After school I make time for a round pen lesson with Lucky. Horses have to be trained from both sides of their bodies. Mom says horses, like people, have one brain with two lobes. The difference is that people’s brains send messages back and forth, side to side. Horses have more trouble sending messages from one side to the other. So, just because a horse understands something on the left doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll get it on the right.

I’m pretty sure Lucky is accepting me as her leader. But still, I need to control her movements and speed and know what she’s thinking before I can get her to turn at my signal and change directions.

Wild horses are better than regular or fancy horses when it comes to reading body movements and figuring out what other horses are thinking. Mustangs wouldn’t survive without understanding their herd, who to follow, who to stay away from.

Lucky’s learned to read my signals. But I need to get better at reading hers.

I signal Lucky to canter. Then I twist my hand to slow her to a walk. But I have to turn her by the halter. I start with an inside turn, then send her off in the opposite direction.

I do this several times—back and forth, until I don’t need to guide her by the halter. Before long, she understands the twist of my hand.

This is the best Lucky has ever performed. Thank you, God. And thanks for Lucky.

As I’m brushing her, I realize something. “I really do love you, Lucky.”

It’s fun to see her getting my signals. It’s cool that she wants to please me. She’s making me her leader.

I hug her neck, and she lets me. I love this Mustang, but not because she’s performing for me. I’d love her if she never picked up on another signal. And I finally realize something. Lucky may not be one of the beautiful horses, but she’s beautiful to me.

Mom calls me in to get ready for the art show. I wish we didn’t have to go.

As I’m showering, I remember Mom telling Lizzy and me that she was smiling because she loved Nafka, even though the Arabian acted up. And Lizzy, being Lizzy, pictured God smiling down at us—for no reason, for nothing we’d done. That’s what she drew.

Note to self: Maybe I’m starting to get it. Maybe God loves me whether I draw a perfect horse or an octopus-horse.

Lizzy hollers for me to hurry up.

I throw on clothes and cram my feet into a pair of Lizzy’s shoes since mine are covered in mud. Then before I leave my room, I grab the octopus.

We are some of the first ones at the school for the art show.

Mrs. Davis greets us at the door. “Welcome! Why, you even beat our judges.” She looks outside like she’s hoping the judges are right behind us.

“Do you want us to go out and come back later?” Dad asks.

“Of course not!” she answers. “The judges did a first pass this afternoon. It shouldn’t take long for them to finish. You go help yourself to cookies and juice.”

Small round tables are covered with trays of treats. Dad loads a paper plate with fudge and brownies. Lizzy and Mom follow him.

“I’ll be right back,” I say. “I need to check on something.”

I stroll up and down the aisles. Bulletin boards have been set up. Our pictures are posted on both sides. Finally, I find mine. I compare my traced horse with the other pictures. I bet I’d get an excellent or even a superior for it.

I can almost see Mom and Dad smiling like crazy at my blue-ribbon picture.

But I wouldn’t be smiling. Even though God wouldn’t love me less for cheating, neither of us would be happy about that ribbon.

I glance up and down the aisle. Then I take down the Arabian. And up goes my octopus-horse.