Pleasure Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Lila, listen,” Uncle Chester burst in. “I was going to tell you we can’t find the punch bowl. We’ll have to use pitchers instead.”

  “Pitchers? Are you kidding, Dad? No way! We have to find it!” Angie wailed.

  “We’ll go look,” Chad volunteered, elbowing Alex.

  “Okay, boys. Check in the back of the attic. It should be wrapped in—”

  “Honey, I already looked in the attic,” Uncle Chester interrupted.

  “Mom! Ginny punched me!” Beth wailed.

  “That’s because she pulled my hair!” Ginny countered. The two of them simultaneously burst into tears.

  “Hey, wait a minute! Did anyone iron my dress?” Angie cried.

  “You were supposed to do that yourself, dear,” said Aunt Lila.

  “What? You never told me that! I—”

  “Angie,” snapped her father, “you know better than to talk to your mother like that! If you can’t …”

  Standing in a corner of the room, Stevie smiled. She wasn’t sure exactly why, but somehow she was reminded of the time her parents had taken her to see the three-ring circus that came to Washington, D.C., every year. “Do you think anyone will mind if I just grab a sandwich and head out?” she said aloud, to no one in particular. There wasn’t even a second’s pause in the party-conversation din. “Ah, good. I’ll take that as an okay. Let’s see, what should I have? This ham-and-cheese on rye looks good.” Stevie selected a sandwich, wrapped it in a napkin, and turned to go. “All right, if anyone wants me, I’ll be in the barn,” she said. Nobody responded. “Right. See you later, then,” Stevie added. She had always wondered what it would be like to be invisible; suddenly she knew.

  Grabbing her coat from the front hall, she headed out for the small stable. Normally Stevie loved to be in the thick of things when there was excitement in the air, but in this case, her help didn’t seem to be needed or wanted. The best thing to do would be to keep out of the way until the party had gotten going—and, come to think of it, maybe even during it. Maybe she should stay outside the whole night.

  It was funny, though: Once Stevie had greeted the horses again and taken each of them out for a quick grooming, she was almost ready to head back in. She told herself it was because she was so cold—she still wasn’t used to the New Jersey weather, and she’d forgotten to take a hat and gloves with her—but the truth was, although Stevie was horse-crazy, she wasn’t used to hanging out in a stable for hours doing nothing. Or at least, not by herself. If Carole and Lisa had been there, the three of them could have thought of games or made up stories or just talked. But without them, Stevie soon began to feel bored and slightly lonely. Carole probably could have camped out alone at the barn without even noticing the time going by, but Stevie thrived on social interaction. She missed people when she was alone for too long. Looking through the stable window back at the house, she wished she could be more involved with the party, but she didn’t know how.

  “I’ll give it one more try,” Stevie said to Sparkles, giving the palomino a good pat. “There must be something almost fun that I can do.” She tossed all three horses some hay, checked their water, and closed the barn door on the cozy scene.

  Outside, there was no question about it: The storm had hit, and the snow was sticking. Even in the hour she’d been with the horses, a couple more inches had accumulated. The trees were beginning to bow down beneath the weight, and a good layer coated the mailbox and the cars parked in the Lakes’ driveway.

  “You should see it out there,” Stevie commented when she joined her parents back in the kitchen. Her mother was busy folding cloth napkins and nodded absently.

  “Watch that you don’t track any snow into the living room,” Mr. Lake advised. He was struggling with a huge bouquet of flowers wrapped in florist paper, a pair of scissors, and two vases.

  Stevie sighed and headed upstairs. If she was lucky, her parents would return to earth tomorrow. For now she could see she was going to have to put up with their alien substitutes.

  In the second floor hallway Angie had gotten out the iron and ironing board and was attempting to press her dress. “The snow’s really coming down,” Stevie announced.

  “Actually, it’s not as heavy as before,” Angie corrected her. “The minute there’s a lull, the plows will come clear the roads.”

  Stevie was about to protest but decided against it. If Angie wanted to believe the snow was lightening up, why should Stevie worry her more?

  “Look, Angie, is there anything I can do?” Stevie asked.

  Angie looked up briefly and surveyed Stevie’s appearance. “Just make sure you’re out of the shower by five-thirty, okay? I’m going to need at least an hour in the bathroom.”

  “No problem,” Stevie replied. She was glad that her mother had made her pack a skirt since the party was going to be so fancy, but she didn’t see any need to spend hours getting ready.

  For the next half hour, Stevie wandered around the house looking for things she could do to help and trying to get one of the adults to notice the snow. Nobody paid attention to her. They were all too busy with the tasks Aunt Lila had given them. Stevie was now so bored she wanted to scream. On her way up from the basement, where Uncle Chester and her father were digging out card tables, a red plastic sled hanging on the wall caught her eye. She thought of the perfect new snow outside. It was too much to resist. She seized the sled and went to find her brothers. “I’ll make them come with me,” she vowed.

  All three of the boys were sharing a third-floor room. Stevie could barely hide her disgust when she saw what they were doing. Michael was lying on one of the beds watching Chad and Alex try on different shirts to see which ones looked the best.

  “Getting ready for the cheerleaders?” Stevie asked snidely.

  “Getting ready to clean some stalls?” Chad countered, pointing at the hay in Stevie’s hair.

  “Yeah, you sure smell like it,” Alex laughed.

  “You smell like you just took a bath in Dad’s aftershave,” Stevie replied.

  Alex smirked. “I guess you wouldn’t appreciate it since Phil probably always smells like horses, too.”

  “For your information—” Stevie began.

  “Hey,” Michael asked suddenly, “are you going sledding?”

  Stevie gave her youngest brother a huge grin. She hadn’t known how to finish her sentence, since the truth was Phil did smell like horses a lot. But Michael had saved her from having to come up with a good retort. “Yup. Want to come?”

  Michael nodded eagerly. Thank goodness for little brothers who haven’t discovered girls, Stevie thought. Michael probably felt just as left out as she did, with Chad and Alex acting girl-crazy and nobody his age to play with.

  The afternoon was perfect for sledding. Stevie and Michael bundled up and went out to the hill behind the house. They sledded down and walked up countless times, until they were exhausted. Then they made snow angels and started on a snowman. They gave up when it started getting dark and the snow began to fall even harder. They ran to the house, flushed and happy. It was the first time in a while that Stevie had had so much fun with one of her brothers.

  Unfortunately, the warm glow lasted about two seconds. Inside, the morning chaos had evolved into afternoon hysteria. From what Stevie gathered, the caterer was almost an hour late and hadn’t called to say where she was or when she would be coming. The band hadn’t arrived, either; and to make matters worse, TV and radio stations were advising people not to leave their houses or drive anywhere unless absolutely necessary. In her now ironed black dress, Angie was sitting on the sofa in the living room surrounded by well-meaning relatives who were trying to comfort her.

  “I’m sure the caterer will be here as soon as she can. She probably hasn’t called because she doesn’t want to take the time to stop,” Peg Davison said.

  Frowning, Angie folded her hands over her chest. “Or she hasn’t called because she’s stuck in the storm and can’t get near a phone,” she re
torted.

  “Honey, Aunt Peggy is only trying to help,” Angie’s mother told her.

  “I know, but all I can think of is how humiliated I’m going to be if all my friends show up and there’s no party!” Angie wailed. “I’ve spent the last month at school telling everyone how great it’s going to be!”

  “I’m sure your friends will understand,” Stevie’s mother said.

  “You don’t know my friends, Aunt Catherine!” Angie cried.

  At that, Stevie had to stifle a grin. It sounded as if she’d been right about her cousin’s football-team and cheerleading friends. If they were the kind of people who would make fun of someone because a snowstorm had ruined her party, they weren’t real friends at all. Carole and Lisa, Phil and A.J.—even Betsy Cavanaugh—would have cracked up at the situation. They all would have been good sports and had fun—maybe even more fun—without a caterer or a band.

  At that moment, the doorbell rang, interrupting Stevie’s thoughts. “I’ll get it!” Angie fairly shouted, jumping up. “It’s got to be the caterer!”

  “Careful in those high heels!” Aunt Lila called after her.

  Stevie followed her cousin at a safe distance. After hearing so much about it, she was curious to see the famous caterer’s food. But when Angie swung open the door, four bedraggled, snow-covered boys stood on the front steps.

  “Uh, hi,” one of them said nervously.

  Angie’s face went from hope to disappointment to annoyance. “It’s only you?” she demanded. “Well, at least the band is here. I guess that’s better than nothing.”

  Standing a few steps back, Stevie almost snorted. She couldn’t believe her cousin could be so rude! Especially when she was supposed to be best friends with everyone coming.

  The boys looked at one another uncomfortably. “Gee, sorry,” said another of them.

  “Never mind,” Angie snapped. “Where are your instruments?”

  There was a long, awkward pause. Finally the first boy explained. “Well, you see, our van broke down in a drift about a mile away, and we barely made it here on foot.”

  “Yeah, we didn’t have a hat for Capuano here, and he’s getting frostbite on his ears,” another boy added.

  “Excuse me? You don’t have your instruments?” Angie said, her voice as icy cold as the air blowing in the door. For one awful minute she stared at them, enraged. Then she shrieked, turned on her high heels, and fled.

  Stevie would have laughed had she not been so embarrassed. Instead she stood there, speechless at her cousin’s behavior.

  “Uh, hi,” said the boy again. “We’re Voyager. I’m Ted, and this is Mike, Jeff, and Kevin.”

  “Hi!” Stevie said back, recovering herself. Angie was right about one thing: The boys were definitely good-looking. “I mean, come in—you must be frozen.”

  “Practically,” said the boy.

  “I’m Stevie, by the way.”

  “Oh, my gosh, you poor things,” Aunt Lila said, coming up behind Stevie to see what the commotion was. In a flash she had the boys inside and was handing Stevie a pile of coats to spread out on the laundry-room drying rack.

  When Stevie rejoined the group a few minutes later, all four boys were seated around the kitchen table while Stevie’s mother fed them sandwiches and Aunt Lila made hot chocolate. Before long, the boys started to lose their worried looks and relax and enjoy themselves. Stevie decided to do her part to help cheer them up by telling some awful old jokes. “Hey, everybody! What’s black and white and red all over?”

  “A newspaper!” one of the boys called.

  Stevie shook her head. “Nope. It’s a skunk with poison ivy.”

  The boys groaned. “That’s almost as bad as my knock-knock,” Ted volunteered.

  “I seriously doubt that,” Stevie challenged him.

  “All right. Knock-knock,” Ted said.

  “Who’s there?” Stevie asked.

  “Orange.”

  “Orange who?”

  “Orange you glad you’re you?”

  Everyone at the table howled. Then all of the boys started vying to tell their own stupid jokes.

  For the first time all weekend, Stevie began to think the party might not be so boring after all. If there is a party, she thought, looking out the window at the snow.

  IT WASN’T LONG before the guests started trickling in. Every few minutes or so the doorbell rang, and Angie kept running to answer it. Without getting too involved, Stevie kept an eye on the proceedings. Angie, who’d been given a lecture by her parents, managed to greet the guests almost politely, but Stevie noticed her crestfallen look every time somebody who wasn’t the caterer arrived.

  First a handful of girls from the cheerleading squad came. They were wearing boots with their nice dresses and carrying their shoes in bags. “Angie!” one of them shrieked. “You must be a wreck! We didn’t even know if the party was still on.”

  “We made Val’s mom drive us over anyway,” another girl piped up.

  “That’s right. We weren’t about to miss the bash we’ve been hearing about all month,” said the third one.

  Angie smiled wanly. “Oh, good. I’m glad you could make it,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  Out of nowhere, Chad and Alex appeared in the hall. “Here, Angie, we’ll show these girls in. You go and relax.”

  “Relax? Are you kidding!” Angie sputtered. Then the doorbell rang again, and Stevie’s brothers whisked the cheerleaders away.

  It was the Lakes’ next-door neighbors, the Kellys. They had walked over with flashlights. “Gosh, it’s dark out there,” Mr. Kelly said.

  “It sure is. I hope you’re stocked up with candles and flashlights and kerosene in case the lights go,” Mrs. Kelly added. Stevie caught Angie’s horrified look as the couple took off their coats and disappeared into the back of the house.

  A little while later someone showed up in snowshoes. It was Angie’s English teacher, the only teacher she’d invited. “I didn’t want to risk the drive so I came over in these,” the gray-haired man explained.

  “Thanks for coming, Mr. Scott,” Angie said, her voice lackluster.

  Mr. Scott disappeared into the house, reciting Robert Frost’s “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” as he went.

  A few more hearty guests arrived in four-wheel-drive vehicles, on cross-country skis, or simply on foot. By eight o’clock, the kitchen was packed. Almost all of the guests had gravitated to the room and were busy putting away mugs of hot chocolate and whatever food Angie’s parents had managed to dig up. Three or four large guys who Stevie decided had to be football players volunteered to shovel the stone path up to the house.

  Meanwhile the phone was practically ringing off the hook. Stevie’s mother, who was guarding the receiver, had to keep shaking her head at the question on Angie’s face: No caterer—just another guest canceling because of the weather. When a report came over the radio saying the snow would continue all night, it was the last straw for the birthday girl. Angie burst into tears and sat crying in the living room, trails of black mascara and eyeliner running down her face.

  Not knowing what to say, Stevie perched on the window seat watching different people come in to try to comfort her cousin. Her mother tried, then Chad and Alex, then the Davison kids, then Michael, then Uncle Chester. But Angie just cried harder.

  At first Stevie couldn’t help feeling a bit smug. After all the planning, it looked as if the party was going to be a huge disaster. Probably the New Jersey Lakes—and especially Angie—had cursed it by worrying about every last detail so much. Now they would learn their lesson. But then Stevie felt a pang of guilt. Something in her reasoning wasn’t right. Just then Chad walked by with a couple of cheerleaders. Stevie tried to think up something she could say to tease him, but Chad beat her to it.

  “I’m giving Brenda and Diane a tour around the house now,” he said happily. Then he whispered to Stevie, “Maybe you could show them the manure pile later—I know it’s your fa
vorite spot.”

  Stevie made a face. Chad had never gotten over the fact that at Pony Club rallies the stable management judges even examined manure piles to make sure they were up to their standards. But that was Pony Club: Every last detail was—Stevie clapped a hand over her mouth. How could she have been so blind? Of course something in her reasoning was wrong! She had been annoyed at Angie all weekend not because she was discussing and planning every last detail but because she was discussing and planning every last detail for a party! If Angie had been getting ready for a show, Stevie would have been the first to agonize with her over what color breeches she would wear and what food the horses would eat, and to review the classes one by one.

  There was no denying that Angie’s priorities had changed from horses to clothes, cheerleading, and boys. But the truth was Stevie had been so disappointed by the change that she hadn’t been able to see the parallel between planning for a Pony Club event and planning for a social event. When she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising that Angie pursued her new interests with the same single-mindedness that had once made her so successful in the show ring.

  Even more importantly, no matter what Angie liked to do with her time, she was still family and always would be.

  “Hey, Angie?” Stevie said quietly.

  “What?” came a choked response.

  “You know, I was thinking, even though some people are canceling, your family’s almost all here, and so are most of your close friends, aren’t they?”

  Angie nodded dully, her eyes on the living room floor.

  “And even if there won’t be live music, a couple of the guys in the band said they would deejay with the stereo.”

  Angie nodded again.

  “So all we have to do is wait for the caterer. I’m sure she’ll come,” Stevie predicted, crossing her fingers. “In fact, that’s probably her now,” she added, hearing the phone ring again.

  But no sooner were the words out of her mouth than Aunt Lila appeared in the doorway, her face grave. “Angela, that was the caterer.”

  Angie immediately sat up straight. “And?” she asked breathlessly.