Loretta is missing.
And I am supposed to care because why?
Oh fine. She went out riding on the track and never returned. Tan claimed she couldn’t look for her because the other Bobcat Club girls were all out doing it and someone needed to mind the paddock. Uh huh, sure. I don’t think Tan likes Loretta that much either.
Tan pointed out in the direction that Loretta left and I went to check it out. And Tan had the right to be concerned. There was a huge rock slide. And it was awesome. It wouldn’t be awesome if Loretta was underneath it. But it blocked off the entire road and those boulders were huge. I mean, it would have been cool to see it come down! But, not cool if Loretta was there in the middle of it. I don’t like the girl. No one deserves to be crushed by rocks. No one. The construction worker has the gall to be hungry, but not enough gumption to do anything about the rock slide. He claimed it was on the orders of Mr. Kemball that he couldn’t leave the rockslide. All the construction guy cares about is his food. What about people who actually have to use the road?
I’m getting an inkling of how my summer is going to go.
This Mr. Kemball character seems a bit skeevy. It was a rock slide. How hard it is to do more than send one guy to warn people away? It seems it is past time I checked out this Mr. Kemball for myself. Now, if my sixth sense about horses only extended to people.
The construction site was easy to find, under the huge sign for the ugly condos he plans on building over the stable. I am against them on aesthetic principals alone. Did he not hire a good architect? Could he not think of line and proportion and beauty? Just, they were ugly, take my word for it.
Mr. Kemball called me cute and little.
That’s it. He’s going to pay. If I have to sabotage his machines by wrenching all the bolts out. I’ll do it. No one, and I mean, no one calls me cute and little and lives to tell about it.
He’s going to burn the stables down and make lots of money off the ugly houses. If he has so much money now, the houses wouldn’t be so ugly in concept. But, for the moment, I wasn’t there about the stables. The road is a bit more important.
Turns out he was only willing to clear the road because to not do otherwise would be inconvenient. He insisted that because I looked poor. Shows what he knows. That I had to do something for him first. So, I marked some perfectly healthy looking trees to be knocked down for his buildings and equipment. Now, all I have to do is work fast enough that he doesn’t have a chance to cut them down. Let him think he’s winning. I will have the last laugh.
Of course by the time I was done, he claimed that I did it for nothing and a bulldozer had been on its way before I asked. I just don’t think he wanted to get off looking like he did someone a favor. Cheap bastard. And he had the gall to offer me a job? After he called me short and cute? He can rot in hell for all I care. I like the trees the way they are. I should have had Heart leave something on his shoes. She doesn’t like him either. I bet he smells.
And then Mr. Kemball called me girlie and claimed that I was helping him destroy the stables.
I marked four trees and he calls that helping. That, diary, is laughable.
What, the fuck, ever, Mr. Kemball. Laugh now. I will have my revenge.
So, I went back to Tan to give her the news. Even she thinks Mr. Kemball is a dirt bag. And trust? Who said anything about trusting the guy? Come on. I wanted to see what he was like and I sure found out, the easy way. There is nothing like going with someone and then giving them enough rope to hang themselves with. Seriously, Tan needs to learn her manipulation and spy craft. You go with them, and then you knock them off balance. No wonder Mr. Moorland doesn’t trust them with helping save the Stable. They’re far too straight forward and goody two shoes. You need to be a bit more sneaky to take bad guys down.
Mr. Kemball is such a cartoon villain it’s laughable. All he needs is a mustache to twirl.
But Tan is still worried about Loretta. Bless her.
And when I did find Loretta. Loretta didn’t even care that everyone was so concerned. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Self centered little bitch. I wanted to throttle her. Why are these girls friends with her? She is such a queen bee. It is disgusting. I mean. It is straight out of mean girls. At least she said thanks. She tried for like ten seconds to be nice and then it was right back to being a bitch. Really. Greatest rider in the world. If I wasn’t so well versed in reverse psychology, I’d go after all the prizes just to rub her nose in it. As it is, whatever, Loretta.
But, hey they let me try their other track and the more Tan talks, sometimes the less I like her. I do not want to be a Bobcat Girl. I don’t need to be a Bobcat Girl. And all this talk of first and second best so rankles of middle school. Get over it already people!
Anyways, something had been bugging me while riding around. I kept hearing this ringing banging noise in the woods near the stables. So, when I went to check it out, turns out that is where the blacksmith is. His name is Conrad. Figures there has to be a blacksmith near the stables. Someone has to take care of Heart’s shoes. Heart seemed to like him too, whuffled and everything.
But apparently you can’t just go say hello to someone without them giving you something to do. He’d lost his tools. Well, he hadn’t lost his tools, but his assistant Patrick had lost a shipment of tools because well, probably Loretta. Those Bobcat girls must think they own the road or something. Anyways, his assistant Patrick refuses to look for them and well, what is a girl to do. I showed up. And isn’t it a thing to be on good terms with your blacksmith? Plus, Heart’s head was up and eager to go.
So go we went. His tools weren’t that hard to find. They weren’t where he said they’d be, but I just asked someone which direction the Jorvik Stables were and they pointed out the way. Conrad was appreciative, unlike some people. Heart mouthed a few of them. Hope he doesn’t mind.
By this point it was getting late, and Heart was tired too. She kept looking at me as if asking if we were done. And I didn’t have the heart, oh pun, to tell her no. So, we went back to the stable. Justin better have some good ideas about his Grandfather tomorrow.
I didn’t notice the sign of my room before. Apparently, I’ve been assigned the Mountain Song room. That is kind of poetic, not that I know what it means. But while I was brushing my teeth, my roommate came back. She looked just as bushed as I was. It was kind of awkward being there with my toothbrush in my mouth. I couldn’t talk until I spat and rinsed and yeah.
Anyways, my roommate is Genevieve Mistbard. She seems a bit stuffy. She was dressed in this dressage outfit. She introduced herself as Misty though. That seems like a cool name. When I told her my name was Nightberg. She got a funny look on her face.
I thought my last name meant Night Town, turns out it means Night Mountain. And her last name is Mistbard, a bard being a type of musician. So, we’ve got a mountain at night, shrouded in mist with music. Poetic. Thus, I guess that is where the name of the room came from. Kind of cool.
We were both so tired that we didn’t have the energy to talk. I hope she’s going to be an okay roomie.
And after all of this, I still hadn’t made my bed. And couldn’t until I got the pile of whatever it was off the end of it. I picked it up and it was clothes. Do they really expect me to wear this! I was trying not to hyperventilate! There is this horrid, horrid orange t-shirt. And the pants are brown. The gloves are fingerless but they are this dirty grey color. And, if they force me to wear this, I’m hiding it under my jacket. At least the helmet and the boots are black. Just, my soul is shriveling up into a curdled mass of do not want! Black, what is wrong with black? It doesn’t make my eyes bleed! I put the clothes in the dresser so fast with that new green jacket that I almost squashed my fingers.
But at least, I got my bed made with my black sheets with purple trim and aqua piping. Nice, soothing colors. When I rolled into bed, I fell asleep so fast, that I don’t even remember hitting the lights. I hope Misty gets them.
3000 SC, 437 JS
Have a question you want to ask Savvy about her experiences in Moorland or before? Ask at Ask Mountain Song on tumblr.