Gray Horse at Oak Lane Stable (Book 2)
2022 Purple Dragonfly Book Award - Honorable Mention for Middle Grade Fiction
2021 MiPA (Midwest Book Award) Silver Medal Finalist
ISBN: 979-8-9882964-0-9
E-ISBN: 979-8-9882964-1-6
$13.95 Paperback, $3.99 Ebook
Chapter 1. Excerpt:
Stormy March winds whipped freezing rain against the windows of our 8th grade classroom, making tons of ticking noise as it ricocheted off the glass. An icy sheen glazed everything outside. It snowed heavily this morning, adding maybe 2 inches to what was already on the ground. I thought we’d have a snow day, but they didn’t call off school. The snow had changed to sleet late morning, then to rain when it warmed up before lunch, and was now back to sleet after lunch. I stared toward the windows, chewing my left nails, and wondered if I’d make it to the stable later to ride Snowdrops.
“Bet we get sent home early,” Scott Hanson said as he got up from his desk, hiked up his too-big jeans, and went over to the windows to watch. He’s been in my class since 5th grade. “Bet that’s where Mrs. Thompson went … to talk to Mr. Edgeman to send us—”
“No they won't,” said Tommy O’Connor, the new guy who had started 8th grade with us last fall. He wriggled his long legs out from under his metal desk to join Scott. “It’s got to be worse than this before the principal sends us home. It’s only raining.”
“Bet they do,” Scott said as David Schaeffer, James Strupp, Karen Klink, Harvey Strobel, Robert John Lewandowski The Third, and some of my other classmates joined him and Tommy to watch the icy rain bounce off the windows and freeze up the small Wisconsin schoolyard.
“Do you think we can still go to the barn?” I asked Allison and Ingrid, my two best horse friends since forever and who were next to my desk. “Claire said she’d have time to give me a lesson today when I rode Snowdrops. I need to practice if I’m going to qualify for the Children’s Hunt Seat Equitation Finals this fall.”
“I was going to ride Diamond Jack.” Allison snuck a piece of pink bubble gum into her mouth from a crumpled, opened pack she kept in her left jean’s pocket, even though she knew Mrs. Thomson forbade it during class. “Dad said they were predicting freezing rain, but we don’t live that far from the stable. My mom could drive us over. It’s not that bad outside.”
“Maybe it’ll stop later.” Ingrid leaned forward in her seat to maybe get a better look out the windows. “At least you guys have your own horses. My parents still won’t get me one. I always have to ride Bailey. Is Claire ever going to let me ride a different school horse?”
“You can always have my old school horse, George. He was fun to ride.” I looked at her, then back toward the windows and tried not to burst out laughing.
“He is not!” Ingrid sat up in her seat. “You always had a hard time riding him in lessons. The only time he wasn’t horrible was when you went to a horse show with him, and that wasn’t so great either.”
“He’s so slow.” Allison blew a small bubble in case Mrs. Thomson came back into the classroom and saw her doing it. Allison told me the last time she’d gotten caught, she promised herself she’d only blow tiny bubbles, not the giant ones she usually did so she wouldn’t get into trouble again.
“I wish I’d get my own horse.” Ingrid looked toward the windows. She probably watched David too. They’d been going steady since last summer. I used to have a secret crush on him last year, but I didn’t now.
“Maybe you’ll get one soon.” Allison leaned in closer. “Cassie, are you going to ask Tommy to the Sadie Hawkins dance in May? Girls ask the guys.”
I pulled my knees together and looked down. I picked at my notebook paper, ruffling the page edges. Heat creeped across my face.
I wished Allison hadn’t asked me that. Why couldn’t Mrs. Thomson hurry up and come back to class right now? I didn’t want to answer her.
“He’s cute,” Ingrid said softly. She blushed, looked down at her feet, and wagged her tennies back and forth.
“You’ve got a boyfriend, Ingrid.” Allison teased her. She blew a pink bubble, popped it, and sucked the wad back into her mouth.
Yes, Ingrid, you do have a boyfriend. Remember when I was mad at you last summer when David had asked you out and not me because he obviously liked you better? Now you think Tommy’s cute too?
“I think he’s kind of cute.” Ingrid pulled on a few strands of brown hair that curled near her face. “David is super-cute, though. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone.”
“Sure about that?” Allison stretched her legs out in front of her seat.
“Of course,” Ingrid said.
“Betcha would,” Allison teased her, “if the guy was better-looking than David.”
“Would not.” Ingrid looked toward David, who was still talking to Scott and Tommy by the windows.
“Would too.” Allison crossed her arms.
“Would not.” Ingrid’s face turned beet red.
“Would too.” Allison then blew a big bubble.
“Stop it!” Ingrid shouted at Allison as she leaned toward her.
Everyone by the windows turned their heads to look at us, including Lisa Schmidt—my classmate and riding rival since 5th grade. She thought she was better than any of us. She had a boyfriend who was a freshman in high school and had friends who were Junior-Level riders at shows.
We were all still in the Children’s Division. I couldn’t wait to turn 14 next year, then I’d be a Junior rider. I wanted to show in their hunter classes and ride the higher fences, maybe even start riding jumpers. I didn’t want to be a children’s anything anymore.
Ingrid gave Allison the death stare.
“Hey, guys, it’s okay.” I turned to face our other classmates standing by the windows and told them, “Nothing to look at over here.”
They went back to talking among themselves.
Allison blew a giant bubble just as Mrs. Thomson clomped back into the classroom, wearing her dark brown platform shoes that I loved and wished I had a pair like them. Her reddish-blond, roller-curled hair bobbed up and down as she walked in.
Allison twisted around in her seat, popped the bubble, and tried to suck it back into her mouth before she got caught.
“Class, I’ve spoken to Mr. Edgeman.” Mrs. Thomson scrutinized us through plastic tortoise shell, octagon-shaped eyeglasses and stood with her hands on her hips at the front of the room by the blackboard. She wore her beige bell-bottom pants suit, a matching belt tied around her waist, and a brown paisley blouse with a super-pointy collar. “They’ve canceled school this afternoon because of … Miss Greene, throw out that gum … the weather. It’s only supposed to get worse … Now, Allison … as the day goes on. Get your things together. The school buses have been dispatched and will be here in 20 minutes.”
Allison put the wad of gum in her left hand and crept over to the dark green garbage can next to Mrs. Thomson’s steel-gray teacher’s desk. She tossed the gum into the garbage can.
“Allison, I’ve spoken to you before about chewing gum during class.” Mrs. Thomson seemed mean, but was super-nice if you didn’t make her mad. “I will not permit this again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Mrs. Thomson.” Allison looked right at her, turned, and rolled her eyes when she walked back to her seat.
We watched her get yelled at.
“Now, get your things together.” Mrs. Thomson sat down at her desk. She put our stack of English essays into her leather-looking school bag—the essays we turned in before she was called to the principal’s office.
I grabbed my homework from inside my desk and shoved it into a brown paper grocery bag I brought with me so my books and papers wouldn’t get wet going to and from the school bus. We’d probably have at least one day off from school if the weather got as bad as they said it would. I wanted to go to Oak Lane Stable to see Snowdrops and practice riding . . . . .