Horse Care by Bonnie Bryant

high-qualityestablishment. Marguerite tells me they have some beautiful horses, and, of course they cater to a very exclusive clientele.”
    Lisa glanced at Marguerite, expecting to see her roll her eyes, just as she would have done if her own mother had made a similarly shallow comment. But Marguerite was nodding in agreement.
    “Definitely,” she said. “I tried riding at another stable for a while, but it was awful. They let anybody who walked in off the street ride there, even if they showed up in ratty old jeans.”
    Lisa blushed and tried not to look down at her own jeans. They weren’t exactly ratty and old. Compared to Stevie’s jeans, which Stevie tended to wear until they fell apart, Lisa’s looked practically brand-new. But Lisa had a feeling that the distinction would be lost on Marguerite.
    Mrs. Mills cleared her throat meaningfully, and Marguerite suddenly glanced over at Lisa. She blushed, too. “Oops!” she said. “Oh, I’m sorry, Lisa. I didn’t mean anything by that. Really. Um, actually, I was just admiring your jeans a moment ago. Where did you buy them? I might get a pair myself.”
    “I got them at the mall in Willow Creek,” Lisa said. “I don’t remember which store.”
    Mrs. Atwood broke in. Her face was brighter red than either Lisa’s or Marguerite’s. “I remember, dear,” shesaid, obviously trying to sound cheerful. “It was that little boutique, wasn’t it? Nouveau Style.”
    “Um, maybe,” Lisa said. She knew very well that her jeans hadn’t come from the expensive store her mother had mentioned. But she also knew that her mother was trying to save face in front of the Millses.
    “Well!” Mrs. Mills said, in a too-bright, too-loud tone that meant she was trying to change the subject. “It looks as though everyone is finished. Shall we move into the sitting room?”
    I T SEEMED LIKE hours later that the adults dropped off Lisa and Marguerite at the stable. Actually, Lisa thought, they had probably sat in the Millses’ sitting room for only about twenty minutes.
    By now, Lisa was sure that she and Marguerite Mills had very little in common. She had never met anyone as silly, shallow, and snobby as Marguerite—unless it was Marguerite’s mother.
    Even Veronica diAngelo can’t hold a candle to those two
, Lisa thought as she climbed out of the Millses’ luxury sedan. Then she felt guilty. Marguerite might not be Lisa’s idea of a good time, but at least she didn’t seem mean and scheming like Veronica.
Probably because she’s not smart enough
, a little voice in Lisa’s head piped up before she could stop it.
    Lisa pushed all such uncharitable thoughts out of hermind as she followed Marguerite up a long landscaped drive toward a low, elegantly designed building.
    “This is it,” Marguerite said, sounding pleased. “Fox Crest Farms.” She indicated the building with a sweep of her hand.
    Lisa paused to take in the view. Just beyond the stable building she saw a gently rolling pasture where several sleek, healthy-looking horses were grazing. There was a mounting block near the front entrance to the building, and a man in formal riding attire was mounting a tall, strapping bay horse. Even with the sun still hiding behind the clouds, Lisa had to admit that it made a very pretty picture.
    “It looks great,” she said sincerely.
    Marguerite smiled. “I know,” she said. “Just wait until you meet the people. My friend Shannon will probably be here later—she has a full-blooded Arabian. And my friend Jack might be here, too. His parents own half the shopping malls on the East Coast. He rides a Thoroughbred.”
    Lisa couldn’t resist speaking up. “I ride a Thoroughbred back at Pine Hollow,” she said. “Her name is Prancer. She’s really sweet and eager to please, and she—”
    “Did I mention my friend Kelton?” Marguerite interrupted. She didn’t even seem to realize that Lisa had spoken. “His dad’s a senator, and Kelton has two horses: a