Fear of Falling Read Free

jumper. A real beaut, huh? He’s a new boarder, just brought in yesterday.”
    â€œHe’s amazing,” I say. I stretch out my hand, palm down, to let King’s Shadow smell me.
    Over near the trailers, I catch Mr. Quinn watching me—or is it King’s Shadow he’s watching? When our eyes meet, he quickly glances away with an odd look on his face. What’s that about?
    Dr. Mac calls us. “Let’s go, kids. We don’t want to be late.”
    I forget about Mr. Quinn’s strange look. I’m going to ride Trickster in a parade!

Chapter Two
    D r. Mac says the Ambler Thanksgiving parade is “old-fashioned America.” Everyone from miles around comes to town for the event. Excitement is in the air, and everybody’s in a holiday spirit. Families line the streets, fathers holding their kids high up on their shoulders.
    Families. The thought is like a punch in the gut. Holidays are supposed to bring families together. I think of Dad and try not to search the crowd for him. If he shows up, he shows up. If he doesn’t…
    I shrug. I’m too old to think like Ashley—to think that I can blow out birthday candles and my wish will come true just because I want it to.
    In the parking lot behind the grocery store, we unload the horses from the trailers, backing them out one by one. Trickster does just fine. I’m so proud of him! I give him a quick final brushing. His chestnut coat is a rich reddish brown, and it shines in the sunlight. As usual, his long forelock flops over his eyes. I smile—he likes his bangs in his eyes, just like me. Carefully I comb his forelock into the center of his forehead, and he shakes it right back into his eyes. He’s playful—that’s how he got the name Trickster.
    The horses are used to being around people for riding lessons and horse shows. Still, we’re careful to talk softly and keep them calm as we saddle up. The excitement grows as we take our places in the parade.
    â€œSunita and I are going to head over to the booth now,” Dr. Mac says. They’ve set up a Dr. Mac’s Place table, where they’ll hand out information about pet care and vaccinations. She waves to us. “We’ll be watching!”
    Up ahead I spot Maggie with a bunch of her friends from school. They’ve all got their dogs, and they plan to entertain the crowd with obedience tricks. Maggie has her big old basset hound, Sherlock Holmes, on a leash. He’s not exactly the fastest dog in the west, but Maggie’s got him so well trained, I know he’ll put on a good show.
    Brenna is darting around taking pictures of everything. She’s really into photography, and she’s hoping that one of her photographs will get printed in the newspaper.
    I put my left foot in the stirrup and swing up into Trickster’s saddle. Wow, what a view! Trickster is fifteen hands high. Since a hand equals four inches, that means Trickster is five feet tall at his withers, where his neck and back meet. So I’m way above the crowd! I can see everything…Girl Scouts wearing reindeer antlers, a city fire truck all polished up and decorated with bunting, the high-school marching band playing holiday tunes.
    â€œBrenna!” I call down to her. “You should be up here. You can see almost the whole parade!”
    She snaps a picture of me, then looks up from behind the lens. “Yeah, right. And which hand would I hold the reins in while I’m focusing the camera?”
    She has me there.
    Suddenly, off in the crowd, the sunlight hits a shock of blond hair—a man craning his neck—and my heart leaps. Dad!
    But when the man turns, I realize it’s not him, and I feel like an idiot. This is no sappy holiday movie, I remind myself. I can’t help wondering how Ashley’s going to feel when Dad doesn’t show up for Thanksgiving dinner.
    How will I feel?
    Trickster snorts and steps sideways. I guess I