CHAPTER THREE
Jody

Kiera and Fran went with their father to the feed store.

It was hard to leave Jigsaw, even for a minute, but Mr. Shaw didn’t know what to buy. Kiera and Fran did. They’d wanted a pony for a long time. They’d wanted all the things a pony needs, too.

Ponies need a lot. By the time Fran and Kiera were through shopping, there was a huge pile to go into the car.

Fence posts.

Fence wire.

An electric fence charger. Hay.

A water pail.

Grain.

A grain pail.

Shavings. A shovel. A rake. Fly spray. A lead rope. A hoof pick. Two brushes. A mane comb. A salt brick. Saddle soap.

And two kinds of shampoo.

“I didn’t know ponies needed shampoo,” their father said. “Can we put one back?”

“He’s mostly black,” Fran said. “He needs black pony shampoo.”

“Actually, he’s mostly white,” Kiera said. “So he needs white pony shampoo.”

“Can’t he just borrow some of mine?” their father asked.

“Daddy!” Fran said.

“Don’t say Daddy to Daddy!” Kiera said.

“Fine,” their father said. “Two kinds of shampoo.”

“It must be wonderful to be twins!” the feed store lady said. “You’d never be lonely.”

Fran and Kiera pretended not to hear her.

Back home Mrs. Shaw held Jigsaw’s rope. She watched him eat grass. She listened to the sound of his teeth.

“Wow!” somebody said behind her. “A pony!”

It was Jody Fran and Kiera’s friend from down the street.

“Yes,” Mrs. Shaw said. “Jody, meet Jigsaw.”

Jody patted Jigsaw’s neck. She found more burrs and started to take them out.

Another girl. Another good one. To Jigsaw, this seemed like a very nice neighborhood.

“What a great name!” Jody said. “His black parts and his white parts fit together like a puzzle.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Shaw said. “But they don’t come apart like a puzzle.”

Jody asked, “Are they—”

Mrs. Shaw nodded. “But they’ve always wanted a pony. Maybe they’ll finally learn to share.”

Jody didn’t answer. But she thought Mrs. Shaw was wrong.

Jody was Fran’s best friend. She was Kiera’s best friend, too. She knew how hard it was to be twins because Fran and Kiera told her.

Nobody remembers who’s the oldest—Fran—or the youngest—Kiera. People think they can tell you apart. They’re wrong. Someone is always finishing your sentences, or starting them.

And even though you’re very different—as different as black and white—lots of times you like the same things. The more you like them, the harder it is to share. That was true about jelly beans. It was true about Jody. It was going to be true about Jigsaw.

“But they’re great,” Jody whispered in Jigsaw’s ear. “You’ll love them both, and they’ll love you.”

Jigsaw rubbed his head against Jody. Hugs. Kisses. Whispers. He loved all the girls he’d met today.

The car pulled in, and two voices said, “I’m calling Jody!”

“No, I’m calling her!”

“Calling me what?” Jody asked. “I just met Jigsaw!”

“Midnight,” said Fran.

“Snowflake,” said Kiera.

Jody said, “I love his brown eyes.”

“Me too,” Kiera and Fran said together.

For the rest of the afternoon everyone, including Jody, worked hard. They took turns holding Jigsaw’s lead rope and letting him eat the lawn. They put up fence posts. They put up wire. They took the garden tools out of the shed. They turned it into a stall, and they put in shavings.

The sun went down. Jody went home. Just as it was getting dark, Fran and Kiera led Jigsaw inside the shed. They gave him hay and water and closed the door.

After supper their mother said, “It’s been a big day, girls. Time for bed.”

“I want to say good night to Snowflake.”

“I want to say good night to Midnight.”

“Go ahead,” said their father.

“But—” said Kiera.

“I wanted—” said Fran.

They looked at their plates. More than anything, Fran wanted time alone with Midnight. More than anything, Kiera wanted time alone with Snowflake. But only one of them could have that. They would have to take turns.

Kiera and Fran hated taking turns.

“I understand,” their mother said. “I really do understand.” She reached for the two sticks of spaghetti she always kept handy. “Whoever picks the long spaghetti goes out tonight.”

Kiera and Fran each chose a spaghetti. Kiera got the long one. “Hurray!” She took the flashlight and an apple and ran outside.

“I’m sorry, Fran,” Mrs. Shaw said. “Tomorrow night it’s your turn.”

“I know,” Fran said. She was already marking it on the calendar.

Kiera crossed the dark yard. She opened the stall door. “Hi, Snowflake.”

Jigsaw made a rumbling sound. He was glad to see Kiera and glad to see the apple, too. He reached for it. Crunch munch slobber.

When it was gone, Jigsaw lifted his nose to Kiera’s face. Kiera smelled apple and sweet pony breath. A shiver went down her back. This was just the way she’d always thought it would be.