Free Pony Passion by Harriet Castor Page A

funny!”
    I shivered. Even the idea of falling off gave me the wobbles these days. But I just said,“You only get water-jumps on cross-country courses. Not indoors.”
    “Oh, swizz,” said Kenny cheerfully.
    When the junior show class started, I could tell Kenny was a bit bored. “So… what’s the point of this bit?” she whispered to me. “Are they going to do something soon?”
    I didn’t get a chance to answer. To my amazement, Fliss jumped in. “What do you mean, what’s the point?” she hissed. “Have you seen the totally brilliant way number 51’s done her hair? Look, the ribbon weaves right through her plait, it’s so cool… Hey, Lyndz – can you do that for me when we get home?”
    “Um, I can try,” I said.
    Kenny was happier when the jumping competition started – probably because she was hoping someone would fall off.
    “I’m sticking up for number 24,” declared Frankie. “She looks like me.”
    Number 24 was a girl with dark hair. You couldn’t tell much else as we were sitting so high up.
    But there was no stopping Frankie. When the girl finished her round she jumped to her feet and yelled, “Yeah! We love you, 24!”
    “Oh no,” muttered Fliss into her programme. “We’re not with her, OK?”
    I giggled. I was really chuffed my friends were having fun – I’d been worried that they’d hate it and I’d get the blame.
    When the junior jumping was finished (the dark-haired girl didn’t win a prize, much to Frankie’s disgust) there was a long interval while they set up the big jumps for the grown-ups, so we headed off to find some food.
    “Keep together, girls, won’t you?” said Nikki, who was staying with our coats (Fliss told us afterwards she was on a diet). “And be back here by…”she looked at her smart gold wristwatch, “…say, three o’clock?”
    This gave us more than half an hour to explore the stalls selling food and clothes and magazines that’d been set up outside the main arena. Frankie and Fliss wanted to try oneverything from ranger’s hats to stripy wellies and waxed jackets, but Kenny insisted on food first. I was glad, because my tummy was rumbling. We found a booth selling hot baked potatoes and sat down on some ornamental straw bales to eat them.
    “Well…” said Frankie, with a mouth half full of potato and grated cheese, “what’s it feel like, Lyndz? Knowing that one day we’ll be here watching you?”
    “Hey, yeah!” said Rosie. “That would be amazing! We’d cheer you over every jump!”
    I smiled and shook my head. “Won’t happen,” I said.
    “Seriously, though,” said Rosie, “how’re you feeling, Lyndz?”
    “Is it working, do you think?” asked Fliss. “Are you feeling any better?”
    Kenny nudged me. “You must admit – it’s pretty fab, right? Even I think so and I’m not into all this horsey stuff.”
    I knew my friends were trying hard – I knew itwas for my sake, too. But I just couldn’t bear any more. I said, “No, it’s not fab! I mean, today’s wonderful, and I’m really glad I came, but…” I stared down into my baked potato, feeling all their eyes on me, “…but please stop asking if I feel better. I just don’t. And I won’t.”
    “Come on,” said Rosie. “Don’t give up so easily.”
    “I’ve tried my best!” I shouted, raising my head at last. “I’m never going to ride again and that’s that. Do you understand? Finished!” I stuffed my polystyrene potato carton into the overflowing bin next to me and stood up. “Now can we just forget it and enjoy the rest of the show?”
    The journey back in the car was pretty miz. Nikki knew something was wrong – I guess she just thought we’d had a quarrel. She kept chirping on brightly about what an interesting day it’d been, as if she wanted us to start chatting about it. No one did.
    Because I live outside Cuddington, I was thefirst to be dropped off. The others all got out and gave me a hug, which was dead sweet of them