Free The Case of the Missing Dinosaur Egg by June Whyte Page B

a king-size container of double-chocolate-mud ice cream and sharing the tub with Fang…
    *
    I had three minutes to get ready for Kate’s group lesson. Taking extra care, I fastened Shakespeare’s tendon boots and stood up. Yesterday, one boot fell off as I trotted over the trot poles. Instead of blaming me, Kate blamed Noah for not showing me how to fasten the boots correctly. But it wasn’t Noah’s fault—he was a stickler for safety.
    Funny thing, the more I had to do with Noah, the more I was able to put up with him. Okay he’d never be best friend material and was still Short Dark and Very Irritating , but he did have his good points. He was a mega-good teacher. So it beats me how the tendon boot just up and jumped off Shakespeare’s leg. Perhaps my mind had been on the professor’s eggs instead of on pressing all the Velcro straps down firmly.
    Oh well, that wouldn’t happen again. My mind could now focus on the task of riding, because according to the professor, he was cleaner than a brand new pair of Billabong jeans. Although come to think of it…where had all his eggs come from in the first place? You can’t buy platypus eggs from the post-office—cockatoo eggs from the chemist—or lizard eggs from the library.
    I still thought the professor was way weird.
    But now it was time to surprise Kate with my new riding skills. Show her how much I’d improved since she’d first thrown me on Shakespeare and I’d fallen straight off the other side.
    According to the notice on the communal bulletin board, today’s lesson was going to be all about ‘jumping into water’. Should be fun.
    “Okay, let’s show everyone how to do it,” I told Shakespeare, kissing him on the softest, pinkest spot on his nose. His reply was to rub his head on the front of my shirt and then grab one of the buttons with his teeth.
    “Hey, stop that!” Laughing, I pushed him away. I’d never seen Shakespeare looking so happy. Since he’d been out of retirement he was a different horse. I thought of Grandpa Ryan in the retirement home at Tanunda and swallowed a lump. Nothing to do—and all day to do it in. Lately, every time we visited him, Grandpa seemed older and more far-away.
    With my helmet fastened under my chin, I led Shakespeare out of the stable block. First I tightened the girth one more hole, then, satisfied everything was secure, put my foot in the stirrup and swung up onto his back.
    “Hi, Tayla.”
    As my best friend rode toward me, I blinked. Her whiter than white, crisp cotton shirt and dazzlingly shiny riding boots had me squinting in the sun. Geez…a mere mortal like me definitely needed sunglasses around this girl.
    When Tayla halted beside me I could see she wasn’t a happy little vegemite. Her face was the color of wet cement.
    “You okay?”
    “I’m going to be sick,” she moaned. “I am sooo scared.”
    “Why?”
    “What if I fall off in the water?”
    “Come on, Tay, it’s no big deal. If you fall off, just shake the water out of your eyes and get back on again.” I grinned. “It’ll be cool.”
    The color of her face didn’t change—evidently she didn’t get my pun. “I love riding Angel,” she said, her voice small, “but jumping’s way too scary.”
    For someone who was terrified of spiders, bugs and seeing dead people, this didn’t surprise me.
    It was weird, but I was actually looking forward to Cross-Country day. As well as riding bareback to strengthen my seat, Noah had shown me how to stand with a soccer ball between my legs. The trick was to keep squeezing the ball until you couldn’t squeeze any more. His theory was that the exercise strengthened the calves and thighs. Whatever. As long as it stopped me from falling off so much.
    By the time Tayla and I rode across to the working arena, the other ten riders had straggled into a wavy line. Like a sergeant major Kate stood in front, legs apart, hands behind her back, fair hair covered by a battered old Akubra hat.
    “Okay,