Hot Potato

by Alyssa Brugman

  'Then it's time to go home!' Lindsey smiled.

  Shelby chewed her lip. 'Anyway, that's not really what I asked.'

  Lindsey raised an eyebrow. 'You want to know if I think you're a scab?'

  Shelby nodded.

  'It would be easier for everyone if we all had the Crooks' budget. None of us do. If you really want this horse you should try asking your mum.'

  Shelby groaned.

  'You think she'll say no,' Lindsey added before Shelby could interrupt. 'But it's at least worth asking, so you can cross that off the list.'

  Shelby lifted the bale onto the trolley. Lindsey clambered down the stack of hay. At the bottom she brushed the dust from her jodhpurs.

  'You're always trying to prove that you're as good as anyone else – talking yourself up. I don't know why you think you need to do that. Most people think you're fine already.'

  Shelby took a deep breath. It had been a day of candour from both of her friends.

  'Blue is a sturdy little horse. I would be proud to own him,' Lindsey added.

  'Really?'

  'Really.'

  Shelby helped her friend load the rest of the feed buckets onto the trolley. She wondered if Lindsey was telling the truth, and, if she was making it up, was she doing it to be nice, or because she wanted Hotty out of her hair?

  15 Investing

  Shelby sat at the dining room table with her History book spread in front of her. She flicked the end of her pen between her upper and lower teeth. She was supposed to be choosing between Vikings, Medieval Japanese or Aztecs for her assignment, but instead she had been thinking about what her friends had said. Normally she and Erin would decide on the assignment topic together, either in class or on the phone afterwards, but they hadn't spoken all afternoon.

  She wondered if she could come up with another hundred dollars to buy Lindsey and Erin out of the agreement and, if she did, whether things would go back to normal. There was more to the whole business than money.

  In the lounge room Connor sat on the floor eating a bowl filled with tinned peaches and ice cream, and watching The Simpsons. Blake stood in the middle of the room, wrapped in a towel, fresh from his bath. He stared at the television screen, transfixed – rigid and unwieldy, like a department store mannequin, while his father tried to dress him in pyjamas.

  Shelby's mother sat next to her at the table with her own textbooks spread out, having recently started a course in surveillance and investigation.

  Shelby thought it was cool that her mum was training to be a private detective, but her mum assured her that her new part-time job as a detective at a department store was far less exciting than Shelby imagined. She told Shelby that she probably got the job because she was the most ordinary-looking person who had applied.

  She still had a tea towel over her shoulder from handling hot pans at dinner time. Shelby had to admit that her mum was pretty ordinary. She was average height, average weight, with shoulder length hair that wasn't curly or straight. She had a pleasant face, but plain. Shelby thought she was perfect for a detective. It made much more sense to have the sort of person the eye slides over than all those tall, gorgeous women in designer suits that were on the TV shows.

  Shelby wondered if one day, once Blake was at school, her mother might open her own business finding kidnapped heiresses, tracking stolen treasures, or exposing wildlife smugglers.

  'You look lost. Need some help?' her mum asked. Shelby sighed and flipped through the pages in front of her. History was really the only subject at school that she found relevant. She hadn't quite decided if she wanted to run a big agistment centre like Lindsey's mum, or be an instructor like Miss Anita, or both.

  It was also possible that her career in professional competition could take off, once it got started. Either way she was sure that she would be working with horses. She didn't need English, or Science, or PE to do that. She would need some Maths, but she was pretty sure she already had enough to get by.

  At least with History she could find out things that were interesting, if not exactly useful. Horses had played a big part in history, right up until the last century, which was why she found modern history (with the exception of the part about Phar Lap) a big bore.

  When they studied the Anzacs Shelby focused on Simpson's donkey – not a horse, but equine nonetheless. This year she'd already done an assignment on Genghis Khan, with a big section dedicated to Mongolian horses.

  Shelby was pretty sure that the Vikings travelled by boat, so they weren't likely to take horses. She didn't think the Aztecs had them either, otherwise the Spanish might have had a bit more trouble with them.

  'Did the Medieval Japanese have horses?' Shelby asked her mother.

  'I think the Samurais did.'

  Shelby rested her chin on her hand. 'Hey, Mum, do you remember how you said the other day that I was being more mature?'

  'Mmmm,' her mother murmured.

  'Well, I was thinking that, now I'm making good decisions, and working . . .' She pointed her pen at her mother. 'I haven't missed a single day – did you know that? And I'm doing all my schoolwork, plus Blue's agistment is free at the stables, so . . .'

  Her mother picked up one of the textbooks, tilting it forward so that it caught the overhead light. 'No, Shelby.'

  Shelby continued. 'Maybe it's time to talk about perhaps getting another pony?'

  Shelby's mum snapped the book shut. Her mouth was pursed and she frowned.

  'Aren't you even going to think about it? Even if I got a little cheap one? Only one hundred dollars, and then we could sell her for three times as much later.'

  'Shelby!' her mother warned.

  'But you haven't listened to the whole plan! See, at the sales they're really cheap and you can train them and then sell them for more. You can't possibly lose. It's not even like a hobby, it's an investment. I could do a spreadsheet and show you.'

  'Investment my eye, Shelby Shaw. I knew going to the sales was a bad idea. I knew it!' Her mother grabbed the tea towel from her shoulder and flicked it at Shelby's arm. Shelby caught it in midair.

  'If you're not going to do your homework then you can get up there and dry the dishes!'

  'I'm doing it already,' Shelby said. She picked up the textbook and held it close to her face, then put it down on the table again. 'See? Nose-in-book! Jeez Louise!'

  Shelby sighed, pushed the tea towel aside and leaned over her books again. It was worth crossing off the list of possibilities, anyway.

  16 Erin's Longest Friend

  Shelby tossed her school bag down on the asphalt next to Erin's and sat on the seat. There was a chill on the morning breeze and she was glad she had brought her jumper. She tucked her hands inside the sleeves. It wouldn't be long before she would need to start wearing long pants to school, instead of her summer shorts.

  She kept her eyes fixed on the girls playing netball on the other side of the quadrangle. Up at the other end of the quad a group of older boys played handball.

  'I'm sorry your mum had to pay three hundred dollars for the broken saddle. I can't pay you eightythree dollars thirty-three, which is a third of that minus the fifty dollars that was your share to start with, because I don't have it. I admit that I have been a bad sharer, and I agree that we should sell Hot . . . I mean, CC.'

  She paused. Erin didn't say anything.

  'I think we should try to get four fifty when we sell her. That way you can get your three hundred back, and Lin can have her hundred and I can have my fifty, and then we'll all go back to our ordinary lives. But to make up for now, I bought you a Redskin.' Shelby thrust the lolly at her friend.

  Erin took it from her and twisted off the wrapper. She snapped it in two and passed half to Shelby, then popped her half into her mouth. She chewed on it for a moment.

  'I was thinking this morning, and do you know what? You are the longest best friend I have had so far.'

  Shelby stretched out her arms and legs.

  Erin started to laugh, an
d choked on her Redskin. She coughed and patted her chest. 'No, silly! There are other girls who I have known for longer but –'

  'I knew what you meant,' Shelby interrupted. Erin watched Neighbours and Home and Away. Shelby was afraid that some dramatic speech might follow.

  Erin's eyes widened and she grabbed Shelby's sleeve. 'What if our friendship doesn't survive this crisis?'

  Shelby cut her off again. 'What about Penelope?'

  'What?' Erin looked confused.

  'Penelope – that grey mare. She's pretty long,' Shelby said, smiling.

  Erin groaned. 'That is the lamest joke ever. I am trying to tell you something important.'

  'Let's not talk about it for one whole day, OK? We'll just do what we normally do,' suggested Shelby.

  Erin nodded. She looked pensive as she stared out into the quad. Shelby smiled, guessing that Erin was imagining a few fretful piano chords punctuating the end of the conversation.

  17 Bad Accent

  The three girls sat in front of the computer in Mrs Edel's office at the stables. They had told Lindsey's mother that they were 'just looking' at Horse Deals online, but they were actually trying to place an advertisement. So far they had agreed to place Hotty in the '$1000 and under' section, because it was free, but they couldn't agree on the text.

  'What about "stunning chestnut mare"?' suggested Erin.

  'Not "stunning",' complained Shelby.

  'Why not?'

  'Because if you were truly stunned by all the horses in here that people say are stunning you'd be in a coma!' Lindsey responded. 'I reckon it should be "pretty chestnut filly, make great lawn mower".'

  'But that makes her sound injured and dangerous,' said Erin.

  'She is injured and dangerous!' Lindsey retorted.

  Shelby said, 'We don't know that for sure. We haven't tested the other saddle yet.'

  They stared at the screen, thinking.

  'How about, "lovely chestnut mare, extravagant movement"?' said Shelby. 'That's even true!'

  'Extravagantly bucking till she falls over,' Erin added.

  '"Extravagant movement" is right up there with "stunning",' Lindsey grumbled. 'We could say "personality plus". Everyone knows that means "complete fruit loop".'

  'Does it really?' asked Erin.

  'Yeah, it's like if it says "forward moving", that means it bolts,' added Shelby.

  'Or "good doer" means that it has laminitis,' added Lindsey.

  'G'day, g'day,' came a voice from the veranda.

  The three girls looked up. Hayley Crook was standing in the doorway smiling. 'What are you doing?'

  'We were just looking at horses for sale,' explained Shelby, while Lindsey hurriedly changed pages.

  'Oh yeah? Are you going to buy something new? What have you found?' she asked, coming around the edge of the desk.

  Lindsey shrugged. 'Nothing yet. I might if I see something I like.'

  'Can I have a look?'

  'Go for it.' Lindsey backed away from the desk and Hayley sat down. She rolled the chair under the desk and scrolled down the page.

  'What about this one? Triple registered, half brother to champions. Only eight hundred. I wonder what's wrong with it? Oh, here we go – "big personality". It must be a nutcase.'

  Shelby, Erin and Lindsey exchanged looks.

  They were hoping to have placed the advertisement by the time Lindsey's mother came back in from the stables, but if Hayley hung around they would have to wait until the next afternoon.

  Lindsey sighed. 'Oh well, I suppose we'd better get back to it. Come on, Shel.'

  Hayley scrolled down the page. 'Here's a good one – "brown, six years old, fifteen hands, suit hacking, pony club, etc".'

  'Maybe we'll look later,' Erin said. Lindsey had hold of her wrist and was dragging her towards the door.

  Shelby thought they were being rude just leaving Hayley there. She opened her mouth to ask Hayley if she wanted to come with them, and then she shut it again.

  What exactly was she offering for Hayley to do? Fill water troughs? Muck out stables? That's what her family paid to have done for them. Instead she smiled. 'See you later, OK?'

  Hayley nodded.

  'Hey, you want to maybe come out on a trail with us this weekend?' Shelby suggested.

  Hayley's lip curled up on one side. 'Umm, I don't think so. You know how it is. Thanks for the offer, though.'

  Shelby felt dumb for asking. She backed out of the room and onto the veranda.

  'What are you doing?' Lindsey whispered.

  Shelby shrugged. 'I just didn't think it was polite to get up and leave as soon as she walked in.'

  'Jill Crook is the biggest busybody in this whole place,' said Lindsey in a low voice. 'You know that she runs Hayley's life. We can't risk it.'

  'OK. I was just being nice.'

  Lindsey looked across the driveway. Her mother was striding purposefully down the laneway between the stable blocks. 'Mum's coming back now anyway. We'll have to do the ad tomorrow.'

  'Oh no!' said Shelby. Parked nose-in to the side of the stables was the farrier's big red ute. 'Clint! What if he's talked to your mum?'

  Mrs Edel wasn't looking at the girls, instead swivelling her head back and forth, looking into each of the yards as she marched past them. Shelby couldn't tell what sort of temper she was in.

  'Hi, Mrs E.' Erin waved cheerily. Shelby wondered if she was hoping to gauge Brenda Edel's mood while she still had time to run.

  Lindsey's mum climbed the steps, frowning. 'I was looking at our accounts today. Did you know there's a client who hasn't paid for months? For the life of me I can't remember what she looks like. I'm usually good with faces.'

  The three girls followed her into the office warily. Did she know? Was she telling them this story as some kind of build-up?

  She acknowledged Hayley with a nod and then shuffled through some papers on the desk.

  'Did you see Clint out there?' asked Lindsey.

  'Yes.'

  Shelby held her breath.

  'I didn't stop though. He told me as I was passing that he'd pop in for coffee when he was finished. He said he had something he wanted to ask me about.'

  Shelby didn't dare to look at her friends.

  'I think I might ring this Gwen Stefani woman right now,' Mrs Edel continued. She leaned over the desk for the phone. 'I can't believe we've let her get so far behind.'

  'Gwen Stefani!' said Hayley.

  'Do you know her?' asked Lindsey's mum.

  Hayley looked over Mrs Edel's shoulder at the other girls. Shelby opened her eyes wide. Erin ran her hand across her throat in a cutting motion. Lindsey stood still, frozen – the colour draining from her face.

  Shelby was dismayed. They hadn't considered the consequences of backdating the computer entry. It made the account months overdue. "Gwen Stefani" probably owed hundreds of dollars.