Recovery

Chapter 12

"Oh you look so cute!" Ivy gushes, in her annoyingly cheerful way.

I glance in a mirror and groan.

I'm wearing a pair of light blue skinny jeans and a blue and white checkered flannel, long sleeved shirt paired with cowboy boots.

No, I didn't pack them.

Yes, I hate the very essence of the clothes.

Apparently, I should have participated more avidly in the packing of my suitcase, because my mom did not pack one thing I like- except a pair of yoga pants and my converse. Those I can live with.

"Ooh I like your locket," Ivy states, smiling.

My hands go up to my neck defensively, and I tuck it under my shirt so it's not viable.

"Touchy, touchy. Okay, we always go on a group ride before dinner so we need to go tack up," she informs me, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the room.

Luckily, everyone gets their own room- the barn house is huge, more like a mansion. It has an extremely long hallway with at least eight doors on each side. I guess we aren't filled to capacity right now.

"Um Ivy- I have no idea how to 'tack up'," I say, pulling my hand away from her and placing it on my hip.

"You'll learn. Come on Gracie, we've got to go!"

At the use of my old nickname, my entire body stiffens and I stumble backwards.

Only Chey called me Gracie.

I blink back the tears that I feel welling up in my eyes and put on my harshest scowl.

"Don't call me Gracie," I snap, shoving past her.

I head outside quickly, trying to put as much difference between Ivy and I as possible.

I end up in the now empty arena, and crumple to the floor, burying my head in my knees. My body is racked with noiseless, tearless sobs.

"You okay?"

I jerk my head up, trying to find the source of the voice.

A girl, probably 16 or 17, with wavy brown hair that goes down to her hips is staring at me with her cool, blue eyes.

"I'm fine," I whisper, trying to stop my lower lip from wobbling. "You must be-" I rack my mind for the names Ivy gave me. "Laurel?"

"Yeah. And you're Grace, right?" She outstretches her hand to me in an offer to help me up.

I nod, and place my hand in hers, standing to my feet.

"We should probably go tack up- do you think you need help?" she questions, and I'm thankful she doesn't ask any questions about why I was upset.

"Tack up?"

"Okay, you do need help," she laughs. "Come on."

We start walking towards the barn in a comfortable silence.

"Which horse do you have?" she asks.

"Trigger- but I'm supposed to ride Diesel," I inform her.

"You got stuck with Trigger? That sucks- but Diesel's a good horse at least."

"Who's your horse?" I question.

"Her name's Secret- she's a leopard Appaloosa," Laurel tells me.

I don't know what an Appaloosa is but I don't bother asking, figuring I'll find out soon enough.

We arrive at the paddock where a trio of horses graze- a dapple grey, a dark brown, and a tan horse with a white mane.

"That's Diesel," she states, pointing to the dark brown horse. "He's a quarter horse gelding."