“I just talked to Max.” Lisa’s words came in such a furious rush that they were a little difficult for Carole to follow. “He told me everything, including the fact that you’ve known what’s going on for ages now and you never told me a thing. You didn’t even let me know that you knew. I had to figure it out for myself, after I’d made myself half sick worrying about Prancer—”
“Prancer?” Carole interrupted with a sinking feeling. Now she realized what this was about. Max had finally told Lisa about Prancer’s pregnancy. But why did she look so angry? Carole had guessed she would be kind of annoyed when she found out that Carole and Max had been keeping secrets, but Lisa was a rational person—almost too rational sometimes. She had to understand why they had done it. Didn’t she? “Listen, Lisa. I wanted to tell you, but I—”
“No, you listen to me.” Lisa’s voice shook. “I trusted you, Carole. When I asked you if you knew what was going on, you lied to me. You stood there and lied, right to my face!”
Carole took an abrupt step back from the stall door, stung by Lisa’s tirade. What was her problem? Behind her, Starlight tossed his head and shifted his feet, obviously a bit nervous about all the yelling.
“I didn’t lie, not exactly,” Carole returned quickly. “I mean, I didn’t mean to. If you’ll just let me explain, I can—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Lisa said, her voice as venomous as Carole had ever heard it. “You’ve had weeks to explain, weeks while I was going crazy with worry, and you blew it, Carole. You totally blew it.”
Carole didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t believe the way Lisa was acting. It was scary to see her so angry, so clearly out of control, especially since Liza was usually the calmest and most logical person she knew. Didn’t Lisa understand that Carole had a job here, a responsibility to her boss? Besides, how was she supposed to know that Lisa was so all-fired worried? It certainly didn’t show. Lisa had hardly bothered to stop by the stable for weeks as far as Carole could recall. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough,” Lisa shot back. “I know you just proved you really do care more about horses than people. You betrayed me, and real friends don’t do that.”
Carole clenched her fists. There was that tone again: uptight, judgmental, certain. Lisa was always so sure that she was right and everyone who didn’t think exactly the way she did was wrong. That might work for her in school, but it could be infuriating in real life. Just because she had spent her life being told how perfect she was—by teachers, by other adults, by just about everyone—that didn’t mean she knew what was best in every situation. After all their years of friendship, wasn’t she even going to give Carole a chance to tell her side of the story? “Oh yeah? Well, real friends don’t get hysterical and start insulting people for no reason, either!” Carole cried. “Especially when those people were just trying to do the right thing. So what kind of friend are you?”
“Aaah!” Lisa shut her eyes tightly for a moment then opened them and glared at Carole. “I can’t believe you’re trying to turn this back on me. Do you ever listen to yourself?”
At that, Carole felt hot, angry tears welling up in her eyes. This couldn’t be happening, could it? It had to be some kind of crazy nightmare. Was she really having this awful, ugly fight with one of her best friends? She willed herself not to let her tears spill over. The last thing she wanted to do was start crying in front of Lisa right now. “If I’m such a horrible person, then why are you hanging around here?” she asked as coldly as she could manage. “Maybe you should just leave, since you’ve obviously already made up your mind about this. I’m not exactly enjoying this lecture, and I’ve got work to do.”
Lisa’s eyes narrowed for a moment; then she took a step backward. “Fine.” She spun on her heel and stormed away. After a few steps, she paused just long enough to fling one final remark over her shoulder. “It’s a good thing you’re such great pals with all the horses here. At this rate, they’ll be the only friends you have left.”
Callie rolled over on her bed and glanced at her closed bedroom door. “Listen, I should probably go soon,” she whispered into the phone. “I’ve been up here for a while, and if I don’t watch out, Mom will start in on me with her we-have-a-guest speech.”
“Okay,” Stevie replied from the other end of the line. “But don’t give up on this, okay? You just have to make that first breakthrough happen, and I bet after that the rest will take care of itself. It’ll be easy. And all you have to do to get things rolling is put yourself out there, be honest with her. I know you can do it.”
“Thanks, Stevie.” Callie swung her legs over the edge of the bed and glanced down at her crutches, which were leaning against her old oak bureau. “I certainly hope you’re right.”
“Remember,” Stevie added, “you’re the only one who can make this happen. If you want it, you’ve got to go for it.”
Callie couldn’t help smiling at that. It sounded exactly like something her old endurance coach back home in Valley Vista might have said before a race. “You’re right about that,” she said. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“You’d better,” Stevie warned.
Callie said good-bye and leaned over to replace the black cordless phone on its base on the bureau. Then she grabbed her crutches and headed for the door.
She found Sheila in the large, level, fenced-in backyard, sitting in a lounge chair watching Scott, who was playing with the family dog on the wide swath of grass beyond the pool.
Callie lowered herself onto the chair beside her and took a deep breath. “Hi, Sheila,” she said, already feeling uncomfortable. “How’s it going?”
Sheila turned to glance at her, removing the dark sunglasses she was wearing. “I don’t know what you were complaining about in all those letters,” she said, stretching lazily on the lounge chair. “The weather here isn’t bad at all. It’s actually kind of nice.”
“Of course it’s beautiful now. It’s October already, remember? I wrote you those letters in July and August,” Callie replied. “Back then the humidity was about ninety-nine percent, and the temperature hit triple digits a couple of times.” She grimaced, remembering how uncomfortable all that oppressive, prickly heat had felt, especially when her leg was trapped in a thick fabric brace for part of the time. “Believe me, that’s when I was really missing that mountain climate back home.”
There was a shout and a flurry of barks from across the lawn as Scott playfully tackled the dog. “What kind of dog is Wendell again?” Sheila asked, shielding her eyes against the afternoon sunlight as the furry brown-and-white dog leaped after the tennis ball Scott had just lobbed across the yard. “I can never remember.”
So far this conversation wasn’t going quite the way Callie had intended it to. Here they were, wasting their one full afternoon together trading small talk. Callie didn’t want to let it go on any longer. It was now or never. “She’s an Australian shepherd,” she said. “But listen, Sheila. I just wanted to say I’m really glad—um, you know, that you could stop by and visit.”
Sheila glanced at her and shrugged. “Hey, me too,” she replied, slipping her sunglasses back on and crossing one leg over the other. “If I had to stay in one more bad hotel room on this trip, I probably would have screamed. Chez Forester is très more chic.”
That wasn’t exactly the response Callie had been hoping for. “You’re the only one who can make this happen.” Stevie’s words floated through her mind.
“That’s not really what I meant,” Callie said. “I just meant that it’s really great to see you, Sheila. I’ve missed you. It’s weird not hanging out with you all the time, you know?”
Sheila glanced at her. Even behind her sunglasses, her face registered surprise. “Hey, that’s sweet, Callie,” she replied, sounding uncertain. “I’ve missed you, too.”
That gave Callie strength to plunge forward. “Actually, I’ve missed you a lot. It’s been even harder than I expected, moving to
a brand-new place where I don’t know anyone except my family.”
“Well, sure.” Sheila shrugged. “I mean, the accident and everything—”
“It wasn’t just that,” Callie interrupted. “I mean, in a way that almost made it easier. Does that sound weird?” Sheila merely shrugged again, so Callie continued. “I mean, I wouldn’t have chosen to do it that way, but it kind of helped break the ice. Made people look at me as something other than the congressman’s daughter, you know?”
Sheila peered at her over the tops of her sunglasses. “I thought you liked being the congressman’s daughter.”
Callie shook her head slowly. She and Sheila had a lot of ground to make up. “I’m not surprised you thought that,” she said. “It’s what I always wanted everyone to think, because I knew there wasn’t anything I could do about it anyway.” She took a deep breath. “But actually, I hate it. I hate feeling different, having people watch everything I do and say because of Dad’s job. Sometimes it makes me want to scream, or dye my hair purple, or just do something really crazy.”
“I had no idea,” Sheila murmured, looking thoughtful. She sat up in her chair and gazed at Callie. “You should have told me this sooner. I mean, we’re friends, right?”
Callie felt her heart lift at that. Stevie had been right. This was probably the deepest, most meaningful conversation she and Sheila had ever had. And even though starting it had been difficult, it really was getting easier with every word. It still felt strange, almost unreal and a little scary to be talking to Sheila about her true thoughts and feelings. But it also gave her an exhilarating feeling of freedom and power. For the first time she could speak out, bare her soul to someone who had known her forever, without worrying about trying to sound cool or keeping the upper hand. Why had she been so uptight, so snobby and overcautious? Why hadn’t she trusted Sheila before this?
“I wish I had told you sooner,” she told Sheila. “I really do. You might be the only one who’s known us long enough to see that it’s not always easy being a member of my family.” She waved a hand at Scott, who was playing tug-of-war with Wendell over near the rosebushes. “I mean, take my brother, for example. Everyone thinks he’s so perfect and cheerful all the time, but I know better. And Mom—”
“What do you mean?” Sheila interrupted. “Don’t tell me good old Cookie is as angst-ridden as the rest of us ordinary teens.”
Callie smiled. Sheila had always had a unique way of putting things. “He’s not that bad, mostly,” she admitted. “I just get kind of fed up sometimes with his Mr. Perfect persona, you know? I mean, one time …” She trailed off and glanced over at Scott, who was well out of earshot. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this.”
“Tell me what?” Sheila demanded. “Come on, you know you can trust me.”
Callie pursed her lips uncertainly, but she couldn’t resist Sheila’s earnest expression. This is what trust is about, right? she thought, taking a deep breath. “Well, okay,” she relented. “But you can’t let anyone—especially Scott—know that I told.” At Sheila’s nod, she went on. “One time last year, Scott’s debate team lost this big competition by, like, two points or something.” She shrugged. “Actually, I don’t know how they score those things. But it was close.”
“I think I remember that.” Sheila nodded thoughtfully. “Cookie looked a little depressed for about a day, then he snapped out of it.”
“But that wasn’t really all.” Callie checked once more to make sure there was no way Scott could hear. He didn’t even know she knew about this, and she wanted to keep it that way. “The night of the debate, Mom and Dad were out at some function or other. I’d just finished a really tough workout at the stable, and I was zonked on the couch. I guess Scott thought I was asleep, or maybe he didn’t see me at all. But I saw him sneak into the dining room and take a bottle of Scotch out of the liquor cabinet.”
Sheila’s eyebrows shot up above the rims of her sunglasses. “No way!” she breathed.
Callie had kept this incident bottled up inside herself for so long that it was a relief to tell someone else about it. “He disappeared up to his room and I didn’t see him again, and the next day that bottle was back where it belonged. Half empty.”
“Didn’t your folks notice?”
“No way.” Callie shrugged. “Don’t you remember? They’re always having those impromptu cocktail parties whenever someone important drops by. And most of their friends drink like fish. There’s no way they could ever keep track of every bottle.”
Sheila shook her head slowly. “Amazing,” she said. “Was that the only time you saw him do something like that?”
“Yeah.” Callie sighed. “I just hope it was only that one time, you know?” She bit her lip, feeling the minor but nagging worry rise again. “I mean, Scott doesn’t usually even drink at parties or anything. So it was probably just a one-time thing, right? Sort of an experiment.”
“I’m sure it was.” Sheila’s eyes were sympathetic. “Anyway, I’m starting to see what you mean about your family. I’ve known you guys forever, but I guess you never really know anyone until you live with them, huh?”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it,” she said. “If Dad’s constituents could hear the way he jokes around about them—or better yet, if the other congressmen on his new welfare committee could hear the way he makes fun of them at the dinner table …” She giggled. “There’s one guy he always calls Congressman Buffoon, and another he likes to compare to moss …”
Sheila laughed. “That’s hysterical,” she declared. “Which congressmen are they? Anyone I’ve heard of?”
Callie grimaced. “I don’t know, I can’t keep track. Anyway, Dad just joined this committee recently. He was all excited about it because he thinks welfare is such a hot topic right now. He’s sure it will help his career a lot.”
“It probably will,” Sheila agreed. “I guess moving the whole family out here to the East Coast probably didn’t hurt him either, did it?”
“I guess,” Callie said. “He really seems to love it here. Sometimes I think he doesn’t miss Valley Vista at all.” She sighed. “I sure do, though. Every day. I miss the mountains, and the coastline. I miss Coach Clemson and the rest of the people at the old stable, and I miss those rocky trails where I used to train. I miss shopping at the Vista Mall, where I knew all the stores, and hanging out in the school parking lot, sitting on the hood of Richard Fisher’s car with you and Jessica and Mel and the rest of the gang.”
“Just don’t try to tell me you miss Mr. Trainor’s geometry class,” Sheila warned. “Otherwise I’ll know you’ve lost it.”
Callie grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she admitted. She leaned forward, suddenly feeling mischievous and a little bit wicked. “I’ll tell you what else I do miss, though,” she whispered. “Your cousin Mike. I’ve had a crush on him for years.”
“No way!” Sheila laughed. “Mike? For real? But he’s not your type at all.”
Callie smiled as she pictured Sheila’s cousin. Mike was in his mid-twenties, dark-haired and muscular. He was known as the black sheep of Sheila’s family, partly because he had gone to trade school instead of college and now worked as a welder, but mostly because he was famous for brawling in the local bars. “You’re right,” she said. “He’s not my type at all. But there’s just something about those biceps of his … and the way he wears those faded old jeans …”
Sheila shook her head. “I can’t believe this,” she crowed. “Cool-as-a-cucumber Callie actually has the hots for my loser cousin. This is major news.”
“If we still played that newspaper-reporter game we played when we were kids, it could be our lead story,” Callie joked. “Remember how we used to plan how we’d be famous journalists someday like Woodward and Bernstein?”
“Sure,” Sheila said. “But never mind that. I’m more interested in hearing more about this thing with Mike.”
Callie grinned. This felt good. Her relief at not having to
censor herself, not having to hold back, was almost overwhelming. There were so many things she wanted to share with Sheila now—important things, confusing things, even silly things like her crush on Mike. If only Sheila didn’t have to leave tomorrow …
NINE
“That’s great!” Stevie exclaimed into the phone. “I’m so happy for you, Callie. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye!”
She hung up the phone, feeling proud of Callie and almost as proud of herself. Callie had just filled her in on her conversation with Sheila. It sounded as though they had made a real breakthrough in their relationship, and Stevie was glad about that. Callie deserved as many true friends as she could get.
“Who was that?” Phil asked, looking up as she walked back into the den.
“You were gone long enough,” Alex added, looking disgruntled. He was leaning against the built-in bookshelves, tossing an apple from hand to hand.
“Sorry about that. It was Callie. She had to tell me something.” Stevie flopped down on the sofa beside Phil. “So did you guys have any brilliant brainstorms while I was gone?”
Phil shook his head ruefully. “Not even close,” he admitted. “We were just talking about how long A.J.’s weird behavior has been going on.”
“It’s been longer than I realized,” Alex put in, rubbing his apple against his shirt. “With school starting and everything, I didn’t even realize it, but he broke up with Julianna like four weeks ago.”
Stevie let out a low whistle. “That is a long time,” she agreed solemnly. “Way too long. So what are we going to do about it?”
“What can we do?” Phil sighed. “He made it pretty clear yesterday that he isn’t interested in talking.”
Stevie didn’t like the helpless, almost resigned tone of Phil’s voice. She hated seeing him so worried about his friend and not being able to do anything to help. “If he won’t tell us what’s wrong, we’ll just have to figure it out another way,” she said with determination. “I mean, there are only so many things that could be bothering him, right? So let’s come up with a few theories.”
Conformation Faults Page 11
