Rudy changed the subject. “I got a note from Lady Covington telling me I’m not allowed to have you on horseback except in class.”
Will resumed sweeping. “Yeah. Apparently.”
“Do you want to talk about that? That’s a lot of punishment for one person. . . .”
“No.” That was the last thing Will wanted. Why waste time talking about something that couldn’t be changed?
The tack room descended into silence as instructor and student focused on their work.
A couple days later, Kit was on her way back to her dorm room, having just taken a shower, when she saw Peaches emerge from her room next door. She was fully dressed in her uniform with her brown hair styled in simple loose curls, and she was clutching a yellow envelope carefully in both hands.
“Hey, Peaches,” Kit said. “What are you doing up so early? Did Elaine pour cold water on your head?”
“Practically,” Peaches replied. “She set my alarm for me and then totally hauled me out of bed because —” She cut herself off with a chipmunk squeak, jamming the yellow envelope inside her jacket as if Kit hadn’t obviously seen it already. “Um, nothing! Bye!” She scurried past Kit and around the corner.
What the heck was that about? Kit wondered, gazing after her. Is Elaine up to something? She decided to find out.
It wasn’t long before she and Anya were dressed and making their way to Lady Covington’s office. “But why there?” Anya asked when Kit revealed their destination.
“Because Peaches was definitely on a secret mission for Elaine,” Kit explained. “Plus, that yellow envelope smelled like flowers, and Lady C always sends messages and invitations on smelly flower paper. Elaine would totally do the same for her.” Kit knew that because the flower scent had been the reason TK had eaten her first invitation to tea with the headmistress weeks ago. “I’m betting that whatever that note is, Peaches delivered it here,” she finished as they reached Lady Covington’s office.
Kit had already established that Lady Covington was elsewhere, so she knew the office would be empty. She and Anya slipped inside as Anya whispered, “Can I just be the lookout? I’m shaking! Surely that’s a bad quality in a spy!”
Poor Anya, Kit thought. She must have lived her whole childhood without ever sneaking away from her babysitter or setting booby traps for her dad or stealing freshly baked cookies from under her mom’s nose. She grasped her friend by the shoulders and said encouragingly, “Embrace the fear.”
Anya moaned.
Kit headed straight for the headmistress’s desk. Before she even got there, she spotted the bright-yellow envelope sitting on top of a stack of mail. “I knew it!” she whispered to Anya, picking it up and taking the note out. She read over it quickly. “Elaine changed everything, including the time and the place of the tea. She’s trying to cut us out!”
“It’s today at four p.m.?” Anya said as she looked at the invitation. “We’ll never make that!”
Both girls looked up at the sound of a voice outside: “This afternoon? No, I’m sorry — I believe I’m previously engaged. Let me just check, and I’ll give you a ring.” The doorknob rattled.
Kit and Anya gaped at each other. Lady Covington was back!
As the door swung open, they did the only thing they could — they dived underneath the desk and watched as Lady Covington’s feet walked toward them. As she headed for one side of the desk, they squished more toward each other. Anya gestured in silent terror to Kit’s foot that was sticking out too far. Kit pulled it back in, trying to force her leg to bend in ways that Mother Nature hadn’t intended. As she winced in pain, she noticed that Anya’s hand was about to get squashed by a sensible black pump. She pointed wildly, and Anya snatched her hand back just in time, stifling a giggle. Kit glared at her, but Anya just shrugged back helplessly.
Lady Covington mumbled, “Oh, dear, what did I do with it?” as the girls heard the shuffling of papers on the desk. “Hm, I thought it was . . .” The headmistress’s feet stepped to the side of the desk, her right foot so close to Kit that Kit could almost see her reflection in the shoe’s shiny surface.
Suddenly Kit realized what Lady Covington was looking for — the tea invitation that was currently in her own hand! She flapped it at Anya, whose jaw dropped in horror. Before she could analyze just how risky the move would be, Kit slid the invitation right under Lady Covington’s toes.
“What on earth . . .?” The headmistress must have glanced down, because the girls heard a chuckle. “Oh, dear!” A hand appeared and picked up the invitation. “Ah, yes.” Lady Covington’s feet then moved over to a table where a phone was located. With her back now to her desk, she began to punch in a number.
This was the only chance the girls were going to get. Kit poked Anya, and they both silently scrambled out from under the desk. They backed their way to the door, hoping like mad that Lady Covington wouldn’t turn around. If she did . . . well, Kit didn’t want to go there. Anya managed to open the door without a sound, and they both slipped out as the headmistress said to her caller, “Hello? Yes, I did just check my calendar, and I am engaged this afternoon. Next week?”
Kit shut the door behind them, and Anya released a giggle. “Sorry. I always get the giggles in the face of impending doom!”
“So doesn’t matter,” said Kit. “We got it!”
Anya grimaced. “Where does she find those shoes, though? Hideous! I’ll send her some links. Anonymously, of course.”
The door opened, and Lady Covington smiled at them. It wasn’t a totally friendly smile. They were, after all, loitering in her waiting area. “I thought I heard tittering,” she said.
“Lady Covington,” Kit began, then just hung there, wondering what to say. She had to say something! “After, um, studying the weather patterns —”
“It seems that rain is in the forecast,” Anya piped up.
Kit nudged her as if to say, “Way to go!” She picked up the story with, “We were wondering if you could meet in the dining hall.”
“Would the time remain the same?” Lady Covington asked, suspicion flashing across her face. It didn’t bother Kit. She figured it was the headmistress’s job to look suspicious.
“Could we meet a little earlier?” Anya asked. “Three thirty instead of four?”
Anya, Kit thought, you are brilliant! She decided to make the request more vital by saying, “I have a riding engagement scheduled at five, which I know you wouldn’t want me to miss.”
Lady Covington, arms crossed with one finger tapping thoughtfully, finally nodded. “I’d be delighted.”
“Our pleasure,” said Anya.
Kit was so relieved that she blurted out, “So much delight . . . in — in all the pleasure of — of . . .”
Lady Covington pointed to the hallway. “Off you go.”
The girls turned obediently and marched away, huddled together and hardly believing their luck. They’d done it! They’d outsmarted Elaine! Once out of the headmistress’s sight, they high-fived each other and began to run.
In the tack room, Rudy sat at his desk going over the objectives for his next riding class when Nav appeared in the doorway. “What can I do for you, Mr. Andrada?”
“Sir.” Nav entered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to ask if I could take another student out for a hack. Um . . . Katherine, actually.”
Curious, Rudy pushed his papers aside to indicate that Nav should continue. He sensed that the boy was going to explode if he didn’t speak.
“Her riding has improved greatly,” Nav said, “and I’m guessing that she could take a break from Elaine.” That last part was said with a forced chuckle.
Rudy sensed an ulterior motive and casually leaned forward. “And you’re doing this just out of the goodness of your heart?” he asked.
Nav was caught off guard. “Sir?”
“Did you hear about Will’s punishment?”
“I did not.”
“Poor kid’s only allowed to ride in class.
Indefinitely.”
Nav glanced at the floor. Rudy could practically feel the guilt roiling around him, and he knew why. “Thing is, son, you and I both know he didn’t pull that stunt off all by himself. But he took responsibility for it. He took the heat so the rest of you wouldn’t have to. Now, I would think that trying to help your buddy out might be your biggest concern at the moment.”
Rudy felt like a teenager again as he sensed Nav’s inner turmoil — shock that his real motives had been discovered, guilt about Will’s fate, embarrassment that he had tried to take advantage of it, and confusion about what to say next. Nav finally just spun on his heels and left.
Rudy tried not to feel too bad about putting Nav on the spot like that. Being a teenager could be so hard. He’d been a real handful of trouble himself when he’d been young. He often wondered how the adults in his past had ever managed to mold him into the dependable, respectable adult that he was now.
“Dependable?” he questioned himself. “Eh. Maybe a little. Respectable?” He snorted and resumed his paperwork.
Will had put on the janitor’s coveralls about ten minutes ago, and he loathed them already. They made him feel old and tired and boxed in by rotten circumstances. Mucking out stalls was one thing. Mucking out classrooms was quite another. It was an insult, that’s what it was.
Today’s extra punishment was to clean this entire staircase and the upper floor. That meant sweeping and vacuuming and mopping and, the worst part, polishing. He parked the yellow janitor’s cart at the base of the staircase and sighed. There was nothing he could do but get started.
Nav trotted down the stairs.
“Oh, what?” Will snarled at him. “You going to stomp up and down in your boots to make sure all the steps are as dirty as possible?”
More boys appeared. Juniper Cottage boys. Josh and Leo and Alex and Wyatt. “You didn’t do the crime yourself,” Nav said as they all trooped down to Will, “so you shouldn’t have to do the time alone, either.”
“Yeah, dude,” said Josh. “We totally would have gone in with you to take responsibility. I mean, I’m waaay glad I didn’t have to. But thank you.”
Alex had already grabbed a mop, while Leo had chosen the feather duster. Wyatt took a pump sprayer of glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels. That left a broom for Josh. As for Nav, he waited until the others had trudged upstairs before addressing Will again. “Listen, I’m sorry about before. In the barn?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Will, though he knew exactly what Nav was talking about — that time days ago when Nav had asked Kit to take a ride with him, knowing that Will was up to his earlobes in chores.
“Well, anyway,” Nav said as he picked up a broom, “all for one!”
Will was now left with the dreaded polish. He smiled. It could have turned out worse.
Elaine was determined to make the Rose Cottage tea with Lady Covington a grand event. She chose a cozy yet elegantly landscaped patch of lawn with a tall hedge along one side and stone pathways on the other sides. Her team of helpers set up four tables draped in crisp white cloths and topped with pots of flowers. Elaine herself hung strings of colorful bunting from poles to add to the gaiety. Most important, only traditional English finger sandwiches, pastries, and tea were tastefully arranged on the serving table.
“We have half an hour, people,” Elaine announced, clapping her hands. “Tablecloths, napkins, tea, spit spot!”
At the same time in the dining room, Kit was at the helm arranging her barbecue-style Rose Cottage tea. Classic American red-and-white-checked cloths covered each table, along with little vases bursting with big bright marigolds. The serving table was loaded with bowls of potato chips and potato salad, plates of pickle slices, pitchers of premixed Arnold Palmers, and plastic plates, napkins, and utensils.
“This is awesome!” Kit said, encouraging her helpers. “You’re like a party-planning army!” She gave Anya, who was checking that all the plasticware was arranged properly by each plate, a double thumbs-up.
Rudy was there, too, cooking sliders on two portable grill presses. Kit was tickled to see him wearing the cook’s apron she’d found for him. He had complained that it made him look like a greasy-spoon short-order cook, to which she had replied, “Yeah, but you’re my greasy-spoon short-order cook!” That had made him laugh.
Right now Rudy wasn’t laughing, though; he was watching Miss Sally. She stood in the doorway observing the hustle and bustle of tea preparations before she noticed him. He waved his cooking tongs at her and dared a smile, knowing that she might still be upset with him. To her credit, she ambled over. “Did you know I make a mean burger?” he asked.
“Hm, that’s fascinating,” Sally responded. “And what would be required to make a nice one?”
Ouch. Rudy knew he deserved that, so he took it with grace. “It’s really all in the seasoning.” He felt awkward now, and realized in alarm that it was the same way he used to feel back when he was a teenager, all nervous and sweaty — about a girl! Oh, for cryin’ out loud. Pull it together, Bridges, he thought. “Another thing you may not know is that I get really grouchy when I’m hurt,” he confessed, some of his nerves calming at the sight of the little grin forming on Sally’s lips. “And then when people try to help me, I just . . .” He made a gesture to imply his head exploding. “I don’t . . .” He picked up his cane and gave it a shake, irritated. “I don’t like feeling helpless.”
“Ah. Is that a cowboy thing?”
“No, uh, that’s a jerk thing.” Rudy was pleased when Sally laughed. “But I will tell you the cowboy way of making it up to a lady. You make her a nice meal.”
“Fascinating,” said Sally. “And when would you typically offer a lady that sort of meal?”
“Around seven thirty?” Rudy suggested. “Maybe here in the dining hall?”
Sally’s grin widened.
Rudy grinned, too. Score!
Kit was busy keeping a lookout for Lady Covington, who suddenly appeared at the door. Kit checked her watch — spot on time, as the British said.
“Lady Covington!” Kit called. “Welcome!”
The headmistress surveyed the room in dismay. “What in the world . . .?”
Kit wasn’t at all upset by the response. She knew Lady Covington well enough at this point to guess that an indoor picnic would surprise her. But surprises are good! she thought. Sometimes you just have to shake things up.
Kit took the headmistress’s arm. “Your seat,” she said, “is right over here.” She guided the guest of honor to the head of the first table. The headmistress sat, barely holding back a freak-out as she saw the contents of the plastic plate before her. Kit totally enjoyed her reaction and barreled onward. “Welcome to our down-home barbecue! There’s potato salad and sliders!” She lifted one of the bun tops to show the meat patty beneath.
The headmistress’s dismay jumped to disgust. “Perhaps they could slide right off my plate.”
“Yeah,” Kit agreed, “and into your belly!” Refusing to dim her enthusiasm, she held up a pitcher. “And this is my specialty to wash them down.” She poured a cup for her guest. “Iced tea with a splash of lemonade!”
Lady Covington eyed the cup as if it might bite. “How many times must I explain to you that you’re not back home but rather at an elite British institution that thrives on tradition?”
Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah. “Lady Covington, I —”
“Tea is a very serious affair. One expects certain things. Hot tea, for instance. Scones.” Lady Covington said scone so that it rhymed with gone, just as Elaine had implored Kit that it should. She went on: “Finger sandwiches —”
Kit dared to interrupt her. “Well, I thought you might say something like that, so I do have some on standby.” As planned, Anya was there to hand Kit a more traditional tea serving dish upon which sat a pile of proper finger sandwiches, all with the crusts properly sliced off. “PB&J was my mom’s favorite. She used to make these for me on spec
ial occasions, and I thought today was special.” Kit watched as the headmistress struggled to hold back another complaint. You can’t say it, can you? Kit thought triumphantly. See? I listened! I paid attention to the rules! I can honor tradition, too — I just do it my own way!
With a halfhearted smile, Lady Covington reached for a sandwich, hesitated as if it might be radioactive, then finally picked it up. She nibbled at the edge.
Kit was rewarded by the tiniest smile on Lady Covington’s face. She likes it! She won’t say so, but she likes it! Woo, gotcha! She couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Please try the iced tea. You might be pleasantly surprised.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” said the headmistress, her words so heavy with sarcasm they could have sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
That didn’t faze Kit one bit. She signaled Anya, who whipped out her phone and angled herself to take a photo. Kit leaned down next to Lady Covington and plastered a full-toothed grin on her face as Lady Covington turned to Anya in shock.
Click!
The moment was captured for all to see. In this case, “all” meant Elaine.
Out on the school grounds, in the quiet garden section prepped for a traditional English teatime, Elaine paced anxiously. “It’s not like Lady Covington to be late,” she said. She pointed at one of her minions. “You! Go check her office.”
The minion took off.
Elaine pulled her mobile from her pocket to check if she might have received any messages explaining this unusual circumstance. What she saw was her guest of honor at a completely different tea! And beside her, grinning like the Cheshire cat, was Kit Bridges.
“She won’t get away with this,” Elaine hissed, and she marched straight for the dining hall.
Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen . . .
Kit waited by the door, counting down from one hundred because that seemed about the right amount of travel time for someone walking very, very fast from the gardens to the dining hall.
Competing for the Cup Page 6
