Penalty Points

by Bonnie Bryant

  Her heart in her throat, Carole hurried toward the two younger girls, ignoring Belle, who nickered for her attention as she hurried past her stall. “Hey!” she said urgently, not wanting to shout and scare the horses even more. She grabbed Justine’s arm tightly and glared at Alexandra. “What’s the matter with you two?”

  Justine’s face took on the annoyed, stubborn expression Carole had grown to know and dread, but Alexandra looked sheepish. “Sorry, Carole,” she whined. “We just wanted to play with the kitties, but they’re too shy.”

  “They’re not shy,” Carole snapped, exasperated. “They just don’t like being grabbed and shrieked at. Can you blame them?” She glanced over and saw that the calico cat had made an escape, her white-tipped tail just disappearing up the wooden ladder to the hayloft. When she looked back at the two girls, Carole spotted someone hurrying toward them from the other end of the hall. She gulped, recognizing Ben Marlow’s dark hair and broad shoulders—and his thunderous glare.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded when he reached them.

  Now even Justine looked contrite and slightly nervous. Ben Marlow rarely showed much emotion, at least not when he was dealing with people rather than horses, whose company he clearly preferred. But he was angry now. If there was anyone who could scare the two young offenders more than Max, it was Ben. Carole knew that most of the intermediate riders whispered about the brooding young stable hand behind his back, and she’d once heard Sarah Anne Porter speculate that he would make a perfect crazy ax murderer in a horror movie—good-looking but mysterious and a little scary.

  “Nothing,” Justine muttered sullenly, peeking up at Ben quickly, then staring down at her feet. “No problem.”

  Ben looked at Carole questioningly. She shrugged, giving the younger girls a stern glance. “I think it’s all under control,” she told Ben. “These two were just heading back to the party. Right?”

  “Uh-huh,” Alexandra squeaked, scurrying down the hall without risking so much as a glance at Ben. Justine followed without a word.

  Carole heaved a sigh, glad that the incident was over and even more relieved that it hadn’t taken place anywhere near Prancer’s stall—especially since the mare was terrified of cats. A quick check was enough to tell her that the horses nearby had already lost interest and settled down in their stalls.

  She turned her attention back to Ben, who was staring after the intermediate riders, still looking angry. “Twerps,” he muttered. “Shouldn’t be allowed in a stable.”

  Carole shrugged. While she agreed that Justine and Alexandra’s behavior had been irresponsible, her annoyance with them was already fading now that it was over and all the horses were safe. She couldn’t quite agree that banning them from Pine Hollow was much of a solution. They were young, and they had simply gotten excited and forgotten where they were. It happened. She could remember more than one occasion when she and her friends—especially Stevie, who had been just as irrepressible and exuberant as any of these intermediate riders—had lost their heads and broken one of Max’s many stable rules.

  “Whatever,” she told Ben neutrally, not wanting to start a debate about the younger girls’ behavior. Especially not now, when she felt herself blushing, as she still seemed to do whenever she set eyes on him.

  Ben hardly seemed to hear her. His thick brows were set in a deep scowl, and his dark eyes were still flashing with anger. “Twerps,” he muttered grimly as he turned and peered into the nearest stall. “Better see if everyone’s okay.”

  Carole bit her lip and did as he suggested, glancing into the stall across the aisle. A horse named Congo stared placidly back at her, chewing steadily on a mouthful of hay. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Ben is crankier than usual today, she thought as she moved on to the next stall. A bunch of hyper Pony Clubbers isn’t exactly his cup of tea. She patted Comanche, who had come to the front of the stall to greet her. Still, it would be nice if he weren’t always so difficult …

  She winced as she thought back to the party the previous weekend. She still didn’t know why Ben had decided to come. A crowded high-school party wasn’t any more his scene than a Pony Club bash. But one thing was certain in Carole’s mind—he hadn’t come because he was interested in getting to know her better. He’d made that abundantly clear.

  What was I thinking, asking him to dance like that? she wondered, feeling a hot blush creeping over her cheeks even at the memory. It’s crazy. Ben and I are hardly even friends, let alone … Anyway, I can’t believe I was such an idiot. It’s not like I ever even thought of him that way. Why would I?

  Risking a glance at Ben, she saw that he was looking straight back at her. His frown had faded and he looked thoughtful. As soon as he saw her looking, he jumped and turned quickly back to the horse beside him. “Things look okay,” he said gruffly over his shoulder.

  “Uh-huh.” Carole swallowed hard, hoping he hadn’t noticed her hot cheeks in the relatively dim light of the stable aisle. Every time she looked at him now, she remembered how he’d turned her down when she’d asked him to dance, then stood and abruptly left the party. But he hadn’t mentioned the incident since, and she certainly wasn’t about to bring it up. If he could ignore what had happened, so could she.

  I just wish … The thought trailed off, and Carole wasn’t even sure what she’d been about to wish for. Maybe just that Ben hadn’t had such an easy time ignoring what she’d said at the party. I guess it would be kind of nice if he ever noticed I was alive except when he’s annoyed with me, she thought. It would be nice to have someone to talk to—a real friend who could understand what I’m all about …

  Carole was surprised at her thoughts. She automatically stepped over to the next stall, but she hardly saw the horse dozing in the far corner as she leaned on the half door. Behind her, she heard Ben murmuring softly to the horse he was checking, though she couldn’t quite make out his words. He seemed to have his own language that he used only with horses, one much more fluent than his English, which he often seemed to struggle with as if it were a foreign tongue that he’d never quite mastered.

  It’s not as if Ben exactly invites the idea of his being some kind of—of confidant, she told herself. It’s not even like he’s much of a friend most of the time. She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Anyway, what do I need a new friend for? My own friends are wonderful. I’m lucky to have them.

  She smiled as she thought about Stevie and Lisa. How many years had they been friends now? How many scrapes and adventures and problems had they worked through together? Carole couldn’t even begin to count. All she knew was that they would always be best friends, no matter what happened. If she needed further proof of that, all she had to do was remember the way Lisa had forgiven her for accidentally telling Alex about what Skye had said.

  Still, it sometimes seems like they’re both so busy with other things these days, she thought wistfully. They both have their boyfriends. Lisa has been working like crazy on her college applications since summer. Stevie is all wrapped up in that school election, and she’s really getting involved in the student government at Fenton Hall.… Sometimes I’m not sure they even remember how much we all used to love spending all our spare time here. She glanced around the stable, breathing in the familiar scents, listening to the comforting sounds. I’m not sure they really understand how important this all still is to me.

  Carole knew that her friends were aware of her dedication to horses. They knew she planned to spend her life working with horses—she had been planning that for as long as she’d known them. When they’d all been younger, the three of them had spent much of their time together discussing horses and riding. But these days, Stevie and Lisa had other interests, other concerns, and Carole occasionally suspected that they didn’t quite get her continuing preoccupation with her favorite topic.

  Ben’s the only other person near my age who never wants to talk about anything else, Carole realized, sneaking another peek at the stable hand. He was holding Belle�
��s head in both hands, his face close to hers as he spoke softly to her. Carole couldn’t help smiling slightly at the sight. Or maybe I should say he’s the only other person who never wants to talk to anything else.

  At the thought, a giggle escaped before she could stop it. Ben turned toward her, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and suspicion.

  Carole quickly arranged her face into a bland expression, not wanting him to think she’d been laughing at him. “Everyone over here seems fine,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think those two big-mouths scared anyone too badly.”

  “Good.” Ben nodded curtly.

  Carole bit back a sigh, realizing how crazy her previous thoughts had been. How could she even imagine Ben as a confidant, a true friend? Yes, he was just as wrapped up in horses as she was—but that was just the problem. He wasn’t interested in anything except horses, and that included other people.

  “Carole.”

  She had been so involved in her thoughts that she almost didn’t hear him. Suddenly realizing that Ben had spoken her name, she looked up quickly. “Huh?” she said. “Uh, I mean, what?”

  Ben took a step toward her and then stopped. “I, ah, wanted to say something,” he said gruffly, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “About, well …”

  “Yes?”

  He glanced from side to side, looking almost as trapped as that unlucky cat had been a few minutes earlier. But just when Carole thought he was going to mutter an excuse and hurry away, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “I’ve been wanting to say something.”

  His voice was so low that she automatically stepped toward him until they were standing face-to-face in the middle of the wide stable aisle. Carole felt her heart pounding, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. For some reason, she was suddenly certain that he didn’t want to discuss Prancer’s special grain ration or whose turn it was to hose down the manure pit. She waited for him to go on.

  “About Colesford.” Ben tossed his head to get his thick dark hair out of his eyes. For the first time, he met her gaze directly. “About you and—and Samson.”

  “What about us?” Carole asked, sensing that he had something important on his mind.

  “I’ve noticed you.” Ben blinked and coughed, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, I mean, I’ve noticed how much you—”

  “There you are!” a frazzled voice interrupted. Max had just rounded the corner into the aisle where they were standing. He hurried toward them. “So this is where you two are hiding out. Traitors.”

  Ben took two quick steps back from Carole and turned to face his boss. “Sorry, Max. I was—”

  “We were just on our way back—” Carole began at the same time. Laughing awkwardly, she glanced at Ben and then shot Max a contrite smile. “Sorry. We were just checking on the horses.”

  “Uh-huh.” Max looked bemused. “Well, you’d better get back in there before those little heathens decide to toss a couple of saddles on Red and Denise and turn them into bucking broncos.”

  Carole giggled at the image, though she couldn’t help wondering what Max was thinking. Something in his expression made her worry that he was jumping to some wrong conclusions about her and Ben. “We’re going, we’re going,” she hastened to assure him, doing her best to sound as cheerful and normal as possible.

  Shooting a quick glance at Ben as they followed Max down the aisle toward the indoor ring, she wondered what he’d been about to say. But whatever it was, it would have to wait. She could already hear the shouts and laughter from just ahead.

  Lisa still felt oddly unsettled as she walked the half block from the Lakes’ house to her own. She and Alex hadn’t talked much on their way home, and even though he’d kissed her good-bye as tenderly as ever, their conversation back at TD’s had left her distracted and slightly upset. She wasn’t sure what to think about what they’d said to each other, though she was glad that she’d finally managed to tell him about Thanksgiving. That was important.

  Noticing that her mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway, she paused at the mailbox by the curb. She pulled out a thick stack of mail and headed for the door, flipping through the catalogs and advertisements and absently wondering if her mother got any joy out of being on absolutely every mailing list in the world.

  She paused on the walkway when she spotted a creamy white, business-sized envelope with her own name on it. Pulling it out of the stack, she clenched it in her teeth and stuck the rest of the pile under one arm. Then she grabbed the long white envelope and checked the return address.

  “NVU,” she murmured under her breath, her eyes widening. “That was fast.” She had sent in her application to Northern Virginia University a little over a month before, knowing that as a state resident she would receive priority treatment. In fact, the school had an early-action program, which meant that they would notify her as soon as they made a decision about her application, but she wouldn’t have to respond until May, once she’d heard from all the other schools she’d applied to and made up her mind where she wanted to go.

  She slit the envelope with her fingernail and pulled out a small packet of papers. Flipping it open, she saw that the top sheet was a letter with the school’s crest emblazoned across the top.

  Dear Ms. Atwood, it began. I am very pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Northern Virginia University class of …

  She scanned the rest of the letter quickly, feeling a mild glow of pleasure sweep over her. This was an unexpected bright spot in her confusing and difficult day. Even though she hadn’t even finished all her applications yet, it was nice to know that she’d already been accepted somewhere. It would make waiting for the other responses a little easier.

  Quickly looking through the rest of the packet, she saw another letter, this time from the office of the director of the honors program. Due to your outstanding academic record, it read, you are hereby invited to enroll in the University Honors Program. You have also been awarded a merit scholarship in the amount of three thousand dollars per annum.

  Lisa’s eyes widened at the amount. She had almost forgotten the scholarship application she’d sent in along with her other materials—her guidance counselor at school had advised her not to count on receiving any money from the school, since there were only a handful of merit scholarships available.

  What do you know? she thought, stuffing the papers back into the envelope and shoving it into her jacket pocket. A chilly breeze lifted her shoulder-length blond hair, making her shiver, and she wrapped her arms around herself and hurried toward the house. That money will definitely come in handy if I decide to go there.

  But her mind was already shifting back to her earlier thoughts about Alex. She would have plenty of time to figure out what to do about college once all her applications were in. It wasn’t going to be an easy decision, but fortunately she still had months and months before she had to make up her mind.

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  About the Author

  Bonnie Bryant is the author of over one hundred forty books about horses, including the Saddle Club series and its spinoffs, the Pony Tails series and the Pine Hollow series. Bryant did not know very much about horses before writing the first Saddle Club book in 1986, so she found herself learning right along with the characters she created. She has also written novels and movie novelizations under her married name, Bonnie Bryant Hiller. Bryant was born and raised in New York City, where she still lives today.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


  Copyright © 1999 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller

  Cover design by Connie Gabbert

  ISBN: 978-1-4976-5391-7

  This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com

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