“Sorry about that,” he says, shaking his head and running a hand over his hair. “Momma Rose sort of says whatever comes to mind.”

“That’s okay,” I tell him. “My nonny’s about the same.” Which is pretty much true, though Nonny mostly disapproves of Dad and me on general principles, while I’m not sure what Momma Rose was thinking when she looked at me.

I finally convince Devontae it’s no big deal, and he introduces me to Shuri, his horse, which smooths things out. I haven’t spent much time quite this close to a horse, and having her smooth gray-dappled side right at my eye line is a little intimidating, even with the fence rails between us. But then Shuri sticks her nose in my lap and slobbers my shirt, which Devontae says means we’re friends.

“Okay,” I finally say, getting back to why we’re here. “Project time?” We’re both solid B students, and I know for a fact he’d pick being out on some horse over doing homework any day—just like I’d sooner be popping ramps.

“Guess so.” Devontae pulls out some comb things and shows me how to brush Shuri’s shiny coat through the fence rails while we brainstorm. It’s slow and rhythmic and gives my hands something to do besides fidgeting on my wheels. The project isn’t hard, exactly, but it’s going to be a lot of work. We have to choose six real people who were—or are—in Mr. Milling’s word, groundbreakers. Then we have to make a whole presentation where we imagine them all having a conversation together—one that brings in important things about what makes each one of them groundbreaking and what challenges they had to face down along the way. As usual for Mr. Milling’s assignments, grades include “extra points for passion.”

“Trust Mr. Milling to bend our brains,” Devontae says, as we both toss out random ideas and he saves them in his phone. We get as far as Bill Pickett (Devontae), Danica Patrick (me), and Dr. Ron McNair (obvious, since he was hands down the most famous person from around here).

Then the conversation sort of naturally slides over to school news and gossip. Then we stop talking altogether, and the only sound is the shh-shh of the brushes through Shuri’s soft hair. It’s comfortable silence, but I can’t help wondering if I’m the only one feeling this tiny flutter whenever we’re around each other.

We finish combing Shuri’s coat and feed her some treats. Then we watch as she wanders back out to the paddock, swishing her long tail.

Ale has her older sisters and her aunties to ask about all this boy nonsense—and her mom. I wish I could ask my mom, too, because it sure is tough trying to figure it all out on my own.

To clear my head, I pop a few hops over the concrete stable floor. That turns into a full-on spin. I don’t stop whirling, around and around, until I’m dizzy.

When I finally stop, Devontae whistles. “I love how you work those wheels, Emmie,” he says. “You look like how I feel when I climb onto a bronc.”