Every time I see a quarter horse with one white sock I think of Susie, then I remember how we met and start laughing. How many women can say they met their best friend in the men’s bathroom?

I couldn’t wait in the long line marked ‘Women’s.’ Instead, I had dashed into the men’s bathroom. Seconds later another girl followed behind me.

I smiled. “Alright, a kindred spirit.”

She studied me like I was a pie made of crust and no filling.

“Wouldn’t you say invading the men’s bathroom makes us partners in crime.” Excitement rushed through me, then collided with my moral side.

She froze. Feet planted inside a blue tile square.

We introduced ourselves. In that moment, in front of the men’s urinals, we became best friends.

Susie lived on twenty acres, thirteen miles out of town up Tilly Neck Road. I lived on a lot in town, but if you stepped outside my backyard you plunged into the country. I thought I had the best of both worlds, but Susie lived in paradise. She had horses.

Once we hunted the horses down in her big field, catching them became our next battle. The two horses and Jack the mule, who didn’t qualify for riding unless he was the only one we could capture, eyed us with mischief. Jack’s tail swatted at his dirty white flanks. The milk chocolate horses glistened in the sunlight.

A good measure of yelling, running, and arm flapping ensued before we tethered our rewards. Susie always rode Fractured, the spirited horse, which left me with One Sock, the old nag.

Fractured always led. One sock always followed. Susie always rode bareback and insisted I use the lone saddle. I begged to ride bareback too, but she won every debate, even though I continued my argument well after she cinched the saddle.

Our favorite route took us down the road passed the Hansen house. Lorna Hansen ran out and waved. Though a year younger than us she looked at least two years older. Her waist long dark hair, creamy complexion, soft dimpled smile, and friendly nature claimed my attention. I could see why the older boys already noticed her.

The words, “Stuck up,” sailed from Susie’s lips to my ear. Locked in a slow trot, I made a sharp turn in the saddle to see if Lorna had heard. Her tall, slender form moved gracefully into the house. I liked her and couldn’t fault her for having a model figure, more developed than my skinny, petite frame. Those specifications fell under God’s plan and design.

I swung my head around and stole a sideways glance at Susie’s pinched features. Her assessment collided with mine. She gave Fractured a hard kick and cantered off. I ate her dust. Without any coaxing on my part One Sock picked up speed, except she choose to trot at a fast clip, rather than slip into a smooth canter.

The saddle slide with every bounce. I hung onto the reins and yelled. A few mailboxes further down the road my viewpoint changed from Old Socks swayback, to her underside. My body, namely my head, bobbed and dangled, ready to meet the middle of the pavement.

Frantic sideways glances offered a lopsided view of Susie. She turned and stared at me, but held her pace. The rise and fall of her shoulders told me bountiful laughter sprang from her lips.

“Susie! Stop! I’m falling! Help me!” My head brushed closer to the hard surface with each word I hurled.

Susie didn’t stop until we returned home. If my mouth hadn’t gone dry from shouting into the wind, I’d have spit an acre full of anger at her.

“Why didn’t you stop?” I pulled a foot from a stirrup and fell to the ground. “I could have gotten hurt. What if we’d met a car?”

A long sigh weighted her tone. “It’s a dead end road.”

I pulled myself up and slapped dust from my jeans. “Cars travel the road to get to Tilly Neck Park.” She hunched her shoulders. She didn’t get my point and I couldn’t figure out her’s. “Why didn’t you stop and help me?” I shook dust from my ponytail.

At closer range Susie’s blue eyes smoldered. “I knew you could hold on.”

Susie’s confidence in me only added confusion. “Lorna reminds me of the first time I saw you. Quiet and trustworthy.”

Indurate to my opinion, her soft features hardened. “We’re nothing alike.” Susie snapped her head erect on her squared shoulders, mounted Fractured, and galloped off.

Long after bedtime, in the still of the darkness when I thought Susie had fallen asleep, she spoke. “Jim Wagner likes her.”

I sat up. “Who?”

“Lorna Hansen. He hangs around her locker at school and talks to her. Yesterday, he walked her to the bus after school. Today, he drove her home.” Her words pressed through her teeth like it took everything inside to release them.

Silence.

“I liked him first,” she whispered.

I almost laughed, then I head soft crying.

Susie liked boys? When did this happen? It frightened me. “I’m sorry. Jim has good taste though.”

Susie bolted up. “What do you mean?”

“I still think you and Lorna are a lot alike.”

Susie threw her face into her pillow and cried herself to sleep. I stared into the darkness, unable to sleep. Our friendship had turned a new corner. Boys had intruded. Things would be different.