That same weekend, Sam and I waved good-bye as Mom’s Dodge Dart disappeared in a cloud of red dust. Sam wanted to go to the barn, but I insisted on homework first.

Sam led the way to her bedroom. As soon as she closed the door, I blurted out, “I know about Coach and Miss Holt.”

“Ssssh,” Sam whispered. She grabbed an album from the stack on her bookshelf and put Frampton Comes Alive! on her record player. She turned up the volume. “Now we can talk.”

Sam and I lay on the floor facing each other. I told her about Mom’s dinner party. How I had watched Coach and Miss Holt, and about my talk with Mom after they’d gone home.

“I’ve known for a couple of months,” Sam said. “Your mom’s right. Most people pretend they’re just roommates.”

That gave me a sad, achy feeling. The same way I felt when I thought about Dad.

“At least they have the guts to be together,” Sam said. “Think about it that way.” She jumped to her feet and played air guitar along with Peter Frampton. “C’mon.”

I shook my head, afraid I’d look silly.

“How about a duet?” Sam asked.

She kept on until I gave in. We belted out “Show Me the Way” like two seventh-grade rock stars. I was self-conscious, but only a little bit. I wanted to spend every spare minute with Sam. When I was away from home, it was easier to forget about Eric and Dad.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

After making popcorn, Sam and I went back to her room to study Johnny Tremain. “The language is so old-fashioned,” she complained.

“Yeah, but that’s part of the fun. Listen while I imitate Mrs. Lapham.”

When I finished reading, Sam clapped. “You should try out for the school play. I bet you’d get a part.”

I threw a piece of popcorn at her. “I’d probably pee my pants or die of stage fright.”

Sam laughed and threw a handful of popcorn at me. “I bet you’d be great.”

I wished I had as much confidence in myself as Sam had in me. Maybe that’s why I liked her so much. Around her, I forgot to be scared.

After we finished our homework, Sam and I ran toward the fenced-in pasture. Sweat trickled down my back. It was a lot hotter in North Carolina than in New Jersey.

Sam leaned against the gate. She put her fingers to her lips and gave a shrill whistle. Penelope galloped toward us. I had to admit she was even more beautiful than in pictures.

“Hey, Penny. How you doing, girl?” The horse pricked her ears toward Sam and lowered her head. Sam climbed onto the lowest rung of the gate so she could reach over and hug her. “Penny’s my best friend in the world.”

It was silly to be jealous of a horse, but I wanted to be Sam’s best friend. “You have a million friends at school. Why do you like Penny more than them?”

“Horses don’t judge,” Sam said. “Penny doesn’t care that I dress like a boy, or about my report card, or if I miss the winning basket. Penny just loves me.”

The breeze had blown Sam’s hair into her eyes. I wanted to take my fingers and brush it back, but I didn’t. “If you’re worried about your clothes, I could go shopping with you.”

Sam shook her head. “I’m more comfortable this way. I feel stupid in a dress.”

She went on petting Penelope and didn’t look at me. I needed to say something, but it had to be just right. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Not one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, because of you I’m on the newspaper staff, and I’m brave enough to ride a horse … at least I think I am.”

Sam reached for my hand. She held it for a couple of seconds before placing it on Penelope’s neck. “No riding today. You and Penny need to get to know each other first.”

“Okay.” My voice came out all scratchy again.

“Ribbit, ribbit,” Sam said.

I cleared my throat. “Ribbit, ribbit,” I answered.

Sam was my best friend, and I hoped someday I’d be hers too.