“Yuck,” said Lisa.
“Much better,” Carole praised her. “Could you feel the difference?”
“I think so,” Lisa said, but she wasn’t sure. She tried several more times, but she never quite got it. Sometimes Barq would start to lengthen, but Lisa couldn’t get him to maintain his gait. He always whacked the last pole or two on the grid.
After they’d tried another half dozen times, Lisa pulled him to a halt. “That’s enough,” she said, giving Barq a pat. “I wish we’d done better, but I’m just going to upset him if we keep going. He’s doing his best. It’s me who’s not getting it.”
Carole also wished that Lisa had gotten it right. She rarely saw her friend so upset about her riding, and she sympathized. She wished Lisa had a horse.
Carole also thought Lisa was doing the right thing to stop before Barq became tired and cross. “You made good progress,” she said encouragingly. “He’ll get it next time.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Maybe. Want to go on a trail ride? I’ll walk Barq around out here while you get Starlight.” Carole readily agreed and hurried into the stable. Lisa watched her go with a strange mixture of affection and irritation. Carole was so kind and understanding. But Lisa still felt like a tagalong little sister, and the fact that she couldn’t get Barg to lengthen bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
Lisa sighed. She was learning about sibling rivalry, all right, but this wasn’t the way she would have chosen to learn.
STEVIE HEARD A soft tap on her bedroom door. “Go away!” she shouted. She yawned and stretched and turned the page of the book she was reading—National Velvet, for the three hundredth time.
Someone knocked again.
“Unless you’re bringing me a hot fudge sundae, go away!”
The door opened. “It’s me,” Chad said.
“I’m honored,” Stevie said, looking up briefly and going back to her book. “However, I have nothing whatsoever to say to you. Go away. And take that stupid soccer ball with you.”
Chad quit bouncing the ball. He came in and wandered around Stevie’s room. He picked up the model horses on her dresser and set them back down. He looked at her posters. He looked out the windows. He hummed to himself.
Stevie did her best to ignore him, but after a while it became impossible. “Are you deaf or stupid?” she asked. “I remember telling you to go away.”
“You don’t have to stay in your room all day,” Chad said. “You just have to stay in the house. You could come downstairs.”
“And hang out with you and Michael and Alex? No thanks. This is the one place where I’ve got my privacy.” She glared at her brother. “Or had my privacy. Or thought I had. I’m getting a lock put on my door. That way cretinous, slimy brothers can’t steal my riding boots in the middle of the night and—”
“Do you miss Belle?” Chad interrupted.
Stevie stared at him in amazement. He was even stupider than she’d thought. “Of course I miss Belle! You don’t have any idea!” She pointed to Chad’s soccer ball, now on her floor. “Imagine being separated from that ball of yours for two weeks, only imagine that the ball was alive, and happy to see you when you came to visit it. Imagine that you could ask it to do things and it would do them, and you could go places on it. Imagine that it was like a friend …” Stevie paused. “Oh, forget it. Unless you love horses, you’ll never really understand.” She lay back on her bed. “Now go away. You bug me.”
Chad went over and picked up one of her model horses again. “I guess if Belle’s like a friend, she probably misses you, too.”
Stevie snorted. “Of course she misses me.”
“Ummm-hmmm.” Chad wiped the dust off the horse’s nose. “I heard somewhere that horses pine,” he commented casually. “What happens when they do that?”
Stevie studied Chad’s back. He seemed entirely too casual to her. He was up to something. “Horses are social animals, see, and they make friendships that are really important to them. Like, if Starlight and Belle were stabled next to each other, they might become special buddies, even more so than they are already. Then if Belle moved away, Starlight would pine. He might not eat. He’d seem unhappy.”
Chad nodded. He set the horse down and scooped up his soccer ball. “Just wondering,” he said. When he was halfway out the door he paused, his hand on the frame. “Could horses pine for people, too?”
Stevie saw the hint of worry in Chad’s eyes. “Of course,” she said. “Horses pine for people even more than they pine for other horses. Now go away!”
MRS. LAKE SMILED at her four children all sitting quietly around the dinner table. “See what a pleasant meal it can be when no one argues?” she said. Stevie and her brothers exchanged glances. Since Stevie’s disgrace, Chad, Alex, and Michael had been on their best behavior. None of them wanted to be grounded. Stevie thought they were all fiends. As soon as her punishment was over, she was going to get them, and good! She was making a list in her bedroom of ways to get revenge, and she was already on her third sheet of paper—in small handwriting.
But Lisa and Carole were working on a plan, and Stevie wasn’t about to mess it up. She wiped her face with her napkin and set it carefully beside her plate. For another chance to go to camp, even she could behave for a week.
“Should I do the dishes?” she offered in a particularly well-behaved and pleasant voice.
“It’s Chad’s turn!” Stevie’s twin, Alex, protested. Stevie couldn’t help grinning. Alex was on her side in this one. Lately he hadn’t been getting along with Chad, either.
“Yes, it is Chad’s turn,” Mr. Lake said. “Thank you for offering, though. I agree,” he continued, turning to his wife, “this has been a remarkably pleasant meal. Maybe we should ground one or two of them all the time.” He chuckled.
Stevie groaned. It was just like her father to pick the worst possible time to find a sense of humor. Why hadn’t he been amused when Carole and the ladder had fallen into the pool?
The phone rang just as she was heading back upstairs. Her mother answered. “Oh, hi, Max!” Stevie heard her say. Stevie paused at the foot of the stairs. Why was Max calling? Surely Lisa and Carole had explained about her being grounded—and anyway, she’d made the note for Belle’s stall.
“Yes, okay,” her mother said. “I’ll tell her. Thank you, Max. Good-bye.” Mrs. Lake hung up the phone. “Stevie?” she called. “That was Max. He said to tell you that Judy’s coming out to look at Belle. He said you’d know about it—something about her mouth. It was a strange word he used. Is Belle having trouble eating? He said you’d understand.”
Chad had stopped rinsing dishes the moment he heard his mother say “Max.” He stood motionless while she relayed the message to Stevie.
“I understand, Mom,” Stevie said. “Thanks.”
Chad heard the stifled sob in her voice. Turning, he just managed to catch a glimpse of Stevie’s face—pale and scared—before she ran up the stairs.
CAROLE STOPPED OUTSIDE Starlight’s stall. “Good morning, you beautiful darling,” she said. Starlight lifted his muzzle from his manger of grain. Seeing Carole, he took a few steps toward her and thrust his nose into her hands. “No carrots right now,” Carole said, giving him a loving pat. Starlight didn’t look disappointed; he simply went back to his breakfast.
Carole looked around her happily. In every stall, every horse was nose-deep in breakfast, content. Down the aisle Red had just wheeled the feeding cart back into its position under the grain chute. He waved to Carole and began filling buckets with water. It was early Tuesday morning, and everything was as it should be. All the horses looked great—including Belle. Stevie’s mare looked as fresh as a summer flower. She poked her nose over her stall’s half door and whinnied at Carole.
“Good morning to you, too,” Carole said, laughing. “But you’ll have to act less happy than that, you silly horse, if you want Stevie to take you to camp.” Belle pricked her ears at the sound of Carole’s voice. Max always said hors
es couldn’t understand English. But that never stopped Carole from talking to them as if they could understand. She thought they liked to listen to friendly voices, just as they liked being groomed and fussed over.
“How does she look?” Lisa asked. Carole turned. Lisa was walking down the aisle holding a coffee mug carefully in her right hand. Over her left shoulder was a big canvas bag.
“Super,” Carole said.
Lisa snorted. “Today, that’s not necessarily good.”
Carole grinned. She knew Lisa didn’t mean she wanted Belle to be sick or unhappy. “If Belle’s like Stevie,” Carole said, “she’s got enough of a dramatic instinct that she’ll help us out.”
Lisa laughingly agreed. They’d both said many times that Stevie had found a horse just like her.
Carole took the cup of coffee from Lisa and sniffed it. “Ooh, it smells awful strong!” She made a face. “That’s wonderful! Where’d you get it?”
“My parents make a pot every morning. I just poured this cup once they went back upstairs to get dressed. They would have wondered if they’d seen me take some, since they know I’d never drink the stuff.”
Carole nodded. Her father drank coffee, too, but since he never wanted more than a cup or two at once, he rarely made it at home.
“Is Belle finished with her breakfast yet?” Lisa asked, peering into the stall. The mare was licking the corners of her grain bucket, but all her grain seemed to be gone.
“Looks like she has,” Carole answered. She set the coffee out of the way on a bench and took Belle out of her stall. While she gave Belle a quick grooming and picked the dirt out of her hooves, Lisa cleaned the stall.
“That’s sort of a waste of time, considering,” Lisa said as Carole picked up a body brush and started on Belle’s coat.
“I know,” Carole said, “but I can’t help it. Besides, at least this way we’ve checked her over well.” Lisa nodded. Carole brushed Belle’s body and started on her legs. Grooming was good for a horse’s coat and circulation, but it was also a great way to make sure the horse didn’t have any hidden cuts, bumps, or sores. Belle was fine, but Carole knew there was always a small chance that the horse had injured herself in her stall overnight. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Chad that, with horses, serious problems were sometimes caused by minor things.
However, there was no evidence that Belle was pining for Stevie, injured, or in any other way less than perfectly fine. Carole put the thoroughly clean horse back into her thoroughly clean stall. Lisa poured a cupful of grain into Belle’s empty bucket, and Carole poured the cold coffee over it. She mixed it in well.
Belle sniffed the grain curiously, then turned to the flake of hay on the floor by the door and began to eat that.
Carole gave a sigh of relief. “I was afraid she’d develop a taste for coffee overnight!” she joked.
“Nope,” Lisa said in a satisfied voice. “She still hates it.”
“Okay,” Carole said. “Now for step two. Give me that bag of dirt, and you go talk to Chad.”
LISA CHECKED HER WATCH as she approached Stevie’s house. It was early enough that Chad probably hadn’t left yet, but Stevie’s parents certainly had. Lisa rang the doorbell.
“Hey, Lisa!” Davey, the college student watching the young Lakes that summer, answered. Lisa noted with interest that he was starting to grow a tiny mustache. She liked Davey, but his mustache looked silly. He gave her an apologetic grin. “I know who you’re here to see,” he said. “Trust me, I completely sympathize, but I’m under strict orders not to let her have any visitors. I can give Stevie a message if you want.”
“Thanks,” Lisa said. “I’d like it if you’d tell her that Carole and I say hi. But I’m really here to see Chad.”
Davey arched his eyebrows in surprise but opened the door wider and nodded. Lisa came in and sat down. In a few minutes Chad sauntered into the room, still wearing his soccer jersey. Lisa wondered if he ever wore any other clothes. She hoped he at least changed his socks sometimes.
She swallowed her disdain and put on her best expression of heartfelt concern. “Oh, Chad!” she said, jumping up and squeezing his hand. “I’m so glad you’re home! We really need you!”
Chad yanked his hand back and looked wary. “Why?”
Lisa clasped her hands in front of her and let her dramatic silence speak for itself.
“It’s Stevie’s horse, isn’t it?” Chad asked, his eyes widening. “She’s still sick.”
“I’m afraid so,” Lisa said with an anguished sigh. “Carole and I are doing everything we can, but she’s not improving. In fact, she’s getting worse. We think she needs companionship. Someone to take her mind off Stevie.” Lisa gazed at him with what she hoped was an expression of sorrowful hope. “We need you to come sit with her for a while.”
“Okay,” Chad said, nodding.
Lisa stifled a shout of surprise. She couldn’t believe it had been that easy!
“I’ll come tonight, okay?”
“Oh. No, that won’t work,” Lisa said. She fought hard to think of an excuse. “See, Carole and I are staying with her, and so are some of Stevie’s other friends, but right now we’ve got something else to do and no one can fill in. We need you now. Right now,” she added.
Chad still looked concerned, but he frowned. “I can’t come now! I’ve got a game this morning!”
Lisa shrugged. “Well, okay, I understand,” she said, then gave a second small, sad shrug. “If one soccer game is more important to you than the life of your sister’s beloved horse … sure, I understand. How many games do you have each week, anyway? Four? Five?”
“Only three,” he answered. “Look, of course Belle is more important than a game—hey, I know, let’s get Alex to sit with her now. I can do it later. You can put me on your schedule.”
Lisa wondered if it would help if she started to cry. She decided it wouldn’t. She wasn’t sure she could cry convincingly anyway. She wasn’t that good an actress.
“I don’t think Alex would help her,” she said after a long pause. “He’s almost never been to the barn. He doesn’t understand horses at all. Horses can tell, you know, when people have empathy with them. You’re the only person in your family besides Stevie who does. Remember?”
She desperately hoped he would remember his riding lessons but forget that he’d taken them because he had a crush on her. “Chad,” she said beseechingly, “please.” She put out her hand. Chad took a cautious step backward, as if to keep her from touching him again, but Lisa had no intention of doing so. By now his unwashed jersey was probably crawling with germs. She shuddered. “Belle needs you, Chad,” she said. “She can’t have Stevie. You’re the next best thing.”
Chad stared at her for what seemed like a very long time. “Okay,” he said at last. “Wait here, and I’ll go call my coach. I guess I can give up one game for Stevie.”
“I know she’ll be grateful,” Lisa said.
“JUST SIT WITH HER for an hour or so,” Lisa said as she led Chad into the stable. “Carole and I have an errand to run, but we’ll be back just as soon as we possibly can.”
In Belle’s stall Carole was smoothing the last of the fine dirt Lisa had brought into Belle’s formerly glossy coat.
“How is she?” Lisa said. “Chad’s here, Carole. You were right. He does care.”
Carole looked up solemnly. “Thank you, Chad. I don’t know, Lisa. See how dull her coat is? And I’ve been brushing her, too.”
“So what if her coat’s dull?” asked Chad. He patted Belle’s nose a little uncertainly.
“It’s one of the sure signs of illness,” Carole informed him.
“Did she eat any grain?” Lisa asked anxiously, looking into the stall. What if Belle had!
Carole rattled the coffee-soaked grain in the bucket. “I’m afraid not.”
Lisa noticed that all Belle’s morning hay, however, was gone. The mare had made fast work of that—and with a full stomach, she wasn’t likely to work up
an appetite for her café au grain. Lisa let out a sigh of relief. “Well, there’s not much anyone can do,” she said. “But we’ll keep doing all we can. Chad, just sit with her.” They moved a hay bale next to Belle’s stall door.
“Be her friend,” Carole implored him. They walked sadly down the aisle and out of the stable, leaving Chad alone with the poor, sick horse.
CAROLE SLID INTO their favorite booth at TD’s, Willow Creek’s best ice cream parlor and a Saddle Club hangout. “It’s a little early for a sundae, don’t you think?”
Lisa thought hard before replying. “No. I don’t.”
Their usual waitress set water glasses down in front of them. “Where’s your partner in crime?” she asked them.
“Grounded,” Carole answered.
The waitress grinned. “She earned it, I’m sure.” She handed them menus and walked away.
Lisa stared after her. “What a thing to say!”
Carole was laughing. “She’s right, you know.”
“Still, she doesn’t have to be so bitter. It’s not like Stevie orders weird sundaes just to get on the waitress’s bad side.”
When they were deeply involved in the enjoyment of two hot fudge brownie sundaes, Carole said, “I think it’s working. I think this plan of yours is going to work.”
“Maybe,” Lisa said, scooping a pecan off the top of her ice cream. “The only catch is, we’re relying on him to have a conscience.”
Carole grinned. “He’s got one. I’m telling you, I’ve got this whole sibling thing figured out.”
Lisa grinned in return. She was beginning to feel that she, too, had the whole sibling thing figured out. The night before, it had occurred to her that she wouldn’t have been nearly as upset about her riding if Carole and Stevie had been having trouble, too. She had been competing with them whether she’d realized it or not.
“So,” Carole asked, “which horse are you going to ride in our lesson this afternoon? Will Max let you have Prancer?”
Lisa thought, not for the first time, that Carole must be able to read her mind. “Max said this morning that he’d let me have Prancer,” she said. “But I told him I’d rather ride Barq. I know that sounds strange,” she added hastily, before Carole could say anything, “but after all I am taking Prancer to camp, and Barq and I came so close yesterday that I just don’t want to give up with him until we get that exercise right.” She scooped up a bite of ice cream. “You think I’m silly, don’t you?” she asked. “When I could be riding the horse I love?”
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