Stagecoach (10 page)

“I think the best part for me was watching Cam get second overall,” Carole said dreamily.

“That’s the difference between you two and us two,” Stevie said. “For me it was bad enough seeing Cross County win the whole darn thing, but if Phil had gotten an individual ribbon today, I probably would have had to go on a hunger strike.”

“Better Cross County than Sunny Valley,” Polly pointed out. She was stretched out way in the back of the wagon, gazing at her fifth-place-overall ribbon.

“Amen to that!” Stevie agreed. “Too bad Veronica’s written test and messy stall dropped them down to second place.”

“I can’t wait to tell Lisa that they lost on stable management,” Carole said. As soon as Stevie had finished her test, Lisa had run off to meet her mother’s waiting car. Dress rehearsal began at seven, and she had to be completely costumed and made up by six-fifteen.

“And I can’t wait even more to tell her about the special stable-management award we got,” Stevie added.

Carole thought for a minute. “You know what I can’t wait for the most? To see Lisa onstage.”

“Me, too,” Stevie agreed. “And we only have two hours to go.”

L
ATER THAT EVENING
Stevie and Carole took their seats in the small family-and-friends-only WCCT dress-rehearsal audience. They didn’t quite know what to expect, but they hoped Lisa would do well. Far from being disappointed, they were quite blown away by the whole play, and most especially by Lisa’s performance. She acted, sang, and danced her way through the musical as if she’d played Annie a hundred times. Stevie and Carole literally sat on the edges of their seats, trying to catch every word and clapping like crazy after every one of Lisa’s solos.

After the rehearsal they went backstage to congratulate her. Lisa was surrounded by the rest of the cast. Stevie and Carole had never felt as proud as they did
right then to be Lisa’s best friends. Lisa looked up from the theater group and saw them standing there.

“You were an incredible Annie, and we got a special stable-management award, and Sunny Valley PC lost because of Veronica!” Stevie cried, unable to contain herself any longer.

All of a sudden it got quiet. The cast stared at Stevie’s strange announcement. Then Lisa’s joyful shout broke the silence. “Yippee!” she yelled. “We did it!” She broke through the crowd to embrace her two friends.

“You must be Stevie and Carole,” Hollie said, coming up to introduce herself.

Carole smiled at the warm face and pretty brown curls. “And you must be Hollie—it’s great to meet you.”

“Want to go to TD’s, Little Orphan Annie?” Stevie asked.

Lisa nodded happily. She was exhausted, but she wouldn’t miss going for anything.

“Hollie, will you come, too?” Stevie asked.

Hollie declined politely. “Actually, I do have to get home tonight,” she said. “I’d love to come another time, but I have to say I’m a little nervous about watching you eat your famous sundae concoctions.”

“You should be,” Carole told her. “Going up onstage in front of hundreds of strangers can’t be half as terrifying as watching what goes down her throat.”

*   *   *

I
T DIDN
’
T TAKE
long for The Saddle Club to get from the high school to TD’s, and it took even less time for them to slide into their favorite booth.

“Well, I’ll be darned. She
looks
like your old friend—sort of,” the waitress said, looking Lisa up and down.

In their hurry to have a true Saddle Club reunion, Carole and Stevie had talked Lisa into leaving on all of her makeup and most of her costume. In the dimmer lighting she looked like a painted doll. Comments from the waitress weren’t going to get to them tonight, though.

“This is her evil twin,” Stevie shot back. “By the way, would you mind getting out a pencil to take my order? It’s going to be extremely complex, as I finally have my appetite back.”

The waitress smiled and grabbed the pencil from behind her ear. “Okay, shoot,” she said. “I’m actually kind of looking forward to this.”

Stevie grinned wickedly. “All right. Make mine one scoop each of peaches ’n’ cream, peppermint bonbon, and orange sherbet, drenched in chocolate, butterscotch, blueberry, and cherry syrups, topped with whipped cream, Butterfinger crunch, Oreo cookie sprinkles, chocolate sprinkles, shredded coconut, a sliced banana, six sliced strawberries, and, of course, a maraschino cherry.”

The waitress looked up from her pad. She rolled her
eyes. She shook her head. Then she took Carole and Lisa’s orders: a vanilla-and-chocolate swirl and a mint chip with hot fudge. “That’s more like it,” she muttered, going to fix the grossest Stevie Lake concoction yet.

The girls could hardly start gabbing fast enough. Maybe because they hadn’t had a real Saddle Club discussion for so long, the conversation took on a serious tone. They talked about being good at a lot of things versus being interested in only one, about making choices and balancing commitments. Lisa told Stevie that she thought the most generous thing she did was to give Prancer the experience of riding in the rally.

“I didn’t do it for Prancer, though,” Stevie said. “I did it for myself. I was getting a real swelled head about being so good on Topside. And we all know humility isn’t my strong suit.”

Lisa looked at her skeptically. “You really want me to believe you rode her to teach
yourself
a lesson?” she asked.

Stevie had plenty of time to think about her answer. The waitress arrived with their ice creams and gave Carole and Lisa their dishes. Stevie’s had too much stuff in it to fit in a regular bowl. The waitress hadn’t let that bother her, though. She had dumped everything into a metal dishwashing tub. She set the tub down in front of Stevie.

“Just do me a favor, okay?”

“Anything,” Stevie promised.

“Don’t let me see the look on your face when you finish eating that thing.”

Digging in happily, Stevie gave her word between mouthfuls. Finally she paused to respond to Lisa’s question. “I admit—disciplining myself wasn’t my real motive for riding Prancer,” she conceded.

“What, then?” Lisa asked.

“It was to do something for you—because you needed a friend,” Stevie said simply.

Lisa put her spoon down with a clink. “I’ve got the two best friends in the world, and you don’t have to lift a finger to prove it ever again. Just do
me
one favor, okay? Remind me occasionally that even though I like doing a lot of things, I can’t do them all at once or I’ll mess one of them up for sure.”

“Sure, Lisa. I’ll remind you when I call to recongratulate you on the stable-management award, that is,” Carole said. She pretended to be lost in thought for a minute. Then she said pensively, “The call will come at, let’s say, nine forty-four.”

“But—” Lisa objected.

“Nine forty-four,” Carole repeated. “Exactly.”