The next day, Robin threw her sketchbook on the den floor. “I’m tired of drawing.”

“Want me to turn on the television for you?” I asked.

Robin shook her head no.

“I could read to you.”

“I’m tired of listening.”

“Well, stop complaining!” I yelled.

My arms and legs started to itch again. Robin was having a boring summer, and no matter how hard I tried to be a perfect big sister, I couldn’t be one. Today wasn’t the first time I’d yelled at her. I offered to bake some brownies to make up for it.

Robin stuck her bottom lip out and scowled. “Don’t put any nuts in my brownies.” Since she knew pecans were my favorite, nutless brownies were my payback for yelling.

I went into the kitchen and added an egg and some oil to the brownie mix. Then I threw in a big handful of pecans. I dipped a spoon into the batter for a little taste. “Ummm.” I had a powerful urge to eat a whole spoonful. And then another one. I sat down on the kitchen floor with the bowl. I shoved spoonful after spoonful into my mouth. Even when I was full, I kept eating. I ate until it was all gone, and then I used my finger to clean every speck of icing from the empty bowl.

My stomach pooched out, and I felt like one of Grandpa’s hogs being fattened for slaughter. I washed the dishes and mixed up another batch of brownies for Robin. This time without nuts.

“Sarah Beth,” Mama called. “Something sure smells good.”

I bent over double with stomach cramps.

Mama hurried across the kitchen floor. “What’s wrong?”

“Stomachache.”

Mama reached into the cabinet and found the terrible-tasting pink medicine. I had known all along the batter would upset my stomach, but I hadn’t been able to stop eating it. In some strange way, punishing myself eased the guilt, at least a little.

Since Robin couldn’t sit up, she had to eat her meals in bed. While Mama fed her, I got into the habit of sitting cross-legged by Robin’s cot. Before long, the whole family was eating in the den.

One night after supper, Dad said, “We could all use a little cheering up. Mama and I have been talking about it, and we’re gonna buy a pony, just as soon as we can find a really gentle one.”

Robin clapped her hands together. Even her toes were twitching. “I wish we could get the pony right now!”

I had finally found a way to make Robin happy, but I still didn’t know what to do about Ruby. We’d never stayed mad this long before.

“Fencing comes first,” Mama said. “Starting tomorrow, Dad and Grandpa are gonna build a fence. That way the pony will have a place to run and play.”

“He needs a barn too,” Robin said.

Dad shook his head. “This winter the pony can stay at Grandpa’s. Maybe we can afford a barn next year.”

“I can’t wait to have a real pony!” Robin said.

I felt the knot in my stomach ease. If Robin got well AND got a pony, maybe that would be enough to make up for the accident.

“Do you think Ruby would come see my pony?” Robin asked. “She hasn’t been here all summer.”

I guess Robin missed her too.

Using a posthole digger, Dad tunneled into the red dirt, making holes two inches deep and about eight inches apart. Then Drucker, Hiram Fletcher’s grandson, filled the area around the post with dirt and tamped it down with a shovel. Sweat soaked through his light-blue shirt.

I pulled the curtain back and watched them work. Mostly I watched Drucker. He was really cute.

“Why do you keep looking out the window?” Robin asked.

“No special reason.” I combed my hair and put on some Pink Passion lip gloss. “I’m gonna carry a pitcher of sweet tea outside. They’re taking a break.”

The muscles in Drucker’s arms bulged. He was at least a head taller than me and had wavy brown hair.

“That tea hits the spot,” Dad said. “How about a refill? Hellooo, Earth to Sarah.”

“What? Oh … tea … sure.”

“One of these days, I’m planning to build a barn,” Dad told Drucker. “I’d love to work on it now, but I need to wait because of Robin’s medical bills.”

Drucker held out his glass for a refill. I noticed his eyes were blue like the ocean. “If you need extra help, I’m good with a hammer,” he said. “I’m saving to buy a minibike.”

Dad wiped his face with a red bandana and sized up Drucker. “You’re a hard worker, and you’ll be even stronger by next year.” He stuck out his hand. “Young man, you’ve got a deal.”

Drucker shook Dad’s hand and grinned. His teeth were white enough to be in a Colgate commercial.

I thought life in the country was looking up, until I noticed Drucker staring at my legs. I had hives again. Why couldn’t I just be a normal girl with a normal crush? Instead, I had a sister in a body cast, an ex–best friend, and a bad case of hives. It was turning out to be the worst summer of my life.

The next morning I took the newspaper and went to see Grandpa. I wanted to ask him about a horse sale at the Tucker Stockyards.

“He’s still doing up the morning chores,” Granny said. “He’ll be in directly. Why don’t I make you some cinnamon toast while you wait on him?”

“Sounds good.” Granny’s cinnamon toast always filled the kitchen with a spicy, buttery scent. Just thinking about it made my mouth water.

“Why do you want to go to a smelly old livestock sale?” Granny asked.

“It’s a horse sale, but it’s held at the stockyard. Maybe we could find a pony there.”

Granny added cinnamon, brown sugar, and a splash of vanilla flavoring to some softened butter. “I didn’t think of that. Usually Grandpa buys cows when he goes to the stockyard.”

I poured myself half a cup of coffee and filled the other half of the cup up with milk. “If we buy Robin a pony, it’ll help her get well. Then I can forget all about the accident.”

Granny spread the softened butter mixture onto the bread. “Pumpkin, that’s not how it works. You can move past the accident, but you’ll never forget it.”

That was not the answer I wanted to hear. Like Ruby’s song, I needed to find a way to let all the bad stuff go. “Granny, have you seen Ruby lately?”

“A few times. She’s been busy practicing with the church choir.”

“I had an argument with her, but I really miss her.”

“About what?”

“Telling secrets and school integration.”

Granny put the cinnamon toast in the oven. “Sarah Beth, there’s a fine line between blacks and whites. School will be easier for you and Ruby if you don’t try to cross over it.”

I sat down at the table with my coffee. “I know it would be easier, but you’ve always told me just because something’s easy don’t make it right.”

Granny frowned, like I was paining her. “I’m just trying to keep you safe,” she said, “safe and happy.”

I reckoned I was safe enough, but I sure wasn’t happy.

While the cinnamon toast baked, Grandpa made his way into the kitchen and washed up. He sat down beside me at the table. “What you got there?” he asked, picking up the newspaper ad.

“A horse sale. Do you think they might have ponies?”

Grandpa took a closer look. “They just might. Let me talk to your dad about it. I’ve got twenty-five dollars just burning a hole in my pocket.”

I bit into my cinnamon toast, but I didn’t enjoy it as much as I usually did. I was thinking too much, about Ruby, and how Granny said I could never forget the accident. I needed to start over, like when I shook my Etch A Sketch and got a nice clean slate.