funny-bone-itis, if that’s what you mean. Thanks, Max.” Stevie shut the office door.
“Funny-bone-itis?” Carole asked as they walked toward the tack room.
“Inflammation of the funny bone,” Lisa answered.
Stevie nodded. “It causes excessive prank-playing. I took a rest cure.”
“Meaning she was grounded, so she got over it,” Lisa explained.
Stevie just grinned. Mrs. Reg was indeed in the tack room, and when she saw the three girls, her face lit up in a somewhat secretive smile.
“I’m so relieved that your horse is feeling better,Stevie,” she said before they could ask her anything. “Tell me, has she developed a taste for coffee yet?”
Lisa and Carole snorted, but Stevie was confused. “No,” she said. “Why would she?”
“That’s good,” Mrs. Reg said. “I was worried that she might start liking it.”
Carole and Lisa exchanged glances and began to giggle. So Mrs. Reg knew about the coffee, too! “Mrs. Reg,” Carole said, “why did you—”
Mrs. Reg held up her hand to stop her. “You think you’ve got problems,” she said to Stevie in a serious voice. “I had four of them.”
The three girls looked at each other, then back at Mrs. Reg.
Four cups of coffee?
Carole thought.
“Four what?” asked Stevie.
Mrs. Reg frowned as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Brothers,” she said. She nodded to them and walked away.
“You know,” Stevie said as they watched her go, “the longer I know Mrs. Reg, the less I understand her.”
“I don’t think it matters if we understand her,” Lisa said. “Poor, sick Belle!”
S TEVIE HAD ONE of the best trail rides of her entire life. She had never truly appreciated her wonderful horse, she thought, until she’d been forced away from her. Ridingalongside Carole and Lisa in the warm summer sunshine, cantering through green woods, splashing through crystal streams—these were the best things in life. Stevie resolved to remember this the next time she felt like dismembering Chad.
After the ride she spent a long time grooming Belle and fussing over her. At last even Lisa and Carole were ready to leave. Stevie stayed another half hour, lovingly cleaning her tack. In the end she had to run home so that she wouldn’t be late for dinner. Stevie didn’t need any black marks on her newly cleaned slate.
“Belle’s fine,” she announced when they had finished saying grace and were passing the food around. “She seems entirely okay. I even rode her for a little while.”
“Oh, good,” Chad said with a sigh of relief. “I know she looked much better when I saw her.”
Stevie’s other brothers, Michael and Alex, told her how happy they were that Belle was okay. To Stevie’s surprise, her parents just smiled. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t act worried about Belle at all. Stevie knew they didn’t love Belle the way she did, but on the other hand, they paid the vet bills. “I don’t think we’ll need to call Judy again,” Stevie assured her father.
“That’s nice,” he said. “Please pass the sliced tomatoes, Stevie.”
G
eez
, Stevie thought as she passed the tomatoes,
a
person’s horse could die around here and everyone would just keep eating.
She looked sideways at Chad. He was a cretin, but at least he had feelings.
After supper Stevie loaded the dishwasher while Alex cleared the table. Upstairs she could hear the light
bop
-
pop
noises that meant Chad was dribbling his soccer ball around his room. When she was finished in the kitchen she went up to see him.
Outside his door she paused. Chad had long ago plastered the entire thing with his bumper sticker collection, but right in the center was a brand-new sign in his handwriting: S. S. C. G. S. O .! Stevie had no trouble interpreting most of it: “Something Saddle Club Girls Stay Out!” She pushed the door open without knocking. “Does the first
S
stand for
slimy
or
stupid
?” she asked.
Chad stopped dribbling. “
Scurrilous
,” he
“Funny-bone-itis?” Carole asked as they walked toward the tack room.
“Inflammation of the funny bone,” Lisa answered.
Stevie nodded. “It causes excessive prank-playing. I took a rest cure.”
“Meaning she was grounded, so she got over it,” Lisa explained.
Stevie just grinned. Mrs. Reg was indeed in the tack room, and when she saw the three girls, her face lit up in a somewhat secretive smile.
“I’m so relieved that your horse is feeling better,Stevie,” she said before they could ask her anything. “Tell me, has she developed a taste for coffee yet?”
Lisa and Carole snorted, but Stevie was confused. “No,” she said. “Why would she?”
“That’s good,” Mrs. Reg said. “I was worried that she might start liking it.”
Carole and Lisa exchanged glances and began to giggle. So Mrs. Reg knew about the coffee, too! “Mrs. Reg,” Carole said, “why did you—”
Mrs. Reg held up her hand to stop her. “You think you’ve got problems,” she said to Stevie in a serious voice. “I had four of them.”
The three girls looked at each other, then back at Mrs. Reg.
Four cups of coffee?
Carole thought.
“Four what?” asked Stevie.
Mrs. Reg frowned as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Brothers,” she said. She nodded to them and walked away.
“You know,” Stevie said as they watched her go, “the longer I know Mrs. Reg, the less I understand her.”
“I don’t think it matters if we understand her,” Lisa said. “Poor, sick Belle!”
S TEVIE HAD ONE of the best trail rides of her entire life. She had never truly appreciated her wonderful horse, she thought, until she’d been forced away from her. Ridingalongside Carole and Lisa in the warm summer sunshine, cantering through green woods, splashing through crystal streams—these were the best things in life. Stevie resolved to remember this the next time she felt like dismembering Chad.
After the ride she spent a long time grooming Belle and fussing over her. At last even Lisa and Carole were ready to leave. Stevie stayed another half hour, lovingly cleaning her tack. In the end she had to run home so that she wouldn’t be late for dinner. Stevie didn’t need any black marks on her newly cleaned slate.
“Belle’s fine,” she announced when they had finished saying grace and were passing the food around. “She seems entirely okay. I even rode her for a little while.”
“Oh, good,” Chad said with a sigh of relief. “I know she looked much better when I saw her.”
Stevie’s other brothers, Michael and Alex, told her how happy they were that Belle was okay. To Stevie’s surprise, her parents just smiled. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t act worried about Belle at all. Stevie knew they didn’t love Belle the way she did, but on the other hand, they paid the vet bills. “I don’t think we’ll need to call Judy again,” Stevie assured her father.
“That’s nice,” he said. “Please pass the sliced tomatoes, Stevie.”
G
eez
, Stevie thought as she passed the tomatoes,
a
person’s horse could die around here and everyone would just keep eating.
She looked sideways at Chad. He was a cretin, but at least he had feelings.
After supper Stevie loaded the dishwasher while Alex cleared the table. Upstairs she could hear the light
bop
-
pop
noises that meant Chad was dribbling his soccer ball around his room. When she was finished in the kitchen she went up to see him.
Outside his door she paused. Chad had long ago plastered the entire thing with his bumper sticker collection, but right in the center was a brand-new sign in his handwriting: S. S. C. G. S. O .! Stevie had no trouble interpreting most of it: “Something Saddle Club Girls Stay Out!” She pushed the door open without knocking. “Does the first
S
stand for
slimy
or
stupid
?” she asked.
Chad stopped dribbling. “
Scurrilous
,” he
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