Free Initiation by Jessica Burkhart Page B

notch lower than usual. “I work hard for everything. I. Get. Which is why I’m here— to work. So unless you actually have something useful to say . . . ?”
    Riley looked as me as though I’d pointed out an enormous zit in the middle of her forehead. Her mouth was open, but nothing came out.
    â€œDidn’t think so,” I said. “But thanks for stopping by!”
    I turned around, scooped up the tack, and walked around to Whisper’s side.
    I heard Riley’s boots clomp away. I smiled to myself.
    Whisper’s saddle pad fit smoothly on her back. I hoisted the saddle in the air, standing on my tiptoes. She was very tall at sixteen hands. She stood, patient, while I tightened the girth.
    â€œGood girl,” I said. “You know, you didn’t meet her, but the last horse I rode filled her stomach with air sometimes. The saddle would be loose when I tried to mount her and then I’d slip sideways when she let the air out.”
    I peeked to make sure Riley was really gone . . . all clear. Phew! There were enough Rileys on the show circuit.
    I shifted my full attention back to Whisper. I unhooked her crossties and slipped the reins over her head. Holding the crownpiece in my hand, I placed her snaffle bit in my hand. Whisper took it without hesitation and I put the crownpiece behind her ears and then buckled the bridle.
    With a light hold on the reins, I put on my helmet.
    â€œTime to go find Lexa,” I told Whisper.

DON’T SCARE LT
    WHISPER FOLLOWED ME DOWN THE AISLE , shoes clicking against the concrete. I didn’t want to make Lexa wait long, but I couldn’t help but slow a little to take in the beauty of the stable. The black iron bars gave the horses a wide view of the stable if their heads weren’t poked out of the stall doors. Each stall was a roomy box stall with clean, deep sawdust. The wide, well-swept aisle had crossties every few stalls if a rider didn’t want to tie his or her horse to iron bars.
    Two stable grooms worked their way down the aisle, cleaning out stalls, refilling water buckets, and feeding horses.
    I stepped out of the stable with Whisper on my heels. The sun had finally burned off the early morning fog andI saw Lexa standing next to Honor. The horse reminded me of Ana’s mare, Breeze, from a distance. A boy I’d never met stood next to Lexa. Whatever he’d just said made her laugh—her infectious laugh.
    â€œHey, Lauren,” Lexa said when I reached them. “This,” she said, slinging her arm over the taller boy’s shoulder, “is Cole Harris. Cole is one of my best friends and he’s a rider!”
    â€œDon’t listen to her,” Cole told me, extending his hand to shake mine. He leaned in and whispered: “I’m really not a rider. I just love the clothes so much, I wear them here a lot and just hang out.”
    For a split second, I wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not, but Cole smiled at me and Lexa shoved him saying, “Cole. We like LT. Don’t scare her away, please?”
    â€œSorry, LT. It’s nice to meet you.”
    â€œYou, too,” I said. “So, do you pleasure ride or are you on a riding team?”
    â€œI made the intermediate team at the end of last year,” Cole said. “I haven’t been riding as long as most of the people here, but I’m trying to catch up.”
    â€œHe’s being modest,” Lexa said. “He’s a great rider. No catching up needed.”
    â€œI’m testing for a team,” I said. “It feels a little intimidating. I’d love to see you ride sometime!”
    Cole straightened his yellow polo shirt. “For sure. And don’t stress the test. Mr. Conner’s a good instructor. Lexa told me you guys are going on a trail ride, so she’ll tell you everything you need to know. She’s the best bestie a best bestie can have.” His smile reached all the way up to his