“Nothing.” Lisa turned away and busied herself with the platter of chicken. “Nothing at all.”
Later that night Stevie was getting ready for bed when the phone rang. It was the line that served the phone on her own bedside table as well as the extension in her twin’s room and the one in the hall outside the bathroom. She glanced at the clock.
“Eleven-fifteen,” she muttered. “Who would be calling at this hour?”
Someone else picked up after one ring. It’s probably Lisa calling for Alex, Stevie thought, picking up her hairbrush and staring at her reflection in the mirror over her dresser. Maybe she’s calling to tell him she decided to forget about NVU and enroll at Cross County Community College so that she can be even closer to him next year. She still felt a little bit guilty about taking out her worries on her brother the previous day, but she thought it was about time that somebody pointed out the truth to him.
A few seconds later Mrs. Lake poked her head into Stevie’s bedroom. “It’s for you,” she said, gesturing to the phone. “Phil.”
Stevie blinked in surprise. “Is it okay if I talk to him?” she asked uncertainly. Her parents were being pretty strict about her phone privileges because of her grounding. But even under normal circumstances, they frowned on phone calls after ten-thirty.
Mrs. Lake nodded. “Make it quick, though, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks, Mom.” Stevie hurried to pick up the phone. “Phil?” she said. “Hi, it’s me.”
“Hey. I’m glad you can talk.”
Stevie could tell right away that something was wrong. Phil’s voice sounded odd and fuzzy, the way it did when he was really upset. “What is it?” she demanded. “What’s the matter?”
“I just got back from my big night out,” Phil said. “With A.J.”
Stevie perched on the edge of her bed. “Did something happen?”
Phil sighed into the phone. “A lot of stuff happened,” he said heavily. “To start with, A.J. brought a flask along.”
“A what?” For a split second, Stevie didn’t understand what he was talking about. Then she gasped. “Wait—you mean as in alcohol?”
“You got it,” Phil said grimly. “Vodka, to be specific. He was spiking his sodas all night. I didn’t notice at first—that stuff doesn’t really have a smell, you know—and by the time I caught him doing it, he was already pretty wasted.”
“How could you not notice!” Stevie exclaimed, remembering how odd and hyper A.J. had acted at her party, where he’d started everyone drinking after discovering some beer in the Lakes’ garage.
“He hasn’t exactly been acting like himself lately, you know,” Phil replied. “I thought he was just feeling weird about hanging out. You know, it’s the first time we’ve spent time together since the party—outside of school, I mean.”
“Okay. Sorry.” Stevie chewed on her lower lip, gripping the phone tightly as she tried to figure out what to think about this. “So did you try to talk him into laying off?”
Phil sighed again. “Of course I did,” he said. “But he’s gotten really good lately at not listening to anything anybody tries to tell him.”
“Wow.” Stevie shook her head. “So what did you do?”
“I kept trying to talk some sense into him,” Phil said, “until I came back from the bathroom and took a sip of my soda. It tasted a little strange, but I probably would have just thought it was flat or something. Except that, as you know, A.J. has never been able to keep a straight face. And he’s even worse when he’s drunk.”
“What?” Stevie gasped. “You mean he spiked your soda, too?”
“Uh-huh. Nice, huh? Especially since I was driving tonight. It’s just lucky I caught him before I’d taken more than a sip or two.”
Stevie sank back onto her bed, feeling more disturbed than ever by A.J.’s behavior. It was bad enough that he was being reckless with his own life. After all, he was only sixteen: If anyone caught him drinking in public, he could be in a lot of trouble. But it was even worse to hear that he was willing to put Phil at risk, too. The old A.J. wouldn’t have done that, Stevie thought. The old A.J. was a good friend and a good person. I’m starting to think that I don’t know this new A.J. at all. And I’m definitely thinking I don’t like him much.
Still, she knew she couldn’t give up on A.J. yet. Not when there was still a chance of helping him get back to normal. “What did you do then?” she asked Phil.
“I talked him into passing me the flask,” Phil said. “I pretended I wanted a swig. Then I dumped it out in the vase of flowers on the table.” He laughed briefly. “Luckily the flowers were plastic.”
“Was he mad?”
“Not really. The flask was almost empty by then anyway.” Phil sighed. “And he was so drunk that he just thought it was funny. He kept calling me ‘Officer’ for the rest of the evening—you know, like I was the cops or something. He thought that was really funny.” He cleared his throat. “Finally I told him I was tired, and I dropped him off at home. That was a few minutes ago. I still feel like I should have done something more, though. I mean, after what happened at your party …”
“You did what you could,” Stevie said, trying to sound reassuring. “Anyway, try not to worry too much. This probably doesn’t mean anything. He’s obviously still having trouble dealing with his parents, and so he decided to—”
She cut herself off as her mother stuck her head in the room again and gave her a pointed look. Stevie gulped and glanced at the clock.
“Whoops,” she said. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Phil said. “Sorry for calling so late, but I’m just feeling kind of freaked, you know?”
“I know.” Stevie shot her mother an apologetic smile. Mrs. Lake cocked one eyebrow sternly before backing out of the room. “Maybe we can talk about this some more when we see each other at the horse show on Saturday, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks for listening,” Phil said softly. “I love you, Stevie.”
Stevie felt a lump form in her throat. How long had it been since he had said those words to her face, instead of through the impersonal distance of a phone line? “I love you, too.”
She waited for the click from the other end of the line before she hung up. Then she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She still wasn’t sure what to think about A.J.’s drinking, but she did know one thing: If she didn’t get to see Phil soon—feel his arms around her, his kiss on her lips—she would go crazy.
Lisa looked up from her French homework and glanced at her watch when she heard the front door slam. Eleven-thirty. It’s about time, she thought irritably, standing up from her desk and stretching. I thought he was never going to leave.
She had excused herself from the dinner table as early as possible, claiming that she had a lot of homework. Her mother and Rafe had been so busy giggling over something stupid their boss had said at work that they’d hardly seemed to notice her departure.
Eventually Lisa had heard the sound of their voices as they moved from the kitchen into the living room. After that there had been an occasional burst of laughter or loud conversation. In between were long periods of quiet, which were even worse. Lisa hated the feeling of being afraid to walk around her own house without stumbling across something she really, really didn’t want to see.
Pushing those thoughts out of her head, Lisa hurried downstairs and found her mother puttering around the kitchen. “Hi,” Lisa said. “Did Rafe go home?”
“He just left.” Mrs. Atwood opened a cabinet and pulled out a clean glass. Heading to the refrigerator, she poured herself a glass of iced tea from the pitcher, which was almost empty. “Thanks again for making such a nice dinner tonight, sweetie. I think Rafe had a really nice time. He thinks you’re wonderful, you know.” She smiled and patted Lisa’s cheek on her way to the table. “Almost as wonderful as I do.”
“That’s nice.” Lisa smiled blandly, willing herself to let the comment pass. This evening might not have go
ne quite the way she’d planned, but she still wanted to share her news with her mother before any more time passed. “Listen, Mom. I actually do have something important to tell you. I just didn’t want to say anything before, while, um, we had company.”
Mrs. Atwood settled herself in her chair and took a sip of her tea. “What is it, dear?”
Lisa sat down across from her. “It’s sort of important. I think you’ll be really happy.” She felt a flutter of nervousness, though she wasn’t sure why. What she was about to announce was guaranteed to make her mother’s good mood even better. “It’s about college.”
“What about it?” Mrs. Atwood asked pleasantly.
Lisa took a deep breath. “I decided where I’m going next year,” she said. “I’m going to Northern Virginia U.”
“That’s nice, dear,” Mrs. Atwood said. “But why don’t you wait until you hear back from all the schools you applied to before you make up your mind? After all, you don’t have to reply until spring.”
“I already replied,” Lisa said. “I replied to NVU. I told them I was coming.”
Mrs. Atwood frowned, looking confused. “What are you talking about? You haven’t even been accepted yet. I’m sure you will be, of course, but—”
“Yes I have,” Lisa interrupted. “I have been accepted. I got the letter about a week ago. I forgot to show it to you when it came—sorry.”
“Wait a minute.” Mrs. Atwood pushed her glass away so quickly that some of its contents sloshed over the side onto the table. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You got accepted to NVU and you forgot to tell me? And you already sent back notice that you’re going there?”
“That’s right.” Lisa smiled tentatively. Her mother didn’t seem to be following what she was saying too well. “I mailed back the form last week. Isn’t that great? It’s all settled.”
Mrs. Atwood didn’t speak for a second. Her brown eyes blinked rapidly a few times. “Are you crazy!” she exclaimed.
“What?” Lisa was startled and dismayed. “What do you mean? I thought you’d be happy.”
“Happy?” Mrs. Atwood cried, sounding horrified. “How could I be happy that you did this—made such an important, life-changing decision without even consulting me?”
“I wasn’t trying to leave you out. It’s just that when I realized how perfect NVU is for me, I couldn’t wait to send back my response.”
Mrs. Atwood shook her head grimly. “And I suppose you couldn’t wait to think about it a little longer, either?”
Lisa gripped the edge of the table. “I did think about it,” she insisted. She really didn’t understand why her mother was reacting this way. This was supposed to be good news. “I thought about it a lot. And I really think I made the right decision.”
“Well, this is awful. Just awful,” Mrs. Atwood declared, talking more to herself than to Lisa. “I can’t believe you could do something like that without even telling me.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at Lisa suspiciously. “Your father didn’t put you up to this, did he?”
Lisa grabbed her head, wondering exactly when she’d wandered through the looking glass. Her mother was so upset that she wasn’t even making sense. Why would her father, who lived in California, scheme behind his ex-wife’s back to get Lisa to go to a college in Virginia? “Of course not,” she said. “He doesn’t know anything about it yet.”
“Never mind him,” Mrs. Atwood said grimly. “He’ll never need to know about this little fiasco if we can figure out a way to undo it.”
Lisa stood up. She could feel her hands starting to shake. “What’s wrong with you?” she cried. “You’re acting like this is some tragedy. Don’t you understand what I’m telling you? I don’t want to undo it. I made up my mind. I want to go to NVU!”
Mrs. Atwood took a deep breath. “Why don’t you go up to bed now, Lisa?” she said evenly. “We can discuss this further tomorrow. After I’ve had a chance to take it in.”
“Fine.” Lisa headed for the stairs and rushed up to her room, feeling shaken and confused. What was wrong with her mother? She had no idea, but she hoped she got over it soon. Because Lisa had already decided she was going to NVU, and her mother was just going to have to accept it.
Four
Carole dropped Samson’s face sponge into her grooming bucket and gave him one last pat on the neck. “Good practice today, big guy,” she told the gelding fondly.
Samson ignored her, seeming much more interested in his hayrack than in her words of praise. Carole smiled and let herself out of the stall, leaving him to his snack. Slinging his tack over her arms, she headed down the aisle.
When Carole entered the tack room, Stevie looked up from scrubbing Belle’s saddle. “Hey,” she said. “Did you just finish with Samson?”
“Uh-huh,” Carole replied, setting her saddle on the rack beside Stevie’s. “He did really well today. But I still can’t believe the show is only four days away.”
Stevie snorted. “Tell me about it. I’m getting so nervous that Belle is starting to give me funny looks.”
“You? Nervous?” As she hung Samson’s bridle from a handy hook, Carole cocked a surprised eye at her friend. Stevie wasn’t usually the type to suffer from stage fright, before a horse show or at any other time. “I don’t believe it.”
“What can I say?” Stevie shrugged and rubbed her sponge on a bar of saddle soap. “This show’s a pretty big deal, you know. And it’s not as if Belle and I are natural superstars the way you and Samson are.”
Carole felt herself blush. “We’re not—”
“Besides,” Stevie interrupted before she could finish protesting. “Practically everyone I know is going to be there. Kids at school keep stopping me to ask what time the show starts. I think everyone in town is planning to attend.”
“Tell me about it.” Carole grinned. “Even a couple of my teachers are talking about coming. Mr. Whiteside—he’s my algebra teacher—said he wants to be able to say he knew me when.”
Stevie grinned back. “I’ll be doing more than saying it,” she said. “When you’re some famous Olympic champion someday, I’ll be selling your old e-mails and postcards to the highest bidder.”
Carole laughed and gave her a playful shove. “Stop it. Now pass me the saddle soap and tell me what else is new.”
“Okay.” Stevie’s expression sobered. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Starlight. You know, about finding the perfect buyer.”
Carole felt her heart skip. It was still hard for her to think about what she was planning to do—to sell the horse that had been such a huge part of her life for so many years. That was one reason she’d asked Stevie to help her track down a buyer. “Did you come up with anything?”
“Maybe,” Stevie said. “You know Rachel Hart, right?”
“Of course.” Rachel was a member of the intermediate riding class at Pine Hollow and a seventh-grader at Fenton Hall. “What about her?”
Stevie shrugged. “I remembered that Michael mentioned a while ago that she was hoping to get her own horse for her birthday next month,” she said. “They’re in the same class, remember?”
Carole nodded. “So do you think Rachel would be interested in buying Starlight?” She felt a flash of hope. She hadn’t even dared to imagine that she might find a buyer for Starlight right there at Pine Hollow. It would be the perfect solution. She would still be able to see him, maybe even ride him once in a while. And she would be able to make sure that he was being well taken care of. Not that she would have much to worry about if Rachel bought him. She was one of the most thoughtful and responsible students in the intermediate class. Besides that, she was an awfully good rider, and getting better all the time. She and Starlight would be a wonderful match.
Stevie shrugged. “I haven’t said anything to her yet,” she said. “But I did a little asking around, and she’s definitely planning to hit her parents up with the horse idea soon. It’s all her friends can talk about.”
Carole nodded thoughtfu
lly, leaning over to fish a cloth out of a basket near the wall. As she dipped it into the water bucket at Stevie’s feet, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of nostalgia at the thought that Starlight could soon be a special birthday gift for someone else. He had been the most wonderful Christmas present she had ever received. But she tried not to dwell on the past. She was trying to secure the best future for both of them. And if she was lucky, her own future might include another very special gift someday soon. She was hoping that once Starlight’s sale was complete, she could convince her father to chip in at least some of the extra money it would take to buy Samson from Max. Carole’s seventeenth birthday was coming up the following week, and then Christmas was just six weeks or so later.…
“But that’s not all,” Stevie said, shoving aside the water bucket as she moved around to tackle the other side of Belle’s saddle. “I talked to that girl last night—you know, the one my cousin told me about? I mentioned her the other day.”
“I remember.” Carole squeezed the excess water out of her cloth, hardly noticing when half of it dribbled down her arms. “You said she’s like fourteen or so, and she lives somewhere sort of near here, right?”
“Her name’s Tanya,” Stevie reported. “She lives over in Mendenhall—you know, that town a few miles past Berryville. I told her all about Starlight, and she’s really interested. Do you want to talk to her?”
Carole gulped and absently ran the damp cloth she was holding over the cheek strap of Samson’s bridle. It was harder to think about selling her beloved Starlight to a total stranger than passing him along to someone she already knew and trusted right there at Pine Hollow. Still, she knew she had to be practical about this. If Rachel didn’t pan out, she would need a backup buyer. “Okay,” she said. “Go ahead and give her my number. Oh, and feel free to talk to Rachel about Starlight if you want. Just make sure you swear her to secrecy. I don’t want anyone, especially Max, to hear about this until I’m ready to tell him.”
Riding to Win Page 4