into the barley bag and dumped a whole scoopful into the batch of feed they were working on.
Carole opened her mouth to protest, since that batch already had its full share of barley. But before she could, Stevie leaped to her feet.
“Hey!” Stevie shouted. “Did you hear that? I think it’s your mom’s car horn, Veronica. You’d better go check it out.”
Veronica scowled. “You’re hearing things, Stevie,” she said. “I didn’t hear a horn. Besides, I’m not getting picked up until later.”
“I didn’t hear anything, either,” Tate put in. He dumped another scoopful of barley into the mix. “So anyway, Veronica, I heard you guys were working on the pirouette in your Pony Club meeting today. That’s a fourth-level dressage move, you know. Some of the other moves added at the fourth level are …”
As Tate continued to talk, Carole was really getting annoyed. It was obvious that Tate wasn’t paying attentionto what he was doing. He was totally messing up the grain mix. He should know better. So should Stevie, for that matter. But she had dropped her scoop and was staring at Veronica with a determined look on her face.
“No, really,” Stevie said loudly, interrupting Tate’s monologue on the stages of dressage competition. “I’m sure I heard something. You’d better go check.” She took a step toward the door to illustrate her point. Her foot hit the edge of an open bag of flaked corn, tipping it.
Carole leaped forward to catch it, but her own foot caught the edge of the metal bin they were using to mix the feed and sent her sprawling. The bin teetered for a second, then crashed to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Meanwhile, the bag of corn had fallen, too—landing right on Carole and covering her with dry yellow flakes.
“Oops,” Stevie said with a weak grin.
Veronica stood up and gave the other two girls a disgusted look. “Nice going,” she said snottily. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”
Carole gritted her teeth and sat up, brushing corn flakes out of her hair. Stevie was staring at Veronica, speechless with fury.
Veronica didn’t notice. She was reaching down to help Tate to his feet and smiling at him sweetly. “Come on, Tate,” she said. “We’d better get out of their way so they can clean up after themselves.”
Tate looked uncertain, but he shrugged and followed Veronica to the door. “Let me know if you need any more help later,” he told Carole and Stevie as he left the shed.
“W HOA !” M ARGUERITE CALLED with a laugh, pulling up on the reins. “Amber’s really feeling her oats today!”
Lisa smiled weakly as she urged Tiny into a lumbering trot, trying to catch up to the other pair. They were riding down a wide, pleasant trail in the woods behind Fox Crest Farms. Amber was prancing along in the lead, clearly tired of walking and trotting. Tiny was doing her best to keep up. Lisa was appreciating the big mare’s personality more and more with every step she took. Tiny was a little slow, but she wasn’t as lazy as Lisa had first thought. She was eager to please, and her constant snorting, snuffling, and whinnying were kind of cute. It sounded as if she were talking to herself.
Still, when Lisa glanced forward at Marguerite, she couldn’t help feeling a little envious. Amber was so beautiful and spirited. Why couldn’t Marguerite have gotten her a talented horse like that? It would have made this whole afternoon—including Marguerite’s self-centered prattle—a lot easier to take.
Lisa glanced up at the sky. The clouds were still there, and they seemed to be darkening. She opened her mouth to say something about the weather, but Marguerite spoke first.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said brightly. “The trail looks pretty flat up there. Let’s gallop!”
“What?” For a second Lisa was sure that Marguerite had to be joking. The trail
was
flat up ahead of them. But it was also winding, lined with stray branches, and littered with
Carole opened her mouth to protest, since that batch already had its full share of barley. But before she could, Stevie leaped to her feet.
“Hey!” Stevie shouted. “Did you hear that? I think it’s your mom’s car horn, Veronica. You’d better go check it out.”
Veronica scowled. “You’re hearing things, Stevie,” she said. “I didn’t hear a horn. Besides, I’m not getting picked up until later.”
“I didn’t hear anything, either,” Tate put in. He dumped another scoopful of barley into the mix. “So anyway, Veronica, I heard you guys were working on the pirouette in your Pony Club meeting today. That’s a fourth-level dressage move, you know. Some of the other moves added at the fourth level are …”
As Tate continued to talk, Carole was really getting annoyed. It was obvious that Tate wasn’t paying attentionto what he was doing. He was totally messing up the grain mix. He should know better. So should Stevie, for that matter. But she had dropped her scoop and was staring at Veronica with a determined look on her face.
“No, really,” Stevie said loudly, interrupting Tate’s monologue on the stages of dressage competition. “I’m sure I heard something. You’d better go check.” She took a step toward the door to illustrate her point. Her foot hit the edge of an open bag of flaked corn, tipping it.
Carole leaped forward to catch it, but her own foot caught the edge of the metal bin they were using to mix the feed and sent her sprawling. The bin teetered for a second, then crashed to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Meanwhile, the bag of corn had fallen, too—landing right on Carole and covering her with dry yellow flakes.
“Oops,” Stevie said with a weak grin.
Veronica stood up and gave the other two girls a disgusted look. “Nice going,” she said snottily. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”
Carole gritted her teeth and sat up, brushing corn flakes out of her hair. Stevie was staring at Veronica, speechless with fury.
Veronica didn’t notice. She was reaching down to help Tate to his feet and smiling at him sweetly. “Come on, Tate,” she said. “We’d better get out of their way so they can clean up after themselves.”
Tate looked uncertain, but he shrugged and followed Veronica to the door. “Let me know if you need any more help later,” he told Carole and Stevie as he left the shed.
“W HOA !” M ARGUERITE CALLED with a laugh, pulling up on the reins. “Amber’s really feeling her oats today!”
Lisa smiled weakly as she urged Tiny into a lumbering trot, trying to catch up to the other pair. They were riding down a wide, pleasant trail in the woods behind Fox Crest Farms. Amber was prancing along in the lead, clearly tired of walking and trotting. Tiny was doing her best to keep up. Lisa was appreciating the big mare’s personality more and more with every step she took. Tiny was a little slow, but she wasn’t as lazy as Lisa had first thought. She was eager to please, and her constant snorting, snuffling, and whinnying were kind of cute. It sounded as if she were talking to herself.
Still, when Lisa glanced forward at Marguerite, she couldn’t help feeling a little envious. Amber was so beautiful and spirited. Why couldn’t Marguerite have gotten her a talented horse like that? It would have made this whole afternoon—including Marguerite’s self-centered prattle—a lot easier to take.
Lisa glanced up at the sky. The clouds were still there, and they seemed to be darkening. She opened her mouth to say something about the weather, but Marguerite spoke first.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said brightly. “The trail looks pretty flat up there. Let’s gallop!”
“What?” For a second Lisa was sure that Marguerite had to be joking. The trail
was
flat up ahead of them. But it was also winding, lined with stray branches, and littered with
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