Raven Publishing, Inc. 
Miranda and Starlight revised edition won a Notable book award from Writers Notes Magazine for the young adult category.
Chapter 2
"Whoa!" she yelled, pulling back on the handful of mane with all her strength.
Miranda had never ridden a horse this fast before. Her eyes watered and her mouth went dry. Looking ahead, she saw a pickup truck stop at the gate that divided the corrals from the field. A man jumped out and ran toward her, waving his arms. The stallion turned and galloped away, but the mare slowed to a bouncy trot that almost threw Miranda over her neck. She regained her balance as the mare stopped in front of the wild looking man.
“What the heck are you doing with my horse?” The man demanded as they came to a stop in front of him.
“I - I’m sorry,” Miranda stammered as she slid off the horse.
“Sorry? What good is sorry now that the deed is done?” The man’s pale blue eyes glared beneath his shaggy gray eyebrows.
Miranda shook with fear, but she didn’t look away.
“Don’t just stand there. Answer me!” the horse owner snapped angrily. “Are you in the habit of helping yourself to other people’s property?”
“No, sir,” she said. “I didn’t mean to actually ride her. I mean I wasn’t planning on it.”
“How do you get on a horse without planning on it? Don’t lie to me or you’ll make me downright mad. Who are you anyway?”
“Miranda Stevens.”
“Stevens. I don’t know anyone by the name of Stevens, and I know everyone in this county,” the old man shouted. “Where do you live?”
“I live with my grandpa, John Greene, on his dairy.”
“Oh, I know John Greene; sold him some hay for his milk cows a couple years ago. Well, he’s going to be hearing from me. As for you, if you ever so much as set foot on my property or touch one of my horses again, I’ll call the sheriff. Now skeedaddle!”
Miranda didn’t have to be told twice. She ran across the field as fast as her legs would carry her. The schoolhouse was dwarfed in the distance and she had to slow down to catch her breath long before she got there, but she kept pushing on.
As she climbed over the fence, she didn’t notice a nail sticking out of the top board. It snagged her shirt, ripping it all the way up the front as she jumped to the ground.
“Oh, no! What else can go wrong?” she asked herself as she trudged to the schoolhouse.
She took her jacket from a hook in the hallway and put it on to hide her torn shirt.
“Please be busy and don’t notice me,” she whispered as she opened the door cautiously and tiptoed into the classroom.
The room was quiet and the entire class looked up as she entered.
“Go to your desk, Miranda, and take out your math workbook. Do the problems on page eleven,” directed Mrs. Penrose. “Back to work, everyone. No talking.”
Miranda breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she was going to get off easy. But when Mrs. Penrose told the students to line up for lunch, she asked Miranda to wait.
“Where were you after recess, Miranda?” she asked after the other students were gone.
“Well, I, uh,” Miranda couldn’t think of what to say.
“Just tell the truth, Miranda,” said Mrs. Penrose. “It’s a lot simpler and saves a whole lot of trouble in the long run.”
Miranda took a deep breath and told her that “one of the kids” dared her to walk up to the horses and then get on one of them.
“I tried to make her stop, but she kept going faster and faster until we were all the way across the field,” Miranda continued.
She didn’t mention Chris’s bloodied nose, falling off the black stallion, or the angry horse owner. She added the part about ripping her shirt.
“It was very foolish to leave the school property and wrong to get on a horse that doesn’t belong to you. You could’ve been hurt, or worse! I want a two page report from you, Miranda,” Mrs. Penrose continued. “one page about why you should obey school rules, the other about respect for other people’s property. You may start right now.”
Miranda stared at her teacher, not wanting to believe she must miss recess. The teacher looked up again. “Now,” she repeated.
Miranda sighed, sat down, and took a sheet of paper from her notebook.
“I hope you will learn a lesson from this,” Mrs. Penrose said when Miranda turned her paper in. “I think your grandparents should know what you did. Do you want to tell them or should I?”
“I will,” Miranda quickly replied. She hoped they weren’t already hearing about it from the angry rancher. She didn’t look forward to facing her grandparents.
As Miranda got off the bus, the front door flew open. Grandma appeared in the doorway, her hand shading her eyes from the afternoon sun.
She’s looking for me, thought Miranda. She must have heard from the grouch with the horses! She’s going to kill me.
“Miranda. Miraaaanda,” Grandma called. “Oh, there you are. Hurry. Your mother’s waiting on the phone.”
Miranda broke into a run.
“Is something wrong?” Miranda gasped as she reached the front porch.
“No,” Grandma answered. “She called a little early because she has to go somewhere and won’t be back until late.”
“Hello,” Miranda panted into the phone. As Grandma rolled out pie crust, Miranda studied her face. She looks mad. I bet I’m going to catch it when I get off the phone, she thought.
“What, Mom? Oh, fine! School’s great. Guess what, Mom.”
“I don’t have much time to talk, Sweetie,” Mom said. “I wanted to tell you something, though. I’ve been seeing this guy named Randy. He’s real sweet and super handsome. He has a two-bedroom apartment and he’s going to rent one bedroom to me real cheap. I’ll move in next month. As soon as I get settled, you can come out and live with us. How does that sound?”
“What happened to John or Joe or whatever his name was?” Miranda frowned and took a piece of string from the cupboard drawer.
“You mean Jim. He turned out to be a jerk. You wouldn’t have liked him, but you’ll just love Randy. I can hardly wait for you to meet him. He’s a singer in a nightclub. He has brown eyes, long, smoky blonde hair, a heavenly voice and. . . .”
Sick of hearing Mom rave about her various boyfriends, Miranda glanced around the big kitchen as she cradled the phone on her shoulder. Gleason, the fat tabby cat, was washing himself on the oval rug in front of the old-fashioned wood cook stove, which they used only when the power went out.
“Miranda, are you listening?” asked Mom.
“Uh, yeah, Mom. Sounds nice.”
“Oh, he is! Well, I’m almost late for an appointment. . . ”
“I have a new friend at school,” Miranda interrupted.
“That’s nice,” Mom said. “There’s a school just a block from Randy’s apartment. It’s one of the biggest in the city. You’ll be able to make a lot of friends when you come here. And guess what else; there’s a big shopping mall . . . ”
Miranda jumped down from the stool and swung the string in front of Gleason’s nose. The cat tried to pounce on it as she pulled it away. Gleason turned a quick somersault and dashed under the kitchen table, peeking out from under the edge of the flowered tablecloth. The phone slipped from Miranda’s shoulder and clattered to the floor. She scooped it up and hopped back onto the stool, capturing it between her chin and shoulder again.
“Oops! Sorry, Mom. I dropped the phone,” she explained. “What were you saying?”
“I have to go, Baby. Someone’s at the door.” Mom sounded impatient. “I love you. Good-bye.”
“But, Mom, wait! I wanted to tell you,” Miranda began, but a click and dial tone told her Mom was no longer listening.
Miranda hung up the phone and headed for the bathroom.
“Supper will be ready soon,” Grandma called after her. “Will you set the table please?”
“Just a minute, Grandma,” Miranda answered.
Locking the bathroom door behind her, she leaned both elbows on the bathroom counter and stared at the freckled face in the mirror. Brooding gray-green eyes stared back at her. She watched them fill with tears as a knot of emotion rose from her chest into her throat. Frowning, she tried to sort out the rush of feelings that swelled inside her chest.
“You look madder than Grandpa’s big bull,” said the girl in the mirror, who was tugging at a long lock of hair the color of dirty sand.
“Well, anyone would be upset if her mother was a thousand miles away and only called to talk about her boyfriends!” Miranda replied indignantly.
She wrinkled her small, straight nose and twisted her delicate lips as she watched her reflection do the same. She couldn’t remember when she had begun talking to herself in the mirror, but it had come to seem like a friend, separate from herself. When she needed to talk her feelings through, the girl in the mirror was someone she could trust to understand and keep secrets. Tears were washing over the freckles on the cheeks of the mirror-child.
“Are you mad or sad?” asked the reflection.
“Both,” Miranda decided, “and scared, too. I really miss Mom, but I’m afraid to go to a new school where I don’t know anyone. Even if I don’t have a horse, I have a new friend. I have Grandma and Grandpa. Why can’t Mom come live with us?”
“They’re never going to let you have a horse after getting in trouble for riding someone else’s,” warned the girl in the mirror.
Miranda sighed. “I wish Grandma and Grandpa could see that if I just had a horse of my own, I wouldn’t keep getting into trouble. I don’t really mean to, but you should have seen that horse. He’s the most beautiful . . . ”
“Miranda?” called Grandma from the kitchen.
“Coming, Grandma,” she answered.
She put her thumbs in her ears and wiggled her fingers as she stuck out her tongue at the mirror. The mirror girl returned the compliment. Running cold water into her hands, she splashed some on her face, spilling some of it down the front of her jacket. Pulling it off, Miranda was surprised to see her torn shirt come off with it. She dashed to her room, tossed both jacket and shirt into the closet before pulling on a sweatshirt.
As she entered the kitchen, the back door slammed and Grandpa rushed in.
“Got a milk cow trying to calve! Looks like it’s coming backward,” he shouted. “I need both of you to come help.” He was gone again, running toward the barn.
Miranda ran out the door with Grandma. She was surprised at how dark it had become and noticed that black clouds obscured the sun above the western horizon. The evening breeze had a cold bite to it. A big black and white cow was humped in a corner of the corral behind the barn. Around her neck was a rope, which Grandpa was wrapping around a fence post. The cow lay down, pulling the rope tight.
“Oops!” said Grandpa, quickly releasing it and wrapping it twice around the post nearer the ground. “Here, Miranda, hold the end of this rope and give her a little slack if she tries to stand up, but don’t let her go.”
Miranda took the rope and began to talk soothingly to the cow.
“Don’t worry, old girl, Grandpa will help you. It hurts, doesn’t it? Well, just relax and breathe, like this.” Miranda huffed and puffed like women she’d seen in labor on TV shows.
Grandma and Grandpa were both holding onto a rope at the other end of the cow.
“Get ready. Now!” shouted Grandpa.
Together, they pulled the rope and fell backward when the calf slipped free. Grandpa scrambled to the still, wet mass on the ground. With his glove, he cleared away the membrane from the face of the calf and began blowing into its nostrils. In between breaths, he was thumping and massaging its body. Miranda stared, not realizing that she was holding her breath or that the cow was struggling to get to her feet.
“Miranda, let her stand,” Grandma said softly.
“Oh,” Miranda exclaimed. She let the rope slide around the post until the cow got to her feet.
“Hold her there,” said Grandma.
Miranda saw that Grandpa still bent over the calf and knew that she must keep the cow from interfering. She had known of cows that would attack anyone who came near their babies. A moment later, she heard a gurgling little bellow and saw the calf move. Grandpa smiled.
“Now we can let Mama take over,” he said as he came to the cow’s head and took the rope from Miranda. As soon as the rope was off the cow’s neck, she hurried to her baby and began licking it.
With her grandparents, Miranda watched until the baby stood on wobbly legs and found the udder of warm milk. Tiny snowflakes were beginning to fall, and the wind roared in the trees across the meadow.
“Let’s get them in the barn,” Grandpa said, opening the door.
Miranda thought that would be hard to do, but Grandpa poured some grain into the manger and called, “C’m boss.” The cow walked through the door as Grandma guided the calf behind her.
It was dark when they went back to the house, and Miranda shoved her hands into her pockets to try to get them warm.
