She had just stopped panting when Mrs. Martin appeared.
“I hope you did a better job today, Stevie,” she said.
“Much better,” Stevie said.
The rest of the group had gathered.
“Show us what you picked,” Mrs. Martin said.
Stevie pulled the postcard of the glass lamp out of the bag. “Is that a lamp or what?” she said. “I’m not too into antiques, but I could live with this lamp.”
“Tell us something about it,” Mrs. Martin said.
“It’s like a plant,” Stevie said. “It has branches, roots, flowers.… It’s like a living thing, almost.”
“Very good,” Mrs. Martin said. “Who made it?”
What kind of a question was that? “A lamp maker,” Stevie said.
A line of irritation appeared between Mrs. Martin’s eyes. “I cannot believe you selected this object without knowing who made it.”
“I’ll find out later,” Stevie said. “This lamp and I are connected.”
“Then you would want to know that it’s made by Louis Comfort Tiffany,” said Mrs. Martin.
“He’s an American genius,” said Ms. Dodge.
“There’s a whole exhibit of those lamps upstairs,” said Mrs. Martin. “How could you have picked a Tiffany lamp as your object without seeing the exhibit?”
Stevie felt her face turn red. Truly, she had blown it. Again.
“You’ve been fooling around all this time,” Mrs. Martin said. “You’ve been hanging out in the store.”
“Absolutely not,” Stevie said.
“Then where were you?” asked Mrs. Martin.
Stevie realized that she had to think faster than she had ever thought before. She thought of Skye. She thought of the tickets. She thought of the backstage visit. She thought of a nice hearty meal. She knew that Skye would make a good excuse for her disappearance.
“It’s like this,” she said. “I couldn’t talk on the phone last night, so I couldn’t call this friend of mine who’s a movie star.”
Mrs. Martin sighed and looked away.
“He’s not just a movie star, he’s also a Broadway star,” Stevie said. “He’s in Murder at Midnight. He’s going to give us all free tickets, invite us backstage afterward, and introduce us to stars. And then he’s going to take us out to dinner. And then he’ll take us home in a limousine.”
Mrs. Martin shook her head. “When we get back to Willow Creek, I am going to have a long, long talk with your parents.”
“You don’t have to make up stories like that,” said Ms. Dodge. “I know maybe you feel insecure sometimes, Stevie, but it’s better to tell the truth.”
“It is the truth,” Stevie said. “Wait until we get back to the hotel. Tickets will be waiting for us.”
Mrs. Martin and Ms. Dodge looked at each other and sighed.
BY THE TIME Lisa and Carole got to Carole’s house, they were exhausted.
“Scratching really wears you out,” said Lisa as she rubbed her elbow.
“What made that cloth so itchy?” Carole said.
“Itching powder,” said Lisa.
“What’s that?” Carole said.
“You buy it at joke shops,” Lisa said. “My cousin Albert is always buying stuff like itching powder. He also likes plastic ice cubes with flies inside.”
“He sounds like a million laughs,” Carole said.
“You don’t know the half of it.” Lisa groaned. “Anyway, when we first saw Veronica, she had a white bag in her pocket. Later the bag was in the wastebasket. It was from Jerry’s Joke Shop.”
“That’s why she told us to go help Max,” Carole said. “She wanted a chance to put itching powder on the chamois cloth.”
“Exactly,” Lisa said. “She knew we’d wind up making total fools of ourselves.”
“And we did,” said Carole. “How come Veronica always seems to win?”
“Because Stevie isn’t here,” Lisa said. “We need her diabolical brain.”
“I bet she’s having a fantastic time in New York,” said Carole.
“While Veronica tortures us in Virginia,” said Lisa.
Twenty minutes later the girls had showered and shampooed and put on fresh clothes. The itching was gone.
“Let’s have a snack,” Lisa said.
There were fresh chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar. Lisa put some on a plate while Carole poured glasses of milk.
“Maybe Melody will lose the videotape and we won’t be on TV,” said Lisa.
“Somehow I have the feeling that she won’t,” said Carole.
From the front of the house came the sound of a door opening. “I’m home,” came Colonel Hanson’s voice. He walked into the kitchen. “Are you on TV again?”
“Yes, and it’ll be worse,” Carole said. “We looked like even bigger dummies.”
“Wait until you see,” said Lisa.
Colonel Hanson turned on the news. The top story was the weather. “There’s good news,” the meteorologist said. “The storm that has been drenching Willow Creek is finally moving up the coast. By tomorrow the sun will be shining here, and New York City will have our rain.”
“Poor Stevie,” Carole said. “It’s no fun being a tourist in the rain.”
“Stevie will cope,” Colonel Hanson said with a grin. “She always finds a way.”
Carole crossed her arms, thinking that somehow she and Lisa never seemed to find a way.
In the “Genius Kid” segment, Veronica looked as beautifully groomed as a movie star. Her black hair was shining. Her nails and lips were red. Her skin was creamy.
Veronica explained about a bridoon and a Weymouth bit and why her bridle had four reins.
“She knows a thing or two,” said Colonel Hanson, clearly impressed.
“I was whispering the facts to her,” Carole said. “She doesn’t know a thing.”
They watched as Carole stripped the bridle and then washed it.
“You girls really do deserve medals,” said Colonel Hanson.
Then Veronica said that Lisa was going to dry the bridle. Lisa picked up the chamois cloth and her face suddenly got a very odd look. The cloth flew out of her hands. Carole grabbed it. Next thing, the girls seemed to be fighting over it while Veronica told them to share.
Colonel Hanson watched in silence. When it was over, he said, “Itching powder?”
“You know about itching powder?” Lisa asked.
Colonel Hanson nodded. “When I was a new recruit there was a guy in my platoon who used to like stuff like itching powder.”
“And ice cubes with flies in them?” asked Lisa.
“Exactly,” said Colonel Hanson. “That guy had the worst sense of humor of anyone I ever knew. He drove us all crazy.”
“Was his name Albert?” Lisa asked.
“No, Virgil,” said Colonel Hanson.
“Oh no, there are two of them out there,” Lisa moaned.
Colonel Hanson thought for a minute. “What did Max do?” he finally asked.
“Nothing,” said Lisa.
Colonel Hanson nodded. “Max is no dope. He knows what’s going on. I’m sure he’s got some kind of plan. Just hang in there.”
“But we always wind up looking like creeps,” Lisa wailed.
“I don’t think so,” Colonel Hanson said. “Trust me.”
“THIS IS NOT only unfair,” Stevie said, “it’s inhuman.”
Tickets for Skye’s show had arrived at the hotel, but Mrs. Martin wouldn’t let Stevie go.
“I told you Skye was going to send tickets, and he did,” Stevie said. “Nobody believed me, but I was right. So why can’t I go?”
“Because you still haven’t been taking this trip seriously,” said Mrs. Martin. “You haven’t been the least bit cooperative.”
Stevie opened her mouth, about to argue with Mrs. Martin, but then she realized that if Mrs. Martin knew what she had really been doing, she would be in trouble for life. “I guess you’re right,” she said miserably.
Mrs. Martin looked down at the tickets in her hand. “It’s true that Skye Ransom is your friend, Stevie. Without you we never would have gotten these tickets. If you like, I can return them to Mr. Ransom.”
“No way!” Stevie said. “His play sounds fantastic. There are thrills. There are chills. Plus, Skye is a great actor.”
“You’re a nice person, Stevie,” said Mrs. Martin. “You’re generous and sweet. But you have no discipline. You have no inner fiber. You’ll never get anyplace unless you change.”
“She will,” said Ms. Dodge, putting her arm around Stevie. “I know she’ll do better.”
“But Ms. Dodge will have to stay and watch me,” Stevie groaned. “It’s really not fair. She’s going to miss two plays in a row. I’m single-handedly wrecking her trip to New York.”
“I don’t mind staying,” Ms. Dodge said. “It will give us a chance to spend some time together.”
If only Ms. Dodge weren’t so nice, Stevie thought. She was making Stevie feel miserable.
“We’ll have a good time,” Ms. Dodge said to Stevie. “We’ll order dinner from room service and then we’ll watch TV.”
Stevie crumpled. This did not sound like a fantastic evening. “I’ve always wanted to go backstage at a Broadway show,” she said to Mrs. Martin. “It’s a lifelong dream. I promise …”
Mrs. Martin shook her head. “I’m sorry, Stevie.”
When the class had gone, Ms. Dodge got the room service menu and said, “What would you like, Stevie?”
“Bread and water,” Stevie said miserably.
“Don’t be like that,” said Ms. Dodge with a smile. “Take a look at the menu.”
On the menu there were good things like hamburgers and fries. And there was an array of tempting desserts. But Stevie knew that somehow or other she had to get herself under control. No way was she going to wander off in the park again. Maybe eating right would help.
“What are you having?” she asked Ms. Dodge.
“The sautéed filet of sole looks scrumptious,” said Ms. Dodge.
“Totally,” said Stevie.
Ms. Dodge waggled her fingers over the menu as if she were having trouble deciding. “How about some broccoli to go with that fish?”
“Fantastic,” Stevie said. Until this moment, she would rather have died than order broccoli.
Half an hour later, a man wheeled a table into their room. The plates were covered with metal domes to keep the food warm.
“Let’s dig in,” Ms. Dodge said happily.
When the waiter whipped the cover off her plate, Stevie nearly fainted. There was a slab of white fish, a huge pile of broccoli, and a sprig of parsley. Well, Stevie figured, I can eat the parsley.
But Ms. Dodge was so nice that Stevie didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She scooped up a forkful of broccoli. She closed her eyes. She opened her mouth. She inserted the broccoli. She chewed. The broccoli didn’t have a lot of taste, but it wasn’t that bad, either. She opened her eyes with relief.
“Most kids don’t like broccoli,” said Ms. Dodge.
“I’m building my inner fiber,” said Stevie with a chuckle.
“I’m glad you can laugh,” said Ms. Dodge. “To tell you the truth, I was afraid this evening was going to be grim.”
“This is the best broccoli I ever ate,” Stevie said. “And to tell you the truth, it’s the first broccoli I ever ate.”
Ms. Dodge giggled. It was a very nice sound. Somehow it made Stevie feel better.
Stevie ate half the broccoli—she figured that eating more would be overdoing it. And then she looked at the fish. The aunt who lived in a house full of antiques always ate fish. And her aunt was famous for her good taste. Stevie told herself that this fish was a whole new experience for her. This fish represented adventure.
Stevie took a bite. The fish wasn’t the greatest—it was kind of limp—but it wasn’t the worst, either. She told herself to pretend that she was at TD’s, eating one of her famous ice cream concoctions.
It didn’t work. The fish tasted like fish.
“You don’t have to eat it all, Stevie,” said Ms. Dodge with a smile.
Stevie smiled back gratefully. She ate the parsley to take away the taste of the fish.
When they were finished, they rolled the table out into the hall.
“Room service is cool,” Stevie said. “They’ve got everything figured out—how to keep the food warm, how to get rid of the dirty dishes.”
“They think ahead,” said Ms. Dodge.
Stevie looked around the room. There wasn’t much to do but watch TV. “So what are your favorite shows?” she asked.
“Let’s see what’s on the educational channel,” Ms. Dodge said.
Stevie had been hoping to catch an episode of Range Riders because it had realistic horse-riding scenes, but she figured that she should let Ms. Dodge choose the show. “Educational TV it is,” she said.
Ms. Dodge switched the channel to a show about woodchucks—how they mated, how they reared their young. The woodchucks were cute, but somehow they didn’t grab Stevie.
After a while, Stevie asked, “Could we watch something else?”
“Absolutely,” said Ms. Dodge. “One of the nice things about New York is that there’s more than one educational channel.”
Right, Stevie thought.
“Here’s something that might interest you,” Ms. Dodge said. “The show is on Eadweard Muybridge, the photographer.”
Stevie settled back in her chair, ready for pictures of sunsets or something like that. Instead she saw a photograph of a horse. It turned out that Muybridge took the first photographs of horses galloping.
“You’re kidding me,” Stevie said.
Ms. Dodge smiled.
Until Muybridge took his photographs, no one knew how horses galloped. This seemed kind of weird, but Stevie realized that horses gallop so fast that it’s hard to see their legs. Until Muybridge, people thought that there was a moment when a horse had its back legs flying back and its front legs flying forward, with not a single hoof touching the ground.
“That explains that goofy picture of a horse in the historical society,” Stevie said. “No one knew. This is really interesting.”
It turned out that the only time a horse’s feet leave the ground during a gallop is when all four feet are drawn together under the horse. This is called the moment of suspension.
“Wait until Lisa and Carole hear about Muybridge,” Stevie said. “They’ll be impressed.”
“Educational television isn’t always dull,” Ms. Dodge said. “In fact, if you give it a chance, it’s pretty interesting.”
“This has been some evening, Ms. Dodge,” Stevie said. “Broccoli. Fish. Educational television. I thought New York was going to be one glamorous treat after another, but everything has turned out the opposite.” She thought a minute. “It’s kind of fun, though. I’m seeing things I never saw before.”
“There’s a whole lot more you haven’t seen,” Ms. Dodge said. “There’s a whole world out there.”
Stevie thought about it. “When you think about adventure, you think about something you’ve never done before. And if it’s broccoli—okay.”
“You have a good spirit, Stevie,” said Ms. Dodge.
“I’m going to be good from now on,” Stevie said. Now that she was here, with Ms. Dodge, she realized how crazy she’d been to run around Central Park on her own. The policeman was right to be worried about her. Sometimes I have no common sense, Stevie thought. “It’s going to be a whole new me,” she said.
By ten-thirty, Stevie was eager for her class to come back from the theater so that she could show them how good she was.
The class didn’t come.
By eleven she was dying for them to come back.
The class didn’t come.
By eleven-thirty she was getting kind of grumpy.
By twelve she was getting steamed.
At twelve-twenty, the class returned. Mrs. Ma
rtin had spots of pink in her cheeks.
“How was the play?” asked Ms. Dodge.
“It was just a mystery,” Mrs. Martin said. “It wasn’t a serious play, but it wasn’t half bad.” She turned to Stevie. “Skye Ransom certainly can act.”
“What a hunk,” said one of Stevie’s classmates with a sigh.
“Hunk is not a word we use,” said Mrs. Martin, “unless we are talking about a piece of cheese.”
“Was the mystery good?” asked Stevie wistfully.
“No one guessed the solution before the end,” said Mrs. Martin. “It was really quite clever.”
“You should see Skye’s dressing room,” one of the girls said to Stevie. “He has telegrams from stars—they all say ‘Break a leg.’ It’s an old Broadway tradition.”
“Were there lots of stars backstage?” Stevie said.
Helen shook her head. “Skye had a cousin there.”
“So his cousin was glamorous?” Stevie said. She figured that movie stars must have outstanding cousins.
“He was nice,” Helen said. “He’s in junior high school. He likes math.”
“I guess there was lots of food backstage,” Stevie said. “Like incredible pastries.”
“I saw a couple of paper cups of coffee,” Helen said. “That’s all.”
Stevie had imagined the backstage filled with celebrities and fancy furniture and great food. Instead, it sounded kind of … ordinary.
“But Skye was great,” Stevie said.
“The greatest,” Cathy, one of the other girls, said. “He’s making another horse movie. He said to tell you he’d write you a long letter about it.”
“So dinner afterward was great,” Stevie said.
“It was great,” Cathy said. “But I’m not used to eating so late. I’m bushed.” She gave a huge yawn.
“What about the limo?” said Stevie.
“It was good,” Kim, another girl, said, yawning, too.
“People sure get used to glamour fast,” said Stevie.
“Glamour isn’t so … glamorous,” said Helen with a grin. “If you know what I mean.”
Stevie realized that the Broadway show and going backstage and eating at a restaurant had been fun, but not incredible. She hadn’t missed out on as much as she’d thought. Actually, she’d had a good time at the hotel with Ms. Dodge.
The Painted Horse Page 5