Wild Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  Mrs. Atwood pursed her lips. “Look, probably nothing will come of this, but the school is interested in seeing you, and I arranged for you to have an interview, all right? Wentworth is right in the heart of Virginia horse country, you know. Who knows? You may love it.” With that, she unlocked the car doors and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Lisa got in on her side. She was silent as her mother started the car and pulled out into the street. Her head was reeling. This had to be the most far-fetched idea her mother had ever had. Lisa could no sooner imagine herself going to a boarding school than she could imagine going to the moon! But then she realized something: Boarding schools cost thousands and thousands of dollars. A nice haircut now and then was one thing, but prep-school tuition was quite another.

  “Uh, Mom?” she began cautiously. “Don’t schools like Wentworth cost a lot?”

  Mrs. Atwood looked exasperated. “Well, ye-es. Anyway, the point is, we’ll have to see how you like it first,” she said briskly. “I thought you could spend some time with the girls to get a feel for the place. Maybe Saturday afternoon they could take you to see the stables. Imagine that, Lisa, the famous Wentworth stables! I know you’ve heard of them. I hear they’re magnificent.” She reached over and gave Lisa’s hand an excited squeeze.

  Lisa stared at her mother again, but her mother’s eyes were fixed on the road. She had her I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer look on her face. Lisa knew she ought to put an end to the whole idea right away. It would only upset her mother when she realized that they could never afford to send Lisa to the school and that even if they could, she would never want to go. Then Lisa had a second thought. Why should she ruin her mother’s plans after she had gone to so much trouble? One day at Wentworth wasn’t going to kill her. And now that she knew that it was the same Wentworth whose stables she had heard so much about, it might be interesting to see.

  Besides, when it came right down to it, Lisa knew, she had absolutely nothing to worry about. For the first time in her life, she was glad beyond belief that her parents weren’t rich. With a resigned sigh, she sat back in her seat. “It sounds like fun, Mom,” she said.

  STEVIE GROANED IN self-pity. Here it was, only the third day of the term, and she couldn’t wait for summer vacation. Even though it was Friday, it had been the worst possible day imaginable. She’d missed the bus because she hadn’t been able to find her science book. Her mother had been annoyed that she had to drive Stevie to school and had lectured her the entire way. Then she’d been late anyway. Everybody had made jokes about Stevie’s being tardy on only the third day. Then her science teacher had made a joke about her forgetting her book on only the third day. “But I didn’t forget it, Ms. Anderson, I lost it!” Stevie had said, before she realized how much worse that sounded.

  In sports they had to do the fifty-yard dash. To the delight of Veronica diAngelo, Stevie had tripped and fallen and had the slowest time in the class, when usually she was in the top ten. At lunch, seeing signs in the cafeteria for the back-to-school dance had cheered her up the tiniest bit—until Alex and Chad informed her that the boys had decided the Fenton dances were lame and were planning to boycott this one.

  For the final straw, now that the school day was over and she was about to escape to Pine Hollow, where she could share her miseries with Lisa and Carole, Stevie had found a note taped to her locker. Not just any note, but a note from the headmistress of the school: Stevie, Please see me before you leave for the day—Miss Fenton.

  Walking down the hall to the headmistress’s office, Stevie racked her brains, trying to figure out why she was in trouble. The only thing she could remember doing was telling Veronica that her new outfit made her look like walking wallpaper. Could Miss Fenton have found out about that? It would be just like Veronica to tell on Stevie. Maybe Stevie could feign innocence, or better yet, pretend she’d meant it as a compliment. Waiting on the bench outside the office, Stevie composed an extravagant explanation. After a few minutes, Miss Fenton opened her door. She summoned Stevie inside.

  “Now, Stephanie—”

  “I know, Miss Fenton,” Stevie said breathlessly. “I know how bad it sounds, but, you see, I meant it as a compliment! I love wallpaper! Why, you should see the wallpaper at our house. It’s beautiful—all bright and flowery. How was I supposed to know she would take it the wrong way? I mean, I am sorry, but I really don’t think—”

  “Stephanie, what in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Miss Fenton broke in.

  Stevie smiled wanly. “You mean this isn’t about the wallpaper?”

  “What wallpaper?” Miss Fenton demanded.

  “Never mind—no wallpaper. You can forget all about the wallpaper, Miss Fenton,” Stevie croaked.

  Miss Fenton sat down at her desk. She motioned for Stevie to sit down, too. She folded her hands, raised her right eyebrow, and looked sternly at Stevie. “If you mean to tell me that you and Veronica diAngelo are feuding already, I don’t want to hear about it. Put an end to it at once.”

  “But—”

  “Keep your distance from one another if you must.”

  “Yes, Miss Fenton,” Stevie said, trying to sound contrite. “May I go now?”

  “Go? No, you may not. I called you in here for a purpose, not for my own amusement. Would you like to hear why?”

  “Yes, Miss Fenton,” said Stevie. She crossed her fingers, hoping the headmistress’s “purpose” wouldn’t be a huge pain.

  “All right, then. I’m making you head of the back-to-school dance committee.”

  Stevie sat forward in her chair. “Really? But what about the old dance committee?” For as long as Stevie had been going to the Fenton dances, the same handful of older boys and girls had been running them.

  “They don’t want to do it anymore. With the boys threatening to boycott, they don’t feel appreciated. Besides, it’s time for some new blood. So I’m placing you at the helm. You’ll have to choose a cochair. The two of you will then pick a theme and organize the decorations, music, and refreshments. Naturally you can recruit other volunteers, too. Make sure you include some boys. And there’s not much time. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Stevie said, flabbergasted. “But why me?”

  Miss Fenton smiled for the first time. “It has come to my attention that you have a knack for organizing, Stephanie. I’m trusting you to put some life into this back-to-school dance.”

  “Don’t worry, Miss Fenton. I won’t let you down,” Stevie said promptly. “The kids will go wild, I promise.”

  “Not too wild, I hope. You also have to find parents to chaperone,” Miss Fenton reminded her. “So, off you go. Keep me posted, all right?”

  With that, Miss Fenton showed Stevie the door. Stevie was so excited, she skipped down the almost deserted hallway. She had never felt so appreciated at school before. Being head of the dance committee was a big honor. The students who had done it before were always looked up to by the younger kids. They had a real presence in the school. They also had privileges like getting to skip gym to work on decorations. But the main reason Stevie was so excited by the news was that she knew she would be great at the job. This must be the way Lisa felt before she took a test, Stevie figured. “I’m sure going to ace this one!” she said aloud.

  “What did you say, Stevie?” a girl asked, emerging from a classroom.

  Stevie stopped and turned. She recognized a girl from Veronica’s crowd. “Hi, Sarah. I was just saying how happy I am that Miss Fenton asked me to be head of the dance committee,” she said nonchalantly.

  “You are?” the girl said. “But what about last year’s committee?”

  “They quit,” Stevie replied cheerfully.

  “They did? Wow. But wait, aren’t there usually two heads?” the girl asked.

  Stevie nodded. “Yes. I still have to pick someone to help me. Tough decision, huh?”

  The girl looked serious. “Very. But, you know, I think I heard Veronica saying today that she was interested in the job.
It’s funny that Miss Fenton didn’t pick her, but now you can. She’d be a great cochair.”

  Stevie almost laughed out loud, but she managed to keep a straight face. “Thanks, Sarah. I’ll keep her in mind, okay?” Once the girl had gone, Stevie had to giggle. Veronica would make the worst cochair imaginable! She would want to do it only for the recognition. She hated to work hard at anything. Her idea of adding some life to something was to spend a lot of money buying stuff. But she always surrounded herself with shallow people like Sarah, who worshipped her. “That’ll be the day,” Stevie muttered to herself. “Sure, I’ll make Veronica cochair—when horses get wings!”

  “WHAT ON EARTH do you think could have happened to Stevie?” Carole asked. She and Lisa were schooling their horses, Starlight and Prancer, in the outdoor ring. Lisa didn’t actually own Prancer, but she had ridden the mare for a long time, so it was almost as if she did. As a favor to Stevie, who was late, the girls had groomed her horse, Belle, and left her tacked up in her stall, expecting that Stevie would show up right away. But almost an hour had passed, and she hadn’t arrived. Carole and Lisa had warmed up. Now they were starting to work on a few dressage movements.

  “You don’t think she could have detention already, do you?” Lisa asked.

  “It wouldn’t exactly shock me,” Carole said, grinning as she sat down in the saddle to ask Starlight for a canter. She kept the young bay half-Thoroughbred in a small circle at first, asking him to bend around the turns. After a couple of circles, she cantered down the diagonal of the ring. In the middle she asked for a flying change. Starlight responded by switching leads in midair.

  “Wow, Carole, he looks great,” Lisa called. She followed Carole’s example, but instead of doing a flying change, she had Prancer break to a trot in the middle of the ring and then pick up the new lead. Even though Prancer had come a long way from her days as a fresh-off-the-track ex-racehorse, Lisa tried to keep things simple when she could, to help build the mare’s confidence. She knew there was no point in rushing a horse’s training; it would only backfire later.

  “Nice job,” Carole said, returning Lisa’s compliment.

  The two girls trotted together down the long side of the ring. “I guess in a way it’s back to school for the horses, too,” said Lisa. “The summer is always so crazy with Pony Club and camp and shows that it seems like there’s no time for quiet schooling until September.”

  “I know,” Carole agreed, slowing Starlight to a walk. “I don’t want to jump for a week or so. I want to concentrate on dressage. Maybe we can all stay late after Horse Wise tomorrow and work on a few things together,” she suggested. Horse Wise was the local branch of the United States Pony Club. All The Saddle Club girls were members.

  Lisa frowned in annoyance. “I’m not going to be here. Maybe somebody else could ride Prancer so she gets exercised.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Carole. It was unusual for Lisa to miss a day of riding, not to mention a Pony Club lesson.

  Lisa looked embarrassed. “It’s so stupid,” she began. “I—I have to go to Wentworth Manor.”

  “Wentworth Manor? Why? Is there a clinic there or something?” Carole asked. Professional riders often taught special riding classes at big stables such as the one at Wentworth. “Should we all go?”

  Lisa shook her head. “I wish it were a riding clinic. Actually—you see—the truth is, my mother’s making me interview there,” she finished in a rush.

  Carole looked at her. “You mean she wants you to go to school there?” she asked, surprised. Carole never even thought of Wentworth Manor as a school. She knew the stables were connected to a boarding school, but it had never actually occurred to her that girls from places like Willow Creek went there.

  Lisa nodded unhappily. “It’s so stupid, Carole. We could never afford it, and I would never want to go there, but my mother gets these ideas in her head …”

  Carole listened sympathetically—she knew how pushy Mrs. Atwood could be. Sometimes she was outwardly pushy, and other times she was pushy in a different way—the “guilt-trip” kind of pushy. She could make Lisa feel bad if Lisa didn’t do as she asked.

  “Anyway, at least I only have to visit the place. And the drive there is supposed to be nice. It goes right by a bunch of the famous horse farms,” Lisa concluded.

  Carole had been about to suggest that Lisa tell her mother how she felt, but she decided not to. She didn’t want to interfere, especially if Lisa had already worked everything out in her head. After all, Lisa was her mother’s daughter, and if anyone knew how to handle Mrs. Atwood, it was probably Lisa. Carole changed the topic and asked Lisa about her haircut.

  “It was great!” said Lisa.

  “I guess it will be all crushed from your hat, but I’ll have to see it after we ride,” Carole said enthusiastically.

  Lisa hastened to set her straight. “Actually, my hair doesn’t look very different. It’s just the salon itself that was so much fun.” She filled Carole in on the luxurious setting and the funny gossip she’d overheard.

  “Star pupil!” Carole said indignantly when Lisa got to the part about Veronica. “Star of her own universe, more like.”

  The two girls laughed and then split up again to work individually with their horses. When they headed to the barn half an hour later, Stevie still had not arrived. Lisa had to go to a ballet lesson, so Carole volunteered to untack Belle. “Great, and if you see Stevie, will you explain to her why I’m not coming tomorrow?” Lisa asked. “I left a note for Max explaining about Pony Club.”

  “Sure, and call us tomorrow night and tell us all about it, okay?” Carole said.

  When Lisa had gone, Carole gave Starlight a final pat and went to Belle’s stall. “Poor thing, we got you all tacked up for nothing,” Carole said, unbuckling the mare’s girth. Belle champed her bit impatiently. Usually tack meant going out for a ride; instead she’d been waiting in her stall for an hour.

  “Stevie’s not around?” a voice inquired.

  Carole looked up to see Max’s mother, Mrs. Reg, looking over the stall door. The older woman was a good friend of The Saddle Club and often stopped to chat with the girls on her stable rounds.

  “She was supposed to ride with Lisa and me, but she never made it,” Carole explained.

  “If I know Stevie Lake, she’s up to some scheming,” Mrs. Reg said with a chuckle. She knew all the girls’ personalities well—sometimes too well. She often knew what was going on with them before they knew it themselves.

  “Say, Mrs. Reg,” Carole said, laying Belle’s saddle gently over the wall of the stall. “Have you ever heard of Wentworth Manor?”

  “Wentworth? Of course,” Mrs. Reg said. “They’ve got one of the nicest facilities in Virginia. Sixty horses, hundreds of acres …”

  “No, I mean the school. What’s it like?”

  “Oh, the school. Right. We horsey people tend to forget it exists, don’t we?” Mrs. Reg said.

  “We sure do,” Carole agreed. “I guess because the stables are so well known.”

  “Yes, but that’s not the only reason. The stables are fantastic; the school itself isn’t so hot.”

  “Really?” Carole said.

  “Yes, you know—it’s one of those snobby riding schools. Rich girls go there so they can keep riding and showing. At least, that was its reputation in my day. It may have changed—improved its academics—but I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no particular reason,” Carole said lightly. “Just curious.”

  Mrs. Reg gave her a penetrating look. “You’re not thinking of going there, are you?”

  “Oh no!” Carole exclaimed. “Of course not, Mrs. Reg.”

  “Good. Because you can get a much better education right here in Willow Creek,” Mrs. Reg said firmly.

  “And a much better riding education right here at Pine Hollow, right?” Carole kidded her.

  “That, my dear, goes without saying,” Mrs. Reg said with a wink.

  “H
OLD IT RIGHT there,” a voice said.

  Carole turned, body brush in hand, from grooming Belle. “Hey, I thought you weren’t coming,” she said, happy to see Stevie’s pert face over the stall door.

  “I thought I wasn’t coming, too, but then I figured there was still time to have a quick ride in the indoor ring,” Stevie said.

  “Well, Belle’s all groomed, so hand me that saddle and I’ll put it back on,” Carole said promptly.

  Stevie picked the saddle up and gave it to Carole. The girls helped one another out on so many occasions that Stevie didn’t need to thank Carole for grooming Belle, but she did anyway. Somehow when Carole brushed a horse, it took on an extra glow. Stevie was sure her friend doused her body brush with magic gleaming powder, but Carole insisted it was elbow grease, pure and simple. “Thanks to you, Carole, Belle looks just like her name—a beautiful Southern belle. Don’t you, girl?” Stevie murmured, giving the half-Saddlebred a pat on her neck.

  “All right, cut the cute stuff and tell me why you’re so late,” Carole said. “It better be good.”

  Stevie grinned. “Thought you’d never ask. But first we’ve got to find Lisa. I want her to hear, too.”

  “Lisa’s gone for the day,” Carole told her.

  “Already? Oh, well, I guess I can catch her tomorrow.”

  “Nope. She won’t be here then, either.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Her mother is taking her to look at Wentworth Manor,” Carole said. She watched Stevie’s face to see how she would react.

  Stevie looked perplexed. “What? Did I hear that right? Why would Lisa look at Wentworth?”

  Carole shrugged. “I don’t know, but her mother set up an interview for her.”

  “You’re kidding!” Stevie exclaimed.

  Belle threw her head up in annoyance at Stevie’s raised voice. Down the aisle came another voice: “No need to announce your presence to the whole stable, Stevie,” Max barked.

  Stevie grimaced slightly, but even a reprimand from Max couldn’t distract her. “Can we talk about this for a minute?” she asked, looking around for somewhere private.