Fear of Falling Read Free Page A

was squeezing his sides too tightly. “Sorry, boy,” I whisper, patting his neck. He can probably tell I’m feeling tense. Dad says horses always know what we’re thinking and feeling, even when we don’t know ourselves.
    â€œDavid!”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œQuit daydreaming,” Zoe says with a grin. “The parade’s starting.”
    â€œHey, I’m ready!” I tell myself to forget about Dad. Because right now I’m doing my favorite thing in the world—riding Trickster.
    As the parade gets under way, I start to relax and have a good time. Being in a parade is so cool! I scan the sea of faces lining the sidewalk and spot Brian with some of his buddies from the multiplex.
    â€œHey, David, nice wheels!” Brian calls out, shooting me the thumbs-up sign.
    I can’t help breaking into a grin, thankful that he didn’t shout out some snotty insult to impress his friends. You just never know what a big brother is going to do when he’s out in public.
    Rachel, the cute girl who sits in front of me in science class, waves at me like I’m some kind of celebrity. “I love your horse!” she shouts. She and her friends fall all over themselves, giggling.
    â€œDavid! You’re blushing!” Zoe teases from her horse, a tall bay named Claiborne.
    I duck my head and turn toward the other side of the street, pretending that I have to wave an equal amount on both sides. Is there any way to make your face un-blush? But I have to admit I love getting all this attention. I feel like a movie star.
    Suddenly the fire truck up ahead blares its siren, startling me—and my horse. Trickster spooks and skitters sideways, catching me off balance. I clutch the saddle as my legs fly out of the stirrups. It feels like I’m going to fall, but I regain my balance just in time and quickly bring Trickster under control.
    Behind us, Claiborne snorts. Turning to check on Zoe, I see Claiborne rear, his forelegs pawing the air. Zoe’s face is white. I’ve never seen her look scared on a horse before.
    â€œHang on, Zoe!” I shout.
    Zoe grabs a handful of mane and leans forward into Claiborne’s neck, her legs tight against the horse’s flanks. Just as suddenly, Claiborne drops back down, his hooves clattering on the asphalt, and Zoe loses her grip and tumbles to the street.
    â€œZoe!” I cry, reining Trickster to a stop, terrified that she’ll be trampled by Claiborne’s hooves. She needs help, but I’m not sure what to do; I’ve got my own horse to control. Just as I’m about to dismount, Mr. Quinn rushes up and grabs Claiborne’s reins.
    â€œAre you all right?” I call down to Zoe.
    She stands up slowly, brushing off her arms. “I think so!” she says breathlessly. She looks at her elbow. It’s badly scraped.
    â€œMr. Quinn,” I call out. “Zoe’s bleeding!”
    Mr. Quinn glances at her arm and pulls out a bandanna for her to wrap around the scrape. “You need to go to the first-aid station, Zoe,” he tells her. “I’ll take care of Claiborne.” He points out a booth with a red cross on it. “Can you make it there on your own?”
    Zoe nods, but I can tell she’s disappointed about not finishing the parade.
    â€œI’m sorry, Zoe,” I tell her.
    She shrugs. “No biggie. Don’t worry about me. You go ahead. Have fun!”
    I wave good-bye to Zoe and continue on with the other riders. We’re past the shops now, and both sides of the street are lined with tables. The firefighters have a safety exhibit, and the 4-H club is signing up new members. When we pass the Dr. Mac’s Place booth, Sunita and Dr. Mac are so busy handing out pamphlets about vaccinations and spaying and neutering that they don’t even see us ride by. Dr. Mac must be really pleased. She likes it when people want to learn about being responsible pet owners.
    I can