Hot Potato (Shelby and Blue) - Alyssa Brugman [5]
'I'll put them in one of the yards.'
Shelby tried to think of a reason why Clint couldn't stay for coffee. She glanced at the other girls. Erin shrugged.
The truck rumbled on. Occasionally the pony whinnied and kicked the wall of the truck. They weren't far from the stables now.
Since Shelby couldn't think of a reason why Clint shouldn't stay, she concentrated on coming up with an excuse as to why they bought the horse in the first place. Perhaps Lindsey's mum wouldn't be angry. She might even like the horse and congratulate the girls on making such an excellent choice.
Shelby sighed. No matter how good the mare was, Mrs Edel would still think it was irresponsible of them to buy a horse without first discussing it with an adult. At the very least they should have consulted the adult who was actually there.
But we couldn't ask Clint, Shelby thought. He would have said no.
She recalled the times she had seen Mrs Edel cross. Lindsey's mum wasn't one of those adults who dished out big punishments, or yelled a lot. She was scary because her trust and respect was hard to earn, and therefore more valuable once you had it.
When Lindsey broke her collarbone Shelby had started working at the stables every afternoon, and mornings too, when one of her parents could drive her. In return Blue's agistment was free. Now that Lindsey was better the two girls worked together. At first Shelby had been nervous because Lindsey's mum could be abrupt. When Mrs Edel was cranky Shelby felt ashamed, as though she had let herself down even more than she had disappointed Mrs Edel. That was much worse than yelling.
What would she say when she found out about the pony?
Shelby glanced over at Clint and he winked at her. What did that mean? Did he know they were lying, or was that just a random wink? She tried to remember if he had ever winked at her before. Did he have something in his eye? Should she confess?
Clint was very easygoing. He might not be cranky about it. He could find a way to break it to Lindsey's mum so that she wouldn't be angry.
Nobody said anything. Shelby wondered if she was the only one feeling the weight of the silence in the truck. She squirmed in her seat.
Clint put on the blinker and turned onto Lindsey's street.
Owning up was probably the best option, before things became any more complicated. Shelby opened her mouth and shut it again. She should really talk it through with the others first. She tried to think if there was something cryptic she could say that only the girls would understand.
Ouldshay eway onfesscay?
Clint had been a teenager once. He might know pig Latin. What to do?
Even now that she'd had time to think about it Shelby still thought buying the pony had been a good idea. She was exactly the sort of pony that Shelby would like to own if she was allowed to have more than one. Now she had one and a third horses – even if it was only for a little while. Shelby was looking forward to calling the pony 'my other horse'. She grinned.
If only the adults would give them enough time to explain before they went bananas. When the girls sold her they were sure to get twice the price they'd paid – at least!
They could start their own business buying cheap horses from the sales, doing them up and selling them for four times as much. They could make a tonne of money! Lindsey could teach them how to cut cattle, and walk out properly, and Shelby could handle them on the ground so they had nice manners, and take them out on trails, and Erin could show them how to do flat work in the arena, or jumping. People would line up for all-rounders that were quiet and good for kids.
They could open the 'Shelinderin Pony Training Stud'. They would have hundreds of acres, and post and rail fencing everywhere. They would have five different arenas and long rows of stables. They would wear joddies and matching chappettes all day. They could have stickers made up for people to stick on the back of their floats that said 'I'm a Shelinderin Pony'.
People would beg them to hold workshops to show how they do what they