At Top Speed (Quartz Creek Ranch) Read online

  “That’s plenty,” said Ma Etty, interrupting him. “Thank you, Drew. Now, Ella? Will you tell us a little about yourself?”

  Ella had thought about this on the drive up, so she was prepared.

  “My name is Ella Pierson,” she said smoothly. “I’m going into sixth grade at my new school in Petaluma, California. My favorite activities are drawing, riding my bike, and hanging out with friends. I’m excited to be here and meet everyone.” She glanced around the table, smiling at each of the other kids in turn. They looked back at her like she’d descended from a UFO.

  Ma Etty blinked. “We’re glad you could make it, too, Ella.”

  Ella nodded back gracefully. If the other kids wanted to act like they’d been sentenced to six weeks in prison, that was their problem. She was excited about this place, even if they weren’t.

  Introductions continued with the girl sitting next to Ella, who so far had not spoken. Now, Ella had a chance to size her up. She looked almost like a young version of Madison: hazel-brown eyes, with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and a pretty face.

  “I’m Jordan McAdam.” The girl didn’t even look at Ella. “I’m from California, too, actually. Pretty close to you. Near Clearlake.”

  Ella hadn’t been near Clearlake much. Only rednecks live out there, Dad would say. But it explained something about how Jordan was dressed. Ella might not have noticed her clothes except in comparison to Drew, who sported a fresh, striped T-shirt from American Eagle and new-looking dark jeans. Jordan wore a thin flannel shirt that looked a century old and a pair of holey, stained jeans.

  “Clearlake,” said Ella, trying to think of something nice to say. “Not much out there.”

  Jordan shrugged and went back to her dinner.

  Ma Etty coughed.

  “Okay, thank you, Jordan. Next?”

  It was the last boy’s turn. He sullenly looked up from eating.

  “My name is Kim,” he said. “Kim Do Yung. I’m from New Hampshire. I traveled an exceptionally long way just to get dirty and clean stalls.” He made a face. “My dad teaches Korean at Dartmouth College, and my mom teaches Communications.”

  Both Drew and Ash chuckled.

  Kim glanced at each of them. “What?”

  “Nothing,” said Ash, laughing harder. “It’s just . . . is your name short for Kimberly?”

  Kim gave him a flat look. “No. It’s Korean. And in Korea, Kim is a boy’s name.”

  Ella saw her chance to redeem herself in front of the Bridles after her dad’s fit in the parking lot—but Jordan spoke first.

  “Some names are both,” she said, still not looking up from her food. “Like mine. I’ve met tons of boy Jordans, and a few girl Jordans, and that’s just in California.”

  “It’s a great point,” said Ma Etty. “A lot of names can go either way. And around the country—sometimes you’ll meet people with names that seem strange to you. Your name, Drew, is probably strange to a lot of people.”

  “Uh . . .” He looked momentarily perplexed. “Because it’s not a nickname for Andrew, like most people named Drew?”

  “Exactly.”

  Ash rolled his eyes. “Not really that strange,” he muttered.

  “I like it,” said Ella, not wanting to miss her chance to chime in. “Kim is a nice name for a boy.”

  But Kim glared at her. “My name isn’t ‘nice,’ ” he said. “It’s fierce.”

  Ella returned the look and bristled. She’d just been trying to help.

  “Ooh,” said Ash. “Fearsome Kim. He’s short. He’s scary. He’ll suffocate you with kimchee.”

  In an ESPN voice, Drew said, “Our next wrestler is Fe-e-e-earsome Kim!”

  Kim looked like he wouldn’t mind putting his fork through Drew’s eye.

  “All right, all right,” said Ma Etty, holding up both hands. “No making fun of anyone at my dinner table.”

  “We weren’t making fun,” said Ash. “We were imagining Kim’s pro wrestling secret identity.”

  Ma Etty exhaled sharply. “None of that, either.”

  “Who ate all the hamburgers?” asked Drew, picking up the empty plate. Ella wondered if this guy would ever shut up.

  “New girl did,” said Kim, pointing at Ella as she took a bite of her hamburger.

  “But I’m still hungry!” moaned Drew.

  “Right,” said Ella, trying her hardest not to get mad. “Sorry for taking one whole hamburger so I don’t starve.”

  “Can’t let her starve,” said Ash.

  “But what about me?” said Drew. “What if I starve?”

  Ella started steaming. What was wrong with these kids? And was she really stuck with them for the next six weeks?

  “Have more potatoes instead,” said Fletch, passing the bowl of home fries.

  “Potatoes do not equal meat,” said Ash, and the table devolved into another argument.

  Under her breath, Jordan said, “I guess introductions are over.”

  Ella took a big bite of her hamburger to occupy her hands. She was already hankering to sock one of these idiots right in the mouth, but she stopped herself. She couldn’t mess this up already—not after promising herself a fresh start, away from Dad and his temper.

  It was going to be a long summer.

  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  Even though it was dark, finding the way back to the girls’ bunkhouse was easy with the boys galloping ahead of them across the chicken yard.

  “Fe-e-e-earsome Kim!” Drew shouted, sending the chickens squawking back to their coop.

  “Shut up, dude!” hissed Ash.

  “Don’t boss me around, Dallas.”

  “I’m going to put earwigs in both your ears if you don’t be quiet,” said Kim. “While you’re sleeping.”

  Fletch had tried for a little while to corral them into some semblance of order, but it looked like he’d already given up as the boys ran up the stairs of their bunkhouse and vanished inside, hooting and hollering and sulking respectively.

  The girls’ bunk was stone silent in comparison. Madison went into her room to start getting ready for bed. As Ella took off her shoes at the door, Jordan climbed up the ladder to the bunk near the window.

  “Oh,” she said. “My duffel bag is gone.”

  Here come the water works, Ella thought.

  Madison peered out of her room. “Your bag is gone?” she asked, eyebrows drawing together. “I hope one of the boys didn’t come in here and swipe it, thinking they’d play a practical joke.”

  “It wasn’t the boys,” Ella said, neatly stashing her new white and pink sneakers next to Jordan’s scuffed, dirty ones. “I moved it. I wanted that bunk for the light to help me wake up in the morning, or else I’m all groggy and grouchy. And you don’t want to see me grouchy in the morning.”

  A frown crossed Madison’s face. “Ella, it’s first-come, first-served,” she said. “And Jordan called that bunk first—”

  “It’s fine,” said Jordan, hopping back down the ladder, then going up the one nearest the door. There, she found her duffel bag waiting and nodded to herself. “I don’t care which bunk I have.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Madison, still watching Ella, though she was speaking to Jordan. “Because—”

  “Really. It’s fine, if she likes that one.”

  Ella knew fake when she heard it, and it didn’t sound like Jordan was putting it on. She seemed unperturbed.

  Madison’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’ll sleep here just as well as there,” Jordan said again. With that, she climbed up onto her bunk and started digging through her duffel bag for her toiletries, like nothing had happened.

  Shrugging, Madison ducked back into her room, but not before shooting Ella a meaningful look. But Jordan obviously didn’t care, so why should Madison?

  By bedtime, Jordan still hadn’t said another word. Madison suggested they give their cabin a fun, cheery name before bed, a camp custom. Ella thought it was lame, but after the duffel ba
g incident, she wanted to get back in Madison’s good graces.

  “What about—the Cowgirl Cabin?” said Ella. She imagined herself in a big Western saddle with a rope hanging from the horn, dressed in her best chaps.

  Madison turned to Jordan for her opinion. Jordan just shrugged.

  “Is that a yes?” Ella said impatiently.

  “Sure,” said Jordan.

  “Cowgirl Cabin it is,” said Madison. But sure was a pretty lackluster recommendation, and it annoyed Ella that she’d had to pick the name alone.

  When Madison said good night and closed her door, she promised tomorrow would be a day of meeting horses and learning their way around the ranch. Ella couldn’t wait.

  As the lights clicked off, Ella lay in bed expectantly, waiting for Jordan to say something in the dark. Ella loved to talk after the lights went out at sleepovers, when you could no longer see one another’s faces, but could still make out voices whispering, just out of the adults’ earshot.

  Except that Jordan said nothing. At some point, her breathing evened out, and Ella realized she’d gone to sleep.

  She didn’t quite know what to make of Jordan. Tomorrow would be interesting for more reasons than just horses.

  Chapter Three

  Ella woke to warm sunshine drifting across her eyes. She opened them, rubbing the sleep from their corners, and let out a creaky yawn.

  This was just how she wanted it. Dinner last night hadn’t gone perfectly, but today would. She was Ella Pierson: thick, silky black hair like her mom’s; a small, round face; and big dark eyes that could melt the hearts of most adults. And she was going to ace this horseback riding thing, like she had aced drawing, and math, and bicycling. That’s what Dad had said.

  It was early, so Madison’s door still sat closed. Sitting up in bed, Ella expected to look over and see Jordan passed out on the next bunk.

  But her bed was empty, the blankets strewn around. Strange. Ella shook her head and crawled down her ladder.

  Going to put on her sneakers, she found Jordan’s dirty ones were already missing. Where had she gone this early in the morning?

  As she laced up her shoes, Ella spotted a new addition to the shoe rack: a small pair of worn riding boots, so dirty and well-used she couldn’t tell if they’d originally been brown or black.

  Ella’s boots still sat, brand-new in their box, in her suitcase. She’d kept the box so the boots wouldn’t get her clothes all dirty when she flew home, and had to repack twice to make it fit.

  But Jordan had riding boots already—ones that looked thoroughly broken in. Ella wondered if Jordan had ridden horses before.

  Couldn’t be. This place was for kids who wanted to learn how to ride, not for kids who already did. That had been Ella’s impression after reading the brochure that said, verbatim: Learn to ride at Quartz Creek Ranch.

  When she chose horse camp, Ella had done it knowing she was going to be a natural on horseback. Today was the first day of lessons—her day to shine.

  So why had Jordan come here, if she already knew how to ride?

  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  Jordan returned just as Madison started shuffling around in her room, and she mumbled something to Ella about taking a walk. When Madison stumbled out into the main room, she found both of her charges already awake, washed, dressed, and ready for the day.

  Ella didn’t ask Jordan about where she’d gone that morning, and Jordan didn’t offer an explanation. Like last night, she stayed silent through breakfast, focusing on her eggs, bacon, and toast like it was the highlight of her Saturday morning.

  But it wasn’t even nine in the morning and the boys were already arguing. Drew claimed that Kim had spit on his toothbrush so he wasn’t going to use it, and Ash—horrified and disbelieving that someone would refuse to brush his teeth for the next six weeks—begged Kim to intervene on behalf of everyone who would have to smell Drew’s breath. Kim just glared at both of them and said, “If I was going to mess with someone’s toothbrush, merely spitting on it would be at the bottom of my list of nefarious toothbrush deeds.”

  And then Ash didn’t know what “nefarious” meant, and he accused Kim of intentionally talking in a way that he couldn’t understand to hide his guilt. In the meantime, Fletch looked like his spirit had left his body and gone on a peaceful, astral hike.

  “So what if he spat on your toothbrush?” Ella finally asked, working to stay calm. Their nonstop arguing grated her nerves. “Just wash it off.”

  “It’s not like a hair brush,” Drew said, rising into falsetto on the last words. “It goes on your teeth. In your mouth.”

  “So?” said Ella. Her voice rose. “You know what else goes in your mouth? Forks. And forks get washed and reused every day. That fork in your hand was probably in three different mouths yesterday.”

  Recoiling, Drew said, “Gross!” and dropped his fork. Ella rolled her eyes. Maybe the fact she’d shown up to camp late didn’t matter. These kids were completely lost in their own stupid world.

  Maybe she understood why Jordan stayed silent and out of the way.

  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  The day was already hot, so the air inside the dark horse barn hit Ella like a splash of cool water. She stood among the rows of stalls, listening to horses snorting and eating inside. It renewed Ella’s faith that this camp had been the right choice. Even Drew, who had come to the barn with Fletch, went silent as they stepped inside the cool quiet, and the heavy wood door closed firmly behind them.

  As Ma Etty had outlined for them at breakfast, the trainers had hand-picked a horse for each of their students based on the short questionnaire they’d filled out. Behind one of these stall doors was a horse chosen just for Ella—a horse that she, and only she, would ride for the next six weeks.

  “Ella?” Ella glanced up as Madison said her name. “Come with me. It’s time to meet Figure Eight.”

  Figure Eight? Ella’s heart leapt. What a fantastic name for a horse—for her horse.

  Madison led her to the very end of the hall, where the last stall on the left had a gold plate on it that read FIGURE EIGHT.

  Peering into the stall, Ella was surprised to find, well . . . nothing. No horse—just some scattered hay and manure. She turned around to ask Madison where the horse had gone and saw the trainer holding out a treat through the bars of the stall. There was a sudden, loud thump inside.

  Knobby knees rose up from the floor. The horse had been lying down against the wall, making itself partially invisible. Now it straightened its front legs, stretching as it got up, and lapped the treat out of Madison’s hand before it was even standing up straight.

  “Figure Eight’s kind of a weirdo,” said Madison, as Figure Eight walked into the light. “She likes to rest lying down.”

  Figure Eight was also gorgeous—mostly white, but splattered with big splotches of light doe-brown, like an abstract painting. The brown covered both of her eyes, and the spots made her mane different colors as it ran down her neck. Ella knew right away Figure Eight was the perfect horse. You could see it in her lean, muscular body; in her graceful movements as she got to her feet; and in the shape of her square, strong head.

  “Ella,” said Madison, “please meet Figure Eight. She’s one of Ma Etty’s favorite horses—very beloved by everyone at QCR.”

  “I can see why,” said Ella, as Figure Eight’s soft, curious white nose pressed between the bars.

  “We call her Eight for short,” Madison said, taking a halter off the hook. She showed Ella how to safely open the stall door, step inside, and put on the halter. Once Ella got Figure Eight out of the stall, she could see all of her.

  Yes, Ella would look fantastic riding Figure Eight.

  Madison walked Ella through the process of brushing her coat, then picking the tiny stones and caked-in manure out of Eight’s strong hooves. When they were done, Figure Eight simply gleamed. Ella’s pulse thrummed with anticipation.

  Madison led Ella and E
ight to the arena out behind the barn, where Drew was leading his own horse—a light brown gelding with stocky legs and a blaze down his face—around the perimeter. There, Fletch was waiting, and he gave Ella basic handling instructions.

  “Walk around the arena; get used to each other. Keep Eight walking next to you with her head at your shoulder, listening to your movements. She should respect your personal space and not get distracted eating grass.”

  Madison left to get Jordan, leaving Ella and Drew with Fletch as they led their horses around the arena.

  Drew talked nonstop while they walked, but Ella wasn’t listening. She was thinking about Jordan’s worn, dirty riding boots.

  Drew persisted, and Ella had started to grow annoyed when suddenly the barn door opened and Jordan emerged. She led a big, tan buckskin horse with charcoal-gray feet, mane, and tail. That hadn’t taken long, Ella thought.

  “Where’s Madison?” asked Ella as Jordan took up leading her horse behind Ella and Drew.

  “She sent me into the barn to get Loco Roco,” Jordan said, gesturing to the buckskin horse, “but then had to go get Ma Etty’s help with Ash and Kim. They were having some . . . difficulties.”

  Madison seemed to trust Jordan a lot. Ella’s heart beat more quickly.

  Soon the other kids joined them, and the lesson started. Fletch and Madison walked them through basic handling procedures: turning, stopping, backing up. Eight executed each task with precision and, it seemed to Ella, a bit of boredom. This baby stuff was below Figure Eight.

  Good. They were the perfect match she’d imagined.

  Ella wanted to get on to the riding part, but the handling wasn’t so easy for Kim, Ash, and Drew.

  “You’re messing up my mojo,” Ash told Drew, huffing as his horse once again resisted backing up. “You’re too close.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who’s too close, Dallas,” Drew shot back. Hooting with exhilaration, he said, “I’ll show you how this backing up thing is done!” and flung his lead rope around, trying to get his horse to take a step back.