Pony Passion by Harriet Castor Read Free Book Online Page B

but somehow the reins had slipped from my hands and there was nothing I could do. I grabbed hold of her mane. Now she was taking off, and jumping higher and higher…
    …and suddenly I was out of the saddle and falling. The world was spinning around me in a sickening blur. I didn’t know where the ground was, or how soon I would hit it.
    And, in the distance, I heard Mrs McAllister screaming, “Lyndsey, Lyndsey! No!”

“Lyndz. Lyndz! It’s OK. Wake up!”
    Suddenly, I felt someone shaking me. I groaned and opened my eyes to find Fliss leaning over me, peering at me in bleary concern. Rosie, Frankie and Kenny were sitting up in their sleeping bags, their hair muzzed up from sleep.
    “Were you having a nightmare?” asked Rosie.
    “Your breathing went really weird,” said Fliss. “Kind of whimpery. It was freaky.”
    I rubbed my face. “I – I was falling…” I stammered.
    “Falling?” echoed Kenny, rubbing her eyes.
    “Were you dreaming about riding?” asked Rosie gently. “About the accident?”
    I nodded, remembering. Then I shivered. “It was horrible.”
    “Poor Lyndz,” said Fliss, putting her arm round me.
    “This calls for emergency treats,” declared Frankie. She wriggled out of her sleeping bag. “Will hot chocolate do?”
    “That’d be great,” I said.
    “Er, Frankie…” said Kenny, putting on a weak and trembly voice. “I think I had a nightmare too.”
    “And me,” giggled Rosie.
    “OK, OK, I get it.” Frankie grinned. “Hot chocolate all round.” A few minutes later she came back carrying a tray crowded with mugs of steaming cocoa. She’d even found some leftover marshmallows to float in the top.
    “Feeling any better?” she asked, handing me a mug.
    My smile felt a bit wobbly, but I nodded. “Miles. Thanks.”
    Rosie blew on her cocoa to cool it. “Are you missing riding a lot, Lyndz?” she said.
    I couldn’t tell them about today’s gymkhana. After that argument we’d had at school, I couldn’t even tell them how I really felt. I wanted to say “desperately”. But instead I shrugged and said, “A bit, I guess. I’m not really thinking about it to be honest – except in my sleep. There’s enough going on with you guys!”
    And there was enough going on over the next few weeks. Though it didn’t stop me missing riding, it certainly kept me busy! We had to design the pictures that we were going to turn into cardboard cut-outs – Dad said he’d help me with the actual cutting. Then the cut-outs were going to need painting. There were our costumes to sort out, too. And on top of allthat, we had to decide what we were going to talk about – “Write the script of the show!” as Frankie kept saying. That ended up involving loads of head-scratching and pencil-chewing.
    “I can’t do a speech if I’m the back end of the horse,” said Kenny in class one day when we were having another project meeting. “Whoever heard of a horse with a talking bottom?”
    Rosie giggled. “But Mrs Weaver won’t like that,” she said. “She’ll think you’ve done no work.”
    “Suits me!” grinned Kenny.
    “Not so fast, lazybones,” Frankie jumped in. “Whatever we’re going to say we should share.”
    Kenny blew a raspberry. “Spoilsport. Anyway, we’ve got to make it short and snappy or there’ll be no time for our dance routine.”
    “What dance routine?” I said. “You’re joking, right?”
    “No way!” Kenny laughed. “You can’t have a panto horse without a little comedy dancing, can you?”
    Frankie nudged me. “Kenny and I have beenpractising. We’ll give you a free demo at break if you like.”
    Though I didn’t say anything, I wasn’t at all sure about the idea of a dance routine. Mrs Weaver had talked about “imaginative presentation”, but I was pretty convinced that meant getting historical facts across without boring everyone to tears, not just prancing about.
    At break Frankie led the way to the Sleepover Club’s venue for top secret