CHAPTER 30
I STABBED AT Murphy’s bed with a fork, wishing it was the girl who’d “borrowed” a sack of my feed without asking me. I knew exactly who it was—the miserable-looking brunette with the badly put-together pony that tried to bite everyone who walked past its stable. Her feed bin had been empty yesterday evening, and now, magically, it was full.
But it wasn’t just the petty thieving and the bitching behind my back driving me nuts. Yesterday, I hadn’t been able to resist popping Harley over a small fence, and a group of girls had stopped to watch us, leaning on the arena fence.
“You need to push her forward more,” one of them said.
“And sit up a bit. You’ll never do any good if you keep riding like that,” another put in.
Considering I’d watched her demolish half a course on her o
