“Good girl. Are you feeling better?” I asked her.
Crunch, crunch. Crunch, crunch.
When she finished, I gave her a sugar cube for dessert.
I looked at my watch. I had to leave. Peanuts blinked her eyes and watched me go out the door.
Chris had saddled Mr. Chips for me. During the lesson we trotted around and around the ring. I was pretty good at posting now.
So was Katie. I couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t as good as I was—she’d lose the rhythm every now and then—but she was one of the better ones in our class. Twice today, Mrs. Larrick had called out, “Good work, Katie!” and Katie had beamed. Then she had looked over her shoulder at me triumphantly.
Katie still needed to work on control, though. That seemed to be hardest for her. She could mount and dismount, walk and trot, but when it came to being firm with her horse, she lost something. Maybe because she really was a little afraid of horses. She hadn’t gotten over that.
“Class, please dismount,” said Mrs. Larrick after awhile. It was only ten minutes to four. Usually we didn’t dismount until exactly four o’clock.
We lined our horses up across the middle of the ring and dismounted.
“I have an announcement to make,” said Mrs. Larrick. “Every year at the end of the summer we hold a horse show at Hasty Acres.”
My heart gave a little leap. A horse show!
“Anyone who’s taking lessons here can be in the show, from beginners to the most advanced students. If you prefer not to take part, that’s fine, but I suggest you give it a try. It’s lots of fun, and it will be a good experience, especially if you plan to continue riding.”
Mrs. Larrick glanced at me. If she was wondering whether I’d be in the show, she could quit worrying. This was what I’d been waiting for all summer! I hoped there would be prizes.
“The show will be held in about a month,” continued Mrs. Larrick, “on September second, the Saturday after the summer session ends. You will show with your class, and we’ll prepare together during the next few weeks, but you will be judged individually. And prizes will be awarded to individuals. In other words, this class will show as a group, but you’ll be competing against each other.”
Her last few words cut through me like an icy knife. Up until I heard them, I’d been feeling pretty confident. Here was my chance to win a prize. But “competing against each other” meant competing against Katie. How could I beat out the Prize Queen? The Pest always won prizes; I never did.
And wasn’t Mrs. Larrick always saying, “Good work, Katie,” and “Nice form, Katie,” and “Very good, Katie”? If Katie was so good now, how good would she be in a month? As good as I was? … Better than I was?
I shuddered. If I was in a contest with the Pest and she won and I lost, it would be worse than watching her win any of her other awards. It would be horrible.
“Please let me know as soon as possible whether you’ll be in the show,” Mrs. Larrick was saying. “It’ll be sponsored by Red Rose Feeds—that’s the company we buy our horse feed from—and we have to let them know ahead of time how many will be participating. All right?”
We nodded.
“Okay, lead your horses back to the stables.”
I tried to feel excited about the show … but I was too worried.
As soon as the Pest and I got home after the lesson, I changed out of my riding clothes and called Sara on the phone. I closed the door to Mom and Dad’s room and lay on the floor with my feet propped up on their bed.
“Guess what,” I said, as soon as Sara answered the phone.
“What.” She knew it was me.
“I’m going to be in a horse show.”
“Oh, Wendy, that’s great! I know you’ll win a prize. … There will be prizes, won’t there?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Well, you’ll win one.”
“I hope so.” I didn’t say anything about the Pest. I didn’t feel like talking about her.
“I know so.”
“What are you doing now?” I asked.
“Nothing. What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Want to come over?” asked Sara.
“Okay. I’ll be right there.”
“’Bye.”
“’Bye.”
“’Bye.”
“I said ’bye.”
“You hang up first.”
“No, you.”
“No, you.”
“I can’t.”
“Wait. Count to three.”
“One … two … three,” we said together. We hung up at the exact same moment.
I raced over to Sara’s.
“Let’s do something,” she said when I got there. She was sitting on her back stoop. “I’m tired of reading and tired of knitting and tired of drawing and I’m even tired of Star and Lucy. … No offense,” she said to Star, as he came trotting around a corner of the house. “The summer’s getting boring.”
“You say that at the beginning of every August,” I reminded her.
“I know.”
“And then by the last day of summer vacation you’re moping around, saying how can you face another nine and a half months of school, and why did you waste so much of the summer.”
“I know,” Sara said again.
We sat with our chins in our hands and our elbows propped on our knees.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” I cried suddenly.
“What?” asked Sara, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.
“Let’s think up ways to get Peanuts,” I answered.
“Yeah,” said Sara slowly.
“I know! We could kidnap her!” I suggested.
“How?” whispered Sara.
“Okay. We sneak over to Hasty Acres in the middle of the night, open the door to Peanuts’s stall—I know right where it is—and lead her out. She’ll come with us. She knows me.”
“Yeah,” said Sara, “then what?”
“Then we sneak her back home and hide her in the garage.”
“Yeah!”
“Oh, but wait. Hasty Acres is at least four miles from here, and we can’t walk that far.”
“Neither can Peanuts,” pointed out Sara.
“And we couldn’t really hide her in the garage,” I added.
Sara shook her head.
We thought some more.
“You could buy her,” said Sara after awhile.
“Buy her what?” I asked.
“No, I mean buy her. Pay for her. Save up enough money. How much do you think a horse would cost? An old horse?”
“I’m not sure. Fifty dollars?”
“That’s a lot. How much have you got?”
“Six dollars and ten cents. And Carol owes me a quarter.”
“Nowhere near enough.”
After that, we didn’t have any more ideas.
“At least I’m going away this weekend,” Sara said finally.
“You are?”
“Yeah. Mom and Dad and me and Uncle John and Aunt Martha and Carol. We’re going to Barnegat Bay for three whole days.”
Sara and Carol and their families take a vacation together every year. I wished I were going with them. Now I’d be stuck with a long, boring weekend.
On Saturday morning, Dad went to the nursery to buy shrubs. Mom took Scottie to the dentist. And Miss J. had the day off.
I sat at the kitchen table and looked across the breakfast dishes at the Pest.
She smiled at me.
“What are you going to do today?” I asked her. I figured the Pest would have a hundred good answers. She could write a book. She could paint a masterpiece. She could compose a sonata. She could invent something and get her picture in the paper again.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “What are you going to do?”
I shrugged.
The Pest poured herself another bowl of Grape Nuts.
“Don’t you have to practice?” I asked her.
“Nope. Not un
less I want to.”
I got up and began putting dishes in the sink.
“Wendy,” said the Pest, “do you think Mommy and Daddy really meant it when they said we couldn’t keep Peanuts?”
“Yeah. Why? Don’t you?”
The Pest crunched thoughtfully on a mouthful of cereal. She swallowed. “I’m not sure. If we could just come up with a good enough plan …”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Let’s think.”
“I’ve thought,” I said.
“Well, what if we could make Mommy and Daddy think they needed a horse?”
“Yeah …”
“Why do people get horses in the first place?”
“Because they love them?”
Katie frowned and crunched away at her Grape Nuts. “Nah. You could love mice or snakes or cats just as easily. What do you need horses for?”
“To pull wagons?”
“That’s what I mean!” cried Katie. “What else?”
“To go places where cars can’t go!”
“To get you through the snow and ice!” added Katie.
“Oh, but wait,” I said. “We can’t ride Peanuts. And I bet she can’t pull anything.”
Katie’s face fell. “You’re right,” she said sadly.
“Katie,” I ventured, “you really want to help me get Peanuts, don’t you?”
Katie nodded.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you want her.”
I considered that. I remembered her private conversation with Mom. She was trying to be my friend.
“Thanks,” I said at last.
That evening I opened my diary to August 5th and wrote:
Katie wants to help me keep Peanuts. She’s being very nice. Maybe the Pest is getting less pesty.
I snapped the diary closed. And that was when I realized I hadn’t had to unlock it to write in it. Someone had broken the lock. And there were faint smudges on the white cover and on some of the pages. I knew Mom and Dad and Miss J. wouldn’t read my diary. And Scottie couldn’t read yet.
That left the Pest.
Angrily I flipped through the pages, scrunching a few by accident. Then I wasted all of the space for August 6th and part of the space for August 7th writing:
I TAKE IT BACK. KATIE IS A GIGANTIC PEST AFTER ALL. SHE IS A SNEAK. AND BY THE WAY, I WONDER IF SHE KNOWS THAT THE DENTIST TOLD MOM AND DAD HER TEETH ARE SO UGLY SHE’LL HAVE TO WEAR BRACES FROM THE TIME SHE’S TEN UNTIL SHE’S TWENTY-NINE.
There. That would teach her.
I didn’t even bother to hide the diary. I hoped the Pest would sneak in and read it again.
10.
Getting Even
THE PEST SPENT ALL day Sunday hiding her mouth behind her hands and smiling with her lips pressed together. She did more hiding than smiling. You could tell she was pretty nervous.
Mom and Dad knew something was bothering her. They didn’t want to press the Pest, though. They tried to ignore her behavior. But when she began talking with her lips closed Dad finally asked gently, “Is anything wrong, lamb?”
The Pest shook her head and said, “Mmphh-mmnfll.”
“Katie, I can’t understand you. What’s wrong with your mouth?”
“You know!” The Pest finally exploded. She risked opening her mouth.
“I do?” asked Dad.
“About my teeth,” said the Pest. She was ready to burst into tears.
“Your teeth …?”
“How they’re so ugly I’m going to need braces for nineteen years.”
I couldn’t help it. I started giggling. I did it as quietly as I could, but Dad heard me anyway. He looked at me sharply.
“Wendy? Do you know something about this?”
I tried to stop laughing. “Ask the P—, ask Katie where she got the idea.”
The Pest turned on me. Her eyes were daggers.
“Go ahead. Tell Dad,” I said.
“Flmnphhrmlnstp.”
“What?” Dad was losing his patience.
“From Wendy’s diary,” the Pest mumbled.
“You were reading Wendy’s diary?”
The Pest nodded.
“Did Wendy say you could?”
The Pest shook her head miserably. She’d been caught red-handed.
“Up to your room, Katie, while I talk to your mother.”
I walked off, smirking, while the Pest headed for her room.
Mom and Dad told the Pest she’d have to spend the rest of the day (except for dinner) in her room, and go to bed an hour early.
Around four o’clock I crept upstairs and peeped in her room. Katie was kneeling on her bed gazing sulkily out the window. I knew she was watching Scottie play in the sprinkler and wishing she were out there with him.
“It’s too bad about your punishment,” I said.
The Pest whirled around. “Shut up, Wendy!”
“I mean, really. First a week with no TV and now this. It’s a shame.”
“Shut up. Just shut up!”
And then an idea came to me. A mean one. A really mean one. A way to get even with Katie. It was the perfect plan—and Sara wasn’t here to help me. Oh, well. I was certain it was too mean an idea to interest her anyway.
“You know,” I told Katie, stepping into her room, “you could run away.”
The Pest forgot to be angry with me. She opened her eyes wide. “I could?” she squeaked.
“Mmm hmm. It would sure show Mom and Dad.”
“Yeah …” the Pest said thoughtfully.
“If you ran away, they’d see how horrible they’d been to you.”
“Yeah …” The Pest began to look excited.
“They’d really miss you.”
“Yeah …”
“But maybe it’s not such a good idea,” I added.
“Yes, it is! Yes, it is!” cried the Pest. She was all worked up.
“You’ll worry Mom and Dad.”
“I know.”
“They’ll feel terrible.”
“I know,” said the Pest dreamily.
“Are you going to do it?” I asked. I was already sure she would.
“Yes. I am. I really, really am.”
“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Okay.”
“Remember, I said this was a bad idea. I said you’ll worry Mom and Dad.”
“Okay, okay.” The Pest was barely listening. She was flying around her room, opening drawers, tossing things out. “Wendy, could you get my suitcase out of the attic?” she asked.
“Oh, goodness, Katie. You want me to help you? I better not. I don’t want to get in any trouble.”
“I won’t tell. I promise,” said the Pest breathlessly. She opened the door to her closet and pulled out a jacket and two pairs of running shoes. “Please, Wendy? Come on.”
“All right. But I know this is wrong,” I muttered.
I smiled to myself as I rummaged around in the attic, but by the time I handed Katie her suitcase, I looked very serious. I even managed to work up a few tears.
“Here,” I sniffled. “I’m really going to miss you.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
“Thanks,” said Katie, busily stuffing things in the suitcase. In a few minutes it was so full we had to sit on it to close it.
“Hey!” whispered Katie. “Shh! I think someone’s coming. Check the hallway.”
I did. No one was there.
“It’s your imagination,” I told her.
The Pest hauled her suitcase over to the doorway. She turned and looked around her room. “Well, good-bye, room,” she said softly. “Good-bye, bed. Good-bye, dresser. Good-bye, Mr. Mumps.” (Mr. Mumps was her stuffed monkey. We couldn’t fit him in the suitcase.) “Good-bye, clock. Good-bye, doll carriage.”
Katie’s good-byes went on for quite awhile. What a jerk.
Finally she closed the door to her room. “Mommy and Daddy will think I’m in there! They’ll think the door is shut because I’
m mad!” she said gleefully.
“Now listen, Wendy. Don’t tell them anything. Pretend you don’t know what I did. They probably won’t miss me until dinner.”
“Oh, boy. You’re going to get me in—”
“No, I won’t. I’ll take all the blame.”
Perfect. Just what I wanted to hear.
“Hey, where are you going to go?” I asked suddenly.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
The Pest made me go downstairs and find out where Mom and Dad were. When I gave her the all-clear signal, she tiptoed after me and snuck out the back door.
I watched her disappear into the woods behind our house. I knew that if she went far enough, she’d wind up at the playground in back of our school. Sometimes we used the woods as a shortcut to or from school. But there was no path, and Mom and Dad didn’t really like us in the woods alone. They said you never knew.
After the Pest left, I sat on our back porch. I was dying to tell someone my secret, but there was no one to tell. When Miss J. finally announced that dinner was ready, I shot out of my chair. My heart was pounding. I went to the kitchen to wash my hands. Mom was there, telling Scottie to go upstairs and get Katie.
In a few minutes he came running back downstairs.
“Mommy!” he cried. “I knocked and knocked on Katie’s door but there was no answer, so I went in and she’s gone!”
Mom and Dad looked at each other. Then they tore upstairs. I followed them.
“Wow,” I said, peering around Katie’s room at the open dresser drawers and the empty coat hangers in the closet. “I bet she ran away.”
“Oh, no,” my mother moaned.
“Now, calm down, everyone,” said Dad. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’ll be back soon.”
“I don’t know,” said Mom. “Maybe we should call the police.”
The police! I hadn’t counted on that.
“Does anyone know how long she’s been gone?” asked Dad.
“The last time I saw her was around four-thirty,” I replied.
“Why, that’s two hours ago!” cried Mom.
“Honey, she’s probably not very far away. She could even be hiding in the house. For all we know, she can hear this conversation,” said Dad. “Let’s look for her ourselves before we call the police.”
I felt a little funny helping Mom and Dad and Miss J. and Scottie search our house for the Pest when I knew we wouldn’t find her. After about ten minutes, I said, “Maybe she’s outside. I’m going to check the yard.”
Me and Katie (The Pest) Page 6