Free Mustang Moon by Terri Farley Page A

myself.”
    About time , Sam thought. She’d been selecting her own clothes forever. But she only said, “Looks good to me.”
    â€œThanks,” Jen said. “Mom said I was dressed to go muck out stalls, but I stood firm. The thing is”—Jen lowered her voice—“I don’t really care.”
    â€œSo, you have horses?”
    A queasy look crossed Jen’s face, and Sam worried that she’d ended the friendship before it had begun. How could she have forgotten what Jake had told her? The Kenworthys had been on the verge of losing their ranch when Slocum offered to buy it.
    â€œWell, yeah,” Jen said. “You remember—”
    â€œI do. Sorry,” Sam apologized. “I forgot.”
    â€œNo big deal.” Jen ducked her head. “After all, I forgot you, uh, didn’t have a mom to say stupid things to you, like mine does.”
    Silence simmered between them for a minute.They’d both messed up and admitted it. That seemed a fine beginning for a friendship.
    â€œBut, yeah,” Jen said at last, “we still have a few horses. Mine is Silk Stocking, but I call her Silly. She’s a truly ditzy palomino mare.” Jen shook her head, then added, “I plan to be a vet, though, and she’s better than a textbook on horse neuroses.”
    â€œShe’d probably get along great with Ace, my little mustang. All the other horses like to push him around.” Sam met Jen’s eyes. Clearly, they both loved their horses, no matter what. “We should go ride sometime.”
    The roar of the yellow school bus ended their conversation. Jen didn’t do more than nod, and Sam didn’t mention the ride would have to wait until she was out of trouble.
    Â 
    The morning hours were filled with slamming lockers, ringing bells, and shouting voices. Guided by a useless photocopied map, Sam navigated miles of mazelike halls. She made it to each class on time, but Jake’s warning about weeping freshmen kept her from visiting her locker until lunch hour.
    Arms aching, Sam approached her locker, carrying every book from each morning class. In little tiny ink numbers, she’d written her combination on the inside of her wrist.
    Her locker opened like a dream. Sam arranged her books inside, closed it, and opened it again, thistime without consulting the numbers on her wrist.
    When a group of laughing girls passed by, Sam looked at her watch, pretending she had someplace to go. She didn’t. She’d had English class with Jen, but Jen hadn’t mentioned meeting for lunch. And Sam hadn’t seen Jake.
    She decided not to wander around looking lost. Instead, she pulled an apple from her backpack and wished the break would end. She practiced opening her locker again. She had journalism after lunch. She’d been on the newspaper staff in middle school, and her teacher had said she had talent. Sam was excited to give it a try in high school.
    She might meet some people, too. Although a lot of the other students were strangers to each other, Sam had felt too shy to speak to people in her other classes. She hoped journalism was less formal. Maybe there she could relax and make some friends.
    Sam closed her locker. She turned the dial very deliberately, in case anyone was watching.
    At last, the bell rang. A stampede of students filled the halls, but it was a knot of rowdy boys she noticed. As they forged a path through the other kids, Sam saw Jake. The quietest of them all, he moved along in the center, grinning.
    Until he saw Sam. Then, Jake came to such a sudden stop, another student rammed into him from behind. Jake staggered forward a step, but his eyes stayed on Sam.
    Jake hated her short hair. That was clear. He kept going—without waving, without saying hi, without recognizing she was alive.
    He’d get used to it, Sam told herself. It’s not like she’d planned to tag along with him at school. She’d see him at