than ten months to get Greg ready for riding, with eight months of total stall rest and two more of re-training. A lame horse was always on her fatherâs radar, and now there was no money to feed and keep an expensive ex-racehorse. Greg had already been given way more chances than most.
Iâm so sorry!
She threw her arms up around Gregâs neck, face buried in his smooth coat, cursing herself. The thoughts came thick and fast as she breathed in his scent, listening to him chewing his breakfast. If I donât even have a horse to ride, and Iâm not sure I have the guts to ride a real racehorse on a real track, then maybe I shouldnât even bother trying to convince Dad that I need to start my apprenticeship. Maybe I should return to school for Year 11 in eight weekâs time, try to find something else to do â like, lead a more normal life?
But this idea really made Tully uncomfortable. She wouldnât receive her marks for another few weeks, but she already knew sheâd be lucky to scrape by. She couldnât remember enjoying anything sheâd studied all year, with the exception of her agriculture elective and one of the books sheâd studied in English. And even then, the best sheâd been graded in either of those class assignments was a C. Sheâd never been a âsmart kidâ â all sheâd ever wanted to do was ride . . .
â Ahâ! â Tully cried, pushing her face further into Gregâs mane. He brought his nose around to her, nibbling at her hair and down her neck. His whiskers tickled so much that she had to laugh. âThanks for always being here for me, matey,â she whispered, running her hand down his strong, broad face, pressing a kiss onto his black nose.
Greg stared at Tully for a few wondrous moments, his eyes deep and brown and wise, before swishing his tail and getting back to licking every morsel of chaff from his bucket. Tully kept her arms around his neck, leaning back to watch what he did with his legs. The sick, heavy knot in her stomach tightened. He didnât seem to be in pain, but he certainly wasnât putting any weight on that off-hind.
â
The next two days dragged like an anchor at work. Every customer was either sour-faced and difficult, or a kid from school who was annoyingly cheery and excited about their summer âhopeful about their lives. Then Annalise Belgrave and her posse came into the drive through in her brand-new BMW late on Wednesday afternoon, sending Tully spiralling into despair. Annalise, already sixteen, was driving with her older cousin, a dressage girl of the same princess variety. After recognising Tullyâs voice, Annalise took a whole four minutes to order, then sneered and dropped her fifty dollar note, making no moves to get out and retrieve it herself.
Annalise laughed her butt off along with the rest of the girls in the sleek SUV and honked her horn as Tully had to exit the joint, fish the bill out of the hedge, then return with the required McDonaldâs smile and serve each girl her identical âskinny cappuccino with artificial sweetener with half the normal chocolate on top, served warm not hotâ.
Frigginâ hell . Tully smiled through gritted teeth, imagining how amazing it would feel to tip the coffees in Annaliseâs designer-jean-clad lap.
âHave a great day, Tragic!â Annalise sang as she accepted the tray, then peeled out of the drive through.
Tully expected the next humiliation sheâd have to endure would be Brandon driving in and mocking her hat and uniform. She was relieved, however, to see the next car in line was a maroon station wagon â after seeing Brandonâs quad bike, Tully reckoned heâd for sure drive a flash ute. The relief was shortlived: the lady driving greeted her with a string of expletives surrounding âbeing kept waiting in the heat with her air con broken and four kids playing up in the backâ.
Iâm so sorry!
She threw her arms up around Gregâs neck, face buried in his smooth coat, cursing herself. The thoughts came thick and fast as she breathed in his scent, listening to him chewing his breakfast. If I donât even have a horse to ride, and Iâm not sure I have the guts to ride a real racehorse on a real track, then maybe I shouldnât even bother trying to convince Dad that I need to start my apprenticeship. Maybe I should return to school for Year 11 in eight weekâs time, try to find something else to do â like, lead a more normal life?
But this idea really made Tully uncomfortable. She wouldnât receive her marks for another few weeks, but she already knew sheâd be lucky to scrape by. She couldnât remember enjoying anything sheâd studied all year, with the exception of her agriculture elective and one of the books sheâd studied in English. And even then, the best sheâd been graded in either of those class assignments was a C. Sheâd never been a âsmart kidâ â all sheâd ever wanted to do was ride . . .
â Ahâ! â Tully cried, pushing her face further into Gregâs mane. He brought his nose around to her, nibbling at her hair and down her neck. His whiskers tickled so much that she had to laugh. âThanks for always being here for me, matey,â she whispered, running her hand down his strong, broad face, pressing a kiss onto his black nose.
Greg stared at Tully for a few wondrous moments, his eyes deep and brown and wise, before swishing his tail and getting back to licking every morsel of chaff from his bucket. Tully kept her arms around his neck, leaning back to watch what he did with his legs. The sick, heavy knot in her stomach tightened. He didnât seem to be in pain, but he certainly wasnât putting any weight on that off-hind.
â
The next two days dragged like an anchor at work. Every customer was either sour-faced and difficult, or a kid from school who was annoyingly cheery and excited about their summer âhopeful about their lives. Then Annalise Belgrave and her posse came into the drive through in her brand-new BMW late on Wednesday afternoon, sending Tully spiralling into despair. Annalise, already sixteen, was driving with her older cousin, a dressage girl of the same princess variety. After recognising Tullyâs voice, Annalise took a whole four minutes to order, then sneered and dropped her fifty dollar note, making no moves to get out and retrieve it herself.
Annalise laughed her butt off along with the rest of the girls in the sleek SUV and honked her horn as Tully had to exit the joint, fish the bill out of the hedge, then return with the required McDonaldâs smile and serve each girl her identical âskinny cappuccino with artificial sweetener with half the normal chocolate on top, served warm not hotâ.
Frigginâ hell . Tully smiled through gritted teeth, imagining how amazing it would feel to tip the coffees in Annaliseâs designer-jean-clad lap.
âHave a great day, Tragic!â Annalise sang as she accepted the tray, then peeled out of the drive through.
Tully expected the next humiliation sheâd have to endure would be Brandon driving in and mocking her hat and uniform. She was relieved, however, to see the next car in line was a maroon station wagon â after seeing Brandonâs quad bike, Tully reckoned heâd for sure drive a flash ute. The relief was shortlived: the lady driving greeted her with a string of expletives surrounding âbeing kept waiting in the heat with her air con broken and four kids playing up in the backâ.
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