don’t want any of you forgetting this again: You have to tell me when you’re having problems with your horses. Even Belle and Starlight. Red and I are always here to help you, but we can’t solve problems when we don’t know they exist. Okay?”
“Okay,” agreed The Saddle Club.
“I’m to blame, too,” said Max. “I should have supervised you a little more closely, Lisa. I also realize that Milky’s problems were beyond your experience. You can’t be expected to deal with something you’ve never even heard about before. But part of this is your fault. You should have told me, and I am going to have to punish you.”
“Okay.” Lisa bowed her head. She knew she deserved something, but she hoped Max wasn’t going to expel her from the barn for the semester. She hoped he didn’t say she could never ride Prancer again.
“You’re grounded for a week,” Max said. “No riding. I’ll still expect you here for your lesson and for Pony Club, but you won’t ride. You’ll stand on the sidelines and watch and learn. Next Friday you can ride again.”
Lisa knew that he was being more than fair. She tried to smile at him, but the smile wavered a little. Max smiled back. “Get out of here,” he told them, waving his hand toward the door. “Go groom your horses. The lecture’s over.”
“Am I still allowed to groom?” Lisa asked.
Max laughed. “Yes. You’re also allowed to clean tack and muck stalls.”
“W ELL ,” S TEVIE SAID as they headed for the tack room, “that really wasn’t so bad. I mean, I know it stinks for you, Lisa, but—”
“But it could have been a lot worse,” Lisa agreed. “No, I think Max is being fair. I still have the worst part left tocome, though.” She sat down on a tack trunk and leaned against the wall.
Carole sat down next to her. “He’s definitely not your dream horse, is he?” she said sympathetically.
“Nope,” said Lisa. “And now I’ve got to go home and explain to my parents that I don’t want Milky.”
“M OM ?” L ISA CROSSED the living room nervously and stood in front of her parents, wringing her hands. “Dad? Can I talk to you about something? It’s important.”
Her parents looked at each other. Lisa’s father put down the book he was reading. Her mother clicked off the television. “Of course, dear.” Her mother patted the empty sofa cushion beside her. “Come, sit down.”
Lisa sat. She was glad she had the chance to speak to both her parents at once, and glad they were both listening, but she still didn’t feel very comfortable. “Keep it simple,” Carole had said. Lisa knew that was good advice: Her parents didn’t understand horses. They would never really understand Milky, and Lisa didn’t want to scare them away from buying her a different horse.
“Milky and I just aren’t getting along,” she began.
Lisa’s mother looked puzzled. “You’re not?”
“No,” Lisa said. “He’s just—His personality is—He’s really very difficult. I’ve been trying hard and spending a lot of time with him this week, but we’re really not developing a good relationship. In fact, I’m not sure I could say we’ve developed any relationship at all.”
Mr. Atwood nodded. He looked serious. “No relationship,” he said. “I see. And … this is a problem?”
“Well, of course,” Lisa said. “It’s essential. I mean, how could we be together otherwise? But he doesn’t want to try. He doesn’t want to do what I ask him to do.”
Her parents exchanged glances. “Maybe you’re expecting too much of him,” Mrs. Atwood suggested. “Did you really spend the whole week together?”
“Well, of course,” Lisa said. “I felt like I had to.”
“I don’t think you should be telling him what to do,” Mrs. Atwood said.
“At your age,” cut in Mr. Atwood. “No need to rush.”
“Maybe you’re moving too fast,” suggested Mrs. Atwood.
“Max doesn’t think so,” said Lisa.
Mrs. Atwood looked startled.
“Okay,” agreed The Saddle Club.
“I’m to blame, too,” said Max. “I should have supervised you a little more closely, Lisa. I also realize that Milky’s problems were beyond your experience. You can’t be expected to deal with something you’ve never even heard about before. But part of this is your fault. You should have told me, and I am going to have to punish you.”
“Okay.” Lisa bowed her head. She knew she deserved something, but she hoped Max wasn’t going to expel her from the barn for the semester. She hoped he didn’t say she could never ride Prancer again.
“You’re grounded for a week,” Max said. “No riding. I’ll still expect you here for your lesson and for Pony Club, but you won’t ride. You’ll stand on the sidelines and watch and learn. Next Friday you can ride again.”
Lisa knew that he was being more than fair. She tried to smile at him, but the smile wavered a little. Max smiled back. “Get out of here,” he told them, waving his hand toward the door. “Go groom your horses. The lecture’s over.”
“Am I still allowed to groom?” Lisa asked.
Max laughed. “Yes. You’re also allowed to clean tack and muck stalls.”
“W ELL ,” S TEVIE SAID as they headed for the tack room, “that really wasn’t so bad. I mean, I know it stinks for you, Lisa, but—”
“But it could have been a lot worse,” Lisa agreed. “No, I think Max is being fair. I still have the worst part left tocome, though.” She sat down on a tack trunk and leaned against the wall.
Carole sat down next to her. “He’s definitely not your dream horse, is he?” she said sympathetically.
“Nope,” said Lisa. “And now I’ve got to go home and explain to my parents that I don’t want Milky.”
“M OM ?” L ISA CROSSED the living room nervously and stood in front of her parents, wringing her hands. “Dad? Can I talk to you about something? It’s important.”
Her parents looked at each other. Lisa’s father put down the book he was reading. Her mother clicked off the television. “Of course, dear.” Her mother patted the empty sofa cushion beside her. “Come, sit down.”
Lisa sat. She was glad she had the chance to speak to both her parents at once, and glad they were both listening, but she still didn’t feel very comfortable. “Keep it simple,” Carole had said. Lisa knew that was good advice: Her parents didn’t understand horses. They would never really understand Milky, and Lisa didn’t want to scare them away from buying her a different horse.
“Milky and I just aren’t getting along,” she began.
Lisa’s mother looked puzzled. “You’re not?”
“No,” Lisa said. “He’s just—His personality is—He’s really very difficult. I’ve been trying hard and spending a lot of time with him this week, but we’re really not developing a good relationship. In fact, I’m not sure I could say we’ve developed any relationship at all.”
Mr. Atwood nodded. He looked serious. “No relationship,” he said. “I see. And … this is a problem?”
“Well, of course,” Lisa said. “It’s essential. I mean, how could we be together otherwise? But he doesn’t want to try. He doesn’t want to do what I ask him to do.”
Her parents exchanged glances. “Maybe you’re expecting too much of him,” Mrs. Atwood suggested. “Did you really spend the whole week together?”
“Well, of course,” Lisa said. “I felt like I had to.”
“I don’t think you should be telling him what to do,” Mrs. Atwood said.
“At your age,” cut in Mr. Atwood. “No need to rush.”
“Maybe you’re moving too fast,” suggested Mrs. Atwood.
“Max doesn’t think so,” said Lisa.
Mrs. Atwood looked startled.
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