Rough Magic. Lara Prior-Palmer
English competitor is visibly still at the toilet when I scribble my signature on the sign-out sheet. When a journalist publishes an article online about my attempt at the race, she writes it in my first-person voice, using tenuous quotes like If someone is injured or in trouble of course I’ll stop, but I don’t plan to wait for anyone who can’t find their gloves. It makes me sound ruthless. I mean, it’s true I don’t wait for the English competitor, but she will find others to ride with—many at this urtuu are stagnant in the midday sun, still awaiting their horses’ recoveries.
My other option is to hang around and continue alone in last position to satisfy the part of me that likes being slow and disaster-ridden. Aunt Lucinda still enters some competitions, but with a less good horse than those she used to ride, and never for a placing or a prize.
“Are you sure you want to compete at Blenheim to be bottom?” her half sister Karol asked her this year.
“Well, someone has to be bottom,” she replied.
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