Taking The Reins Page 3

  I turned and there was Celia, walking toward me and the throng of other students. “Girls! Leave Brooklyn alone—she just got here. You’ll all get to meet her; you have all year!”

  She gave me a broad smile and hooked her arm through mine. “Kaylee’s finishing getting dressed, but I wanted to make sure you were settled in and found your way to the dining room.”

  I held up the paper I’d gotten from the check in desk. “I have my map.”

  Celia started walking down the hall, gently tugging me along next to her as other girls fell in line around us. “You don’t need a map; you have us. So, tell us more about you.”

  Orientation

  As we ate dessert, a very young-looking teacher at the front of the room (the entire faculty sat together at two long tables) got up and walked over to a raised podium. He looked very focused on the floor in front of him and I wondered if he was nervous. A buzz of whispers and hushed conversations erupted through the dining hall.

  I turned to Celia. “What’s going on?”

  She looked up to the front of the room. “Evening announcements. Newbie teacher.” She squinted. “Newbie cute teacher.” She nudged Kaylee on her other side, who also looked up from her fruit salad.

  “Nice,” she said. “I wonder what he’s teaching.”

  “I bet he could teach me a few things,” Chelly said from across the table.

  We all laughed and watched as the new teacher adjusted the microphone and started talking. No sound came out and someone hollered at him to turn it on. He stared blankly out at the crowd and then clued in, switching the mic on. He cleared his throat and started again. It was kind of adorable.

  “Good evening. My name is Jeffrey Stratton…er…Mr. Stratton. As the newest addition to the faculty, I have been given the honor of welcoming you all here to The Rosewood Academy for Academic Excellence. Most of you are returning students and I welcome you all back, but I’d also like to extend a special welcome to our first year students. Welcome!”

  “How many times can one person say, ‘welcome’?” Kaylee mumbled.

  “We could make it a drinking game,” Celia said.

  Kaylee snickered and I looked around, wondering if these girls really did drink. Sure, I’d had some pints back in London, but I was hoping to get into a good journalism program at Syracuse or Northwestern, and that meant good grades. I was taking the Academic Excellence part of The Rosewood Academy for Academic Excellence very seriously. Which meant although I wanted to have a good time, I was going to have to limit the partying.

  “I wonder if he’s married,” Chelly mused, looking up at the podium with dreamy eyes.

  “He’s a teacher,” Celia reminded her.

  Chelly gave Celia a look. “He looks like a student teacher, so what, like, twenty max. That’s only three years. Nothing. My father is twelve years older than my mother.” She turned back to look at the teacher in question again. “And anyway, just look at him.”

  We all did. And I had to admit, even if just to myself, that he was hot. Even from our table, I could tell by the angles of his masculine face, and his dark-rimmed glasses that gave him something of a geeky chic look. He had broad shoulders under his blazer and slim hips in his chinos. And his voice, low and soothing despite his nervousness (which just made him cuter), made me hope I would be in one of his classes; I could listen to that voice all day.

  “…in the library at eight. Students new to Rosewood are asked to meet here at the podium at the conclusion of these announcements for orientation and grounds tour.”

  Oops! I realized I’d zoned out and hadn’t really been listening to what he’d said, but at least I’d caught that last part. Chelly nodded at me. “That’s us.”

  Cute teacher wrapped up his speech: “So that’s it for me, everyone. I hope to see you out in the science labs when classes start tomorrow. Until then, thanks for your attention and again, welcome!”

  We all laughed, but applauded as was expected. The buzz around the room told us we weren’t the only group of girls who were hoping to have him as a science teacher.

  I pushed the rest of my dessert away and looked at Chelly. “Shall we?”

  She nodded as she shoved a cookie in her mouth. “Mmm. Just give me a sec, I’m sublimating my need to kiss that hot teacher with food.”

  “Didn’t you get any over the summer?” Kaylee asked.

  Chelly shrugged. “A bit here and there. But you know how it is. I can’t wait for the first dance next week.”

  “Aren’t you with Evan Jenkins?” I asked, remembering how I’d seen them together earlier.

  She looked at me blankly. “Jenks?”

  “You seemed to be close this afternoon.”

  “He’s cute,” Celia said.

  “He’s totally cute,” Chelly said but frowned at me. “Did he seem like he was into me?”

  She seemed really unsure, which was a bit odd, since he’d totally looked like he was into her. “Yeah,” I said. “He did. The way he was smiling at you and nudged you before he came to help me with my stuff.”

  Chelly gave a half-smile. “Huh. I guess I didn’t notice.”

  “It was pretty busy with everyone moving in; you had other things on your mind,” Celia said.

  “True enough,” Chelly said. “But now I’m looking forward to the dance even more.”

  “So you’re going to go for him?” I asked. “He seems nice; I think he’d make a good boyfriend.”

  The other girls laughed. I looked around at them, hoping someone would let me in on the joke. “What?” I asked when no one did.

  Chelly leaned in close. “The last thing I’m looking for is a steady boyfriend.” The way she said steady boyfriend was the same way a chef would say, “spoiled meat.”

  “That dance is going to be like a Westwood buffet,” Chelly continued. “And Seychelles is hungry.”

  I laughed with the rest of the girls, but secretly hoped Will wasn’t going to end up as a dish on her menu.

  ~♥~

  Since Chelly was the orientation coordinator, she had to stay with the groups of freshmen while I got paired up with a sophomore named Andrea, who took me around campus and showed me where all my classes would be. After the busy day and the loud dining hall, it was nice to have a quiet one-on-one tour of the campus.

  “So I guess that’s it,” she said when we had circled around to the front lobby of the main building.

  “What about the stables?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “They’re not on the tour. They’re out back beside the sports complex; it’s kind of obvious where they are.”

  “Can we go see them?”

  She slipped her cell out of her pocket and pressed a button before frowning at me. “Uh, I’m meeting a friend in ten minutes, but if you are okay you can go on your own, if you want. After this, it’s free time.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks so much for the tour.”

  Andrea smiled. “You’re welcome. Well, see you around!” And then she was gone.

  I looked down at my map and found the best door to take to get out to the stables. I ducked out, suddenly glad I’d worn a sweatshirt since it had gotten brisk out as the sun had started to set. Rushing over to the stables, I hoped they weren't locked and I could get inside; although everyone had been really nice so far, I craved the quiet of the stables and couldn’t wait to meet some of the horses.

  The small door on the side was unlocked and I pushed it open, calling out a “Hello?” as I did. A friendly nicker greeted me from one of the stalls, but no human voices. I stepped inside, taking a deep breath, allowing the familiar smells to fill my lungs; I’d always had a love for horses and riding, so just the warm, earthy aromas of the stables were enough to take me to a happy place.

  Turning the corner into the main hall, my heart swelled as I looked down the aisle and was met by the turned heads of several horses. The friendly one nickered again and I stepped quietly to the first stall where a beautiful bay was stre
tching his neck out toward me. I reached my hand out to pet him.

  “Not that one,” said someone behind me, scaring me half to death.

  I gasped and spun around to see a guy leaning casually against a large push broom as he smiled my way.

  “You startled me,” I said.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, but you were probably about to get bit. I figured you’d want to avoid that.”

  I glanced back at the horse I’d been about to touch. He looked innocent enough, gazing at me with his chocolaty brown eyes and long lashes.

  “I know, he looks like a peach,” the guy said, pushing his broom across the floor, kicking up dust. “But that’s how he draws you in and then CHOMP, he’s taken a chunk out of you. He’s mean.”

  “So why’s he here?” I asked.

  The dark-haired guy, who wore faded jeans and a gray long-sleeved t-shirt with the Rosewood logo on it, pushed his broom again, the bristles making a swishing noise across the floor. “Just is.” Then he looked up at me. “Why are you here?”

  The way he looked at me, almost through me, made me look away. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around horses and I guess I missed them.”

  Swish, swish, swish.

  “So you work here?” I asked, realizing it was a lame question with an obvious answer, but I felt like I needed to fill the silence and that was all my brain could come up with on short notice.

  “Seems so,” he said. Swish, swish, swish. “Name’s Brady.”

  I stepped over to him and stuck out my hand. “I’m Brooklyn. Nice to meet you.”

  As his large, warm hand enveloped mine, I looked into his eyes and realized he wasn’t that old; maybe eighteen or nineteen.

  “Brooklyn, like the borough?”

  I tried not to think too hard about it, remembering how Chelly said she got her name. “Yes.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Thank you,” I said, pulling my eyes away from his intense gaze, realizing as I did that he was still holding my hand. I took it out of his grasp and turned back toward the horses. “So which ones can I touch?”

  I heard a gentle clatter and realized he’d put the broom down. “Come,” he said as he walked past me toward the horses. I didn’t think but to follow him.

  He stopped at the first stall, giving the bay a wide berth. “This is Sir Lancelot, a.k.a. Sir Bitesalot, steer clear.”

  I smiled and nodded. “Got it.”

  He pointed across the way but I had to peek in through the door to see the horse standing at the back of the stall who looked like she was dozing. “That’s Proud Mary; she’s sweet, but old. Mostly she’s retired.”

  He moved to the next set of doors. “This fine roan is Charlie. He’s a real ladies man.” Brady confidently placed his palm on the nose of the curious horse who nodded his head, like he knew he was being talked about and heartily agreed.

  I laughed. “You’ve got him pegged.”

  I stepped closer and lay my own palm on the velvet muzzle. Charlie nickered and nuzzled my hand. I looked up at Brady who, I realized, was standing very close. “I see what you mean.”

  He smiled down at me. “Told you. Next thing you know, the two of you will be riding off into the sunset. He knows how to treat a lady, that’s for sure.”

  “We’re not that complicated,” I said. “Ladies, that is. Guys just need to figure out what we want and then when they deliver, we’re putty.” Where did that come from? I wondered, but held his gaze.

  Brady’s eyes widened for half a second and his tanned face suddenly looked a bit more ruddy than it had a second ago, but he didn’t say anything. I liked that I was able to make him blush. And I was starting to think I was getting good at this flirting thing; first Will and now this guy.

  He stepped to the next stall and stopped, waiting for me to follow. I gave Charlie a final pat and caught up. “This is Poppy and across the way is her best friend, Daisy. They’re both sweethearts and great for beginners, which I’m guessing you’re not.”

  I shook my head. “Eight years of lessons.”

  “English or Western?”

  “English. Dressage. Five blue ribbons.” Yes, I was bragging, and maybe the blue ribbons were won at my own stable’s tiny events, but they still counted—it’s not like this guy was going to track them down.

  His eyebrows lifted as he nodded. “Impressive. Are you going to be on the team here?”

  My heart fluttered a little at the thought of joining a team and competing. I was a bit rusty, but had been pretty good back in the day. “I just arrived today, but I didn’t know there was one. Who is the coach?”

  “Fleming. You’ll like him, but he’s tough. Sign up at the office. During business hours, of course,” he added. “He’ll want to talk to you about your background and experience.”

  “Thanks, well, I guess I should get back. And I don’t want to keep you,” I said; he probably wanted to finish up and get home as it was getting late. I gave Poppy’s soft nose a rub, laughing as she smacked her lips together playfully.

  “Good to meet you, Brooklyn.”

  I looked up. “And you,” I said, giving him a smile, noticing his eyes were the oddest shade of amber that were set off by his black hair. He was quite striking. Beautiful, even.

  I realized I was staring and turned away quickly. “Thanks again. See you around,” I said and quickly left, hearing the swish, swish resume as I gently closed the door behind me.

  Emmeline

  It had been probably the most exhausting day of my life, save the day I moved to London and had jet lag on top of the whole ordeal of moving overseas. But starting a new school, being introduced to a bunch of new girls, unpacking, touring aforementioned new school, not to mention meeting the guy of your dreams, will wear you out completely.

  So when your dorm room door swings open at two a.m., showering you with light from the hallway, you wake up from a dead sleep and have no idea where you are and who might be coming to attack you.

  Luckily for the people in the rooms next to yours, you might even be so out of it that you forget to scream.

  But after a couple of bleary-eyed blinks and a good yawn to get some oxygen to my brain, I realized the girl who had busted into my room had to be none other than my new roommate, Emmeline Somerville. And judging by the shapes behind her, her parents.

  I sat up in bed, pulling the comforter up to my neck, not sure what to even say.

  “Uh hi,” was my opener.

  The light went on, causing me to squint for a moment.

  “Sorry,” Emmeline (?) said in a very curt tone. “We had hoped not to be this late.”

  “It was unavoidable,” the woman behind her added.

  I nodded, still clutching the covers. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I took in my roommate as she drifted into the room. She looked exactly like what you would expect a trust-fund debutante to look like, although a bit disheveled after what must have been at least an entire day of travel. Her complexion looked just about perfect and her eye makeup looked better after who knows how many hours than mine looked five minutes after applying it. Her blond hair was knotted up in what looked like a very complicated twist, soft wisps framing her face and allowing her diamond earrings to show. She wore a diamond necklace to match and a dress that looked casual, but probably cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars off the rack. Even more than the rest of the girls at Rosewood, this girl oozed money.

  And attitude.

  Awesome.

  I swallowed and ran my tongue around my teeth before I introduced myself. I should have shaken her parents’ hands, but I wasn’t about to get out of the bed wearing only a t-shirt and underwear. “I’m Brooklyn Prescott.”

  The woman stepped over to me and shook my hand, “Mrs. Somerville and this is Emmeline and my husband, Mr. Somerville,” she indicated her husband who was arranging two enormous suitcases inside the door.

  “Nice to meet you,”
I said, but she’d already turned to her daughter and her father didn’t bother looking my way.

  “We paid for a single room for you, Emmeline,” he said as he finished with the luggage and stood up.

  Single room? I didn’t even know that was an option.

  Emmeline huffed out a breath and looked like she was about to say something, but Mrs. Somerville interrupted. “Why are we major benefactors of this school, if we can’t be assured our daughter has a private room?”

  “Mother…”

  “I’ll call the dean,” Mrs. Somerville said digging into her purse. I couldn’t believe she was planning to call the dean now.

  “Mother. I’m exhausted,” Emmeline snapped.

  “Fine, I’ll do it in the morning.”

  Emmeline turned to her father. “Thank you for bringing my things up.”

  He nodded and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “We’ll get this straightened out in the morning.”

  Emmeline nodded. “Fine. Thank you both for bringing me and for the summer in Europe. See you at Christmas.”

  Her mother shook her head. “No, honey, we’ll be on the world cruise. But we can Skype.”

  “Right,” Emmeline said, looking not the least bit disappointed. “I forgot. I’ll speak to you soon.”

  Pulling her into a stiff hug, Mrs. Somerville looked at me over her shoulder when she said, “Yes. And we’ll get you out of this room as soon as we can.”

  Which told me pretty much everything I needed to know about Emmeline Somerville. Without another word, I pulled the covers over my head and rolled toward the wall.

  ~♥~

  My alarm buzzed at 6:45 and as I reached for it to turn it off, I realized my groan was joined by another from across the room.

  It almost scared the bejeepers out of me, until I remembered the night before. And Emmeline.

  I peeked across the room and blinked as I realized she was staring back at me.

  “Hi,” she said, sounding even more tired than she looked, which was quite the accomplishment.

  “Hi,” I said back, cautious.

  “Sorry. It was really late last night and now I forget your name.”

  I wasn’t sure why it mattered since one of us was leaving, but I answered her anyway. “Brooklyn Prescott.”

  “I’m Emmeline.”