Me: I need you to pick a lock for me. It’s on a book. And what????????? Why is he teaching??? He’s our age!! How is that OK???

Olivia: His dad told him he’d give him a shot at teaching after he turned thirteen. You know Mr. R will be watching Max like a hawk.

Olivia: I can pick it

Olivia: Bring it today.

Olivia: See you later

With Max teaching my riding class, the day promises to stink more than manure. What if he says something about what happened at the mall? Will he make fun of Gram in front of everyone? I rub the ache between my ribs harder than necessary.

I put on my riding clothes and stare at the book. Its dark cover is old with cracks burrowed deep into the leather. What secrets does it hold? I tuck it into my backpack and jog down the stairs to see if Gram’s ready to take me to the stables.

I find Gram sitting on the couch staring blankly at the wall. I walk closer, careful not to startle her.

“Are you ready?” I ask softly.

She blinks as if to bring me into focus, and I can tell she’s trying to work out what we’re supposed to be doing. I push down on my chest and breathe past the building pressure. “You’re going to drive me to the stables. Do you want me to get Clay?”

“Lulu,” she says slowly. A light turns back on. “Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. Yes, can you fetch the little guy? I’ll get a snack for him.”

I make sure she reaches the kitchen before I run up to get Clay. I carry him downstairs and buckle him into his car seat. Gram smiles at me as she starts the van; the blank look of a few minutes ago is gone, but the pain in my chest is still there.

I think about the book in my backpack, its secrets locked up tight. Like Gram’s memories, waiting for me to break them free.

6. Gone with the Cerebellum

The word “cerebellum” sounds like one of those big Southern mansions, like in Gram’s favorite movie, Gone with the Wind. The cerebellum is the part of the brain that’s in charge of keeping our balance and coordination. It helps maintain our posture and fine motor skills, which can be easy to take for granted. Until something you can usually do effortlessly apparently isn’t good enough for your riding instructor. And he makes you look like an idiot.

“Chin up,” Max calls out. “Don’t look down, Lulu.”