula near Pocomoke Sound. Brooke's family had visited several of the parks and small towns nearby, and there was lots of wildlife around and some great spots for hiking and camping.

Brooke put down the computer and headed out to the barn. The sun was sinking toward the western horizon, but it was still hot. Foxy was dozing under the oak tree across the fence from the draft horses. But the pony pricked her ears and wandered over when Brooke ducked under the fence.

“Guess what, baby girl?” Brooke whispered, sliding her arms around the mare's neck and breathing in her familiar scent. “We're going to camp! And we're going to learn a lot, and make new friends, and have lots of fun. . . .”

“Are you sure you don't want any dessert, sweetie?” Brooke's mother asked as she set bowls of ice cream in front of the twins.

Brooke shook her head. It was the big day, and she'd had a whole herd of butterflies in her stomach since the moment she'd woken up that morning. It had been all she could do to choke down a few bites of her tuna sandwich at lunch, and she'd done little more than push the food around on her plate during the family's early dinner.

Her stepfather hurried into the kitchen. “Trailer's hitched up,” he announced, wiping his hands on a dish towel hanging on the back of a chair. “Ready to roll?”

“Almost.” Brooke glanced at her watch, which she'd actually remembered to put on for once. Adam should have showed up by now, but there was no sign of him. “Um, but I should probably put my stuff in the car first.”

“You haven't done that yet?” Brooke's mother sounded alarmed. “Go, do it! We need to be back here at a reasonable hour—I'm supposed to lead the church group meeting tonight, remember?”

Brooke wasn't sure how she was supposed to forget. Her mother had only mentioned it about fifty times. “Okay, okay. I put my saddle and barn stuff in earlier, so the rest will only take me a minute.”

She hurried out into the living room, where she'd piled her suitcase, duffel, and sleeping bag beside the door. She grabbed her pillow off the top of the pile and stepped outside, squinting in the late-afternoon sunlight. A small stock trailer was parked in the driveway, hitched to one of the big diesel pickups from the used car lot. The trailer wasn't fancy, but Brooke knew she was lucky they had one at all. The only reason her parents had bought it was that it doubled as a way for her stepfather to haul car parts around. And it worked well enough for that as well as for Foxy.

I just hope Foxy remembers how to load,
Brooke thought, hugging her pillow to her chest. The mare hadn't been near the trailer in over a year. Brooke had wanted to practice a couple of times before leaving for Camp Pocomoke, but her stepfather had been storing a spare engine or something in the trailer, and by the time he got around to unloading it, they'd run out of time.

After she'd finished loading her stuff, Brooke glanced up the road, hoping Adam hadn't forgotten today was the day. She'd texted him that morning to remind him, and he'd promised to come by to help on his way home from
the pool. Even though he wasn't that interested in horses, he was the one who'd helped Brooke train Foxy to load in the first place when Foxy was two. Brooke's first few tentative attempts to teach the pony to get into the trailer hadn't gone that well—Brooke had been nervous and uncertain, and Foxy had picked up on that and refused to go anywhere near the scary metal monster parked in her pasture.

When Brooke had complained to Adam about it, he'd seen it as an interesting challenge. After watching a few videos and reading some online articles, he'd convinced the pony to get into the trailer on his very first try. Brooke had been amazed, and envious. It didn't seem fair that he could teach Foxy something she couldn't.

Still, the important thing was that he'd done it. And for a year or so after that, Brooke had practiced leading Foxy into and out of the trailer as often as she could, even if they weren't going anywhere. Sometimes she'd even feed the pony her dinner in there just to make it seem like a good place to be.

But then things had gotten busier at the car lot and Brooke's stepfather had needed the trailer more often, and
it had just seemed easier to keep it there instead of at home. That had been the end of Foxy's trailer-loading practice.

Her stepfather burst out onto the front step, startling Brooke out of her thoughts. “Ready? Grab the pony and let's load up.”

Brooke glanced up and down the street again. “Adam's supposed to come help me get her on the trailer,” she said. “I'm sure he'll be here soon.”

Her mother emerged in time to hear her. “We can't wait much longer. Here, text him and see if he's on his way.”

She handed Brooke her smartphone. Brooke quickly sent Adam a text:

Where r u? It's time to load Foxy.

She stood there, holding her mother's phone. Her stepfather climbed into the truck and started the engine. He left it idling and hopped out again.

“Well?” he called.

At that moment the phone buzzed in Brooke's hand. It was a return text from Adam:

Sry, forgot. Went to town w/ the guys after practice.

Brooke gritted her teeth as disappointment flooded through her. What had happened to Adam? A year ago, he never would have let her down like this!

But she pushed those thoughts aside. What was the point in dwelling on them? “He's not coming,” she told her parents. “I guess I'll have to load her by myself.”

That turned out to be easier said than done. Foxy followed her willingly out to the front yard. But as soon as Brooke turned her toward the open trailer door, the mare planted her feet and snorted as if the trailer was a horse-eating dragon.

“What's wrong with Foxy?” Emma called out from the front step, where both twins were sitting, watching the show.

Brooke didn't answer. “Come on, girl,” she said into Foxy's ear. “You can do this.”

She turned the mare in a circle and tried again. And again. Each time, the mare stopped and refused to go any
farther, no matter how hard Brooke pulled on her halter.

“What's the problem, Brooke?” Her stepfather sounded impatient. “We can't do this all afternoon.”

“I know, sorry.” Brooke took a deep breath, trying not to cry. Why did Foxy have to be so stubborn right now? “I just can't get her to go on.”

“Here, let me try.” Her stepfather strode over and grabbed the lead rope out of her hand. Before Brooke could protest—he didn't know what he was doing, he was going to scare Foxy—he'd given a cluck and a firm tug on the rope.

Foxy tossed her head and backed up a step. Brooke's stepfather reached back and smacked the mare on the rump with his free hand. That startled the mare forward, and before she—or Brooke—quite realized what was happening, Foxy was in the trailer.

“See?” Brooke's stepfather sounded satisfied as he quickly tied the mare and hopped out to swing the door shut. “It doesn't have to be such a drama.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Brooke peered into the trailer through the slats. Now that Foxy was aboard, she didn't seem
nervous at all. She was already nosing at the hay Brooke had stuffed into the hayrack earlier.

Brooke sighed. It was a good thing she and Foxy were going to camp, because they both obviously needed some work.

CHAPTER

“OH, THIS AREA IS SO
lovely.” Brooke's mother peered out the front windshield. “Isn't it nice, Brooke? You're just a few miles from Pocomoke Sound here. Look, there's the sign. Turn here, Roger.”

Brooke glanced back to check on Foxy, though she couldn't see much from the truck—just the tips of the mare's ears between the slats of the trailer. Then she leaned forward to check out the sign. It was fancier-looking than she'd expected, with the words
POCOMOKE STABLES
spelled out in fancy gold letters. Below that, smaller letters read
BOARDING TRAINING SALES
. The driveway was lined with twin rows of tall shade trees, beyond which Brooke caught a
glimpse of sleek horses grazing in large, grassy pastures.

“Nice place,” her stepfather said approvingly as they rounded a curve in the driveway and the rest of the farm came into view.

Brooke nodded. Off to the left was a huge riding ring with neatly raked footing and a course of colorful jumps. A woman was riding a tall, glossy chestnut horse in circles at the far end. Just past the ring was the barn, which was long and low and at least twice the size of the one where Brooke had taken riding lessons. One end opened onto a large paved courtyard, and on the far side of that stood the main house, a two-story brick Colonial with tidy black shutters and a deep front porch. There were several smaller outbuildings scattered around, but Brooke didn't take in the details.

“Yes, very nice,” her mother was saying. “I didn't realize it was such a fancy place.”

“Only the best for our girl, eh?” Brooke's stepfather tossed Brooke a wink in the rearview, then returned his focus to driving. “Suppose I should pull up over there, near the barn?”

“Um, I guess so.” Brooke was watching as the woman in the ring turned her horse and sent him over one of the jumps, which the horse cleared easily. Nearby, Brooke noticed a second woman watching from the rail. She was on foot but dressed in riding clothes that matched those of her friend—beige breeches, tall boots, and a polo shirt.

Brooke swallowed hard, feeling intimidated. What kind of place was this? It certainly didn't look anything like the summer camps she'd seen in the movies. It wasn't anything much like the camps her Pony Post friends had described either. So far, she didn't even see any other kids!