Nightmare

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Right,” Carole said, but she didn’t sound as if she meant it, and her friends picked up on that immediately. Stevie glanced over at Lisa, who shrugged quickly, out of Carole’s sight. Carole could agree out loud; she could hope that Judy was right; but her jacket pocket still had carrots in it that belonged to Delilah. She couldn’t bring herself to tell anybody that, because then she might have to acknowledge out loud that something was wrong, really wrong. Loss of appetite was only one symptom of swamp fever, but it was a symptom.

  Carole and Lisa didn’t stay long at Stevie’s house. For one thing, Stevie still had to clean up the kitchen. For another, so did Lisa and Carole. And then Lisa mentioned that she wanted to leave plenty of time later in the evening to read the book Chad had given her.

  They wouldn’t all be able to meet at Pine Hollow the next day because Lisa said she had to go to the library. Stevie frowned ever so slightly when she heard that, but she remembered that she and Carole weren’t going to try to stop Lisa from doing her work. They were just going to watch to see if they ought to. Okay, so she’d wait. Stevie said she’d see Carole at Pine Hollow the next afternoon.

  “I know, I know,” said Carole. “You just want to make sure that Belle is okay after having to hear that old knock-knock joke from me, right?”

  There was a twinkle in Stevie’s eyes. “Well, I did hear a good one today,” she said. “I’d tell it to you now, but I want to try it out on Belle first.”

  LISA SLAMMED HER lunch tray down next to Carole.

  “Not a happy camper today?” Carole asked, surmising that so far, at least, Lisa wasn’t having a good day.

  “Definitely not,” Lisa said. She examined the contents of her tray to see if she’d done any damage. Since only a container of yogurt and an apple rested on it, no harm was done.

  “What’s the matter?” Carole asked, somewhat more sympathetically.

  “It’s that Fiona,” Lisa said. “You wouldn’t believe her! Kissing up to the teacher all through history class. Mr. Mathios couldn’t even see through it. He just seemed to lap it up. Every time she said anything, he said, ‘Very good, Fiona,’ like nothing anybody else in the class had to say was very good.”

  Carole opened her milk carton and considered the situation. “Well, what did he say when you commented on something?” she asked.

  “Once he said, ‘Good question,’ and another time he said he was glad I’d mentioned something. Oh, and about my quiz he said, ‘Nice work, Lisa,’ like that was a compliment or something.”

  “Sounds like he said pretty much the same thing to you that he did to Fiona,” Carole said, treading carefully.

  “No, it’s not the same at all,” Lisa countered. “Maybe you just had to be there, but I’m telling you, this girl is the teacher’s pet, and it’s making me sick to my stomach. She is so obvious!”

  It was all Carole could do to keep from asking Lisa if she thought other people might consider Lisa the teacher’s pet in some of her classes. Lisa was such a good student that teachers naturally liked and respected her. If that wasn’t being a teacher’s pet, Carole wasn’t sure what was. This was a sensitive area for Lisa, though, especially where it concerned Fiona.

  “Lisa, do you think it’s possible that you might be envious of Fiona?” Carole asked.

  “Envious?” Lisa asked in return, saying the word as if it was totally odious to her. “How could I be envious of her?”

  “Well, it seems like you wish Mr. Mathios had given you the attention he gave to Fiona. Would it feel nicer if he’d said, ‘Very good, Lisa,’ instead of ‘Fiona’?”

  “No, you don’t get this at all,” Lisa said, disturbed that her friend was so completely missing the point. The point was that Fiona was trying so hard to be nice to Mr. Mathios, and he didn’t even see through it!

  “I think I do get it,” Carole said. “Really, I do, Lisa. It’s frustrating and annoying when someone else is getting the attention and admiration that you’ve earned and deserve. But the fact is that not everybody can always be ‘best,’ whether that means in one class on one day or even in a class throughout a year. You are a very good student, you get nothing but As—”

  “I got a B-plus in math last year.”

  “That was only the spring semester grade. Your overall grade for the year was a nice little A, as usual. You don’t always have to get As,” Carole said. “It’s okay if you are better at some things than others and it’s okay if somebody else is better than you are at something.”

  “No, you don’t understand, Carole,” Lisa said. “The point is that you and Stevie can be satisfied with second best—”

  Carole could feel anger rising in her. She didn’t like being told she was second rate. But she knew that this conversation wasn’t really about her. It was about Lisa, who seemed to need a reminder of what was important and what wasn’t. Carole stayed as calm as she could manage and spoke to her friend as warmly as possible under the circumstances.

  “That’s not fair,” Carole said. “And besides, second best doesn’t matter at all as long as you, or I, or anyone, knows that they’ve done their personal best. If I work at something really hard, put everything I can into it, and it’s not wonderful, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I did the best I could. Maybe I learned something from doing it and maybe the next time I do it, I’ll do it better. You should keep that in mind.”

  “But you’re always the best at riding,” Lisa said. “It’s your way of knowing that you are the best at something.”

  “Maybe,” Carole said. “But I’m not always the best. A lot of times other people do things better than I do. Stevie’s much better at dressage than I am.”

  “Stevie’s horse is better at dressage than Starlight,” Lisa said.

  “No, not really. Stevie just enjoys dressage more than I do, so she works at it harder and Belle has learned better.”

  “But you’re both better riders than I am.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true,” said Carole. “But I am sure that if it is true, it doesn’t matter. You are my friend and Stevie’s friend and that’s much more important to us than if you can do a turn on the forehand or a flying change.”

  Lisa looked distressed. She took two spoonfuls of her yogurt and then pushed the tray away. She’d spent more than an hour the previous Saturday trying to get Prancer to do a flying change, and she hadn’t managed it. That was another area in which she was failing, just like in history.

  Carole wasn’t done. She had one more thing to say to her friend. “There’s something else I’m sure of,” she said. “I do understand how much success in school means to you, but it’s not really the way I feel about horses. No matter how much I love horses—working with them, riding, taking care of them—I’m never going to let them make me sick.”

  Lisa opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, the bell rang. Lunch was over. It was time to get back to class.

  “I’m going to the library after school,” Lisa said, standing up, “so I’ll see you at home. And, uh, thanks.”

  Carole watched Lisa head for her math class and knew that Lisa’s “Thanks” was sincere. Her message had been received, though not welcomed. It was okay. Sometimes being a friend meant hurting someone’s feelings. Carole knew that being honest and being right weren’t always fun.

  She picked her books up from the table and then gave it a final glance. Lisa’s lunch was almost completely uneaten. She’d just tasted the yogurt and left the apple untouched. Carole was going to Pine Hollow after school. She could put the apple to good use. She stuck it in her book bag, knowing instinctively that, unlike either Stevie or Lisa, she wouldn’t forget she’d brought the apple for the horses at Pine Hollow. Lisa was right about one thing. When it came to horses, Carole always did her very best.

  CAROLE DROPPED HER book bag in her cubby at Pine Hollow, but not before she had fished Lisa’s apple out of it. She found a knife by the refrigerator and cut the apple into quarters.

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nbsp; It hadn’t been a very good afternoon for Carole. She’d spent most of it wondering where her father was and what he was doing. She’d spent the rest of it worrying that Lisa would be angry with her for speaking her mind. She’d spent almost none of it paying attention to anything any of her teachers had said. Nobody, but nobody, was saying, “Very good, Carole,” that afternoon.

  Finally, after her last class had ended, she’d grabbed her things and run for the door. Going to Pine Hollow was always “very good, Carole,” as far as she was concerned. And then, on her way out, she’d seen Lisa, who was heading for the library. Lisa had waved cheerfully and told her she’d see her later. Carole hoped that meant that she had taken in Carole’s message and wasn’t angry. It could also mean that Carole’s message hadn’t begun to sink in, and therefore Lisa wasn’t holding a grudge because she didn’t know she had anything to hold a grudge against. Life could be so complicated sometimes!

  Carole put the apple pieces in a plastic bag and headed straight for the feed shed. Delilah seemed to be waiting patiently for her. She looked up solemnly when Carole walked in. Carole checked her over. The mare looked okay. Nothing was obviously wrong, though she was a little more restrained than usual. But then, usually, she was surrounded by a lot of activity, and that could stimulate any horse to be livelier.

  “How you doing, girl?” Carole asked. Delilah nudged her gently, then nuzzled her neck. Carole loved that feeling. She took one of the apple pieces from the plastic bag and held it out to Delilah.

  “It’s a present from Lisa,” Carole explained to the mare. Delilah sniffed at it curiously and then picked it up with her teeth, brushing the palm of Carole’s hands with her soft warm lips. She muched methodically, dripping some saliva and apple bits, swallowed, and then waited expectantly for a follow-up to the snack.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Carole told her. “You’re not the only horse I care about in this place. You have to share this apple with Starlight, Belle, and, um, well, I guess Nero, to celebrate his getting well. I just wanted to be sure you were okay. I’ll come back again tomorrow to see you. Okay?”

  Delilah didn’t answer. Carole took that for an okay. She gave the horse a final hug and headed out of the feed shed to dole out the rest of the apple.

  The first person she saw when she got back to the stable was Stevie, who was busily picking out Belle’s hooves and chattering to the mare as she worked.

  Carole picked up a mane comb from Stevie’s grooming bucket and went to work next to Stevie.

  “Trying out that new knock-knock joke?” she asked.

  “I did,” Stevie said. “She didn’t like it, though. She said she’d already heard it from Barq.”

  “Figures,” Carole said, smiling to herself. Stevie was truly irrepressible, and it was one of her most endearing qualities.

  “So, how was today?” Stevie asked. “Any more word from your dad?”

  “Not yet,” Carole said. “Though I haven’t been back to the Atwoods’, so who knows? But I had lunch with Lisa, and I’ve got to tell you, she’s getting more and more obsessive about her history class and her history paper. She was envious of this girl, Fiona Jamieson, because the teacher had said, ‘Very good, Fiona,’ to her in class but he’d only said, ‘Good question’ to Lisa.”

  “Oh, boy,” said Stevie. “I think if a teacher told me I’d asked a good question, I’d leap up and down for joy. Oh, no, that’s not right. One of my teachers did say that to me one time because I’d asked if the wailing sound outside the room was the fire alarm going off.”

  “Stevie, it’s a good story, but I don’t think it’s going to do Lisa much good. I think we’ve got to stop keeping an eye on her and start a Saddle Club project that’ll save her from going overboard with this competitive student thing.”

  “I know, I know. You’re right,” Stevie said. “But what on earth can we do to help her?”

  “That’s it!” said Carole.

  “What’s it?” Stevie asked.

  “We have to help her. If we do some of the work on her paper, it’ll take some pressure off her,” Carole said.

  “We can’t do that. It’s called plagiarism or something like that. It has to be her own work, and besides, there isn’t a history teacher in the world who wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a paper I wrote and one Lisa wrote.”

  “No, I don’t mean that we write it for her. Of course we can’t do that. But we can do some of the background work, you know, like Chad did just by giving her a book she can use. Maybe if we point out to her where she can find some good information, that would be helpful. Since your family has had a computer longer than anyone else’s, you’re the best typist in The Saddle Club. You could do some of the typing for her. See what I mean?” Carole asked.

  “I guess I do,” Stevie said. “But you know, sometimes it scares me when I look at my friends and begin to see myself. You guys are getting more and more like me every day.”

  “Does that mean I’m going to have to put licorice chips on peppermint ice cream?” Carole asked in mock horror.

  “Hmmm. Sounds delicious,” Stevie said. “But I don’t think we have time for a trip to TD’s tonight.” TD’s was the ice cream parlor where The Saddle Club often treated themselves while they had club meetings. “No, we’ve got to finish up here and then get to my house for a trip on the Internet.”

  They redoubled their efforts to make Belle’s coat gleam, because after that was done, they had to groom Starlight and visit Nero and give out the rest of the apple. There was a lot of horsework to be done before they could attempt progress on Lisa’s homework.

  “UH-OH,” STEVIE SAID, looking at the computer screen in front of her.

  “What’s the matter?” Carole asked, looking up from the newspaper that had held her interest while Stevie clicked away at the keyboard. “Didn’t you get anything with the search?”

  They were using the Lakes’ on-line service to try to find material for Lisa’s paper. It had taken a long time to get the information they wanted. It wasn’t that the computer was slow; it was that there were so many other things to do on their way to the arms buildup in Germany. They’d spent some time reading on-line bulletin boards, sending messages, playing games, and chatting with friends before they’d actually gotten started on their search.

  “No, that’s not the problem. I got too much,” Stevie said. Carole put down the newspaper. It was too full of talk about the summit meeting in Paris to have anything about desert operations. She looked over Stevie’s shoulder at the computer screen. The screen informed them that they had found more than twenty thousand matches to their key word.

  “Perhaps we should narrow the search just a little bit,” Carole suggested.

  “How utterly logical of you,” Stevie teased. “First you’ve got a wild scheme in your head, and then you’ve got a sensible suggestion. It’s hard to tell if you’re getting more like me or more like Lisa every day!”

  “Peer pressure,” Carole said. “It’s supposed to make you crazy. It’s clearly working—or else it’s just you guys who are making me crazy!”

  Stevie typed in several words this time, not just Germany, and set the search mechanism to work.

  When the results came up, there were only twenty-five items. That was much more manageable than twenty thousand. She printed the list, then set about searching for something else.

  “What are you looking for now?” Carole asked, peering at the screen. “Underground Railroad? Are you trying to get a head start on Lisa’s paper for American history next year?”

  Stevie laughed. “No, not really. I’m just interested in the subject. I’m reading a book about it—it’s really good, and I’ll lend it to you when I’m done. I thought I might be able to get some background information—Hmmm.” She studied the screen as her results came up. She pressed Print and then logged off. “I’ll look at that later,” she said.

  “Is this a novel you’re reading or a history book?” Carole asked.
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br />   “It’s a novel,” said Stevie. “But it’s based on the diary of a real person. It’s a great book, but it’s especially interesting …” Stevie hesitated. Was she being silly in thinking that Hallie and Esther must have come near where they lived now? She didn’t think she was, but she thought her friends might describe the idea as “one of Stevie’s wild schemes.” She wasn’t in the mood for ridicule at the moment, so she decided to keep her peace. “… it’s based on something that definitely did happen. Anyway, you’re going to like the book a lot. It’s called The Path to Freedom, by Elizabeth Wallingford Johnson.” What she didn’t say was that she was convinced Carole and Lisa would both love it because Stevie was planning to prove that a lot of the book happened practically in their backyards. Or, more exactly, in Pine Hollow’s backyard.

  “Sounds familiar,” Carole said. “I must have heard about it or read something somewhere.”

  “Well, people must talk about it because it’s really good,” said Stevie.

  “Maybe,” said Carole. “But whatever, it’s definitely familiar.”

  “Stevie! Dinner!” her brother Chad called loudly from the dining room.

  Carole and Stevie had been so busy playing on the computer that they hadn’t noticed how much time had flown by.

  “Oh no!” said Carole. “I’m late!”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you’re only going a couple of houses away, then.”

  Carole answered her, but she knew that Stevie never heard her because she was running so fast out the door.

  How could she do this? She was a guest at the Atwoods’. She knew what time they ate dinner. She’d almost kept them waiting last night, and tonight it was even worse.

  She flew down the street, ran up the walkway, and burst through the door.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried out as she entered the Atwoods’ home. “I didn’t mean to be late. I just got caught up in something at Stevie’s house.”