“Stevie?” It was a familiar voice but one she didn’t often hear on the phone. She tried to place it, but then the voice placed itself. “It’s Veronica.”
“DiAngelo?” Stevie asked.
“Of course,” Veronica said. “Do you know another Veronica?”
It occurred to Stevie to say it was a good thing she didn’t, but that wouldn’t exactly be in the spirit of Christmas. Instead, she said, “No, but I wasn’t expecting to hear from you, that’s all.”
“Well, did you hear from Mr. Vance?”
“No, what about? Why would he call me?”
“Well, then how about Miss Fenton?”
The only times Stevie ever heard from Miss Fenton were when she was in trouble. She couldn’t for the life of her think of anything she’d done recently that Miss Fenton would need to talk to her about, except maybe for the fact that she’d used all the paper towels in the girls’ room to prop up the leg on the broken couch in the library, but she was sure nobody had seen her do it, and besides, using paper towels was better than using a book, right?
“Miss Fenton? No. I haven’t heard anything.”
“Well, the way I heard it, she’s steaming mad,” Veronica said.
Now Stevie was curious. Miss Fenton might be irritated by a pile of paper towels, but not steaming mad. This was something else altogether.
“It has to do with Cross Academy, I guess.” Cross Academy was a nearby private school and Fenton Hall’s archrival. They played each other in every sport, and every time Fenton played Cross, it was a big deal. All week Fenton’s hallways had been plastered with posters about how Fenton Hall should CROSS OUT CROSS in the basketball game to be played at Cross next week.
“Huh?” Stevie asked. This wasn’t making any sense at all, and she couldn’t imagine why Veronica was calling her.
“I can understand why you wouldn’t want to say anything,” said Veronica.
“About what?” Stevie demanded.
“The basketballs, of course.”
If Stevie had been confused before, she was dumbfounded now.
“Veronica, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” She rolled her eyes to let Lisa and Carole know that, one way or another, Veronica was being Veronica.
“Of course,” Veronica said in her most condescending tone.
Stevie was inches from simply slamming down the phone, but her curiosity was piqued. “Tell me about the basketballs,” she said.
“Well, not that you would know anything about this, Stevie, but the way I hear it, somebody—and nobody knows exactly who, but it must be one of those people who are always getting into trouble—somebody got into the athletic supply closet at Cross Academy and punctured every single one of their basketballs!”
“Who would do something like that?” Stevie blurted out.
“Exactly!” said Veronica.
Then it began to sink in. Veronica thought Stevie had done it. No way. Stevie was more than capable of pranks. She’d be the first to admit it, and maybe even say it proudly. She was even capable of slightly mean pranks—especially when it came to her brothers—but she was in no way capable of such a totally mean and destructive prank.
But if Veronica thought she did it, who else might? Miss Fenton? Stevie felt a terrible knot in her stomach.
“Anyway,” said Veronica, “I guess Miss Fenton has announced that she’s going to be in the auditorium between four and five tomorrow, and the person who did it is supposed to come forward and confess, which might, just might save them from being drawn and quartered by Miss Fenton and Mr. Lord, the headmaster at Cross.”
“So, what about our auditions?” Stevie asked.
“Well, they can’t be in the auditorium at four o’clock, can they?” Veronica answered.
“No, I guess not.”
“Just thought you’d want to know,” said Veronica.
“Uh, thanks,” said Stevie. And she hung up.
“What was that about?” Carole asked.
“It was Veronica gloating,” said Stevie, and she explained to Lisa and Carole about the basketballs. “She thinks I’m going to be in big trouble, but I didn’t have anything to do with that. I mean, I hope Fenton beats Cross and all, but I certainly don’t care enough to get into trouble over it.”
“You’d never do anything like that,” Lisa said.
“Well, you know that and I know that, but apparently Veronica doesn’t, and I can’t be absolutely certain that Miss Fenton doesn’t, either.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Well, first of all, I’m not going to utter the word basketball tomorrow. I don’t want anybody at that school connecting me with that mean and crude prank. And the next thing I’m definitely going to do is to stay far, far away from the auditorium tomorrow afternoon between four and five. The auditions have been changed to five o’clock.”
“Is that what Veronica said?” Lisa asked.
“Well, they can’t be before because there are some classes until four, and they can’t be anyplace but the auditorium, so they have to be at five o’clock. I’ll wait in the library. It’s the last place Miss Fenton would think to look for me. Shall I finish my song now?”
“Oh, yes, Stevie, please go ahead. You sound wonderful!” Carole said.
“You really do, Stevie. You’ve improved tremendously. I just know Mr. Vance will give you the solo,” added Lisa.
“Just think.” Stevie grinned before she started to sing. “This could be the start of my second-greatest career!”
“What’s your first-greatest career, Stevie?” asked Carole. “Riding horses or getting into trouble?”
“Riding horses, of course.” Stevie laughed. “Trouble just seems to happen on its own.”
THE NIGHT OF the play had finally arrived. Excitement crackled through the auditorium as everyone waited for the lights to go down. “Gosh,” said Phil Marsten to his friend A.J. “I wonder what part Stevie is playing in this.”
“It couldn’t be a singing role,” said A.J., settling down in his seat beside Phil. “I’ve heard Stevie sing before.”
“I know what you mean,” replied Phil. “But she said I’d be really surprised.”
The lights dimmed and the curtain rose. Phil gasped. There, standing all alone onstage, was his girlfriend, Stevie Lake. She was dressed in the most beautiful green dress he’d ever seen. She flashed a gorgeous smile at the audience. Then, with the slightest nod to her accompanist, she began to sing.
Phil’s jaw dropped. “That’s Stevie!” he cried. “And she’s singing like an angel!”
“Stevie!”
“Huh?” Stevie looked up from the breakfast table. Her mother stood in front of her, holding two boxes of cereal.
“Do you want cornflakes or granola this morning? I’ve already asked you twice. You’re just sitting there like you’re a million miles away.”
“She’s daydreaming about her play,” Stevie’s twin brother, Alex, teased. “She’s thinking how beautifully she’ll sing, all for Phil.”
“Daydreaming about singing something beautiful sure beats sitting here listening to you,” Stevie snarled back.
“Stevie and Alex,” Mrs. Lake said with a note of warning in her voice. “It’s Monday morning, a short time before Christmas. Let’s try to show a little holiday spirit toward each other.” She shook both cereal boxes again. “Stevie? Cornflakes or granola?”
“Granola, Mom,” Stevie decided. “Thanks,” she added as her mother poured cereal into her bowl.
“What time is your audition, Stevie?” Mr. Lake asked, looking at her over his newspaper.
“Five,” said Stevie. “Mr. Vance changed it from four.”
Mr. Lake frowned. “Hmmm, it’ll be dark by then. Would you like me to stop by Fenton Hall on my way home from the office and give you a ride home?”
“Sure, Dad, that would be great.” Stevie smiled as she poured milk over her cereal.
“Well, if you guys want a ride to school,
we’ve got to leave in thirty seconds.” Mrs. Lake took off the apron that covered her crisp gray business suit and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to be downtown in court in half an hour, and I’ve got just enough time to drop you off.”
Stevie finished her breakfast in four bites, then joined her three brothers in putting on their coats and piling into Mrs. Lake’s station wagon. Michael, Stevie’s youngest brother, managed to turn one of his pet white mice loose in the front seat, but by the time they rolled up in front of school, he had recaptured it.
“Bye, you guys,” Mrs. Lake said as her children scrambled out of the car. “Have a good day! Hey, Stevie,” she called as Stevie closed the door. “Break a leg at your audition!”
“Break a leg?” Stevie frowned. Why would her mother want her to break her leg?
“It’s theater lingo,” Mrs. Lake said with a laugh. “It means good luck. I just know you’ll be great!”
“Thanks, Mom.” Stevie smiled. “See you tonight.”
The school day crept by for Stevie. Everyone was talking about the basketball prank. Stevie shut her ears to all conversations on the topic and, true to her word, didn’t mention the word basketball all day.
All she could think about was the audition that afternoon. Instead of memorizing the Bill of Rights in history class, she tried to remember all the relaxation techniques Ms. Bennefield had showed her. In algebra class she concentrated on whole and quarter notes instead of negative numbers, and at lunch she ate a piece of chocolate cake instead of her usual ice cream.
Finally, as the hands of the clock reached three, the dismissal bell rang. The rest of her science class raced toward the door, but Stevie got up slowly and walked out into the hall. She climbed the stairs to the second floor, where the library was. I can get my homework done and kill two hours at the same time, she thought.
The library was just as deserted as the classrooms. Stevie tossed her books on a table by the window and sat down so that she could both watch the clock and look at what was going on outdoors. She checked the time. It was ten past three. Almost two hours to go. She sighed and opened her history book. She might as well read that night’s assignment.
By the time the clock read five past four, she’d read her history, done her science, and worked several pages ahead in her algebra. Again she sighed. Why had Mr. Vance moved the auditions back so late? Didn’t he realize there was nothing for anybody to do here when school wasn’t in session?
She turned and looked out the window. A boy on a bicycle rode across the soccer field, his dog following him. Stevie thought of pets, which made her think of Belle. Then she thought of Pine Hollow and Max. Then she jumped. She had completely forgotten about the Secret Santas, and she had drawn Veronica diAngelo’s name!
“Yikes!” she said out loud. “What can I do to—um, er, I mean for her?” Stevie knew Veronica was going to be furious when Mr. Vance gave her this solo, and getting a Secret Santa good deed from Stevie on top of that might make her even madder. Maybe I ought to just forget about being a Secret Santa, Stevie thought, frowning. No, that wouldn’t be right. She would have to do something really super-duper nice for Veronica. That would make Veronica feel a whole lot better about everything.
Stevie sat back in her chair and tapped her pencil on the table. But what could she do for Veronica? Veronica already managed to get Red O’Malley to do most of her chores for her horse, Danny, so that wouldn’t be any big surprise. And whenever the Pine Hollow riders had a clean-up-the-stables day, Veronica usually had some important appointment with her hairdresser or her Italian tutor. There was nothing she needed or wanted that Stevie could do for her.
“Hmmmm,” Stevie said. This was going to take some thought. She had just begun to wonder whether Veronica’s fancy dressage saddle might need some extra cleaning, when she looked at the clock. Where had the time gone? It was quarter to five!
Golly, she thought, I’d better get going. She gathered her books and hurried down to the bathroom. It was dark. She turned on the lights and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked okay. Maybe a little pale, but that was to be expected at her first audition. She closed her eyes and tried to remember everything Ms. Bennefield had taught her. Blow bubbles to keep your lips loose, breathe with your stomach, smile, shrug your shoulders up and down to stay relaxed. Stevie did all those exercises for five minutes; then it was time to go. She pulled her music out of her backpack, grabbed her coat, and ran down the stairs to the auditorium. She absolutely could not be late for this. Mr. Vance would have a fit!
When she bounded down the stairs and turned the corner, she found the auditorium door closed. That’s odd, she thought. Mostly kids come and go a lot when a play practice starts. She walked over to the door and listened. That was even more odd. Someone was playing the piano, and someone else was singing!
And there was something odder still. The auditorium was right across the hall from Miss Fenton’s office. Stevie could hear the rise and fall of an angry voice coming from there—the unmistakable tones of Miss Fenton’s fury. She had her suspects in custody right where she wanted them, in her own office.
A knot formed in Stevie’s stomach with the realization that she’d been had, but good, by Veronica diAngelo. Miss Fenton was angry, all right; she’d waited for the basketball hooligans to confess, all right; it had been at four o’clock, all right; but it hadn’t been in the auditorium. She’d been in her own office the whole time, just as Stevie had been in the library the whole time.
Trembling with dread, Stevie opened the auditorium door, knowing before she saw it exactly what would greet her. There, onstage, was the entire cast of the play, and right in the middle, singing in a lime-colored spotlight, was Veronica diAngelo!
The door slammed shut behind Stevie. The music stopped. Everyone looked at her.
“What’s going on?” Stevie asked, still not believing what she was seeing. She hurried down to Mr. Vance at the piano. “Aren’t we having auditions for the solo today?”
Mr. Vance’s eyebrows rose. “We did have them, Stevie. At four o’clock. We waited for you until four-fifteen, and then we had to go on with the rehearsal. I gave the solo to Veronica, who was here on time.”
“But I thought the auditions were at five,” Stevie began, blinking back tears of fury and disappointment.
“Sorry, Stevie.” Mr. Vance shook his head. “It was four. I announced it clearly at the end of rehearsal on Friday afternoon. As I recall, you were staring out the window with your sheet music on your lap.”
The room grew silent. Everyone in the auditorium was staring at Stevie, waiting to see what she was going to do. Veronica smiled weakly from the center of the stage and shrugged. Stevie glared at her. Had she called her the day before on purpose to confuse her? It was possible, but it was just as possible that Veronica had been mixed up, too. Stevie took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to accuse Veronica of cheating in front of Mr. Vance and the whole cast, she said nothing. There was no way she could prove it, and the whole argument would only wind up being her word against Veronica’s.
Mr. Vance finally broke the heavy silence. “Let’s take five, everybody!”
The cast scurried out of their positions. Veronica exited stage left, as far away from Stevie as she could get. Stevie stood there in stunned silence. All her work and practice with Ms. Bennefield had come to nothing. She’d never even gotten a chance to try out. Now Phil would never hear her sing onstage. Neither would her family, or her friends, or Ms. Bennefield, or anybody. Again hot tears began to sting her eyes.
“Come over here, Stevie,” Mr. Vance called softly from the piano. “I want to talk to you.”
She walked over to him. They both hopped up on the stage and let their legs dangle over the edge.
“Look, Stevie, I know how hard you’ve worked on your singing, and I’m really proud of you for that. But you also need to work hard on paying attention in class. If I let you try out for the solo now, it wouldn’t be fair to Veronica, who was he
re at the proper time.” Mr. Vance took his glasses off and smiled. “There’s a spot, though, in the chorus where I could use another singer. Would you like to do that?”
Stevie sighed and shrugged. As much as she wanted to please Mr. Vance, she felt as if Veronica had stolen something from her, and to be in the chorus would somehow be like letting Veronica know it was okay. Only in this case it wasn’t okay at all.
“Why don’t you go home and give it some thought?” Mr. Vance put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulders. “You’re one of my best troupers, and I want you to be in all our plays.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Stevie. She hopped down off the stage and started to put her coat on.
“And, Stevie, don’t forget that this spring we’ll be doing Once Upon a Mattress.” Mr. Vance smiled. “I can think of one role in that play that would be perfect for you.”
“Really?” asked Stevie. “Which one?”
“Winnifred, the princess,” said Mr. Vance with a wink. “It’s the lead.”
“Gosh, Mr. Vance, thanks for telling me,” she said. She zipped up her jacket. “I’ll let you know about the chorus part. Right now, though, I need to go wait for my dad.”
“Why don’t you go out through the backstage door?” said Mr. Vance. “That way you won’t have to walk all the way around the building.”
“Okay.” Stevie threaded her way through the heavy curtains as she heard Mr. Vance play a chord on the piano and call everybody back to their places. Backstage she could hear Veronica beginning her solo. Stevie felt anger beginning to boil up inside her all over again.
She saw a big cardboard box she’d never seen before. It was on a chair, and the words SOLO COSTUME were lettered on top. Stevie frowned. Nobody had ever mentioned that singing the solo also involved wearing a costume.
She walked over to the box and peered inside. It was hard to tell what the costume was, so she put her books down and reached into the box. First she pulled out a long, brown pajama-looking thing; then she pulled out four shoelike pieces that looked sort of like hooves.
“What on earth is this supposed to be?” she whispered as she peered deeper into the box. She held the pajamas and the hooves in one hand and reached for the final piece. She pulled it from the darkness of the box and held it up to the light.
Christmas Treasure Page 5