by Katherine Grace Bond and Sarah E. Bond

Carlos stood in the tack room, knee-deep in reins and horse blankets. Today he was starting his new business, Casper Rides. He planned to trot his horse, Casper, to the field across from the new mall where there were a ton of little kids.

I’ll make a hundred dollars at least, he thought, rummaging through dirty horse gear.

If he combined that with the money he’d made teaching riding lessons, he’d be able to go on the Sasquahatchie Trail Ride Weekend with Chester McMurty, author of Trailing Along With Horses.

One problem though; his former best friend, Miles, had shown up.

"What’s taking you so long?" Miles hollered from the stable. "Doesn’t Casper need his saddle and whatchamahoochie?"

"I can’t find it," Carlos shouted back.

"The whatchamahoochie?"

"It’s called a bridle, and I found that," Carlos said. "I can’t find the saddle."

Carlos disentangled some lunge lines that were wrapped around his foot.

"Can’t find the saddle?!" Miles squawked.

"How’s that possible? Aren’t saddles pretty big?" He poked his head into the tack room. "Mama macaroni!" he whistled. "How do you find anything in here?"

"It’s not that bad," Carlos picked up a squashed hat. "I know where everything is."

"Everything except the saddle." Miles said. "You know, Carlos, there are more efficient ways to store things."

Miles was such a neat freak: color-coded folders for his classes, bed always made, hair never out of place. Now that he was in middle school and Carlos was still in elementary, Miles knew everything. They used to have a lot of fun together, but now Miles was just annoying.

"Ow!" Carlos’ shin hit something hard. "I’ve found the saddle. See?"

Taken for a Ride

The new mall looked strange, looming up amid pastureland and the tiny country store. The town of Murphy was growing fast. Carlos steered Casper into the field and stopped.

"You can get down now," Carlos told Miles.

He hadn’t been able to get rid of Miles. And truth be told, Carlos wasn’t totally unhappy to have him along. Miles was a good organizer. When they were little, they’d sold cookies and lemonade on the street corner. Miles had set things up and handled the money. And he hadn’t been annoying about it then. Well, not as annoying.

Miles slid off Casper shakily. "Okay," he said. "Put the sign I made exactly 5 feet from the road. From that angle, the cars will see it from at least 50 yards."

"The sign?" Carlos asked. He didn’t want to admit that he had forgotten the sign after all Miles’ work painting the neat red letters. "I don’t think I need the sign. I’ll just . . . announce it."

Carlos cupped his hands to his mouth like a circus barker. "Casper Rides!" he yelled to passing cars. "Casper Rides! Two dollars!"

"Carlos, you can’t run a business like that! No one will stop. What happened to my marketing plan?"

"This is the new marketing plan."

Miles sat in the grass. "It’ll never work."

When a green van pulled up, Carlos kept himself from cheering in victory. Carlos’ neighbor, Mrs. Shapiro got out. Her daughter Emma took riding lessons from Carlos. Three more cars and a truck pulled up behind them.

"Hey, Emmy, do you want to ride Casper?" Emma nodded, her brown eyes shining. "Okay." Carlos lifted her up. Casper snorted with happiness.

Six other little girls lined up with their mothers. "The Brownie troop," Mrs. Shapiro said. "We’re on our way to the mall, but this looks like something the girls will enjoy."

Carlos led Emmy and Casper around in a circle. Miles began directing traffic.

Two more cars pulled up, along with four boys on bikes.

This is great! Carlos thought. I’ll make a fortune!

Miles went to work organizing the line of kids. "Everyone gets a six-minute ride," he said, checking his watch

. Carlos helped Emma down and Mrs. Shapiro handed him a $10 dollar bill. "I’m sorry, but it’s the smallest I have."

"Right," Carlos said, thinking fast. "Um. Now for some change."

"Where’s the cash box?" Miles sorted through Carlos’ backpack and found it contained only a sandwich and a bag of Doritos. He shook his head. "Carlos, in any retail business, you start with bills and coins small enough to make change."

"I know that." Carlos groped in his pockets and pulled out 16 gum wrappers, five screws, 11 paper clips and 46 cents covered in a half-melted candy bar.

Mrs. Shapiro turned pale. "Consider it a donation."

Miles opened his mouth to offer more advice.

"Wait!" Carlos yelped. "I’ll go get some change."

He dashed toward the mall, leaving Miles to mind Casper, all the mothers and a dozen tidily lined-up customers.

Horseplay

After what seemed like an hour, Carlos found a change machine. As he turned around, he saw Miles running toward him.

"We have a difficulty," Miles huffed.

"Difficulty?" Carlos felt his stomach sink.

"Casper . . . well . . . he caused a problem."

Carlos started to run with Miles. "Is everybody okay?" he panted.

Miles slowed down. "Everybody? Oh, yeah. The people all left after you did. It’s just that Casper, well . . . he made a mess on the ground."

Carlos stopped in front of a planter box. "Miles, all horses go to the bathroom."

"But there are scooper laws," Miles continued. "And I don’t think our business should be violating any city codes."

"Our business?" Carlos’ mouth dropped open. "Our business?! This started out as my business until you invited yourself and started making up all these rules."

Miles reddened. "It appeared as if you needed my expertise," he said stiffly. For a moment, Carlos thought he looked hurt.

They took a shortcut through Fashion Sense. Brownies and their mothers waved at them from the girls’ department.

There are most of my customers, Carlos thought. Maybe they’ll come back after they finish shopping.

"Where’d you tie up Casper?" he asked Miles.

"Tie him up?" Miles looked at him blankly. "I told him to stay."

"Stay?!!!" Carlos felt the blood drain from his face. "He’s a horse, not a dog!"

Suddenly, shrieks came from the girls’ department. A rack of clearance bathing suits bumped into the aisle. A tableful of socks crashed to the floor as Brownies, mothers and clerks scattered. Carlos and Miles rounded the corner just in time to see a large white horse stepping carefully over shoe boxes and plastic purses. Casper swung his head around, draped in bathing suits, and whinnied.

At that moment, Carlos understood the word pandemonium: Brownies screaming, socks and bathing suits flying in all directions, security guards shouting into their walkie-talkies, Casper trotting down the aisle as if he was part of a parade.

Carlos tried to grab the lead rope, but couldn’t catch it.

"Casper!" Miles called. "Here, boy! Come on, boy!"

Casper ignored him.

"Horse loose on aisle 12!" came the announcement over the public-address system. Sirens blared. Casper turned at the escalator and headed for cosmetics. Carlos and Miles charged after him, along with the security guards.

Then Casper stopped. Standing next to the perfume was little Emma Shapiro, holding out an apple from her lunch sack. "Come on, Casper," she sang out. "Come have a treat."

Friendly Advice

Carlos pulled out the cash box from under straw, boots and riding crops. Fifty-two dollars and 76 cents. It would take awhile to pay off the damages to Fashion Sense. Chester McMurty and his trailing horses would have to wait until next year.

Miles sat on the floor, drawing a chart. "Okay," he said. "Here’s how it happened: Casper escaped because you went into the mall, which was caused by you leaving the cash box because you couldn’t find it, which was caused by this disaster of a tack room, which was caused by the utter chaos of your life."

"Don’t forget that you didn’t tie him up."

"Well, yeah," Miles said. "That too."

"You can be really annoying sometimes, Miles."

"I know," Miles replied. He was quiet for a minute. "You know," he said finally, playing with a piece of straw, "middle school’s kind of boring. Grade school was more fun. We had some awesome times together."

"Yeah," Carlos said. "We did."

"Carlos?" Miles stopped. He slid the chart into the trash. "How about if I help you get organized in here? Then do you think you could teach me what to do with a horse?"

Carlos felt a slow smile coming to his face. Maybe he was getting the old Miles back.

"Let’s start with hanging up that saddle," Miles said. "Wherever it goes."

	Q: How do bees telephone one another? A: They just give each other a buzz. Zephan S., 9, Kentucky Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe