Changing Leads

by Bonnie Bryant

  “I don’t know.” For the first time, Lisa realized that she really was being silly to worry. Sure, Max could sometimes be a bit abrupt or mysterious, but if there was anything going on with Prancer that she should know about, Carole would know. She spent almost as much time at the stable as the horses did, and she would have told Lisa immediately if anything was wrong with Prancer. They were best friends, weren’t they? “Maybe your idea was right after all,” she told Alex. “I’ve often suspected that Max wishes I would ride other horses sometimes, even though Prancer and I are so obviously perfect for each other.”

  “Maybe you should take his advice and experiment a little,” Alex said. “I must have ridden five different horses since I started going there. It’s fun to try out someone new once in a while.”

  “No way,” Lisa replied quickly. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m perfectly happy with Prancer. Trying to get me to ride other horses when I could ride her just doesn’t make sense. It’s like encouraging me to date other guys even though I already know I’m in love with you.”

  Alex looked a bit startled at the comparison. “I see your point,” he said, obviously completely convinced. Then he changed the subject to the best kind of pickles, and that was the end of that.

  TEN

  A week later, Stevie and Callie were in the tack room at Pine Hollow. Stevie had just finished exercising Belle and was in the middle of a leisurely tack-cleaning session while she waited for Phil to arrive to pick her up for their dinner date. Callie had just finished her daily therapeutic riding session and had stopped in to chat.

  “… and it’s amazing how much easier it all is since I started,” Callie was saying. “The first time they put me on PC, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it. It felt like he was doing all the work, and I was just sitting there like a big old sack of apples. But now …”

  Stevie glanced up from the bucket at her feet and smiled. “I know,” she said. “It’s easy to tell how much better you’re doing now just by watching you. I saw you trotting around the paddock on my way in just now, and if I didn’t know better …” She let her voice trail off, not wanting to sound untactful. Callie already had to know that she looked a lot more, well, normal on horseback than she did when she had to rely on her own two feet—like now, for instance, as she supported part of her weight on a saddle rack and the rest on those ever-present crutches. She didn’t need Stevie to remind her of that fact. To hide her thoughts, Stevie bent down and pulled the stirrup irons she’d been soaking out of the bucket, scratching one last bit of mud off one of the eyes with her fingernail. Then she looked up at Callie again. “Well, you know what I mean.”

  Callie nodded, a flicker of something—pain? annoyance? Stevie wasn’t sure—passing over her face so quickly that it was gone almost before it registered. “Today was a good day,” Callie said. “The kind of day that makes me think my doctors are right when they say I should be walking—and riding—perfectly normally soon.” She paused. “Maybe by Thanksgiving,” she added softly.

  Even though Callie’s words sounded cheerful, Stevie sensed an undercurrent of tension. “Are you okay?” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “Um, I mean, you look a little … I don’t know …”

  “I’m fine.” Callie shrugged. “I told you. It was a good day.” She hesitated, then went on. “Actually, though, I guess maybe I’m a little distracted about something. In a good way, I mean.”

  “What is it?” Stevie stood to put away her stirrups. Then she walked over to the rack where Belle’s sweaty saddle was waiting to be cleaned. “Did your parents decide to let you drop chem after all?” The two girls had spent quite a bit of time over the past week commiserating about their already perplexing assignments. Of course, Stevie hadn’t bothered to share with Callie one reason she couldn’t seem to concentrate in chemistry class—namely, that she spent far too much time glaring at Scott’s impassive back in the front row when she should have been focusing on what the teacher was saying.

  Callie let out a quick laugh. “No, no,” she said. “Nothing quite that thrilling. But it’s still really great news. I don’t remember if I told you before, but my friend Sheila from back home has been talking about visiting me. And I just found out this morning that she’s definitely coming. Soon.”

  “That’s great!” Stevie unbuckled the girth from her saddle. “When does she get here?”

  Callie had her eyes trained on Stevie’s bridle. “That’s still being worked out,” she said. “She’s stopping by as part of her Exclusive Universities of the East Coast tour, so she won’t know until all her interviews are set up.”

  “Oh, she’s a senior?”

  “Yes,” Callie said. “Sheila’s always been really smart. She wanted me to try and finish high school in three years so we could go to the same college.” She shrugged and smiled. “But once I got so into endurance riding I decided all that cramming wasn’t for me after all. Sheila never let me live it down. Then again, I never let her live it down when she placed dead last at a horse show when we were both ten.”

  Stevie glanced up briefly from her work at the saddle rack. “Sounds like you two have quite a history.”

  “Oh, we do,” Callie said quickly. “We’ve been friends forever. Our mothers were college roommates, and they had us playing together right after I was born.”

  “That’s nice.” Stevie scrubbed silently at a stirrup leather for a moment. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something about Callie’s expression still didn’t seem quite right. Was her friend’s upcoming visit really all that was on her mind? Somehow, Stevie wasn’t convinced. Had something happened at her therapy session? At school that day? If Callie was upset or worried, Stevie wanted to help if she could. That was what friends were for.

  Callie was still chattering on, describing the stable in California where she and Sheila had learned to ride together. Stevie watched her face carefully. Yes, she was sure of it: There was a hint of something else behind that smile. Something worried, or maybe sad …

  “Callie,” she interrupted, “are you sure everything’s all right?”

  Callie frowned slightly. “I told you,” she said. “I’m fine.

  “Really?” Stevie persisted. “Because you know, if anything’s bothering you, you can always talk to me. I—”

  “Am I speaking English here?” Callie said sharply. “For the last time, I’m perfectly fine. Okay?”

  “Okay. Sorry.” Stevie turned her eyes back to her task, feeling properly chastised. She still wasn’t convinced that Callie was telling her the whole truth, but it was clear she wasn’t in the mood to share anything further with Stevie. It was at times like these that Stevie remembered that the two of them really had known each other for only a few months. Besides that, Callie was much more reserved and private than Stevie or her other friends. Stevie had to remember that—and respect it—if she wanted to hang out with her.

  Fortunately, Callie’s anger seemed to have passed as quickly as it had flared up. “So anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said in a friendlier tone. “Have you heard anything new about A.J. and Julianna?”

  Stevie smiled, grateful for the change of topic. She had filled in Callie—along with her other friends—about what Phil had told her the week before. “Not much,” she reported, scrubbing at a grimy spot on her stirrup leather. “I talked to Phil last night. According to him, A.J.’s still keeping to himself about the breakup. In fact, Phil says A.J.’s hardly spoken to him—or to anyone else, for that matter—since it happened.”

  “I’m surprised.” Callie lowered herself onto a nearby tack trunk, leaned her crutches against the end of it, and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I know I’ve only hung out with A.J. a few times, but he doesn’t strike me as the strong, silent type.”

  Stevie smiled. “That’s the understatement of the year,” she said. “A.J. has been voted class clown every year since kindergarten. Mostly because he’s always talking, telling jokes …” She trailed off, tryin
g to reconcile the guy she was describing—the A.J. she had always known, the fun-loving person she had seen just a short while ago—with the sullen, withdrawn A.J. Phil had been telling her about for the past week.

  Callie seemed to sense what she was thinking. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Like I said, I don’t know A.J. anywhere near as well as you do. But I do know enough to have seen that he’s a really levelheaded, smart guy. He’ll come around.” She shrugged. “I mean, you said Julianna was his first serious girlfriend, right? The end of a first relationship can be tough. Emotional, you know? Even if he’s the one who ended it.”

  “That’s what I keep telling Phil.” Stevie sighed. “I guess he can’t help worrying, though. Those two have been friends for a long time.”

  She was already starting to lose interest in the subject. She’d listened to Phil go on and on about A.J. for the better part of an hour the night before, and she’d said all she had to say then. She cared a lot about A.J., but she tended to agree with Callie on this one: He would come around when he was ready.

  Callie reached for her crutches. “I guess I should get going,” she said. “Scott should be here any minute to pick me up. I want to look in on PC before I go—he was so good today that I promised him a whole handful of carrots. And I still have to change.” She swept a hand over herself to indicate the breeches and low boots she was wearing.

  Stevie nodded. “See you tomorrow at school,” she said. “Do you have another session tomorrow afternoon? I can give you a ride over here if you want.”

  “Thanks,” Callie said, climbing to her feet. “I do have a session tomorrow. But are you coming straight here after last period? Because I want to get started as early as I can—my physical therapist wants me to take Friday off to rest my muscles, so I want to make sure I get a lot of work done tomorrow.

  “Sure,” Stevie assured her, smiling inwardly at the other girl’s slightly anxious words. If there was one thing Stevie had learned about Callie, it was that she always worked hard at anything she cared about. And she definitely cared a lot about riding, not to mention getting back the full use of her body. “I’ll have you here as fast as the speed limit allows.” Suddenly something occurred to her. “Hey, does this mean you’re free on Friday afternoon?”

  “Like a bird,” Callie said, not looking entirely pleased at that fact.

  “Good,” Stevie said. “Lisa and I were talking about getting together for a nice long trail ride. Why don’t you come along?” She grinned mischievously. “I won’t tell your therapist if you don’t.”

  Callie smiled. “That sounds great,” she said. “I’ll be there—if you’re willing to give me a ride over here two days in a row.”

  “Deal,” Stevie said promptly. She had been working steadily as they talked, and now she realized that her tack was almost clean and Phil still hadn’t shown up. She glanced at her watch.

  Callie noticed. “Got an appointment?”

  “Yes,” Stevie replied. “And he’s late.”

  “So am I. I’d better go before Scott has my hide.” Callie gave Stevie a little wave and headed out of the room.

  Stevie quickly gave her saddle a few final swipes, then returned it to its usual spot. She brushed off her hands, taking one last deep breath of the pungent leather-and-soap-scented air of the tack room before heading for the door herself.

  “Okay, Phil, what’s the holdup?” she muttered as she hurried down the hall.

  She spotted the answer as soon as she rounded the corner. Phil was leaning against the wall near the main door, one sneakered foot propped against the wall behind him, a big smile on his face, looking incredibly cute in his favorite well-worn Washington Redskins jersey and faded jeans. He was deep in conversation with someone, and Stevie’s eyes widened involuntarily as she recognized that someone. It was Scott Forester.

  She stopped short, taken by surprise, not sure whether to interrupt them. Neither of them had noticed her. They were too busy talking and laughing. Here we go again, she thought, a bit disgruntled.

  She knew that Scott liked to talk, and that he could strike up a conversation with just about anyone. But why did he have to choose her boyfriend so often?

  She took a cautious step forward, then another, feeling decidedly awkward. Finally, as she came within a few yards of them, the boys noticed her. Phil smiled in greeting. Scott looked up, and his own smile froze and faded from his handsome, open face.

  “I’d better go find Callie,” he mumbled, his voice suddenly subdued. “See you.” He gave a wave that might or might not have been meant to include Stevie. A moment later he was gone.

  Stevie joined Phil by the door and tipped her head back for a kiss. Then she glanced in the direction Scott had gone. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “You guys looked like you had a pretty lively little chat going there.”

  Phil shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, rubbing one hand over his shirt. “Guess what? Scott just offered me an extra ticket to the Redskins game on Sunday. Isn’t that cool?”

  “Huh?” Stevie wrinkled her forehead, not sure she had heard him right.

  “It was supposed to be some kind of father-and-son outing, but his dad just agreed to head up some congressional commission or other, so he’s got to work that day.”

  “And Scott invited you?” Stevie laughed uncertainly. “What, doesn’t he have any other friends?”

  Phil shrugged again. “I guess he figured I’d appreciate it. You know, because of this.” He tugged on his jersey. “Anyway, what’s the big deal? You seem kind of mad.”

  Stevie took a deep breath. She wasn’t mad—not exactly. Just confused. Maybe a little annoyed … “I guess I just didn’t realize you two were such good buddies,” she said evenly.

  “You know me.” Phil laughed. “Anyone who likes the Skins is my buddy.” He took her by the arm and gave her a searching look. “Hey, you’re not upset because of—you know—you and Scott, are you? I thought we talked about that the other day and you were cool with it.”

  Stevie tried to turn her face away from him. “Of course I’m not upset,” she muttered. “What do I have to be upset about? This has nothing to do with me.”

  “Don’t give me that.” Phil grabbed her dark blond ponytail with his free hand and gave it a gentle yank. “I know you, Stevie Lake,” he said teasingly. “You’re upset because you think Scott’s stealing me away from you and you won’t have anyone to boss around anymore.”

  Stevie couldn’t help smiling. Phil really knew how to get to her. And after all their years together, he often seemed to know what she was thinking before she knew herself—especially if it was something dumb or illogical, like this. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, mostly joking now herself. “You and Scott would make a terrible couple. I mean, who would wear the gown when it was time for the prom?”

  Phil pretended to look thoughtful for a moment, then grinned. “You’re right,” he said, putting both arms around her and squeezing so tight he lifted her right off the floor. “You’d look much cuter than he would in a tux.”

  Stevie laughed out loud this time. Then she gave him a kick in the shin. “Put me down,” she ordered.

  “Not until you say I can go to the game with Scott,” Phil wheedled in a little-boy voice.

  “Fine. Do whatever you want. See if I care,” Stevie said, but her words didn’t have much bite to them now. As Phil lowered her to the floor and released her, she shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you can even put in a good word for me at half time. You know, explain to him that I’m really not second cousin to the devil.”

  “I thought it was first cousin.” Phil ducked to avoid her swinging fist, then went on. “And it’s a deal. I’ll talk you up so much, Scott will probably want to invite you to the prom by the time the game is over.”

  “Fat chance,” Stevie said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  She led the way to the locker room, where she had left her backpack. She felt a little better now about Phil’s new f
riendship with Scott, but still not good. As stupid as she tried to convince herself it was, she still felt bothered by the idea that Phil would want to hang out with someone who had made her life so miserable these past months. He knew how upsetting Scott’s coldness was to her—she had told him often enough.

  Still, she decided as she grabbed her black nylon backpack, it wasn’t worth getting into a fight over. It was just a football game.

  She and Phil didn’t run into Scott or Callie as they left the stable. But once outside, they did spot another familiar face in the schooling ring.

  “Look, there’s Carole,” Phil commented. “I didn’t see her on my way in.”

  Stevie frowned. “I didn’t even know she was here,” she said, although as soon as the words left her mouth she realized how silly they were. Carole was always there. She hardly left the stable except to sleep, eat, and go to school. And she did the last two under protest. But a second later Stevie realized why she had jumped to the unlikely conclusion that her friend had skipped a day. “I noticed that Starlight looked a little frisky and restless when I walked by his stall earlier,” she explained.

  Phil wasn’t paying much attention. His eyes were following Carole and her mount as they cantered smoothly in a wide circle and then turned toward a row of cavalletti lined up on the ground in the center of the ring. Samson didn’t hesitate as he reached the cavalletti and shifted into a trot to negotiate them. “Samson is really something, isn’t he?”

  Stevie nodded. “Let’s go say hi.”

  She and Phil were almost to the fence when Carole brought Samson around again at the end of the course and spotted them.

  “Hi!” Carole called. “I didn’t know you guys were here.”

  Stevie waited for her to trot over to the fence before she answered. “I was just going to say the same thing to you.” She couldn’t help smiling when she got a good look at Carole. Her hard hat was slightly askew, several dark curls had twisted their way out from underneath, and dirt was caked on one cheek. But Samson’s dark coat was spotless, aside from a bit of dust he had kicked up in the ring. That was typical. Carole never paid much attention to little details like personal grooming when she was wrapped up in her work at the stable, but the horses she cared for always looked flawless. “When did you get here?”