“You’re welcome, Merrill,” he replied. “Nice work.” Seeing how uncomfortable she was with all the attention, Max allowed her to hurry back to her table, where The Saddle Club greeted her with congratulations and pats on the back. Merrill accepted both happily.
“That’s it for the awards,” Max said. “Now let’s eat!”
“Thank goodness,” Stevie declared, as Red and Mrs. Reg entered with trays piled high with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, homemade cornbread, and all sorts of other good things. “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!”
AFTER EVERYONE HAD eaten, Max stepped to the center of the ring again. “Now we have a special treat,” he said. “Just when you thought you couldn’t eat another bite, you’re going to have to find room somewhere, because …”
He gestured to the door. Mrs. Reg entered, bearing a huge, white-frosted cake on a silver tray. She carried it over to the table where The Saddle Club was sitting. Written on the top of the cake in icing were the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY MERRILL AND JOE. Mrs. Reg pulled a book of matches out of her pocket and started lighting the candles, which formed a ring around the letters.
“We’re celebrating a couple of birthdays today,” Max said. “Joe, pull up a chair. You and Merrill are going to have to work to blow out all of those candles.”
Joe grinned and obeyed, dragging his chair over to the table and inserting it between Merrill and Lisa. “I’m ready when you are, Merrill,” he announced when all the candles had been lit.
Merrill was blushing again, but she was smiling, too. “I’m ready,” she said.
“Okay, then, on the count of three,” Max said. “One … two … three … blow!”
Merrill and Joe blew out all the candles in one try.
“I hope you made a wish!” Stevie cried.
Joe smiled at Merrill. “I did,” he replied. Only Merrill’s friends could tell that the already pink-cheeked Merrill turned even pinker.
“Okay, everybody, line up,” Mrs. Reg said. She stepped forward with a cake knife and began cutting large slices.
“Now,” Max began, when everyone was munching happily on the delicious cake, “it’s time for something I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for. In honor of our birthday girl and boy, and thanks to our tireless planner of party fun—Stevie Lake—it’s time for the Yankee Swap!”
Everyone headed for the wide main aisle, where they had left their wrapped gifts. Red dragged the box into the center of the aisle. Stevie hurried forward to help him take out the gifts, which were all sorts of interesting shapes and sizes, and arrange them so everyone could see.
“Come on, sit down in a circle,” Stevie directed the other students. “You too, Max, Red, Mrs. Reg. You wanted to be part of this, you know.”
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mrs. Reg said. She had dragged a chair from one of the tables in the ring. “But no sitting on the ground for me. I’m not as young as the rest of you, you know.”
Soon they were ready to start. Stevie quickly explained the rules once again. “So once you’ve chosen your gift and unwrapped it, you decide whether you want what you’ve picked or if you’d rather trade with someone else who has already picked. Then you just have to wait and see whether you get to keep what you chose,” she said. “Anyone who picks after you can decide to trade with you if they want to. So you really never know what gift you’re going to end up with. Everybody get it?”
“Got it,” several people responded.
“Good,” Stevie said. “Now for the order. Plain old alphabetical is so boring, don’t you think? Besides, we don’t want Max to be able to go last and have his pick of the prizes. So I have a better idea. We’ll go in reverse alphabetical order according to first names.”
“So where does that put me?” Mrs. Reg asked mischievously.
Stevie realized that none of them knew Mrs. Reg’s first name. And she could tell by the grin on the woman’s face that she wasn’t about to tell. Stevie thought fast. “Why, between Polly and Merrill, of course,” she said calmly. “For ‘Missus.’ ”
Everyone laughed, Mrs. Reg loudest of all. “That works for me,” she declared.
“Great,” Stevie said. She smiled sweetly at Veronica. “That means you go first, Veronica.”
Giving Stevie a suspicious look, Veronica tossed her long, straight hair behind her shoulder. Then she leaned forward to examine the selection of gifts. “Oh, this one looks good,” she said, reaching for a package in the middle of the pile. It was beautifully wrapped in the distinctive gold and white paper of Maxwell’s Boutique. “Maxwell’s is my favorite store,” she added smugly, ripping away the paper.
Veronica opened the white box underneath the paper and peeked inside expectantly. Then her face darkened into a frown. “What’s the big idea?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes and staring at Stevie.
“What do you mean, Veronica?” Stevie asked, playing innocent. “What did you get?”
Veronica turned the box over and dumped its contents out. Onto the floor tumbled a large, black, dirty lump of coal.
The other students burst into laughter. That made Veronica frown even harder. “You’re responsible for this little joke, aren’t you, Stevie Lake?” she demanded icily.
Stevie just grinned. “You know we’re not supposed to tell which gift we brought until the end,” she said. “But I guess this should teach you not to judge a gift by its packaging, right, Veronica?” Ignoring the other girl’s baleful glare, she turned away. “Okay, I guess I’m next, right?”
She grabbed one of the gifts from the pile and tore off the paper. Inside was a rolled-up poster. “Hey, great,” she said. “I hope it’s a …” Her voice trailed off as she unfurled the poster and saw the leaping ballerina pictured on it. “Oh, um, well, it’s very nice,” she finished lamely. Stevie was not a big ballet fan. Still, she knew that someone would probably trade with her for it—Lisa had taken ballet lessons for a few years, and Meg Durham was still taking them. “Simon, you’re next.”
Simon Atherton peered at the pile of packages. “Gosh, this is a hard decision,” he exclaimed. “They all look so beautiful. Well, here goes.” He picked up a rectangular package wrapped in blue paper and opened it.
“What is it?” asked Stevie eagerly.
Simon held it up. It was a paperback book called Advanced Training Methods. “Somehow I don’t think this is the gift that was intended for me,” he joked. Simon was the newest rider in the entire class, and he certainly wasn’t ready for any advanced training.
“Don’t worry, Simon,” said Max. “I’m sure someone will want to trade you for that.” He glanced at Carole, who was staring at the book eagerly. “Who’s next? Red, I think it’s you.”
“Wait a minute,” said Simon. “I want to trade … with Stephanie.”
Stevie looked surprised. “Are you a ballet fan, Simon?” she asked.
He shrugged. “No. But my sister might like it. And nobody in my family is an advanced rider.”
Stevie tossed Simon the poster. “Go ahead, Red,” she urged.
Red made his selection quickly. He unwrapped a brightly wrapped package that turned out to contain a roll of 35 millimeter film and a pretty picture frame. He shrugged. “Well, I do have a camera,” he said. “At least I think I do. I haven’t used it in a while.”
“Do you want to trade with me or Simon, Red?” Stevie asked eagerly. “Oh, or with Veronica?” She knew that the game was more fun when there was lots of trading. She was also hoping that nobody would offer to trade with Veronica. She had the funniest feeling she was pretty safe in that hope.
Red shook his head. “I think I’ll stick with the film for now.”
It was Polly’s turn next. She grabbed a small, square gift wrapped in pretty floral paper and tied with a big bow. Opening the box inside, she pulled out a mug. “Hmm,” she said. “I’m not sure this gift is me.” She held up the mug so everyone could see. Printed on it was “#1 Mom.”
“Well, I guess we all know who that
gift was meant for,” Carole commented with a smile. Mrs. Reg was the only mother in the room.
“I’m going to trade,” Polly announced, putting the mug back in its box. “Red, hand over that film.”
“You mean I’m the number-one Mom?” Red asked, accepting the box that Polly handed him. “I’m so touched.”
“Go ahead, Mrs. Reg, it’s your turn,” Carole said.
Mrs. Reg examined the remaining gifts for a moment and then leaned forward to pick up a flat rectangular one. Carole gasped as she recognized her gift for Joe Novick. Somehow she couldn’t picture Mrs. Reg wearing the brightly colored World Cup T-shirt.
Apparently nobody else could, either, because everyone laughed when she pulled it out of the box. “Oh, it’s lovely,” she said, holding it up against her. “But look, it’s not my size,” she added, pretending to be disappointed. “I guess I’ll have to trade.” She glanced around the circle. Everyone waited for her to reach for the mug, but instead she nodded at Simon. “I’ll take that ballet poster, Simon,” she said, handing him the T-shirt. “I hope your sister won’t be too disappointed.”
Stevie watched as Simon took the shirt and passed the poster to Mrs. Reg. “Next—” she began, but Mrs. Reg interrupted.
“Wait a minute here,” she said. “It’s still my turn. I think I’ll make another trade. Is that allowed?”
Stevie shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” she said. “Like you said, it’s still your turn.”
“Good,” Mrs. Reg said with a smile. “Then I think I’ll take that mug. Sorry, Red. But at least you get this lovely poster in return.”
“Terrific,” Red replied, making the exchange. “I’ll have to hang this up on the door of the closet where I keep my tutu.”
“Your turn, Merrill,” Stevie said. “Go ahead, and make sure you pick something good. It’s your birthday, after all.”
Merrill picked a package that turned out to contain two pairs of brightly colored socks. One of them was black with bright green horses, and the other was hot pink with orange and purple swirls.
“Gee, I wonder who those are meant for,” Lisa commented, glancing at Betsy, who was wearing purple and yellow polka-dot socks under her sneakers.
“Do you want to trade with someone, Merrill?” Joe asked.
Merrill shook her head. “I’ll stick with the socks for now,” she replied. Lisa suspected that Merrill’s shyness prevented her from making a trade—she had been eyeing the ballet poster admiringly—but she didn’t say anything to change her mind. There was only so much The Saddle Club could do to try to make Merrill bolder, and they had already made great progress in the last week. There was no point in embarrassing her by insisting she make a trade.
“I’m next, right?” Meg spoke up eagerly. She chose a package wrapped in shiny blue and white paper. Inside were several tubes of oil paint. Meg looked perplexed. “Paint?” she said. “Who is this for?”
Stevie shrugged. As far as she knew, nobody in the room was a serious painter. If she hadn’t been sure Simon had been the one to buy Mrs. Reg the silly #1 Mom mug, she would have suspected him of buying the paint. He was always a few steps behind everyone else, and was more likely than anyone else to pick an inappropriate gift. “Do you want to trade it away?” she asked Meg.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Meg declared. “Red, sorry to do it, but I want that ballet poster. It’s of my favorite dancer.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry to stick you with the paint.”
“That’s quite all right,” Red said, catching the paint tubes as she tossed them to him. Lisa thought he looked pleased with the trade.
“Do you do any painting, Red?” she asked curiously.
“As a matter of fact, I have been known to dabble,” he replied shyly.
“Dabble?” Betsy exclaimed. “Don’t be modest, Red. He’s a great artist! You should see some of the paintings of horses he’s done.”
“Really?” Stevie said, looking at Red with new interest. She hadn’t known about this side of him. Luckily, whoever had drawn his name—and she strongly suspected it was Betsy—had known. That was another great thing about this game. You never knew what you were going to find out about the people you played with. “Max, you’re next.”
“Well, let’s see,” Max said, glancing over the diminished pile of gifts. “I’ll take this big square box here, I guess.” He unwrapped it and pulled out a computer game called Pizza Parlor. “Hmm,” was all he had to say when he saw it.
Mrs. Reg had a little more to say once she stopped laughing. “A computer game for you, Max?” she said. “You’re lucky if you can find the button to turn the computer on.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “For your information, I’ve been practicing on Deborah’s PC, and I’m almost computer literate. I’m sure I could figure out how to play this—uh—what exactly is the point of a game called ‘Pizza Parlor,’ anyway?”
“Oh, it’s great, Max!” said Polly. “I’ve been dying to get it. You have to open and run your own computer pizza parlor. There are all kinds of obstacles you have to overcome, like rats and bad cheese and a mean landlord—”
“Sounds fascinating,” Max interrupted. “But not for me. I’ll trade with Stevie for that book.”
Stevie willingly handed over Advanced Training Methods. She glanced at the computer game. It did look interesting. She doubted it was the gift that had been meant for her, but she wouldn’t mind if she ended up with it.
Then Stevie stole a glance at Veronica. She was sitting with her arms folded and a grumpy look on her face. The lump of coal was still sitting where she’d dropped it among the remains of the fancy Maxwell’s paper. Stevie tried hard to hold back a grin. “Your turn, Lorraine,” she said.
Lorraine chose a gift that Lisa knew well. It contained the currycomb and cat toy intended for Simon. Lorraine looked mystified when she opened it, but Simon began chuckling immediately. He glanced at The Saddle Club.
“Well, I don’t know who this is meant for, but I don’t think it’s me,” Lorraine said. “What’s so funny, Simon?”
Simon tried to control himself. “Oh, nothing, Lorraine,” he said. “But I think I know who it was meant for—me.” He quickly described his experience with his sister’s currycomb-loving cat.
Lorraine shrugged. “Well, in that case, it’s all yours,” she said. “Hand over the shirt.” She held up the soccer T-shirt and looked it over. “Hmm, somehow this isn’t quite my style. I’m going to make another trade,” she declared. “This time I’ll trade with Merrill.”
Merrill passed Lorraine the socks and accepted the shirt in return.
“I’m not sure that shirt is Merrill’s style, either, but hey, that’s how this game goes,” Stevie said. “Lisa, it’s your turn.”
Lisa picked up the largest of the remaining packages. “I’m not sure what this is, but it’s such a strange shape I can’t resist,” she said. She unwrapped it. “A bullhorn?” Lisa held it up. It was a bright yellow plastic bullhorn with the words I’M THE BOSS! stamped on the side in large red letters. Lisa giggled. “This one’s getting traded,” she declared. “I think it’s more appropriate for someone with a much bigger mouth than me.”
Max gave her a suspicious look. The bullhorn was clearly intended for him, but it wasn’t like Lisa to call him a big mouth.
Lisa smiled. “That’s why I’m trading with Stevie,” she said, reaching over to grab the computer game from Stevie’s lap. “But that’s not all,” she added, pointing to Polly. “I’ll take that film—I just finished my last roll.”
“Great!” Polly exclaimed, happily taking the computer game from Lisa.
Joe was next. He eagerly ripped the paper off his package and found a baseball cap with HONORARY HORSE WISE MEMBER stitched on the front.
“Honorary?” he exclaimed, pretending to be shocked. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Max? Am I being kicked out?”
“We voted you out, Joe,” Stevie joked. �
��You’re honorary from now on. Sorry you had to find out this way.”
“Just for that, I’m going to trade with you, Stevie,” Joe said, tossing the cap at her. “Let’s see how you like being honorary.”
Stevie lobbed the bullhorn at him. “Okay, then, you can be the resident big mouth for a while,” she replied with a grin.
“Not for long,” he replied. “I’m making another trade. There’s no way I’m letting Merrill keep that soccer T-shirt. I’ve been wanting a World Cup shirt for ages.”
Merrill passed him the shirt and took the bullhorn. “Does this mean I get to be the stable big mouth?” she asked. Everyone laughed at that, including Merrill.
“My turn, my turn!” Carole exclaimed, bouncing up and down. There were only three gifts left in the pile now, and she grabbed one. “Boy, this is heavy,” she commented as she unwrapped it. The gift turned out to be a crystal paperweight shaped like a soccer ball.
“Wow,” Lisa commented when she saw it. The paperweight had clearly cost more than the ten dollars they were supposed to spend, and that could only mean one thing—it was from Veronica diAngelo.
Stevie rolled her eyes. If she hadn’t known that Carole had picked Joe’s name, she would have suspected that Veronica had bought the paperweight for him. So whom had she bought it for? Nobody else in the room was particularly interested in soccer, as far as she knew.
“I’m trading,” Carole announced. “I’ve had my eye on that training book this whole time. Hand it over, Max.”
“Is it finally my turn now?” Betsy asked. She took one of the two gifts that were left. It was small and thin. “Maybe it’s money,” she guessed hopefully as she slit open the paper and pulled out a thick sheet of paper. “Hey, almost,” she said with a smile. She waved the paper. “It’s a gift certificate for TD’s.”
Stevie sat up and looked at the gift certificate with interest. “Are you going to trade?” she asked Betsy.
Betsy nodded. “But not with you, Stevie. Sorry,” she said. “I want those socks.” She passed the gift certificate down to Lorraine.
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