Carry On (Book 1)

Chapter 1:

Ariel's POV:

Storm; Noun: a violent disturbance of the atmosphere with strong winds and usually rain, thunder, lightning, or snow. A tumultuous reaction; an uproar or controversy...

A horse like him will never be ridden
A horse like him could never be a jumper
A horse like him will never know love

A horse like Storm...

" Look! "

I'm snapped out of my mindless thoughts when the shrieking of my younger sister Jess practically sliced through the silence inside my dads' old rusted pickup.

Jess' twin, my other younger sister Tess, pressed her face against the glass opposite of the window that currently had Jess' face squished against it.

" Horses! "

I couldn't help but look up from my lap and the book I was currently reading (trying to read) to see the mix of colors dotting the lush green pastures that lined Willow Lane Academy's driveway.

Chestnut, bay, grey, black, even a few roams and palominos grazed calmly without a care in the world.  Just watching them helped me calm down my own nerves.

Tess has obviously been the one to scream about the horses. Even though my younger twin siblings looked, talked and acted alike, there were key differences in their personalities that helped to tell them apart.

Tess was like me...and our mom. She loved horses, loved reading about them, loved riding them and just loved being around them.

Jess, on the other hand, was more like my dad. Given the way, her eyes sparkled not when she saw the horses, but the tall willow trees and flowers that made up the rest of the driveway beyond the pastures.

Dad planted flowers and vegetables in his garden every year and sold them in the market during harvest season. It didn't bring in much, but it was enough for us to get by with what we had.

But we weren't back home. This wasn't Kasper Wyoming, this was New York City countryside.

I think the farmers out here make ten times as much as we did.

Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad. Christopher Whitman, the man who had left his comfortable life to run off with the farmers' daughter.

Or in this case, the horse whisperer.

" Where in the world is someone supposed to find the stables around here? " His mastered country accent seemed so out of place here, but then again, the whole Whitman family seemed out of their element.

Including me.

I had thought it had been a joke at first. Some sick trick being played on me by the group of local boys known for causing trouble. The official Willow Lane Academy stamp, along with the signature of the headmistress herself, had been quick to change my mind, however.

I pulled the crumpled letter out of my back pocket.

Dear Miss Whitman

Willow Lane Academy is pleased to inform you that, after careful review and faculty request by our riding instructor Mr. Mallen, we would like to extend to you an invitation to join our school by scholarship. All expenses paid for, you will have admission to attend or world-renowned academic classes as well as becoming the assistant trainer and equine exercise rider in our equestrian program. A monthly salary will be sent to your family as this is a working student position as well as an educational experience

Welcome to Willow Lane Academy

Signed, Eliza Samuels, Headmistress.

I had crumpled and re-crumpled the letter so many times that the headmistress' signature was starting to fade.