Chocolate Horse (6 page)

Stevie didn’t care what they were thinking. All she knew was that her brother was ill and she had a job to do to see that he got better.

Miss Fenton dismissed the assembly. The bell rang. It was time for math class.

Miss Snyder always began the class by having the students correct one another’s homework papers.

“Okay, everybody swap papers,” she said. She did allow the students to choose which other student got to look at the work they’d done, which had often spared Stevie the humiliation of having somebody she didn’t like sneer at her mistakes. Stevie was reaching for her bag with her assignment in it when Miss Snyder suggested that she just look on with somebody else.

“But I’ve got the assignment here,” she said, producing it.

“You do?” The teacher was clearly surprised. Stevie knew she was recalling dozens of weak excuses she’d heard from Stevie, and that she’d just assumed Stevie wouldn’t have gotten her homework done in the face of a real problem.

“Sure,” she said. “I had a lot of time to work at the hospital yesterday. It was pretty quiet, so I just did my work.”

“Well, uh, good,” Miss Snyder said. “Very good.” She smiled, her surprise turning to pleasure.

That made Stevie feel good. Finally somebody was appreciating her new way of living her life. That must mean that it was working. She was sure Alex must feel her own happiness at the new and improved Stevie.

It turned out that she
was
a new and improved
Stevie, because she got eighteen of the twenty problems correct. Miss Snyder was even more pleased by that than she was by the fact that Stevie had done them.

“
Very
good,” she said to Stevie as the members of the class filed out. “I knew you could do it.”

“I have to work extra hard these days,” Stevie replied. “See, I’m going to have to help Alex catch up when he gets better.”

“Yes,” said Miss Snyder. “I understand.”

Some of Stevie’s other teachers didn’t understand as well as Miss Snyder did. They weren’t used to the new Stevie, and a few of them even indicated that they didn’t
believe
the new Stevie—as if this were just another one of her practical jokes. They’ll see, eventually, Stevie told herself, especially when her history teacher graded her test. She was pretty sure she had aced it.

As soon as the last class was over, Stevie checked to make sure she knew what all her assignments were, and then she selected the books she’d need, made sure she had paper and sharp pencils, straightened out her locker, and left for the hospital.

Chad and Michael got out of school at the same time, but they were going home. Stevie didn’t want to waste any time at home when Alex needed her by his bedside.

She got a lift from a parent who lived near the hospital.
She was there by three-thirty—the hour she usually arrived at Pine Hollow.

Alex was still sleeping. Beverly, the nurse, told Stevie that he seemed to be doing well.

“His fever is down a little,” Beverly said.

“But he’s still unconscious.” Stevie had been hoping that he’d be more improved by now.

“There is no way to predict how long he’ll be unconscious,” Beverly reminded Stevie. “You have to look for other signs. The fever dropping is a good sign. It means the antibiotics are working.”

“Oh.”

When Stevie was satisfied that Alex was comfortable and everything needed had been done for him, she made a quick call to Pine Hollow. She knew her friends would be worried about Alex and wondering about her. Mrs. Reg answered the phone. Stevie told her what was happening and explained that she wouldn’t be riding for a while. Mrs. Reg seemed to understand. She told Stevie that Lisa and Carole were just in the paddock and offered to call them to the phone. Stevie said no, she didn’t have time for that now. Mrs. Reg sounded surprised at that, but Stevie didn’t offer any explanation. Stevie said a hurried good-bye and then settled down on the bench she’d claimed as her own the night before and began her assignments.

In spite of all the activity around her, Stevie found it very easy to concentrate on her work. She was determined that the only thing that would distract her would be Alex, so she allowed herself to stand up and look through the glass at her resting brother every five minutes—or after every math problem when she was doing math.

Once she thought that Alex had changed positions. She wasn’t absolutely certain, but he seemed to be comfortable. That was what was important.

At about five-thirty her mother arrived. She’d been there earlier and she was coming back, just to check on Alex and to bring Stevie home.

“He’s better, I think,” Stevie said to her mother. “Beverly told me that his temperature is down. That’s a good sign.”

Her mother nodded. “Yes, it is,” she said. “Very good.” Her mother put her arm around Stevie’s shoulder, and the two of them looked through the glass at Alex.

“It’s time to go home,” Mrs. Lake said. “Dinner. Dad’s cooking. He wanted to make a meat loaf.”

“I’m staying here,” Stevie said. “You can bring me something later.” Much as she wanted to be with Alex, she wasn’t completely willing to miss her father’s meat loaf.

“No, I want you to come home,” said Mrs. Lake. “We should all have dinner together tonight.”

Stevie began to protest. She really felt her place was with Alex, but she remembered that part of her promise to herself about self-improvement was that she wasn’t going to be a fussy nuisance anymore. If her mother wanted her home, then she would go home. She packed up her books neatly, and the two of them left together.

Stevie found that Michael had set the table. Usually he hated setting the table and did anything he could to get out of it. Stevie wasn’t at all surprised. Michael must be feeling a little bit the way she was. Chad, on the other hand, was up in his room, reading
The Yearling
. It had been his favorite book when he was ten.

Stevie put the glasses on the table and poured milk. When Mr. Lake pronounced dinner ready, everybody came to the table.

“How’s Alex?” Chad asked Stevie. She told him she thought he was a little better because his fever was down and he’d moved some.

“Wow, Dad’s meat loaf!” Michael said enthusiastically.

Michael had already known what was for dinner. It seemed odd that he would express surprise at this point. But Stevie understood. She found, in fact, that she understood a lot of things. She understood that every
member of her family was worrying about Alex in his or her own way. Dad was cooking; Michael was pitching in; Chad was hanging out by himself; and Stevie was staying by Alex’s bedside. Stevie wasn’t sure how her mother was coping until she saw the gigantic pile of freshly ironed sheets. Her mother
never
ironed sheets. They always used them just the way they came out of the laundry.

Stevie understood, too, that when Alex got better, everybody would probably revert to their old selves—everybody, that was, except Stevie. She was a better person, and she was determined to stay that way.

The family ate in silence, nobody knowing what to say, except for the frequent compliments to Mr. Lake for his meat loaf.

“I never make it the same way twice,” he said. That’s what he always said.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Stevie volunteered when she’d taken her last bite.

“No, I will,” said Michael.

“Why don’t you all do them together?” Mrs. Lake suggested, looking at the three children.

“No way!” said Chad. “If those two want to do the dishes, they can. Count me out. I’ve got a lot of work to do, anyway.” He stood up from the table and dashed upstairs. Nobody said anything.

Quietly, Stevie and Michael did the dishes. They didn’t splash each other. They didn’t snap dish towels at each other. Neither complained about having to do the job. Nothing was the way it usually was.

When morning came, Stevie reminded her mother that she’d be going straight to the hospital after school again.

“It’s not a good idea, Stevie,” Mrs. Lake said, putting the finishing touches on one more well-ironed sheet.

“I have to, Mom,” Stevie said, protesting.

“Not today,” said her mother. “The doctor has scheduled a test for this afternoon. Alex won’t be in his room most of the time. I think you should go be with your friends.…”

Her friends? Stevie had almost forgotten about them, and that surprised her.

“You should go to Pine Hollow,” her mother continued. “Take a trail ride or work on the decorations for the dance.”

Stevie hadn’t been thinking about the dance. It was going to be a week from tomorrow. That was a long time away. A lot could happen in a week, but one of the things that almost certainly wouldn’t happen was Stevie’s going to the dance. There was no way she could romp around a barn while Alex was ill.

“Mom, I don’t think—”

“You can go to the hospital after dinner if you want,” Mrs. Lake said firmly. “You shouldn’t be there this afternoon. Go. Be with Carole and Lisa. I bet they miss you a lot.”

Stevie hesitated. If her mother wanted her to go to Pine Hollow, then she should go to Pine Hollow. She wouldn’t have any fun there, because she’d be thinking about Alex all the time—but she’d go. That would ease her mother’s mind, and her mother’s mind could probably use some easing about now.

“Sure, Mom. I’ll go to Pine Hollow. Want me to make dinner tonight when I’m done?”

It may have been recollections of previous meals that Stevie had cooked, or it might have been the fact that Mrs. Lake actually already had something planned, but she assured Stevie that she’d take care of dinner.

Stevie picked up her book bag with all her fully completed homework and left the house just in time to get to school fifteen minutes early again.

“I
HAVEN
’
T
SEEN
her or talked to her, have you?”

Carole cradled the phone under her chin and settled more deeply into her father’s recliner. She and Lisa were talking about Stevie, and that meant it was going to be a serious conversation.

“Not once—at least not since the time she showed up last week at Pine Hollow for half an hour because her mother had said she had to get out of the hospital.”

Lisa sighed. “It’s just not like Stevie,” she said.

“Well, it’s not like Stevie to have a very sick brother, either,” said Carole.

“Even so, she’s not herself. Stevie’s always been a
people person. If anything goes wrong, she always needs to talk about it.”

“With us, mostly,” Carole said, completing Lisa’s thought. “Especially when she needs us to help her solve the problem—”

“Which she usually brings on herself.”

“Which isn’t the case here,” said Carole.

“But I sure wish it were.”

“What?”

“I wish this were one of those things that Stevie, like, gets into. You know, the way she’s always getting into trouble just when she thinks she’s getting out of it, and then when everything looks the very worst, she comes to us and rooks us into helping her actually get out of it. She comes up with some crazy scheme that’s totally impossible, and the next thing you know, the problem’s solved.”

“Like the elephant?” Carole said, recalling one of Stevie’s most outrageous schemes. She’d talked a circus owner into letting his elephant cover the scent of a phony fox trail that had been laid by her brother and Veronica diAngelo in order to ruin a hunt.

“Yeah,” agreed Lisa. “Just like the elephant. Anyway, if this were simple enough that a mere elephant could solve the problem, then there would hardly be any problem at all.”

“But it’s not,” Carole reminded her.

“I think we should talk to her,” said Lisa.

“What if we’re bothering her when we call?”

“We’re her best friends. How could we be a bother?”

That was a question worth thinking about. As Carole knew, when there was illness in the house, there were some times when a phone call could be a bother, but most of the time they weren’t a bother—except when people were just being nosy, and that wasn’t what she and Lisa had in mind at all. Stevie was their friend. She might not know that she needed to have her friends around, but she almost certainly did need them and if she had to be reminded of that, well, that was what The Saddle Club was about, anyway. The members had to be willing to pitch in and help one another out—even when the person who needed help didn’t know it. That seemed to describe Stevie perfectly right then and there.

“Yes, let’s call,” said Carole. “Hang on a second, I can make a three-way call.”

Carole wasn’t terribly mechanical. She cut Lisa off the first time she tried, and the second time she found herself listening to a recording that told her a phone was off the hook.

“Of course it’s off the hook. I’m talking on it,” she grumbled back at the recording. But then she wasn’t
talking on it at all, because she’d been disconnected from both the recording and from Lisa. The third time it worked.

“Hello?” Stevie answered.

“Hi, Stevie, it’s Carole.”

“And Lisa.”

“Hi.”

It was very rare for Stevie to have nothing to say but “hi.”

“Can you believe that Carole actually figured out how to make a three-way call?” Lisa asked brightly.