City Secrets Read Online Free

room.
    â€œSo you obviously took the deal and started riding,” I said.
    Heather and I gazed at the balcony as a pigeon flew up to the rail and perched there. The fat gray bird didn’t even look at us.
    â€œIt was worth it.” Heather paused and played with her ponytail.
    I felt as though I had to say
something
. Something to assure her that she could trust me.
    â€œI’m not going to tell anyone about this,” I said. “You know I won’t.”
    Heather stared at me. “I know you won’t ’cause you’d be afraid for your life if you did.” She smiled sweetly at me.
    I laughed. “Exactly.” And yeah, that was kind of true.
    Heather got up and walked over to the cabinet near her desk. She opened the doors and revealed a violet mini-fridge. She grabbed two Cokes and handed me one.
    â€œThanks.”
    We took a few sips and Heather set down her can. “I really only wanted to ride for fun. It was one hour every week that I had to myself. I rode this suuuuper old Appaloosa gelding and got basic lessons so the stable owner would let me go on group trail rides.”
    I grinned. “I love that image. Was he able to trot at least?”
    â€œShut up,” Heather said, but she laughed. “He could trot—so there. Anyway, after a few weeks the instructor called my parents and told them she thought I had natural talent for riding and she wondered if I was interested in trying one-on-one lessons and seeing how that would go.”
    â€œWas your dad immediately like, ‘No way’?” I asked, sipping my Coke.
    â€œHe said no at first, but I guess my instructor told him I might have the potential to be a good rider.”
    I nodded. “That was all he needed to hear, right?”
    Heather took a long drink. “Yep. I started taking lessons a couple of times a week, entered my first show, and won. I loved gymnastics, but it became really obvious that I was a better rider, even in a short amount of time, than I was a gymnast.”
    â€œSo did you try to juggle both?”
    Heather shook her head. “I couldn’t. It was too many hours at the gym and the stable and with school . . . it was too much. I quit gymnastics and started riding full-time.”
    â€œDid you miss it? Did your dad care that you quit?” All of this was new to me, and I had so many questions.
    â€œOmigod, you’re, like, Oprah right now,” Heather said. She tilted her head at me. “I missed it for a while, but I fell in love with riding. And my dad really didn’t care what I did—as long as I was the best at it. And I guess I’m like him—’cause I wanted to be the best. And riding was it for me.”
    That was Heather Fox. The cutthroat, win-at-all-costs girl who knew how to excel at whatever she did. I enviedthat about her sometimes—not the way she handled some competitions or the way she treated a lot of people, but her confidence.
    â€œGross,” Heather said, getting up. “
That
was, like, a lame Lifetime movie. Go unpack your . . . ‘clothes,’ get ready for dinner, and come back. I’ll tell you all you need to know for dinner with the Foxes.”

 4 
TRAPPED IN THE FOX DEN
    I GRABBED MY MAKEUP CASE, FLAT IRON, and Heather’s dress and tiptoed down the hallway to the guest bathroom. When I clicked the lock, the tightness in my chest eased a little. I hadn’t wanted another run-in with Mrs. Fox so soon. I sat at the edge of the claw-foot bathtub, sighing and looking at the bathroom’s decor. There were cream-colored hand towels that looked too expensive to use, a dish of tiny soaps that
definitely
had to be for decoration, and a glass cabinet filled with bath towels. Beside the cabinet, a wicker basket overflowed with body wash, shampoo, and conditioner with French names that I couldn’t even begin to pronounce.
    For a second I wished Paige were here. She’d know what to