For Sale or Swap - Alyssa Brugman [21]
She would have to give up school and travel around in a big convoy of trucks from city to city doing demonstrations. The other special young riders would become her best friends, and they would all train together, laughing, joking and cheering each other on. One of the young riders would be a boy who would secretly fall in love with her from the moment they met.
Companies would sponsor her, and she would have so many riding outfits that she could give most of them away to young girls who couldn't afford their own. She could start 'The Shelby Shaw Foundation' and one day win a humanitarian award for it.
Then when she was seventeen, a rich old man would be watching her training one day and he would tell her that he had a beautiful warmblood stallion worth a million dollars, and he wanted Shelby to ride him in the Olympics. 'He deserves the best,' the old man would say. Shelby would talk it over with her friends, and three of them would have received similar offers, including the boy, except their horses wouldn't be quite as good.
They would make a pact to only go in the team events so that they wouldn't have to compete against each other, because their friendship was more important than anything in the world.
The team would win gold, of course, and afterwards they would be asked to do ads for apple sauce and laundry detergents.
By the time she reached the Pony Club grounds Brat was quite warm, and not limping in the slightest. Her arrival attracted a bit of attention. Hayley and Erin were sitting on the picnic seats with some of the other girls, and they all turned as she and Brat walked up the road.
A few of the adults congregated at the door of the clubhouse to watch her ride past. One of them was Calvin Protheroe himself, nursing a cup of coffee. He was wearing real leather top-boots like a professional. Shelby touched her hat as she rode past the clubhouse and Mr Protheroe smiled.
Shelby felt a little murmur of disquiet as they lined up for parade. With all the excitement this morning, she had forgotten to check that Brat was still properly brown. What if she had rubbed during the night and some of her boot polish had come off? From Brat's back, Shelby couldn't tell what state the pony's face was in.
Shelby watched Mrs Crook escort Mr Protheroe down to the arena. Shelby groaned. Mrs Crook was such a stickler for cleanliness.
When it was Shelby's turn for inspection, she felt her pulse rise. Mrs Crook frowned as she looked over Shelby and her gear.
'What happened to your face?' she asked.
Shelby put her hand to her cheek and remembered. 'Oh. Just a bit of wire.'
Mrs Crook chastised her. 'Your boots are a mess. Don't you ever polish them?'
Shelby peered down. 'Yes, it's just that they're old.'
'Old, my eye,' said Mrs Crook. 'You should invest in a bit of boot polish, young lady. It would make a world of difference.'
Shelby nodded. Calvin Protheroe didn't say anything at all. He just scanned Brat for a moment and then smiled again.
After the parade, the members were divided into two groups. Group B, mostly younger children on led ponies, moved around to the flat grassy area behind the clubhouse. They were to go over poles under the supervision of Mrs Hockings, who was wearing, as she always did, a pair of lemon-coloured jodhpurs almost up to her underarms, with her jumper tucked in. Shelby didn't know why she wore them, since she never actually rode.
Group A, to which Shelby found herself elevated, moved in single file into the arena.
Just as she reached the gate Mrs Hockings stepped forward, blocking her path.
'Did you remember to bring your membership fees today?' she asked.
'Oh.' She hadn't even thought about it. 'No, I forgot.'
'Well, I'm sorry, Shelby, but you'll have to sit this one out.'
Shelby looked around desperately at the other parents. This couldn't