“Stevie!” a classmate said. “You found us.”
Stevie climbed off Billy. “Are you okay?” she said to Ms. Dodge. “I’ve been so worried about you.” It was strange, Stevie thought. Somehow she’d known that Ms. Dodge was in trouble.
Ms. Dodge put her chin up. She was pale as a sheet, and her hair was plastered to her head from the rain, but she managed a brave smile. “I’m fine, thank you.” But then she looked miserable. “It’s my fault. I was chasing my scarf. I wasn’t looking where I was going. I fell and twisted my ankle.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Mrs. Martin, patting her hand.
“I’m such a fool,” said Ms. Dodge.
Stevie remembered how Ms. Dodge had comforted her when she had felt like a jerk. “You are no such thing,” she said, sitting on the grass next to her. “You are a wonderful person.”
Spots of color came back to Ms. Dodge’s cheeks. Stevie could tell that she felt a little better.
The policeman knelt next to Ms. Dodge. Gently he felt her ankle and lifted her foot.
Ms. Dodge blinked, but otherwise she gave no sign that she was in pain.
“We’ll have to get this checked,” the policeman said, putting her foot down. “But first we have to get you to a warm, dry place. Can you get to your feet? I’ll help you.”
Ms. Dodge looked up at him shyly. “I think I might be able to.”
As he helped her up, she winced and turned pale again. It was obvious that she wouldn’t be able to walk.
The policeman looked at her thoughtfully. “Have you ever been on a horse?”
“Me?” said Ms. Dodge. “Oh, never.”
“There’s always a first time,” the policeman said with a grin. He turned to Stevie. “Can you bring Billy over here?”
“You bet,” said Stevie. She went to get the horse. Only then did she notice that the hail had turned to rain.
When Stevie brought the horse over, the policeman turned to Ms. Dodge. “I’m going to make a stirrup with my hands. Step into it with your left foot. And then see if you can lift your injured leg over the saddle.”
Ms. Dodge looked doubtfully at the horse.
“You can do it,” Stevie said. “Ms. Dodge, I can tell you’re a great natural rider.”
“You’re just saying that,” said Ms. Dodge.
“No,” Stevie said. “I’m sure.”
Carefully Ms. Dodge put her left foot into the policeman’s cupped hands.
“Put your hand on my shoulder,” he said.
Shyly Ms. Dodge did so.
“Um,” the policeman said to Stevie, “maybe you could give her a push.”
“Absolutely,” Stevie said. If someone had told her that she was going to do this, she would have thought he was crazy. She put her hands on Ms. Dodge’s behind and pushed her up.
“Up you go,” the policeman said.
“Oh,” Ms. Dodge said. She lifted her leg and swung it over the saddle.
The class cheered. “Way to go, Ms. Dodge.” Ms. Dodge smiled.
“If ever there was a photo opportunity, it’s this,” Stevie said. She whipped out her camera and took a picture of Ms. Dodge riding the bay horse. “We’re going to put this one in the yearbook, Ms. Dodge,” she said.
THE POLICEMAN LED the horse around the edge of a little pond and stopped in front of a sign that said STAGE DOOR. He knocked on the door, which was opened by a man in a green parka. “There’s been an accident,” the policeman said. “These people need somewhere dry to wait for help.”
“You bet,” said the man in the parka. Stevie figured he must be a watchman.
The policeman said to Ms. Dodge, “I want you to ease your way back into my arms and I’ll lift you down.”
Ms. Dodge looked worried.
“You can do it,” Stevie said. “The trick is to relax.”
“Relax, relax,” Ms. Dodge whispered to herself.
Stevie knew that Ms. Dodge was getting more and more nervous. “How about a knock-knock joke?” she asked.
Ms. Dodge looked at her with wonder.
“It will help you relax,” said Stevie.
“Ready,” Ms. Dodge said with a smile.
“Knock knock,” said Stevie.
“Who’s there?” said Ms. Dodge.
“Beemer,” said Stevie.
“Beemer who?” said Ms. Dodge.
“ ‘Beemer love,’ ” sang Stevie. “ ‘And with your kisses end this yearning.’ ”
Ms. Dodge giggled. The policeman reached up and pulled her gently from the saddle.
“That wasn’t so bad,” said Ms. Dodge.
The policeman turned to Stevie. “Will you tie up my horse? I’ll help her inside.”
“Absolutely,” Stevie said cheerfully. She tied Billy to a bicycle rack. “Thanks, Billy. You were a real hero today,” she told the horse, giving him a quick pat.
As Stevie walked through the door, she thought, Here I am. Backstage at last. She had read that there were performances of Shakespeare plays in the park during the summer. “At last, the big time,” she said to herself.
She looked around and saw bare tables and old folding chairs. There was a poster for Hamlet on the wall, but it had seen better days. When you got right down to it, this backstage was kind of crummy.
“Oh,” said Stevie in a disappointed voice. “That’s it? I thought backstage would be fancy.”
The policeman grinned at her. “I know what you mean. The first time I went backstage, I was disappointed, too.”
“But this is where Hamlet puts on his makeup,” said Ms. Dodge. “This is where Hamlet turns into Hamlet.”
The policeman turned to the watchman. “Is there any way we can get something hot for these people to drink? They’re soaked.”
The watchman scratched his head. Stevie guessed that he spent most of his time alone and that he was disconcerted by all these people. “I think so,” he said. “Let me see.” He rummaged in a corner and came up with an electric teapot. “We could heat some water,” he said. “I’ve got some cocoa somewhere.”
“That would be wonderful,” Mrs. Martin said. She smiled and nodded as he filled the pot and plugged it in.
The policeman pulled his walkie-talkie from under his poncho. When he turned it on, it erupted into static. He made a face and waited for the static to stop. “I’m in the backstage area at the Delacorte Theatre. I’ve got six kids and two adults here. One adult needs medical attention.” The walkie-talkie blasted noise at him, but he seemed to understand it. “There’s an ambulance coming for you,” he said to Ms. Dodge. “And a police car to take the rest of you back to your hotel. But someone will have to go along in the ambulance.”
“I can’t,” said Mrs. Martin. “I have to stay with the students.” She looked at Stevie. “Stevie, I think you should take Ms. Dodge to the hospital.”
Stevie stood up straighter, her heart swelling with pride.
The watchman reappeared with a stack of cups and a box of cocoa. “Thank you,” said Mrs. Martin. “Let me do the honors.”
“Huh?” said the watchman.
“Let me make the cocoa,” Mrs. Martin said.
“Suit yourself,” said the watchman.
Mrs. Martin measured cocoa into each cup and poured hot water in. There was only enough water to make half a cup of cocoa for each person, but everyone was glad to have even that.
“I would like to propose a toast,” said Ms. Dodge.
“Fine idea,” said Mrs. Martin.
“I would like to toast Stevie for rescuing the class. I don’t know how she did it, and I probably don’t want to know, but I’m glad she did.”
Stevie had to smile. “I’ve got to get a photo of this,” she said. “No one will ever believe that a teacher toasted me unless I have evidence.” She pulled her camera out of her backpack and took a shot of Ms. Dodge and then one of the policeman. And then she took one of Ms. Dodge with the policeman. And then she gave the camera to Helen to take a shot of her with Ms. Dodge an
d the policeman.
“Hey, wait a second,” the policeman said with a grin. He put his police hat on Stevie’s head.
“My parents are really not going to believe this,” said Stevie with a laugh. She turned to Ms. Dodge. “When they see it, they’ll be toasting you.”
“You did it all yourself, Stevie,” said Ms. Dodge.
“I wonder,” said the policeman, pulling his mustache, “if I might have a few of those photographs. As a memory of an … unusual occasion.”
“You bet,” said Stevie. “Give me your address.” The policeman gave her a formal-looking white card. His name was Michael Hill.
“I was also wondering …” Officer Hill paused. “Um.” He looked at Ms. Dodge. Stevie could tell that he thought Ms. Dodge was wonderful and that he wanted to keep in touch with her.
“You’re worried about Ms. Dodge’s ankle,” Stevie said. “Maybe she should write and tell you how it is.”
Ms. Dodge turned pink. “Stevie!” she said.
“A very good idea,” Mrs. Martin said with a smile. “1 think that is something that must be done.”
The policeman gave Ms. Dodge a card. Stevie thought this was a strange way to start a romance, but it seemed to be working.
AN AMBULANCE CAME and the attendants put Ms. Dodge on a stretcher and loaded it into the back.
“Where do I go?” said Stevie, staring at the ambulance. There didn’t seem to be any place for her.
An attendant showed her a pull-down seat next to Ms. Dodge.
The back doors were closed and the ambulance took off with a wail of its siren. Stevie thought this was pretty neat. Even if she hadn’t done any of the things she’d expected to do in New York, she’d done a lot of exciting things.
“How are you feeling?” Stevie asked Ms. Dodge.
“A little tired,” Ms. Dodge admitted, “and a little shaky. I’m not used to having this much excitement in my life.”
“Who is?” Stevie said, taking Ms. Dodge’s hand.
When they got to the hospital, the attendants rolled the stretcher out of the ambulance, snapped down its legs, then pushed it into the emergency room.
Stevie had expected the emergency room to be like the ones on television programs, with people running back and forth. Instead, Ms. Dodge was given a pile of forms to fill out and then was told to wait. She filled the forms out, handed them in, and then nothing happened.
“They’re waiting for us at the hotel,” Ms. Dodge said. “The van is supposed to leave any minute.”
Stevie reached into her pocket and pulled out Officer Hill’s card. “I have an idea,” she said. She went over to the nurse who was handling the arriving patients and gave her the card. “My teacher was in an accident in Central Park, and this policeman wants to make sure that she gets good treatment.” She gave the nurse the card.
The nurse’s eyebrows shot up. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Within minutes, Ms. Dodge had been whisked away to a treatment room.
She came back a little while later with her ankle wrapped and a crutch under one arm. “It’s just a sprain,” she said. “We can get a cab back to the hotel and everything will be fine.”
As they were riding in the cab, Ms. Dodge said, “How did you get me taken care of so fast?”
“I dropped a name,” said Stevie casually.
“Whose name?” said Ms. Dodge.
“Officer Hill’s, the mounted policeman who helped us in the park,” Stevie said. They rode in silence for a minute. “I think it would be nice if you sent him a note to tell him that it’s nothing but a sprain.”
Ms. Dodge smiled. “I believe I will.”
* * *
BY THE TIME the class had boarded the van, everyone was exhausted. Stevie sat in a window seat, and Ms. Dodge sat next to her with her ankle stretched out into the aisle.
“What a trip,” Ms. Dodge sighed.
“There’s only one problem,” Stevie said gloomily. “I’m going to get an F. I never found an object.”
“It’s too bad you couldn’t have written your paper on that carousel horse,” Ms. Dodge said. “I have the feeling that it would have been a wonderful paper.”
“You know something funny?” Stevie said.
Ms. Dodge shook her head.
“When I was looking for help, I happened to pass the carousel, and I took a picture of that horse. And I bought a postcard of the carousel at the Dairy.”
“That’s fantastic, Stevie. I’m so glad,” said Ms. Dodge.
“But there’s still a problem,” Stevie said. “Those are my only illustrations. I’ll have to write seven pages of text.” Stevie wasn’t like Lisa. She didn’t like writing very much.
“Hmmm,” said Ms. Dodge. “I think I have an idea. You know the postcards that you bought at the Metropolitan Museum and the historical society?”
“The ones that made everyone so mad?” Stevie said.
Ms. Dodge nodded. “Those are from the same period as your carousel horse. They would show what that era was like. Also, if I were you, I’d put in something about the Muybridge photographs. He worked in the same period as well.”
“I could be looking at an A,” Stevie said with wonder.
“It’s a possibility,” said Ms. Dodge with a smile.
THE VAN DROPPED the kids off at school late on Friday night, and it was even later before Stevie was picked up by her parents. But the next morning when she woke up, she was raring to go. She hadn’t called Lisa or Carole the night before. Now she could hardly wait.
She figured that calling them at seven A.M. was unfair. It was, after all, vacation.
Seven-thirty seemed a little early, too.
But 7:31 seemed just right. She called Carole first.
Carole answered the phone sounding sleepy.
“We got your storm,” Stevie said.
“What?” said Carole.
Stevie explained how the storm had traveled up the coast to New York and how it had turned to hail and how she was lucky it hadn’t made small holes in her head and how she had fallen in love with a wooden horse named Ralph and how Ms. Dodge had fallen in love with a policeman with a sandy mustache.
“That’s nice,” Carole said, but she didn’t sound very excited.
“What do you mean, That’s nice’?” Stevie said. “That was the dull stuff. I haven’t told you the exciting stuff yet. Like riding in an ambulance. We have to have a Saddle Club meeting right away.”
There was a long pause. Finally Carole said, “Totally.”
“Are you sick or something?” Stevie said.
“No,” said Carole. “Lisa’s here, though. Our sleep was interrupted.… We’ll have to tell you about it later.”
“Meet you at Pine Hollow at nine?” Stevie said.
“Sure,” said Carole.
What is going on? thought Stevie.
WHEN STEVIE GOT to Pine Hollow, Red O’Malley was raking the ring with two assistant grooms.
“What’s up, Red?” said Stevie.
“A waste of time, if you ask my opinion,” said Red.
“How come?” asked Stevie, leaning on the fence.
“The ring will get dry when it gets dry,” said Red. “There’s no point rushing it.”
Red was really annoyed about something. It seemed as if everyone was in a grumpy mood. Stevie wondered why.
When she entered the stable, Stevie breathed the smell of horses and hay. “I’ve been away too long,” she said. She went to Belle’s stall and hugged her neck. “I met a horse just like you called Billy. He was a police horse,” Stevie said. “And I met another horse, not as great as you, but almost. He’s wood. And he can’t talk. He just goes around in circles.” Belle shook her head. Stevie pulled a carrot out of her pocket and fed it to Belle.
“Hi,” came a voice from the other side of the stall door. It was Carole.
“Carole!” Stevie said. She scooted out of the stall and hugged her. “I’m so glad to be back. I’ve got a million things to t
ell you.”
“That’s good,” said Carole in a flat voice.
“Tell me everything you’ve been doing,” Stevie said. “Don’t leave out a single thing.”
“Er,” said Carole.
Lisa was right behind Carole. Stevie threw her arms around her and said, “It’s been a million years.” She stood back. “I want to hear it all.”
Lisa and Carole exchanged looks. The looks meant something, but Stevie couldn’t tell what.
“We’d better do this in private,” Carole said.
“Right,” said Lisa.
“Let’s find an empty stall,” Carole said. “We can talk in there.”
Carole and Lisa sounded so gloomy that Stevie was worried. “Did the sky fall in?” she asked when they’d found a stall.
“If only the sky had fallen in,” Carole said. She flopped down onto the clean straw and looked at Lisa. “I guess I’d better tell her.”
“I’ll tell her,” Lisa said.
Stevie could tell that each of them was trying to save the other one from breaking some horrible news. She put her hand on her stomach. “I’m getting nervous.”
Lisa opened her mouth, put her head back, took a deep breath, and said, “It’s like this.” Then she stopped.
“It can’t be that bad,” said Stevie, trying to make a joke out of it.
Lisa and Carole didn’t even smile.
“WCTV is running a special feature called ‘Genius Kids,’ ” said Lisa. “And they’ve been shooting here.”
“This is a problem?” said Stevie. “So they picked Carole and she’s going to be famous.”
“Not exactly,” said Lisa. “They picked Veronica.”
Stevie gasped. “Why?”
“Her father knows the man who owns the station,” Lisa explained.
“Figures,” Stevie said. “The rat. But what can you do? Those things happen.” She grinned. “I bet she made a total fool of herself.”
“Not exactly,” said Lisa.
“But she always does,” Stevie said.
“Not this time,” Carole said. “Lisa and I covered for her and made her look good.”
The Painted Horse Page 7