The Silent Rider

Chapter 3

Honestly, I mulled over skipping school. Being stuck at home with my dad didn't seem much better, considering he's more of a "rodeo coach" than someone with a proper job. At my school's rodeo club (or technically, 4-H), it's all about livestock, rodeo, and things related to that. My thing is show jumping, which isn't part of the 4-H deal. So, I foot the bill for everything, with a bit of help from my mom, but mainly through a job at the rodeo grounds. They called saying I didn't have to work today, but I suspect there's a stack of vet bills waiting for me.

Getting ready, I heard my mom say someone was upstairs. Next thing I know, Lizz is at my door. She's got this cool '8 Seconds is How I Make My Living' shirt, high-rise jeans, and her beige-blonde hair down to her shoulders. Lizz has been my partner-in-crime since forever. She used to be into dressage until my horse spooked her into joining the rodeo world.

Lizz hands me this 'I Am a Survivor' shirt, but I'm in no mood for pep talks. I'm just trying to get my boots on when I let out a yelp trying to shove my right foot into one. Lizz freaks out, asking if I'm okay. I manage a nod, then struggle over to the stairs where she's left my backpack. She's all like, "C'mon, we're gonna be late." So, she bolts out the door with both our bags.

I'm not quick on crutches, but I finally make my way downstairs where Lizz is waiting. She gives me this sneaky grin, sits down, and slides her way down the steps. I figure I'll give it a shot and follow her lead, but man, it's not fun on the rear end.

We make it to the bottom, and Lizz hands over my crutches and my backpack. Off we go to her truck, an old red pick-up. I try to get in but can't find a comfy spot, and she's cracking up at my struggle.

Lizz is blabbing about some new kid in the rodeo. Apparently, he's got this vibe that reminds her of my brother. My brother was a big deal in rodeo and then took off to do the circuit in Canada. Sometimes, I wish I'd gone with him.

Then she mentions Tristian, another rodeo dude, had a bit of a tumble. He's battered but alive. I can't help but laugh. Tristian's antics are always a riot.

We drive in silence, and when we hit the school lot, Lizz hops out, and with a bit of her help, I'm out too. And that's how I roll into school – crutches in hand and now an only child, sort of.