Madison v.s The Horse Thief

Chapter Three: The Clubhouse

My feet move in a slow jog to catch up to Alex. I had thanked Antonio in a rush just to escape the talk of Margo-I can't stand the rush of grief whenever someone mentions her. I can't think about her. I've nearly lost Alex through the busy SEC stable. I burst out of the doors and look around. Green grass, rugged horses, clouds floating in the sky. Pure perfection. But no Alex.

"Finally. You've come out."

I turn around and leaning against the polished stable with his hands jammed in his hoodie's pockets, is Antonio Bruno's moody son. He kicks off from the wall and breezes past me, like my existence is unknown to him. I find myself once again jogging to catch up. The air starts to fill with tension as we march up another gravel path. 

"Must be great, you know, to live out here. Basically, get to ride every day!" I point out.

Alex stays silent at my attempt to make a conversation. Instead of responding like a normal human being he furrows his features and pulls the hood of his hoodie off his head. Alex is taller than me-which is strange since I'm almost taller than everyone-and well built. He looks like a younger version of his dad with black hair, pale skin, and ice-blue eyes. He's cute but too cold and shut off for me to ever like him.

"Well, what school do you go to?"

Do I look desperate? I definitely do.

"Does it look like I go to school?" Alex snaps. "I'm homeschooled like every other kid here. A request from Dad."

I want to scream, Yay! The freak talks, but that would be a hate crime.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know that," I shout, not being able to hold my tongue.

"Why do you care? In a couple of hours, Justin will be driving you back home as he does to everyone that doesn't make the cut."

"What does that mean?" I ask, half out of annoyance and half out of nerves.

"Madison, I hope you didn't bet money on you making the team. My dad only likes the best and you probably aren't that," Alex says cheerfully, smiling directly at me.

What the heck is this dude's problem?

"Oh, and because you're the son of Antonio Bruno I guess you telepathically know who is a good rider or not," I spit.

Alex rolls his eyes and clenches his jaw. Antonio's right: Alex is bitter.

We continue to walk in silence up a steep hill towards a large house. Bikes are piled in a stack next to the front door which is a bright red. Roses line the path up to the house but because I'm annoyed at Alex I can't even acknowledge how good they look.

"Here it is," Alex groans, pointing at the house.

"Thanks." I try to sound happy so maybe Alex can like me.

"Don't talk to me again, ok?" Alex huffs.

I stop in my tracks. "Oh, did I displease the prince of riding?" I joke, rubbing my fingers against a delicate rose petal.

Alex glares at me. "Just because my dad rode in the Olympics doesn't mean I get everything I want out of riding."

I roll my eyes. I'm not really mad at the kid. If everyone thought I'm good at riding just because of my parents I would be pretty annoyed. It's no excuse for being rude though.

"I was just trying to be nice to you ok. I'm nervous about my tryout, I really need this spot," I stress.

Alex starts clapping. "Good for you I guess. Go write me a sob story, Madison."