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going brilliantly now. If you just let us back in you’ll see.”
    â€œI can’t make exceptions for you, Georgie,” said Tara, shaking her head. “How would that look to the other riders?”
    â€œLike you cared,” Georgie said. She knew she was overstepping the mark, and she expected Tara to lose her temper, but her former instructor looked sympathetic.
    â€œI do care, Georgie. But I can’t let you back into the class just like that.”
    Georgie nodded mutely, her heart broken. She turned and was about to leave when Tara spoke again.
    â€œCome back and talk to me about it at the end of term, Georgie. I may have a couple of spaces opening up in the class by then. If you’re excelling in your subjects maybe then we can talk to the headmistress about your possible reinstatement.”
    â€œSo you’d take me back next term?”
    â€œYou’d need to convince Mrs Dickins-Thomson. I’m not making any promises,” Tara said. “Do your best for the rest of the term and then… we’ll see.”
    *
    It was cold outside as she left the stables and Georgie was glad that she’d worn her new coat. The classic army-green Barbour her dad had given her as a Christmas gift was her prized possession.
    She couldn’t believe her father would know enough to buy her the jacket. Her dad had a very bad track record at choosing her presents so it must have been Lucinda’s choice. Either way, Georgie didn’t care – she’d loved the look on her dad’s face when she had said with absolute honesty, “Thank you, Dad – it’s exactly what I wanted!”
    As she headed along the driveway back to Badminton House, Georgie shoved her hands deep in the tartan-lined pockets of the Barbour. Her conversation with Tara had given her the smallest scrap of hope, but in a way that only made it worse. She would spend the whole term struggling with a new class – and for what? Tara might never take her back. What if the headmistress, Mrs Dickins-Thomson, vetoed her request? Maybe Lily was right. Why was she torturing herself like this? Tara had made it clear that she wasn’t promising anything – even at the end of term. And what was she going to do in the meantime? Dressage class was a joke and—
    â€œParker!”
    Georgie groaned. She turned round to confront the two people she had been trying to avoid ever since she arrived back at Blainford: Conrad Miller and Kennedy Kirkwood.
    If Georgie had thought that the concept of Conrad and Kennedy as boyfriend and girlfriend was creepy, the actual sight of them holding hands on the driveway was even more disturbing.
    Both of them were wearing standard uniform navy wool blazers and scarves. Conrad, being a senior, wore long black boots. He also wore spurs, which denoted his status as a prefect.
    â€œHey, Parker!” Conrad called again. “Nice jacket.”
    Georgie didn’t respond. Conrad hadn’t called out to her to give her a compliment. There was something else coming and she knew it.
    â€œBut it’s not regulation school uniform,” Conrad added. “Take it off now.”
    The look of smugness on Kennedy’s face as her boyfriend gave the order was unbearable. Georgie scowled back at them.
    â€œDon’t be a numnah, Conrad. I’ve had a tough day, I’m freezing cold and I’m going back to my dorm, OK? Just leave me alone.”
    â€œI’m serious, Parker,” Conrad said, clearly loving the thrill that his prefect powers were giving him. “That jacket isn’t regulation. Take it off right now.”
    Bristling with anger, Georgie did as he said, pulling the coat off.
    â€œAll right. Satisfied?” She was about to turn round and leave when Conrad spoke again.
    â€œParker.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œGive me the coat.”
    Georgie couldn’t believe it. “I’ve taken it off, Conrad, I won’t wear it at