“Thanks,” Stevie said breathlessly. “It felt good. Belle is really on today.”
Carole grimaced. “I wish I could say the same about Ditto,” she grumbled. “He hasn’t been on since I’ve known him.”
Stevie gave her a sympathetic look. Then she glanced over to where Piper was getting ready to begin her round on Tapestry. “This should be good,” Stevie predicted.
And she was right. Tapestry performed beautifully, hardly taking a wrong step. On her back, Piper sat upright and still. Her aids—the signals she used to tell the horse what to do—were almost completely invisible, just as they should be for dressage.
When the pair finished, Stevie let out a quiet whistle of appreciation. “That was fantastic,” she said.
“No kidding. They made it look so easy,” Carole said.
“That’s what they’re supposed to do,” Stevie reminded her.
Carole sighed. “I know,” she said, as Ditto shifted beneath her. She tightened up on the reins to prevent him from taking another step. “But right now this test seems anything but easy to me.”
The instructor called Carole last. “Wish me luck,” she told Stevie grimly.
“Good luck,” Stevie said. “Or maybe I should say, ‘Break a leg,’ ”
“If only,” Carole said, only half joking. “If Ditto really did break his leg, at least I wouldn’t have to ride him anymore.” She rode to the starting point.
The test was a complete disaster from the beginning. Despite Carole’s signal, Ditto started off on the wrong lead, and it was all downhill from there. He veered off course on the center straightaway, refused to heed her signal to turn into a figure eight until they were nearly at the far end of the ring, and slowed to a walk when he was supposed to move into a canter. By the end of the exercise, Carole was fuming. She slid off the horse’s back as soon as the instructor dismissed the class and led him inside without a word.
“Hey, wait up,” Stevie called after her. She and Belle caught up to Carole and Ditto just as they entered the stable. “Where are you going? We have a trail class now, remember?”
“I’m not going,” Carole said. “I’ve had it with this horse.” She gestured at Ditto, who was pulling at his lead, eager to get back to his stall and his feed trough.
“What do you mean?” Stevie asked.
“I mean I can’t take it anymore,” Carole said. “Ditto and I just don’t get along. I’m going to ask Barry to switch me to another horse.” Her pride in her riding had its limit, and she had reached it today.
Stevie looked dubious. “Do you really think he’ll do that?” she asked. “He hasn’t been exactly helpful lately.” As she had promised Lisa, Stevie had tried to talk to Barry about the cabin situation earlier in the week, but she hadn’t had any more luck than her friends had. “Why don’t we have a Saddle Club meeting at lunch? Maybe we can figure out something else you can try.” Lisa wasn’t in their dressage or trail classes, so lunch would be the first chance they would have to talk with her.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Carole said stubbornly. “I’ve already decided what to do. I don’t want to be stuck on this uncooperative horse for another whole week.”
Carole said good-bye to Stevie, then untacked and groomed Ditto quickly. She refilled his bucket with clean water and cleaned his tack. She would never consider taking less than perfect care of any horse, even if this particular one wasn’t exactly her favorite.
Finally everything was done. Carole hurried to the rec hall. Barry wasn’t in his office, and his assistant had no idea where he was. Carole had to search half the camp before she finally found him in the grain shed. He had a calculator in his hand and a worried look on his face.
Carole didn’t pay attention to either one. “Barry, I’ve got a big problem,” she announced.
“What is it, Carole?” he asked absently, punching some numbers into the calculator and then making a note on a piece of paper.
“It’s Ditto,” she said. “He’s still not working out. I’ve been trying and trying to get him to listen to me, but I haven’t had any luck at all. We just aren’t suited to each other. I’d like to try a different horse for the rest of the time before my horse gets here.”
Barry looked up. “What was that?”
Carole repeated her request.
“I see,” Barry said. “I’m sorry, Carole, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with Ditto. We don’t have any extra horses to put you on. Every available horse in the entire camp is already in use. Ditto was actually our spare—that’s why you ended up on him when you decided not to bring your horse along. If you still want to switch after the second week, we’ll have some free mounts when some of the campers leave.” He glanced down at his calculator again and hit another button.
Carole frowned. “I won’t need one then,” she reminded Barry. “My horse is coming next Saturday, remember?”
“Oh, yes,” Barry said, still looking at the calculator. Carole could tell he wasn’t really listening to her.
She sighed with frustration. “Well, thanks anyway,” she said. It came out sounding a little more sarcastic than she had intended.
But Barry didn’t seem to notice. “Mmm hmm,” he said. He appeared to be counting the feed bags stacked in the shed. “Anytime.”
Carole left him and wandered across the field toward the mess hall. She was a little early for lunch, but she figured she could just sit and wait. If anything would make her feel better, it was a pep talk from her friends.
Stevie found her at their usual table twenty minutes later. “Hi,” she said. “Any luck with Barry?”
“No,” Carole replied with a sigh. “I’ll tell you the whole story as soon as Lisa gets here.”
“She’s not coming,” Stevie said.
Carole looked surprised. “Don’t tell me she’s too engrossed in Lord of the Flies to stop and eat?” That was the latest book Lisa was reading. She had brought it to breakfast with her and been so busy reading that she had hardly touched her eggs and toast.
“Not this time,” Stevie said. “She and Piper are going to use the time to work on their dance routine for the talent show.” The other day at dinner, Lisa and Piper had told them all about their plans. “She said something about a problem with the finale. I guess they’re still ironing out the choreography.”
Carole shook her head. “I don’t know how they do it,” she said, picking up her turkey sandwich. “Even after skipping trail class, I’m totally ravenous. No wonder Piper is so thin.”
But Stevie was thinking about something else. “Speaking of the talent show,” she said, “we’ve got to come up with an act soon.” Stevie, Carole, and the other girls in their cabin had been discussing ideas all week. But so far nobody had come up with anything good, not even Stevie.
“I know,” Carole said. “We only have a little over a week to rehearse as it is. Maybe we should have another cabin meeting tonight before lights-out.”
“Good idea,” Stevie said with a deep sigh. “I was hoping to invite Phil to go for a romantic stroll, but I haven’t even seen him all day.”
Carole nodded sympathetically. “Tonight it is, then. We’ll find the others and tell them after we eat.”
Stevie took a sip of her water. “Now that that’s settled, tell me about your meeting with Barry.”
MEANWHILE, IN CABIN SIX, Lisa was waiting for Piper to arrive for their rehearsal. While she waited, she reread part of the letter she had received that day. It was from her mother, and it was full of all sorts of chatty news and gossip about things that were happening at home and in Willow Creek. But it was the last paragraph that Lisa kept returning to:
You’ll never guess who I met the other day, dear. Do you remember Mrs. Parrish, who used to baby-sit you when you were younger? Well, her daughter Susan just moved back to town. Susan’s a licensed teen counselor, and I was telling her about your little problem with your report card. She thinks it might help if you came in and spoke with her when you get back from camp.
What do you think about that? It’s up to you, dear. But Susan Parrish is really very nice, and I think it might be good for you to …
Lisa crumpled the letter angrily in her hand. She couldn’t believe her mother was blabbing her personal problems all over town. If Lisa wanted everyone in Willow Creek to know about her bad grade, she would have taken out an ad in the paper. Besides, what did her mother think she could possibly have to talk about with a teen counselor, whatever that was? She hadn’t studied hard enough, so she had gotten a low grade. End of discussion.
Just then Piper came in. “Ready to get started?” she asked.
Lisa tossed the crumpled letter into her cubby. “Ready when you are.”
“Good,” Piper said. “I was thinking about the finale during classes this morning, and I think I came up with something that might work. Can you do a split?”
“Hmmm?” Lisa said absently. She was still thinking about the letter. Was a counselor the same thing as a psychologist? Did her mother think she was crazy for getting such a low grade for no good reason?
“A split,” Piper said. “Can you do one?” She paused, waiting for a reply. “Earth to Lisa!”
Lisa looked up, her face turning red. “Oh, sorry, Piper,” she said quickly. “I—I guess I was thinking about something else.” She hesitated, then added, “Actually, it was something my mother said in her last letter.”
“What’s the matter?” Piper asked, sitting down on the bunk next to her. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Lisa hesitated again. She did want to talk about it, but Piper was so perfect. Would she be able to understand Lisa’s problems?
“Don’t worry, I know how mothers can be sometimes,” Piper added, rolling her eyes. “Mine can be a real pain.”
“Really?” Lisa said, relieved. Without further ado, she poured out the whole story.
When she finished, Piper was nodding. “Your mother says you’re nuts because you’re upset about that grade. But I bet she’s really more upset about it than you are,” she said. “Believe me, I know exactly how you feel. My mom is just the same way. But I don’t let it bother me anymore.”
“But how?” Lisa asked. “I mean, she is my mother …”
“It doesn’t matter,” Piper said. “Mother, father, stranger, it doesn’t matter. I can tell you’re a lot like me, Lisa. When you do something, you like to do it right. But not everybody understands people like us.,”
Lisa nodded. She remembered her friends’ reaction to her B+. “I know what you mean.”
“You can’t let other people’s stupid opinions get in your way,” Piper went on, taking Lisa’s hand in her own and squeezing it. “Most of the time when they criticize you or laugh at you, it just means they’re jealous. They don’t understand why you’re pushing yourself so hard, because they don’t know how good it feels when you do something you’ve set out to do, and do it really well. If you let their comments bother you, that means they’ve won.” She paused for a moment, and a sad look passed over her face. “It hasn’t always been easy for me to remember that. But whenever I’ve given in to them, I’ve always been able to pull myself together again and try even harder.”
Lisa was amazed. Piper seemed to know exactly how Lisa felt. She seemed to understand how important it was for Lisa to be the best—to strive for perfection in everything she did. But that made sense. After all, Piper herself was practically perfect. Lisa wondered what had made the other girl look so sad, but she didn’t want to pry. Piper would tell her if she wanted to.
The two girls went outside and found a clear, even section of the path. As they did a few stretches and then started to try out parts of their dance number, Lisa couldn’t help admiring the way Piper moved. The older girl’s long, slender limbs moved with grace and power, never hesitating or failing. Lisa did her best to imitate her, and by the end of their rehearsal she was feeling pretty good. She wasn’t as perfect as Piper yet, but after their talk she had new hope. All it took was hard work, and Lisa was good at that.
THE NEXT MORNING at breakfast, Stevie and Carole were still talking about the previous evening’s cabin meeting.
“I can’t believe Helen really wanted to put on a historical drama about the sinking of the Titanic,” Stevie said, referring to one of their cabin mates.
“I know,” Carole speared a sausage with her fork. “But at least that idea wasn’t as ridiculous as Bev’s. Who would have guessed she was a baton twirler?”
Lisa laughed. “You should have done what Piper and I did,” she said. “Just decided what you wanted to do and told them.”
“Maybe you two could come over and set our cabin mates straight,” Carole said. “Where is Piper this morning, anyway?” The older girl sometimes sat with The Saddle Club for meals.
“She’s working on figure eights with Tapestry,” Lisa said. Thinking about Piper’s dedication made her feel a little guilty. She set down her cereal spoon. She really should be working on her reading or her riding rather than wasting all this time sitting around chatting with her friends.
“The problem isn’t telling our cabin what we want to do,” Stevie reminded Carole. “It’s coming up with something we want to do.” She sighed. “And I can’t think of a thing.”
Before the discussion could go any further, Barry stood up and waved his arms for attention.
“I wonder if he has something exciting planned for today,” Stevie whispered eagerly as the mess hall quieted down. “It is Saturday, you know.” In previous years, Barry had always planned something special for the end of the first week of camp. One year it had been a trip to a local horse show; another time, a day trip to a nearby breeding farm. During The Saddle Club’s first visit to Moose Hill, the big event had been an overnight trail ride.
“I hope so,” Carole said. “I could use a break from classes.” And from Ditto, she thought, though she didn’t say it.
Sure enough, Barry’s announcement was about this year’s first-Saturday-of-camp event. “This time we thought we’d do something a little different,” he announced. “After lunch, I’d like everyone to gather in the meadow for a good old-fashioned picnic. There will be games and prizes, and for dinner we’ll have a cookout over a roaring campfire, with all the hamburgers, hot dogs, and potato chips you can eat.”
It all sounded like fun to The Saddle Club. Stevie raised her hand. “Will there be horseback games, or just regular people games?” she asked when Barry pointed to her.
Barry smiled. “Good question. We’ll have games of both the two-footed and four-footed variety.”
“Shouldn’t that be six-footed?” Stevie called out.
Amid the laughter that greeted Stevie’s remark, Carole overheard the girl sitting at the next table complaining to her friend.
“You’d think with all the money our parents are paying they could come up with something better than a stupid picnic,” the girl said. “What a cheap treat.” Her friend nodded.
Carole frowned. It was obvious that some people weren’t in the proper camp spirit. But she wasn’t going to let a couple of party poopers spoil her fun. There was nothing she loved more than horseback games. Then she remembered that she would be riding Ditto rather than Starlight. With that thought, her frown deepened.
AFTER MORNING CLASSES and a quick lunch in the mess hall, the campers gathered in the meadow. It was a perfect summer day, breezy and warm, with hardly a cloud in the sky.
Before starting the games, Barry announced that in addition to the small ribbons to be awarded for each game, there would be two grand prizes handed out at the end of the afternoon. One would go to the two-footed champion, the camper who had won the most ribbons in the non-riding games. The other, naturally, would go to the four-footed champion—though Stevie continued to insist that six-footed champion would be a more accurate term. Barry promised that if Stevie won, he would personally change the wording on the ribbon for her.
Then the fun began. The campers were kept busy running from game to game. F
irst came the two-footed games: a sack race, a three-legged race, a water balloon toss, a wheelbarrow race, and others. Before long each member of The Saddle Club had several small, colorful ribbons pinned to her shirt.
The only thing that kept Stevie from enjoying herself completely was Phil. At the beginning of the day she had assumed that this would be their chance to finally spend some quality time together. But somehow they never seemed to be in the same spot at the same time. And every time the counselors announced a pairs game, Phil and Todd ended up together, and Stevie was left to be partners with Carole or Lisa or one of the other girls in her cabin.
A whole week of camp had already passed, and none of Stevie’s romantic plans had worked out. She knew that Phil was as busy as everybody else. And she knew that he wanted to make friends with the boys in his cabin. But still, she couldn’t help thinking that he could have made a little bit of time to be with her if he really wanted to. That raised one big question in her mind: Did he really want to spend time with her?
About a dozen campers, including Carole and Phil, were lining up for the first heat of a somersault race when Stevie found Lisa sitting on the sidelines watching. She sat down beside her on the sun-warmed grass.
“Hi,” Stevie said. “Having fun?”
Lisa pointed to the ribbons fluttering on her chest. “Three firsts, a second, and two thirds so far,” she announced proudly. “At this rate I’ll have the two-footed championship all sewn up.”
“Don’t count on it,” Stevie said with a grin, glancing down at her own T-shirt, which was crowded with almost as many ribbons as Lisa’s. “I’m still in the running, you know.”
Just then the starter’s pistol fired, and the two girls watched as Carole and the others tumbled their way toward the finish line. Carole came in second. Phil, who had collided with another boy halfway through, was ninth.
“I’m in the next heat,” Lisa said, standing up. “I’d better get up there. I want to get a starting position on the outside so there’s less chance of anyone running into me and messing me up.”
Summer Horse Page 6