Stagecoach

by Bonnie Bryant

Lisa sat up. “No, I was just thinking how weird I must have looked lying down in the middle of the stage.”

  “Are you kidding? Everyone’ll be doing that in a couple of weeks. Close to performance time Mrs. Spitz works us so hard, you can’t wait for break so that you can collapse!” the girl said. “By the way, I’m Hollie. And you can look on with me after break. I don’t mind sharing.”

  “I’m Lisa,” Lisa said, feeling herself beginning to cheer up at Hollie’s friendly greeting.

  “Oh, I know,” Hollie said.

  “You do?” Lisa asked.

  “Naturally,” Hollie said. “I always prick up my ears when I hear Mrs. Spitz has found new talent.”

  “I’m not sure it’s talent—maybe more like luck,” Lisa said.

  Hollie shook her head. “Nope. It’s definitely talent. I heard you sing the duet with Mr. Ryan at tryouts. It was great.”

  Lisa smiled modestly. Then it struck her why Hollie looked familiar. “I know where I’ve seen you before,” she said. “We read a couple of scenes together at the first audition, didn’t we?”

  Hollie nodded.

  “I was really nervous,” Lisa went on, “but you were so sure of yourself that I decided I’d fake it and just pretend I was as confident as you. You’re the one who’s talented.”

  Hollie laughed. “Hey, don’t forget, that’s what acting is—‘faking it.’ But how about if we’re both talented?”

  Lisa agreed. “So you ended up getting the head orphan part,” she commented.

  “Yeah, it’s a good character part.” At Lisa’s blank look Hollie explained. “You know, not the lead, but a part that you can do a lot with—make people remember you for other reasons than your perfect soprano. Like maybe you have a funny walk or a strange accent or just a lot of pizzazz. I get character parts a lot.”

  Lisa nodded, her eyes bright with enthusiasm at what Hollie was saying. She sure seemed to know a lot about the theater.

  “So, you see,” Hollie was finishing, “not all the orphans are as bad as Miss Sniff-sniff.”

  Lisa clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. “Is she usually that bad?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Anna Henchman is a completely spoiled brat. She thought she deserved the part of Annie because of her name! Can you believe that? She does have a good voice, and she’s a good actress, but she makes life miserable for the rest of us. I’m sure she’s jealous that you got the part. And she’s probably jealous that you go riding, too. Those are riding clothes, aren’t they?” Lisa nodded. “Well, I’m sure Anna wishes she knew how.”

  “Then she’d better get used to it,” Lisa said, “because I go riding most days.”

  Hollie looked interested. “Really? That’s neat. I used to ride sometimes, and I liked it,” she said.

  “It’s the most fun thing in the world,” Lisa said.

  “More fun than Annie?” Hollie asked.

  Lisa felt a pang of guilt. She didn’t want to sound as though getting the lead in the play meant less to her than riding, especially when Hollie obviously cared so much about acting. “Well, just as fun,” she said. Briefly she told Hollie about riding at Pine Hollow. “Why don’t you come with me sometime?” she suggested.

  “I’d love to,” Hollie responded. “After Annie, that is. Of course there won’t be any time before the show finishes its run.”

  “Um, just when will that be?” Lisa asked, trying to make her voice sound normal. It had suddenly occurred to her that there was a chance that the Pony Club rally and the play could fall on the same weekend.

  Hollie seemed a bit surprised that Lisa didn’t know already, but she happily filled her in on the performance dates. Dress rehearsal would be in two weeks, on a Saturday night, followed by four performances the next weekend—Friday and Saturday evenings, and Saturday and Sunday matinees.

  Lisa sighed in relief. Dress rehearsal on the night of the rally would be tough, but at least it wasn’t opening night. Her relief didn’t last long, though. Before continuing the read-through, Mrs. Spitz handed out photocopies of the finalized rehearsal schedules. Lisa grimaced when she saw hers. As Annie, she had to be present at almost every rehearsal. There were even two rehearsals just for her alone. But that wasn’t the worst part. The day of the rally she was booked from nine to eleven in the morning and seven to nine at night. What was she going to do? Ask someone else to wrap Prancer’s legs, load her into the van, and get her ready for inspection in the morning, then take her home and take care of her at night? Max would never let her participate in such a halfhearted way. And she wouldn’t want to. But how could she miss the rally?

  “Is everything all right, Lisa?” Mrs. Spitz asked.

  Lisa forced herself to nod. “Oh, yes, it’s fine,” she said.

  Mrs. Spitz smiled sympathetically. “I know it’s hard to keep up your grades when you devote yourself to a production, but I’m not worried about you, Lisa. You’re a smart girl.”

  Lisa bit her lip. If only grades were the only thing she had to think about!

  AFTER THE READ-THROUGH was over, Mrs. Spitz critiqued everyone’s “performance.” “Yes, it’s the first rehearsal,” she explained, “but when I run a show, every minute counts.”

  Lisa recalled hearing those words earlier that day—from Max, telling her she could get Prancer ready for the rally in time. Her head began to swim as she thought about all she had to do in the next three weeks. She hardly heard Mrs. Spitz’s announcement to go downstairs to the costume room.

  “I love this part so much!” Hollie cried, bringing Lisa back to earth.

  “What part?” Lisa asked, silently reprimanding herself for not paying attention.

  “You know—trying on our costumes. As soon as I see mine, I start picturing myself onstage on opening night. It makes me shiver!” Hollie hugged herself with anticipation.

  Lisa followed her down the stairs and into a tiny room beneath the stage. It was crammed full of every kind of costume for every kind of show. There were racks of dresses in gingham and velvet, suit pants and jackets, farmer’s overalls, lace veils, silk kimonos, and even a feather boa or two. There were rows of boots and high heels, there were piles of felt and straw hats, there were baskets of hair ribbons and sashes. In the midst of it all sat a gray-haired woman with three pins in her mouth.

  “Come in, come in,” she said. “I’ve just finished pinning up Mr. Ryan’s trousers, so you can be next, Hollie.”

  Hollie ran and threw her arms around the woman and then introduced her to Lisa. She was Mrs. Roberts, the costume designer for more WCCT shows than anyone could remember.

  While Hollie got fitted for her orphan costume, Lisa tried on the things Mrs. Roberts had given her. A little shyly, she examined herself in the full-length mirror. Her jaw dropped at the sight of herself in the red Annie dress, white tights, black patent-leather shoes, and curly red wig. With one glance all worries fled her mind.

  “I’m Annie!” Lisa cried.

  “AT C PICK up a working trot and circle left twenty meters,” Stevie read out crisply. She and Carole had finished walking through the dressage tests that Mrs. Reg had given them and had decided to saddle up and try them on horseback before leaving for the day. Max had set up a standard “small” dressage ring—twenty by forty meters—in a flat, grassy area for them to practice in. That way they could get used to the actual size of the ring they would be riding in at the rally. Around the outside Max had placed the traditional dressage-ring letters in their proper order: A,K,E,H,C,M,B,F. The letters provided reference points for transitions from gait to gait. Stevie and Carole were taking turns reading the tests to each other.

  “E, sitting trot, prepare to canter,” Stevie continued. She looked up from the copy of the test to watch Carole and Starlight, Carole was sitting nicely in the saddle, despite the morning’s workout. Starlight still looked fresh, too, but he was more relaxed, now that the first lesson had taken the edge off him. “A, canter,” Stevie called. She watched Caro
le give the aid for the faster gait. It took a few beats past A before Starlight cantered.

  “I’ve got to prepare him earlier.” Carole panted, breaking to a trot and then a walk to talk with Stevie.

  “Yup,” Stevie agreed. “Maybe a couple of strides before A, you can give the aid. He looks good, though.”

  “Thanks, but we’re nowhere near as good as you two. Dressage is just never going to be Starlight’s favorite event. He’s always too busy thinking about the second phase: cross-country,” Carole remarked. She leaned down and patted the glossy neck. “Won’t you be surprised when instead of cross-country, we do another dressage test?” she joked.

  “At least Topside won’t mind—he’d be content doing twenty-meter circles all day,” Stevie said.

  “The team is really lucky to have you two,” Carole said seriously. “As Max reminded us, the lowest score wins in dressage, and I’m sure you two are his biggest hope for low marks at the rally.”

  Stevie nodded thoughtfully. Then she looked at Carole with a sparkle in her eye. “Finishing touches, huh? All right, Hanson. I’ll take that as a challenge. I’m going to ride the test again. This time pretend you’re Max, and be as critical as possible—I mean, notice every tiny fault, okay?”

  Carole was eager to agree. She dismounted and walked Starlight to the end of the ring to play judge. Stevie went through the routine. Topside walked, trotted, and cantered at exactly the right times. When she came down the center line for her final salute, Stevie was grinning. “Not too bad, huh?” she asked.

  Carole consulted the piece of paper she was using to make notes on. “No, not too bad, although there were ten or eleven things you could work on.”

  “Ten or eleven things?” Stevie demanded.

  Carole nodded calmly. “That’s right. Like your stirrups look too short for dressage. And you didn’t loosen the reins enough on the diagonal ‘free walk on a loose rein.’ And Topside wasn’t really bending into the corners when you went counterclockwise. And you leaned down to check your canter lead—very amateurish. And he got a hair too strung out on that second canter. And I think you might have cut the circle a tiny bit short when you—”

  “Okay! Okay!” Stevie cried. “I get the point. We’re not perfect yet.”

  Carole smiled. “Not yet, but you will be soon. Now, do you want to hear the rest?”

  Stevie listened while Carole finished reading her list of minor faults the pair had made. Then she asked Carole to watch one more time. “This time you won’t be able to say a thing,” she predicted confidently, trotting to the opposite end of the ring.

  Unfortunately, even Topside could get his fill of dressage. He shuffled through the test like an old school horse who’d had too many lessons that day, despite Stevie’s efforts to perk him up. Then Stevie started to make mistakes—very real mistakes—in addition to the minor errors Carole had noted. About halfway through, after Stevie had been rising to the wrong diagonal for about ten beats, Carole called out for her to stop.

  “I don’t remember there being a halt here,” Stevie said, when she had coaxed the now fussy Topside to stand still.

  “You’re right—there is no halt,” Carole replied. “But it’s about time we both called a halt to practicing for today. I hate to say it, but my list of problems for this test is already longer than for the last one, and you’re only halfway through.”

  “I know,” Stevie acknowledged. “I could feel Topside getting fed up with doing the same stuff again. I guess I got a little overenthusiastic, huh?” she asked. She had loosened the reins and was letting Topside walk freely. The bay gelding blew through his nostrils as if heaving a sigh.

  “We both did,” Carole said. “Look—it’s almost dusk. We’ve been here all day. And I know Max wouldn’t want us going crazy this early on in the game, so let’s head in.”

  Stevie agreed. She hopped off Topside and gave him a good, long pat. “I guess it’s just that when you have horses as great as Topside and Starlight, it makes you want to ride forever,” she said, grinning.

  “Right,” Carole said, “and so does having a trainer who works you as hard as Max.”

  They were silent as they led the horses toward the barn. Finally Stevie put both of their thoughts into words. “I wish Lisa could have been here to practice, too. Prancer’s greener than Starlight, and flightier, too. Squeezing in practice time might not cut it if she doesn’t settle down and—”

  Before she could finish, she was interrupted by Lisa running toward them. Her face was easy to make out, even in the near dusk, because it was covered in base makeup, powder, eye shadow, and lipstick. “Hey, you guys!” she called.

  Carole and Stevie looked at one another. There couldn’t have been a worse time for Lisa to arrive. Both of them were totally spent.

  “Phew! I was so afraid I’d miss you, but we ended up getting out ten minutes early, and I came right over after we tried on our costumes and makeup. I didn’t even take off any of my paint!” Lisa smiled happily.

  “Umm …,” Carole began cautiously. “Listen, Lisa, Stevie and I are going in now. We’ve each gone through our tests a few times, we’re exhausted, and Starlight and Topside are bored. It wouldn’t be fair to them or us to keep practicing.”

  Lisa looked crestfallen. “I’m tired, too, but I’m willing to keep on working. Besides, it’ll only take fifteen minutes for me to get Prancer ready, and twenty minutes to ride.”

  Stevie decided to be practical. “Where are you going to ride, anyway? It’s almost too dark out here, and the indoor ring is taken up by an adult lesson.”

  “And, anyway, they’ll be feeding Prancer in a half hour. Even if you could get tacked up in five minutes, she wouldn’t be any fun to ride now, because she’d be so cranky for her dinner,” Carole pointed out.

  “I’m feeling kind of cranky myself,” Stevie chimed in, trying to make light of the situation.

  Lisa didn’t smile. “I guess that extra ten minutes is just going to go to waste then,” she said sulkily. She could hardly believe Carole and Stevie weren’t going to make an effort to practice with her after she’d made a huge effort to get all the way back to Pine Hollow after a long rehearsal.

  “Ten minutes, huh?” Stevie asked. Lisa nodded. “Well,” Stevie continued, “if you’ve got ten extra minutes, how about we spend them together at TD’s? I know I could use an ice-cream sundae or two.”

  “Sounds good,” Carole said. “We haven’t had any quality Saddle Club time in a while.”

  Lisa thought for a minute and then shook her head. With a schedule like hers, spending time at the local ice-cream shop seemed like wasting time—something she couldn’t afford to do. She’d already wasted enough time coming over to Pine Hollow in the first place. The only thing to do now was to get her script and leave. “I don’t think I can go. I’m going to have to look at my time schedule again, and I need my computer for that.” She turned on her heel as they reached the barn doors. “See you at class Tuesday,” she added briskly. With that she hurried into the tack room to call for a ride, leaving Carole and Lisa to walk, groom, and feed the horses.

  A few minutes later they saw her walking to the end of the driveway to meet her mother. Her script was open, and she was trying to read it in the diminishing light.

  “Hey, I forgot to ask—how was the rehearsal?” Carole called. Lisa was already out of earshot and did not respond.

  “I forgot to ask, too,” Stevie said quietly.

  A gloom hung over them as they untacked and brushed Topside and Starlight on opposite cross-ties. Neither of them talked much.

  On their way out they spotted Prancer in her stall. She was munching hay. As usual, though, she wasn’t simply plowing through her two leaves of timothy and alfalfa. Instead she took a few bites and then looked up over her stall door to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. She pricked up her ears at any noise, and occasionally she would try to reach her nose into the stalls on either side of hers to get her neighbors’ attention be
fore going back to her hay. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. And it wasn’t that she was really nervous. But she was young and a Thoroughbred and had come to Pine Hollow straight from the track—and it showed.

  Carole and Stevie watched her for a few minutes, taking in her high-strung behavior. Neither of them said anything, but they were both thinking the same thing: Of all of the Horse Wise mounts, Prancer needed the most practice time.

  LISA DRUMMED HER fingers on the computer keyboard in frustration. Here it was, almost time for dinner, and instead of memorizing the lines to her first scene, she was still trying to perfect her schedule. Try as she did, she couldn’t squeeze everything in. And she was already planning to do homework on the morning and afternoon buses.

  “Twenty-four hours is too short for a whole day!” she cried. By Lisa’s calculations she needed about twenty-nine. It had been bad enough giving up free time at Pine Hollow for rehearsals, and that was before Max had even announced the news about dressage rally. Even if she never helped out or cleaned her tack once, she wouldn’t be able to find enough time for riding. And by the looks on their faces when she had left, Stevie and Carole weren’t too excited about her taking off without pitching in.

  Reluctantly she began typing her rehearsal times onto the screen again. Every time she saw an afternoon time slot fill up, she cringed. She knew that both of the things Max had said were true: Prancer was a lot better than before, but she still had a long way to go to be ready for a Pony Club rally.

  The phone rang three times before Lisa unwillingly picked it up. How would she explain that she couldn’t talk to Stevie or Carole right now when they had been nice enough to call?

  “Hello?” she said uncertainly.

  To her surprise neither Stevie nor Carole answered. Instead a cheery, low-toned voice asked, “ ‘Hello?’ Is that all ya got to say to a feller orphan?”

  “Hollie?” Lisa asked.

  “That’s right—guess I couldn’t fool you,” Hollie kidded. “Anyway, I just called up to talk shop—see what you thought of the cast, you know.”