Kingston University for the Gifted

Chapter 3: Explosions

Spring was an amazing ride, don't get me wrong, but what I most want right now is to ride my horses. I can't help but wonder about them. Mares, stallions, or geldings? What are their personalities like? Will they be able to be turned out together, or-

"Alright, I have your assignments right here," Kiera calls over us. She holds up a stack of papers. The talking subsides and the office becomes deadly quiet. "I have your assignments, and... I'm not going to let you ride them yet." She grins.

"Why not?" Justin, the boy from registration, asks angrily. "I don't want to wait until tomorrow to ride my horses!"

"You don't have to," she says, "but what you do have to do is go eat lunch." Kiera smiles and laughs. "I'll let you agonize about my choices over a sandwich, and hopefully you'll rush back as soon as possible, but not too soon, to ride your horses this afternoon. Go eat."

Opal, Matt, and I leave the office and head towards the cafeteria. "Oh, she's cruel," Opal sighs. "Waiting another hour seems like torture."

Matt shoves his hands in his pockets. "She could've at least given us the info sheets on our horses and let us read a bit about them."

"She's probably got something up her sleeve," I say dejectedly. "Maybe she'll hide them." We give a half-laugh and trudge on.

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"I hid them!" Kiera announces. I look at Opal and Matt in disbelief.

Kiera hands out folded pieces of paper with writing on the inside to each person. "These are directions to the directions to the directions to your horses. They're together, somewhere on the grounds. This way, you'll be able to get to know campus a bit better," she says, grinning. "And, I'll have a blast watching you scramble around."

We all move to rush out the door, but she blocks our way. She's enjoying this too much.

"Uh, uh, uh, not yet," she laughs. "I have to say 'go.' Also, I have to tell you this: the first person to find their horses gets extra time to tack up. Plan on being tacked and warmed up on your primary mount in an hour if you lose."

We stand stock still and wait. An hour? To find both horses, bring them back, and tack and warm one up? That's almost impossible. Kiera grins. "Now go."

I have no shame; I ran.

My directions read something like this:

Somewhere in the class where you learn about explosions I hid the next note. Good luck. Oh, yeah, and try not to disturb the class too much.

She's making us go into classrooms?! Oh, wonderful. And explosions could mean history or chemistry. I'm going to go with chemistry, though, because the building is closer, I think.

I stop at a campus map. There are four chemistry laboratories on the island, so I have to assume she actually meant where I learn about explosions. I think I'm in room 405... but I'm not completely sure... it's worth a shot.

It takes five minutes to just to find classroom 405. I'm sure I look ridiculous, bursting in the door panting and gasping for breath, but at the moment, I don't care.

"I assume you have a reason for coming in in such a fashion, Mr..." the teacher asks.

"Trevail, ma'am, Kyle Trevail," I answer. "And Coach Benjamin hid our horses, ma'am." By this time, I can sort of breathe again, so I sound normal enough.

A few people snigger. The teacher hides a smile. "Yes, I was informed of that. I suppose you're here to find the instructions, not the actual horses. If it's the latter, I'm afraid you're off quite a bit," she says, raising her eyebrows. I was right! It must be here!

"The former," I say, cheeks burning. She gestures to the room, indicating I can search. I breath a sigh of relief. I don't have to check all the chemistry classrooms after all.

After a thorough search, I find the folded paper in a cabinet with the explosive chemicals. I should have known. I did, however, see the teacher's name while searching her desk.

"Thank you, Dr. Rodgers!" I say, halfway out the door. The students in the class are in stitches by this time, probably glad they never took up horseback riding.

This paper tells me, in obviously sarcastic cursive, to look in the stacks. It's supposed to be in a book; "you should know which one," the note taunts.

The library is as big as the stables, at least, and full of more books than I've ever seen. I suppose Kiera was referring to a book on horses, so I head straight to non-fiction and search the shelves for the horse section.

I run my finger down the spines. The Anatomy of the Horse, Raising a Healthy Racehorse, Steeplechasing as a Career... And here it is, the book she must have been talking about, The History of Olympic Eventing. On page 453, which talks about the Kingston Initiative, a familiar folded piece of paper is wedged.

Nice move, Kiera, I think. Since I can't run in a library (I do have manners, you know), I speed walk out of the building, reading the paper on the way.

Good job, Kyle. Your secondary mount is a mare named Proper Introductions (Prim), and your primary mount is a stallion named Hermano del Sol Rojo (Sol). They're both with a groom named Finn in your dorm. You might want to retrieve them before your resident assistant forever bans me from his sight. He will, if the horses mess up the common room. Read up on the horses' history tonight. The info is in your dorm room.

Okay... not going to ask how she got into my dorm room.

When I get to the dorm, I expect the horses to be outside the building grazing. They're not. Kiera wasn't kidding; she actually hid them inside the common room.

"Oh, thank God," Brandon sighs when I run in. "Please get these horses out of the building. Do you know how much vacuuming I'm going to have to do to get rid of these hoof prints?"

I smile apologetically and walk over to the groom. "Hey, Finn?" I say, holding out my hand to shake. He nods. "I'm Kyle."

"I know," Finn laughs. "I figured that when you walked over to the horses. 0Do you want help leading them back to the stables?"

"Yes, please," I say, taking Sol's lead.

For the first time, I get a good look at 'my' horse. He's beautiful. Sol is a bright gold-tinted bay Hanoverian stallion with a white muzzle and four white socks. He stands at about 16 hands tall and is well muscled and conformationally almost perfect. His intelligent, warm brown eyes blink calmly back at me. He seems almost peaceful.

Prim, on the other hand, is impatiently stomping the ground. She's a delicate strawberry roan Selle Francais about 15 hands 2" tall. She's built beautifully, with a fine head and a proportionate body. Her dark eyes seem to challenge me. She seems to be saying, "So you think you can ride me? Think again!" She'll be a challenge.

It takes me five minutes to tack up.

When I walk into the arena with Sol, Kiera is alone.