Hot Potato (7 page)

Shelby sat at the dining room table with her History
book spread in front of her. She flicked the end of her
pen between her upper and lower teeth. She was
supposed to be choosing between Vikings, Medieval
Japanese or Aztecs for her assignment, but instead she
had been thinking about what her friends had said.
Normally she and Erin would decide on the assignment
topic together, either in class or on the phone
afterwards, but they hadn't spoken all afternoon.

She wondered if she could come up with another
hundred dollars to buy Lindsey and Erin out of the
agreement and, if she did, whether things would go
back to normal. There was more to the whole business
than money.

In the lounge room Connor sat on the floor eating
a bowl filled with tinned peaches and ice cream, and
watching
The Simpsons.
Blake stood in the middle of
the room, wrapped in a towel, fresh from his bath. He
stared at the television screen, transfixed – rigid and
unwieldy, like a department store mannequin, while
his father tried to dress him in pyjamas.

Shelby's mother sat next to her at the table with
her own textbooks spread out, having recently started
a course in surveillance and investigation.

Shelby thought it was cool that her mum was
training to be a private detective, but her mum assured
her that her new part-time job as a detective at a
department store was far less exciting than Shelby
imagined. She told Shelby that she probably got the
job because she was the most ordinary-looking person
who had applied.

She still had a tea towel over her shoulder from
handling hot pans at dinner time. Shelby had to admit
that her mum was pretty ordinary. She was average
height, average weight, with shoulder length hair that
wasn't curly or straight. She had a pleasant face, but
plain. Shelby thought she was perfect for a detective.
It made much more sense to have the sort of person
the eye slides over than all those tall, gorgeous women
in designer suits that were on the TV shows.

Shelby wondered if one day, once Blake was at
school, her mother might open her own business
finding kidnapped heiresses, tracking stolen treasures,
or exposing wildlife smugglers.

'You look lost. Need some help?' her mum asked.
Shelby sighed and flipped through the pages in front
of her. History was really the only subject at school
that she found relevant. She hadn't quite decided if she
wanted to run a big agistment centre like Lindsey's
mum, or be an instructor like Miss Anita, or both.

It was also possible that her career in professional
competition could take off, once it got started. Either
way she was sure that she would be working with
horses. She didn't need English, or Science, or PE to
do that. She would need some Maths, but she was
pretty sure she already had enough to get by.

At least with History she could find out things that
were interesting, if not exactly useful. Horses had
played a big part in history, right up until the last
century, which was why she found modern history
(with the exception of the part about Phar Lap) a big
bore.

When they studied the Anzacs Shelby focused on
Simpson's donkey – not a horse, but equine nonetheless.
This year she'd already done an assignment on
Genghis Khan, with a big section dedicated to Mongolian
horses.

Shelby was pretty sure that the Vikings travelled
by boat, so they weren't likely to take horses. She
didn't think the Aztecs had them either, otherwise the
Spanish might have had a bit more trouble with them.

'Did the Medieval Japanese have horses?' Shelby
asked her mother.

'I think the Samurais did.'

Shelby rested her chin on her hand. 'Hey, Mum, do
you remember how you said the other day that I was
being more mature?'

'Mmmm,' her mother murmured.

'Well, I was thinking that, now I'm making good
decisions, and working . . .' She pointed her pen at her
mother. 'I haven't missed a single day – did you know
that?
And
I'm doing all my schoolwork,
plus
Blue's
agistment is free at the stables, so . . .'

Her mother picked up one of the textbooks, tilting
it forward so that it caught the overhead light. 'No,
Shelby.'

Shelby continued. 'Maybe it's time to talk about
perhaps getting another pony?'

Shelby's mum snapped the book shut. Her mouth
was pursed and she frowned.

'Aren't you even going to think about it? Even if
I got a little cheap one? Only one hundred dollars, and
then we could sell her for three times as much later.'

'Shelby!' her mother warned.

'But you haven't listened to the whole plan! See, at
the sales they're really cheap and you can train them
and then sell them for more. You can't possibly lose.
It's not even like a hobby, it's an
investment
. I could
do a spreadsheet and show you.'

'Investment my eye, Shelby Shaw. I knew going to
the sales was a bad idea. I
knew
it!' Her mother
grabbed the tea towel from her shoulder and flicked it
at Shelby's arm. Shelby caught it in midair.

'If you're not going to do your homework then
you can get up there and dry the dishes!'

'I'm doing it already,' Shelby said. She picked up
the textbook and held it close to her face, then put it
down on the table again. 'See? Nose-in-book! Jeez
Louise!'

Shelby sighed, pushed the tea towel aside and
leaned over her books again. It was worth crossing off
the list of possibilities, anyway.

Shelby tossed her school bag down on the asphalt next
to Erin's and sat on the seat. There was a chill on the
morning breeze and she was glad she had brought her
jumper. She tucked her hands inside the sleeves. It
wouldn't be long before she would need to start
wearing long pants to school, instead of her summer
shorts.

She kept her eyes fixed on the girls playing netball
on the other side of the quadrangle. Up at the other end
of the quad a group of older boys played handball.

'I'm sorry your mum had to pay three hundred
dollars for the broken saddle. I can't pay you eightythree
dollars thirty-three, which is a third of that
minus the fifty dollars that was your share to start
with, because I don't have it. I admit that I have been
a bad sharer, and I agree that we should sell Hot . . . I
mean, CC.'

She paused. Erin didn't say anything.

'I think we should try to get four fifty when we sell
her. That way you can get your three hundred back,
and Lin can have her hundred and I can have my fifty,
and then we'll all go back to our ordinary lives. But to
make up for now, I bought you a Redskin.' Shelby
thrust the lolly at her friend.

Erin took it from her and twisted off the wrapper.
She snapped it in two and passed half to Shelby, then
popped her half into her mouth. She chewed on it for
a moment.

'I was thinking this morning, and do you know
what? You are the longest best friend I have had so far.'

Shelby stretched out her arms and legs.

Erin started to laugh, and choked on her Redskin.
She coughed and patted her chest. 'No, silly! There are
other girls who I have known for longer but –'

'I knew what you meant,' Shelby interrupted. Erin
watched
Neighbours
and
Home and Away
. Shelby
was afraid that some dramatic speech might follow.

Erin's eyes widened and she grabbed Shelby's
sleeve. 'What if our friendship doesn't survive this
crisis?'

Shelby cut her off again. 'What about Penelope?'

'What?' Erin looked confused.

'Penelope – that grey mare. She's pretty long,'
Shelby said, smiling.

Erin groaned. 'That is the lamest joke ever. I am
trying to tell you something important.'

'Let's not talk about it for one whole day, OK?
We'll just do what we normally do,' suggested Shelby.

Erin nodded. She looked pensive as she stared out
into the quad. Shelby smiled, guessing that Erin was
imagining a few fretful piano chords punctuating the
end of the conversation.

The three girls sat in front of the computer in Mrs
Edel's office at the stables. They had told Lindsey's
mother that they were 'just looking' at
Horse Deals
online, but they were actually trying to place an advertisement.
So far they had agreed to place Hotty in the
'$1000 and under' section, because it was free, but
they couldn't agree on the text.

'What about "
stunning chestnut mare
"?' suggested
Erin.

'Not "
stunning
",' complained Shelby.

'Why not?'

'Because if you were truly stunned by all the horses
in here that people say are stunning you'd be in a
coma!' Lindsey responded. 'I reckon it should be
"
pretty chestnut filly, make great lawn mower
".'

'But that makes her sound injured and dangerous,'
said Erin.

'She is injured and dangerous!' Lindsey retorted.

Shelby said, 'We don't know that for sure. We
haven't tested the other saddle yet.'

They stared at the screen, thinking.

'How about
,
"
lovely chestnut mare, extravagant
movement
"?' said Shelby. 'That's even true!'

'Extravagantly bucking till she falls over,' Erin
added.

'"
Extravagant movement
" is right up there with
"
stunning
",' Lindsey grumbled. 'We could say "
personality
plus
". Everyone knows that means "complete
fruit loop".'

'Does it really?' asked Erin.

'Yeah, it's like if it says "forward moving", that
means it bolts,' added Shelby.

'Or "good doer" means that it has laminitis,'
added Lindsey.

'G'day, g'day,' came a voice from the veranda.

The three girls looked up. Hayley Crook was
standing in the doorway smiling. 'What are you doing?'

'We were just looking at horses for sale,' explained
Shelby, while Lindsey hurriedly changed pages.

'Oh yeah? Are you going to buy something new?
What have you found?' she asked, coming around the
edge of the desk.

Lindsey shrugged. 'Nothing yet. I might if I see
something I like.'

'Can I have a look?'

'Go for it.' Lindsey backed away from the desk
and Hayley sat down. She rolled the chair under the
desk and scrolled down the page.

'What about this one?
Triple registered, half brother
to champions
. Only eight hundred. I wonder what's
wrong with it? Oh, here we go – "big personality". It
must be a nutcase.'

Shelby, Erin and Lindsey exchanged looks.

They were hoping to have placed the advertisement
by the time Lindsey's mother came back in from
the stables, but if Hayley hung around they would
have to wait until the next afternoon.

Lindsey sighed. 'Oh well, I suppose we'd better get
back to it. Come on, Shel.'

Hayley scrolled down the page. 'Here's a good one
– "brown, six years old, fifteen hands, suit hacking,
pony club, etc".'

'Maybe we'll look later,' Erin said. Lindsey had
hold of her wrist and was dragging her towards the
door.

Shelby thought they were being rude just leaving
Hayley there. She opened her mouth to ask Hayley if
she wanted to come with them, and then she shut it
again.

What exactly was she offering for Hayley to do?
Fill water troughs? Muck out stables? That's what her
family paid to have done for them. Instead she smiled.
'See you later, OK?'

Hayley nodded.

'Hey, you want to maybe come out on a trail with
us this weekend?' Shelby suggested.

Hayley's lip curled up on one side. 'Umm, I don't
think so. You know how it is. Thanks for the offer,
though.'

Shelby felt dumb for asking. She backed out of the
room and onto the veranda.

'What are you doing?' Lindsey whispered.

Shelby shrugged. 'I just didn't think it was polite to
get up and leave as soon as she walked in.'

'Jill Crook is the biggest busybody in this whole
place,' said Lindsey in a low voice. 'You know that
she runs Hayley's life. We can't risk it.'

'OK. I was just being nice.'

Lindsey looked across the driveway. Her mother
was striding purposefully down the laneway between
the stable blocks. 'Mum's coming back now anyway.
We'll have to do the ad tomorrow.'

'Oh no!' said Shelby. Parked nose-in to the side of
the stables was the farrier's big red ute. 'Clint! What if
he's talked to your mum?'

Mrs Edel wasn't looking at the girls, instead swivelling
her head back and forth, looking into each of
the yards as she marched past them. Shelby couldn't
tell what sort of temper she was in.

'Hi, Mrs E.' Erin waved cheerily. Shelby wondered
if she was hoping to gauge Brenda Edel's mood while
she still had time to run.

Lindsey's mum climbed the steps, frowning. 'I was
looking at our accounts today. Did you know there's a
client who hasn't paid for months? For the life of me
I can't remember what she looks like. I'm usually good
with faces.'

The three girls followed her into the office warily.
Did she know? Was she telling them this story as some
kind of build-up?

She acknowledged Hayley with a nod and then
shuffled through some papers on the desk.

'Did you see Clint out there?' asked Lindsey.

'Yes.'

Shelby held her breath.

'I didn't stop though. He told me as I was passing
that he'd pop in for coffee when he was finished. He
said he had something he wanted to ask me about.'

Shelby didn't dare to look at her friends.

'I think I might ring this Gwen Stefani woman
right now,' Mrs Edel continued. She leaned over the
desk for the phone. 'I can't believe we've let her get so
far behind.'

'Gwen Stefani!' said Hayley.

'Do you know her?' asked Lindsey's mum.

Hayley looked over Mrs Edel's shoulder at the
other girls. Shelby opened her eyes wide. Erin ran
her hand across her throat in a cutting motion.
Lindsey stood still, frozen – the colour draining from
her face.

Shelby was dismayed. They hadn't considered the
consequences of backdating the computer entry. It
made the account months overdue. "Gwen Stefani"
probably owed hundreds of dollars.

'Ah, not personally,' Hayley answered.

'What does she look like?'

Hayley tilted her head. 'Well, she's got blonde hair.
Pretty. She wears a lot of make-up.'

Erin put both of her hands over her mouth, stifling
a giggle.

Mrs Edel looked down at the number jotted on her
desk pad and then dialled.

The four girls stared at each other. Lindsey was so
pale that Shelby was worried she might pass out. It
was all happening so fast. Shelby's heart started
thumping in her chest.

A few seconds later Erin's mobile phone began
to ring. She dug it out of her pocket. 'It's probably my
mum,' she said, quickly stepping outside onto the
veranda.

Erin wouldn't remember that Lindsey had used
Erin's mobile number for Gwen. Shelby wanted to
follow her and grab the phone out of her hand, but it
was too late.

'Hello?' said Erin quietly.

Shelby could hear Erin's voice both through the
doorway and through the phone in Mrs Edel's hand.

'Yes, errr, I'm looking for a Ms Gwen Stefani?'

Erin paused. Shelby could feel her face reddening.
She wished they hadn't left a phone number at all.
After a long silence Erin said in a very bad American
accent, 'Oh, yar! How are ya?'

Mrs Edel frowned. She moved the phone away
from her ear and stared at it, then she held it against
her ear again. 'Erin? Is that you?'

'Like, who's Erin?' came the dual voices.

Shelby closed her eyes.

Mrs Edel walked to the doorway. 'Erin,' she said
again.

Erin turned around slowly, a guilty grin on her
face. She pointed to the mobile and mouthed,
I'm on
the phone
.

'Erin, put the phone down.'

Erin closed her phone with a snap and tucked it in
her pocket.

'OK, girls,' said Mrs Edel. 'What's going on here?'