Course of Action

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Absolutely.” Pushing her conversation with Phil out of her mind, Stevie focused her attention on Scott. “Now tell me what happened.”

  Carole had meant it when she’d told Stevie she felt better after talking about her decision. In the hours since their conversation, she had mostly been able to keep her emotions under control. But she still got a knot in her stomach every time she looked at Starlight or thought about what she’d decided to do. She had longed him for half an hour in a secluded schooling ring behind the stable building, not trusting herself to ride him or work him in public. After untacking him and giving him a quick grooming, she had left him in his stall and done her best to distract herself from her grief by taking care of other chores.

  She was almost relieved when Max tracked her down as she was leading Prancer in from the paddock and asked her to help Ben and him do the weekly task that he called hall monitoring. Normally sweeping cobwebs out of the rafters and raking down the stable aisles were among Carole’s least favorite chores, but today the idea of throwing herself into mindless physical labor was a welcome relief.

  “Lead the way,” she told Max. “I’ll show those spiders who’s boss.”

  Max looked a bit surprised at her enthusiasm, but he nodded. “Ben’s getting the tools,” he said. “We’ll start in the indoor ring. Once Prancer’s settled in, come meet us there.”

  Carole did as he said, returning Prancer to her stall and checking her water bucket before hurrying to meet the others. It was still early enough that many of the horses were outside, either grazing in the pastures and paddocks or on the trail with weekend riders. It was the perfect time to clean up and get things nice and neat for the coming week.

  Max was already raking the floor of the large indoor ring, concentrating on the track around the perimeter, which had been worn into a shallow rut by dozens of hooves over the past seven days. Ben had filled a bucket with water and was rinsing a manure stain off the wall near the ring’s double doors. Carole grabbed the broom leaning nearby and smiled at him tentatively.

  “Hi,” she said. She and Ben hadn’t spoken much since their conversation on Friday evening, and after everything that had come of that last talk, she felt a little shy with him. “Looks like you’re taking a real working holiday today.”

  “Looks like,” Ben replied mildly, not looking up from his task. Sunday was technically Ben’s day off, but more often than not he stopped by the stable to do a few chores anyway. Carole had never found that particularly strange—rarely a day went by when she didn’t spend at least an hour or two at Pine Hollow, whether she really needed to be there or not. But once she’d found out where he lived, Carole had been even less surprised that Ben preferred the stable to his home. She couldn’t imagine spending any more time than she had to in that drab, dingy, depressing little shack that he shared with his grandfather.

  Carole moved away and brushed at a dusty cobweb dangling from the edge of the wooden door. The ceiling of the indoor ring was too high to reach, so she concentrated on the doorway and walls, banishing every cobweb she could find.

  By the time she’d finished, the others had completed their jobs as well. “Come on,” Max said. “Time to move on.”

  Carole and Ben picked up their cleaning supplies and followed without a word. Soon they were repeating their tasks in the entryway, and then in one arm of the U-shaped stable aisle.

  Throwing herself into her work had made Carole feel a little better at first. But when she was once again in sight of Starlight’s stall, her stomach started to tie itself in knots and her eyes started to burn with unshed tears. She carefully kept her gaze trained on the rafters and her broom, not looking in the direction of the stall in question. But as the three of them worked their way closer and closer, it got harder to keep from peeking. Soon they were only six doors down from Starlight’s stall, then five, then four …

  “Carole,” Max said suddenly, breaking into her concentration. Glancing at him, she saw that he had half a dozen water buckets dangling from his hands, and several more sat at his feet. He had been removing them from the stalls as they went along. “Can you give me a hand here? I want to get these outside before someone comes along and trips over them. We can rinse them out later.”

  Carole bit her lip and glanced at the doorway at the far end of the aisle. “Um, okay,” she agreed reluctantly, leaning over to pick up the rest of the buckets.

  I can do this, she told herself sternly. I can walk past his stall without freaking out and letting Max know something’s going on. I know I can.

  Max started down the aisle, and she followed with her eyes focused carefully on his back. But she’d hardly taken half a dozen steps toward the door when she heard an all-too-familiar snort from just ahead. Her eyes danced toward the sound, and the sight that greeted them was so familiar, so sweet and touching, that tears sprang to her eyes once again. Starlight had heard them coming and was standing at the front of his stall with his long neck stretched over the half door. His eyes were bright, his ears were pricked forward alertly, and his head was tilted just slightly to one side. It was a mischievous, welcoming look.

  Carole stopped short, unable to take another step, and simply stared at her horse while simultaneous waves of love and anguish washed over her, nearly bowling her over. One of the buckets dropped from her hand and clattered against the floor.

  Max turned at the noise. “Carole?” he said when he saw her standing there staring at her horse. “What are you doing?”

  Carole couldn’t answer. She wanted to—she knew she had to say something soon or Max would figure out that something was going on. But her mouth wouldn’t work, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the bay horse just a few yards away. What was more, hot tears were seriously threatening to spill over. If she so much as blinked, she knew there was no way she would be able to stop their flow.

  “Carole?” Max said more loudly, taking a step toward her. “Are you all right? You look kind of—”

  At that moment there was a shout from farther back down the aisle. “Uh-oh!” Ben exclaimed.

  Carole finally worked up the strength to tear her gaze away from Starlight, and she and Max both turned to look. Ben was standing where they’d left him, but somehow he’d managed to kick over his cleaning bucket, sending dirty water spilling across the aisle, splattering on the walls, and seeping into a couple of nearby stalls.

  “Oh, man,” Max muttered, dropping the buckets he was holding and hurrying toward Ben.

  “Sorry,” Ben called, smiling sheepishly at Max. “Don’t know what got into me. Just lost track of my feet.”

  Carole goggled at Ben, so surprised that she forgot her own problems for a second. It wasn’t like Ben to be so clumsy. It wasn’t like him at all.

  Suddenly she realized what had happened. Ben had done it on purpose. He had caused a commotion intentionally to distract Max, because he’d seen how upset Carole was and guessed that she didn’t want to tell Max why. Her theory was confirmed a moment later when Max leaned over to retrieve the tipped cleaning bucket and Ben shot her a look of concern over his shoulder.

  I can’t believe it, Carole thought. He did it for me. He made himself look like a total idiot to help me out.

  She felt surprised and confused and grateful all at once. Ben was really coming through for her these days, being a true friend. After what had happened between them at the party the previous weekend, she had doubted their friendship would ever get back on track. In fact, she hadn’t been sure she would ever be able to look him in the face again. But now that the chips were down, she was learning that Ben just might be someone she could count on after all.

  Still, she didn’t have much energy to think about that at the moment. She had to pull herself together before Max remembered her weird behavior and asked her about it again. She cleared her throat, keeping her eyes averted from Starlight, who was still curiously watching all the action in the aisle. “I’ll take care of these,” she called to the others, gathering
up as many of the buckets as she could carry. “Be right back.”

  Without waiting for their reply, she made her escape, hurrying down the aisle and out the back door into the cool November afternoon. Dropping the buckets by the outdoor spigot, she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, taking several deep breaths.

  When she felt a little more in control of her own emotions, she allowed herself to think about what had just happened. That was a close call, she told herself. If I want to keep this secret for more than two seconds, I’m going to have to handle things a lot better than I just did.

  She knew she was also going to have to thank Ben for coming to her rescue. She vowed to do so as soon as she could.

  TWELVE

  The next morning Lisa took a different route than she usually did, turning left on Magnolia Street instead of driving straight along Old Town Road to the high school. As she waited for the light to change at the intersection of Magnolia and Broad streets, the closest thing Willow Creek had to a main drag, she glanced at the seat beside her. A long white envelope lay there, a stamp perfectly aligned in the upper right-hand corner.

  Lisa smiled and turned her attention back to the road. She had decided to take this roundabout route because she wanted to stop by the post office and mail the envelope, which contained her acceptance of NVU’s offer for her to join the next year’s freshman class. It was all filled out and signed. All she had to do was mail it to make it official.

  I can’t wait to see the look on Alex’s face when I tell him about this, she thought happily, pressing down gently on the gas pedal as the station wagon in front of her crept slowly across the intersection. He’s going to be almost as excited about it as I am.

  She had already decided to wait to share the news until she could do so in person. That might not be anytime soon, unfortunately, since he was grounded. But she knew it would be worth the wait.

  Once he finds out, there’s no way he’ll mind my spending a measly little week in California over Thanksgiving, she told herself.

  Thinking about California reminded her of her most recent conversation with her father. He had called the evening before to say hi, and Lisa had caught a few hints that made her think he might be planning to tell her sooner than she’d thought that he was buying Prancer for her. She had expected him to wait with the news until graduation, but now she wasn’t so sure. Why else would he mention three times in a twenty-minute conversation that there might be some surprises waiting for her in California? He’d pretended he was talking about the nice weather, or a new coat of paint on the porch, or how much Lily had grown. But Lisa knew her father well enough to realize that he was probably just too pleased about his special gift to keep it a secret much longer.

  She hit her turn signal, preparing to pull into the drive-through lane of the post office. Well, Dad may a have a big surprise for me, she thought with a smile as she pulled up to the row of big blue mailboxes and rolled down her window, squinting in the bright morning sunlight bouncing off her car’s side mirror. But I’ve got one for him, too. She was really looking forward to telling him that she’d settled on a college already. Of course, she added, her smile fading slightly, at some point before that I’ll have to find a time to tell Mom.

  Sliding her letter into the narrow, grimacing mouth of the mailbox, she prepared to drive on, thinking about her mother’s behavior that weekend. Lisa had planned to tell Mrs. Atwood about her momentous decision as soon as she’d arrived home from Pine Hollow on Saturday night. But Rafe had still been there, and Lisa didn’t want to share the news with him—especially since he was a student at NVU himself. When she’d remembered that, it had been the only dark spot on her positive feelings about her choice.

  Of course, he’ll probably flunk out by the time I get there next year, she comforted herself as she pulled out of the post office driveway and headed for school. Especially if he keeps spending so much time with Mom when he should probably be studying.

  She wrinkled her nose as she remembered how, on Sunday, her mother had gone out with Rafe right after they’d both finished their shifts at the store. Mrs. Atwood had called at nine P.M. to tell Lisa that she and Rafe had decided to drive to Washington, D.C., for a romantic dinner, and they wouldn’t be back until late. A whim, Mrs. Atwood had called it.

  Mom never used to have whims before she hooked up with that greasy-haired underage dork, Lisa thought sourly. She shook her head, trying to banish her negative thoughts. This was supposed to be a happy day. Her future was rosy—she’d chosen a college, she was getting the horse of her dreams, and her boyfriend was going to be very happy very soon. What difference did it make, really, if her mother hadn’t been around to hear about it exactly when Lisa had wanted her to be?

  Anyway, it’s not like I don’t have plenty of time to break the news. Lisa’s smile crept back, and she squeezed the steering wheel excitedly as she thought about all the people this decision would make happy. And when I do tell her, she’s going to be almost as excited as I am!

  Across town at Fenton Hall, Callie had hardly entered the school building when she saw George hurrying toward her with a big smile on his face.

  “Callie!” he exclaimed breathlessly as he reached her side. “I was waiting for you. Can I carry your books?”

  For a second Callie wondered if she’d heard him right. He could see perfectly well that her school-books were in the backpack strapped onto her shoulders. That left both hands free to operate her crutches, and it was a system that worked very well. But he seemed to be stuck in some kind of cheesy 1950s time warp—didn’t he know that girls these days were perfectly happy to carry their own books?

  “Um, no thanks,” Callie said through clenched teeth. “I’ve got it covered.”

  “Okay.” George fell into step beside her as she continued toward her homeroom. “So listen, I wanted to say again how much fun I had at the dance, Callie.”

  Callie cringed. His voice was so loud that several other students in the hall turned to glance at them curiously. What had happened to the shy, soft-spoken George she’d gotten to know at Pine Hollow and in chemistry class? She didn’t know, but this new, pushy George was really wearing on her nerves. The day before, she’d feared it was going to take a stick of dynamite to get him out of her house. He had stayed for more than two hours, chatting with her parents and insisting on helping Callie and Scott clean up after lunch. If the Foresters hadn’t had to leave to visit an elderly great-aunt in a nearby nursing home, Callie wasn’t sure George ever would have left.

  “Thanks, George,” Callie said as patiently as she could. She knew that this was partly her fault—she never should have let him go on thinking he had a chance with her after the dance, not even for a couple of days. Any other guy would have taken the hint after she’d dodged that kiss on Saturday night, not to mention slow-dancing with another guy during their date, but George just didn’t seem to be catching on.

  “So how was your trip to see your great-aunt yesterday afternoon?” George continued chattily. “Is her cold any better? From what your mother said, it sounded like it was a bad one.”

  “Fine. She’s fine.” Callie forced herself to smile, ignoring still more curious glances as she looked around desperately for Scott. He had dropped her off at the front steps before going on to park the car. Maybe he would come in soon and rescue her from George.

  Instead, Callie saw Stevie rushing toward her, her dark blond hair flying every which way and her cheeks pink. “Callie!” Stevie called breathlessly. “Wait up!”

  Callie was happy to obey. She stopped short, half hoping that George wouldn’t notice and would keep walking along, talking loudly to himself. But he stopped, too.

  “Hi, Stevie,” Cailie said. “What’s going on?”

  Stevie skidded to a halt in front of her. “Bad stuff,” she announced. “Where’s Scott?”

  “On his way,” Callie reported. “Why? Did something else happen?” She already knew that Veronica’s rumor mill had stayed
busy over the weekend—Scott had received more than a dozen calls from friends reporting things they’d heard.

  Stevie suddenly glanced at George, who was still standing beside Callie. “Listen, George,” she said, “could you excuse us a minute? I need to talk to Callie.”

  “That’s okay,” George said eagerly. “If there’s something going on, maybe I could help, or—”

  “I don’t think so.” Stevie’s voice was curt. “This is kind of private. Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. Turning her back on George, she jerked her head toward the girls’ bathroom. “Come on.”

  Even George couldn’t miss that kind of hint. He watched forlornly as Stevie dragged Callie toward the rest room. Callie felt a twinge of guilt, but it was more than overtaken by relief as she hurried after Stevie and away from George.

  Stevie didn’t pay any attention to George whatsoever as she raced toward the bathroom, pausing long enough to let Callie catch up on her crutches. Opening the girls’ room door, she glanced inside, hoping it wouldn’t be too crowded. Luckily, it was early enough that there were only a couple of people inside, washing their hands or checking their makeup in the mirror. Leading the way to a quiet spot around the corner beyond the row of stalls, Stevie turned to Callie.

  “This is a disaster,” she said. “Veronica is totally on a rampage.”

  Callie shrugged. “Tell me something I don’t know. People were calling our house all weekend wanting to know stuff like if Scott had ever been to the Betty Ford Center and if it was true that my dad hired a hit man to kill off his opponent in his last election.”

  “But it’s even worse than that,” Stevie said urgently, tapping one foot impatiently on the tile floor. She had arrived at school early that morning, dragging Alex away from his breakfast after only one bowl of cornflakes so that she would have extra time to gauge the voters’ reactions to Veronica’s gossip. It hadn’t taken her long to discover that the situation was dire indeed. “Spreading rumors wasn’t enough for her. Now she’s actively campaigning for Valerie.”