Eager Star by Dandi Daley Mackall

. . . well, creative. Ms. Brumby liked several of your comparisons between students and horses. Except some of the things about the lead mare?”
    â€œIt’s not fair, Dad! You don’t know Ms. Brumby. She’s cold and mean, and she hates me!”
    â€œWinnie, that’s enough,” he said quietly, which worried me more than if he’d just yelled and gotten it over with. “I had a long talk with Ms. Brumby. She’s a caring teacher who only wants what’s best for you. She’s concerned that you feel alienated in your new school. And, quite frankly, so am I. She sees you connecting everything to horses, but not relating to your peers. If you could have heard the concern in her voice, Winnie!”
    They clone them! Every rotten teacher I’d ever had turned out some caring imitation whenever parents were around.
    Dad went on for a few minutes about starting fresh and giving Ms. Brumby and the other kids a chance. I sat tight-lipped, wondering what it would feel like to have Dad talk to me this long when he wasn’t angry. For some reason, whenever Dad and I were together, we both missed Mom so much we couldn’t stand it.
    When I got up to leave, I couldn’t help but think, Mom would have listened to my side about the journals. She would have understood.
    By the time I went to bed, Lizzy was asleep, and I had to trip over my floor junk. I said my prayers and asked God to bless everybody. Then I added, And please don’t let me disappoint Dad again.

    Saturday I woke with a queasy stomach. Get ready, Star. You have one week to become the greatest barrel racer this side of Texas! We can’t disappoint Grant or his dad . . . or mine.
    â€œGoing to rain,” Lizzy announced when I came outside. She wiped her forehead with a hand that had been digging in dirt.
    I glanced at the cloudless sky and had to squint at the sun. “You’re crazy, Lizzy!”
    She pulled three gross worms out of the ground. “Hear that?”
    I listened. Towaco whinnied. Beach Boys music blared from Dad’s bedroom. “What?”
    â€œFrogs going crazy. Birds are quiet. Cows are lying down. Going to rain.” Lizzy’s voice was matter-of-fact.
    Now I heard the steady croaking from the pond. I knew I should believe Lizzy. She can tell the temperature by how fast crickets chirp. But I couldn’t find a single cloud in the sky. “Frogs are just in a good mood!” I called, jogging to the barn.
    I’d no sooner hooked one cross-tie to Star’s halter than he jerked back so hard the strap pulled out of the wall.
    â€œStar!” I grabbed the strap before it could slap him.
    He didn’t run away but stood trembling, the broken strap dangling from his halter.
    I sighed and unhooked the strap. “Eager Star, you want to tell me how a Quarter Horse gets this nervous?” A truly nervous horse is one of the few lost causes.
    â€œWho you rapping with?” Catman had sneaked up like a cat burglar. He wore a purple shirt with a peace sign on it, denim bell-bottoms, and sandals.
    â€œCatman, if I don’t turn Grant’s nervous horse into a champion barrel racer by next Saturday, nobody’s ever going to come to Winnie the horse gentler again!”
    Catman peered past me. “No barrels?”
    â€œThat’s just one of my problems. Mr. Baines had said he’d drop off barrels. Spidells might even agree to have the race here. But so far, no barrels.”
    â€œChill, Winnie.” Catman shuffled away.
    I had Star saddled when Catman returned with Barker and Lizzy. Giving them a quick wave, I made a moving mount and settled into the Western saddle. I wasn’t so sure I wanted an audience.
    â€œI don’t know how I let Catman talk me into this!” Lizzy shouted as the three of them joined Star and me in the pasture.
    â€œPersonally,” Barker said, “I’ve always wanted to be a