Once again, Nick was jammed in the back of the Camp Wa-Tonka van.

Driving back to Detroit from northern Michigan, the counselors chattered and laughed and teased. Nick didn't feel shy or left out anymore.

He had done a full summer's work as a junior counselor. He had come to love horses and learned to ride them, especially his favorite horse, Prince. He had made friends with a good rider, Bob Petzer. He had become part of the stories about the camp.

The ride home seemed shorter than the ride to camp. Still, the closer they got to the big city the longer it seemed to take.

Nick was anxious to see his family. He realized he had missed them. He wondered if they still looked the same. He knew he was different.

As they drove along Eight Mile Road, Nick spotted football players in a field. The school year rushed into his mind. Classes would start in ten days. He had to take second-year algebra. First-year algebra was hard enough! Mr. Moore for government. Ugh. What about cross-country?

The van pulled into Eastland Mall's parking lot. Right away, Nick picked out his family among the waiting parents.

Anne Marie, his fourteen-year-old sister, held little Risa on her hip. His dad leaned against their beat-up car, trimming his nails. Nick's mother sat in the front seat with the door open. She was reading a book. Pauly had his arm around Joey's neck, giving him a noogy.

Risa spotted Nick first. Her chubby hand pointed to the back window just before she slid off Anne Marie's hip. By the time Nick untangled himself from the back of the van, four-year-old Risa was wiggling like a happy puppy in front of him. She jumped into his arms.

Nick hadn't seen or felt anyone that small in a long time. Light as a pillow, she snuggled her black poodle curls on his shoulder. He smelled Play-Doh and crayons. They must have been waiting for a while.

"Nicky, Nicky," Pauly whined. "Tell me about Prince, the horse you wrote about."

Nick sighed. He hated his brother's voice.

He was back home, all right. Nothing had changed. But something inside him said, No, a lot has changed. I'm different. They just don't know it yet. I have to tell them.

"Hey, Pauly and Joey," Nick said. He knelt on one knee in front of them. He raised his voice loud enough for his father to hear. "My name is Nick. Call me Nick from now on. Okay? Not Nicky. Nick."

Joey, always quick, was the first to try out his brother's new name. "Hey, Nick," he said. His mouth worked away on a purple sucker. He swallowed loudly before he went on. "Tell us about the horses and the—"

"He'll tell us all about it on the way home," his mother cut in. She squeezed Nick's hand before kissing him on the cheek. She stepped back and tilted her head to one side. "You've grown, haven't you? Tony, come here," she called to her husband.

Nick looked back at the van. He knew that the other counselors would be watching. All summer he had stood up to those guys, paying his dues and earning their respect. And now, this.

"Ma, c'mon, don't," he said.

"Don't 'Ma' me. Stand next to your father. Look at that, he's as tall as you, Tony," Nick's mother said. Then she shoved her fingers in Nick's hair, like a barber before he snips. "Your hair is long. Don't they give you haircuts up there? But, you know, I think you look kinda cute like that. Tony, what do you think?"

"Yeah, he looks good. Missed you, son," Nick's father said. His voice shook with a touch of emotion. He reached an arm across Nick's back, hugged him, and punched him playfully on the shoulder.

He seemed different to Nick. Like he was sad and quiet.

"Know what?" Risa screeched in Nick's ear. When he didn't answer right away, his baby sister grabbed his face with both hands and forced him to look at her. She asked again, "Know what?"

"What?" Nick answered.

"Daddy don't got a job," she announced.

Nick looked a question at his parents.

His mother shrugged. Her palms went up like, What can you do?

His father looked down and slowly nodded his head. "I started unemployment this week. We'll have to see how it goes."

Nick told his stories on the ride home and during dinner. He talked about horses and initiation, Mackinac Island and Tanya, Bob Petzer and movies in Mancelona. His family took it all in.

When he finally stopped talking, it was time for bed. He was surprised at all the comforts of home he had never appreciated before. He only had to walk a few steps from the bedroom to brush his teeth instead of taking a long, cold hike to the bathroom. There was a bathtub, not showers that everybody shared.

"Hey, Ma!" he shouted into the kitchen. "This is great, walking on soft carpet instead of a cold, sandy floor. And I can just turn on a light with a switch instead of looking for a flashlight all the time."

"Glad you appreciate your home, son," his mother said. "Now go to bed."

But when Nick looked into the boys' bedroom and saw his brothers sprawled out on the only bed, he knew there was one thing he was going to miss: his own bed. He was not going to wedge himself between thumb-sucking, bed-wetting brats to be shoved and thumped all night long.

On the way to the hall closet for a pillow and a blanket, he peeked into the girls' room. Anne Marie and Risa slept quietly, gently, in a canopy bed. No snarking and thrashing from them. Dolls lined a wall shelf. Risa clutched a Paddington Bear.

Nick walked silently into the front room. A well-worn couch sat under a half wall shared with the kitchen. He spread his blanket and plumped his pillow.

Then he noticed something else that he hadn't paid attention to before. His parents were loud when they argued in the kitchen.

In the past he would have ignored it. But now he paid attention and noticed the noise. He couldn't tune them out any more than he could tune out a dripping faucet. He tried wrapping the pillow around his ears to muffle the sounds. It didn't work.

"I clear maybe $225 a week from unemployment," his father said. "With Christmas coming. We're gonna be hurtin'."

"What about my sister Josie's brother-in-law, what's his name?" his mother asked. "With the water purifier business?"

"Salvatore. That strunzone? He's always pushing some half-baked idea," Nick's father answered. "Besides, how many times I gotta tell you, Nina? If I'm working some two-bit job, I can't be out looking for a good one."

"So we're stuck," Nick's mother sighed. "Because, of course, you don't want me to work."

"I don't want you to work? Did I say that?" his father asked. "I never said that."

Nick could picture his father: hands raised toward heaven, a hurt look on his face, pleading.

"How come I'm always the bad guy around here?" he asked. "What I said was, you got no skills. With no skills, you can only get part-time jobs. They don't pay nothin'. By the time you pay for the bus, by the time you pay for the babysitter, you got nothin' left. If we're gonna have nothin', I'd rather have you here for the kids. For us."

Way to tell her, Dad, Nick cheered to himself. You bet we want her home, just like it's always been. Who wouldn't?

"No skills," his mother said softly.

Nick didn't like the sound of that. He could imagine her big brown eyes closing down like camera lenses to small black holes that wouldn't let in any light.

His dad knew she was angry, too. He tried to sneak in a few words before the storm. "C'mon Nina, all I'm saying is the kids are used to having you here when they come home."

She ignored him.

"Skills," she said, half to herself. "Maybe you're right, for once."

"Hey, are you taking a cheap shot here?" Nick's father asked.

"Yeah, like you say, I'm only the maid around here," Nick's mother said. "I only take care of five kids. Feed 'em, keep 'em clean and healthy. Make that six kids, counting you."

"Hey!" his father said.

"What I need is more skills," his mother said. "Maybe I should go to school."

"School? You're going the wrong way, Nina," his father said. "School costs money. We need money."

She ignored him again.

"The kids are getting bigger. Risa starts kindergarten. She can stay next door at Mrs. Di Marco's. The boys, too, for that matter. Actually, it might be good for all of them if I wasn't here every minute," Nick's mother said.

That's when Nick stopped listening and started thinking of ways to make sure nothing would change.

He thought about the $200 he had saved that summer. Maybe he could buy school clothes instead of the cowboy boots he wanted so badly. And maybe he could skip cross-country this fall and work instead.

One thing was sure: he didn't want his mother to work. Not if he could prevent it.

About ten the next morning, the phone rang. Anne Marie grabbed it.

"Nick, it's for you!" she called.

Nick stopped in the doorway. He studied his sister for a moment. She had changed over the summer.

Her brown eyes flashed while she talked. Her curly black hair was longer, framing her oval face. She was different. Pretty, actually. And she was flirting with whoever was on the phone.

Nick raised his chin and mouthed, "Who is it?"

Anne Marie put her hand over the phone and whispered, "Bob Petzer. Is he the rider guy from camp?"

"Yeah," Nick said. "Give me the phone."

She hid the phone behind her back. "He sounds cute. I want to meet him," she said.

Nick stuck out his hand. "Give it here," he said. Anne Marie didn't know how shy Bob was, how slow to make friends. "Hey, Bob, what's up?" Nick asked.

A person could always count to three before expecting an answer from Bob.

"Well," he finally said. "I'm going riding today. I wondered if you wanted to come, too."

"Sounds great," Nick said. "Where are we going?"

"It's a riding stable. My sister boards her horse there, and they rent out horses too," Bob said.

"Oh," Nick said. "How much is it?"

"Around $15.00 an hour," Bob said.

Nick cringed. Bob's family had money. If Nick said he couldn't afford it, Petzer would probably offer to pay his way. That wouldn't do.

Like he was reading Nick's thoughts, Bob said, "But we're not going to rent trail horses. We'll just hang out. My sister says the owner might let experienced riders exercise some of the other boarded horses. What do you say?"

"Great! Let's do it," Nick said.

"My sister just got her license. She'll drive," Bob said. "You live near Eastland Mall, right? That's right on the way."

Anne Marie was on the couch, hidden behind her magazine. "I bet he has long, bleached-blond hair and light blue eyes," she said. "Real shy. Maybe a ponytail, too."

Nick was surprised.

"I'm right, I know it," she said, giggling. "C'mon Nick, introduce me to him, okay?"

"Forget it," Nick said. "He's just coming to pick me up. Anyway, when did you start getting interested in my buddies?"

"I'm not going to bite him," she said. She put down her magazine. "He sounds so exciting in all your stories. I just want to meet him."

"Forget it," Nick said again.

He stomped out of the room. He dusted off the garage sale riding boots he had worn all summer. They were still huge on him, and more scuffed than ever. Embarrassing is what they were. But with his dad out of work, he couldn't afford new cowboy boots. He needed his money for school clothes.

Nick shot baskets in the driveway. Anything to keep Bob and his sister from seeing more of Nick's crowded little house than they had to.

After a while he saw a brand-new, red Chevrolet Malibu slowly cruising up the street. Nick waved. To his surprise, Anne Marie joined him at the curb.

Bob rolled down the back window. "All set?" he asked.

"Yep," Nick answered. He ran around to the other side.

"Ahem!" Anne Marie said. "It looks like my brother isn't going to introduce me. Hi, I'm Anne Marie. You're Bob Petzer, right? I talked to you this morning. My brother has told us all about you."

Bob blushed, a pink flush showing under his thin blond hair.

Without waiting for an answer, Anne Marie turned to the driver. "And you must be Bob's sister?"

From where he sat, Nick could only see fine blonde hair that fell across the shoulder of a hunter green riding coat. Bob's sister barely turned her head toward Anne Marie.

Nick caught a quick look: fashion magazine profile, hazel-green eyes, perfect skin, forced smile.

"Allison," she snapped. "We're late. Let's go, guys."

Nick couldn't help staring at Allison. She looked over her left shoulder, flicked the left turn signal, and carefully pulled away from the curb.

"Allison just got this car yesterday, a 16th birthday present from Dad. Nice, huh?" Bob asked.

But Nick wasn't listening. The last time he felt like this was the first time he saw Prince trot around. Prince was just plain beautiful. And so was Allison.

Talking about camp, horses, school, and sports, Nick and Bob forgot about where they were going. At least until the familiar smells of manure, hay, sweat, and leather yanked them from the car.

There was a lot to explore at Shamrock Stables. There were several paddocks, a large pole barn, and three long, connecting buildings. Each was painted white with green trim. Bob and Nick walked from stall to stall like shoppers in a mall.

"I never knew there were so many different kinds of horses," Nick confessed. "I thought most horses looked like the ones we had at camp."

"Look at that guy's long legs," Bob said.

They paused in front of a tall, black gelding. Nick touched a small, flat saddle with metal stirrups hanging next to the stall. It was a strange-looking saddle. Like a pancake.

"That's an English saddle," Bob said. "And he's probably a jumper. I saw bars and fences out back. Maybe we can watch a workout later on."

"Yeah, sure..." Nick stopped mid-sentence.

They both stared at a small-boned bay horse with large, wide-set eyes and a delicate muzzle. It looked just like Cutter, the beautiful pony Bob had been galloping along the highway in front of Camp Wa-Tonka. Then she had swerved toward the highway and the semi truck.

"What's the matter, lads? Is it a ghost you've been seein'?" a woman's voice boomed behind them.

Startled, they turned to face a full-chested woman with a grain sack on her wide shoulder.

"Sure, it's Corky O'Meara's stables you're in," she said. "No ghosts here."

She used her free hand to push a strand of rusty-red hair back under her Stetson hat. Then she reached out to shake hands.

"I'm Bob Petzer. My sister Allison rides here," Bob said.

"To be sure, you're Allison's brother, you are," she said. "And who's this skinny, Eyetalian-looking lad?"

Nick wasn't sure he liked the woman.

"Nick Finazzo," he said.

He shook her hand, squeezing as hard as he could. She squeezed back. It felt like he had caught his hand in a car door.

"Nice place you got," he managed to whisper, fighting back tears.

"Make yourself at home," she said.

"I would," Nick said, still holding his sore hand. "Except I wasn't born in a barn."

Corky looked at him for a long moment. A smile worked its way to the side of her mouth. "You're all right, Mr. Finazzo," she said. "Would you ever give us a hand with this grain?"

"Which hand do you want?" Nick asked. "Only one of them works anymore."

She laughed easily.

I think I'll like it here, Nick thought.

It took the combined strength of both boys to drag the grain sack to the feed bin.

As they emptied the bag, Corky called, "Would you grain the horses in this barn? One can for each horse. Then meet me in Barn Two."

"Now these are what I call camp horses," Nick said as they checked the horses in Barn Two. "They remind me of the horses we rode this summer. But I haven't seen many like Prince or Cutter."

"Looks can be deceiving," Bob answered from a stall marked GUSSIE.

Nick looked inside. Bob was rubbing the nose of a worn-out mare.

"Kind of tired, aren't you, old lady?" Bob said. "When are they going to give you a rest?"

There he goes again, talking to horses, Nick thought.

"Bob, are you done yet?" Corky called from the end of the aisle. She was grooming a compact buckskin. "Easy, Shamus, easy boy," she sang. "Bob, your sister says you're a fair rider, she does. But what about your arm wrestling buddy here?"

Nick looked at his friend like, Well?

After his standard three count, Bob answered, "He's okay."

Thanks a lot, Bob, Nick thought.

"Then let's have the both of you saddle the trail horses," Corky said. "There's a church group coming at noon. Later, I'll be needing a hand with some of the boarded horses. What do you say to that?"

"Sure!" Nick and Bob answered together.

"By the way," Bob said. "What's the name of that bay back in Barn One? Looks like it has Arabian blood."

"Looks like? She's pure Arabian, lad," Corky said. "A real beauty, is our Jasmine. Jas for short."

"Could I give her a workout, please?" Bob asked.

"Mind you, the owner doesn't want just anybody riding his Jas," Corky said. "Tell you what. Why don't you groom her? Get to know each other first. Maybe later, when I get back from the trail ride, we'll see. Come to think of it, I could use a tail gunner. Either of you lads followed a trail ride before?"

"That's me," Nick volunteered.

"There's five bucks in it for you, how's that?" Corky asked.

"Hey, I'd do it for nothing, but I need to make all the money I can," Nick said.

"I can always use help around here. See me later. Maybe we can work something out," Corky said.

Nick could get to like this lady, after all.

"By the way, we've got a swap box in the store out front," Corky said. "You might trade those canoes you're wearing for some real Western boots. And pick out a used helmet while you're at it. Tell 'em Corky sent you."

Nick could get to like her a lot.

Mrs. Petzer had packed a picnic basket for lunch with sandwiches, plaid napkins, and matching paper plates. After lunch, Bob and Nick bridled and saddled fifteen trail horses.

One red-and-white pinto, Casey, looked a little like Prince, his favorite horse from camp. Two or three of the trail horses might have made exciting mounts if they hadn't been bored numb by a steady stream of first-time riders.

Twice a minute, Nick looked at his new, secondhand cowboy boots. They were black, size ten, slightly large, easily snugged with an extra pair of socks. With new heels and a little neatsfoot oil, they would last a long time. Corky sure knew how to make a guy feel good.

Nick was buffing a boot on the back of his pant leg. A yellow school bus with Mercy Tabernacle lettered on the side pulled into the parking lot. A dozen teenagers stepped off.

"Send them to the office to register, would you, Nick?" Corky asked. "Then bring the horses out to the back pasture."

Two of the girls were having problems getting into the saddle. First the tall girl faced the front of the horse, stuck her right foot into the stirrup, and started up. Both girls giggled when it became clear she would be facing the horse's rear end that way.

The short girl gripped the saddle horn with one hand. She hopped on one leg trying to aim her left foot into the stirrup.

Nick wondered if they were as helpless as they looked or if they were just putting on a show.

One of the boys swaggered over, sweating in his varsity jacket.

"Here, let me show you how to get on," he called out, louder than he needed to. Nick caught a quick look at Rod embroidered on his left chest.

"You face the back end of the horse like this," Rod said in a take-charge, no-nonsense voice. "Turn the stirrup toward you, put your left foot in, and swing up."

The taller girl mounted easily. The other girl managed to get one foot in the stirrup. She wobbled awkwardly on one leg.

Rod slapped both hands under her butt and heaved her into the saddle. He clenched his teeth and nodded like he was thinking, It's a tough job, but thank God I'm around to do it.

Nick felt right at home in the saddle as they trotted along a leafy trail. Casey, the Prince look-alike, had a smooth, swinging gait. To check out his canter, Nick held the gelding at a walk for a minute. Then he nudged him into a sweet, rocking-chair lope.

The line of riders came out from the woods to face Shamrock barns, two fields away. Suddenly Gussie, Rod's horse, broke for home at a fast trot.

"Whoa! Whoa! You dumb nag!" Rod yelled. He leaned back in the saddle, pulling on the reins.

Nick almost laughed out loud watching Rod. Rod's elbows flapped like wings, bouncing and slamming into the saddle. Then Nick remembered his duty to the customer.

He chucked Casey in the ribs and galloped at an angle to cut them off. Gussie came to a two-foot drop-off between the fields. She gathered herself and took a little hop before going on, clueless to the noisy rider on her back.

Halfway across the field, Nick and Casey cut in front of Gussie. Gussie slowed to a walk but went on toward the barn.

"Turn her," Nick told Rod.

Rod jerked one rein, then the other. "It won't steer," he said angrily.

"You're not giving her the right signals," Nick said.

"Get lost, punk," Rod said.

Nick took a deep breath. He reminded himself to be nice to the paying customer.

"Put the reins in one hand and pull to one side 'til she responds," he said.

Gussie plodded on toward the barn. Corky came into view. She seemed too large for her horse, like a basketball player on a mountain bike.

"What's the problem, lads?" Corky asked.

"Dumb horse almost killed me," Rod said. "Galloping for the barn. Jumped off a cliff. And now it won't get back with the others."

Corky's cheeks colored. Her lips thinned in an obvious attempt to control herself.

"Well," she said, "these things happen from time to time."

Giggles floated across the field. The rest of the group was watching.

Rod snarled, "I'll teach you, you dumb, stubborn nag!"

He whipped Gussie across the ears and jerked her head from side to side.

Corky grabbed Rod under the armpits and pulled him out of the saddle. She held him there, feet kicking in midair. Then she dropped him.

"You won't be abusing me horses," Corky hissed.

Rod bounced up, chin thrust out, helmet over one eye. "What kind of nags you renting here?" he shouted. "Only thing they're good for is running back to the barn. I want my money back!"

Corky didn't say a word. Like a stunt rider in a rodeo, she swung onto Gussie without touching the stirrups. She clucked her tongue twice. The mare took off at a gallop away from the barn.

In full view of the church group, Corky checked and turned the old mare. She wove back and forth at a slow canter between invisible barrels in her own Speed and Action show.

Stopping in front of Nick, Corky dismounted. She handed him the reins.

"Would you take her back to the barn, Nick, and rub her down good?" she asked.

With that, she got on Shamus and rode off toward the head of the line to finish the ride.

Nick looked back to see Rod standing in the middle of the field with his hands on his hips, glaring angrily.