Leslie and I were stowing our tack after riding class when Leslie said to me, right out loud, right in front of Gayle, “I hope we have plenty of people at the tournament tomorrow, Kat.”
I wanted to slap my hand over Leslie’s mouth.
“What tournament?” Gayle asked, coming into the tack room, even though she didn’t have anything to put away.
“The joust,” Leslie said. “You should come.”
“It’ll be fun.” Leslie hung up her bridle. “It only costs $5.00 to enter, and they give out trophies. Except Kat and I never win anything but ribbons.”
“I don’t ride for the ribbons,” I said to Leslie. I wished she’d never brought the subject up. I went out to get my pony’s saddle.
“You sure won’t win a trophy if you think you can’t,” Gayle called after me. She didn’t have to put her saddle away because her pony was being ridden by somebody else the next hour.
“You don’t know anything about jousting.” I pulled my saddle off and struggled under its weight.
“She knows about winning.” Leslie gave me a hand carrying.
Gayle’s parents had won some dressage trophies. That didn’t mean Gayle knew anything.