Comeback by Jessica Burkhart

Author:Jessica Burkhart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

AND THE OSCAR GOES TO . . .

Lauren Towers’s Blog

8:55 p.m.: Weekend wrap-up!

Yesterday was amaze! After my sleepover at R and C’s on Friday night, we went on a trail ride with D. The best part was watching Whisper have fun—she loved getting out of her stall and not heading straight to practice. K chose a trail I’d never been on, and it was très magnifique (really magnificent)! The horses got to stretch their legs, especially when we let them gallop. Whisper and I flew over the field, and I forgot that everything else existed.

No classes.

No R.

No drama.

No thinking about home.

No missing my friends.

No thinking abt boys.

No worrying abt riding.

Just riding. And loving it.

When I pulled Whisper up, I was next to D. I glanced at him and was glad to be back to reality. D and I are getting closer, very slowly, and he seems like a guy I can trust. Plus, there’s just something so interesting about him that I always feel like there’s so much we have to talk about. So much I want to know!

After the trail ride, C, K, D, and I walked our horses back to the stable, and D and I chatted the whole way back. We went as a group to The Sweet Shoppe and got ice cream. Everyone was excited from our ride, and we started talking about the schooling show.

Oh, mon Dieu!

It’s coming up faster and faster. One more weekend of practice and then . . . showtime.

Can’t.

Talk.

About.

It.

Too nervous. But I will say I’m going to practice a zillion times harder and work every spare second with Whisper. I know better than to overwork her, though, and, being with her just to talk is invaluable. I my horse.

Heading to bed now. K’s already snuggled in and reading a mag. I’ve got a copy of French Vogue waiting for me.

Night!

Xoxo

Posted by Lauren Towers

• • •

I closed my laptop lid and pushed back my desk chair. I unclipped my freshly showered hair and grabbed Bumble and bumble Prep and my smoothing serum from the caddy in the bathroom. Then I walked back to my bed and picked up a brush from my nightstand. Khloe had already dried her own hair and was in pjs—flowy baby-blue pants and a white tank.

Two quick knocks startled me, making me glance at Khloe and then at the door.

“No clue,” Khloe said. She put down her magazine.

I opened the door to a grinning Riley. Her slinky black hair shimmered around her shoulders. She’d paired a boatneck shirt—with PINK emblazoned across the front in neon blue—with black leggings.

“Hi, Lauren,” she said. “Can I come in for a sec?”

“Um, sure . . .”

Riley breezed by me and walked to my desk, sitting down in my chair. She spun it around to face Khloe, who’d sat up in bed.

“Hi, Khlo!” Riley chirped. “Read any good gossip?”

“Not really. Must be a boring week in Hollywood,” Khloe said. “What’s up?”

Translation: Why are you here, Riley?

“Omigosh, I had to come say hi to you guys!” Riley said.

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