Trail Mates

by Bonnie Bryant

  As she stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, Stevie’s chauffeur swept the door open in front of her, and, at the same time, unburdened her of all the packages she was carrying. He also held her toy poodle by the leash.

  “And you know what else models do—a lot of traveling,” Stevie said.

  “You mean like to Europe and Asia and Africa …”

  Lisa looked out the window at the sky streaked pink by the setting sun. Nine o’clock at home meant two o’clock in the morning in Monte Carlo. She was driving back to her hotel from the casino in a red two-seater sports car. The top was down. The moonlight gleamed on the Mediterranean below, sparkling across the warm waters where only this afternoon she had been swimming with the duke.

  “And we’ll learn all about makeup and fashions,” Stevie said, breaking into Lisa’s daydream.

  “And we’ll be friends, no matter what happens!” Lisa vowed. “I mean even if I get more and better jobs than you do—”

  “What makes you think you will?” Stevie asked. “Jackie told me she thought I’d be just perfect for this job. I’m sure I will be for lots of others, too.”

  “Funny, that’s the same thing she said to me. I just didn’t know she’d said it to you, too. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “How could you hurt my feelings when we’re going to be the first two girls from Willow Creek, Virginia, to appear on the cover of Vogue together!”

  “And we’ll have to go to Paris for the shoot, won’t we?” Lisa had already picked up some of the language of photography. She really liked using the word “shoot.”

  So did Stevie.

  “Definitely Paris for the Vogue shoot, but I guess it’s plain old Willow Creek for the Young Rider’s catalog.”

  “It’s just a start,” Lisa reminded her. “We have to begin someplace. As long as we stick together, we’ll be fine, too.”

  “Uh, Lisa,” Stevie said. “About Carole …”

  “Yeah, I know,” Lisa said.

  “I asked Jackie.”

  “So did I,” Lisa said. “And she told me you’d already asked her.”

  “Yeah. I told her that she was missing out on the best rider in the school. At first, she thought I meant Veronica, but I explained about Carole.”

  “I know. But she told me she could only afford two of us to work for the catalog.”

  All of the fun dreams disappeared. “It doesn’t seem right,” Stevie said. “She should be in on the fun, too.”

  “We can invite her along to Monte Carlo,” Lisa said.

  “Monte Carlo?” asked Stevie.

  “I guess I was daydreaming,” Lisa confessed. “I was imagining a moonlit beach and sparkling water and this neat red sports car …”

  “And a gorgeous guy?”

  “Well …” Both girls giggled.

  “But what about Carole?”

  “We’ve got to tell her,” Lisa said.

  “Of course we do, but telling isn’t enough. After all, she just spent an entire day mucking out stalls with a guy who collects matchbook covers, and you and I are talking about modeling in Paris. Not only do we have to tell her, but we have to make it up to her!”

  “Sure, but how?” Lisa asked.

  “I don’t know,” Stevie said. “But I’ll think of something.”

  “I hope whatever you think of works better than your last brainstorm,” Lisa said.

  “It will,” Stevie assured her. “I promise.”

  “I’ve got to go,” Lisa said hastily. “My mom’s coming upstairs and I’m supposed to be doing my summer reading. See you on Saturday!”

  “Okay, bye,” Stevie said. She cradled the phone and leaned back against the soft pillows. She looked up at the ceiling. The shadows cast by her lampshade looked like a map. A map of the world. Hong Kong, Tokyo, Buenos Aires, Nepal, Amsterdam, Calcutta, Sydney. Images of exotic places danced before her eyes, places she had never dreamed of going before, places she had barely even heard of! Her heart beat fast with excitement.

  But there was something wrong. And she knew what it was: What would they say to Carole?

  “DID YOU BRING the makeup?” Stevie asked Lisa eagerly when they met at the stable’s locker room on Saturday morning.

  “Makeup, what’s that?” Lisa asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “It’s too early in the morning to remember anything.”

  It was, in fact, six-thirty in the morning. Jackie had told the girls to be at Pine Hollow and ready to begin the shoot by seven. The morning sun was the best for photography, and anyway, it was going to be awfully hot by noon.

  “Makeup,” Stevie repeated. “If we’re going to show ourselves off to our best advantage, we’ve got to be wearing makeup. You promised you’d bring it.”

  “Of course I brought it,” Lisa said, hefting a large case to the bench. “After all, you only called me about it three times.”

  “Well, my mother hardly ever wears it, so I didn’t know what I might be able to borrow from her. But your mother—”

  “My mother wouldn’t be seen in public without perfectly applied makeup,” Lisa finished for her. Lisa’s mother believed that what other people thought of her was Very Important. “I think the mailman once delivered something before she’d put on her makeup. She hasn’t been able to face him since!”

  “Very funny,” Stevie said. “By the way, I tried to call Carole, but I chickened out!”

  “Me, too,” Lisa admitted with a sheepish smile as Stevie snapped open Lisa’s case, which held a large variety of creams, pencils, and powders.

  “What are we supposed to do with this stuff?” Stevie asked, suddenly overwhelmed.

  Lisa’s eyes lit with mischief. “We are supposed to transform ourselves into international beauties!”

  “Well, then, let’s not waste a minute,” Stevie said, giggling. She reached for a bottle and opened it. “What’s this for?” she asked suspiciously, sniffing at the white cream. It smelled nice enough, but it didn’t look like it was going to transform her.

  “I think that’s wrinkle cream,” Lisa said.

  “I don’t need any wrinkles,” Stevie told her.

  “It’s to keep you from getting any, dummy.”

  “Oh. They’d be bad for a model, wouldn’t they? I’d better put some on.” She tilted the bottle until a gooey glob of wrinkle cream filled her palm. She smeared it on her face. “It’s really oily. Do I look better?”

  Lisa examined her friend’s face. “I think the long-term effect may be worth it, but for now, all that’s happened is that your face looks greasy.”

  “That’s what I was afraid you were going to say.” She grabbed a tissue and tried to wipe the stuff off. It only smeared it. “I’ll go wash it off,” she announced, standing up.

  While Stevie went into the bathroom to wash off the wrinkle cream, Lisa examined the possibilities in front of her. She applied some liquid makeup, but the results were streaks that made her look suspiciously like a circus clown. She wiped it off. She was carefully drawing light brown eyebrows on herself when Stevie reappeared.

  “It doesn’t come off.” Stevie was trying to sound calm, but Lisa could hear the panic in her voice.

  Lisa looked over her shoulder in the mirror and then spun around to look directly at her friend. Stevie’s face was as greasy as it had been before she washed it.

  “How am I ever going to be a glamorous fashion model with gooey guck on my face!” Stevie wailed.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something,” Lisa said quickly, trying to sound reassuring. “There must be something here.” She began digging through the jars and tubes in the case. “Magic wand? No, that’s for eyelashes. Here’s some nail-polish remover. That ought to do it.” She read the label. “Oops, that stuff’s poisonous. Creme de something-or-other. Sounds like a dessert—not a makeup remover.” Lisa giggled. “Skin buffer? I don’t know what it does, but if we buff you, you’re going to shine for months!”

  “Lisa!” Stevie wailed. “Do something!�
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  “I can’t,” Lisa announced. “There’s nothing here that says it’s going to remove that stuff from your face.”

  “I’ll never be able to be a model with this stuff on. And if I blow it on this job, I may never have another opportunity!”

  “Well, there could be a future for you modeling ski masks,” Lisa suggested.

  “Grrr,” Stevie said, and Lisa had the feeling she was seriously upset. “I’ll solve my own problem,” Stevie declared. She spun on her heel and left Lisa alone.

  Lisa regarded the remaining selection of makeup warily. She had thought putting on makeup would be fun, but it was turning out to be hazardous. It just wasn’t a job for amateurs. Besides, Jackie hadn’t said anything about it. In fact, Jackie had told both girls that they didn’t need to bring anything. She was going to supply them with everything required. That probably included makeup. Lisa hoped it included something to remove the greasy cream from Stevie’s face. She carefully replaced all of her mother’s cosmetics in the case and clicked it shut. It would be a couple of years before she was ready to tackle that task again—even if she did become a world-famous fashion model.

  Lisa heard Stevie’s footsteps behind her. She was afraid to look. She was afraid to ask.

  “It worked,” Stevie announced. Lisa turned around slowly. There stood Stevie, looking just like Stevie usually looked, pretty shoulder-length blond hair surrounding a nice oval face, which wasn’t covered with goo.

  “How’d you do it?” Lisa asked.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Stevie said with a mischievous grin. “But right now, Jackie’s here and it’s time to get to work.”

  “Good morning, girls!” Jackie Small called brightly from the stable door. “Are we ready?”

  “You bet we are!” they answered in chorus.

  Both Stevie and Lisa were practically shivering with excitement. They were on the brink of exotic new lives!

  A FEW HOURS after Stevie and Lisa had tried to transform themselves into glamorous models, Lynne Blessing was trying to transform Carole into something else. Carole found herself wishing she were back at Pine Hollow mucking out stables with Scott.

  Instead, she was at the mall with Lynne Blessing.

  Lynne had been nothing but nice, caring, and attentive since they had left Carole’s house. But still Carole wished she were anywhere but there. Maybe it was because Lynne was just trying too hard.

  “Oh, Carole!” Lynne gushed. “I just love those little roses, don’t you?”

  Carole looked at herself in the mirror in the store’s dressing room. What she saw dismayed her. She had never owned anything with little roses on it and she didn’t want to start now. The dress Lynne had selected for Carole to try on was made of pink chiffon over taffeta. It had a blousy top with a scalloped white collar, short sleeves, and a big white bow around the waist. A big red rose, matching the “little roses” in the fabric, emerged from the middle of the bow. The short sleeves had white cuffs.

  “I think I look like a Kewpie doll,” Carole said flatly. “It’s just really not me, Lynne.”

  “Oh, but it’s darling,” Lynne tried to reassure her. Carole was not convinced. Lynne had brought piles of dresses for Carole to try on and all of them were just plain wrong. Carole didn’t like frilly, lacy dresses. In fact, what Carole liked to wear were jeans, and Lynne hadn’t gotten within a quarter of a mile of the jeans stores at the mall. Besides, Carole couldn’t imagine where she would wear one of these frilly things.

  “These dresses are nice and all, but they’re really not the kind of thing I like to wear much,” Carole told Lynne as nicely as she could. She was trying very hard to be polite, but it wasn’t easy. Her father had absolutely made her come shopping with Lynne. Carole couldn’t remember the last time her father had put his foot down like that. She realized that for some reason, this was important to him. Since it was important to him, she was trying awfully hard to make it work.

  “I think I saw something else on the rack that you might like, then,” Lynne said. “You slip out of that and I’ll get that other one I saw. It’s just so pretty, Carole. Wait a sec, okay?”

  “Okay,” Carole said. The suspense was killing her. Violets, maybe, this time? Or just plain lace? Would it have the frilly stuff at the neck or at the hem? Carole stepped out of the number with the little roses, and awaited Lynne’s return.

  In a few minutes, Lynne knocked at the dressing room door. She was once again laden down with dresses. Carole couldn’t imagine how so many manufacturers could have gotten together to make so many ugly dresses at the same time. Actually, to be honest, a lot of them really weren’t ugly. It was just that they weren’t right for Carole.

  “Now here’s the new selection,” Lynne announced.

  “I think I already tried that one on,” Carole said, pointing to a pale purple creation she had despised. Lynne held up a yellow dress with a very frilly collar. “Looks like a clown collar,” Carole commented flatly.

  “I guess it does at that,” Lynne said, critically examining the dress. “I just don’t seem to be doing very well for you, Carole.” She looked so disappointed that Carole began to feel a little sorry for her. She didn’t want to hurt Lynne’s feelings, but she didn’t want to have to wear something with printed pastel flowers on it, either.

  “What’s that one?” Carole asked, tugging gently at some white cotton she spotted in the midst of the garden of dresses Lynne held.

  “I don’t know if it’s right, but I thought maybe …” Lynne said uncertainly.

  Carole quickly stowed most of Lynne’s latest choices on the “no” hook in the dressing room, and then held the white cotton up to herself. It was a plain dress compared to the others. It had a snug bodice with a V neck surrounded by an eyelet lace shawl collar. The straps were on the edge of the shoulders. The dress had a full skirt made of plain white cotton, with eyelet lace trim at the hem.

  “I think I’ll try this one on,” Carole said. Lynne’s face lit up with joy. Carole could tell that Lynne was happy to have found something Carole wanted to try on. Carole slipped the dress over her head and stood still in front of the mirror while Lynne zipped it up the back. In fact, Carole hated having somebody zip her dress for her, but Lynne seemed to need to do it, so Carole didn’t protest.

  When Lynne stood back, Carole examined her reflection. It wasn’t bad. The dress fit well, showing off her nice figure, but not too much. She twirled and the puffy skirt flared.

  “Not bad,” Carole said. She turned so that her back was to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. The neckline made a V in the back, matching the one in the front. It was kind of pretty.

  “Oh, I love it!” Lynne exclaimed. “You must have it. Okay, then, since that’s decided, why don’t you get back into your regular clothes and I’ll go pay for this, then we’ll stop at the coffee shop next to the shoe store and have a cup of tea, or whatever you’d like, before we buy you a pair of shoes to go with this? What fun we’ll have! I have a white clutch purse you could borrow if you’d like and you know what would look good? I have a luscious pink shawl you could kind of throw over your shoulders …”

  Carole shuddered.

  “CAN YOU LEAN back a little bit farther, Lisa?” Jackie asked.

  Lisa thought she was already leaning back so far that she must look very silly. She was grasping the edge of a saddle. The saddle was tilted over a saddle rack so that more than half the saddle would show at once. Lisa was practically lying on the ground.

  “I’m afraid I’ll get all dirty,” Lisa said.

  “That’s all right,” Jackie assured her, snapping away furiously. Then she said, “I think I’d better try to get another set of the same saddle without the sunlight gleaming on it. Can you turn the rack and get down on the other side?”

  Other side? That meant she was going to be completely out of view of the camera. She crawled up out of the dirt, turned the rack until Jackie said it was okay, and then slunk down in the dirt again, keeping
the saddle from falling forward while Jackie photographed it.

  “It’s a take!” Jackie said—the very words Lisa had been daydreaming about yesterday. But yesterday’s dreams had included wind in her hair—not dirt.

  “Now, girls,” Jackie said. “Let’s do those boots. Lisa, you do the jodhpur boots with the elastic ankle. Stevie, get the black pair of high boots.”

  “What else should we wear?” Stevie asked.

  “What you’ve got on is fine,” Jackie said.

  Stevie looked down. She was wearing her Washington Redskins T-shirt over her riding jeans. That would look very funny with the fancy riding boots. She and Lisa exchanged looks. Lisa was trying to brush the dirt from her blouse. It wasn’t coming off.

  “This is going to be a strange catalog,” Lisa whispered. “I never saw one with the models lying in the dirt behind the saddle before, did you?”

  “Nope,” Stevie agreed. “But she seems to know exactly what she wants, so let’s do it.”

  The girls and Jackie had been working in the hot sun in a small paddock behind the Pine Hollow barn all morning. Jackie had all of her equipment with her, including the clothes, saddles, bridles, boots, and hats to be photographed. Saturday was usually a very busy day at Pine Hollow, but they were out of the way of the weekend traffic. In fact, they hadn’t even seen Max or Red O’Malley since they had arrived.

  Stevie tried to put on the boots. She got her toe in okay, and then her heel, but she couldn’t pull them up at all. She looked at the label. No wonder. They were two sizes too small for her!

  “Jackie, I can’t get my feet into these things!” she called out of the dressing area.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jackie assured her casually.

  “It does to me,” Stevie said, rolling her eyes upward. She tugged harder. She found that she could get her toe into the foot of the boot, though of course, the boot looked silly with her jeans anyway, since it was meant to be worn with breeches. But if she stood on the balls of her feet, and if she held onto a wall or fence, she could walk. Like a duck. She waddled out into the photographic area.