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ridden exceptionally well to beat Carole Hanson. She’s a wonderful rider,” Mrs. Atwood remarked. She, like the other Pine Hollow parents, was used to hearing about Carole’s successes.
    “Mom!”
Lisa whispered, mortified.
    “Oh, that’s okay,” said Andrea. “I was surprised I beat Carole in the first class, too. Everybody has told me how good she is. I’m sure the only reason I won was that she wasn’t feeling well.”
    “Lisa tells me that you’re starting at the juniorhigh,” Mrs. Atwood continued. “I think you’ll find it’s an excellent school.”
    “My mom has to say that,” Lisa said apologetically. “She’s the head of the P.T.A.”
    Andrea didn’t seem to find the joke funny. She stared straight ahead, barely nodding.
    Mrs. Atwood gave Lisa a reproving look. “Do you think your mother or father would like to join the P.T.A.?”
    Andrea opened her mouth, then seemed to hesitate. “I—”
    “It’s not a big time commitment,” Mrs. Atwood pressed on. “We have meetings once a month. In fact, there’s one this coming Wednesday. Why don’t I give your mother a call?”
    “No! Don’t do that!” Andrea cried.
    Mrs. Atwood turned her head around in surprise.
    “My mother’s dead!” Andrea blurted out.
    Lisa gulped for air. She could hardly believe what Andrea had just said. She could see her mother was at a loss for words, too. Mrs. Atwood pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. She turned to Andrea. Finally, she spoke. “Andrea, I’m so terribly sorry. I had no idea.”
    “I know. I never know how to tell anyone,” Andrea said in a whisper.
    “When did she die?” Mrs. Atwood asked gently.
    “A year ago,” Andrea said. “She—she was in a car accident. It was the middle of winter, and the streets were icy.”
    Mrs. Atwood put a comforting hand on Andrea’s. After a few minutes of silence, she started the car and drove on. Lisa felt like an idiot. She still couldn’t think of anything to say. She felt so sorry for Andrea! The only person who would understand what Andrea had gone through was Carole. Carole had lost her mother to cancer a few years before. Lisa was in such a daze that she hardly knew when they pulled up outside Andrea’s house. She looked out the window. The house was small and dark. It didn’t look as if anyone was home.
    “I hate to leave you alone, dear,” Mrs. Atwood said. “Why don’t you come to our house for dinner?”
    Lisa felt a rush of gratitude toward her mother for being so nice.
    “No—no, thank you. I’m used to coming home alone,” Andrea said. “See?” She reached underneath her shirt and pulled out a key on a ribbon. “I can let myself in.”
    Despite Mrs. Atwood’s arguments, Andrea seemed determined to stay by herself. Lisa and her mother watched from the car as she walked up to the houseand disappeared through the front door. In a minute or two, a light went on inside and they saw Andrea wave.
    As they drove home, Lisa was silent. She couldn’t begin to sort through all she’d learned about Andrea Barry in the past ten minutes. Here she had assumed Andrea was a rich, happy-go-lucky girl with nothing to worry about other than where the next blue ribbon was coming from. “It’s funny, her house was a lot smaller than I would have guessed,” Lisa mused aloud.
    Mrs. Atwood eyed her sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Snapping to attention, Lisa realized how bad her comment must have sounded. She hastened to explain. “It’s just that—well, her horse—and all her riding stuff is so nice that I thought—”
    “That’s a thought you may want to keep to yourself,” Mrs. Atwood said.
    “But—” Lisa started to say.
    “Families spend their money on different things,” Mrs. Atwood rebuked her. “It’s not your business to ask why.”
    At home, Mrs. Atwood told Lisa to call Andrea to make sure she was all right. Lisa was glad to obey. She called Information, got the Barrys’ number, and