I’d had Drummer tacked up for over half an hour. You can imagine how he felt about that! “Hi there, Pumpkin!” shouted Dad, once he’d parked the car next to Sophie’s luxury horse trailer. I’m probably getting a bit old to be called that. I mean, it had been OK when I was six. Would Dad still be calling me Pumpkin when I was sixteen, or eighteen, or really old, say twenty-one? When Skinny Lynny got out of the car I couldn’t stop my mouth from becoming a black hole. She was wearing bronze-colored breeches and the latest Sublime Equine lime-green polo shirt. Long, leather riding boots made her walk as though she had no knees and her long, blond hair spilled out from under a top-of-the-range blue velvet riding hat. I thought this session on Drum was a tryout to decide whether she was going to take up riding? She looked fairly committed to me. At least four-hundred-dollars committed, and my dad would have paid for it. I heard a gulp behind me. “Check her out!” Drummer exclaimed.
