One Unhappy Horse by C. S. Adler Page B

are you calling about?"
    Jan swallowed and persisted in being polite. "I'm sorry you aren't feeling well. How's your husband—I mean, Grandpa?" She disliked using the term for a man she barely knew, but it was what her grandmother had asked her to call her new husband.
    "No worse, no better."
    "That's too bad," Jan said inadequately.
    "Yes, it is," Grandma said. "And how's school? You're not in trouble, are you?"
    "No. I'm fine. And so is Mom. I'm passing my courses okay. But ... It's my horse."
    "Horse?" Grandma snorted. "It would be a horse. That's all you people out there care about. Well, what's the problem with your horse?"
    "This is Dove, the horse Dad gave me? He's got a bad leg and he needs an operation."
    "How unfortunate. I suppose that means money."
    "Yes. Mom asked the bank, but they won't lend it to her."
    "And no doubt you've already spent what I sent you for your birthday and Christmas."
    "No, Grandma. But I had to pay for the x-rays, and that took all I had."
    Grandma made a sound of disgust. Then she said what she'd said many times before. "It's time you and your mother realized that horses are for rich people. You can't afford to
live on a ranch. She can't make a living trying to run one. Even your father couldn't make a profit from that dry-bones little place. And now you're in trouble and you expect me to bail you out?"
    "I need a thousand dollars, maybe more," Jan admitted.
    She wasn't surprised when her grandmother answered promptly. "Don't expect to get it from me. I haven't got money to waste. And fixing up that animal just means something else will happen to it to cause more expense. Sorry." But she didn't sound sorry.
    "I hope you feel better soon, Grandma," Jan said quietly. And she hung up.
    When her mother asked her if she'd made the phone call, Jan nodded. "You were right. She wouldn't lend us anything—not for a horse." And probably not for us, either, Jan thought privately.

    On Monday in school, Jan found Brittany talking animatedly to a group of kids perched on desks around her. Timidly, Jan tapped Brittany on the shoulder and said, "I'm sorry I didn't get to your party Friday. I really wanted to come. But something happened with my horse, and I just had to deal with it."
    The minute Brittany looked up at her, Jan could see by the coldness in her eyes that any liking Brittany had had for her was gone. "Well, you missed a good party," Brittany said. She paused and added with disdainful emphasis, "because of your
horse." Then she turned her back on Jan and leaned toward her group. "Wasn't that hysterical when Mark's wig dropped in the punch?"
    The others laughed with her.
    Jan backed away. It hurt to have lost the one friend she'd had in school. Although there was still Lisa. But Lisa wasn't in homeroom, and Jan didn't know where she might be. If she could just find Lisa and explain what had happened, it might put things right again between them. Last Friday night, Jan had been too upset to explain anything.
    Lisa walked in after first-period class had started and handed the teacher an excuse slip about a dentist appointment.
    "I need to talk to you," Jan said to her in the hall during change of class.
    "I don't have time now," Lisa said.
    At lunchtime, Jan got in line behind Lisa to buy milk and an apple. Lisa turned and said accusingly, "My mother was mad at me for making her drive so far out of the way to pick you up—and then you didn't come. What's wrong with you? Is it me you don't like? Or are you just antisocial?"
    "I couldn't—I just couldn't go to a party that night, Lisa. I'm sorry. It wasn't you. I mean, you've been very nice to me, and—" Jan swallowed and got stuck in the knot of excuses.
    "Then why didn't you call or something?" Lisa asked. "You made me get yelled at. My mom hates driving at night. I only offered because I thought—Well, you live near me
and nobody much else does. But I guess you don't need friends."
    Jan caught her breath. "Yes, I do,"