I’m going crazy, Stevie thought. I miss Belle so much I imagine that she’s here. She looked up and saw, to her relief, that the mare was real. She was being ridden by a policeman in a blue uniform. He had friendly blue eyes and a sandy mustache.
“You wouldn’t believe it, but your horse looks just like my horse,” Stevie said to the policeman. “It’s uncanny. My horse has the same color coat, the same eyes. The only difference is that Belle has short socks on the right and long socks on the left. Our horses are opposites.”
“Where’s your horse?” asked the policeman.
“Back home in—” Stevie suddenly stopped. She didn’t want this policeman to know that she came from Virginia. Then he would want to know how she had gotten here. And if she told him she came with a school group, he would want to know where the rest of the group was.
Stevie took a deep breath. “Belle is home on my grandfather’s ranch.”
“And where’s that?” asked the policeman.
“Idaho,” said Stevie. Chances were that the policeman didn’t know much about Idaho.
“Why aren’t you in school?” the policeman asked.
“I’m on vacation,” Stevie said. She could tell that the policeman didn’t really believe her, but she wasn’t actually breaking the law. Still, she thought the sooner she got out of there, the better.
“I’m meeting my grandfather,” she said. “I like to ride on the carousel over and over and over again, and he gets bored. So he dropped me off, and he’s going to pick me up.”
The policeman nodded. His blue eyes shined. “When I was a kid I liked to go on that carousel, too.” He smiled as he remembered. “I grew up here in the city. The carousel horses were the only horses I ever rode.” He looked at the carousel, which had started up again. “It was just the same then as it is now. Nothing has changed.”
“My favorite is the black one,” Stevie said. “I call him Ralph.”
“Good name,” said the policeman. “So, where’s your grandfather?”
“He’s kind of a slow walker,” she said. “He was thrown from a bucking bronco when he was young. He’s a fantastic rider, but not like he was before the accident.”
“I’d like to meet him,” said the policeman. “He sounds like an interesting man.”
Stevie looked around desperately. It was getting later and later. She had to get back to the museum.
“There he is,” Stevie said. “Right over there.” She pointed at the stream of people moving down the road. “I’m late. Gotta go! Great talking to you!” She dashed off.
“I GUESS WE should watch the news,” Lisa said.
“Why?” said Carole. “So we can see how foolish we look?”
Carole and Lisa had just come back from Pine Hollow. They were rummaging in Carole’s refrigerator for a snack.
Colonel Hanson’s head popped around the corner. “Did I hear you say you were going to be on TV?”
“It’s no big deal,” said Carole.
“It’s a really small deal,” said Lisa.
“You girls are just being modest,” Carole’s father said. “If you’re on television, I want to see it.”
“No you don’t,” said Lisa.
Colonel Hanson shook his head. “It’s good to be modest, but there’s no point in overdoing it.”
Lisa and Carole exchanged miserable looks. “We’re not being modest,” Lisa said. “We were horrible.”
“As if you girls could ever be horrible,” Colonel Hanson said happily. “What time are you on?”
“We’re on the local news,” Carole said glumly, “in five minutes.”
“I know it’s almost dinnertime, but this calls for popcorn,” said Colonel Hanson. It was a Hanson family tradition that great movies and great TV called for great popcorn. “I’m going to make it with extra butter. You girls take care of the lemonade.”
Lisa got the lemonade out of the refrigerator while Carole put glasses on a tray. As Lisa poured the lemonade, she said, “Don’t you think we should warn him?”
“What are we going to tell him?” Carole asked miserably.
Silently they carried the tray into the TV room and sat on the couch.
“WCTV is my favorite news station,” Colonel Hanson said. “They really tell it like it is.”
Lisa and Carole sank onto the couch.
“Hey, have some popcorn while it’s hot,” Colonel Hanson said as he settled into his favorite chair.
“I’m saving it for later,” Lisa said. Suddenly she didn’t feel like eating.
Colonel Hanson picked up the remote and turned on the television. Cheerful marching music played while WCTV’s logo appeared on the screen. An announcer described the top two stories of the day, and then he said, “Today, Melody Manners is bringing us the first in a series called ‘Genius Kids.’ Melody?” He turned to her with a smile.
Melody said, “Today we’re going to be meeting a very special kid, a rider who understands that it isn’t all horse shows and prize ribbons. Taking care of tack is important, too.”
“That’s you, Carole,” Colonel Hanson said. He settled back happily into his chair.
Carole sank even lower on the couch.
Veronica appeared on the screen as Melody said, “Veronica diAngelo is a serious rider. She knows that taking care of her horse and her equipment comes first.”
“Veronica?” said Colonel Hanson. “Whoever decided she was a Genius Kid?”
“Veronica’s father is friendly with the man who owns the television station,” said Carole.
Colonel Hanson put his hands behind his head. “That’s too bad.”
“You’re telling me,” said Lisa. “Carole ought to be the Genius Kid.”
The three of them watched while Carole stripped the saddle, and Veronica explained to Melody what she was doing.
“Nice work,” Colonel Hanson said. “I know an expert job when I see one.”
They watched while Carole washed the inside of the saddle and dried it.
Colonel Hanson beamed proudly.
They watched while Carole washed and dried the seat and the flaps of the saddle, and Veronica kept on talking.
“That’s not so bad,” Colonel Hanson said.
“Just wait,” Lisa said darkly.
On the TV set Melody suggested that Veronica polish the seat of the saddle herself. Onscreen, Veronica looked panicked for a second, then reached for a tin of black leather polish.
“Not that one!” yelled Colonel Hanson. Even on TV it was obvious that Veronica was picking up the wrong tin.
With a satisfied smile, Veronica opened the tin, plunged in her sponge, and made a black line across the saddle.
“She ruined a beautiful new saddle!” cried Colonel Hanson.
“There’s more,” said Lisa.
On the TV, Lisa said it was her fault. And then Carole said it was her fault. And then they started scrubbing at the black streak.
“I’ve got to hand it to you girls,” Colonel Hanson said.
“We’re the biggest idiots on earth, right?” said Lisa.
“Wrong,” said Colonel Hanson. “You were thinking about Pine Hollow. You didn’t want the stable to look bad.”
For a second Lisa was filled with pride. But then she thought about what the kids at school would say. “We’ll never hear the end of this. We acted so dumb. Kids will be teasing us for years.”
Carole nodded and crossed her arms. Lisa knew that Carole couldn’t stand the idea of people thinking she had damaged a saddle so senselessly.
“Nonsense,” Colonel Hanson said. “You two are heroes.”
“Heroes?” said Carole.
“You thought of others, not of yourselves,” said Colonel Hanson. “If you were Marines, you’d get medals.”
“The worst part is that WCTV is coming back tomorrow to tape Veronica—make that us—cleaning a bridle. This is shaping up as the worst vacation ever,” Lisa said.
“You know what we need?” Carole asked.
Lisa shook
her head.
“A good laugh,” said Carole
“All we need is something to laugh at,” Lisa said.
“Let’s call Stevie. She can tell us about her glamorous visit to New York,” Carole said.
“Yes!” said Lisa. “If anyone can cheer us up, it’s Stevie.”
Carole found the name and phone number of the hotel where Stevie’s class was staying in New York. “This is going to be fun,” she said. She dialed the hotel and asked for Stevie’s room.
Lisa ran into the next room for the extension.
After two rings the phone in New York was picked up. “Hello?” said Stevie.
“Stevie!” said Lisa and Carole at the same time.
“We need you!” said Carole.
“Tell us something funny,” said Lisa.
A woman’s voice said, “I’m sorry. Stevie can’t come to the phone.”
“But she already came to the phone,” Lisa said.
The phone went dead.
Lisa and Carole stared at each other. What was going on?
“PLEASE STOP CRYING,” Stevie said. “It makes me feel terrible.”
She and Ms. Dodge were in Stevie’s hotel room. The rest of the class had gone to dinner and then to see a play. Stevie had to stay at the hotel as punishment.
That afternoon Stevie had dashed back to the museum, rushed into the gift shop, and grabbed a postcard. She paid quickly and stuffed it in a bag, thinking that everything would be fine.
But Mrs. Martin asked each of them to show their postcard and explain why they had chosen their particular object.
One girl had chosen a ruffled ballgown from the costume wing. Another had chosen a violin. Another had chosen an antique valentine card with cupids and lace. Everyone had good explanations for their choices.
And then it was Stevie’s turn. Stevie reached into the bag, hoping that she had grabbed something good. It was a portrait of a very tall woman with a slightly red nose.
“Good selection, Stevie,” said Mrs. Martin. “Why did you choose it?”
Usually, Stevie had no trouble thinking up explanations, but this time she was almost stumped. “I like that nose,” she said. “Most artists would pretend it wasn’t pink. They’d paint it white.”
“Good point,” said Mrs. Martin. “I can see you’ve given this a lot of thought. How would you describe this artist’s place in American art?”
That was a toughie, since Stevie had no idea who the artist was.
“It’s an important position,” Stevie said. “American art wouldn’t be what it is without him.”
“Stevie,” said Mrs. Martin, crossing her arms. “What’s the artist’s name?”
“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” Stevie said. She tried to peek at the back of the postcard to see if the name was printed there.
“No, it’s not,” said Mrs. Martin. “His name is John Singer Sargent. It’s obvious to me, Stevie, that you were fooling around in the store. You didn’t choose an object at all.”
“I was not fooling around in the store,” Stevie said.
“Then what were you doing?” asked Mrs. Martin.
Stevie had realized that if Mrs. Martin found out what she had really been doing, she would be in the biggest trouble of her life. She would blow her chance to make up her grades, and she would lose her riding privileges. So she had said that the store was lots of fun. That wasn’t a lie exactly. The store was lots of fun. But she hadn’t spent any time there.
Now she was being punished. She had to miss a fancy dinner and the theater. She couldn’t make or receive phone calls, which was bad because she couldn’t call Skye to tell him where she was staying.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Ms. Dodge had been looking forward to the play that night. It was from a book by her favorite author, Henry James. And now she was upset.
“I am the world’s biggest jerk,” said Stevie. She felt really guilty. Ms. Dodge was a little quiet but very nice. Sometimes she even laughed at Stevie’s jokes, and she was always willing to help students. She’d never ruin someone’s trip, Stevie thought bitterly.
“You aren’t a jerk,” Ms. Dodge said, wiping her eyes. “You have a good heart, Stevie, but you get carried away.”
“I ruined your trip,” Stevie said.
“No, you didn’t,” Ms. Dodge said. “This gives us a chance to spend time together. I’m sorry I got upset. I’m a little disappointed, but we’ll have fun.”
Stevie wished Ms. Dodge would just get mad. The nicer she acted, the worse Stevie felt.
“I can’t understand why you don’t hate me,” Stevie said.
“I like you,” Ms. Dodge said quietly.
“Ugh,” said Stevie, throwing herself into a chair. “I hate myself.”
“Stevie, you have to realize that what you did this afternoon was wrong,” said Ms. Dodge.
She knows! Stevie thought. She knows I was running all over the park.
“Mrs. Martin gave this trip a lot of thought,” Ms. Dodge said. “She wanted to give you all as much freedom as possible. She wanted each of you to pick out an object on your own and research it on your own. But you didn’t do that, Stevie. You wasted time in the store.
“I know museum stores are fun,” Ms. Dodge continued, “but you didn’t do your job. And your grades are in jeopardy.”
“I always seem to get in trouble when I don’t really mean to,” Stevie said, shaking her head. “I guess I should really shape up.”
Ms. Dodge went over to Stevie and sat on the arm of her chair. “You’re growing up, Stevie. You have to stop acting like a little kid.”
Stevie thought for a minute. “I’m going to change,” she said with determination. “From now on I am going to be thoughtful and cooperative. Ms. Dodge, you are going to be proud of me.”
Ms. Dodge nodded. “I know I will, Stevie. I have faith in you. I think this trip to New York is going to be a real growing experience for you.”
Stevie resolved that she would never, ever act like a jerk again. And the next day, if she was really good, she’d get her phone privileges back. Then she’d be able to call Skye Ransom. And then she’d take Ms. Dodge backstage to see the real, true glamour of New York City.
WHEN SHE WOKE ON Thursday morning, Stevie knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t remember what it was. She sat in bed, stretching her arms.
Then she remembered that she’d promised to behave all day. That thought was so depressing that she lay down and pulled the covers over her head. “Woe is me,” she groaned.
“Are you sick?” asked Helen, Stevie’s roommate.
If this had been an average day, Stevie would have pretended that she’d caught some vile disease. But she realized that wouldn’t work. Besides, she’d be going back on her promise. She pulled the covers from her face and said, “No, I’m not sick. I’m fine. But thank you for asking.”
“Are you sure you’re okay, Stevie?” Helen said. “You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I’m fine,” Stevie said, walking toward the bathroom. “Yes, today is a very fine day, and I’m lucky to be alive.”
Inside the bathroom, Stevie scrubbed her teeth. Then she saw Helen’s travel bag. It had not just toothpaste but dental floss. A really disciplined person would floss her teeth right now.
“Is it okay if I use your dental floss?” Stevie called.
“Are aliens inhabiting your body?” Helen replied. “This can’t be the real Stevie.”
Stevie flossed her teeth. When she was done, she thought of how pleased her dentist would be.
Stevie brushed her hair fifty strokes. She had read somewhere that this would produce perfect hair. All it did was turn her ears pink, but it made her feel virtuous.
When Stevie looked in her suitcase, she knew she would have trouble finding something good to wear. She had stuffed it with black clothes because she’d read that the hip people in New York only wear black. She pulled out a black turtleneck. “Disgusting,” she said. She pulled out a
pair of black jeans. “What poor taste.” She found black socks and a black sweater. “Revolting.”
At the bottom of the suitcase was a flowered dress. Stevie’s mother must have sneaked it in there at the last moment. Stevie was her mother’s only daughter, and she knew that Mrs. Lake had dreams that someday Stevie would wear a dress.
“My mom is so thoughtful,” said Stevie, pulling the dress out of the suitcase. She looked at the flowers on the dress. “How did she know that petunias are my favorites?”
“I think you’ve gone mad, Stevie,” said her roommate.
“That shows what you know,” Stevie huffed.
At breakfast, Stevie sat next to Ms. Dodge, who told her how nice she looked. Ms. Dodge ordered an English muffin with “a smidgen of strawberry jam.” Stevie had been planning on loading up on sausages, eggs, and waffles. But she figured she’d have an easier time being good if she didn’t overeat, so she ordered an English muffin herself.
After breakfast they went to the Museum of American Folk Art to see samplers and other embroidery. Ms. Dodge explained that well-born ladies used to spend whole days sewing.
“Think of that,” Stevie said, peering at an embroidery of a willow tree. “You could go blind doing that.” When she noticed that Ms. Dodge was listening, she added, “Not that it wouldn’t be worth it.”
The class had lunch at a restaurant near Lincoln Center. Stevie sat next to Ms. Dodge. She was starving, but she ordered what Ms. Dodge ordered—a watercress and cream cheese sandwich with the crusts cut off.
“Hey,” Stevie said. “And I always thought watercress was stringy and dull.”
“Watercress is the queen of leafy greens,” said Ms. Dodge, patting her lips with her napkin.
After lunch they headed uptown toward the New-York Historical Society. Stevie walked with Ms. Dodge, who was fascinated by the dresses in the store windows.
“Isn’t that lovely?” said Ms. Dodge, pointing to a cream silk dress. “It’s so elegant.”
All Stevie could think was Spots. If she wore that dress it would be covered with spots in no time. She sneaked a look at Ms. Dodge, who didn’t have a single spot on her clothes.
Stevie imagined herself without spots. She saw herself with perfectly groomed hair. Strangely, she looked a little like Veronica diAngelo.
The Painted Horse Page 3