Track Record

by Bonnie Bryant

  “What?” Callie felt her whole body tense with annoyance. “You turned him out? But I was going to ride him.”

  Maureen shrugged, not seeming the least bit remorseful about turning out Callie’s horse without permission. “He’s in the south pasture if you want to go get him.” She took another bite of her granola bar and glanced at her watch as she chewed and swallowed. “Better hurry if you want to get anything done before it’s time for his dinner.”

  Callie gritted her teeth, controlling her temper with effort. Yelling at Maureen wouldn’t accomplish anything. “Okay,” she said tightly. “Um, from now on I’ll let you know which days I won’t be riding, okay?”

  “Whatever.” Maureen popped the last bite of her granola bar into her mouth and brushed off her hands on her jeans. “Have a nice ride.”

  Callie headed outside and glanced past the schooling ring to the pastures beyond. The south pasture was the largest one at Pine Hollow. Callie estimated it to be at least twelve or fifteen acres, though just at the moment it seemed twice that size. About half a dozen horses were grazing at the far end, near the woods, and Callie could see Scooby’s distinctive spotted coat among them. The space between the gate and the horses looked very big, very open, and somehow dangerous.

  Dangerous? Callie thought, disgusted with herself. That’s crazy. All I have to do is walk out there, grab Scooby, and lead him in. Big whoop.

  Somehow, though, she couldn’t quite stomach the thought of making that long walk. An image from a nature program she’d seen recently popped into her head: A rabbit had been hopping along through just such a field when an enormous hawk had swooped down and sunk its claws into the rabbit’s helpless hide.

  Callie shuddered and turned away, hurrying back into the stable building. Never mind, she thought, trying to suppress the feeling that she was a total coward and a loser. Maureen was right. It’s too close to dinnertime anyway. I’ll just do a few chores and then head out.

  She headed for the tack room, intending to give her saddle a good cleaning. She’d been putting it off for a couple of weeks now, and even though she hadn’t been riding much, she didn’t want to let it go any longer. Entering the small, crowded, but flawlessly organized tack room, she grabbed saddle soap and a sponge and set them on the top of a wide, flat tack trunk near one of the freestanding saddle horses. As she was pulling her saddle down from its assigned rack, she heard footsteps and someone coming into the room behind her.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned, expecting to see Maureen. “George!” she gasped, so startled that the saddle almost slipped out of her grasp. She regained her hold just in time, clutching the large hunk of leather to her chest.

  “Hi, Callie!” George said cheerfully. “You’re not going riding now, are you? I saw Scooby out in the field.”

  Callie gulped, her head spinning. What was he doing here? She’d thought she was safe. “N-No,” she blurted out. “Uh, I was just—” She couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to finish the sentence.

  George glanced behind her, clearly noticing the cleaning equipment for the first time. “Oh!” he said, his small gray eyes lighting up. “Are you cleaning your tack? I’ll help you if you want.”

  George was standing in the doorway, blocking her exit, so Callie glanced frantically over at the second door in the room, which led into the office. “Um, no,” she said quickly. “I was just—uh—leaving.” Shoving her saddle back onto its rack, she darted for the office door, closing it behind her.

  Maureen was sitting at the office desk, her jacket on and her car keys in one hand as she scribbled a note on the calendar with the other. She glanced up at Callie in surprise. “Hi,” she said. “I thought you were going riding.”

  Callie couldn’t answer. She still couldn’t believe George was here. It shouldn’t be some huge surprise, she reminded herself, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. That car belongs to his mother—he must take the bus or whatever sometimes, right? Anyway, it’s probably just a coincidence that he’s here so late today. No big deal.

  “Gotta go,” she muttered, realizing that Maureen was still staring at her curiously.

  “Whatever,” she heard Maureen say behind her.

  Callie darted out of the office and down the hall to the women’s bathroom, not daring to look back to see if George was emerging from the tack room. She stayed in there for a good ten minutes, trying to calm down and convince herself that this was not a big deal.

  I can’t let George Wheeler run my life, she told herself firmly, staring into her own blue eyes in the mirror. No matter what mistakes I may have made in the beginning, this is getting ridiculous. I already asked him to stay away from me. And then I told him to stay away from me. He’s not staying away. So I guess I just have to deal with that somehow.

  She wasn’t sure how, short of begging her parents to move to another state, or at least changing schools and moving Scooby to another stable. But she really didn’t want to do that. She liked Fenton Hall, the private school she and Scott attended. And she loved Pine Hollow.

  So I’ll just have to adjust, I guess, she thought, feeling rather helpless. She didn’t like the feeling—she preferred being in control of her own life—but she didn’t see that she had much choice. It was a free country, and she certainly couldn’t stop George from talking to her, could she? It wasn’t just that the guy couldn’t take a hint, he was oblivious to a virtual two-by-four upside the head.

  Callie was starting to feel a little foolish about standing around in a cold, dimly lit bathroom worrying about whether or not someone would decide to speak to her again. Enough is enough, she thought, squaring her shoulders and heading for the door. She would just clean out her cubby and then call it a day.

  The student locker room was empty when she entered. She smiled with relief, then walked over and sat down in front of her square wooden cubby on the long bench that ran the length of the room. Her cubby was already fairly neat—Callie liked to keep things organized—but there were a few things she wanted to take home and wash. She dug out her navy schooling breeches and a T-shirt that a horse had slobbered on, then remembered that she’d also left a pair of muddy socks in there a couple of weeks earlier.

  “Where are they?” she muttered, leaning farther forward as she dug beneath a neat stack of clothing.

  “Did you lose something, Callie?”

  Callie jumped, almost banging her head on the top of the cubby. She spun around and saw George standing in the middle of the room. He had changed out of his riding boots into a pair of sneakers, and she hadn’t even heard him come in.

  “What do you want?” She realized her voice sounded nasty, but she didn’t care.

  George looked surprised. “I just came in to get my coat,” he said, hurrying toward his own cubby. “So what are you up to tonight? Heading home soon?”

  Callie hesitated. She was strangely reluctant to answer, and not just because it was none of George’s business. Her parents were out at another political event that evening, and Scott would be out on his date until late. Callie wasn’t relishing the thought of walking home through the cold, dark winter night. Or of entering her empty house and being there alone for hours. “I—I—” she stammered, wondering why she suddenly felt so nervous, almost fearful. She should just tell George to go away and leave her alone. Again. But she couldn’t quite manage it.

  “Axe you okay?” George took a step closer, peering at her intently. “Callie?”

  “I’m fine,” Callie replied, struggling to sound normal even as she took a step back, banging her calf into the bench behind her. “Fine. I—”

  “Hey, I thought I heard voices in here.”

  “Stevie!” Callie had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. “Hi! I didn’t know you were still here.”

  “Ditto.” Stevie glanced curiously at George. “Hey,” she said. “I thought you took off a while ago.”

  George shrugged and smiled. “I came back. Um, but I’d better get going now. S
ee you.” He hurried out of the room, pulling on his coat as he went.

  Stevie blinked and stared after him. “What’s with him?” she asked as she leaned over and dragged her winter jacket out of her own messy cubby. “I hope he’s not getting sick of all my questions about eventing already.” She winked at Callie. “Because I’ve got about a million more of’em.”

  Callie returned her smile weakly. “I don’t know.” She felt a little better now that George had gone. But soon Stevie would go, too. And then what? Callie couldn’t hang around Pine Hollow all night, especially since George was liable to pop up again just when she thought she was safe. And as much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she was feeling a little spooked about returning to her empty house—especially whenever she thought about glimpsing that pale, round face pressed up against the window. “Um, so what are you up to tonight?” she asked Stevie, stalling for time.

  “My parents are going to dinner and a play tonight, and it’s Alex’s turn to cook, which means TV-dinner time.” Stevie wrinkled her nose. Then her eyes lit up and she grinned. “So how about it? Want to grab a burger or something?”

  “Absolutely,” Callie said immediately. “In fact, that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never been here before,” Stevie commented, dipping a french fry into the blob of ketchup on her plate. “Everybody knows the Creekside Grill has the best burgers in town.”

  Stevie was in a good mood. It had been an interesting day at the stable, and she was at one of her favorite restaurants. Just about the only thing keeping her from being totally happy was the knowledge that there were only two more days before school started again. It seemed unfair, especially when she was just getting into the swing of her new eventing training.

  Callie swallowed a bite of her burger. “The food is good,” she said, glancing around the casual wood-paneled restaurant and wiping her chin. “I guess this just isn’t the kind of place where Dad usually entertains his big-money campaign contributors or holds press conferences,” she said teasingly.

  Stevie grinned. “Anyway,” she said, “like I was saying, I was kind of worried about whether Belle would be up for something like this. She’s not really bred for jumping, you know? But George says—” Was it her imagination, or did Callie wince slightly at the mention of George’s name? Stevie had noticed it once or twice already since they’d left the stable half an hour earlier. She cleared her throat and continued. “George says it won’t matter much at the beginning levels. It’s not like we’ll be facing any huge fences to start with.”

  “That makes sense.” Callie stared at the plate in front of her, her expression neutral.

  Stevie forgot about Callie’s reaction as she thought about her plans. “Anyway, we should be okay with the dressage part—I haven’t been schooling as much as I should lately, but the tests will be a lot easier than the ones we’re used to from dressage shows and stuff anyhow. So it’s mostly the jumping we’ve got to focus on, especially the cross-country jumping. I haven’t really done much of that for a long time, and Belle hasn’t done much more than hop a few logs on the trail. But George promised to give us some pointers.”

  “That’s good.”

  This time Stevie couldn’t help noticing that Callie had cringed slightly at George’s name. She frowned. Callie had been having a difficult time with George because of his hopeless crush and everything—Stevie knew that well enough—but she hadn’t realized it was quite this bad. Was Callie so sensitive about what had happened that she couldn’t even stand the sound of George’s name? Was Stevie going to have to be careful never to mention her new eventing consultant in Callie’s presence? She didn’t like the thought of having to censor herself like that.

  Not exactly the most relaxing way to have a conversation, she thought ruefully. Still, Callie’s my friend—if she needs a little longer to get over this, I’ve got to remember to make the effort. She just hoped she could manage it. When she was excited about something, like she was now about eventing, she tended to sort of forget about everything else.

  “Anyway,” she said, swishing another french fry through the ketchup, “the first thing I need to do is make sure Belle’s in good shape so we can start some refresher jumping training.”

  As Callie started to answer, saying something about conditioning, Stevie happened to glance in the direction of the door. To her surprise, she saw a familiar pudgy figure entering. “Hey!” she blurted out. “Yo, George!” She waved, then winced. Oops.

  George spotted them immediately, his apple-cheeked face stretching into a big smile. Returning Stevie’s wave, he hurried toward their table.

  Callie stared fixedly at the table in front of her. Her face looked strangely pale.

  “Sorry,” Stevie said quietly, smiling apologetically and feeling guilty. “Guess I should’ve kept quiet, huh?”

  George reached them before Callie could respond. “Hi, you two!” he said, beaming at them cheerfully. “Fancy meeting you here. It’s a small world.”

  “It’s a small town,” Stevie corrected him.

  George glanced at her half-eaten burger. “Wow, that looks good,” he said. “I’m starved. Mind if I join you?”

  “Um …” Stevie shot another quick look at Callie. Part of her was tempted to just agree. She really did have a ton of questions for George, and this would be the perfect opportunity to pick his brain.

  But the thought barely crossed her mind before she knew she couldn’t do it. It’s not like I’m never allowed to speak to George again just because I’m friends with Callie, she told herself. But that doesn’t mean I should invite him to sit down and eat with us.

  “Sorry,” she told George, who was already pulling out a chair. “This is sort of a private dinner tonight. You know—girl stuff. Maybe another time, okay?”

  “Oh!” George looked startled. His cheeks turned pink, and he glanced quickly from Stevie to Callie and back again. “Um, that’s okay. I understand.”

  He scurried away, disappearing through the door a moment later. Stevie watched him go, feeling bad about hurting his feelings. Oh well, she thought. What choice did I have?

  She turned back to face Callie, who was still staring at the table. “So I guess this means things still aren’t going well with you two,” Stevie said bluntly. “What’s the latest?”

  Callie shrugged. “There is no latest,” she said quickly, barely meeting Stevie’s gaze before her eyes skittered away toward the door. “No big deal. I just didn’t feel like putting up with him tonight, that’s all.”

  “Really?” Stevie couldn’t help feeling a little skeptical. She and Callie hadn’t been friends for all that long, but she thought she knew her pretty well. And she had the funniest feeling that there was more to the story than Callie was telling her.

  This time Callie met her gaze full on. “Really,” she said firmly. “Let’s just drop it, okay?”

  Stevie shrugged. “Okay.” But she wasn’t sure she meant that. Something didn’t seem okay about the whole situation at all.

  SIX

  “How’s your pasta?” Scott asked, leaning forward and smiling at Lisa.

  Lisa finished chewing the bite in her mouth. “Really good,” she said. “It’s—”

  “Yo! Forester!” someone called from across the crowded diner.

  Scott glanced over toward the voice and grinned. “Hey, Ward,” he called back, raising a hand in greeting. “How’s it going?”

  With some effort Lisa refrained from rolling her eyes. As much as she loved the food at the Magnolia Diner, she was really starting to wish she hadn’t suggested it that evening. It was Friday night, and as usual the place was hopping. There weren’t many places to go on a casual date in Willow Creek—most of the restaurants were either fuddy-duddy white-napkin kinds of places or greasy fast-food joints. Along with a couple of pizza places and the Creekside Grill, the popular Magnolia Diner was a magnet for people Lisa’s age, especially on week-ends. The
problem was, just about everyone who came in seemed to find it necessary to stop by their table to say hello to Scott.

  Even that wouldn’t be so bad, she thought, poking at her fettucine with her fork, if Scott didn’t feel the need to have a nice, long, personal chat with every single one of them.

  Noticing that Scott had turned back to her with his usual easy smile, she pasted a pleasant expression on her face. She was trying not to let Scott’s sociable nature bother her—after all, it wasn’t as though it was any huge surprise—but for some reason, it was wearing on her nerves that night.

  It also wouldn’t be so bad if Scott seemed to mind all the interruptions to our date, even a little bit, she thought. If he really wanted to be with me, wouldn’t he be a little more focused on, well, me?

  “By the way, Lisa,” Scott said, leaning forward again. “In case I didn’t mention it before, I’m really glad to be here with you tonight.”

  At that, Lisa relaxed slightly, wondering if she was being too uptight. After all, Scott hadn’t really done anything so terrible. He was just being polite to all those other people. She was the one he’d asked out. Her heart fluttered as she gazed into his sincere blue eyes. “Me too,” she said softly.

  “Good.” Scott smiled. “Because I hope we—”

  “Forester! Hey, man, what’s up?”

  Lisa grimaced as what had seemed to be turning into a special moment dissipated, lost once again in the action and clamor of the diner around them. She looked up and saw that a Fenton Hall junior named Kenny Lamb was loping toward their table, a grin on his angular face.

  Scott raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, Kenny.”

  Kenny skidded to a stop at their table, tossing his long brown bangs out of his eyes. “Hey,” he replied, barely bothering to glance Lisa’s way before returning his attention to Scott. “So dude, did you hear what Jimbo did to his folks’ cabin on New Year’s Eve?”

  With that, the two of them launched off into the latest gossip about one of their classmates. Since Lisa didn’t even go to Fenton Hall—she, along with Carole, attended Willow Creek’s public high school—her mind drifted quickly. Once again, she found herself pondering Scott’s sociable nature.