polished her glasses, held them up for inspection, and let her eyes slide sideways to meet Sam’s.
It’s okay . Jen mouthed the words silently, then slipped her glasses back on.
Sam really hoped she was right.
By the time they reached school and got off the bus, Sam had to hurry to her locker. Her rush didn’t keep her from noticing the eyes that followed her. Up and down the halls, kids from the bus were spreading gossip about the morning’s excitement.
Later, when a student messenger interrupted Sam’s history class to give Mrs. Ely a yellow office pass, everyone looked at Sam.
“Sam?” Mrs. Ely raised one eyebrow, and Sam guessed word of her misdeed hadn’t had time to spread to the teachers’ workroom this morning.
She almost enjoyed her walk to the office. Unlike her three-story San Francisco middle school, Darton High’s single story framed a central courtyard. Sam crunched through yellow cottonwood leaves and looked up at the patches of blue sky showing between wind-torn white clouds.
Sam pulled her sleeves down. The breeze cut right through her cotton shirt, feeling like winter, butthat was the least of her worries. If she’d known when she got dressed this morning that she’d be talking with the principal, she would’ve worn her newest jeans. Or maybe even a skirt.
It probably wouldn’t have made any difference.
Mrs. Santos wore a businesslike beige suit and fooled with a clip-on earring as Sam entered the principal’s office. Not until Mrs. Santos pointed her toward a chair did Sam notice the principal was on the telephone.
During her first week at Darton High, Sam had interviewed Mrs. Santos for the school newspaper. She’d found the principal to be a no-nonsense woman with a great sense of humor. Would she feel that way when she left Mrs. Santos’s office this time?
Sam waited. With luck, Mrs. Santos would just lecture her. There was no reason, really, for Gram and Dad to find out about her reckless behavior.
They worried, and they blamed the Phantom for Sam’s riding accident. Even though the stallion had been young, and had carried her weight for less than an hour, they blamed him for Sam’s fall, for the kick that knocked her unconscious and kept her in the hospital for several weeks.
After that, Sam had been forced to live in San Francisco for two years, just to be near a hospital.
Since the day Sam had returned from San Francisco, Gram had been afraid the stallion would hurt her again. And if Dad thought Rachel’s ridingoff into the mountains was a “stunt,” what would he say about this?
Mrs. Santos hung up the receiver.
“Sorry,” she said. Immediately, her eyes skimmed a form Sam knew was the citation. Mrs. Santos frowned, then pushed the form toward Sam. “Look at this.”
Sam studied the undecipherable handwriting. She recognized her name and the word horse , but that was all.
“I can’t read it,” Sam said.
“Neither can I, and I’ve never had trouble reading one of Mr. Pinkerton’s citations before.” Mrs. Santos shook her head. “The man’s driven a school bus for fifteen years. He doesn’t get rattled easily. Tell me what happened.”
Sam did. She left out the fact that she knew the wild horse she’d rescued.
“It’s not like I’m ever going to do this again,” Sam ended her explanation.
“No,” Mrs. Santos agreed. “Not this .”
Sam wasn’t sure what the principal’s emphasis meant. While Mrs. Santos wrote on the form, Sam checked the wall clock. She’d missed half of P.E. The bad thing was, it was one of only two classes she had with Jen. On the other hand, it was one of two classes she had with Rachel.
When Mrs. Santos finally put down her pen, Sam realized she’d been sitting with fingers crossed onboth hands while she awaited the principal’s decision.
“You’ll need to apologize to Mr. Pinkerton--”
Sam found herself smiling and nodding before Mrs. Santos finished her sentence.
“--and find other transportation
It’s okay . Jen mouthed the words silently, then slipped her glasses back on.
Sam really hoped she was right.
By the time they reached school and got off the bus, Sam had to hurry to her locker. Her rush didn’t keep her from noticing the eyes that followed her. Up and down the halls, kids from the bus were spreading gossip about the morning’s excitement.
Later, when a student messenger interrupted Sam’s history class to give Mrs. Ely a yellow office pass, everyone looked at Sam.
“Sam?” Mrs. Ely raised one eyebrow, and Sam guessed word of her misdeed hadn’t had time to spread to the teachers’ workroom this morning.
She almost enjoyed her walk to the office. Unlike her three-story San Francisco middle school, Darton High’s single story framed a central courtyard. Sam crunched through yellow cottonwood leaves and looked up at the patches of blue sky showing between wind-torn white clouds.
Sam pulled her sleeves down. The breeze cut right through her cotton shirt, feeling like winter, butthat was the least of her worries. If she’d known when she got dressed this morning that she’d be talking with the principal, she would’ve worn her newest jeans. Or maybe even a skirt.
It probably wouldn’t have made any difference.
Mrs. Santos wore a businesslike beige suit and fooled with a clip-on earring as Sam entered the principal’s office. Not until Mrs. Santos pointed her toward a chair did Sam notice the principal was on the telephone.
During her first week at Darton High, Sam had interviewed Mrs. Santos for the school newspaper. She’d found the principal to be a no-nonsense woman with a great sense of humor. Would she feel that way when she left Mrs. Santos’s office this time?
Sam waited. With luck, Mrs. Santos would just lecture her. There was no reason, really, for Gram and Dad to find out about her reckless behavior.
They worried, and they blamed the Phantom for Sam’s riding accident. Even though the stallion had been young, and had carried her weight for less than an hour, they blamed him for Sam’s fall, for the kick that knocked her unconscious and kept her in the hospital for several weeks.
After that, Sam had been forced to live in San Francisco for two years, just to be near a hospital.
Since the day Sam had returned from San Francisco, Gram had been afraid the stallion would hurt her again. And if Dad thought Rachel’s ridingoff into the mountains was a “stunt,” what would he say about this?
Mrs. Santos hung up the receiver.
“Sorry,” she said. Immediately, her eyes skimmed a form Sam knew was the citation. Mrs. Santos frowned, then pushed the form toward Sam. “Look at this.”
Sam studied the undecipherable handwriting. She recognized her name and the word horse , but that was all.
“I can’t read it,” Sam said.
“Neither can I, and I’ve never had trouble reading one of Mr. Pinkerton’s citations before.” Mrs. Santos shook her head. “The man’s driven a school bus for fifteen years. He doesn’t get rattled easily. Tell me what happened.”
Sam did. She left out the fact that she knew the wild horse she’d rescued.
“It’s not like I’m ever going to do this again,” Sam ended her explanation.
“No,” Mrs. Santos agreed. “Not this .”
Sam wasn’t sure what the principal’s emphasis meant. While Mrs. Santos wrote on the form, Sam checked the wall clock. She’d missed half of P.E. The bad thing was, it was one of only two classes she had with Jen. On the other hand, it was one of two classes she had with Rachel.
When Mrs. Santos finally put down her pen, Sam realized she’d been sitting with fingers crossed onboth hands while she awaited the principal’s decision.
“You’ll need to apologize to Mr. Pinkerton--”
Sam found herself smiling and nodding before Mrs. Santos finished her sentence.
“--and find other transportation
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