Stevie (20 page)

Dorothy answered, but I have to admit I wasn’t paying much attention. I was keeping a close watch on Carole out of the corner of my eye. She was staring over at Max and Judy with a worried frown. I could tell she was afraid Judy had come bearing bad news about Prancer, and I was sorry
to let her worry. But I knew it would all be worth it when she found out why Judy was really there.

After a moment, Max looked over at us. “Uh, Carole, could you come over here for a minute?” he called.

Carole gulped. Then she went.

I glanced at Lisa and giggled. She giggled back.

Dorothy looked at both of us, puzzled. “Okay, what am I missing here?” she demanded.

“Should we tell her?” Lisa asked.

“Of course!” I turned to Dorothy. “It’s about Prancer. You see, Carole is terribly worried because she’s afraid Prancer won’t have anyplace to go now that she can’t race anymore.”

“But Stevie managed to convince Max and Judy to—well, to buy her,” Lisa finished. She grinned. “Isn’t it wonderful? Prancer is coming to Pine Hollow!”

Dorothy laughed. “That
is
wonderful!” she agreed.

“Max and Judy own her fifty-fifty,” I explained. “Right about now, Judy’s probably telling Carole about the part of the agreement where Carole—with our help, of course—will need to take care of Prancer while she’s recovering from her injury.”

I checked out Carole’s face. From the expression of disbelief and joy on it, I was pretty sure I was right on target.

“She—Prancer, I mean—will be coming to Pine Hollow tomorrow,” Lisa told Dorothy. “It’s just too bad she couldn’t come today so you could meet her.”

“I’m sure I’ll meet her on my next visit,” Dorothy assured her. “In fact, I’ll make a point of it.”

I glanced over at Carole again. She was grinning from ear
to ear as she turned to run toward us. “Here she comes,” I predicted happily, “to give us the good news.”

A few days after Prancer came to stay at Pine Hollow, fox-hunt fever really started to take over the place. Max announced an organizing meeting for our mock hunt, and I invited Phil to come.

AND THEN WHEN HE GOT THERE WE STARTED SMOOCHING AND MAKING GOO-GOO EYES AT EACH OTHER. BECAUSE HE’S MY BIG STUDLY BOYFRIEND AND I’M A DORKY GIRLY-GIRL WHO THINKS ABOUT KISSING ALL THE TIME. I NEVER THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. AND

Grrrr!
My idiot brothers are such total fatheads!!!!!!!! If they mess up my report one more time, I’m going to take each of their slimy little heads in my hands and hold them facedown in the manure pile at Pine Hollow until they beg for mercy. Then I’ll tell all their friends they still wet their beds and suck their thumbs, and then I’ll
really
start planning my revenge.…

Ah, aren’t computers wonderful? Because now I can just delete this whole section (including my brothers’ dorky contribution) and Miss Fenton will never know the difference!

Glad to hear that you’re about to get started on writing about the fox hunt. I just wanted to tell you one more time that I’d be happy to help you out if you’re having trouble remembering all the stuff we learned about foxhunting terms and history and stuff. I have one really good book on the subject right upstairs in my room, and I’ve read a lot of other books and articles, too (you know how I’m always trying to learn everything I can about everything horse-related), so I think I have a pretty good handle on it. Plus I paid really close attention to everything Max and Mr. Baker told us, so I’m sure I remember every word in case you forgot some of it.

So if you want my input, or if you just want me to read over what you write and make sure it’s accurate, give a holler. (Or maybe I should say “holloa!”)

I was thinking about how you told us today at the stable that you’re ready to tackle the foxhunting portion of your assignment.
If you want, I could help you remember all the info we learned about foxhunting in our meetings and on the hunts themselves. I realize you were a little distracted during both hunts, especially the mock hunt, so you might not have been able to keep track of all the important terms and stuff. By the way, I even still have that memo Max handed out with the permission slips, in case you want to include that.

Just give me a call if you want to talk about it or ask me any questions. I’ll be here all night!

Okay, I’m totally convinced that my two best friends think I’m completely scatterbrained. They both just wrote me these e-mails that make it perfectly clear that they think my head is filled with bran mash and my attention span is that of a gnat. They seem to think I couldn’t possibly have learned a single thing during our entire foxhunting experience. Lisa even offered me this memo from Max that I had ALREADY PUT IN MY REPORT! SO THERE!!!!!

Sorry. It’s just a little irritating sometimes when they think I’m too irresponsible to save anything or remember anything or know anything about anything. Just because I like to have fun and tell a joke or two once in a while
doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention to important stuff, too. I guess it’s a good thing Miss Fenton didn’t call them in as character witnesses before she gave me this assignment, or I’d probably be in summer school already, even though it’s not even summer yet! Ha!

Okay, that’s better. Thanks for listening. (Well, reading—you know what I mean.) I was just feeling a little annoyed, and I didn’t want to take it out on my friends by writing back nasty e-mails or something, because I know they mean well (and they can be a little sensitive sometimes, especially Lisa). And I guess I might be a little on edge because my report is due in four days and my brothers are still driving me nuts and I don’t know if I’m EVER going to finish this stupid assignment—or if Miss Fenton will even like it when (I mean
if
) I do.

But I’m not just writing to complain. I actually have some more news regarding the Mystery of the Suspicious Snob. Here goes: We had riding lessons today after school, and for like the third time in a row, Veronica didn’t show up. And Max didn’t even seem mad about it, which means he must have known she wasn’t coming. I mean, you know Max. Since when does he EVER not get mad when someone skips a lesson without good reason?

So I was in the tack room after lessons when Betsy Cavanaugh and Anna McWhirter came in. I guess I said something kind of insulting about Veronica not showing up (you know, something along the lines of how I was glad to see she finally realized what a horrible rider she was and was giving up on lessons completely), and instead of ignoring me or in-suiting
me back, as I expected, Betsy said, “Poor Veronica,” in this quavery voice and Anna started blinking really hard, like she was about to cry. Then they both turned around and ran out of the room!

It was totally weird. I still have no idea what’s going on.

But I’ll find out, or my name’s not Steven Lake!

Welcome to My Life …

A few days after Prancer came to stay at Pine Hollow, fox-hunt fever really started to take over. Max announced an organizing meeting for our mock hunt, and I invited Phil to come. Unfortunately, I also invited him to my house for dinner beforehand (I even finished at least half of my math word problems before he arrived). But even more unfortunately, all three of my low-life brothers were there.

They didn’t leave us alone the entire time. Let me see if I can recall just some of the humiliating conversation over that dinner table.

Chad started it. As you know, Miss Fenton, he’s the oldest. That means he thinks can say whatever he wants to the rest of us. It also means that Alex and Michael tend to follow his lead, especially when he’s giving me a hard time. Which he always is.

“So, tell me, Stevie,” he said in this fake-innocent voice. “Just where are you and Phil going tonight after dinner?”

I could already see where this was heading—straight downhill. Still, I did my best to answer politely. “We’re going to an organizing meeting for the mock hunt.”

“Oh, you hunt mocks?” my oh-so-humorous twin brother asked. “They’ve certainly been a menace to the local farmers.”

Phil, being much more evolved than my brothers, answered patiently. “Not exactly, Alex,” he said. “It’s
mock
as in pretend. It’s a pretend hunt being sponsored by Stevie’s Pony Club to prepare all of us for the real fox hunt that’s being held at my Pony Club.”

Instead of shutting my brothers up, Phil’s calm, intelligent words got them even more riled up. They started yelling “Tallyho!” and talking about drinking brandy from flasks and wondering if fox meat was any good to eat.

I have to admit, I was having kind of a hard time controlling myself. It was such a temptation to leap across the table and throttle them all. However, I knew my parents wouldn’t exactly approve of that. Besides, I didn’t want to fight with my brothers in front of Phil—which was exactly why I was so furious with them at that moment.

“For your information,” I told them finally, after I’d gained enough control over my anger that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t start yelling, “foxhunting is an old and honorable sport. In England, where there are lots of foxes, they’re viewed as a pest and the farmers often really do want them to be caught as long as it’s humane. Here in America, where there aren’t so many foxes, they’re rarely caught and even more rarely killed. In fact, most hunters would be disappointed if the hounds were to catch the fox. See, we want that same fox to be available to lead us on a merry chase the next time we go foxhunting.”

As soon as that last sentence was out of my mouth, I cringed, knowing that I had just made a fatal mistake.

“A merry chase!” Chad howled. Alex and Michael joined in. Even my parents—traitors!—seemed to be having trouble keeping straight faces. I couldn’t help blushing, which made me angrier than ever. I hate it when my brothers embarrass me. And I especially hate it when they embarrass me in front of Phil!

I was sort of speechless for a moment, trying to think of the most humiliating, horrible things I could announce to the table at large about each of my brothers. However, Phil spoke up before I could come up with anything good.

“There’s a lot of misinformation out there about foxhunting,” he said. “We’ve been doing a lot of reading on the subject at Cross County, and one thing I thought was interesting was that only the huntsman, the master of the hounds, and the whippers-in are doing any actual hunting. The rest of us are just along for the ride.”

“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.

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!)