Lisa

by Bonnie Bryant

  Before the show, Max had asked us to write down some goals for each class we entered. He said that afterward, he was going to ask us what ribbon we thought we deserved—in other words, whether we thought we had lived up to the goals we’d set. He wouldn’t ask what the goals were or any other questions. It was up to us to judge ourselves. Well, I’m embarrassed to admit it, but the only goal I wrote down was the word blue, as in blue ribbon. I wrote it five times, once for each class.

  Needless to say, I didn’t come close to meeting that particular goal. At first I was going to tell Max to award me the booby prize. But after talking with my friends, I realized that wasn’t right. I certainly didn’t deserve a blue ribbon, but I thought that maybe I deserved something just for the fact that I’d figured out why my goals were wrong. So when I had my meeting with Max, I told him I thought I deserved a “most improved” ribbon, and that’s what he gave me. He didn’t ask me any questions about my goals, just as he’d promised, though from the way he smiled at me I think he sort of suspected what had happened. He’s a pretty smart man.

  The show was this past Saturday. Next week is my winter break from school, so maybe I’ll have time to write more then. In the meantime, good luck with your writing. Please let me know how the screenplay is going and also if you need to know anything in particular from me. I told Carole and Stevie about it, and they’re both just as thrilled as I am at the thought that we could inspire a movie!

  Love,

  Lisa

  P.S. Do you still like peanut butter and banana sandwiches?

  Dear Diary,

  Three more days until winter break! And my creative writing assignment is finished already. I decided I’m definitely going to use my letter to Peter. I’m going to turn it in tomorrow. I hope Ms. Shields likes it. But even more, I hope Peter likes it. I feel as though I’ve finally figured out how to be myself when I write to him. I’m glad about that for a couple of reasons. For one thing, it means we may finally be able to start really communicating with each other—maybe even get back to being as close as we were when we were kids. Closer, actually. I mean, back when I was following him around everywhere, it was more like hero worship than a real, equal relationship. The other reason I’m glad is that my letters from now on should give Peter a much better idea about how people my age really think. That should help him a lot with his screenplay.

  Let’s see, what else is happening? Carole and her father are getting ready to leave for Florida in three days. Carole is looking forward to seeing her relatives and everything, but I think she’s also a little bit sad that she’ll miss a whole winter break of riding every day at Pine Hollow. Oh well—I can’t feel too sorry for her. Going to sunny Florida, hanging out at Disney World and lying on the beach, sounds like a pretty good way to spend winter break to me! Still, Stevie and I will miss her.

  What else? Today in riding class we worked on balancing, and then in jump class—

  Oh! I almost forgot to mention that we had a new student in class today. Her name is Alice Jackson, and she’s from Ohio, but she’s visiting her grandmother, who lives here in Virginia. She’ll be riding at Pine Hollow for a week during her school’s winter break. (Alice, that is, not her grandmother!) She’s very nice, and she’s a good rider, too. There’s just one thing about her that’s kind of strange—she didn’t want to stick around for jump class, even though she seemed to enjoy herself in the flat class. She was very definite about it. She just kept saying she didn’t want to stay, and when we tried to find out why, she said, “I don’t jump,” without any other explanation.

  Still, I guess she’s probably in a pretty weird mood, and I can’t blame her for that. The reason she’s staying with her grandmother is that her parents are having some problems. Alice is afraid they’re going to get a divorce. She’s really upset and worried about it.

  I can’t even imagine what she’s going through. It gave me a sort of unhappy tingling feeling in my stomach just listening to her talk about it. Having your parents get divorced must be just about the most awful thing in the world. I only wish there was something I could do to help her. We talked about it a little at TD’s after lessons, but the only thing we decided was that we wanted to know why Alice didn’t want to jump.

  I’ll have to think about it some more. Maybe we can make helping her a Saddle Club project. I guess it will just be a two-thirds Saddle Club project, though, since Carole is leaving on Friday and Stevie and I won’t see Alice again until our next riding class on Saturday.

  Dear Diary,

  Today’s riding class was fun. Alice came again, just as she said she would, and Stevie had the great idea of having her ride Starlight, since Carole is away. We were sure she would approve, and as it turned out, Max approved, too. He came over to talk to her just before the start of class.

  “I watched you in class on Tuesday, Alice,” he said, “and I know you’re a good rider. Starlight has a mind of his own, though. You’ll have to be a little careful.”

  “I will be. I promise,” Alice said. “Besides, I always am careful.”

  “She’ll do fine,” Stevie told Max reassuringly. “As a matter of fact, I’m so sure she’ll do fine that I think she should come along on the trail ride that Lisa and I are planning to take this afternoon.”

  She was just full of good ideas! That’s Stevie for you. I waited to hear what Max would say.

  He looked amused, as he often does when Stevie is around. “We’ll see how she does in class,” he said.

  But Alice was shaking her head. “I can’t do it,” she said. “I have to do something with my grandmother this afternoon.”

  “Tomorrow?” Stevie said, not missing a beat.

  “Great!” Alice replied with a smile.

  Max looked at his watch, which meant the discussion was over for the moment. It was time for class to start.

  Alice loved Starlight, of course. She didn’t have any trouble controlling him at all, which didn’t surprise me a bit after what I’d seen of her riding skills on Tuesday.

  Then, about halfway through the class, something weird happened. We started a new exercise where we were supposed to ride in and out between some cones, jumping over a few very low obstacles along the way. The first time, we did it at a walk. Since the obstacles were only about six inches high, getting over them at a walk involved more of a high step than a jump. We all did fine at that, including Alice, though I noticed that she slowed Starlight down to a really slow walk right before he reached the little jumps.

  Then we moved up to a trot. This time there was definitely a difference when Alice reached the jumps. Even though she’d ridden effortlessly through the little course marked out by the cones, she took Starlight back to a walk again right before she reached the jumps. She had him step over them slowly, just like the first time.

  She was just a guest at Pine Hollow, so nobody said too much. But it was very strange, and Stevie and I were both wondering about it in a big way. After all, we’d ridden through the same course ourselves. It really wasn’t very hard, and Alice is a good rider. There was no reason we could imagine for her behavior.

  And if I was curious, Stevie was … well, what’s a word that means curious times about a thousand? Because that’s what she was.

  We decided to discuss it during our trail ride after class. As soon as class was over we grabbed our brown-bag lunches and headed out, starting down the trail leading to our favorite picnic spot by the creek. We didn’t talk much on the way, knowing that we could sit back and discuss Alice’s weird behavior much more easily once we were settled on the banks of Willow Creek with our food.

  Along the way we came across a small tree trunk that had fallen across the trail. It was windy last night, and it must have toppled over then. In any case, it made a perfect natural obstacle where we could practice our jumping, and we proceeded to do so. It was fun—for some reason, jumping the obstacles that Mother Nature sets up is always more fun than jumping the ones that plain old humans have construct
ed in a ring or field.

  When we were almost to our lunch spot, we slowed our horses so they could cool down, and then we started to talk about Alice.

  “I wonder if she’s ever even tried to jump,” I mused, the memory of flying over that fallen tree trunk still in my mind. “Or if she’s had a bad experience with it. Maybe she’s just afraid. Some people have fears that don’t make any sense, you know.”

  “Like my fear of exams?” Stevie asked.

  “Not exactly,” I replied with a grin. “Your fear of exams isn’t irrational. See, if you don’t keep up with your homework or pay attention in class—”

  “Spare me!” Stevie exclaimed, breaking into giggles. “I’m on vacation.”

  “Anyway,” I went on more seriously, “it’s not the same thing as with Alice. Somehow, for some reason, she’s convinced that she shouldn’t jump. I wonder if it could be connected with her family situation—like maybe she’s afraid of what’s happening with her parents and that makes her afraid of other things, too, like jumping.”

  I thought it was a pretty good theory, and Stevie agreed. That led us to talk a little about Alice’s parents, how scary divorce was, and serious stuff like that. Soon after, we reached the creek, so we spent the next few minutes settling the horses in a grassy clearing and taking out our lunches.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Stevie announced when we were comfortably seated on a big rock at the edge of the creek. “About Alice.”

  I guessed one thing she might be thinking, because I was thinking it, too. “Should we bring her here tomorrow when we go on our trail ride?”

  “Yes, I think so,” Stevie said. “It’s such a pretty place, even in this cool weather, that it always makes me feel better. It will probably have the same effect on her.”

  “Good idea.” I bit into my sandwich, imagining Alice’s reaction to the pleasant little spot. Maybe a babbling brook and majestic trees couldn’t help her family stay together, but at least it might help her have a pleasant afternoon without worrying too much.

  Stevie wasn’t finished, though. “And I also think,” she said slowly and carefully, “that we should bring her the same way we came.”

  “The same way?” I said. “But there’s that—”

  I didn’t finish the sentence. I suddenly realized what Stevie was thinking. That fallen tree—it was perfect! It formed a natural obstacle that was only about two feet high. Any well-trained horse would simply jump it as a matter of course. And any experienced rider would have no trouble managing the jump.

  “It’s going to be perfect,” Stevie said. “It’ll just be there. I’ll be in front, so she won’t be able to see it until I’ve been over it, and she’ll be just a few feet behind me. Starlight’s the best jumper in the stable. He won’t be able to resist it, no matter what Alice says, especially if she doesn’t have much warning.”

  “And I’ll be behind her,” I said thoughtfully. “So in case anything does happen, I’ll be right there. She’s such a good rider, she’s sure to react naturally to the jump, and she’ll go over it smoothly.”

  “With some help from Starlight,” Stevie said. “I wouldn’t trust any other horse to do this, you know.”

  “I know. He’s the perfect choice,” I agreed. I was feeling excited about our plan. “Alice is sure to realize how silly she’s been about jumping. It’s like we’re opening up a whole new world of possibilities for her on horseback. She’s going to love it!”

  “It won’t exactly make up for the fact that her parents are splitting,” Stevie pointed out.

  “But it will give her something else to think about,” I concluded.

  After we finished eating, we spent the rest of the afternoon fixing up the jump to make it perfect. I know I just said the best jumps are straight from Mother Nature, but in this case we decided she could use a little help. We moved the fallen tree trunk a little way down the trail so that it’s just around a bend, impossible for Alice to see ahead of time. We also made sure it was nice and low and perfectly safe.

  I can’t wait to put our plan into action tomorrow. It’s great to think that we found a new friend who has a problem and that we can do something about it. That’s what The Saddle Club does best! I only wish Carole could be here with us …

  I wonder how Carole’s doing in Florida? I miss her already, even though she just left yesterday. She probably hardly has time to miss us at all, though. She told me and Stevie that she’s staying with her father’s sister, Aunt Joanna, and her husband and daughter. The daughter, Carole’s cousin Sheila, is sixteen years old, and she has a pony. I think she’s had the same pony for a long time, actually—so long that she’s pretty much outgrown him. At least that’s what it sounds like to me.

  But what do I know? I only have one cousin whom I’ve ever met, and she’s only nine years old. It would be cool to have cousins who shared my interests, the way Carole and Sheila share a love of horses. And it would be cool to have a big family like Carole’s. Besides about a million relatives on her dad’s side down in Florida, she has a whole bunch of relatives from her mother’s side who live in Minnesota and North Carolina and I don’t even know where else. It must be nice to have so many people related to you.

  Oh well, I guess I’ll have to settle for the family I have. Speaking of family, I mailed my letter to Peter the same day I turned it in for my writing assignment. I’m sure I’ll get a decent grade on the assignment, but now that it’s in the mail, I’m not so sure how Peter is going to react to his copy. I’m a little nervous, actually. I mean, I want his screenplay to be good and interesting and true to life. But do I really want all my most serious innermost thoughts and feelings—not to mention my big, embarrassing blunders, like what happened with Prancer—splashed up on the silver screen for all to see?

  Oh well—too late to start worrying about that now, I guess.

  Dear Diary,

  Wow, I guess it’s been a couple of weeks since I wrote last. I’ve been so busy I’ve hardly had time to think about it, but I really want to write down what happened with Alice Jackson.

  I have a little time to write today, since Mom’s off at her job at the mall and my homework is finished except for my creative writing assignment. This time it’s what Ms. Shields calls creative nonfiction. The topic is people helping people. I’ll have to figure out what to write about soon.

  But back to Alice for the moment. I’m trying to think back and remember exactly how it happened. I remember that Stevie and I were super excited that Sunday when we got to the stable. We couldn’t wait to put our little plan into action, but we were careful not to give Alice any hints.

  Well, I was careful, anyway. Stevie couldn’t resist entirely. “You’re going to love the trails here,” she told Alice as we set out. “They’re beautiful and fun to ride. They always seem to have surprises for us, too.”

  Alice seemed a little nervous at that. I think she was afraid we would get lost. But we hurried to reassure her. Then we just rode along comfortably, chatting about this and that. Alice was really nice and friendly, which made me feel even better about what we were trying to do.

  Little did I know how badly it would backfire. Don’t get me wrong—the plan worked exactly as we had wanted it to. We moved into a canter about fifty yards before the bend in the trail. Alice and Starlight were about twenty yards behind Stevie and Topside. I was bringing up the rear as planned. I came around the curve just in time to see Starlight clear the jump with no trouble at all. The only thing that didn’t come out right was Alice’s reaction.

  “Wasn’t that wonderful?” Stevie called to Alice as she brought Starlight to a halt past the jump. “You did it perfectly. We knew you would. You’re a natural jumper!”

  Barq jumped easily over the log and I urged him forward to join the others. “Jumps in a ring are fine, but the best ones are the natural obstacles,” I told Alice happily. “Starlight knew just what to do, didn’t he?”

  Just then I started to realize that Alice hadn’t
said anything at all since the jump. That was my first indication that maybe something was wrong.

  “Are you all right?” I asked her.

  “Of course she’s all right.” Stevie waved a hand as if to dismiss the question. “She jumped like the champion we knew she would be.”

  Finally Alice spoke. “You planned this?” she asked us. “You intentionally put that log where I wouldn’t see it so Starlight would just go over it?”

  “It took a while to find the right place,” Stevie said, still oblivious to Alice’s expression, which I noticed was growing stormier with every second. “But we obviously picked the perfect one, right?”

  “Perfect for what?” Alice said so sharply that even Stevie looked at her in surprise.

  “Perfect to show you that jumping is wonderful and you have all the skills you need to do it very well,” Stevie answered, sounding a little defensive.

  “And who asked you to do it and said it would be okay?” Alice demanded. By now there was no mistaking the fact that she was very angry. “Max Regnery wasn’t behind this, was he?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Max didn’t know anything about it. It was our idea. We thought it was a good one.”

  “You thought wrong,” Alice said bluntly. Without another word, she turned Starlight around and began walking him back down the trail in the direction we’d come. She had him step back over the tree trunk very carefully.

  “Alice?” I called after her, still not quite sure what we’d done wrong.