Issie and the Christmas Pony by Stacy Gregg

about how miserable she’d been since losing Mystic at the auction, and how even the thought of Christmas couldn’t cheer her up. She figured she was in for one of Avery’s pep talks now, and she wanted to point out to him that her mum had already tried that and it hadn’t worked. How could she explain to Tom that she was too heartbroken over Mystic to talk about it any more? That she instinctively knew he was meant to be her pony and that she had let him down terribly.
    She needn’t have worried, though, because as it turned out, Avery didn’t appear to be interested in cheering her up after all. “I just wanted to ask…” Avery paused, “…erm…what size are you?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean what size clothes do you take? Are you a small? Medium? I’m not very good at guessing these things-I suppose I should have just asked your mum. I hope it’s not embarrassing to…”
    â€œIt’s fine,” Issie said flatly, then she added, “I’m a medium.”
    â€œExcellent!” said Avery. He looked at his watch. “Well, I have some things to do. I’d better be off. See you tomorrow in time for present-opening!”
    And with that, Avery left. Issie was stunned. She had always thought Tom Avery was just like her, that he felt as passionately about horses as she did. Surely he must have understood how unbearably awful it had been watching the grey pony being taken away by Christie. But if he did, he certainly wasn’t showing it. Her instructor was bright and breezy and acting as if the disaster at the auction had never happened.
    â€œWhy did you ask him round for Christmas?” Issie grumbled to her mum over dinner that night.
    â€œTom is new to town, Issie. He hasn’t had time to make many friends yet and he doesn’t have any family here,” said Mrs Brown. “Besides, I thought you’d like it if he came over. I know this has been atough week. I figured it would cheer you up to have someone else here.”
    A tough week? Tough? It had been the worst week ever! Issie couldn’t believe that her mum and Avery didn’t get what she was going through. She sank deeper into depression and deeper into the sofa, and spent the rest of Christmas Eve back in her pyjamas watching even more rubbish TV. Normally on the night before Christmas she stayed up as late as she could, trying to make it until midnight so that it would officially be Christmas Day and she could open her presents. But even that prospect didn’t hold its usual thrill this year. The week’s events had drained her emotional batteries.
    â€œI’m going to bed,” she told her mum finally at nine o’clock.
    â€œReally?” Mrs Brown was puzzled. “But it’s so early.”
    â€œI know,” Issie said. “I’m just really tired.”
    â€œOK,” her mum smiled. Issie was about to walk out of the door when she added, “Sweetie, I know that this Christmas hasn’t been what you were hoping for, but you have to have a little faith, OK?”
    Faith? Issie couldn’t believe it. At this rate, her mum would be telling her to ask Santa for a pony!
    This is definitely the worst Christmas ever , Issie thought as she lay on her bed. She stared at the walls around her. They were covered from floor to ceiling with pictures of ponies. Most young girls had posters of pop bands on their walls, but Issie had spent years collecting copies of PONY Magazine and pulling out the posters, plastering her wall with horses of all shapes, sizes and colours. Her favourite picture was the one just above her bed end. It was a grey pony cantering through a field of bright red poppies. The pony in the picture looked a bit like Mystic, Issie thought. A dapple-grey with coal-black eyes and a flowing mane and tail.
    She wondered where Mystic was right now. Then a shiver ran down her spine as she imagined the