“You two know each other!” Peter exclaimed. “Of course, you both go to Lincoln, right?”

“Right!” Lisa said. She had deglittered herself but now she turned on a full-wattage smile.

“Well then, you can show her around a bit after her lesson.”

“More than happy to. You know, I can tell she’s going to be good.” Rose was alert. She recognized this kind of behavior. Lisa had lapsed into sleeper bully mode. Make nice in front of the adults. “She’s got just the right . . .”

“Posture?” Peter said, walking away.

“That’s it. You always say if you have good posture off a horse, you’ll sit well in the saddle.”

“You run along, Lisa. Harry is waiting for you on the jump course with Miss Dimples. Rose, meet me right outside this barn. I’ll have Ivy waiting for you.”

“Miss Dimples. That’s your horse’s name?”

“Yes, sort of named after me. My mom’s idea because I have such deep dimples.”

She flashed another smile. I might barf, Rose thought.

What a stupid name for a horse—Miss Dimples. Rose was infinitely relieved that her horse had a simple name.

“Bye, girlfriend!” Lisa actually came up to Rose and high-fived her. Now the glint in her eye gleamed suspiciously. “Watch it!” she hissed. Rose flashed back her best stink eye. Keep this up, Rose thought, and I’ll be ready for the Olympic Stink Eye competition.

There was one good thing about her lessons. Her grandmother had bought her brand-new clothes for riding, and they were beautiful. Pale tan jodhpurs with leather patches on the inner leg to protect from rubbing against the saddle. A fitted darker tan jacket. She looked in a mirror. Pretty good, she thought. If only she didn’t have to ride! Always a fly in the ointment, as her mom used to say. “Oh, Mom,” she sighed as she went to find Peter, waiting for her with a dappled gray horse on a lead.

“This is Ivy, Rose—hey, how about that? Rose and Ivy. Sounds like a pub, you know, a bar in England. Doesn’t it?”

“I don’t drink, but maybe,” Rose replied. Peter laughed.

“Ivy here is technically a pony, because she is just fourteen hands tall. The first thing I’m going to show you is how to bridle Ivy. And here, give her a lump of sugar first, and she’ll be your friend forever. Hold your hand flat now and let her just lick it off your palm. That way Ivy won’t accidentally crunch your fingers.”

She held out her palm with the sugar. Ivy lapped it up. Rose liked the rough feel of her tongue, warm and just slightly scratchy.

“Now this is the bridle that I’m holding.” He began to give a few quick pointers in the basics of bridling a horse. Rose took the bridle from him and gave it a try.