Karen's Pony Camp

by Ann M. Martin

“Are you okay?” I called.

  Nancy looked as if she might cry. She was sopping wet from her jeans to her boots to her T-shirt. Her hair was dripping. She nodded.

  Shannon helped Nancy wade through the stream. “Here, I will give you a leg up onto Mellow,” said Shannon.

  “I will not get on that pony,” said Nancy firmly.

  * * *

  And Nancy did not. Jan, on her own horse, held Mellow’s reins and led her along the path. Shannon let Nancy ride with her on her horse. When the intermediates saw that, they giggled.

  I heard Casey Winters say, “Watch out for Mellow — she’s wild. They should have called her Thunderbolt.”

  Nancy’s face flushed, but she did not say anything. She was too miserable.

  By the time we reached our campsite, I was very, very ready to get off of Diablo. If you have never ridden a pony for four hours, you might not know that after awhile your legs and bottom start killing you. When we finally stopped and tied our ponies to nearby trees, I could barely walk.

  “Ohhh,” I moaned as I took off Diablo’s saddle. “Everything hurts soooo much.” I put the saddle on the ground and took off Diablo’s blanket. We each had to rub our ponies down with cloths to help them cool off. They were not allowed to drink water until they were cool. (It could make them sick.) I moaned while I rubbed Diablo. He nibbled on the grass by his hooves. He did not care if I moaned.

  Nancy did not want to rub down Mellow Yellow, but Shannon told her that she had to do it.

  “It was not Mellow’s fault that you fell into the stream,” said Shannon. “She is still your pony, and you must take care of her.”

  Nancy bit her lip and nodded.

  After that, things got better again. We all went swimming in the stream (another part of the stream that Nancy had fallen into). The water was so, so cold, but it felt good. I had been hot and sweaty and sore. The water cheered me up.

  By then we were starving. For dinner we ate hamburgers and hot dogs and chips and fruit and potatoes baked in the fire. Then we roasted marshmallows and ate watermelons that we had chilled in the stream. When dinner was over, I lay on my back and moaned some more.

  “I am soooo full,” I said. “I cannot move.”

  Hannie and Nancy and I lay next to each other. We watched the stars popping out into the night sky. Nancy had been quiet since we had reached the campsite.

  “So, guys,” said Hannie. “You have to help me decide what to do in the gymkhana. It is only two weeks away.”

  I wished Hannie would stop talking about the gymkhana. “Just do what you are best at,” I said.

  “But I might be an intermediate by then,” said Hannie. “Should I try the steeplechase? Would cantering be fast enough? Intermediates are allowed to canter.”

  I sat up and stared at her. “An intermediate!” I said. “Cantering! What are you talking about?”

  “I thought I told you,” said Hannie. “I am going to take the test to be an intermediate.”

  “You did not tell us!” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest. “You have not said one word about being an intermediate.”

  “Oh,” said Hannie. “Shannon says I can take the test tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” I cried. “But, Hannie, if you are an intermediate, we will not have all our classes together. Nancy and I will still be with the beginners.”

  “Hmm,” said Hannie.

  “What about the Three Musketeers?” I went on. “What about all for one and one for all?”

  Hannie frowned. “I want to canter,” she said. “I want to start jumping.”

  Well. I did not know what to say. I wanted to jump and canter, too, but I was not ready. Hannie was. Why couldn’t she wait for me to catch up? I turned to Nancy.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “I will not be in the gymkhana at all,” said Nancy. “Not if you paid me a million, billion, trillion, kazillion dollars.”

  It was dark out now. I could see fireflies flitting around the woods. Everything was all messed up. We were not sticking together. We were not the Three Musketeers.

  At Camp Again

  I was a little worried about sleeping in the woods. But it was easy. I crawled into my sleeping bag and closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew, it was morning. Nancy and Hannie and I had put our sleeping bags next to each other, but we did not talk before we went to sleep.

  Mrs. Moggy and the counselors made a wonderful breakfast of bacon and eggs and pan bread (which did not have to bake in an oven). There was juice and cold milk. I had seconds of everything.

  Then it was time to get back on our ponies. Nancy did not want to ride Mellow Yellow. But she could not ride double with someone the whole way, and she could not walk the whole way, either. In the end, she sat on Mellow, and Diane held Mellow’s bridle and led her. The intermediates snickered a lot.

  I did not want to get on Diablo again, either. I was still stiff and sore from the day before. Shannon gave me a leg up and I moaned loudly. I felt as if my legs were going to fall off. When I turned to tell Hannie how I felt, she had already trotted down the trail to be with the others. Hmph, I thought.

  You know what? When I first got on Diablo, I did not know how I would make it back to camp. But after awhile I felt much better. Riding actually helped my legs be less stiff and achy.

  Finally, just before lunch, we arrived back at Camp Happy Trails. In the barn, I tied Diablo next to Mellow Yellow. Nancy was already brushing Mellow’s coat, getting off all of the trail dust.

  “You are not angry at your pony, are you?” I asked. I began to brush Diablo’s coat.

  “No,” said Nancy. “I do not mind taking care of her. I know she is a nice pony. I just do not like riding. Not as much as Hannie does. Not at all.”

  Down the barn aisle, Hannie was finishing grooming Dusty. She was talking to Gretchen (the nice intermediate), and they laughed. I frowned. Later this afternoon, Hannie was going to take the test to be an intermediate. Then the Three Musketeers would really be split up. Unless Nancy and I passed the test, also. I looked over at Nancy. There was no way she could pass the intermediate test. What was I going to do?

  After Diablo was cleaned up, I put him in his stall and gave him hay and water. He whinnied happily. He was not a bad pony, I thought. But he needed a more experienced rider. An intermediate rider.

  The lunch bell rang, and everyone finished quickly and ran outside. Hannie smiled and waved at Nancy and me, then raced off without us. I waited for Nancy to put away her grooming things.

  We were the last two to walk out of the barn.

  “I hope Hannie saved places for us at our table,” I said.

  “Oh, who cares?” replied Nancy. “She is not a Musketeer anymore.”

  I felt very sad to hear Nancy say that.

  As we passed the last stall by the door, a pony pushed her head over her gate. She was medium-sized with a dark red coat and a white star on her forehead. Her sign said RUBY.

  She neighed gently at us and blinked her large, dark eyes.

  Nancy smiled and went over to her. “Hello,” she said. “How come no one is ridding you?”

  Ruby neighed again. I peeked through her stall gate.

  “Boy, is she fat,” I said. “This is the fattest pony I have ever seen. She is too round to ride.”

  Timidly, Nancy put out her hand and patted Ruby’s velvety nose. Ruby nudged Nancy’s hand.

  “She is very sweet,” I said.

  “Yes,” agreed Nancy. “She is very gentle and quiet, like Mellow Yellow.” Nancy sighed. She patted Ruby’s nose one more time. Then we went to lunch.

  Nancy’s Decision

  After lunch (Hannie had saved us two places), it was quiet time.

  I was worn out from our trail ride. I lay on my bed and closed my eyes. Hannie and Nancy lay on their beds, too.

  “I cannot believe you are joining the intermediates,” said Nancy.

  “I cannot believe you do not like pony camp,” said Hannie. “Pony
camp is the best thing ever.”

  “I do not think so,” said Nancy. “In fact, I have decided to go home.”

  I leaped up. “What?” I cried.

  Nancy sat up. “I am going to ask Diane about going home early. I do not have to stay here the rest of the month. I do not have to be in the gymkhana. I can just call Mommy and ask her to come get me.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Nancy! You cannot go home early! You are a Musketeer! Musketeers do not give up. I know you do not like riding. Maybe you need a different pony. Maybe when Blueberry comes — ”

  “No,” said Nancy. “I want to go home.”

  “You are not even trying to like pony camp,” said Hannie. “You decided not to like it before you even got here.”

  Nancy bit her lip and frowned. Then she flopped down on her bed and buried her face in her pillow.

  Maybe this is it, I thought sadly. Maybe this really is the end of the Musketeers.

  Intermediate Hannie

  During free period that afternoon, Hannie took the intermediate test. Nancy went to the arts-and-crafts shack. What did I do?

  I decided to take the intermediate test, also. If Nancy was really leaving camp, then I wanted to be with the other Musketeer. I did not feel like riding Diablo again, but I got him ready. Anyway, Hannie and Dusty were already in the ring.

  Shannon stood in the middle of the ring. Two other beginners were also taking the intermediate test.

  “Hannie,” Shannon called. “Please walk Dusty to the left. Then do a figure eight.”

  Hannie clicked her mouth and touched her heels to Dusty’s sides. She tightened her left rein a tiny bit. Dusty turned to the left, just like he was supposed to.

  Then Shannon asked Hannie to trot around the ring, posting. Hannie stopped right away when Shannon called, “Stop!”

  “You have passed the test,” said Shannon. “You and Dusty did a terrific job. Congratulations. Hannie Papadakis, you are now an intermediate.”

  Hannie looked so happy that I wanted to cheer. But I did not. I had to take the test next, and if I failed, we would be separated. And it would be Hannie’s fault.

  “Karen, please lead Diablo to the center of the ring,” said Shannon.

  I clicked my mouth and touched my heels to Diablo’s sides. Diablo took one step forward and stopped. I clicked again and shook the reins a little. Diablo walked to the right. I pulled on the reins to make him stop. Then I tapped my heels against his sides to make him move straight ahead. He broke into a trot. Uh-oh.

  My test did not get any better. In the end, Shannon shook her head. “I am very sorry, Karen. But I think you need to stay in the beginners’ class for awhile longer.”

  I nodded. My cheeks felt hot. Everyone had seen me fail. I did not look at Hannie as I rode Diablo back to the barn. Old meaniemo Diablo, I thought. But inside I knew that it was not really his fault. A better rider would know how to get him to do what she wanted him to do. I could not wait for Blueberry to arrive at camp.

  It was still free period, so I headed over to the arts-and-crafts shack. Some girls were working on macramé halters for their ponies. Some girls were painting pottery. I decided to work on my bead bracelet. It was the third one I had made. I had been planning for me, Nancy, and Hannie to wear them. Now I guessed I would give one to Mommy and one to Elizabeth and one to Kristy.

  I sat down on a bench. I opened a package of blue beads.

  “It would be a shame to let one bad thing ruin your whole month at camp,” I heard Diane say.

  I peeked over the window ledge. Nancy and Diane were sitting on the ground below me with their backs against a wooden post. I did not mean to eavesdrop. But they were sitting and talking right there.

  “I do not like riding. And Mellow dumped me in the stream,” said Nancy.

  “Sometimes it takes awhile to get used to riding,” said Diane kindly. “Until you feel used to it, it is hard to like it.”

  “I will never get used to it,” said Nancy. “I want to go home.”

  “I understand,” said Diane. “When I was your age, I came here for the first time, too. I thought I wanted to learn to ride, but when we started classes, I did not like riding at all. I was scared of my pony. I did not want to fall off. Everyone seemed to ride better than I did.”

  “Really?” asked Nancy. “But you are a great rider.”

  “Now I am,” said Diane. “But when I started, I was the worst rider in camp. When my group went on the trail ride, my pony went too close to a tree and scraped me off her back. I fell in a patch of poison ivy. It was awful. The next day I was covered in red spots. I was so miserable. The intermediates called me Itchy Di for the next two weeks.”

  “Oh, no,” said Nancy. “What did you do?”

  “Well, I never wanted to ride again. I wanted to go home. I called my mother and asked her to come get me, but she could not. So I had to stay at camp.”

  “So what happened?” asked Nancy.

  “I quit riding for a few days, until my poison ivy was better. During those days, I still had to take care of my pony. I groomed her and walked her for exercise. I fed her and cleaned her hooves. And you know what? I really got to know her, as if she were a friend. Once I knew her better, I wanted to try riding her again.”

  “And you did,” guessed Nancy.

  “Yes. I still was not the best rider in camp, but I was not embarrassed anymore. By the end of camp, I was much happier.”

  “Hmm,” said Nancy.

  “Maybe we should go over to the barn right now and say hello to Mellow Yellow,” said Diane. “You do not have to ride her. But we could say hello to her, as if she were our friend. Okay?”

  “Okay,” said Nancy.

  I jumped to my feet and put my beads away. Maybe I should say hello to Diablo.

  Ruby Needs Help

  I ran fast and caught up with Nancy and Diane.

  “I failed the intermediate test,” I told them. “Hannie passed it.”

  Nancy rolled her eyes.

  “That is too bad,” said Diane.

  “Well, Blueberry will be here by the end of the week,” I said. “I am sure I will ride better on him.”

  Inside the barn it was cool and dark. We headed for Mellow’s stall, but a noise stopped us. It was Ruby, in the first stall. She was stamping her feet and whooshing her breath out hard. We stepped closer to take a look.

  “What is she doing?” asked Nancy.

  Ruby rolled her eyes and snorted. She shook her head hard. She did not look anything like the quiet, gentle pony we had seen earlier.

  “There is something wrong,” I said. “She has turned mean.”

  Nancy and I backed away from the stall.

  “No,” said Diane. “You do not know Ruby. But I do know her, and I am sure she has not turned mean. This is Ruby’s way of asking for help. She is trying to tell us something.”

  “What is it?” asked Nancy softly.

  I still did not trust Ruby. But Nancy stepped closer again.

  “She is trying to tell us that it is time for her baby to be born,” said Diane.

  “Her baby!” said Nancy. She looked surprised. “A baby pony?”

  Diane laughed. “Of course. Not a baby elephant!”

  Ruby snorted and shook her head. She looked very fierce to me. I did not know what to do.

  “Oh, my goodness,” said Nancy. “My mommy had my baby brother not long ago. She needed a doctor. I will run and tell Mrs. Moggy to call a doctor.”

  “Good thinking,” said Diane. “I will wait here with Ruby.”

  I sat far away on a bale of hay. Diane stepped closer and talked softly to Ruby. Soon Ruby put her head over her stall gate. Diane stroked her head and said nice things to Ruby.

  Nancy ran back, red-faced and panting.

  “The vet is on her way,” she said, gasping. “She will help Ruby have her baby.”

  “Thank you very much, Nancy,” said Diane. “You did the right thing.”

  Nancy beamed. She
stayed close to Diane while she tried to soothe Ruby.

  * * *

  The vet came right away. She was tall, with red hair.

  “So,” she said, striding into the barn. “I see Ruby is finally ready to have her surprise foal.”

  “Why is it a surprise foal?” asked Nancy.

  “Ponies and horses usually have their foals between January and May,” explained the vet. It is unusual for a foal to be born now. But Ruby will be fine. Now, I need a bucket of hot water.”

  Diane fetched the water. When she returned, Nancy stayed right by Diane in the aisle. The vet went into Ruby’s stall. I could not see anything, even when I moved a little closer. Nancy was very happy and excited.

  “A baby foal!” she said, bouncing up and down a little.

  “It’s a beautiful filly,” announced the vet after awhile. “And Ruby is fine.”

  “A filly is a girl foal,” explained Diane. “A colt is a boy foal.”

  “May I see her?” asked Nancy.

  Nancy and I crept forward. Ruby’s stall gate was open. Ruby was resting on the straw, licking her baby.

  “Oh, she’s so, so cute,” whispered Nancy. “Look how tiny and perfect she is.”

  The foal was very small — about as big as Shannon the puppy at home. (Shannon is a gigundo puppy, though.) She was dark red, and her coat was wet. She had a very sweet baby face, with large, dark eyes and long eyelashes. Her little hooves were curled under her. Ruby licked her coat briskly, drying her off and cleaning her up.

  Nancy sighed happily next to me.

  “She will try to stand soon,” said Diane. “By this evening she will take her first steps. In a few days we will put a tiny halter on her, to get her used to it.”

  Nancy wrinkled her forehead. “If I go home, I will not see what happens to the foal,” she said.

  “That is true,” said Diane.

  “Maybe I better stay,” said Nancy softly.

  “I will tell you what,” said Diane. “You may take three days off from riding, although you must still groom and feed Mellow every day. During riding classes you may visit Ruby and her foal. Okay?”

  “Okay!” said Nancy. She looked happier than I had seen her in a long time.