Hoof Beat by Bonnie Bryant

left!”
    Lisa could tell Veronica was just warming up to her subject and had lots more to say when she was interrupted by the public address system. Max announced that class would begin in five minutes. The girls hurried to collect their tack and go saddle their horses.
    Lisa remained in Mrs. Reg’s office, hiding in the shadows, unable to move. Thoughts raced through her mind, the words that Veronica had read echoing again and again. Everything that had sounded so cute and funny when she’d written it had come out sounding cruel and heartless as Veronica read it. True, Veronica could make a Valentine sound like a death threat, but the words were Lisa’s. She’d written everything Veronica had read, and although she hadn’t meant to at all, she’d made Trudy sound awful. Poor Trudy.
    “Lisa, is that you?” Mrs. Reg’s soft voice broke into her thoughts. “Are you crying, dear?”
    Lisa brushed her cheek with her hand and was surprised to find it streaked with tears. She hadn’t realized.She knew that they were tears of anger, tears of humiliation, tears of sadness, but mostly, they were tears for Trudy. She must have hurt Trudy very much and that was exactly the opposite of what she’d meant to do.
    Then she could see what Trudy had been telling her. Friends don’t treat one another the way she’d been treating her friends. They don’t take things said in private and make them public the way she’d done with Trudy; they don’t use others’ personal problems for their own personal use, the way she’d done with the loss of Stevie’s wallet. That wasn’t what friendship was about; it also wasn’t what journalism was about. She wasn’t being a journalist, she was just being a gossip.
    Mrs. Reg slipped her arm across Lisa’s shoulder to comfort her. Lisa had the feeling Mrs. Reg knew exactly what had happened. Mrs. Reg always seemed to know.
    “Oh,” Lisa said, turning to the older woman, “Mrs. Reg, I’ve done the most awful thing!”
    Mrs. Reg hugged her and then Lisa’s tears came pouring out. On top of everything else, she didn’t feel as if she deserved Mrs. Reg’s comfort. That made her cry even harder.
    “I’ve hurt so many people’s feelings,” she said. “I hurt Stevie and Carole and Anna, Betsy, and Polly—even Veronica—and now worst of all, I hurt Trudy’s. I didn’t mean to do it, but I did it. Everything I wrote was worse than the last thing I’d done. I’m just soawful!” She wanted to say more, but she was crying too hard.
    Mrs. Reg reached for a tissue from the top of her desk and gave it to Lisa. Then a second and a third. She waited, quietly, until finally the last tear had dropped.
    “Done?” Mrs. Reg asked.
    Lisa nodded. “Definitely! I’m done writing, I’m done with my friends, I guess I’m even done riding.”
    “Hold on now,” Mrs. Reg said. “Just because you’ve made a whole bunch of mistakes doesn’t mean it’s time to make a whole bunch more.” Mrs. Reg led Lisa to the tack room bench where they both sat down. “I remember a rider we had here once,” she began.
    Mrs. Reg was famous for her memory of past horses and riders. It seemed to The Saddle Club that whenever there was a problem, Mrs. Reg had a story to tell. Lisa and her friends had learned long ago that her stories were usually worth listening to.
    “This rider started riding here when she was about your age, but she’d already been riding for years. Max knew right away that she had talent, but she also had problems. Lots of them. See, not only had she been riding for years, but she’d been riding wrong for years. She wanted to be a championship rider and Max thought she could be among the best. That was the only place they agreed. See, she’d gotten the idea that her job, as a rider, was to control the horse. From the minute she’d get into the saddle until she got out, sheheld that poor animal in check, tugging on the reins, squeezing him with her legs, hitting him with the whip.