“Score!”
The only people more surprised than the Cross County Pony Clubbers were the Horse Wise Pony Clubbers.
“Yoweeeee!” cried Stevie.
The chukka was almost over by then, but there was enough time left for Cross County to score. Mr. Baker tossed in the ball. The Cross County Attack caught the ball on the fly and tossed it to their Center, who tossed it back to the Attack. The two of them played a game of keep-away as they rode down the field and, when the Attack crossed the penalty line, Lisa was waiting for them. She did everything she could to stop the ball from going in, but it wasn’t enough. “Score!”
Bzzzzzzzp! The buzzer for the end of the chukka sounded.
Carole, Lisa, and Marie rode off the field triumphant. Their teammates greeted them and hugged them.
“Hey, guys, it’s not over!” Carole reminded them. But as far as Lisa and Carole were concerned, the rest didn’t matter. The fact was they were playing and they were giving Cross County a run for their money. That was what really mattered. The rest was just for fun.
Two minutes later, the second chukka started. Betsy and Polly were doing a fine job, but there was definitely something wrong with Adam. He was playing Center and he seemed to be almost out of it. He waved his racquet weakly at balls he ought to have caught, and once it seemed as if he was almost off-balance on his horse.
“What’s the matter with him?” Carole asked.
“Look at him,” Lisa said. “Unless my eyes deceive me, he’s pale and sweaty and I don’t think it’s from playing polocrosse. Personally, I think he’s sick.”
“Sick?” Carole said, as if she’d never heard the word before. Then she looked for herself. Adam was definitely not feeling well. She nudged Stevie. “Look at Adam,” she said. “He’s sick.”
“He will be when I’m through with him!” Stevie said through clenched teeth. “He just missed an easy pass and doesn’t even seem to know which end of the field he’s playing!”
“No, I mean, really. He’s sick,” Carole said. “Look at him. His color’s all wrong and he’s got this dizzy look—”
Bzzzzzzzp! The second chukka was over. The score was tied, 4–4.
“Time!” Max called. He, too, had seen that something was wrong with Adam. He ran over to the boy. “Adam,” he called. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Adam protested, dismounting and landing on the turf with a thud. “I’ve just got to—”
He didn’t finish his sentence. He just ran. His mother, who had come to watch the match, followed him as fast as she could. Mr. Baker pointed the way.
“Oh, poor Adam!” Lisa said.
“There’s a bug that’s been going around,” Marie said. “He’ll be okay in a couple of days.”
“But he has to play again in just a few minutes!” Stevie said.
“Forget it!” Carole told her. “His mother will be taking him home in just a few minutes. He won’t be back on a horse today.”
An unhappy look crossed Stevie’s face. “I’m going to have to find a substitute for him—or we’ll end up forfeiting.”
“We don’t have any substitutes,” Lisa said. “All we have is us.”
“Resume the game in one minute!” Mr. Baker announced.
“We’ve got to mount up!” Carole said. “Come on, team, let’s do it!”
Stevie stood up from her chair and walked slowly toward the stable. She told Max she wanted to check on Adam. It wasn’t quite the truth. She really wanted to do some thinking.
She saw Adam and Mrs. Levine climbing into her car. He still looked pale, but a little relieved.
“I’ll see to his horse,” Stevie assured the Levines.
“Thanks, and sorry,” Adam said weakly.
Stevie shrugged. “You couldn’t help it. You tried. Thanks for that.”
The car doors slammed.
Adam’s horse, Barq, was tied up to the fence by the stable entrance. She took his reins and patted his neck. She thought about what she was going to do.
She was going to take Adam’s place. She had her boots on. If she could walk, she could ride. The trouble was she didn’t know if she could play polocrosse. Her team was doing a wonderful job without her. What if she blew it for them?
Stevie sighed. Why did she always put herself into these situations? Why was she always competing with Phil? What difference did it make? Was Phil competing with her? As she thought back on the things he’d done and said over the last few weeks, she couldn’t honestly tell herself that Phil thought this was the same sort of contest between them that she’d been thinking it was.
At first, she’d wanted to beat him so badly, she’d hurt her friends’ feelings and humiliated her teammates with an overwhelming defeat. Then, she’d been so determined to be the perfect polocrosse player that she’d hurt herself pretty badly. And then she’d tried another tack: She’d been the perfect coach. Well, actually, she’d been a pretty good coach. Her team was doing well. She was glad of that, but that wasn’t quite the same thing as proving that she was better than Phil. If she got on the horse and took Adam’s place, she’d be competing with Phil. And every second that she played, she might be wondering, Which one of us is better?
Who cared?
“Why so serious, Stevie?” It was Phil, as if on cue.
“I’m thinking,” she said.
“About what?”
“About polocrosse,” she told him. “I’m trying to decide if I should try to replace Adam in the next chukka. What do you think?”
“Can you ride?” he asked excitedly. “Is your ankle really healed enough?”
“I’m pretty sure I’d do okay on that score,” Stevie said.
“I’m not sure my doctor would agree and I’m glad my parents aren’t here to say no like they probably would. As far as I know, though, I could do it.”
“So what’s the problem, then? Do it.”
It seemed so simple when he said it, but maybe he just didn’t understand.
“It’s not that. It’s—well, how do you feel about it?”
“Me? I think it’s great that you’re feeling well enough to do it.”
“How are you going to feel if we beat you?”
“Your team is much better than it was two weeks ago. I think there’s a good chance you will beat us.”
“Do you mind?”
“Losing isn’t my favorite activity, but we’re playing our best, so I can’t complain.”
“And what if I’m better than you are? Would you mind?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Is that what this is all about? Are you afraid I’m going to be better than you?”
“Partly,” Stevie answered honestly.
“Or that you’re better than I am and I’ll be angry?”
“That, too,” Stevie said. “I’m also afraid of how much I want to be better than you.”
Phil smiled.
“You’re a funny one, Stevie Lake,” he said. “Maybe I am, too. We always want to be better than each other, don’t we?” She nodded. “But when it comes right down to it, know what? As far as I’m concerned, deep down, where it’s the most important, you always win with me.”
“I do?”
“Yes, you do,” he said. Then, as if to prove that he meant it, he kissed her. And she kissed him back.
“Will you kiss me again if you lose?” she asked.
“Of course I will. And if you lose, you’re going to have to kiss me. Okay?”
“It’s a deal,” Stevie said, her mind now made up.
She unhitched Adam’s horse’s reins and walked with Phil back to the playing field.
“PLEASE, MAX, PLEASE!” Stevie said. “It’s only six minutes. How bad can it be? Look, I feel fine; I got into the saddle without any trouble. Barq and I are getting along fine, no trouble—isn’t that right, boy?” Barq, an Arabian horse with a sweet disposition, remained quiet.
“I don’t know, Stevie,” Max said.
“Just six minutes, Max—�
��
“Oh, all right.”
Max arranged for the substitution with Mr. Baker. The Cross County team had no objection, so Stevie was approved as the B team’s Center.
This was the final chukka of the match. Stevie had completely missed the third chukka, when the A teams were playing. She’d been with Phil. She had no idea what the score was and the field had no scoreboard. She was too embarrassed to ask anybody. Besides, she reminded herself, the score didn’t matter. What mattered was playing as well as she could, and having a good time.
“Begin play!” Mr. Baker announced. He threw the ball to the players.
Stevie reached up for it. She didn’t even come close. From behind her, she heard a racquet whiz through the air and a triumphant, “I’ve got it!” The voice was Phil’s.
As soon as she knew Cross County had possession, that meant she had two jobs. The first was to do everything she could to keep them from moving the ball down the field toward the goal. The second was to try to get it away from them.
Stevie now knew an awful lot about polocrosse. She had had to learn everything she could in order to teach her teammates. But learning was very different from doing. Just as the racquet had felt unfamiliar and cumbersome in her hand, the task ahead of her seemed strange as well.
“Let’s go!” Polly called. It was just what Stevie needed.
Stevie spun Barq around to pursue Phil. He had slowed down, looking for a teammate to pass the ball to so he could cross the penalty line. His teammates were both out of position. Stevie, on the other hand, was nearby.
She rode up behind him, swung her stick over to her left side—his right—and swiped upward, jostling the ball out of his racquet.
“Hey!” he yelled, but the ball had landed right by Stevie’s horse. She leaned over, scooped it up, and headed down the field.
Soon, she was the one being pursued. There, in front of her, was Polly, their Attack. Polly crossed the penalty line. Stevie passed the ball to her. Polly didn’t catch it, but she picked it up before the Cross County Defense could get to it. Then, with a big grin on her face, Polly threw the ball between the goalposts.
“Score!” Mr. Baker called out.
Stevie knew that, as a player, she wasn’t supposed to yell and scream with joy when her team scored, but inside she was cheering like mad. She was happy about the point, that was for sure, but it wasn’t the point that was making her the happiest. It was the teamwork. She and her teammates were working together. They were using the skills they had worked on so hard, and they were applying them to the strategies they’d been practicing. Each player had a different job and was doing it right.
“Go team!” Stevie whispered to herself.
Mr. Baker tossed the ball in for the next round of play. This time, things didn’t go so easily for either side. They fought hard over the ball, tossing it, passing it, bouncing it, and stealing it. It changed possession three times before getting near one of the penalty lines and then flew out-of-bounds when Phil hit Stevie’s racquet.
“Touché!” he said, grinning at her.
She had the funniest feeling he was thinking about collecting on their bet. So was she.
Mr. Baker announced that there were only forty-five seconds left in the chukka. Then he tossed the ball in a final time.
Forty-five seconds? Where had the time gone, Stevie wondered. The six minutes were absolutely flying by. Betsy picked up the ball this time and passed it to her. Stevie took it and began riding down the field toward their goal. There were hoofbeats coming up behind her. She looked for somebody to pass the ball to because she knew she’d be attacked in just a second. Neither Polly nor Betsy was anywhere in sight. Stevie had to do something. As long as she was carrying the ball like that, she was too vulnerable to having her stick hit.
Stevie decided to pass to herself. She bounced the ball on the ground ahead of her and then had Barq dash to catch up with it. It worked. She tried again. Once again, it worked. Then, out of nowhere, Phil appeared. He came right up next to her and tried to scoop the ball when she bounced it.
He missed it, but then so did she. They both scrambled to pick up the loose ball.
Bzzzzzzzp!
The game was over.
From both sides of the field, the Pony Clubbers, parents, and parent volunteers cheered loudly. Both teams had done a wonderful job and the match had been exciting from the first toss-in.
Stevie felt in a daze. She walked Barq over to the edge of the playing field and let Max help her down out of the saddle.
“You did a terrific job,” he told her. “I’m really proud of what you did, both as a coach and a substitute player. Stevie, one thing I know about you—when you put your mind to getting something done, you really do it. Of course, I don’t always approve of your methods, but then, I’m not complaining about results, am I?”
Max wasn’t one to throw compliments around. Stevie knew he meant it and she was glad to hear his words.
“You’re wonderful!” Carole shrieked, hugging her next. Stevie hugged back and hugged Lisa and Marie, as well as Polly and Besty when they all joined in.
“We’re all wonderful!” Stevie said. “Aren’t we?”
Everyone could agree on that.
“Uh, Stevie, could I talk to you for a moment, in private?” Phil asked. “It’s about our bet. Remember?” he whispered in her ear.
“Oh, yes. Excuse me, guys. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She secured Barq to the fence and followed Phil to the far side of the stable building. She even let him help support her as she walked.
When they were sure they were out of sight of the excited crowds, Stevie turned to face Phil. She put her arms up around his neck and stood on her tiptoes as high as her sore ankle would allow. He encircled her with his arms, and leaned down. Then, to alleviate further strain on her ankle, he picked her up. Their lips met.
Kissing Phil was just plain wonderful as far as Stevie was concerned and this time was no exception. He held her tightly and warmly for a few more seconds. Then they kissed again and he put her back down on the ground.
“Hey, that was a great bet,” Stevie said. “We’ll have to do that again more often!”
Phil grinned. His green eyes sparkled. She loved it when he looked at her that way.
“Just one thing, though,” Stevie said.
“What’s that?”
“Who won?”
Phil began laughing.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing!”
“YOU WERE GREAT!” Carole told Stevie. Lisa nodded agreement.
“So were you two,” Stevie said. “And I realized the whole thing was about teamwork, right guys?”
The three of them were sitting at their favorite table at TD’s, talking about The Game. They still all felt the thrill of their success.
“I can’t believe how good it was to be playing together.”
“It’s what you taught us,” Lisa said. “You were a really good coach.”
The waitress arrived then. “The usual?” she asked. She disappeared before they could even answer.
“What do you suppose that means?” Lisa asked.
Carole and Stevie shrugged. “I guess we’ll see soon enough,” Stevie said.
“What were you and Max talking about on the way home in the van? You were yakking away in the front seat about something, but I just couldn’t hear what it was,” Lisa said.
“Oh, we were discussing our future tournament schedule. See, there are a couple of other Pony Clubs in the area, and some 4-H’s, too, that might have polocrosse teams. I wanted to know what he thought about having a full-blown invitational tournament.”
“And what did he say?” Carole asked.
“He said we ought to have more players on our team before we do that so that if somebody gets sick, we won’t have to find some poor girl, still on crutches, to fill in for that person.”
“Makes sense to
me,” Carole said.
“Don’t worry,” Lisa said. “Polocrosse is a lot of fun and pretty soon a lot of people are going to know about it and will be dying to play. We won’t have any trouble expanding our team. You’ll see.”
The waitress approached the table, balancing a tray above her shoulder.
“Now, first, I thought you might want to try the banana frozen yogurt with honey.” She placed the dish in front of Lisa.
“Looks good,” Lisa said.
“And, I decided that caramel topping on chocolate ice cream was for you.” That was for Carole.
“Interesting,” Carole said.
“For you, we have something extremely exotic: a dish of vanilla.”
She lowered the plate in front of Stevie, who couldn’t hide her disappointment, until the waitress finished her description: “And strawberry, and bubble gum royale, with a Turkish-taffy topping, and peanut-crunch bits.”
“Oh, wow!” Stevie said, obviously delighted at the waitress’s idea of “the usual.”
“Enjoy,” the woman said. She left.
Carole leaned forward on the table and spoke conspir-atorially to her friends. “I think she’s hiding behind the pillar there,” she said.
“Whatever for?” Stevie asked.
“To see if you will actually eat it.”
“I will,” Stevie promised. “Every last bite of it. Unless you guys want a taste. You’re welcome, you know.” She offered them the dish.
“No thanks,” they said at once. All of them picked up their spoons then and began eating “the usual.”
“Speaking of thanks, wasn’t Marie just great today?” Lisa asked.
“Yes, she was,” Carole said. “See how much riding has done for her? I just knew it would.”
“And how is our little distraction plot coming along?” Stevie asked.
“Well, my father and her mother had a real date one night this week. I got the impression that Dad thinks Mrs. Dana is pretty cool.”
“Do you suppose that’s why he tried to put two halters on one horse today?” Lisa asked. “Now that’s what I call distracted!”
Horse Games Page 9