I leaned against the stable door and watched as Rick drove the nail into Robin's hoof with four swift, sure strokes, then twisted the pointed end off and let it fall onto the concrete pad. I still hadn't made a decision about Squib's shoes, much to Katy's disdain. I'd spent most of Monday evening online trying to research the pros and cons of shoeing horses instead of doing my schoolwork, but all the information I found had been adamant that I would be causing my pony long-term damage by letting a farrier nail big chunks of metal to the bottom of his hooves. The more I thought about it as a concept, the stupider it seemed, and while the rational part of my brain reminded me that horses had been ridden for years in shoes and had survived, there were also a lot of things about horse riding that had been accepted for years as 'just the way it's done', without anyone really thinking about why we still did it. Take mounting from the left side, for example. Back in the olden times soldiers had carried their swords on their left hip, so had mounted from the left to avoid bashing their horses with their swords. It made complete sense, but it had become a tradition that continued down the years to modern times, even though that reasoning was completely irrelevant now. And I'd also discovered an increasing number of people whose horses were successfully show jumping without shoes, which meant that it could be done – even right here in New Zealand.
Rick set Molly's hoof down and accepted the glass of water that Deb was handing him.
"Cheers." He wiped the sweat from his forehead before taking a long drink. "Much better."
"So's Robin, thanks to you," Katy told him. "He looks sound in the paddock, and the vet's coming later this week to check him out again and decide whether he can go back into work."
"Good to know." Rick handed the empty glass back to Deb, who headed back towards the house. "Almost done, then I'll get your grey trimmed up," he said, nodding towards me.
Katy was giving me a pointed look, so I spoke up. "Do you think I should put shoes on my pony?"
Rick looked at me, then shrugged. "Why the change?"
"He's been slipping a bit," I said. "I don't want him to get hurt, but..." My voice trailed off as I wondered how smart it would be to start asking a farrier if he was doing long-term damage to horses' joints, because even if he knew he was, he would be unlikely to admit it.
"A bit?" Katy interjected. "He fell over in the jump off last weekend," she told Rick on my behalf. "Lost his whole back end on the turn, strained himself pretty bad. She's just moved him up to metre-fifteens, and he's entered in his first metre-twenty at Taupo in two weeks. But AJ won't admit that he needs shoes for traction, so you'll have to talk her into it."
Rick frowned as he moved to Robin's back hoof and lifted it, resting it on his knee. "It's not my job to talk you into anything," he told me. "You're the rider, you know what's best for your pony."
"But she doesn't," Katy insisted, following him to Robin's hind end. "He can't jump metre-twenties and move up to Grand Prix next year if he can't even keep his footing on the corners."
Rick looked up at me. "If he's slipping a lot, studs will help," he said. "That's why we use them."
"What about the strain on their legs?" I asked tentatively, thinking again of Aidan's knee injury after his stud had caught on the grass. He'd made a full recovery, according to the physio, but he wasn't as fast as he'd been before, and probably never would be again. It hadn't bothered him overly much because he wasn't planning on a rugby career anyway, but if Squib suffered an injury like that I'd never forgive myself.
"I won't lie to you and say it can't happen," Rick admitted. "But it's a calculated risk, just like riding tight turns on slippery ground without studs would be."
He set the shoe against Robin's hind foot and looked at it from all angles, trying to judge the fit. Satisfied, he pulled out his hoof knife and started gouging semi-circular chunks out of the sides of the pony's hoof for the quarter clips to sit in.
"What would you recommend?" I asked him, but he just shrugged.
"Like I said. Entirely up to you."
"If he was yours?" Katy pressed, wanting him to be on her side. But he wouldn't be baited.
"If he was mine, I'd be too bloody chicken to jump a metre-twenty in the first place," Rick said with a smile. Robin shifted his weight uneasily, and Rick set his hoof down for a moment. "If you really don't want shoes on him, I'm not going to tell you that he has to have them. He has good feet, your pony, nice and solid. He'll be just fine barefoot for most things, but if he's struggling with slippery ground then studs will help. It's up to you to make that decision."
He picked up a couple of nails and held them between his lips, then clicked his tongue to Robin, who lifted his hoof obediently.
"Just try it," Katy said. "Give it a go, and see if you find a difference. If you don't, then you can take the shoes off again. They're not permanent, you know."
I shrugged, supposing that was true. Rick drove the nails into Robin's shoe, then glanced up at me.
"You better decide quick though, because if I'm going to be shoeing your boy today then I'll need to drag my boy out of the ute and get him to give us a hand."
I blinked at him, then glanced over at his dirty grey ute. For the first time, I noticed that there was someone in there, half-sitting half-lying across the back seat.
"Um...I think just a trim today. Since I haven't given you any warning," I decided, ignoring Katy's exasperated eye-roll.
Rick nodded, driving the remaining nails home in Robin's hoof and setting it down. "Okay. I appreciate that. If you do change your mind, give us a call and I'll try and fit you in."
As he spoke, the back door of the ute swung open, and we all looked up as a teenage boy climbed out feet first. He was tall, close to six foot, with wavy brown hair that glinted red in the afternoon sun.
"Aren't you done yet, old man?" he asked. "Mum's just called to say dinner's on the table."
"I said I wouldn't be done until six," Rick replied, then introduced us. "Harry, this is Katy and AJ. Girls, my son Harry."
We nodded and smiled at each other, and I couldn't help noticing Harry's green eyes and broad shoulders. His eyes seemed to linger on my face for a moment, making me blush, then he returned his attention to his father. "It's ten past six, Dad."
Rick clearly didn't believe him until he glanced at his watch, then swore. "She's not going to be happy with me."
"Nope."
"Give us a hand to finish up then," he told his son, who groaned but shut the ute door behind him and headed in our direction. "Get your pony out for him AJ, he'll do the basic trim and I'll tidy it up afterwards."
Squib was fully engaged in a game of Bite Your Face with Lucas, but he pricked his ears at me as I stepped into his loosebox, his leadrope swinging from my hand. I was pretty sure that none of the online natural hoof care forums recommended letting your farrier's teenage son file your horse's hooves, no matter how cute he was, but I wasn't sure I could say that to his face, so I led Squib out onto the concrete and stood nervously by his head.
"Cute pony," Harry said, reaching up to rub Squib between the eyes. My pony butted his head against Harry's arm, and he chuckled. "Smart arse. Okay then, let's see what we've got."
He ran his hand down Squib's foreleg and lifted it easily, then brushed the loose shavings off with his other hand. "Nice hooves."
"It's got fantastic feet, that pony," his father commented as he clenched Robin's nails.
"Yeah, really good." Harry picked up the hoof nippers at his feet and started clipping off the overgrown edges of Squib's hoof.
My pony turned his head around and nuzzled Harry's rear end in his usual friendly way. Harry jumped, dropping Squib's hoof to the concrete and spinning around to look at me with one eyebrow raised.
"Did you just touch my butt?" he asked, sounding taken aback.
"Me?" My face flushed bright red. "No! It was Squib."
Harry looked at Squib, who was regarding him with equal scepticism, then back to me. "Then how come he's not the one who's blushing?"
"Quit flirting and get on with the job," Rick told him from the other side of Robin. "We're on a schedule here."
Harry shot me a wicked grin. "You heard him. So behave yourself, all right?"
He turned around again and picked Squib's foreleg up once more. This time when my pony tried to turn his head around to nuzzle him, I kept the lead rope firm and made him continue facing forwards, anxious to avoid any further embarrassment.
I carefully observed Squib's hoof trimmings as they fell to the concrete, hoping that Harry wouldn't do anything stupid like take too much off and leave my pony lame. He didn't seem to be removing very much at all, which I supposed was good, although it bothered me a little that I would be paying full price for him to do what looked like a minimum effort job. He set the nippers down and picked up the rasp, and I shifted around to the side of my pony to get a better look at what he was doing. Taking full advantage of my decreased concentration level, Squib swung his head to the left and immediately started snuffling Harry's butt again, much to my horror.
Harry turned his head and looked at me. "Do that again and you'll have to buy me dinner."
When Rick was done with Robin, he tidied up his tools while Harry finished up with Squib. He lowered his last hoof, clapped my pony's shoulder, and turned to his father.
"All done."
"Let's have a look." Rick went around each hoof in turn, but other than a quick rasp on one back hoof to bring the inside heel a little lower, he didn't make any alterations.
"Good work," he said approvingly. "Nice tidy job."
Harry grinned and turned towards me and Katy, holding up his hand for a high five. Katy slapped it willingly, making Squib jump, but when he turned towards me I avoided his gaze, staring instead down at my pony's hooves and trying to decide whether I thought they looked a little differently-shaped in front.
"Planning on going into the family business?" Deb asked Harry, who shook his head.
"This is a mug's game," he said with a glance at his father. "I'd like to still be able to walk when I'm sixty, thanks very much."
"Watch it," his father warned him. "I'm still a long way off sixty."
"You keep telling yourself that, we'll keep humouring you," Harry shot back as a dark green sedan drove into the yard, stopping in a small cloud of dust.
Katy immediately stood up straighter and started fussing with her hair, and I rolled my eyes and walked Squib out to the paddock, calling over my shoulder to Anders.
"I'll be there in a sec!"
I led Squib through the gate and unbuckled his halter, letting him go free. He stood with me for a moment, snuffling my pockets for treats, so I gave him a peppermint and a rub between the ears.
"I hope that wasn't a big mistake," I whispered to him, looking again at his newly trimmed hooves, but Squib seemed unfazed by my concern, checking me once more for treats before wandering off in search of tasty grass, and I walked back to the yard.
Anders was leaning against his car, one elbow resting on its roof as he chatted animatedly to Harry. I walked around to the passenger door and opened it, throwing my school bag onto the floor and looked over at my brother.
"I'm ready when you are."
Anders tilted his head and looked back at me. "Do I look ready?"
I looked from him to Harry and back again, then nodded. "Yeah."
Harry winced, clutching at his chest. "Ouch." He looked at Anders and shook his head. "Your sister's a bit deficient in the charm department. Did you take the entire family's allocation?"
"Not all of it," Anders objected, glancing at me. "Lexi's positively overflowing with personability."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Don't even start," I warned him. "You definitely got her share."
"Yeah, but I evened it out by letting her have all the brains," Anders grinned.
Harry was following our conversation with interest. "I know Lexi," he said. "She's in my History class. She's a funny one, eh?"
Our heads both snapped towards him, and I could feel the tension rising under my skin. Even Anders tensed up slightly, though he did his best to hide it.
"She can be," my brother said, trying to keep his voice casual.
Harry grinned. "She's hysterical. Corrects the teacher constantly, but the best part is that she's always right. She should be teaching that class," he continued. "Knows more about it than Mr Gibbs ever will, the old dinosaur. Reckon he might as well retire and let her take over full-time. We'd all learn a helluva lot more."
I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding, filled with a palpable sense of relief that he hadn't made fun of Lexi. Anders and I were allowed to do that, because she was our sister and we had to live with her day in and day out, which wasn't always easy. But nobody outside of the family was allowed to mock or complain about her – it was an unspoken rule of siblinghood. That was something that Katy was still learning, but I doubted that Harry was an only child like her.
"Got any sisters yourself?" Anders asked, reading my mind.
"Sadly yes," he said. "None quite as touchy-feely as yours though," he added, wiggling his eyebrows at me suggestively and making me blush yet again.
Anders gave both of us a suspicious look. "Not sure I want to know about that."
"Probably best not to, mate," Harry said agreeably, and before I had a chance to explain, Rick interrupted.
"Right boy, enough," he said, pulling the door of his ute open with a creak and climbing in. "We've got dinner on the table, remember?"
Harry saluted his father, clicking his heels together and making Anders chuckle as he got back into his car. I began to follow suit as Harry strolled around to the passenger door of the ute and pulled it open, then looked over his shoulder at me.
"Hey, AJ." I paused, half in and half out of Anders' car.
"What?"
"I'll be waiting for your call about dinner."
"You'll be waiting a long time," I told him, slipping into the car and slamming the door behind me.
Anders started the engine, giving me a strange sideways look as he waited for Rick to drive out first, but he didn't say anything until we'd reached the end of Katy's road and turned in the opposite direction.
"So. Scud, eh?"
I looked at Anders blankly. "What?"
He flicked his head in the direction that Rick had driven. "Scud. Or whatever his real name is. Harry?"
I blinked. "Scud?"
"On account of the way he takes off like a missile whenever he gets the ball," Anders said by way of explanation. "Straight through the opposition. Boom."
And then it clicked in my head. "He's in your rugby team."
Anders reached over and ruffled the top of my head. "You're so smart," he teased me.
"Shut up." I pushed his arm away, and pulled my hair out of its ponytail. "How well do you know him?"
"Scud? Pretty well, he's been on my team all year. Best winger we've had in ages." He looked over at me. "Bit of a ladies man though."
"Unlike you."
Anders grinned. "Yeah, well. Me I trust around my little sister. Scud?" He sucked in some air through his teeth, considering. "Not sure on that one."
"Well you can relax. I only met him today, and he's definitely not my type."
Anders didn't seem reassured. "Sure about that? Because you're definitely his."
* * *
It's weird how you can go for years without even noticing someone, but as soon as they've been brought to your attention, you start seeing them constantly. That was certainly the case with Harry (I still couldn't bring myself to think of him as Scud, which was one of the worst nicknames I'd ever heard). I'd barely walked in the school gates the following morning before a rugby ball came flying towards my head. Instinctively I reached up and caught it, then turned to look where it had come from and saw Harry jogging towards me with a smile.
"Nice catch."
"Thanks. Crap pass."
He stopped a few metres from me, his smile playing around the edges of his mouth. "It was a kick actually."
"Even worse."
"Think you can do better?"
I didn't dignify that with an answer, except to drop the ball onto my shoe and punt it cleanly back into his hands.
"Not bad," Harry said approvingly as he caught it. "You play?"
"I used to. Not anymore. Too busy with the ponies now."
His smile faded slightly. "Ah, horses. Waste of time and money, if you ask me."
"Good thing I didn't, then."
"Didn't have to. That gem of knowledge was on the house."
"Wow. Your generosity knows no bounds."
Harry grinned wider, shuffling the ball from one hand to the other as he walked towards me, his green eyes fixed on mine. "So how is it that our paths have never crossed before?"
"Pure, unadulterated luck," I replied.
Harry laughed. "Guess your luck just ran out."
"You noticed that too?"
He started to say something else, but the bell rang to summon us to class, drowning out his attempt to speak. He waited for it to finish, then sighed.
"Saved by the bell."
I rolled my eyes. "Wow, you're original. How do you come up with this stuff?"
"Hours of practice," he said, his face deadpan serious. "Occasional cue cards, but mostly I work without them these days."
"Am I supposed to be impressed?" I started walking towards my classroom and he fell in next to me. His friends had dispersed, although one was following us at a slight distance.
"If you think it'll help my chances, sure."
I looked at him sideways. "I think you're dreaming, if I'm honest."
"I like to think of myself as persistent."
"Or creepy."
"You like me," he insisted, and I snorted.
"Delusional, too."
"Enthusiastic," he countered, and I rolled my eyes.
"Is this really the best you've got?"
Harry feigned disappointment. "Not working, huh?"
"Not nearly."
"Hmm. I might have to reshuffle my cue cards and get back to you."
"Good luck with that," I told him as I turned towards my homeroom, but he stopped and pointed in the opposite direction.
"I'm going this way."
"Good for you." I kept walking, reaching a hand out to push the double doors open into the corridor.
"I'll miss you," he called, and I turned around in bemusement to see him watching me, one hand laid dramatically over his heart and a lovelorn expression on his face.
I just shook my head at him as the girls in front of me started giggling. "You're pathetic."
Harry grinned. "You'll come around. Just wait."
"In your dreams."
I pushed my way through the doors, letting them swing closed behind me and trying to ignore the looks that the other girls were giving me. A few strides down the corridor and I glanced back over my shoulder, but Harry was gone.
* * *
"Pass the mashed potato."
"What's the magic word?"
"Pass the mashed potato, asshole."
"AJ!" Dad scolded me as Anders widened his eyes and tightened his grip on the bowl.
"Well now you're definitely not getting any," he told me primly. "What kind of example is that setting for the younger generation?"
I looked around the table. "What younger generation? Astrid's not even here."
Anders' eyes followed mine. "Huh. So she isn't." He set the potatoes down again and started looking around the room, then ducked his head under the table. "Astrid, you down there?"
Ignoring his attempt at humour, I stood up and reached over in front of Lexi to reach the unguarded bowl, then dished another spoonful onto my plate as I sat back down.
"Astrid's at a friend's place," Dad explained as Anders sat back up.
"A sleepover on a school night?" Anders sounded scandalised. "I know they say the rules don't apply to the youngest child, but this is taking it a bit far! Next thing you know she'll be staying out all night and coming home plastered, setting a bad example to us all."
"She's not sleeping over, Aidan's picking her up on his way home from the gym," Dad said. "Lexi, you're not to leave the able until everyone's done, you know that," he warned my sister as she abruptly got to her feet.
"But AJ eats so much," Alexia complained, slumping back down into her chair and glaring at me.
"Better get her a grazing muzzle like Squib's, what d'you reckon?" Anders asked her, and she smirked.
I lifted my fork and flipped a chunk of mashed potato in my brother's direction, but he just moved his head and caught it in his mouth.
"Thanks sis," he said once he'd swallowed it. "I heard you were showing off your footy skills to Scud this morning."
I half-choked on my mouthful of potato, which only made Anders' smile widen. After taking a swig of water, I started defended myself.
"He kicked the ball at my head," I told him. "If I hadn't caught it I'd have been knocked flat."
"He's just pulling on your pigtails," Anders teased, making me roll my eyes.
"Well you can tell him to give it up," I replied. "He's not nearly as charming as he thinks he is."
"Are you talking about Harry Conrad?" Lexi said. "Because people call him Scud."
"Yes we are, and yes they do," Anders said agreeably.
"He's in my History class."
"Is that so?"
"I think he likes me."
Anders and I looked at each other across the table, then both of our heads swivelled back towards Lexi.
"Oh yeah?" Anders asked. "Why d'you say that?"
"Because he told the other boys to stop annoying me, and they did." Lexi looked pleased with herself. "They didn't stop when I told them to, but they listened to him and then they left me alone."
"Well that's good," I said, my throat thick with potato.
"And he sat next to me in class and he liked it when I had to remind Mr Gibbs that Rasputin was shot three times, not four. Once in the stomach, once in the kidneys and once in the head. I think he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend."
We all knew that she wasn't talking about Rasputin. I shot an astonished look at Anders, who raised a sceptical eyebrow at me.
"That's great, hon," Dad said, sounding genuinely pleased and clearly oblivious to the nuances of the situation. "I'll look forward to meeting this young man."
"I'm going to invite him over for pizza tomorrow night," Lexi said decisively, standing up and breaking into one of her rare, genuine smiles.
"I hope he can make it," Dad said diplomatically.
Lexi left the room, and we could hear her humming to herself in the kitchen as Dad stood up and followed suit, leaving Anders and I alone at the table.
"Huh." My brother leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles. "This is going to go well."