Still thinking about that, she headed inside, where Alex was hanging up his coat in the front closet. For a moment Stevie was tempted to grab him and shake him and demand what on earth he was thinking. How could he go from a great girl like Lisa to a total loser like Nicole?
But she controlled herself. “Well, good night,” she said as calmly as she could. “See you in the morning.”
Alex looked surprised but relieved. “Good night, Stevie.”
After all, it won’t do any good to make a bigger deal out of this than it deserves, Stevie thought as she climbed the stairs toward her room. So I’ll just have to sit back, bite my tongue, and wait for it to pass.
THREE
“I’ll be out in a sec,” Callie told Scott the next morning, unhooking her seat belt as her brother pulled into Pine Hollow’s parking area with a spray of gravel. “You don’t have to come in.”
“No hurry. I’ll just stretch my legs for a minute,” Scott said, turning off the ignition. “Besides, I think I may have left my chem notebook here on Friday. I’d better look for it.”
Callie shrugged. “Okay, but don’t wander off. My appointment is for eleven-thirty, and I don’t want to be late.” Without waiting for her brother’s reply, she hurried toward the stable. She was feeling anxious and disgruntled—she hated to be late, and she hated it even more when it was her fault.
Why couldn’t I keep track of a simple piece of paper? she thought irritably as she strode across the entryway. I mean, I took the trouble to write down the address. The least I could do was not lose it for a whole three days.
She shook her head, disgusted with herself. She’d taken down the information carefully, and she wasn’t usually so scatterbrained. She knew she’d had the paper on Friday in chemistry class, because she’d pulled it out to double-check the time. But somehow it must not have made it back into her bag after that, though she hadn’t noticed it was missing until just an hour earlier when she was getting ready to go. She’d tried to call Pine Hollow to ask someone there to look up the address for her in the office address file, but the stable’s phone had been busy for a good ten minutes, and she hadn’t wanted to waste any more time. When Scott had suggested that they stop off at Pine Hollow on their way to the appointment, she had been quick to agree.
I guess I’m just kind of worked up about this horse thing, she told herself as she crossed the entryway at a brisk walk. That was true enough. In fact, she couldn’t seem to think about anything else for very long these days. For a long time, most of her focus had been on getting well—recovering from the accident, learning to walk again, keeping her muscles in shape with her therapeutic riding. But now that she was officially better, she couldn’t wait to get back to where she’d been before the accident, and beyond. She’d already started working on her own conditioning by training with Barq, one of Pine Hollow’s horses. But Barq could only take her so far. As long as she didn’t have a real endurance horse, every second that ticked by felt wasted. I need to find the right horse, she thought. I can’t afford to mess up here. My whole competitive career depends on that. Everything is at stake.
When she reached the stable office, she was surprised to see that the door was closed. Callie couldn’t recall the last time that had been the case—normally it was propped wide open with a bucket or the phone book or a heavy piece of tack.
“Hey,” Callie called to an intermediate rider who happened to emerge from the tack room at that moment. She struggled to remember the younger girl’s name. Mary? Maddie? Meg? “Um, hi,” she said, giving up on the name. “Do you know if Max is in there?” She gestured to the office door.
The girl nodded. “He’s interviewing someone,” she said, hoisting the bridle she was carrying a little higher on one shoulder. “You know, for the stable hand job.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Callie glanced at the door again, sighing in frustration. She hardly noticed when the younger girl moved on.
Just my luck, she thought, checking her watch. It was already almost eleven o’clock. If she didn’t get the information she needed soon, she was definitely going to be late for her appointment.
Still, she wasn’t quite desperate enough to burst in on Max’s interview. Not yet, anyway. Glancing at her watch again, she turned and wandered slowly down the hall, trying to keep her impatience under control. She was nearing the end of the hall when someone came hurrying around the corner, almost crashing into her.
“Oh!” exclaimed the pudgy, moon-faced guy breathlessly, his round gray eyes wide. “Sorry, Callie.”
“That’s okay, George.” Callie bit back a groan. It just wasn’t her day. George Wheeler was about the last person she wanted to have to deal with that day.
Of course, he’s the last person I want to see pretty much any day, she thought ruefully, forcing a bland smile onto her face. George was in her class at school, and he’d had a serious crush on her for a couple of months now. Callie wasn’t interested in George romantically, and for a while she had been trying to convince herself that the two of them could be friends. He was smart and kind and one of the best riders at Pine Hollow, despite his decidedly unathletic appearance. But no matter how many times she’d reminded George that all she wanted was friendship, he still couldn’t quite seem to get it, and his lovesick puppy-dog act was making her uncomfortable. Finally she’d decided that something had to change, so just a couple of days earlier she’d told him that she was going to have to take a break from their friendship for a while. She was hoping that would give him a chance to think about what being friends really meant. If that didn’t work, she was going to have to figure out how to tell him that they couldn’t be friends at all.
Thinking about that, Callie nodded to George. “Hello,” she said politely, preparing to continue on past him.
But George was blocking most of the narrow hallway, and he didn’t seem inclined to move out of her way. He was gazing at her with a delighted smile stretching from one pink cheek to the other, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. “What are you up to this morning, Callie?” he asked cheerfully. “Going for a ride?”
Callie blinked, wondering if he could have forgotten their agreement already. No way, she told herself uncertainly. I made myself pretty clear. How could there be any mistake?
Still, judging by the way George was standing there grinning at her, he didn’t seem to remember their conversation at all. Callie cleared her throat, not quite sure what to do. Normally she didn’t have trouble handling people who were causing her problems. She’d always found that the direct approach worked just fine. But George was different. Somehow he managed to keep her just off balance enough to confuse her and make her wonder if she was somehow not getting her message across as well as she thought she was.
“Um …,” she began, with no idea what she was going to say next. Fortunately, she happened to glance over George’s shoulder and spot Stevie walking across the entryway. “Stevie!” she blurted out in relief.
Stevie looked over. Callie could almost see the wheels turning in her friend’s head as she took in the situation. A moment later, Stevie was hurrying toward her and George. “Callie!” she exclaimed cheerfully, pushing her way past George. “Excuse me,” she told him with an innocent smile. “I was just looking for Callie. I need to show her something. Come on, girl, this way.” She grabbed Callie’s hand and dragged her down the hall, past the tack room and the still-closed office door and straight into the ladies’ room.
Inside, Callie collapsed limply against the chipped ceramic sink. “Whew!” she exclaimed. “Thanks, Stevie. I owe you one.”
Stevie grinned. “You looked pretty desperate out there,” she said frankly. “So what’s going on? Don’t tell me George was proposing or something. Or was he just professing his undying love again by staring at you with that goofy look he gets—sort of the same one Belle gets when she sees me coming in with a handful of carrots?”
Callie smiled weakly. She didn’t particularly feel like talking about it. “Somet
hing like that,” she said. “So what’s new with you? Have you come up with any more brilliant ideas for the newspaper?”
“No,” Stevie replied with a slight frown. “But believe me, I’m thinking.” She turned and leaned against one of the other sinks, staring at herself in the ancient, slightly cloudy mirror. “It just kills me that I don’t get to cover the CARL fund-raiser. Oh!” She glanced over at Callie. “You’re going, aren’t you?”
Callie hadn’t actually thought much about it one way or the other. She had only vague memories of what the others had been discussing about CARL and the fund-raiser, but from what she did remember, it sounded like a good cause—one her parents would be happy to subsidize. “Sure,” she said with a shrug. “I guess. It’s not the kind of thing where I have to have a date, is it? Otherwise I guess I’m going to be stuck just going with Scott.”
She was only kidding, but a genuine expression of surprise and horror crossed Stevie’s face. “Oh,” Stevie said.
“Just joking,” Callie said, surprised at the reaction. “You have brothers—you know how it is. I’d rather go to a dance or whatever with the creature from the black lagoon than get stuck with Scott as my date.”
“I know,” Stevie said quickly. “Um, I was just thinking about something else.”
Something about Stevie’s expression made Callie think that there was more to this than she was admitting. “What?” she asked, a little worried. “Is it something to do with Scott?”
“Well …” Stevie paused, looking undecided. “I guess I might as well tell you. But you have to swear on your future horse’s life that you won’t breathe a word to anyone, okay?”
Callie couldn’t help being curious now. “What is it?”
Stevie took a deep breath. “It is about Scott,” she said somberly. “I think he likes me.”
“Of course he does,” Callie began with a shrug. “You know he thinks you’re—oh!” She broke off, suddenly realizing what Stevie was trying to say. “Really?” she said doubtfully. “What makes you think that?”
“A lot of things.” Stevie shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and leaned back against the sink. “Starting with the way he always seems to be at Pine Hollow lately, even though he doesn’t really ride.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s just …” Callie let her voice trail off, thinking a little harder about what Stevie had just said. “Now that you mention it, I’d sort of noticed that he was here a lot, too,” she said. “I mean, it made sense before, when I was still on crutches and needed to come every day for therapeutic riding. It wasn’t like I could walk home myself then.”
“But you could now,” Stevie said with a knowing nod. “So why is big brother still playing chauffeur?”
Callie shrugged, still not convinced that Stevie’s theory was right. She knew that Stevie wasn’t particularly sensitive, but she still didn’t want to scoff outright and hurt her feelings. After all, it’s not like it’s impossible that Scott could ever have the hots for someone like her, she thought, casting a quick, appraising glance at Stevie. Even with her thick dark blond hair pulled back in a messy, lopsided ponytail and her nice figure hidden in the folds of an enormous, shapeless wool sweater, Stevie still looked good. Maybe she’s not quite as—um—well groomed as most of Scott’s love interests, but it’s not an impossible thing at all. In fact, considering Scott’s history, the only surprising thing is that he hasn’t latched on to Stevie—or any of the other girls he hangs out with—before this.
“What?” Stevie demanded, leaning a little closer and staring Callie in the face. “What’s that weird expression about? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know,” Callie said hastily, not wanting to give Stevie the wrong impression. “I have no idea. As far as I know for sure, he thinks of you as a good friend—nothing more or less.”
“But?” Stevie prompted, obviously expecting more.
Callie hesitated. Now that they were on the subject, a few things were nagging at her. The constant presence at the stable, yes. But there was more, too. “Actually,” she said slowly, “Scott has been acting kind of, um …”
“What?”
“I don’t quite know how to describe it,” Callie replied, picking at a rusty spot on the edge of the sink. “But when Scott’s starting to get interested in someone new, he does sort of have this way about him. Like for instance, when he had a crush on this girl Jenna at our old school who was a really serious singer, he suddenly bought all these opera CDs and started listening to them all the time. Mom and Dad and I thought he was going insane until we realized that it was because of Jenna. He wanted to learn about opera because of her.”
Stevie nodded, looking triumphant and a little sick at the same time. “I knew it,” she said in a strangled voice. “Just like Alex wanted to learn to ride because of Lisa. And now, like Scott has practically moved into Pine Hollow to get close to me.”
“Maybe,” Callie said, still uncertain.
She thought back, trying to remember how Scott had acted the times she’d seen him and Stevie together. Usually when he liked a girl, it was pretty obvious. Again, now that Callie thought about it, she did seem to recall a certain dippy, dreamy expression creeping over her brother’s face now and then lately. But had it been directed at Stevie? Callie just wasn’t sure.
In any case, there was still one thing that was bothering her. “I don’t know what he’s up to,” she said. “But I do know one thing. Scott has never, ever tried to break up anyone’s relationship. He knows you and Phil have been together forever. There’s no way he’d try to get in the middle of that.”
“You think?” Stevie didn’t sound quite as convinced as Callie felt. But before Callie could answer, the bathroom door swung open, almost whacking Stevie in the shoulder.
“Oops!” exclaimed the younger girl Callie had spoken to outside the tack room earlier. “Sorry. We didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“No problem, May,” Stevie replied with a grin. “I didn’t need that shoulder anyway. I always carry a spare.”
Rachel Hart giggled. “I keep telling her to slow down,” she said, glancing at her friend reproachfully. “Max yelled at her in class about that just this week.”
May Grover—Callie had finally recalled her full name now that Stevie had greeted her—rolled her eyes and elbowed her friend in the ribs. Then she glanced at Callie. “Hey, by the way, if you’re still looking for Max, his interview person finally left.”
“Thanks!” Callie said, immediately forgetting all about her brother, Stevie’s worries, and everything else except her errand. She headed toward the door, which Rachel was still holding partway open. Sticking her head out, she glanced down the hall. George was nowhere in sight. “Coast is clear,” she told Stevie in relief, ignoring the younger girls’ curious gazes. “I’m out of here.”
“Good luck,” Stevie said.
Already halfway out the door, Callie responded with a wave. With any luck, she could still make it to her appointment on time—or at least come close.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Carole crooned, sticking her fingers through a cage door to scratch a large gray cat under its chin. “I know this smells kind of icky, but it will dry soon, I promise.”
The cat meowed and rubbed against the cage door, gazing at Carole reproachfully. Carole smiled and turned away, reaching for the paintbrush she’d left balanced on top of a can of paint. Craig Skippack, the head of Hometown Hope, had assigned her to paint Cat Room B that day. It was the smallest of the three cat rooms at CARL, and Carole was already nearly finished putting a fresh coat of pale green paint on the long concrete wall facing the rows of cages. Unlike the dogs, the cats didn’t have outdoor runs, which meant that there was really nowhere to put them during the painting. But one of the volunteer vets had assured Carole that as long as she left the doors and the three high, narrow windows open, the cats would be just fine.
“Anyway, just think how nice this will look when I’m done,” Carole said
brightly. Talking to the cats distracted her a little from thinking about Cam, and that made it easier to focus on what she was doing instead of obsessing over what it would be like to see him again. Or thinking about that comment he’d made about her being cute.
I don’t know why I should be so nervous, anyway, she thought as she stepped over to the open can of paint to dip her brush in. Cam is an old friend. I wouldn’t be feeling this way if I were meeting my old friend Karenna today, would I? Or Christine Lonetree. Or Ali Lemmer, my best friend from kindergarten.
“Almost finished here,” she told the closest cat, a sinuous snow white female with bright green eyes. “I just have to put a coat on this trim, and then all that’s left is to wait for it to dry. By the time you finish your next catnap, the whole room will look brand-new.”
“Well, I can see that some things never change. You’re still talking to animals.”
Carole gasped and spun around. “Cam!” she exclaimed. “You’re here!” Fearing that she’d lost track of time, she checked her watch. “And you’re early.”
“Sorry.” Cam smiled and stepped forward. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”
Carole blushed, feeling flustered and unprepared. She had planned to take a quick trip to the ladies’ room and freshen up a little, maybe even rebraid her hair, before he arrived. Now she could only imagine how many paint spatters and streaks of dirt were decorating her face at the moment. The thought distracted her and made her blush deeper.
“Well?” Cam said expectantly, taking another step toward her. If he noticed that she was totally tonguetied and befuddled, he was doing a good job of hiding it. “Don’t I even get a hug?”
“Um, of course,” Carole said, one hand straying to her cheek, where something seemed to be crusted and flaking. Trying not to think about that, she opened her arms as he bent down to hug her, a spicy smell—aftershave?—enveloping her along with his arms. After a moment they both stepped back. For the first time, Carole really looked at Cam. He had always been cute, with his mocha-colored skin and clear brown eyes fringed with dark lashes. But now that he was all grown up, all the soft, rounded corners of his face had matured into chiseled features that made him much more handsome than cute. He had always been tall, and his shoulders had finally caught up with his height, broadening just enough to give him the look of an athlete.
High Stakes Page 5