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shoulder, then let it drop. “Guess the other guys didn’t want to freak him out. I told Max you were never going to actually rat Javier out to Jamie, anyway. So no harm, no foul. At least for that part.”
    Zara wasn’t sure how to respond, so she didn’t. Just turned and lifted the saddle flap, pretending to check her girth.
    After a moment of silence, Fitz cleared his throat. “Anyway, I just thought you’d like to know,” he said. “Gotta go. Have a good ride, okay?”
    â€œThanks,” Zara muttered without taking her eyes off the girth.
    She wasn’t going to let Fitz know it, but her mood had just ticked up a notch. Okay, so all the other juniors still knew exactly what she’d done, plus now she had this new garbage at home to deal with. But at least she wouldn’t have to feel guilty every time she looked at Javier from now on.
    At least there was that.
    Soon she was leading Ellie outside. The assistant trainer was teaching a bunch of bratty tweens in the big jumping ring, so Zara kept going to the next ring. A couple of adult amateurs were in there schooling their horses. So was Summer, mounted on a chunky bay that Zara was pretty sure was her large junior hunter. Not that she paid much attention to anything having to do with Summer.
    â€œIn here, Zara!” Summer called, waving her hand.
    Zara almost turned and kept going. But why bother? She’d grown up learning to ignore pushy paparazzi and obnoxious fans. Summer was nothing.
    â€œCome on, girlie,” she whispered to Ellie, leading her in and turning toward the mounting block.
    â€œHurry up, Zara! Maybe we can do like a fake pairs class or something. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
    â€œWatch where you’re going,” one of the adults snapped loudly, swinging her horse out to avoid running into Summer, who’d just turned sharply toward the center of the ring without looking.
    Zara hid a smirk by fiddling with her stirrup. She’d vaguely noticed that particular adult ammy at the shows, a woman in her thirties with a cocky attitude and a foul mouth. She was some kind of big-shot lawyer or something—what was her name again? Mary, Marcy?
    â€œSorry, Margie,” Summer said.
    Margie had cantered down toward the other end of the ring by now, catching up to the other ammy, an older woman on a placid-looking gray. Summer halted and watched Zara mount.
    â€œHold still, girl,” Zara ordered as Ellie danced in placebeside the mounting block. She managed to get her left foot in the stirrup and swing aboard, but her horse immediately trotted off with her head in the air.
    â€œYou shouldn’t let her do that,” Summer said. “Jamie says they’re supposed to stand until you tell them to move off.”
    Zara had already started shortening her reins, preparing to halt. But she wasn’t about to let Summer think she was taking riding advice from the likes of her. So instead, she gave Ellie a sharp kick.
    The mare flung her head in the air and broke into a choppy canter. Zara had to squeeze with both legs to stay on, since she hadn’t really gotten her seat yet—or even picked up her right stirrup. Her tight leg—or maybe that flapping stirrup—made Ellie even more agitated, and soon she was bolting straight across the ring.
    â€œSettle down, dammit!” Zara exclaimed, fishing for the stirrup as best she could. She finally caught it and stood in both stirrups, hauling on the reins.
    â€œLook out!” a frightened voice called.
    Zara looked up. Ellie was headed straight toward the older adult ammy. All Zara knew about her was that her name was Mrs. Walsh and she was some kind of rich New York socialite. Oh, and that she was one of those chickenshit adult riders who preferred her horses one step livelier than dead. Yeah, running over someone like her wasn’t exactly the best way for Zara to stay on Jamie’s good side.
    â€œWhoa, you