Horse Talk

by Bonnie Bryant

  There was a short pause while they looked at one another. By now the phone was supposed to have rung. They weren’t supposed to air their first commercial for seven more minutes. “That’s 555–8151,” Lisa repeated. “And, uh, I’m Lisa Atwood, and, uh—” Mrs. Klemme had told them and told them not to say uh. Lisa felt herself blushing. She was glad she was on the radio, where no one could see.

  “We’re Horse Talk, live from Pine Hollow!” Carole cut in. Lisa gave her a grateful look. It wasn’t the most fabulous statement in the world, but it gave Lisa a chance to recover. No matter what, Mrs. Klemme had told them, they were to avoid broadcasting silence. That was called dead air, and it was the worst thing that could happen in radio. You always had to give people something to listen to.

  “And our number is 555–8151. We’re waiting to take your calls,” Lisa said. The phone was still dead. Lisa wondered if somehow they’d managed to unplug it by mistake. She gestured to Stevie to check the cord. “Maybe we should tell our listeners a little about ourselves, Carole. How long have you been riding?”

  Carole gave a little laugh that came out as a squeak. She rolled her eyes in agony. “Well, I can’t really remember when I started taking lessons,” she said. “My mother rode, and my father is in the Marine Corps, and there are usually stables on base. I guess you could say I grew up with horses.”

  Stevie gestured to show that the phone was plugged in. She picked up the receiver and checked for a dial tone. “Put it down,” Carole whispered fiercely. “What if someone finally called in and got a busy signal?”

  “I’m the opposite of Carole,” Lisa said into the microphone. “I started riding rather late in life, and I’ve only been doing it for a few years. I guess I’m proof that you don’t have to grow up with horses to love them. Here at Pine Hollow Stables, the owner, Max Regnery, even teaches adult beginners to ride.”

  “There are really no age restrictions,” Carole said. “We’ll take calls from people of any age, too. Remember, our number is 555–8151.” She slapped her forehead. Boy, did that sound dumb!

  Lisa started to say something, but her mind locked up. “Uhhh—”

  “Commercial break!” Carole blurted. She hit the button that started the first advertising tape. All three girls sighed in relief. They had two minutes to talk to each other off the air before the ads were done.

  “That was only four and a half minutes!” Lisa said.

  “I know,” Carole groaned. “I ran the ad too early, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.”

  “I was sure stuck,” Lisa said. “I thought this would be easy, and all I can manage to say is uh! What are we going to do for an hour?”

  Carole shook her head.

  “The time will go faster once you start answering questions,” Stevie said soothingly.

  “We need questions,” Carole said. “Stevie, do something. Find someone to call in.”

  “I will,” Stevie promised. She slipped down the aisle.

  Lisa looked at the clock. They had forty-five seconds left before the ad tape finished. “What are we going to say?”

  “Well,” Carole suggested, “maybe you could ask me about Starlight. Then we could talk about how to choose a horse. After that—I don’t know, maybe you could explain the colors of horses or something like that.”

  The colors of horses! Lisa shook her head. “I hope we don’t get that desperate,” she said. But she couldn’t think of a better topic. She hoped the phone would ring.

  “Stevie will do something,” Carole said comfortingly as the tape finished and Horse Talk went back on the air.

  STEVIE HURRIED THROUGH the stable. On Wednesdays, Max taught many of the younger riders. Their lesson had ended at four o’clock, so they were all still in the stable taking care of their horses.

  “Hi, Stevie!” Jessica Adler said. “Why aren’t you listening to Carole and Lisa? Max said he was going to try to find a radio.” Jessica smiled at Stevie, and Stevie smiled back. Stevie really liked the little girl. When Jessica had first come to Pine Hollow, she had been shy and very lonely, but she’d warmed up to The Saddle Club right away.

  “They need callers,” Stevie explained. “Call in and ask a question, okay?”

  Jessica frowned. “But they’re using the phone. I don’t have anywhere to call from.”

  “Use the pay phone.”

  “I don’t have a quarter.”

  Stevie frowned. Neither did she. “Well, come with me and we’ll figure something out.”

  Jessica looked sorry. “I can’t, I have to leave early—” A car horn honked outside.

  “That’s okay, go,” Stevie said. “I’ll find someone else.”

  “I’ll do it next time!” Jessica ran out of the stable.

  Jessica’s shout reverberated through the stable. Lisa flinched. The car horn had been broadcast, too. She was beginning to understand the dangers of using a remote location. Why hadn’t they chosen the school’s quiet sound station? Any minute now, some kid was going to barge in, shouting that they needed something from the tack room. “So, Carole,” Lisa said, “perhaps we should advise our listeners as to how to choose a horse.”

  “Good question, Lisa,” Carole said. “The first consideration, of course …”

  * * *

  “C’MON, MAY,” STEVIE urged. “Do it for Carole.”

  “I haven’t got any questions,” May said. “I’ll come up with some by next week, I promise.”

  “If there is a next week,” Stevie muttered. Horse Talk! She wondered what Carole and Lisa were talking about.

  Stevie spied Janey cleaning out Nickel’s water bucket. “Perfect!” she said. She went into the stall and grabbed Janey by the arm. “C’mon, I need your help,” she said as she pulled Janey out and latched the door. “You’re my little sister, so you can’t say no.”

  Janey didn’t seem unwilling. “Where are we going?”

  “To Max and Deborah’s house. I need you to help me make a phone call.”

  To Stevie’s surprise, Janey grinned. “Okay. Who’re we calling?”

  “Lisa and Carole. It’s for their radio show. You know, Horse Talk.” Stevie didn’t elaborate. Everyone at Pine Hollow knew about the radio show. She ran up the steps of Max’s house with Janey close on her heels. There was a phone in the living room, right off the front hall. Stevie dialed the office phone number and thrust the receiver at Janey. “Here you go.”

  “Hi, Lisa!” Janey said brightly. “Hi, Carole! Are you guys having fun? I wanted to look for something in the tack room, but Max said you were busy.”

  Inside the stable, Lisa gulped in horror. They had the phone hooked straight up to their equipment, so Janey’s casual comment was broadcast to the world. “H-Hello, caller,” Lisa stammered, in what she hoped was a very professional tone. “How may we help you?”

  Inside Max’s living room, Stevie grabbed Janey’s shoulder and shook it. “You’re not supposed to know them,” she whispered.

  Janey looked confused. “But I do know them,” she said. She still held the receiver next to her chin, and Stevie knew that the radio audience could hear every word.

  “Ask them a question,” she whispered.

  “But I don’t have a question,” Janey whispered back.

  Finally, Lisa figured out how to handle Janey’s call: She hung up the phone. “Whoops, we got cut off,” she said cheerfully. “Remember, we’re Horse Talk, and our phone number is 555–8151.”

  Janey rubbed her shoulder where Stevie had grabbed her. “They hung up,” she said, sounding hurt.

  Stevie took the phone away from her. “It’s a good thing!” she said. “Why did you act like you knew them? This is supposed to be a radio show! You’re supposed to be asking them for advice!”

  Janey drew her eyebrows together and pushed out her lower lip. “You didn’t tell me,” she said. “You said, ‘Help me make a phone call,’ and I did.” She turned and stalked out of Max’s house.

  Stevie sighed in exaspera
tion. Nothing was going right. With a growing sense of desperation, she picked up the phone and redialed.

  Brrrnng! Carole’s and Lisa’s hands collided in the air over the Answer button. “Another question!” Lisa chirped, gesturing for Carole to answer it. “I guess we’ll resume our discussion about the colors of horses some other time.”

  “Horse Talk!” Carole said. “How may we help you?”

  “Uhhh …,” the caller said. “Um, could you tell me what color a palomino is?”

  Carole looked at Lisa, who nodded. They’d heard that voice on their phones at home a hundred times in the past three months alone. It was Stevie. And Stevie must not be anywhere near a radio, because Carole had actually just discussed palomino horses thirty seconds before.

  “Okay,” Carole said, trying hard to sound cheerful and helpful, “I’ll go over that again. A palomino is a golden-haired horse. A blond.”

  “Thank you,” Stevie said, and hung up. Carole hit the button to hang up, but she wished Stevie had stayed on the line. What would they talk about now?

  “We’re Horse Talk,” Lisa said. “555–8151.” The phone rang again, and Lisa jabbed the button in relief.

  “Hi,” said the caller. It was Stevie again. “I take riding lessons, and I’m having a little trouble when I jump fences. My body comes too far out of the saddle. Any advice?”

  “Sure,” Carole said. “You could try gymnastic exercises.”

  “Remember to wait for the horse,” Lisa added. “Let him jump; don’t try to jump the fence for him.”

  “Thanks,” Stevie said. Lisa hung up. The phone rang again immediately, and it was Stevie asking whether polo wraps or shin boots were better protection for open jumpers.

  That was the way the rest of the show went. After every call, Lisa hung up, the phone rang again immediately, and it was always Stevie. At some point she must have found a Pony Club manual in Max and Deborah’s living room, because the questions she asked became more like a Pony Club examination: “What are the four natural aids?” “When you are jumping, should your stirrups be longer or shorter than when you are not?” “How often do horses require vaccinations?” Fortunately, all this was material Carole could rattle off with ease. Unfortunately, every question and answer took less than a minute, so Stevie had to come up with a lot of questions.

  The minute hand on the clock slowly dragged its way back to the top of the hour. Lisa felt as though all her life force had been drained from her. Every time the phone rang, she hoped that it would finally be a real, non-Stevie question, and every time she heard Stevie’s voice her hopes were cruelly dashed. It wasn’t Stevie’s fault—what would they have done without her? They would have ended up with the deadest of dead air, broken only by Lisa saying, “Uh.”

  Worst of all, thought Lisa, Horse Talk was boring. It had to be obvious to anyone who was listening for very long that all the questions were coming from one person. And if it was that obvious, no one was going to listen very long.

  The hour felt like a week, but finally it came to an end. Lisa managed a semicheerful, “See you next week at the same time, from the same place, beautiful Pine Hollow Stables. We’re Horse Talk!” Carole pushed the button that started their exit music before they both collapsed across the table.

  “I can’t move,” Carole muttered. “I think I’ll just lie here until next week. After all the questions I answered, I ought to be a B-rated Pony Clubber by now, at least.”

  “Uh-huh,” agreed Lisa. It felt so good to be able to say “uh” without panicking that she said it a few more times. “Uh. Uh. Uhhh.”

  “Uh or ugh?” Stevie asked. She came in and threw herself dramatically across the floor. “Not that I mind—I’d do anything for you guys—but my fingers are practically bleeding from dialing 555–8151 that many times. Why can’t Max join the twentieth century and get speed dial on his phone?”

  “Don’t know,” said Lisa. She started to lift her head to look at Stevie, but it was too much effort, so she put her head back down.

  “You know what’s really awful?” Carole asked without moving. “We have to do this three more times.”

  “Ugh,” said Lisa. “Definitely ugh.”

  “YOU WON’T BELIEVE what Mrs. Klemme said to me in the hall today,” Carole told Lisa and Stevie with a groan. It was Friday night, and The Saddle Club was having a sleepover at Stevie’s house. The girls were making plans for the next Horse Talk.

  “What?” asked Stevie. “She’s the radio program moderator, right?”

  Carole nodded. “After apologizing for not being with us for the broadcast, she said we did a great job and obviously didn’t need her! She said that we spoke clearly and slowly, and we seemed comfortable on the air—”

  “She must not have listened to the beginning,” Lisa muttered.

  “—but she was surprised by how technical the call-in questions were,” Carole continued. “She said we should try to encourage more general questions, too.”

  Lisa snorted. “Did she suggest any ways to encourage more questioners? That seemed to be our problem.”

  Carole shook her head. “I’m not sure she realized that it was just one person calling in.”

  Lisa shrugged. She was trying hard not to feel bitter about the whole radio program. Horse Talk had been her idea, and she liked to be successful in everything. So far she couldn’t count Horse Talk a success, and she didn’t have much hope for its improving. “Mrs. Klemme told me she was impressed with how much you and I knew about horses,” she told Carole.

  “Most people don’t know much at all,” Stevie commented. She stuck her head under her bed and retrieved a few horse books that were gathering dust there. “I mean, no one else in our families has any clue. Most of the kids at school don’t ride. Even a lot of people who like horses don’t get the chance to learn much about them. When you think about it, Horse Talk is a public service.”

  “Two people have told me they were listening,” Lisa said. “Two. That’s all.”

  “I think Max found a radio by the end,” Carole said.

  “Anyway,” Lisa said, forcing a smile because she didn’t want to inflict her bad mood on her friends, “this week we’ll be prepared to not get questions. Is that all your books, Stevie?”

  “Yep.” Stevie added the ones from underneath the bed to a waist-high pile beside the bed. “Except for fiction, of course.”

  Lisa emptied her backpack. “I didn’t bring the ones that I knew you already had.”

  Carole patted a bulging duffel bag. “I brought as many of mine as I could. They wouldn’t all fit.” Lisa and Stevie laughed. No wonder Carole knew so much about horses! She must have had ten books on jumping alone.

  The Saddle Club had faced up to the fact that they might not get real callers for Horse Talk. The best way to be prepared, they had decided, was to make a list of good questions that Stevie could ask. That way they would always have something interesting, or at least relevant, to say. They were going to read through all their horse books for ideas.

  “I was talking to my mom about the gardening show she listens to,” Lisa said as she sharpened her pencil and took a fresh pad of paper out of her bag. “She says that the master gardener usually doesn’t answer more than about fifteen questions per show.”

  “Fifteen!” Stevie exclaimed. “I asked at least fifty!”

  “Right,” Lisa said. “See, Mom says that the gardener talks to each caller for a while. He asks for details about their problem, and he discusses his solution, and they chitchat. Sometimes they make little jokes. And the gardener always talks to his callers by name. ‘Well, Jeremy, it sounds to me like your philodendron has an advanced case of root rot.’ Like that.”

  “By name!” Stevie rolled her eyes in mock horror. “That’ll work great for my first phone call. After that it’ll be”—she dropped her voice in a bad imitation of Max—“ ‘Oh, here’s Stevie again! Doesn’t Stevie know anything about horses? Why does Stevie keep calling?’ ”

  C
arole tapped her cheek with her fingers. “We could make up names to go with the questions. It’s a pretty good idea, really,” she said. “If we take longer to answer each question, then we won’t need to ask as many. It’ll be easier.”

  “Plus, it’ll sound more professional,” Lisa said. “If we chat with our callers, and they all have different names, then no one will guess that they’re really all Stevie.”

  “I guess I could try to disguise my voice,” Stevie said.

  “Sure,” Lisa said. “It’ll be easy. All it takes is a little practice.”

  Someone banged on Stevie’s bedroom door. “Knock it off, Chad!” Stevie yelled without getting up. Stevie had three brothers, one older, one younger, and one twin. Chad, the oldest, was the only one who constantly bugged her.

  Chad stuck his head in the door. “Mom says to tell you it’s time for dinner.”

  Stevie and her friends got up. “Why didn’t you say so right away, instead of knocking holes through my door?” Stevie groused. Chad sneered at her and ran down the stairs.

  “Think of names,” Lisa said. “We’ll make a list after dinner.”

  “Oh, I’m thinking of names, all right,” Stevie muttered, glaring at her brother’s disappearing back. “They just aren’t names I can use on the air.”

  “MARILLA,” LISA SAID, writing it down. “I like that one.”

  “From Anne of Green Gables?” Stevie asked. “She was kind of a crabby old housewife, wasn’t she? Let’s see, Marilla can say, ‘I don’t understand why horses have to wear shoes on their feet. Can you explain it to me?’ ” Stevie’s Marilla voice was high and a little strained.

  “Great,” said Carole. “That’s a good question, too, because it’ll take a long time to answer. You want to avoid yes-no questions, and try to ask ones that we can discuss on the air for a while.”

  “Do you think you could imitate a boy’s voice?” Lisa asked. Stevie had gone through several characters, but so far they had all been female.