Silverstone: Perfection is Not Enough

Chapter 28

The outdoor arena is surrounded by people. 

There's Bertie, Tabitha, Rose, Liam, Nat, and all my friends from Valegro. Then there's those people who share a class with me, be it show jumping or chemistry. Further on, I can see Leah with some of the stable hands, grinning at me from where they lean against the fence. 

And finally, there's Kennedy, with a couple of her minions. She laughs at something, then turns to face the entrance to the arena. 

When she sees me, the smile momentarily drops of her face, wiping it clean of any emotion besides shock. Then, a smirk fixes itself onto her mouth. 

I don't let her get to me. I'm so done with Kennedy. After this, she's going down. 

Under me, Arrow feels steady and warm. I can feel all the muscles in his back moving as he walks, his front legs stretching out in a perfect extended walk. I know this dressage test literally like the back of my hand; I've studied it every single night for about two months. 

Arrow's saddle may be in tatters back in the barn. But Kennedy never watched the tests that got me into Silverstone. Particularly the freestyle one. 

I'm doing it bareback. 

At least this time I have reins, because, let's face it, Arrow is nowhere near as calm as Blue, and frankly, I think doing this without reins would probably freak him out so much he would bolt to Rose's ranch. Already, I can feel some tension in his back, but I know we just need to keep going. 

The test is like a routine at this point. Walk switches to trot, trot to canter, flying change over the diagonal, back to a collected walk. Half-pass from K to M, extended canter when we hit the track. It's fluid; each movement becoming the next.

Of course, it's not perfect. Arrow stumbles in the corner, and I have to pick up canter in the next; Kennedy snickers as he falls in on a twenty metre circle, but I pick him back up and carry on. 

Kennedy and her friends may be laughing, but, out of the corner of my eye, I can't see anyone else reacting in such manner. They're all watching, and most are smiling. 

Then it hits me; this is what I've been building up to. Everything in the last few months, all the stress, tears, hurt, was all for this. And I'm doing it. I'm doing it. 

As we turn into the middle, Arrow picks up an amazing canter, hitting the stride perfectly, sending dust up behind him. In that moment, all I can think about is us. The sudden silence ringing in my ears, the sound of Arrow's hooves thumping in time off the sandy floor, the way my legs wrap exactly around his stomach. It's just us. 

And it's perfect. 

Then, we halt, directly over X. A moment of silence rings out, and a sudden panic hits me. Did we do okay? Did we completely mess up?

Applause starts at Bertie. Then it catches on, like wildfire, and pretty soon, everyone is clapping, cheering, laughing. 

A sudden relief hits, like cold water in the heat of the pressure. We did it. Laughter blooms in my stomach, and I hug Arrow, reaching down to wrap my arms around his neck. 

The jumping goes just as well. Arrow's never shied away from a jump, and after the huge gate he cleared on the hack. He leaps round the course, somewhat wildly in places, but clears pretty much every jump, excluding one corner oxer. He just takes the back pole off, but that's my fault; we didn't take off early enough. 

I've been so preoccupied with the tests, I haven't noticed how much better Arrow has become as a horse. Since September, he's become far more responsive to me, and [usually] does as I ask. Physically, too. When you stop and look at him, you can see the light muscle rippling beneath his dark coat. When I appear at his stable door, rather than snorting suspiciously, he comes forwards to nuzzle my palm.