“You mean you’re not armed?” Chad’s voice was so sarcastic that I glanced at my parents, expecting them to scold him. After all, we had a guest. But they were both busy with their food and didn’t say a word.
So it looked as though I was the only one who could come to Phil’s rescue. I took a deep breath to calm myself down. “Nobody on a fox hunt is armed,” I said. “The hunt is just a good excuse for a cross-country ride with your friends over fences and through fields.”
“Right,” Phil agreed. “The exciting part is that you never know where the hunt is going to go. It’s not like going on a trail ride.”
“It sounds very exciting to me,” Alex said. He glanced over at Dad. “I don’t know that we should allow Stevie to go on this thing. She’s so excitable—”
“Ahem,” my mom said. I grinned. It was a subtle signal, but an unmistakable one—a signal that my brothers were pushing it. Alex and Chad got it. Unfortunately, Michael didn’t. I guess he’s too young for such subtlety.
“Didn’t you say the only reason Stevie wanted to do this was because Phil’s doing it?” he said loudly.
I think I sort of lost consciousness for a few seconds after that. That happens sometimes when I get really mad at my brothers—I’m concentrating so hard on thoughts of revenge that everything else just sort of fades away. It’s like I have no control.
I tuned back in just in time to hear another “Ahem,” this one from my dad and a lot louder. “I think it’s time to change the subject,” he went on. “In fact, if we don’t change the subject, I think I may disinvite certain family members to the circus, which is coming to town in two weeks.”
I’m sure you remember the Emerson Circus, Miss Fenton. It was here in Willow Creek until just last weekend. My whole family loves going every year, so my dad’s threat was quite effective in silencing all three of my brothers.
For the moment at least.
FROM: HorseGal
TO: Steviethegreat
SUBJECT: I’m not Carole
MESSAGE:
Hi, Stevie! This isn’t Carole writing—it’s me, Colonel Hanson. Carole let me use her e-mail account to send you a message. I thought you might be interested to know that I saw your headmistress, Miss Fenton, at the zoning board meeting I attended tonight. When she found out I knew you, she had quite a bit to say. It seems she thinks you’re one of her brightest students, and that you have a lot of talent and creativity. (She also thinks I should send Carole to Fenton Hall instead of to public school, but that’s another story. Ha ha!)
Anyway, I thought you would like to know how highly your headmistress thinks of you, especially since Carole tells me you’re doing some kind of extra assignment for her now. You’ll have to tell me all about it the next time you come over to the house for one of your Saddle Club sleepovers!
Bye!
Welcome to My Life …
After dinner, Phil and I left the house for the walk over to Pine Hollow. I was looking forward to the meeting, but I was also looking forward to that walk with Phil. Since he lives way over in Cross County, we don’t get to spend nearly enough time together—especially time alone. It was a cool evening, and I slipped my hand into his right away and moved a little closer as we walked. He squeezed my hand back and looked down at me with those gorgeous green eyes of his. Sometimes I think I could look into those eyes forever. They’ve so deep, and compassionate, and understanding, just like Phil himself. And then there’s the rest of his face. His cute smile, his hair …
AAAAAH!!!! What am I, crazy? There’s no way I can let Miss Fenton read that. Or anyone! (Especially not my brothers—why did I type this on the typewriter instead of waiting till Mom was done with the computer, so I could just delete it? And why oh why don’t Mom and Dad have a paper shredder? Oh, well—there’s always the good old toilet.)
Welcome to My Life … (revised)
After dinner Phil and I walked briskly over to Pine Hollow. I was happy to spend time with him, but I was still thinking about my brothers. I really, really, really wanted to murder them; no, torture them, nice and slow, with plenty of
I was very annoyed with them. It made me want to rip their eyeballs out and stuff them down
But I put that out of my mind. I concentrated on the upcoming meeting instead. When Phil and I got to Pine Hollow, we found a crowd already gathered in Max’s office. Practically all of Horse Wise was there, along with all of Cross County, including their instructor, Mr. Baker. We quickly spotted Carole and Lisa and grabbed spots near them on the floor. The office was so full it was practically bursting at the seams—and I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. Nobody wanted to miss a word of this meeting.
Mr. Baker spoke first, explaining that the main purposes of a mock hunt were to have fun and learn about hunting. Riders would be assigned jobs. One would be the fox, another would be the master of the hounds, one would be the huntsman, several would be whippers-in, others would be hounds. Anybody who didn’t get one of those jobs would be what Mr. Baker called the field. Then he went on to explain some foxhunting terms, like “huntsman” and “whippers-in.” Of course, I already knew what they all meant, since I had carefully studied the memo Max had handed out at Horse Wise earlier, just like the responsible and thirsty-for-knowledge person I am. But I listened to it all again, just to be polite.
“And now Max has a few words for you,” Mr. Baker said at last, turning the meeting over to Max.
Max explained that we were all supposed to show up at Pine Hollow by seven-thirty on Saturday morning, that the mock hunt would begin at eight-thirty, and that we’d need every possible millisecond of that hour in between for tacking up and final organizing. He also told us how some of the roles would be chosen.
“The job of master will go to the person who has shown the most work on learning about fox hunts. We’ll also choose a huntsman, a few whippers-in, and someone devious to be the fox,” he said.
My ears kind of perked up at that. Devious? That sounded interesting.
Max continued. “There’s one final thing I can’t say too often, so I’m going to say it now, and I’ll say it again and again until I’m sure you all understand. A fox hunt—even a mock one—is something we can do only with the permission of the landowners around Pine Hollow and Cross County. Mr. Baker and I have spent some time making arrangements with these people so our hunts aren’t confined to our own land. We’ll be riding on other people’s property with their specific permission, and we must never forget that we’re their guests. We will ride only where we are permitted, when we are permitted. We will leave all gates exactly as we found them and the land exactly as we found it. Anyone who violates these rules will be dismissed from the hunts immediately. There will be no exceptions. Am I making myself clear?”
Everybody nodded.
“Any questions?” Max asked.
Veronica diAngelo (you know her, Miss Fenton, so I’m not going to bother to describe her personality) raised her hand. “Isn’t there traditionally a party after a hunt?” she asked.
Max nodded and explained that Horse Wise would be hosting a hunt breakfast after the mock hunt. That sounded nice and all, but I for one was a lot more excited about the mock hunt itself than some silly breakfast buffet. I couldn’t wait. It was sure to be one of the most exciting things Horse Wise had ever done!
Still, before I could turn my full attention to looking forward to that, there was one other thing on my mind, one little thing I had to take care of—revenge. There was no way I could let my brothers get away with their horrible behavior at dinner that evening.
There was one thing I had to take care of settling the score with my brothers. They totally deserved it, don’t you think? And I was pretty mad, mad enough to wreak horrible
There was one thing I had to take care of getting even with my brothers. I know some people wouldn’t understand if they don’t have brothers of their own, but I couldn’t let their unseemly behavior pass.
There was one thing I had t
o take care of retaliation. It was only right. How could I let my brothers get away with
There was one thing I had to take care of my brothers. The Bible states, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” I looked it up just now, and it even says something about “a hand for a hand and a foot for a foot.” So it wasn’t like I was the first one who wanted to rip
STEPHANIE,
DO YOU BY ANY CHANCE KNOW WHY THE UPSTAIRS TOILET OVERFLOWED THIS MORNING? THERE SEEMED TO BE A LOT OF LITTLE BITS OF PAPER COMING UP FROM THE DRAIN, AND CALL ME CRAZY, BUT I WOULD SWEAR I SPOTTED THE NAME “PHIL” ON ONE OF THEM. YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT. BUT IF YOU DO, YOU WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULL EXTENT OF THE LAW.
MOM
FROM: Steviethegreat
TO: PhilmStar
SUBJECT: Moral dilemma
MESSAGE:
I’m running into some trouble with my paper, and I wasn’t sure who else to ask about it. You see, it’s kind of a moral dilemma. I’m just getting to the foxhunting stuff, which you would think would be a pretty easy section to write about since it just happened. And the actual foxhunting parts are pretty easy.
But this report is supposed to be about my whole life during that time. It really has to be so Miss Fenton can understand why all that homework couldn’t possibly have gotten done. And part of what was happening during the time of the fox hunt was my little feud with my brothers. I was trying to write down how that all got started, and of course technically they started it by being such jerks that night you came to dinner. Remember?
So that part was easy. It’s what happened next that’s turning out to be a problem. I mean, you know and I know that what my brothers did was totally inexcusable—I had to get my revenge. No question. But I’m afraid Miss Fenton won’t see it that way. She may think it’s my fault because of the stuff I did to them next. (Especially since I don’t think she ever found out about any of it, even though it mostly happened at school.) And then there’s the stuff that happened a little later with Veronica.…
So basically I don’t know if I can be totally honest about my motives after that dinner. If I tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, Miss Fenton may decide I’m a horrible person—she might not be able to handle it. But if I don’t tell the truth about everything I was thinking and feeling, nothing that happens in the story will make much sense, and more importantly, she’ll never be able to understand how completely caught up I was in the whole thing. And that means she definitely won’t understand why I didn’t have enough time to study for my big math test or finish my science lab report.
I’m especially worried because Carole’s dad saw Miss Fenton at some meeting last night, and he said she kept talking about how bright and talented and creative I am. She actually used those words! So if she thinks I’m so great, this report had better be REALLY great, right? Or she’ll decide I’m “not working up to my potential” (she’s been telling my parents that for years) and send me to summer school. And then I can kiss Topside good-bye for the next three months.
But will she be more likely to think it’s great if she thinks I’m a great person who would never stoop to something petty like revenge? Or will she think it’s great if I tell the truth, give her the full inside story, and really let her understand why I did the things I did?
FROM: PhilmStar
TO: Steviethegreat
SUBJECT: Re: Moral dilemma
MESSAGE:
I think you answered your own question. The whole purpose of this assignment is to make Miss Fenton understand why your work didn’t get done. And like you said, there’s no way she can get that unless she knows about everything that happened and what you were thinking about it all.
I can understand why you’re worried about it. I think the whole sibling rivalry thing (my parents are ALWAYS talking about sibling rivalry!) is pretty hard for anyone to understand who hasn’t been there. And you and your brothers—well, let’s just say you don’t pull any punches.
But this is Miss Fenton we’re talking about, remember? I know you sometimes talk about her as if she’s this frail, genteel, little old lady. But I think she’s tougher than that—after all, hasn’t she dealt with you and your brothers up until now? I mean, I don’t even go to Fenton Hall and some of the stories make me shudder! (Ha ha!) For instance, I seem to remember hearing about the time a few years ago when the four of you got in that huge water fight in the hall and Miss Fenton ended up turning Alex upside down and physically carrying him off to break it up. Then there was the time in third grade when you and Dinah spent all your time pretending to be horses and “galloping” around the halls, and Miss Fenton brought a couple of bridles to school and threatened to make you wear them if you didn’t stop. (And then she actually let you wear yours for a full week when you insisted you didn’t mind, until she finally rubbed the bit with boiled carrots to convince you to stop.) And what about the story of how you and Veronica were fighting about something, and Miss Fenton figured out that you were the one who started that rumor about Veronica secretly being a dangerous forty-five-year-old mobster named Guido the Hun who was posing as a snobby schoolgirl as part of the Witness Protection Program …
Shall I go on? Or have I managed to convince you of what you should know already—namely, that your headmistress can handle anything you dish out in this report, and more?
Honesty Clause
(Miss Fenton: Please read this before opening this report)
The purpose of this assignment is to give you a firsthand report of my life for the past couple of months. Therefore, I am striving to be as completely honest as possible in all the facts I set down here. Honesty is an important factor in telling my story—even though some of the things I’m being honest about might not be the kinds of things I would normally tell anyone, let alone a headmistress who holds the power of life and detention over me. Not to mention summer school.
Therefore, Miss Fenton, I ask you to read my story with an open mind and an unjudging heart. And please understand my sincere hope that nothing I say here will be used against me, no matter how shocking, no matter how unexpected. Because it’s all the truth, and the truth should set us free.
Welcome to My Life …
Before I could turn my full attention to looking forward to the mock hunt, there was one other thing on my mind, one little thing I had to take care of—revenge. There was no way I could let my brothers get away with their horrible behavior at dinner that evening. Revenge isn’t always pretty, but sometimes it’s necessary, at least where my brothers are concerned. So I spent quite a bit of time that weekend pondering exactly what to do to them.
One thing I was aiming for was a safe escape for myself. I was certain that vengeance was necessary in this case, but I wasn’t sure that my parents (or, for that matter, you, Miss Fenton—I said I was going to be honest here, right?) would see it the same way. So my goal was to totally humiliate my brothers without letting them know—for sure—who was responsible. They would know, of course. Make no mistake about that. But they wouldn’t be able to prove anything, and that would be the truly beautiful part.
My mind was brimming with plans that Monday morning when I got to school. The only problem was that my ears were brimming with the sound of Veronica diAngelo’s voice. In case you didn’t realize it, Miss Fenton, Veronica and I aren’t exactly the closest of chums. So I have no idea why she decided to torture me with her chatter. I guess just because I was the first person she saw that day who also rode at Pine Hollow. In any case, she latched on to me almost the second I stepped through the school doors and followed me down the hall toward my locker, babbling on and on about what a good idea the fox hunt was because it was what all the “finest families” did. Veronica seems to think she belongs to one of the “finest families,” though what she really means when she says that is one of the “richest families.” And I, for one, don’t think that being rich automatically makes you fine. Veronica is a perfect example of that.
&nbs
p; Finally I’d had all I could take of her snobby bragging about “finest families.”
“Finest families?” I said innocently. “Well, I guess that lets you out. After all, you just come from a tiny little family with one spoiled daughter. My family has four fine children. I guess that makes us a fine family, doesn’t it?”
Veronica gave me a withering look, then walked faster to catch up to some girls walking ahead of us. That was just “fine” with me. It allowed me to go back to enjoying the start of what I was sure was going to be a perfectly wonderful day, despite the fact that I hadn’t quite completed the reading assignment for English and really hadn’t understood the math problems I was supposed to have done. But my mind was so filled with my extremely creative and talented plans for revenge that I didn’t think much about that other stuff.
Ms. Milligan was out sick that particular day, so we had a study hall instead of English class. That gave me plenty of time to put the finishing touches on a few little signs. Then I asked to be excused to go to the girls’ room.
When I got there, I pulled the first sign out of my backpack. I had typed them neatly on my family’s computer the night before. (Mom thought I was working on my English assignment—although in my own defense, I never actually told her that. All I did was walk into the den carrying my copy of Great Poems of the Nineteenth Century and ask to use the computer. Can I help it if she jumped to conclusions?)
All the signs I made that day except one copy of this first one have, sadly, been destroyed. I have taken a great risk of losing this remaining precious memento of my cleverness by taking this sign out of deep hiding in order to copy it here:
ATTENTION ALL NINTH-GRADE GIRLS
Chad Lake has a new girlfriend. Her name is Valerie Ann Jones and she goes to Willow Creek High School. His previous girlfriend, as many of you know, was Virginia Ames. He carved Virginia’s initials on his lacrosse stick. He’s now added a “J” to that and has told Valerie that he just put her initials on his stick. Doesn’t she deserve to know the truth? Call her at 555-3992 and tell her!
Stevie Page 17
