Defining Gravity (Defining Gravity Series Book 1) Read online

  “Oh, Astrid,” Hilary’s mother said as soon as she saw my face. Her eyes widened as she took in the sling and the livid bruise that ran from my right cheekbone all the way down into the collar of my shirt. “Come inside, Ronald is making cookies and you’re just in time to add the chocolate chips.”

  Mr. Ahlberg ran his business from home, but when he needed to de-stress, he liked to bake things. His job must have been pretty stressful because the house was always overflowing with more delicious food than one family could eat. Every weekend they’d take Rubbermaid tubs full of dessert down to the church soup kitchen and help serve homeless people. They were actually pretty religious, but not in an ‘in your face’ sort of way. They basically just tried to love people and not hurt them. It’s hard to fault that.

  “You, too, Marion. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted Ronald’s cookies. They practically melt in your mouth.”

  Marion recoiled slightly, clutching her purse with both hands and wrinkling her nose delicately. “No thank you, Linea,” she said quickly. “And I’d appreciate if Astrid didn’t have too many, either. She’s watching her carb and sugar intake. Astrid, I’ll pick you up in a few days.”

  “Thanks again,” I said weakly to her retreating back. I hoped Dad wouldn’t be too hard on her.

  Hilary’s mom wrapped me in a careful hug so she didn’t re-injure me, and this time I didn’t worry about holding back my tears. I never had to hide how I felt here.

  “I’m so sorry about your injury, sweetie. We’re all so proud at how hard you’ve worked; this is just a minor blip in your career, though. You’ll be back better than ever in no time.”

  I groaned. Last year, I’d come home with an individual gold medal in archery from the BC Winter Games, which was a province-wide competition for young talent. My dad had left aside the chilly politeness he reserved for me and had looked at me with new regard, as if he’d just woken up to find a brand-new, exciting, daughter living in his house. He’d gone on and on about how I was destined for the Olympics; he’d even gone so far as to surprise me with the trip to Mongolia for this July. I’d always wanted to go there. My dad had one of his mining offices in Ulaanbaatar, but I’d never in a million years dreamed he’d take me with him. He usually spent as little time with me as possible.

  The gift had been a surprise; the first nice thing he’d ever planned for me on his own. We’d gone out to dinner at a fancy Greek restaurant to celebrate my birthday; just the two of us. We’d sat across from each other while he talked about all sorts of things. His eyes had shone with pride and excitement when he’d handed me the envelope holding the tickets. My heart had lit up from within like a firecracker, feeling we were going to be a real father and daughter at last.

  One silly mistake and, in the seconds it took me to crash down into that lake, my brief friendship with him was over. If I couldn’t compete then I’d killed both our dreams in one stupid move. He was never, ever going to forgive me.

  Hilary slid down the hall from the kitchen in her socked feet, coasting across the polished wood floor without stopping until she’d skidded sideways into her mom and added herself to our hug.

  “Come on, Astrid,” she murmured, “don’t be upset. Marion said you probably only have to rest for the summer and then you’ll be back in training. You’ll have hardly missed any time at all. And we’ll come up with something else fun to do.”

  Her huge blue eyes were wide with compassion. She’d coiled her waist-length blonde hair into a bun on top of her head and wore some sort of modern ballet type costume with tights, gauzy skirt and purple legwarmers that only she could have pulled off wearing. Hilary was pretty much the opposite of me; she was thin and athletic and was always bubbling over with confident enthusiasm while I hovered in the background like her dark, hulking shadow.

  Everyone who met Hilary was instantly charmed. People were constantly telling her that she should be a model or an actress, but she never seemed to let all the compliments go to her head; it was like she didn’t care what people thought of her at all. She’d gone to Sacred Heart with me for a year before she’d started homeschooling and we’d somehow stayed friends. Sometimes I wondered if she was only nice to me because of the religion thing; like maybe it was her duty to befriend losers like me. But for some reason she genuinely seemed to like having me around.

  “Thanks, Hilary.” I sighed. “But there is nothing better than Archery; it’s literally the only thing I’m good at. Besides, Dad already paid for training camp this summer plus my ticket to Mongolia. I’ll bet he won’t be able to get his money back for either of them. He’ll never speak to me again if that happens. I’ll be grounded for life.”

  “Oh”—Hilary waved her hand in the air dismissively—“he’ll get over it. He’ll stomp around and be mad for a week then find something else to obsess over.”

  “Hilary,” her mom warned. “That’s not very respectful.”

  “Sorry, Mom. He’s always so mean to Astrid and he never says anything nice. He’s always grumbling like a big, angry warthog, don’t you think?”

  Hilary’s mom didn’t answer, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. She ruffled her daughter’s hair and pushed us both gently toward the kitchen.

  “What I think is that it’s time for you two to get some cookies.”

  I wasn’t about to argue with that.

  Later that night, when Hilary and I were tucked into the two double beds in our favourite ocean-themed guest room, we talked seriously about what I would do if I couldn’t practice or compete. My whole world had been balanced between school and archery for the last three years. I lived, breathed, and slept for shooting. My bow had a place of honor hanging on my bedroom wall, and I spent more time at the range than I did in my own home. No matter what the doctor thought I needed, I knew I’d go crazy lying around our cold, empty condo doing nothing.

  “What about horses?” Hilary hung half out of bed, her head hanging over the edge so she looked at me upside-down, long blonde hair pooling on the floor.

  “What about them?”

  “You could start riding with me. It’s lots of fun. Take lessons, win lots of shows, make your dad happy, you know the drill.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that sounds easy. Considering I’ve never sat on a horse in my life. Besides, aren’t riding lessons expensive?”

  “Does it really matter? Old Money Bags can afford to pay for a few lessons, can’t he?”

  I giggled. Hilary made up the best nick names for everyone. “Oh, he has money all right, but it’s pretty hard to get him to pay for anything unless you practically beg. He didn’t buy me a new bow until I started winning with the old, crappy one.”

  “Well, there you go. You don’t even need your own horse. Take lessons on a school horse to see if you even like it.”

  “Hilary, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t throw me out of the house or ship me off to military school once Marion tells him what happened. There’s a reason I’m hiding here until he cools off. I’m pretty sure my dad is not going to give me anything except a headache from all the yelling. Plus, you missed an obvious flaw in your plan. I can’t use my right arm at all. I think you need both hands to ride a horse, don’t you?”

  She grinned at me wickedly. “Not if you ride with Claudia, you don’t. She’s going to have you on the lunge line working on your position for months. She’s not even going to let you touch the reins until she’s sure you’re not going to wreck her horses.”

  I shook my head doubtfully and reached down to check my phone for the millionth time. Miranda hadn’t answered any of my texts yet. I knew she would be furious with me for missing the tournament this weekend, but it was strange that I hadn’t heard from her at all since the accident.

  “I’m not athletic like you, Hilary. I’m too fat to sit on a horse.”

  Her smile dropped and she pulled herself upright, twisting around in bed to stare at me seriously. “You know that’s not true, right, Astrid?” she said in a quiet v
oice. “You’re absolutely perfect just as you are. You can do anything.”

  I blushed furiously and looked down at my empty phone screen. I made a point of never talking about my weight with Hilary. She’d gotten really mad the first time I admitted that my dad had sent me to fat camp. It had been a little scary; she’d gotten this strange look on her face and then she’d actually had to go into another room and pray until she was calm enough to not call my dad right then and yell at him. Even though she looked like a porcelain doll she was actually tough as nails inside.

  “Wait here,” Hilary said suddenly, breaking my concentration. She leapt out of bed and swept out into the hall. In less than a minute she was back, this time with a stack of books in her hand. She piled them onto my bed before bouncing back to her own.

  “Here. You can do some studying tonight before we go to the barn tomorrow. My lesson’s right after church so we have to get up early. I’ve set my alarm.” She rolled over and crawled under the covers, her face already twisting into a yawn.

  “Night,” she added sleepily before burying herself in a pillow.

  “Okay.” I sighed, feeling slightly abandoned. As long as I kept busy talking or doing things I could keep my overwhelming sadness at bay. But as soon as I was on my own that sick, anxious feeling came rolling back in. I lay on my back, staring up at the beautiful ocean scene painted on the ceiling. Those smiling dolphins should have cheered up anyone; but tonight they just made me feel more depressed. I texted Miranda again.

  Hey, it’s me. Is your phone working? I guess you heard the news. Just rest, rest, rest for me this summer. I can’t believe I had such a stupid accident. It totally sucks missing the tournament.

  My word bubble popped up at the bottom of the screen and I stared at the phone, willing her to answer. Nothing.

  After a while I sighed and set the phone down on its face. I idly flipped through the books piled on my bed and wondered how my life had suddenly become so complicated.

  At least going to visit a horse barn tomorrow was better than being stuck in the condo with my enraged father. I would humour Hilary because she was my friend, but I was pretty sure that horses were not going to be my rebound sport. I loved archery too much to abandon it for prancing around on a large, stinky animal.

  Most of the books she’d handed me were just full of dry, boring text with tiny black and white pictures to look at, but finally I found one that was a little more interesting. I set the other books on the floor and pulled my covers up to my chin, shifting around until I found a position that wasn’t so agonizing to lie in. The book was titled “The Mighty Lipizzaner” and had a photo on the cover of a white horse standing right up on its hind legs; rider sitting motionless like a statue on top. The rider wore a weird, pointy hat and shiny boots and a coat like Elton John might wear. The horse was stunning, even to my unpracticed eye.

  “Wow,” I whispered, flipping pages. Was this really what Hilary did when she went to the stable? I knew she had a grey horse named Jerry, but she was involved in so many different activities that it was hard to keep track. I didn’t remember her saying anything about doing all this leaping and springing in the air, though. Surely she would have mentioned that.

  Levade, corbette, capriole. I thought sleepily, reading the captions under the photos of horses rearing on their hind legs and leaping. Sure, I can see myself doing that while I wait to heal.

  That night I didn’t dream about drowning. Instead, I was on a shining white horse galloping across a grassy plain. I had my bow in my hand and, for that moment, my heart was light.

  4

  I woke up before Hilary’s alarm went off to the pinging of my phone.

  Miranda! I lunged for it and turned off the volume before it could wake up Hilary. Eagerly, I peered down at the screen.

  Yes, it does totally suck…for the whole team. Your accident was definitely stupid.

  My heart plummeted. Maybe I was misreading her text, but she sounded like it was my fault the rope broke. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt; sometimes texts sounded harsh when they weren’t meant to be.

  I know, right? I guess the rope was just old. I missed you at the hospital. Good luck at the tournament.

  I waited a long time for an answer but finally gave up. She was probably getting psyched up for the competition. Unlike me, Miranda was a hard core athlete. After practice at the range she usually went to the gym to do cross-training on Saturday mornings and sometimes even after school. She was always working on sculpting different muscle groups to improve her form or working on her cardio. I knew it kind of bothered her that I’d come home with the gold at the BC Games when the only exercise I did was lift my bow while she knocked herself out with training and only got a silver.

  Still, she’d always been a good friend and teammate, and I felt sick that she was disappointed in me.

  “Good job, Hilary. Now, let’s ask him for one more lengthening down the long side. That’s it, sit deep and encourage him to work from his hind end. He needs to step upward into your gentle, supporting hand. Nice! Working trot and tell him he’s a superstar. That’s enough for today; we’re going to end it on a good note. Give him a pat and let him have a nice stretchy trot and then time to cool out. Great work, you two.”

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose to stop the throbbing headache that had taken up residence behind my eyes. Every part of my body ached; I was overdue for a pain pill, but I needed to find water to wash it down. Sitting for so long on hard bleachers was not the best thing for my battered body. And I’d already had to sit through the morning service at church that the Ahlberg’s had dragged me to. But at least those seats had been padded.

  Leaning my good elbow on the edge of the polished wooden railing, I tilted my head upward to study the glass chandeliers hanging from the high wood-beamed ceiling of the cavernous indoor arena. The bits of dangling glass danced in the low light, lighting the arena with a golden, otherworldly glow. Watching Hilary ride in circles was about as exciting as watching paint dry, but at least the arena we were in was something spectacular. Walking into it was like entering a cathedral; the air was a few degrees cooler than outside and even the air seemed heavy with hushed expectancy. I felt like it was disrespectful to talk above a whisper; like being in the big library downtown.

  Hilary, dressed in tight pants, tall boots, and looking like Ralph Lauren model, beamed at me from across the arena and I gave her a half-hearted thumbs-up. I’d sat through her lesson for the last forty-five minutes and it hadn’t been at all like in The Mighty Lipizzaner. Jerry, groomed until he shone like silver in the low light, had walked for a long time then done some prancing and then ran in circles until both he and Hilary were damp with sweat, but there had been none of the leaping and acrobatics I’d been hoping for. He was beautiful to watch, for the first five minutes, but after that I was bored and incredibly sore.

  Hilary’s coach, Claudia, stood in the middle of the ring, her knee-high black boots coated with dust. She was wearing the same type of tight pants as Hilary, only hers were black instead of cream. Tight pants were another reason to add to my list of why I did not want to ride horses.

  “Good job, Hilary, even though he’s relaxing he needs to stay in that rhythm,” Claudia said as Jerry trotted by; his neck stretching down and out, and his reins loose on his sweaty neck. Puffs of dust rose from his footfalls and Claudia took a wheezing breath before turning her head sharply and putting a hand over her mouth. An awful cough nearly doubled her in half and it sounded like she was gasping for air. The small chocolate coloured dog who’d been sitting at her feet the entire lesson looked up anxiously, standing to put its little front paws on her leg and letting out a few high-pitched yelps.

  “Are you okay, Claudia?” Hilary brought Jerry to a walk and watched her coach anxiously.

  “Just a tickle in my throat.” Claudia pulled upright and took a deep, wheezy breath. “Nothing to worry about.” She gave the dog a reassuring scratch on its head and s
miled weakly at Hilary.

  I couldn’t tell how old Claudia was, but she was beautiful in a majestic sort of way; you could easily imagine her being a queen back in the middle ages. Her long, silver hair was pulled back in a bun at the back of her head, she was slim and athletic, her body alive with coiled energy. As if she worked out every day and was just waiting to leap into cartwheels or run a marathon at a moment’s notice, just like Miranda. She gave Jerry a pat on the shoulder and strode from the arena toward the barn, the little dog following in her wake.

  “Wasn’t he amazing?” Hilary said, riding a puffing Jerry over to where I was sitting. “He’s really starting to be able to sit and use his hind effectively now. And did you see how he was really thinking about everything instead of just reacting?”

  “Um, yes?” I guessed just as Jerry shook his head and snorted, blowing horsey nose slime all over me, spattering my shirt and my arm sling with goo. “Oh my god, Hilary!” I squealed, lurching painfully to my feet. “Tell me he did not just DO that!”

  “Calm down.” She frowned. “Stop talking about God like that and stop jumping around. You’ll scare Jerry. The bathroom’s upstairs in the lounge; the door is just outside the arena to the right. Go get cleaned up and meet me back by his stall. Then we’ll talk to Claudia about lessons. You must be so excited to try it out.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Ecstatic.” Holding my dripping hand in front of me I limped out of the arena into the barn aisle and stomped up the stairs. The door opened to a large wood paneled room that almost looked like an apartment. Heavy leather couches were arranged in front of a huge picture window that overlooked the arena below.

  “Wow,” I whispered, pausing to admire the set-up. Then I remembered I was coated in slime and marched to the open bathroom door. It took me forever to make sure every last drop of horse spray was scrubbed off me and my sling, and that my clothes were free from any potentially embarrassing stains. My hands were shaking by the time I was done. I really needed to take a pain pill and fast.