Secret Horse (10 page)

“Let’s see …,” Veronica said. Stevie watched hungrily as she rummaged through cupboards and then opened the refrigerator to stare inside.

Stevie’s stomach growled. There was every kind of
cookie, cracker, and salty snack imaginable in the cupboards. The fridge was packed with juice drinks and soda. And standing on the counter was half a cake.

“Gosh, I don’t know what I can give you,” Veronica said, sounding disappointed. She turned to Stevie. “How about some water for starters?”

Stevie smiled wanly. “Water? What about a root beer?” she said.

Veronica looked stern. “Now, Stevie. You know as well as I that after exercising you should always drink water. Nothing else hydrates your body as well.” She poured a glass and handed it to Stevie. “Now
I’m
going to have a diet orange, but my mother buys those specifically for me, because she knows I’m on a diet.”

After gulping down the water in one long swallow, Stevie said pointedly, “Gosh, that cake looks terrific! What kind is it?”

“Where? Oh, that? It’s devil’s food.” Veronica took the lid off the cake stand. She pinched a bite of frosting from one side and popped it into her mouth. Stevie stared at her the way a cat stares at a mouse. “I’d offer you some,” said Stevie’s host, licking her finger, “but it’s a day old and that would be rude. Anyway, I’m on a diet for the Macrae. Hey, I know!” Veronica opened the refrigerator door again. “Carrot sticks! Mom always keeps plenty around.”

Stevie felt faint. She clutched the counter. “Do you have any dip?” she murmured in desperation.

C
AROLE WAS ENJOYING
a leisurely breakfast. After the horse’s big day the day before, she and Lisa had voted to give Samson some time off. That meant they could show up at Pine Hollow an hour or two later. Carole was glad of the extra time because she had something she wanted to discuss with her father: the issue of Lisa’s riding Samson in the Macrae. Though she had been happy to cede the opportunity by not riding herself, Carole still wanted to make sure she was doing the right thing. Lisa had seemed very shaken after the fall. The fall itself wasn’t such a big deal, but Lisa’s reaction to it was. If she wanted to compete successfully in a show like the Macrae, she would have to ride with confidence.

With all his experience in the military, Colonel Hanson had a very good understanding of people—including Saddle Club members. And this was, Carole thought, a classic people question. Buttering an English muffin, she thought about how to phrase it.

The question of entering the Macrae, of course, was far from settled. Max might not agree to Samson’s going at all. Veronica might not agree to their going with her in the van. And neither Carole nor Lisa had remembered to talk to Stevie to see how she felt about it. But

Carole had a hunch that all these things just might fall into place. “Dad?” she said tentatively.

Colonel Hanson looked up from the newspaper. “Yes, dear?”

“What would you do if there was a very important job to be done and—and someone wanted to do the job who was very enthusiastic but didn’t have that much experience.”

“Hmmm …” Colonel Hanson frowned in thought. “You mean if I were the person in charge and I had to choose?”

Carole pursed her lips. “No, not exactly. More like if you had to
recommend
someone to the, oh, the commanding officer.”

Carole’s father nodded. “So this person has no experience.”

“Not
no
experience. She—they actually have a lot of experience. And they’re good at what they do—very good, in fact. But this is a—an event that’s more important than any event this person has participated in before.”

“So let me see if I have this straight,” Colonel Hanson said. “This upcoming event—you might say it was a kind of
debut
for the person, their chance to … to get a promotion, say.”

Carole put down her English muffin. Sometimes her father amazed her with his insight. “That’s exactly what
it is, Dad,” she said. “A promotion. At least,” she added reflectively, “I’m sure the person sees it that way.”

Colonel Hanson nodded again. He took a sip of coffee, sat back, and clasped his hands around one knee. “I’ll tell you what I think, honey. In the Marines, there’s no substitute for experience. That’s why there are ranks: Even a very talented private can’t do the job of a colonel.”

“But, Dad—” Carole began to protest.

“But,” her father continued, “I believe that every man—every man or woman, I mean—deserves a chance. So if the person isn’t going to endanger himself or anyone else by being given that chance, then I would recommend that person for the job.”

Carole spent a moment absorbing all this. “Oh, Dad!” she cried. “I knew you’d agree!”

“Agree?” said Colonel Hanson in surprise.

“Yes.
You
know,” Carole supplied impatiently, “that Lisa deserves to ride in the Macrae!”

“A
ND THIS
,”
SAID
Veronica, flipping a page in her photo album, “is the family on vacation in Mexico when I was seven.”

Stevie’s eyes swam. Her head was pounding. On her lap Veronica held the second album she’d forced Stevie to admire. She had another six waiting in a stack on the couch.

“Now, here’s our first trip to the Caribbean.” Veronica took a long sip of her diet orange soda.

The Caribbean
, Stevie thought longingly. Through the windows she could glimpse the blue water of the pool.

“Or was this our second? Hmmm … I can’t remember. It must have been our first, because—”

“Speaking of the Caribbean,” Stevie interrupted, “don’t you want to go swimming? The water, looks great.”

Veronica gave Stevie a pained look. “Go swimming? Right after curling my hair? I don’t think so. Now, let’s get back to the album, because we have six more to—”

“Well, maybe I could go. And you could watch me,” Stevie suggested.

“But that wouldn’t be fun for me,” Veronica complained.

Stevie glared at her. “Oh, in that case, forget it. Because
I’m
having a
won
derful time looking at photo albums!”

“I knew you would, Stevie!” Veronica exclaimed.

Hundreds—thousands—of photographs later, Veronica ran out of diAngelo family vacations. “Let’s go up to my room,” she suggested.

“Anything’ll be better than this,” Stevie mumbled, following Veronica up a wide marble staircase. Actually, she was slightly curious to see what Veronica’s room looked like. Her mild curiosity deserted her, however,
the minute she stepped over the threshold. In its place came white-hot jealousy. Of all the spoiled-brat rooms Stevie had laid eyes on, Veronica’s was by far the spoiledest. She had everything—no, Stevie realized, she had
two
of everything! She had two beds, a huge television and a small one, two phones (one cordless), two enormous closets stuffed with clothes. She had a computer, a clock radio, a stereo—and they all looked new. She had a dressing table and chair, a wall of teddy bears, a shelf of horse models … The room went on and on and on—and opened up onto a little balcony overlooking the Olympic-sized pool. Glancing around, Stevie suddenly had an inspiration. “Wanna play horse models?” she asked, eyeing the large collection. Even Veronica couldn’t ruin horse models, could she?

Veronica thought for a minute. “Okay. Why don’t I be the beautiful show horse and you can be the ragged, broken-down nag, and I’ll tell you stories about my glamorous life on the A circuit—”

“Or we could go swimming,” Stevie interrupted flatly.

“Stevie,” Veronica said icily, “I’m beginning to think you’re here to use the pool, not for my company. That’s not true, is it?”

“Of course not!” Stevie assured her with all the enthusiasm she could muster. “It’s just that when Carole, Lisa, and I play horse models—”

Veronica stamped her foot on the plush white rug. “ ‘Carole and Lisa! Carole and Lisa!’ Is that all you can talk about? Why don’t you try getting some more sophisticated friends!”

That did it. The insult to Carole and Lisa was more than Agent Lake could put up with. Clenching her hands, she stared at Veronica. If she could control herself for another few minutes she might be able to escape without sabotaging the entire mission. “I have to go,” Stevie announced. “I just remembered I have to—go.”

“But I haven’t even taken you on the grand tour!” Veronica complained. “And you haven’t admired all my stuff!”

“I know!” Stevie groaned. “I know!”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “You know, Stevie,” she said menacingly, “I have plenty of other friends who would love a space in the van to the Macrae.”

Stevie could endure it no longer. Throwing caution to the wind, she laughed aloud at Veronica’s scare tactics. “It’s not like you own the van!” she retorted. “It belongs to Pine Hollow, in case you’ve forgotten!”

Veronica’s face turned white with anger. “So? I could get my mother to rent out the whole thing—all four stalls. She’d do it in a second, and then you’d be nowhere! You’d be high and dry!”

“You know what?” Stevie yelled. “I
am
high and dry!
Right now! And hot and sweaty! And you know what else? I did come over here just to swim! And I’m taking a dip in the pool before I leave!”

Ignoring the shocked expression on Veronica’s face, Stevie looked around wildly for an escape. Her eyes lit on the balcony doors. Before Veronica could stop her, Stevie slipped through them and out onto the little terrace. “Now I’m trapped again!” she murmured.
Think, Stevie! Think! What would a spy do in a situation like this?
she wondered.
Something dramatic
, she decided.
Like slide down the
—“Drainpipe!” Stevie cried. She boosted herself onto the balcony wall. She seized the drainpipe with two hands and swung her legs over the edge.

“Don’t you dare, Stevie Lake!” Veronica roared, racing out after her.

But it was too late. Eyes closed, Stevie pushed off and zipped to the ground. “Ow!” She sat down hard. But she was up in a flash.

“What are you doing?” Veronica screamed down at her. “You can’t go in my pool without my permission!”

“Oh, can’t I?” Stevie challenged. She ripped off her T-shirt and shorts and strode to the diving board. She took three gleeful running steps and cannonballed into the pool. She made a huge, satisfying splash. When she came up for air, she could hear Veronica’s footsteps, first muffled, then clattering out onto the patio. Stevie swam
over to the closest side. She pulled herself out of the water, a triumphant grin on her face.

Too late Veronica appeared, shaking her fist in anger. “Stevie Lake! I’m going to have my mother—I’m going to see to it that you—”

“Yes?” Stevie taunted her.

But Veronica had stopped midthreat. Her look of rage dissolved into one of utter amusement. She laughed hysterically. She pointed at Stevie and laughed as if she would never stop.

Alarmed, Stevie stole a glance behind her. There was no one there. With a sinking feeling she looked down at her bathing suit. Or rather, what had been her bathing suit. The ancient garment had finally given up the fight. It had ripped right up one side. With increasing horror Stevie saw that it had split into two separate pieces. And the two separate pieces were flapping in the breeze.

The urge to run screaming from the patio hit Stevie full force. But she resisted. Instead she raised her head and sniffed loudly. Nose in the air, she walked at a dignified pace to the little pile that was her clothes. She pulled them on over the tatters of her wet bathing suit. She shoved her feet into her sneakers. “I believe I’ll be going now,” she said in the snobbiest voice she could muster.

With Veronica snorting hysterically behind her,
Stevie pushed open the gate in the fence surrounding the diAngelos’ pool area. She ran around to the front of the house and seized her bicycle. She got a running start up the driveway … and pedaled like mad, flat tire and all.

T
HAT AFTERNOON
C
AROLE
and Lisa were saddling school horses when Stevie burst into the barn. “Hi, guys, sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” Carole said.

“Yeah, we thought you were going to be working on, ahem, Part B of the project all day,” Lisa said.

“That was Plan A,” Stevie explained.

“
Part
B was
Plan
A?” Carole inquired skeptically.

“Right.”

“So what’s Plan B?” Lisa asked.

“Show up at Pine Hollow and hang out with you guys.”

“Uh-huh. And what happened with
Part
B?” asked Carole.

“Part B was a bust. I don’t have what it takes to be a spy,” Stevie admitted sadly. “After looking at nine million snapshots of the diAngelos’ vacations, something in
me
snapped.” Her voice grew grave. “I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Well, I hope you got valuable information before you left,” Carole said sternly.

“Yeah, or at least told Veronica off!” Lisa added.

“I did tell her off,” Stevie said. “But she got the last word anyway.” Briefly Stevie related the bathing suit incident.

“Malfunctioning equipment?” cried Lisa in mock indignation. “Your headquarters should have taken care of that!”