‘Yeah, okay, I’ll tell Laura I can’t go riding,’ I finally say.

‘Excellent decision!’

Immy chatters on for a bit, making plans for Saturday, and I distractedly stroke Journo’s soft fur, wondering if I’ve done the right thing. I love Immy like she’s my sister, but sometimes I wonder if she gets her way a bit too much. But then I imagine how much fun we’ll have and I’m sure Laura will be fine about it. At least, I hope she will be.

‘Hey, Laura!’ I’ve been looking for Laura all morning and finally found her in the queue to buy hot chips at lunch. ‘Um … about riding …’ I start to say.

But before I can get it out, she interrupts me. ‘Hey, guess what! I’ve arranged for some of the other anti-country music fans in town to come round in the afternoon. Thought we could play some music after we ride.’

The cafeteria man hands her a bucket of chips and she carefully smothers only one side in sauce. Then she holds them out. ‘Left you some!’

‘Thanks,’ I say, but I’m not really hungry. I don’t know how to tell her I’m not coming on Saturday. Now that she’s organised for other people to be involved too, I feel even worse about letting her down. Plus it sounds like it would have been heaps of fun.

I take a big breath. ‘The thing is, Saturday’s tricky.’

Laura moves aside so that someone else can get food. Then she frowns at me while dropping a saucy chip into her mouth. ‘Why?’

‘My friend Immy is coming for the day,’ I blurt.

Laura shrugs. ‘She can come too,’ she replies, like it’s all sorted.

The thought of Immy in gumboots is crazy enough. Riding a horse is a stretch too far.

I laugh. ‘Immy can’t ride. But she sings and plays guitar.’

‘Well, she can hang out at the house while we ride and then she can come and jam,’ says Laura, like it’s no big deal. I know how Immy will feel if I tell her she has to wait around for me to have a ride.

‘I’m not sure,’ I say, trying to gather my words, but Laura has started talking about music. As far as she’s concerned, the problem is solved.

It looks like Immy is just going to have to accept that I’ll be riding for a bit. That will be interesting.

Mum was going to drive me to the station this morning to meet Immy, but I decided I’d walk down. I thought it might be nice to head back through town and show Immy where my school is and stuff like that. It feels like ages since I’ve seen my bestie, and now that she’s almost here, I can’t wait, although I am a bit worried about how she’ll react to the riding news.

The train pulls in and I see Immy waiting by the door. She’s the first one out and she runs squealing down the platform towards me. She smothers me in an almighty hug and her guitar bashes against my legs, making me laugh and jump back at the same time.

‘I’ve missed you!’ Immy says, tugging on the zip of my puffer jacket. ‘You look all country!’ I’m wearing gumboots and old jeans and I guess I do look a bit scruffier than I used to. Immy shivers. ‘It’s freezing here!’

‘There’s some snow on the way, apparently!’ I tell her, laughing. ‘I did warn you to wear something warm!’

‘I know. I bought this especially,’ Immy says, showing me her fancy new black jacket. It’s fitted and stylish, of course, but all wrong for around here. ‘So,’ Immy says, expectantly. ‘What are we doing first?’

‘Um … I thought we could walk through town,’ I say, wondering how to break the news about the riding.

‘Great,’ says Immy, as we start walking. ‘And then we’ll hole up at your place in front of the fire and make scones!’

I take a deep breath. ‘About that … Laura’s really keen for me to ride with her so I thought you could hang out at the house for an hour. Then she’s arranged for some people to come over and jam. You have your guitar, might be fun!’ I say all this without looking at her, so that hopefully she’ll just agree.

Immy stops walking.

‘I didn’t just catch the train for two hours to sit somewhere while you ride, Mack!’ she says.

‘I know. But it’s not for long. You could hang out with Mum or Granny. You could even come riding!’

‘I thought we were going to have a fun day in the country together. Just you and me,’ Immy replies, sounding hurt. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages.’

I stop walking and turn to look at her. ‘Sorry, I just didn’t know how to tell Laura.’

‘I’ll tell her then.’

Immy’s voice is cold. I know she’s disappointed and I understand why, but she’s the one who insisted I change my plans.

‘It’s just for an hour,’ I point out.

‘I don’t want to jam with other people,’ Immy retorts.

‘But you can meet Laura. You’ll like her …’

Immy shakes her head. ‘I don’t want to meet her. I came to see you but I can see you’ve replaced me. And, to make it worse, you actually expect me to hang out with my replacement!’ Immy shakes her head. ‘If you didn’t want me to come, you should have just told me.’

Anger rushes through me. Immy always does this. She twists things to make me feel bad. But I don’t want to have an argument here on the street, so I suck down my feelings. ‘Let’s go home and have scones and talk,’ I tell her. ‘I’m not going riding until after lunch anyway.’

But Immy doesn’t budge. ‘If you’re going riding then I’m catching the next train home.’

Lots of thoughts swirl through my head. Usually in this situation I just give in to Immy. Should I do it now?

I start nodding and Immy smiles. She thinks I’m just going to change my plans. Like always. But since I’ve moved here, away from Immy, I’ve been discovering I can do things without her. I can make friends, stand up to people and make my own choices. I don’t want to do things just to please Immy – or anyone else. I can feel the pressure building up in my chest and I know I’m about to blow.

‘Immy, you’re my best friend and of course I want to hang out with you. But I also want to go riding. It’s one of the reasons I moved to the country. I’m sorry you have to hang out while I ride, but it’s only for an hour. I’ve waited for you plenty of times. I want to jam too, because that’s how I can meet new people. It’s been hard moving here and leaving all my friends behind.’ This comes out in one big rush, and then I feel really weird because I never would’ve thought I’d have the courage to say it.

‘It hasn’t been easy for me either!’ Immy yells, her face bright red. ‘I never wanted you to move. I miss you. I’ve tried to be positive but I hate that you’re here in this stupid place.’

For once, I’m not scared of arguing. I don’t want to just make everything okay again. I want Immy to understand how I feel. She’s obviously waiting for me to back down and say I’ll change my plans for her. But I won’t. Not this time. I’m going riding and if she doesn’t like it then she can leave.

Furiously, Immy turns around and starts walking off. She’s heading in the wrong direction for the return train, though. For a second I consider not telling her. I want her to wait in the cold in the wrong place. But then I give in. Just a little.

‘Immy!’ I call out. ‘You need the other platform.’ I point across to the other side.

‘Right,’ she says, barrelling past me.

I am exhausted and flat, like all the air has been sucked out of me. Usually we have little mini fights and then I smooth everything over. But this feels different. This time I’m not prepared to back down. But does that mean our friendship is over? It’s an awful thought.

I watch Immy march through the train station doors and onto the road, so she can cross to the right platform. Her head is down and she’s watching the ground. I feel really sad. We’ve been through so much and the thought of never speaking to her again is horrible.

This fight feels final, like something’s shifted and I’m not sure how to move it back, or even if I want to. I tuck my hands into my pockets and look around, still hoping Immy will come back. But she’s gone.

I’m teary as I head home. On the street I see a man strapping a child into the backseat of his car and it makes me think of Dad. I’m going to Skype him as soon as I get home. Hopefully, if I time it right, Becky might be at yoga and I can have him all to myself for fifteen minutes.

Then I hear my name. I look round and see Immy hurrying up behind me.

‘I can’t go now!’ she shouts. ‘I’m starving!’

Despite how frustrating she is, I start laughing at the sight of her cold pink cheeks and her guitar case swinging around as she hurries towards me. I sniff away my tears.

‘Okay, I’ll meet your friends …’ Immy says. ‘I’ll even jam … but I’m not horse-riding! Not for anyone,’ she says as she reaches me. ‘But I’d never forgive myself if we stopped being friends just because I was being too sensitive.’

I grin at her. ‘Is that an apology, Imogen Reynolds?’

‘I believe it is.’

‘Wow! First time for everything.’

She hits me playfully on the arm. And this time, when she squashes me in a giant, Immy-style hug, she puts down her guitar case first so that nothing comes between us. We giggle and she apologises again and together, we plan the rest of our day. And I couldn’t be happier.