According to Lisa, Mrs. Reg understood perfectly what had happened, but if she did, then why didn’t she say something?
“Oh, Stevie, lovely sister dear?” Alex whined outside her bedroom door.
“Go away!” Stevie yelled. For good measure she added, “Tu es stupide!”
“You think I’m stupid?” Alex said. “Be careful, or I’ll tell on you to Phil!”
“Tell on me for what?” Stevie demanded, putting her French book down on her desk.
“For dating other guys,” Alex said.
“You really are stupid,” Stevie yelled, annoyed by Alex’s dumb comment. “Or crazy. Probably both.”
“I am? Then who’s your date I see walking up the driveway?”
“Date?” Stevie murmured. “Who could possibly—?” All at once, Stevie remembered. She flung open the door and ran past the astonished Alex. With all of her own postering to do, she’d completely forgotten that Simon Atherton had volunteered to come to her house to pick up his posters.
“Stevie has a new boyfriend! Stevie has a new boyfriend!” Alex followed her down the stairs, taunting her.
“Whoa, Stevie,” said Chad, coming out from the kitchen, his mouth full of grilled cheese sandwich.
“Chad, that’s disgusting, and I don’t have a new boyfriend! Please! Would you give me a little credit? Do you think I’d date a guy like Simon Atherton?” Stevie hissed.
The doorbell rang. Stevie’s youngest brother, Michael, appeared out of nowhere to answer it.
“He doesn’t look that bad,” Chad said, peering through the window.
“Be quiet!” Stevie whispered. “The poor guy is awkward. Very, very awkward. Don’t make it worse for him, okay? Let me do the talking! Got it?” Pasting a smile on her face, Stevie flung open the door. Then she stopped. Her jaw dropped. The pile of posters she was carrying fell to her feet. Behind her, Stevie’s brothers snickered.
Simon smiled politely. Stevie stared rudely. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Simon Atherton was utterly gorgeous.
“OW!” LISA CRIED. It was late in the afternoon, almost dinnertime, and she had just pricked her finger for the third time. “Mrs. Reg!” she called. “Look what I’ve done!”
Mrs. Reg came hurrying from the kitchen with her apron on. “I pricked my finger and it’s bleeding!” said Lisa.
“Let me get a bandage! Does it hurt badly?”
“Hurt? Oh, I don’t care about that. But the blood is staining the material!” Lisa wailed. She held up a partially finished napkin for Mrs. Reg to see.
“Where? I can’t even see it,” Mrs. Reg said.
Lisa pointed to a minuscule orange spot on the white linen.
“Give me that,” Mrs. Reg commanded. She took the napkin, dabbed at it with her sponge, and handed it back. “There. Good as new.”
Lisa thanked Mrs. Reg, picked up her needle, and started in again. She had come over right after school for a marathon embroidery session. After working hard all week on the sampler, learning stitches and practicing them, Lisa had started the napkin set a couple of days before. She had finished one napkin and was now on her second. Mrs. Reg had helped her with the design. They said U.S.P.C. in gray and green, the Horse Wise colors. The border, in brown, was supposed to look like a bridle rein. It actually looked like nothing more than a long, brown line, but Lisa couldn’t go back and fix it now.
“Mrs. Reg?” Lisa said suddenly, looking up from the pattern. Mrs. Reg had remained in the doorway, watching Lisa with an anxious look on her face.
“Yes, dear?”
“I’m not going to finish the tablecloth, am I?”
“No, Lisa.”
“I’m not even going to start it, am I?”
Mrs. Reg shook her head.
Lisa sniffed. She had worked so hard and now she was going to fail. She felt tears well up in her eyes. “In fact, I’ll be lucky if I get through this napkin by Saturday. Why don’t I learn? I always try to do more than I have time for! Now I’ll let Horse Wise down!”
Mrs. Reg put an arm around Lisa’s shoulders. “Now, now, Lisa. That’s not true. You’ll have the napkins for Horse Wise. They’re beautiful.”
“But if I had learned faster …,” Lisa sobbed.
“You learned embroidery faster than anyone I know,” Mrs. Reg said sternly.
“But what will we do for a tablecloth Saturday?”
“We’ll buy paper tablecloths for heaven’s sakes. Nobody cares one bit! People come to buy the goodies—they don’t even notice what’s covering the table.” Mrs. Reg patted Lisa’s hair comfortingly, but Lisa could not stop sobbing. She couldn’t even tell Mrs. Reg the whole truth about why she was upset—that now she was sure to lose the resolution bet. Carole and Stevie would say she had copped out. Sure, she had learned embroidery, but she hadn’t produced the tablecloth.
The doorbell rang and Mrs. Reg stood up to get it. Lisa wiped her eyes on her sleeve and tried to compose herself. She was too distracted to pay much attention to who was at the door. She heard Mrs. Reg greet someone, talk a couple of minutes, and then head back toward the living room. Knowing she should try to be polite, Lisa put down her napkin and looked up expectantly, ready to greet whoever it was.
“I told Simon you were here and he wanted to come in and say hello, Lisa,” Mrs. Reg announced, ushering her guest into the room.
“Hello, Lisa,” said a tall boy who looked a little like Simon Atherton but couldn’t possibly be.
Lisa grinned idiotically. “You—you turned into a swan!” she exclaimed.
Simon blushed red to the tips of his ears. “I did get contact lenses, and my braces are gone,” he mumbled.
And you grew five inches and filled out and got a nice haircut and changed from the nerdiest boy in Willow Creek to one of the cutest, Lisa thought. Remembering her manners, Lisa thanked Simon for all of the help he was contributing to Horse Wise. “Stevie told me you were going to poster and to bake something for Saturday. Are you coming, too?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Simon said.
“All right, Simon, we’d better let Lisa get back to her embroidery. She’s got a deadline to meet,” said Mrs. Reg.
“Yes, I should finish this napkin I’m working on,” Lisa agreed. “Or else—” All of a sudden Lisa’s heart started beating very fast. Her mouth grew dry. “Or else, nothing!” she cried. “Mrs. Reg, I don’t know if I will finish this napkin. Heck, I’ve already broken my resolution by not finishing the tablecloth. Boy, did I break that resolution. You saw me, Mrs. Reg. I wanted to finish it, but I couldn’t, could I? But who cares? Stevie and Carole and I had a little bet over who would break her New Year’s resolution first, and I sure lost. Yes sirree, I’m the big loser. Oh, well—you win some, you lose some, right? And now I’ll just have to take what’s coming to me. Okay, Mrs. Reg, I guess I’ll call my mother to come pick me up now. No sense embroidering all night, is there?”
Mrs. Reg and Simon stared at Lisa as she gathered up her things with lightning speed. Simon was the first to find his voice. “Lisa, if it’s a ride home you desire, my mother is waiting in the car outside and we could drop you off.”
Lisa beamed. That was just the invitation she’d been hoping for. “Wonderful, Simon. I’d love to get a ride with you—if it’s not too much trouble.”
Mrs. Reg watched Simon walk Lisa out to the waiting car. “Funny how certain breeds mature slower than others …,” she murmured to herself.
* * *
WHEN LISA GOT HOME she ran to the phone. She picked up the receiver and was about to punch in a number when her mother appeared.
“Lisa, I need to talk to you about a few last-minute details for Saturday.”
“Mom, can it wait?” Lisa asked, her hand hovering over the push buttons. “I have to call Stevie and Carole right away.”
“Oh, that reminds me. They both called you,” Mrs. Atwood said.
Lisa put the phone down. “They did? Did they leave a message?”
> “Yes, they left two messages, actually. And the messages were rather strange.” Mrs. Atwood pulled a piece of paper out of her pants pocket. “Let’s see … here we go: Stevie called to tell you she just couldn’t hold out any longer. She was very, very mean to Veronica in school today. She wanted me to emphasize the very. And Carole said that she hated to have to tell you, but she ate ten bags of potato chips and cheese popcorn this afternoon. Funny messages to leave, wouldn’t you say?”
“Mom, you didn’t tell them where I was, did you?” Lisa asked breathlessly.
“Yes, I did, dear.” Lisa’s mother leaned over and gave her a hug and kiss. “I told them that you were at Mrs. Reg’s working on your embroidery, that you’d been there all day, and that I was thrilled that my daughter would learn a craft just to please me.”
“Mom!” Lisa wailed, her plans ruined. “How could you?”
THE DAY OF the bake sale was bright and seasonably cold. “It’s as crisp as my molasses cookies,” declared Mrs. Atwood, taking two tins from her bag. “Good weather is always such a promising sign, isn’t it?”
Lisa nodded grimly. The sunny day had done nothing to dispel the black mood she was in. She and her mother had arrived early to get ready for the sale. But as she set up card tables and covered them with paper tablecloths, Lisa felt more like she was getting ready for war. The strange thing was, though, this was a war she was determined to lose! She was going to be the one to call Simon Atherton for a date, no matter what Stevie and Carole thought.
The first thing Lisa had to do was finish making a notice about the helicopter ride over Washington, D.C., which the diAngelos had indeed donated. They were going to sell raffle tickets for the ride at a dollar apiece. At five o’clock, when the sale ended, Veronica was going to announce the winner.
By quarter to eleven, a large number of Pony Clubbers and parents had arrived with their baked goods, including Carole and Colonel Hanson and Stevie and her parents. Finishing her sign, Lisa said hello to her friends. The girls hadn’t seen each other on Friday, because they’d all been home cooking for the bake sale. But instead of talking a mile a minute, the way they usually did—especially after not seeing each other for a day—the girls kept their greetings short.
“Did you get my message?” Stevie asked coolly.
“Yes,” said Lisa, noncommittally, keeping one eye peeled for Simon Atherton.
“Did you get mine?” said Carole, glancing over her shoulder.
“Yes.”
“Come on, girls. You can chitchat later. There’s work to be done,” Mrs. Atwood said. All three of them jumped at the chance to help, glad for the distraction. Mrs. Atwood instructed them to write out price lists, sort change, and tack up directional arrows on telephone poles near the shopping center.
“Let’s split up,” Lisa said at once.
“That’s what I was going to suggest,” Stevie said defensively.
“So was I!” Carole attested. “But first,” she added, “I want to finish this bag of chocolate-covered potato chips that I’ve been eating all week.” With that, Carole reached into the snack bag and crammed a handful into her mouth.
Stevie put her hands on her hips, hazel eyes flashing. She wasn’t going to let Carole lose the bet that easily! “Do you have a pen, Carole?” she asked.
Carole shook her head.
“Darn! I wanted to write a hate letter to Veronica first thing this morning,” Stevie said loudly. “The way I did last Saturday.”
“Gosh, you’ve been busy!” Lisa said, feigning admiration. “I wish I could have gotten that much accomplished. But I haven’t done a thing since—since Christmas break ended. So much for embroidering a tablecloth! Ha! Was that ever a joke!”
Overhearing Lisa’s last remark as she arrived, Mrs. Reg came over and joined the girls. “Now, Lisa, I don’t want you to be unfair to yourself. You worked very hard. And you know how to embroider now. You can make the tablecloth some other time. For now, the napkins are a marvelous accomplishment.”
Stevie giggled as Lisa turned red. “And Stevie,” Mrs. Reg continued, “I wanted to thank you for not tattling on Veronica. You’ve gone out of your way to be nice to her, and don’t think it wasn’t noticed by both me and Max. Say, those look good,” Mrs. Reg said, eyeing Carole’s chips. “You’re finally dropping the health kick, huh?”
“Aaaargh!” cried The Saddle Club in unison as they split up. Trust Mrs. Reg to expose them all!
DESPITE THEIR FEUDING, the girls had finished the tasks Mrs. Atwood had assigned by eleven sharp. The owner of Sights ’n’ Sounds came and unlocked the door of his electronics store in the shopping center. “Save a brownie for me!” the man called.
“Will do,” Mrs. Atwood promised. She turned to the Pony Club group. “All right, everyone, this bake sale is now open for business.”
It was dead quiet for about five minutes. The riders and parents stood around with nothing to do. And then, all at once, the rush started.
“How much for two of these brownies?”
“Can I get a half dozen muffins?”
“I used to be in Pony Club when I was little. I’ll take a piece of chocolate cake.”
“Where’s the change? I need more quarters!”
“Give me two raffle tickets—no, make it three.”
“Are we out of chippers or not?”
“Excuse me, but didn’t your daughter once ride in Horse Wise? Do you think—”
“Mrs. Atwood, help! I added this wrong!”
The minutes, then the hours, ticked by. Supplies dwindled. First they ran out of cookies. Then brownies. But the crowd in front of the table got bigger and bigger. People came to shop, stayed to buy a treat or a raffle ticket, and ended up adding their children’s names to a Horse Wise mailing list. Nobody seemed to mind the cold weather. With the sun out, it was almost pleasant. Many of the parents had brought hot chocolate or coffee in thermoses, which they shared with everyone. At one table Carole led a discussion about the benefits of learning to ride in Pony Club. At another Mrs. Atwood stuffed envelopes full of cash. The biggest surprise was that Max, knowing nothing about the bake sale, came to the shopping center and found his Pony Club fund-raising and recruiting at full tilt. “Keep up the great work!” he urged Mrs. Atwood and the volunteers, clearly delighted.
Looking at her mother during a rare free minute, Lisa felt a pang of guilt. She had worked so hard to get everything and everyone organized. True, she had loved the sampler that Lisa had given her. But Lisa wished that she, Carole, and Stevie could bury the hatchet in honor of the sale. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the enthusiastic expressions on their faces as they chatted with customers. For too long, things hadn’t been right between them. And Lisa knew why. All at once, she made up her mind. She was going to go over to them and say, “Let’s forget we ever made resolutions in the first place, okay?” She turned and crashed right into Simon Atherton.
“Sorry I’m late, Lisa. I was waiting for—”
Like hawks over prey, Stevie and Carole were on them in a second. “Simon, how are you?” Carole asked, bursting in.
“Excuse me,” Stevie interrupted, “but I saved a place for Simon at my table.”
“Did you, Stevie? Because my mother is running this bake sale, and she told me that Simon is supposed to work with me!” Lisa snapped.
“I’ll bet,” Stevie said sarcastically. “I’ll just bet she did!”
“Do you guys want to have your fight somewhere else?” Carole demanded. “Because Simon and I are here to help Horse Wise Pony Club!”
“So, now you’re claiming him, too!” Lisa spat. “Even though he liked me first!”
None of the girls noticed Simon turn red and slip quietly away, for in a matter of minutes, the sparring turned into full-out war. The girls stood there, a few feet from the table, and screamed at one another.
“It’s all your fault, Lisa!” Stevie yelled. “You started the whole thing!”
“Me?” Lisa cried.
/> “Yes, you!”
“Stevie’s right! You thought up the resolutions!” Carole said accusingly.
“You thought up mine!” Lisa shot back. “And you didn’t have to agree to do them in the first place!”
“You pressured us into it!” Carole cried.
“Lisa wasn’t the only one! Both of you ganged up on me!” Stevie shrieked.
“No, both of you ganged up on me!” Lisa wailed. “I was just trying to help you improve yourselves!”
“Maybe we don’t feel like we needed improving!” Stevie barked. “You’re the overachiever, not us!”
“Speak for yourself, Stevie! I liked my resolution!” Carole yelled.
“Probably because you cheated on it a million times!”
“That’s not fair! You cheated on yours, too!”
The three of them paused to breathe. And in the second they stopped yelling at one another, something became painfully clear. The entire bake sale—the Pony Clubbers, the mothers, the fathers, the residents on their way to or from the stores, Mrs. Reg, Max, Veronica, and Simon Atherton—were all staring at The Saddle Club in horror, fascination, and disbelief.
More embarrassed than they had ever been in their lives, Stevie, Lisa, and Carole froze in their places. They didn’t dare move. An excruciating minute elapsed. Then Simon Atherton rose to the occasion. “As we always say,” he told the crowd, “Pony Club forms great friendships.”
When the laughter died down, Simon waved his hands for silence. “Speaking of friendships, I’d like to introduce you to a very special friend of mine. Veronica, will you come up and announce the raffle winner?”
“I’d love to, Si,” cooed Veronica. She sashayed over to the table and squeezed Simon’s hand. The Saddle Club stared at them and then at one another in shock.
“Let’s see … it’s number two-twenty. Number two-twenty? Oh, wait a minute. How silly of me,” Veronica giggled. She reached into her pocketbook and took out an entire book of raffle stubs. “That’s one of the tickets I bought! I won my very own raffle!”
Horse Blues Page 8