For Sale or Swap - Alyssa Brugman [1]
Shelby thought that she'd won 'Most Improved' as some sort of consolation prize. The committee felt sorry for her because she always came on her own. Everybody else's parents came along to Pony Club with fold-out tables and chairs, thermos flasks, plastic containers of coleslaw and plates of homemade slice. Shelby usually had to make do with a packet of home brand chips from the Pony Club tuckshop.
The Christmas Party slash Awards Night was worst of all. Even parents who didn't make it to the normal Club days came along. A few parents brought video cameras, as though this night might be worthy of revisiting some time in the future. Not Shelby's parents, though. They'd sent her along by herself with a plastic-wrapped Madeira cake, bought from the supermarket.
'Are your mum and dad here?' Hayley's mum asked her, looking around at the crowd.
When Shelby shook her head, Mrs Crook raised an eyebrow towards Mrs Hockings.
Shelby spent most of her time with Erin's family, but after Erin had won 'Rider of the Year' people crowded around to congratulate her. Shelby wandered away from the others, down to the empty yards, munching away on her sausage sandwich. Behind her she could hear the happy hum of conversation and laughter, and the hiss of burning fat on the barbecue. A large blob of sauce slipped from the edge of her soggy serviette and onto her shirt. Shelby rubbed it into the fabric with her thumb.
Erin's copy saddle had elevated her from beginners to advanced as well. That had been a greater humiliation to Shelby than winning 'Most Improved', because Shelby had been riding for three years, and yet there she was on the flat grassy area behind the clubhouse, going over boring cavalletti poles on the ground with a bunch of little kids, some of whom were still being led by their mothers. Meanwhile, Erin, who'd only been riding for one year, was in the real arena with the guest instructor.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't even close to fair.
To make matters worse, Mrs Hockings had pulled Shelby aside after the ceremony and told her that she was only allowed to take her trophy home after she'd paid her membership fees, which were overdue. Then she'd waited with her hands on her hips for Shelby to answer.
'I forgot,' Shelby had stammered. This was partially true. She'd forgotten on purpose because she didn't want to ask her mother and see that strained, despairing look that she always got when Shelby asked for money.
At the end of the night Shelby left her little silver you-used-to-suck trophy next to a plate of Mrs Hockings's dried-out lamingtons. Let them keep it.
Erin's parents dropped Shelby home. Erin sat next to her in the back of their four-wheel drive clutching her giant gold trophy and grinning.
When she climbed out Shelby thanked Erin's parents for the lift and mumbled congratulations to Erin, even managing to plaster a passable smile on her face. 'How was it?' Shelby's mother asked as she walked into the house. Her mother was standing against the kitchen sink washing dishes. Her shoulder-length hair was frizzy and the fluorescent kitchen light shining through it made it look like a halo. Her face was shiny. She brought an arm up to wipe it and then plunged her gloved hands back into the scalding water.
'OK,' Shelby replied, shuffling up the hallway into her room. There was no point telling her mother about the dumb trophy. It was embarrassing. Besides, then she would have to explain about the membership fees.
She pulled on a pair of tracksuit pants and an old tee-shirt. 'I'm going out,' she said, scuffing past the kitchen.
Her mother called out to her before she got to the front door. 'Have you thought about what you might like for Christmas?'
Shelby tilted her head to the side. 'Not really.'
Every Christmas and birthday was the same. It was a time for Shelby to get something she really needed for riding.