Hobbyhorse (2 page)

Thinking about Carole’s problem reminded Lisa of something else, and she started to laugh. She put her hand over her mouth when she realized that people in the airport were starting to stare at her. But it had been funny! Stevie loved practical jokes. In an effort to cheer Carole up, she’d put a small road apple—a round piece of horse manure—inside a boot belonging to Veronica diAngelo, the richest, snobbiest, most annoying rider at the stable. Veronica’s shriek of
horror as she put her foot into her boot had made all of them, including Carole, laugh until tears ran down their faces. The only person besides Veronica who hadn’t seemed amused was Max.

Lisa jerked her thoughts back to the present. They had arrived at Amelia’s gate, and the little girl was waiting for them, clinging to the hand of a rather harassed-looking flight attendant.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” the flight attendant said with what sounded to Lisa like utter relief. Lisa wondered what the flight had been like. Had Amelia destroyed all the magazines on the plane?

“Auntie Eleanor! Uncle Richard!” Amelia gave a little cry of joy and wrapped herself around Mrs. Atwood’s legs. “I’m so glad to see you! I thought you wouldn’t come!”

Mrs. Atwood bent down and gave Amelia a hug.

The little girl had long brown hair cascading down the middle of her back and dark-brown heavily lashed eyes. She was perfectly attired in a plaid dress, tights, and little patent leather shoes. She had a navy blue wool coat over her arm and a matching wool hat on her head. She looked, in fact, a little young for her age, and Lisa wondered how she kept her clothes so neat.

“Here’s your cousin Lisa,” Mrs. Atwood said, peeling herself away from Amelia’s tight embrace.

Amelia smiled shyly. “I’m so glad to meet you again,
Lisa,” she said. “I just know we’re going to have so much fun at your stable.”

“I hope so,” Lisa replied. She couldn’t quite keep herself from sounding skeptical.

A
MELIA WAS LIKE
no other nine-year-old Lisa had ever met. Her manners were perfect, but somehow Lisa didn’t trust them. While they waited for Amelia’s suitcase, Lisa told her that they’d planned to stop for dinner on the way home, at The Spaghetti House, one of Lisa’s favorite restaurants.

“Oh,” Amelia said. “Oh, I’m sure that will be nice.” But the pause between the first and second
oh
was a long one, and Amelia didn’t quite look as though she thought it would be nice.

“Don’t you like spaghetti, dear?” Mrs. Atwood asked.

“Oh, well. I’m sure there will be something there I can eat.” Amelia smiled cheerfully. “Something. I’m sure.”

“Well, we don’t have to get spaghetti if you don’t like it,” Mr. Atwood said. “What do you like?”

Give me a break
, Lisa thought. She had never known a nine-year-old who didn’t like spaghetti.

“Well … I like pizza. That’s sort of like spaghetti, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Mr. Atwood said heartily. “We’ll stop for pizza, then.”

Lisa had really wanted to go to The Spaghetti House.
At
least I like pizza
, she thought. She was glad Amelia hadn’t expressed a desire for sushi. They’d all be settling down to plates of raw fish.

A
T THE
P
IZZA
P
ALACE
the same sort of thing happened.

“Let’s get pepperoni,” Lisa suggested. She knew her mother didn’t really like any other pizza toppings.

“Oh,” Amelia said quietly. “Oh, okay.”

“Don’t you like pepperoni?” Mr. Atwood asked.

“I like sausage,” Amelia said.

“Sausage it is!”

“But Dad!” Lisa protested. “You don’t like sausage! Neither does Mom!”

“Oh, get pepperoni then,” Amelia said hurriedly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s okay, we all like sausage,” Mr. Atwood assured her, giving Lisa a look that meant guests came first. They ended up with a large sausage pizza, with not a single slice of pepperoni in sight.

“I’m really looking forward to this riding camp,” Amelia said as she sank her teeth into her first piece of pizza. “My mom has told me all about Pine Hollow. I’m sure it’s almost as nice as the stable where I take lessons.”

Lisa thought Pine Hollow was one of the nicest stables on earth. It might not be the fanciest, but it was nice in every sense of the word. She was just about to say so when her
mother said, “You really seem horse-crazy, Amelia. Just like Lisa.”

Amelia glowed. “More than anything else in the world,” she said. “I love horses.”

Lisa smiled. “Me too.”

“Windswept, the stable where I ride, is just filled with the most elegant people,” Amelia continued. “My mother says you would be amazed, Aunt Eleanor.”

Lisa couldn’t believe what Amelia had just said. As if elegant people were important! Sometimes Lisa’s mother got a little hung up on being a member of high society, and Lisa remembered that her aunt Marianne, Amelia’s mother, could be the same way. It seemed as if Amelia was following right along.

“What about the horses?” Lisa asked.

“Oh, the horses!” Amelia’s eyes widened. She grabbed the piece of pizza Lisa wanted next and stuffed it into her mouth before saying another word. Lisa thought Amelia’s table manners, at least, could stand improvement.

Amelia dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “I ride absolutely the best horse in the barn,” she said, speaking to her aunt and uncle. “Her name is Star. She’s a beautiful golden chestnut with the sweetest eyes, and she is so gentle.”

This sounded pretty good to Lisa. But Amelia continued: “Her conformation is absolutely perfect. My trainer says
there’s not a better-looking or better-bred horse in the barn. Of course, she’s rather high-spirited, and she can be quite difficult to handle, but I manage her just fine.”

“Goodness! A little thing like you!” Mr. Atwood shot an amused look at his wife.

“My instructor, Ruth, says I’m a natural rider,” Amelia said simply.

Lisa struggled to keep silent. She knew without a doubt that Star was neither high-spirited nor difficult to handle. Even if Amelia were the most natural rider in the world, she hadn’t been riding long enough to deal with a difficult horse. Riding was hard, and good riding took time. Lisa also doubted Star had perfect conformation or breeding. Just like people, horses couldn’t all be supermodel beautiful or tremendously athletic. Of course, some horses did have both incredible breeding and wonderful, gentle dispositions, but those horses were so valuable that they were almost never owned by stables that gave lessons. They were owned by very rich people.

Amelia was bragging. Didn’t her parents notice? Lisa gritted her teeth. If she had bragged about being called a natural rider—which Max had once said she was—her parents would have told her to stop it.

Amelia prattled on about Star. She was the best horse, with the best personality, and everyone wanted to ride her all the time, but Amelia was the chosen one. Lisa began to
realize that some smart instructor had convinced Amelia that Star was an advanced horse, rather than the beginner mount she had to be.

“My mother bought me a new pair of jodhpurs specially for the trip,” Amelia said. “They’re Pritchards. They cost over a hundred dollars. I have two pairs of them now.”

“How lovely, dear,” Mrs. Atwood said. Lisa pressed her lips together.

“Yes, and I’m probably going to get my own saddle soon, and Mummy said I might get a horse for my birthday. I probably will. I don’t know if Ruth will sell Star, of course, because she is such a good horse, but if not we’ll have to find one just like her.”

Lisa couldn’t believe this brat was getting her own horse. She hoped it wasn’t true. It sounded as if Amelia was just getting carried away, but who knew for sure? Meanwhile, Lisa’s parents seemed charmed by their niece’s conversation.

When they finally got home, it was too late for Lisa to call Carole or Stevie, but the message light on the answering machine was blinking. Lisa hurried to play back the tape. It was Carole.

“Lisa”—Carole’s voice quavered, as though she were near tears—“I called Judy, but she had to do an emergency colic surgery, and she couldn’t see Starlight today. But I looked his symptoms up in a book—I’m so worried—call me when you can.”

That was all. Lisa reset the tape. Whatever Starlight’s problem was, it had to be awful for Carole to sound so upset. Lisa bit her lip. She’d have to wait until morning to find out what was wrong.

“Who was that?” Amelia demanded, walking up to Lisa. “What was she talking about? Does she have a horse?”

“That was my friend Carole.” Lisa began to explain about Starlight.

“Why is her horse sick?” Amelia said. “What’s wrong with it?”

Lisa closed her mouth and shut her eyes and silently counted to ten. If she didn’t, she was going to say something rude.

“Star is
never
sick,” Amelia said. “What were the other messages?”

“That’s none of your business. It’s my family’s answering machine,” Lisa said. “Besides, there weren’t any other messages.”

Amelia looked stricken. “Didn’t my parents call?” she whispered.

Lisa hadn’t even thought about that. She shook her head. “Sorry.”

Amelia nodded and suddenly looked brighter. “I bet they called but just didn’t want to leave a message. They’ll call back soon.”

Lisa’s parents came in from the garage with Amelia’s
suitcase. “Are you showing Amelia around, dear?” Mrs. Atwood asked.

“Uh, sure,” Lisa said. “Amelia, this is the living room.”

Amelia looked around. “Oh!” She gave a cry of delight. “Where did you get that hobbyhorse?”

Despite her bad mood, Lisa smiled. Amelia had discovered the most interesting object in the room. Between the two windows on the far side stood a beautiful antique hobbyhorse that Lisa’s parents had bought in England. It was made of polished wood with a real horsehair mane and tail and a real leather saddle and bridle, and it was more than two hundred years old. Lisa loved it.

Amelia rushed forward and hugged the little horse. “Oh, it’s beautiful! Look at its saddle! Can I ride it?”

“No,” Lisa said quickly. Amelia froze.

“It’s just for decoration,” Mrs. Atwood explained. “It’s very old and fragile.”

“It was made for little kids, anyway,” Lisa said. “You’re too big.”

Amelia frowned and didn’t say anything. She smoothed the hobbyhorse’s mane and arranged the reins so that they rested on the saddle. Lisa wondered what she was thinking. It was impossible to tell.

Lisa was relieved when her parents suggested that it might be time for Amelia to go to bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day, starting with the usual Saturday-morning Horse Wise
meeting. Even though it was a little early for Lisa to go to bed, she followed her parents and Amelia up to the guest room.

Amelia didn’t want to sleep in the guest room. She didn’t want to be alone in a strange house. It was really scary. Before Lisa knew quite what had happened, Amelia was being tucked into Lisa’s four-poster bed, and Lisa’s mother was handing Lisa a sleeping bag so that she could sleep on the floor.

Lisa rolled herself into her bag and shut her eyes, but she couldn’t sleep. She fretted over Starlight and Carole. She tried to block out the sound of Amelia’s earth-shattering snores. She wished the floor weren’t quite so hard.

It was going to be a very long week.

I
N THE MORNING
Lisa woke to find Amelia rummaging through the drawers of her desk. “What do you think you’re doing?” Lisa demanded, sitting up and climbing out of her sleeping bag.

“Just looking,” Amelia replied. “Who’s John Brightstar?”

“Were you reading my letters?” Lisa asked in amazement. John was a friend of hers who lived on a ranch out West.

“No, I just looked at the envelopes,” Amelia said. “He wrote his return address on them. Is he your boyfriend?”

He wasn’t, but that was none of Amelia’s business. “You’re not allowed to look through my drawers,” Lisa said. She took her letters away from Amelia and jammed them
back into the drawer. “You’re not allowed to look through any of my stuff.”

“But I’m company,” Amelia said with a puzzled frown. “I’m supposed to be able to do whatever I want.”

“Not in my room,” Lisa said. She grabbed her clothes and went to the bathroom to dress and brush her teeth. What a way to start the morning!

When she came back into her room, she found Amelia sitting on the bed, which she’d made neatly. Amelia had folded Lisa’s sleeping bag, too, and put her own nightgown into her suitcase. She was completely dressed in a turtle-neck, wool sweater, and her hundred-dollar jodhpurs, and she’d braided her hair nicely. But the thing Lisa noticed first was that Amelia was reading one of her best books!

“Give that back!” Lisa cried, snatching it out of Amelia’s hands. It was an old copy of
Black Beauty
, with beautiful color illustrations, and Lisa loved it. She didn’t want Amelia messing it up.

“I was just reading it,” Amelia protested in a hurt voice. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to look at your books.”

Lisa realized that Amelia was probably old enough now to be trusted with her books. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess you can look at them. Just be careful, okay?”