Carole, showed confidence in her horse. She didn’t push. Veronica, on the other hand, was overeager. She was pushing Garnet too hard, throwing her off her stride.
By the time Carole and Starlight got to the rocks,they were a length ahead. By the time they got to the mountain laurel, they were ahead by a length and a half.
Carole handed off the stick perfectly, so by the time Lisa got to the Indian paintbrush she was two lengths ahead.
“Now, listen,” Stevie said to Jackie and Amie. “We have perfect position. All you have to do is not ride too hard. Did you see Veronica?” The girls nodded. “Don’t push your horse. Help him concentrate, but don’t force him, because he wants to win even more than you do.”
Lisa handed off to Amie, who took off, her eyes shining.
“Amie!” Stevie called. “Not so fast.”
Amie’s excitement had passed itself to her horse, and the two of them were barreling toward the rocks.
“Heels down,” Stevie yelled. But it was too late. One of Amie’s feet had slipped through the stirrup.
“Stop your horse,” Max called. “Rider back.”
Amie brought her horse to a jolting stop, regained her stirrup, and headed back. By the time she got back to Max, Liam, who was on the other team, was rounding the rocks. Amie had lost the lead and then some.
Amie’s face was streaked with tears. “I wrecked it,” she said. “I blew the race.”
Stevie glanced over at the other team. Betsy was hanging on to Phil’s shoulder, anxiously biting her nails as she watched Liam head back. “Come on, Liam,” Betsy shouted.
Stevie looked back at Amie. Stevie really wanted to win this relay, but the words in Lisa’s journal came flooding back to her:
It’s fine to be competitive … but last night Stevie got carried away
.…
“Nothing’s wrecked,” Stevie said firmly to Amie. “Trust your horse.”
Amie rode out again, her back straight, head tall.
Liam came cantering in and passed off to Peter. By this time the other team was four horse lengths ahead. There was no way Stevie’s team could catch up, short of a miracle. Polly Giacomin rode better than Stevie had expected and picked up half a length, but by the time Stevie set off on the final lap, she was three and a half lengths behind Phil. It doesn’t matter who wins, she told herself. The important thing is to be a good sport and have a good time.
Looking ahead, she saw that Teddy wasn’t cantering well. He was digging his feet too deep and springing too high. Teddy was losing ground. This was the opportunity Stevie’s team needed, and Stevie was determined not to let it go by.
She leaned over Topside’s neck and said, “Go.”
Topside flew over the grass toward the Indian paintbrush. Stevie steered Topside wide, not wanting to get in Teddy’s way.
Teddy was almost prancing—not something a horse should do in a race. Phil was leaning low over his neck, talking to him. Phil must have said something right, because as Stevie drew even, Teddy began to canter again with Phil crouched low in the saddle.
Stevie leaned closer to Topside’s neck, and the horse’s stride lengthened. His gait was so smooth that Stevie could scarcely feel the hoofbeats. She was part of his motion. Tears were streaming out of the corners of her eyes and her throat was dry from the wind.
When she and Phil approached the finish line, they were neck and neck. At the last second Topside made a huge effort and managed to cross the line a whisker ahead. “Yes!” shrieked Stevie. She put her arms up, making victory signs with both hands. Her teammates gathered around her, yelling, “We won! We won!”
When Stevie turned around, she saw Phil sitting on Teddy, watching her. Her face colored. I did it again, she realized. All I thought about was winning—and beating Phil. Lisa’s right. I have absolutely no self-control.
But Phil rode over to her and said, “Nice race.”
“You mean it?” she said, filled with relief.
“Sure.” Phil
By the time Carole and Starlight got to the rocks,they were a length ahead. By the time they got to the mountain laurel, they were ahead by a length and a half.
Carole handed off the stick perfectly, so by the time Lisa got to the Indian paintbrush she was two lengths ahead.
“Now, listen,” Stevie said to Jackie and Amie. “We have perfect position. All you have to do is not ride too hard. Did you see Veronica?” The girls nodded. “Don’t push your horse. Help him concentrate, but don’t force him, because he wants to win even more than you do.”
Lisa handed off to Amie, who took off, her eyes shining.
“Amie!” Stevie called. “Not so fast.”
Amie’s excitement had passed itself to her horse, and the two of them were barreling toward the rocks.
“Heels down,” Stevie yelled. But it was too late. One of Amie’s feet had slipped through the stirrup.
“Stop your horse,” Max called. “Rider back.”
Amie brought her horse to a jolting stop, regained her stirrup, and headed back. By the time she got back to Max, Liam, who was on the other team, was rounding the rocks. Amie had lost the lead and then some.
Amie’s face was streaked with tears. “I wrecked it,” she said. “I blew the race.”
Stevie glanced over at the other team. Betsy was hanging on to Phil’s shoulder, anxiously biting her nails as she watched Liam head back. “Come on, Liam,” Betsy shouted.
Stevie looked back at Amie. Stevie really wanted to win this relay, but the words in Lisa’s journal came flooding back to her:
It’s fine to be competitive … but last night Stevie got carried away
.…
“Nothing’s wrecked,” Stevie said firmly to Amie. “Trust your horse.”
Amie rode out again, her back straight, head tall.
Liam came cantering in and passed off to Peter. By this time the other team was four horse lengths ahead. There was no way Stevie’s team could catch up, short of a miracle. Polly Giacomin rode better than Stevie had expected and picked up half a length, but by the time Stevie set off on the final lap, she was three and a half lengths behind Phil. It doesn’t matter who wins, she told herself. The important thing is to be a good sport and have a good time.
Looking ahead, she saw that Teddy wasn’t cantering well. He was digging his feet too deep and springing too high. Teddy was losing ground. This was the opportunity Stevie’s team needed, and Stevie was determined not to let it go by.
She leaned over Topside’s neck and said, “Go.”
Topside flew over the grass toward the Indian paintbrush. Stevie steered Topside wide, not wanting to get in Teddy’s way.
Teddy was almost prancing—not something a horse should do in a race. Phil was leaning low over his neck, talking to him. Phil must have said something right, because as Stevie drew even, Teddy began to canter again with Phil crouched low in the saddle.
Stevie leaned closer to Topside’s neck, and the horse’s stride lengthened. His gait was so smooth that Stevie could scarcely feel the hoofbeats. She was part of his motion. Tears were streaming out of the corners of her eyes and her throat was dry from the wind.
When she and Phil approached the finish line, they were neck and neck. At the last second Topside made a huge effort and managed to cross the line a whisker ahead. “Yes!” shrieked Stevie. She put her arms up, making victory signs with both hands. Her teammates gathered around her, yelling, “We won! We won!”
When Stevie turned around, she saw Phil sitting on Teddy, watching her. Her face colored. I did it again, she realized. All I thought about was winning—and beating Phil. Lisa’s right. I have absolutely no self-control.
But Phil rode over to her and said, “Nice race.”
“You mean it?” she said, filled with relief.
“Sure.” Phil
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