Stables S.O.S. Read Online Free PDF Page B

supposed to look after them.” ( That sounds a bit accusing , I thought, but it was too late to take it back.) “So please, please can you help us save Bambi and Laurel Farm? We’ve tried to think of something ourselves, but we just can’t. Please help us.”
    Nothing happened, of course. I didn’t get a blinding burst of inspiration. No grand plan slammed into my head. Epona just sat there silently in her familiar, ancient, stone way, and I felt rather stupid. But then an idea did whoosh into my brain (and who could say that Epona hadn’t put it there?). Didn’t ancient cultures make sacrifices to their gods? I wondered what sort of sacrifice I could make. Slaughtering some animal was way, way out, of course, and I couldn’t think of anything I owned that might be worth something. I had no jewelry, no antique furniture. I couldn’t even think of anything I owned that I particularly valued, even if it wasn’t actually worth money. That was what sacrifices were all about, weren’t they? What did I have that I most valued?
    Looking around my room my eyes zoomed immediately to my most treasured possessions—the ribbons and sash I’d won at Brookdale in the Sublime Equine Challenge, my beautiful blue sash that I had always, always dreamed of winning. I remembered how I’d felt when it had been presented to me and Drummer, how proud I had been, how elated I had felt galloping around the famous arena wearing it, just like the top show jumpers.
    I felt my heart beating in my chest—it was as though my whole body was throbbing. I felt as though my heart was in my ears, thumping away like a drum.
    Drum.
    Drummer.
    Which was more important to me, some ribbons or my pony? No contest. Besides, it was Drum who had won the sash for me and, whatever happened, I would always remember the day when we’d won it. No one could ever take the memory away, my feeling of pride, my absolute joy. Those feelings could never be lost, never be sacrificed.
    Without allowing myself time to think about it, I leaped onto my bed, ripped my beautiful blue sash with its silver writing from the wall, and pausing only to throw Epona a pleading glance and show her what I held in my arms, I ran downstairs, bursting through the living room door to see Mom and Mike turn toward me in surprise. Without meeting their eyes or pausing to give myself a chance to think again, I hurled my prized Brookdale sash into the fire where it immediately burst into flames with a crackle and hiss.
    Mom was on her feet in a second, looking at me in bewilderment. “What on earth are you doing?” she shrieked, seizing the fire tongs and lifting the shrinking and spitting sash already engulfed by orange and red flames. “That’s your Brookdale sash, Pia!” she cried, like I didn’t know.
    â€œLeave it. Let it burn!” I implored her. “And please, please don’t ask me why!” I added, turning to gallop back up to my room, failing to fight back the tears.
    It’s only a piece of old ribbon , I told myself, throwing myself onto my bed and sobbing. It’s not a sacrifice if it doesn’t mean anything. That’s what a sacrifice is all about.
    â€œPia, are you all right, love?” It was Mom, tapping on my door.
    â€œI’m OK, Mom, honest,” I managed to say, between gulps. “I just want to be left alone.”
    I heard her go back downstairs. She was great at giving me space. After Dad had run off with Skinny Lynny, she knew the value of working through things alone. I rolled over, and even though I didn’t want to, I looked up at the wall. Even with the three beautiful ribbons still hanging there it looked empty. The hole where my beautiful sash had, until moments ago, been hanging seemed vast. After rummaging around in the closet, I pulled out a poster of a beautiful black horse and stuck it in the gaping hole. It didn’t look right. It didn’t