Blame the Horse, Thanks

November 27, 2017

“This is officially the worse part of the trip,” I thought. I lifted my legs out of the stirrup to stretch them after almost twenty minutes of sitting in the same position. A bead of sweat from my neck slowly slid down my back, and I adjusted my sunglasses for what felt like the millionth time. “Can’t your horse go any faster, Kayla?” Dillon yelled from behind me. “No, Dillon, he won't go any faster,” I sniped back. That was the millionth time one of my friends had asked me that question. Littlefoot dragged along as if he knew what Dillon had asked. I kicked his sides, like the instructor told us, to get him to move faster. That only made him shift more to the edge of the cliff. “Come on, please work with me,” I leaned forward to whisper to him. He suddenly bolted towards the edge of the cliff and turned last second to avoid hurdling us to our deaths. “FUDGE,” I screamed, except I did not say fudge. The four horses behind me carrying my friends all followed suit. The horses were trained to follow the path of the horse in front of them, but Littlefoot seemed to live life on the edge. “KAYLA, WHAT THE HECK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” Karen screamed at me. “IT’S NOT LIKE I PLANNED THAT KAREN,” I screamed back. Every decision Littlefoot made was blamed on me. It was my first time horseback riding, and they were acting like I should have full control of the horse.


“Maddi, do you know how much longer,” I called to my best friend. “I don’t know, It’s gonna be awhile though,” Maddi answered. “Okay,” I thought, “I can do this, we must be almost halfway up.” As soon as I finished my thought, Littlefoot came to a halt. Anna’s horse ran into mine, causing a ripple effect all the way to Karen in the rear. “Move, Kayla,” Anna said. Slamming my feet into Littlefoot's sides I asked, “Don’t you see me trying?” Karen yelled from the back, “Kayla, what are you doing?” I was reaching the end of my patience. Turning in my saddle I called back to Karen, “The Macarena, or maybe I’ll start reading a book. The possibilities are endless really.” Dillon, sensing I was about to snap, sarcastically said, “Well, you should do that faster. You’re really slow today.” I snapped. “I AM SO TIRED OF YOU GUYS TELLING ME TO ‘MOVE FASTER’ OR ‘HURRY UP’! IT’S NOT COOL AND I HAVE NO CONTROL, SO IF YOU WOULD STOP THAT WOULD BE GREAT!” I was shaking with rage. Littlefoot seemed to sense this and started trotting again only to stop after fifty feet. I heard everyone telling me to get a move on, but I blocked them out. I leaned forward on Littlefoot and smoothed down his main. I whispered to him, “Can’t you just move forwards? We only have about forty-five minutes left.” I looked up at my friends and laughed to myself. I had calmed down a bit, and that was when I realized my friends were just messing with me. Littlefoot and I seemed to reach some sort of understanding because he suddenly decided to start moving again. I blocked out my friends’ calls and jabs at me for the rest of the ride. When we got back down to the mountain, I was the last one off my horse. I walked in front of Littlefoot to give him a little pat and turned to my friends waiting for me. I put my hands on my hips, leaned forward and stuck my tongue out. They all laughed, and I knew I had a great group of friends in front of me.






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