Conformation Faults

by Bonnie Bryant

  Carole paused as George Wheeler, a rider their age, turned the corner of the aisle and walked toward them. She snapped her mouth shut, obviously unwilling to continue this discussion in front of an audience. As George approached, Stevie’s mind raced, trying to take in what Carole had said so far and balance it with what Lisa had told her a few minutes earlier.

  “Hi, Carole, Stevie.” George stopped when he reached the two girls and gave them one of his typical shy smiles. He had started riding at Pine Hollow a little over a year before when his family had moved to Willow Creek. Stevie didn’t know him very well, even though he was a junior at Fenton Hall and had been in a couple of her classes the year before. But she knew enough to recognize that he was one of the best young riders at the stable, despite the fact that he didn’t look like most people’s idea of a rider. Because of his stocky, almost pudgy physique and his boyish, rounded face, it always seemed a little surprising that he could stay in the saddle at all, let alone that he had won countless ribbons in jumping and eventing.

  But Stevie wasn’t really thinking about any of that as she and Carole politely returned George’s greeting. Stevie’s mind drifted as George and Carole exchanged a few words about George’s horse, a sleek gray Trakehner named Joyride. Stevie was still trying to make sense of the fight. When she had arrived, she had been certain Lisa was in the right and Carole in the wrong. But now …

  Finally George moved on. As soon as he had disappeared at the end of the aisle, Carole turned back to Stevie. “Anyway,” she said, “as I was saying, I was really torn up about keeping this from Lisa. But I figured she’d be even more worried if she knew the truth, and besides, I really didn’t have any choice. She should have realized I have a responsibility to Max.”

  “Hmmm.” Stevie leaned on the half door, thinking hard about what Carole had just said. “I think I get your point.” She paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to ask next. “Um, but did you consider talking to Max about this? You know, letting him know how upset Lisa was getting, maybe trying to convince him to let her in on the secret? You know she wouldn’t have told anyone else.”

  Carole blinked. “What?”

  Stevie gave her a close look. Was she imagining things, or were Carole’s brown eyes just the slightest bit unfocused, as if her mind was wandering?

  Stevie shook her head. This argument between her friends was making her paranoid. “You know, maybe you could have talked Max into telling her.”

  “Maybe.” Carole shrugged. “But what if I had, and he’d said no? Lisa still would have jumped to conclusions and called me a liar and a bad friend.” Her frown returned. “She didn’t even give me a chance to explain. I know she was upset and everything, but it wasn’t fair for her to take it out on me like that.”

  Stevie couldn’t argue with that. “I guess,” she said helplessly. “Um, but you aren’t really going to hold that against her, are you?”

  Carole just shrugged again, her face taking on a stubborn look. Stevie recognized that expression. It didn’t turn up very often, but when it did it meant it wasn’t going to be easy to change Carole’s mind with anything short of a court order.

  Stevie didn’t know what to do. Carole had a right to be mad. It sounded as though Lisa really had flown off the handle and said some hurtful, unfair things. Then again, she had only been reacting to what she considered a horrible betrayal of her friendship. Both of them might have gone overboard with their emotions, but neither was really wrong about what she was saying. How could either of them have acted any differently? But then again, how could two people who were supposedly best friends act that way toward each other at all? Stevie had no idea. The only thing that was clear in all this was that both her best friends were really angry with each other. She couldn’t even begin to figure out how to fix that right now, especially since her mind was already so full of other problems.…

  That reminded her of something. “Listen,” she said. “Not to totally change the subject, but we’re going to confront A.J. tomorrow afternoon. We’re going to get all his friends together and challenge him to tell us what’s bothering him these days. We want everyone to be at Phil’s house by the time he gets home around four. Can you come?”

  Carole looked wary. “I don’t know. Is Lisa going to be there?”

  “I hope so,” Stevie replied frankly. “I forgot to mention it to her just now, but I’m going to call her as soon as I get home.” She gave Carole a challenging look. “Why? Are you going to abandon A.J. just because you’re mad at Lisa?”

  For a moment, Carole’s mulish expression deepened. But then a guilty, almost pained look passed like a shadow over her face, and she shook her head. “No, you’re right,” she said. “I’ll be there—for A.J. I’ve got to stay after school for a little while, but I should be finished in time. And I’m sure Ben or Denise will cover for me here for an hour or two.” She scowled. “But Lisa had better stay out of my way.”

  Stevie sighed. “Fine,” she said shortly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  After Stevie left, Carole gave Starlight one last pat, then hurried down the aisle, feeling disgruntled. She was way behind schedule, thanks to all these interruptions, and she knew she had to get home soon if she wanted to have time to study for her makeup test. Why did Lisa have to pick today of all days to freak out? The clock was ticking, and Carole still had to finish grooming Samson. Besides that, she’d promised Red she would call the farrier and set up an appointment for several of the stable’s horses before she left today, there was a pile of bandages waiting for her in the tack room—Red had washed them earlier, but Carole was supposed to roll them and put them away once they were dry—and someone had to bring down a few bales of hay from the loft.

  She sped down the aisle and crossed the entry-way. The work wasn’t going to do itself, so she might as well get started. Maybe she could roll the bandages while she was on the phone with the farrier …

  When she rushed into the tack room, she found that it was already occupied. Three junior-high girls were there cleaning their tack. They had been chatting companionably with each other, but they fell silent as Carole entered the room, glancing at her curiously.

  Carole suddenly realized that she must look like some kind of weird, unkempt mutant. She hadn’t bothered to so much as glance at her hair after exercising Samson. If it was working true to form, she imagined that the dark curls that had lain beneath the rim of her hard hat were plastered to the side of her head by dried sweat. Meanwhile, the rest of her hair, which she had hurriedly plaited into a single long braid at the traffic lights between Willow Creek High School and the stable, was undoubtedly coming loose in huge, unruly clumps.

  She forced herself to smile at the younger girls. “Hi, Juliet. May.” She struggled to remember the name of the third girl, an occasional rider at best. “Um, Karen?”

  “Katrina,” the girl corrected.

  “Sorry. Katrina.” As Carole glanced around at the three girls, a sudden feeling of intense, yearning nostalgia washed over her. These three friends could have been her, Stevie, and Lisa just a few years before. She couldn’t remember how many times the three of them had sat in this very tack room, working and talking and holding endless meetings of The Saddle Club, a group they had formed soon after they’d all met.

  Their lives had seemed so much simpler back then. So easy and full of fun. What had happened? When had things changed? She wasn’t really sure. Maybe it had started when they had entered high school, with all its additional social and academic pressures. Or when Lisa’s parents had divorced. Or even when Carole had switched from merely riding at Pine Hollow to working there as well.

  But Carole was sure of one thing. Back in those days, Lisa never would have acted the way she’d acted today. She wouldn’t have treated Carole that way. They had all changed in the past few years, but maybe Lisa had changed even more than Carole had realized. Maybe she wasn’t the same person Carole had always known.

  Suddenly the s
ound of May clearing her throat broke into her thoughts. Realizing that the three girls were staring at her questioningly—probably wondering why she was gazing at them with that sappy, wistful expression on her face—Carole felt herself blush.

  Just then Katrina stood to return her bridle to its hook. That gave Carole an idea. “Listen, you three,” she said briskly, doing her best to cover her lingering embarrassment. “I need to ask you to help me out here.” She hurried over to the sink in the corner and dragged out the large bucket where she had stuffed the bandages earlier after bringing them in from the clothesline out back.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she caught Juliet rolling her eyes at Katrina. But she chose to ignore it.

  “It looks like you’re just about done here,” she went on. “And someone needs to roll these clean bandages and stack them in the cabinet.” She dropped the bucket at May’s feet. “Guess what? You’re elected.”

  Katrina groaned in protest, but May just sighed and set aside the girth she was cleaning. “Sure, Carole,” she said. “We’ll be happy to do it.”

  “Good.” Carole stayed in the tack room just long enough to see each of the three girls get started on the bandages. She was pretty sure Max wouldn’t mind what she had done. Yes, Carole had assured Red that she would take care of the bandages today. But as long as the job got done, what was the difference? Wasn’t Max always talking about how every rider had to pitch in and help around the stable? Carole and her friends had certainly spent a good amount of time over the years rolling bandages, mucking out stalls, mixing feed, and doing all the other dull but necessary tasks that kept Pine Hollow running smoothly. Now it was these girls’ turn to take over when Carole needed their help. It was good for them. It would help teach them not to take riding for granted.

  Carole nodded, satisfied with her own argument. Then she hurried off toward the ladder to the hayloft.

  Twenty minutes later, Carole slipped into Samson’s stall. “I bet you thought I’d never come back, didn’t you, handsome?” she murmured, raising her hands to the horse’s finely sculpted head as he stepped forward to greet her. “Don’t worry. I didn’t forget I still owed you a good grooming.”

  She attached the nylon webbing across the front of the stall and reached for the grooming kit she had set in the aisle just outside. She had cooled Samson down and given him a quick rubdown after their training session that day, but she had put off a full grooming until she had time to do it properly. She didn’t have quite as much time as she might have liked now, but there was nothing she could do about that. Why is it that Ben never seems to be around when I really need him? she thought peevishly. Red and Max had been busy with other things, so Carole had spent several valuable minutes searching for the young stable hand to help her bring down the hay. But Ben was nowhere to be found, and finally, feeling the minutes ticking away and imagining all those chapters waiting in her history book, Carole had given up and started hoisting bales herself. She had been almost finished when George Wheeler had happened by to lend a hand.

  But none of that mattered now. As soon as she set eyes on Samson, Carole immediately felt one hundred percent better. After snapping a lead line to the big black horse’s halter and attaching it to the ring on the wall—unlike many horses, Samson didn’t need to be put in cross-ties when he was groomed—she ran her hand down his leg to ask him to lift his foot.

  He did so promptly and she smiled, amazed as always at his eagerness to please her. “Thanks, fella,” she said, hoisting a hoof pick and setting to work. “Don’t worry, I’ll have all four feet nice and clean before you know it.”

  Suddenly she paused, remembering that she had never called the farrier as she’d promised. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was getting late.

  The farrier is probably eating his dinner, she thought. Why bother him now? I can call him tomorrow. No big deal.

  She felt a moment of guilt as she reached the decision. But she shrugged it off. It wasn’t that important. She returned her attention to Samson’s hoof.

  But for once, she felt her mind wandering as she tended to the big horse. Her fight with Lisa was really bothering her. What had made Lisa turn on her like that? It was still hard for Carole to believe some of the things Lisa had said.

  “I can’t believe I was so careful and excited about that whole stupid secret,” she whispered to Samson, feeling rather sorry for herself. She had tried to do what was best for everyone, and look where it had gotten her. “I mean, not just the part about Prancer being pregnant, but the other stuff, too.…”

  Her voice trailed off. She didn’t really want to think about that right now. She wasn’t even sure if Max had said anything to Lisa about the second part of Prancer’s secret. What was more, she, didn’t really care. After the way Lisa had reacted, the last thing Carole wanted to think about was more surprises.

  She blew out her lips in a loud sigh of frustration, wishing she could return to the good old days, when she could count on her friends to act the way they were supposed to. Why did people have to be so complicated?

  “That’s why I’m glad I have you, Samson,” she murmured, lowering the foot she’d been working on and moving on to the next. “I can always count on you.”

  Samson snorted, seeming to agree with her comment, and Carole smiled. Pushing all her problems out of her head, she set to work on her grooming with renewed energy. If anything could make her forget her worries, it was spending some quality time with this brave, wonderful, loyal horse.

  Later that night, Callie rolled over in her bed and glanced at Sheila, who was lying in a roll-away cot across the room. In the dim moonlight seeping into the room through the curtains, Sheila was little more than a dark shape against the sheets.

  “So that’s the rundown on Pine Hollow, I guess,” Callie said. The girls had been talking since they’d turned out the lights an hour before. Actually, they’d been talking almost nonstop since that conversation in the backyard earlier in the day. Callie still couldn’t get used to it, but she didn’t want it to stop. Even the thought of sleep seemed like an unwelcome intrusion, an interruption of this strangely wonderful new intimacy.

  “I wish I’d had a chance to visit the stable while I was here,” Sheila said. “It sounds like a pretty cool place—probably even better than good old Greensprings Stable back home.”

  “Do you still go there much?”

  “Not much,” Sheila replied. “You know how it is—things are pretty busy right now. But seriously, do you think this Regnery guy is better or worse than your old trainer?”

  Callie yawned as she considered the question. “Neither, really,” she said thoughtfully. “Max isn’t an endurance specialist or anything, but he really knows horses. I haven’t thought about it that much.” She laughed. “And now that I do think about it, that’s kind of a surprise. I’ve spent an awful lot of time since we moved here comparing just about everything else to Valley Vista.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” Callie shrugged, though she knew Sheila probably couldn’t see. “It’s like I was saying earlier. Everything’s so different, you know? The people, the weather, our house, the landscape …” She chuckled. “And then there’s the accent, of course. I still haven’t gotten used to that drawl a lot of people here have. It’s like something from the movies.”

  Sheila laughed. “I don’t know what y’all’s talkin’ ’bout,” she drawled in an exaggerated Southern accent.

  Callie giggled. And once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop. It was only partly because Sheila had sounded so silly and mostly because Callie was feeling so happy and carefree and elated. She couldn’t imagine what she had been so afraid of before. Why had she spent all those years closed in, keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself? In the course of a single day, all that had changed. She had shared things with Sheila that she had never told another soul—her thoughts, her fears and dreams, her unique view of the world. And nothing bad had happened. Wh
y hadn’t she tried it before?

  “What are you laughing at?” Sheila asked, sounding perplexed.

  Callie could hardly stop giggling long enough to respond. “Y’all!” she blurted out with some effort. Then she burst into fresh gales of helpless laughter.

  This time Sheila joined in. The two of them shook and gasped with laughter, laughing so hard and long that Callie’s stomach muscles started to ache. But she didn’t care. It felt so good to let go like this.…

  Eventually the girls’ laughter died away. They lay still for a moment in the darkness, each thinking her own thoughts.

  Sheila was the first to break the silence. “So what’s the deal with this guy your friends kept talking about yesterday?” she asked. “I kept overhearing all these weird little comments. What’s his name—B.J. or something?”

  “A.J.,” Callie replied. Sheila’s question reminded her about Stevie’s phone call a few hours earlier. She had told Callie about the intervention and asked her to meet the others at Phil’s house the next afternoon when she got back from taking Sheila to the airport. Callie felt a pang at the thought, and it had nothing to do with A.J.

  I can’t believe it, she told herself in amazement, her heart swelling with a strange mixture of joy and sadness. A few days ago I was dreading the whole idea of Sheila’s visit. And now I can hardly stand the thought that she has to leave!

  ELEVEN

  Lisa hung back as the rest of her physics class stampeded for the doorway. The bell had just rung, releasing them from a confusing discussion of electromagnetism, and most of the students couldn’t get away fast enough. But Lisa had been so distracted throughout the class that she’d barely heard a word anyone had said. She was still seething about what Carole had done. But more importantly, she was trying to figure out what the news about Prancer really meant.