“Imagine how annoyed I’ll be!” Stevie wailed. But Carole and Lisa did have a point. Where Veronica was concerned, Stevie had hardly ever tried the method of killing with kindness. “Okay,” she said finally, “you talked me into it. I hereby resolve to quit being mean to Veronica diAngelo.” Stevie took the paper and pen and wrote her resolution underneath Carole’s.
“Two minutes to midnight!” Lisa exclaimed.
“Better make your resolution fast, Lisa,” Stevie said pointedly.
Lisa looked surprised at Stevie’s sharp tone. “All right, all right—let me think of something.”
“No, why don’t you let Carole and me think of something, since you thought of ours?” Stevie suggested.
“But—” Lisa began.
“Good idea, Stevie,” Carole agreed. “After all, it’s only fair. Let’s see …”
“I know,” Stevie said, an impish light in her eyes. “Lisa, why don’t you resolve to learn embroidery, since your mother wants you to so much?”
“But I—well—” Lisa stopped. The idea of learning embroidery was utterly repulsive to her. She had been planning to put it off for as long as she could.
It was 11:59. Stevie and Carole were waiting. It wouldn’t be fair to back down now. “Fine!” Lisa said defensively. “Embroidery it is. Give me the pen.”
Carole and Stevie watched over Lisa’s shoulder as she wrote down her resolution.
“Twenty seconds to midnight!” Carole pointed to the TV, where the ball was dropping in New York City’s Times Square. Together the girls counted down the last seconds. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one! Yea!” they yelled.
“Let’s toast the New Year!” Stevie urged. All three of them picked up their sodas and prepared to drink.
“Uh, Carole?” Lisa murmured, pointing at the can in Carole’s hand.
Carole frowned. “Oh, right. Hold on. I’ll, um … get some water.”
“Can’t she even have one sip of soda?” Stevie asked, annoyed.
Lisa shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I don’t care. But a resolution is a resolution.”
THE AIR AT Pine Hollow the next morning was buzzing with something, though it wasn’t exactly excitement. Max Regnery had assembled the active members of Horse Wise and their parents. Stevie’s parents couldn’t make the meeting because they were visiting out-of-town friends for the day. Mrs. Atwood had come as promised, however. And Colonel Hanson had arrived with a very sleepy Lisa, Stevie, and Carole. The tack room was packed with riders and parents waiting for Max to bring the meeting to order.
“It looks like most of the members showed up,” Carole observed, glancing around the crowded room.
“Most—but not all,” Stevie noted dryly. “Veronica’s probably too tired from her helicopter tour of the city to come to something as boring as an unmounted Horse Wise meeting.”
“Stevie …,” Lisa said warningly.
Stevie shot Lisa an annoyed look. “Look, I resolved not to be mean to Veronica,” she snapped. “That doesn’t mean I can’t talk about her behind her back.”
Lisa was about to respond when her mother appeared in front of them. “Hi, honey. Hi, girls. Happy New Year,” said Mrs. Atwood. “How was the slumber party?”
“It was fun, Mom. We—”
“It was great!” Stevie said, jumping in. “Lisa told us that she almost stayed home because she wanted to work on her embroidery, but you’re glad you came, aren’t you, Lis’?” Stevie’s hazel eyes glinted tauntingly.
“Did you say that, honey?” asked Mrs. Atwood, obviously pleased.
Lisa glared at Stevie before recovering herself. “Yes, Mom. I can’t wait to start,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Wonderful! I wasn’t sure if you liked your Christmas present, but I’m so glad you do! Thank you for telling me, Stevie. Perhaps you and Carole would like to join Lisa. All girls should know how to embroider, you know.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Atwood, but …” Stevie paused, trying to think up an excuse.
“Yes, thank you, but I’m going to be busy learning how to cook,” Carole cut in.
“Are you, dear? That’s wonderful, too. What are you going to make?” Mrs. Atwood inquired.
Lisa and Stevie looked at Carole curiously. They had no idea what she was getting at. Carole grinned. “Oh, I’ll be making nutritious meals—vegetable casseroles, salads, sugar-free desserts …”
Lisa and Stevie laughed, both relieved that Carole had changed the subject from embroidery to her own resolution.
“That’s nice, Carole,” Mrs. Atwood said vaguely. “It’s always good to eat healthy food.”
“Healthy food?” Colonel Hanson asked, coming over to greet Lisa’s mother. “Yuck! I say, keep your alfalfa sprouts for the rabbits and give me a burger, fries, and a Coke any day of the week. Happy New Year, Eleanor.”
As Mrs. Atwood and Colonel Hanson shook hands and began to chat, Stevie, Lisa, and Carole drifted away. It was bad enough having their parents present at a Horse Wise meeting: They didn’t want to talk to them, too!
“Am I crazy, or is Max actually late?” Stevie asked when the three of them were settled on the floor in a corner. The talking had reached a higher pitch as the group waited for the meeting to start.
“You are crazy, as we all know, Stevie,” Carole kidded, “but you’re right, too. Max is fifteen minutes late.” She pointed to the tack room clock. “The meeting was supposed to start at nine.”
Lisa’s eyes grew big. “This might be the first time in Pine Hollow history that Max has been late,” she murmured.
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it,” Stevie breathed, awestruck. For as long as she could remember, Stevie had been getting into trouble with Max for showing up late to meetings. Now it seemed that the tables had finally turned.
“Do you think something happened?” Carole asked, worried.
“Yeah, maybe his alarm clock didn’t work, or the dog ate his homework,” Stevie suggested, laughing at the idea of Max using two of her favorite excuses.
Carole gave her a withering glance. “No, seriously—it’s strange for him to be late,” she said. “I hope he’s not sick.”
Before the girls could wonder any longer, the tack room door flew open and Max entered. Strangely enough, he didn’t seem at all perturbed or apologetic about being late. Nor did he seem in a big hurry to start the meeting. He sauntered toward the front of the room, pausing to chat with different students and parents on the way.
Astonished, Stevie stared at the owner of Pine Hollow Stables. She’d been sure that he would hurry in and call the meeting to order immediately. Maybe, she thought suddenly, his watch had stopped, and he had no idea how late he was! How embarrassing! “Max,” she said in a stage whisper. “Max, over here!”
Max turned and waved hello. “Hi, Stevie! Happy New Year.”
Stevie motioned wildly for him to forget the small talk. “It’s almost nine-twenty!” she hissed.
Max looked at his wristwatch. “Ah, so it is. I guess I should start the meeting, shouldn’t I?”
At that, The Saddle Club stared at one another in disbelief. Max prided himself on his organization and efficiency, as well as his respect for his students and their parents. Now he was behaving like the bad kid in school.
“Okay, what gives?” Carole whispered.
“I don’t know, but I have the feeling we’re about to find out,” said Lisa.
“And it doesn’t look good,” Stevie muttered.
Max had finally made his way to the front of the room. But now instead of joking, his expression was grim. He held up a hand for silence, cleared his throat, and began.
“As some of you so kindly pointed out on my way in, this special meeting was supposed to start twenty minutes ago.” Max paused dramatically. Then he continued, speaking clearly and emphasizing every word. “I came late on purpose—to show you what it’s like to come on time only to find that someone else is late and holding up the
whole meeting.”
Stevie shifted uneasily in her seat. She knew that she had been that “someone else” more than a few times.
“That happens a lot at Horse Wise. Of course, if lateness were the only problem besetting this Pony Club, I wouldn’t have much cause for concern. But it’s the tip of the iceberg. Look around the room. It probably looks packed to you. But does anyone remember that a year ago I held meetings in the indoor ring because Horse Wise was too big to meet in the tack room?”
A few people nodded and murmured among themselves.
“Well, I do. The fact is, membership has fallen off. Some riders dropped out formally; others just stopped coming. And a few prefer mounted meetings to unmounted,” Max added, under his breath.
The Saddle Club eyed one another. They knew Max meant Veronica. The girl was so spoiled that she didn’t see the point in learning the horsemanship—grooming, conformation, and basic veterinary skills—that the unmounted meetings taught.
“And parents: I’m sorry to have to say this since so many of you made the effort to come today, but the truth is, parental support in this club is way, way down.”
Now it was the parents who looked at one another guiltily, mumbling apologies and excuses, as Max let his words sink in.
“I understand that it’s winter, and we’re all less interested in riding now than we will be in three months. But winter is the time for us to get our act together for the spring rallies and other competitions.” Max looked down at the clipboard he was holding and consulted a list. “At the very least, we must beg, borrow, or steal the following for the spring season of events: new matching saddle pads and cross-country hat covers; new tires on the two vans; money to pay whoever teaches our dressage clinic in April; entry fees for the events on our summer schedule.… I could go on, but I think you get the picture.
“Now, I don’t want to make the situation sound worse than it is. This club has a lot of talent and dedication. But my mother and I have been working double time to fill in the gaps you all leave, and we can’t anymore.” Max gestured to his mother, Mrs. Reg, who was listening in the back of the room. Mrs. Reg was a favorite among The Saddle Club. It was no surprise that she had been helping Max run Horse Wise. She could always be counted on in a pinch. If The Saddle Club happened to be hanging out at Pine Hollow, Mrs. Reg would put them right to work cleaning tack, scrubbing buckets, or giving the stalls a once-over. She worked right beside them. If there was anyone whom they hated to disappoint more than Max, it was Mrs. Reg.
“And so,” Max was saying, “after a lot of thinking, I’ve decided to put the club on trial for an indefinite period of time. You—all of you—are going to have to show me that you want this club as much as I do. If it turns out that that’s not the case …” Max paused and cleared his throat, then continued, his voice strained with emotion, “then we’ve all learned a lot and had a good time up until now. At least,” he added softly, “I know I have.”
Lisa, Stevie, and Carole exchanged looks of dismay. None of them had missed the note of resignation in Max’s voice. “He’s really choked up!” Carole whispered.
In a moment, Max had regained his composure. He surveyed the room briefly, looked down at his notes one more time, then concluded, “That’s really all I have to say. I’ve got horses to exercise, so I’ll be on my way.”
After Max left the room, there was a moment or two of stricken silence. Everyone seemed to realize that they had taken Max and Horse Wise for granted. Nobody seemed to know what to say. They were used to Max telling them what to do. Carole was lost in thought. Stevie knew that a joke at a time like this would be inappropriate. Lisa racked her brains, trying to think of something practical that would rally the Pony Clubbers and their parents.
“Excuse me?” a woman said timidly.
The group turned. It was Mrs. Atwood. Lisa did a double take. Usually Mrs. Atwood left the riding to Lisa and concentrated her energies on school fairs for the parent-teacher association. She wasn’t like the mothers who knew about horses and helped look after their children’s ponies. She looked out of place in the stables—even today she was wearing a wool suit and high heels. But, Lisa thought, listening to her mother’s words, she did know a heck of a lot about organizing people.
“I don’t know anything about horses,” Mrs. Atwood began, “but from what Max said, it sounds to me as if the main thing we need right now is money. I have a suggestion for how to raise some. It’s not a new idea, but it’s simple and it’s fast and it works.”
“Yes, Mrs. Atwood?” one of the parents asked politely.
“We could have a bake sale,” Lisa’s mother said. “On a Saturday,” she added. “At the Willow Creek shopping center.”
Stevie raised her eyebrows. “Now, that’s my kind of suggestion!” she murmured to Carole and Lisa.
Mrs. Atwood looked around the room. “So, do I have any takers?”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Reg responded immediately. “What does everyone else think?”
“Hear! Hear!” said Colonel Hanson.
Mrs. McLean, the mother of one of the younger girls in Horse Wise, spoke up. “I think that’s a super plan. That way we could all get involved. Both Pony Clubbers and parents can bake things, and we can take turns manning the sale table.”
“Can I make my famous double-fudge brownies?” said a woman from the back.
“Mom, I want to make peanut butter cookies!” a young boy piped up.
“I’ve got a German chocolate cake that will knock your socks off,” Betsy Cavanaugh’s mother boasted.
All at once, everyone was talking excitedly about the bake sale plans. Lisa looked at her mother with new appreciation. With one suggestion, she had turned everyone’s mind from worrying to productive planning. No wonder she was such a hit at PTA meetings.
“This will be great,” said Colonel Hanson to Carole. “We can have an all-day bake-a-thon!”
Carole smiled but grimaced inwardly. Like everyone else, she thought the idea of the bake sale was great. But why did it seem like all of a sudden, wherever she turned, there was junk food? “Sure, Dad, we can bake up a storm,” she replied, trying to muster enthusiasm.
When Mrs. Atwood volunteered to organize the sale, Lisa thought happily of her New Year’s resolution. It would be a perfect thank-you for Lisa to present her mother with a piece of embroidery … at some time in the very distant future!
“I say the sooner we can hand Max a check, the better,” Mrs. Atwood was saying. “So why not have this sale on Saturday in two weeks? That ought to give us plenty of time.”
“Boy, like mother, like daughter,” Stevie commented, watching Mrs. Atwood start to take down volunteers’ names.
“Yeah, I guess hyper-organization runs in the family,” Lisa laughed.
As the meeting broke up, Lisa’s mother started a sign-up sheet so that people could list their names, numbers, and the baked goods they wanted to bring. Before long, the sheet was practically full. Carole read down the list of food items: brownies, blondies, hermit cookies, fudge, lemon cake, devil’s food cake—
“Here, Carole,” a voice said.
Carole turned, glad to be distracted. The list of baked goods was making her crave sweets. She looked up. It was Mrs. Reg, smiling warmly, holding out a tray of miniature doughnuts.
“Mrs. Reg?” said Carole, momentarily confused.
Mrs. Reg held the plate out closer to Carole. “I brought these for the meeting, so enjoy them, dear!”
AFTER THE MEETING, Stevie, Lisa, and Carole decided to go riding in the indoor ring. None of them could bear to come to Pine Hollow and not ride. They went their separate ways to groom and tack up Belle, Prancer, and Starlight.
While she was brushing Starlight, Carole thought about her resolution. She had already broken it by looking around guiltily for Stevie and Lisa and then eating half of a miniature honey-dipped doughnut and washing it down with cocoa. Mrs. Reg had looked so pleased with her offering that Carol
e hadn’t known how to say no.
“Maybe sweets aren’t the same as junk food, boy. What do you think?” Carole asked the bay gelding. She put down her currycomb and picked up a soft brush. Maybe desserts really belonged in their own category. And what about soda? Was that junk food? And hot chocolate? Those were drinks, so they couldn’t count, could they?
“At least I can tell you, Star.” Carole sighed. She knew she should, but Carole didn’t want to admit to Lisa and Stevie that she had cheated. It seemed pathetic to fail on the very first day of the new year! Lisa and Stevie would think she had no willpower.
Carole sighed again as she laid the saddle gently on Starlight’s reddish-brown back. “Imagine how you’d feel if you’d given up sweet feed and could eat nothing but boring old pellets and hay,” she told the young Thoroughbred. Starlight swiveled his ears back and forth. “You horses are so lucky,” Carole muttered. “You’re too smart to make resolutions!”
IN THE RING, Stevie seemed to have had a similar thought. “I guess Belle didn’t make any resolutions to behave,” she said cheerfully. “She’s pulling like a train!”
Stevie’s horse, Belle, was an Arabian-Saddlebred cross. Like Stevie, she was very feisty and spirited, sometimes even stubborn. She liked to go fast, too. “Whatever gait we’re going, she wants to go one faster,” Stevie commented, sitting down firmly in the saddle to settle the mare. “She wanted to trot so I let her, and now that we’re trotting, she wants to canter. What do you think would happen if I let her gallop full out?”
“She’d probably take off, run around the ring, buck several times, tire herself out, and quit,” Carole said seriously. “The problem is that if you let her take off once, she’d want to do it again, and then again, and pretty soon she’d be uncontrollable.”
“Thanks, Carole,” Stevie said with a touch of sarcasm. Carole was so passionate about horses that sometimes she failed to see when someone was only kidding. She was famous for her long-winded answers to horse-related questions.
Horse Blues Page 2