I’M FINISHED,” Stevie Lake said, licking the last few drops of tomato sauce off her fingers. “Let’s go. I want to get to The Saddlery before it closes.” Stevie—short for Stephanie—and her two best friends, Carole Hanson and Lisa Atwood, were at the mall near their hometown of Willow Creek, Virginia. They had just finished a post-riding-lesson snack at the pizza parlor. “Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. It’s too bad about your bridle,” Lisa told Stevie sympathetically, pulling her wallet out of her backpack. “You haven’t had it very long.” That day in riding class one of the cheek straps on Stevie’s bridle had snapped in two. She was planning to buy a new cheek strap at The Saddlery, the tack shop at the mall. “I know. But I’m not surprised. I bought it secondhand, and it was pretty well worn when I got it.” Stevie shrugged. “But it was the best I could afford.” Carole peered into her change purse glumly. “Speaking of affording things, I hope I can afford that pizza I just ate,”
