Wild Horse (10 page)

“I can’t believe we’re putting Lisa’s fate into the diAngelos’ hands,” Carole said, finally putting her head on her pillow.

Without answering, Stevie got out of bed and began
to rummage through the wastebasket under her desk. “What are you doing?” Carole asked curiously.

“I’m hunting for that list of possible themes for the dance that Veronica gave me. It looks like we might have to have a ‘Princess of Fenton Hall’ dance after all—with you-know-who wearing the crown of honor!”

S
TEVIE
HAD
SWALLOWED
her pride many times before. She had begged for mercy and groveled for forgiveness. But the thought of groveling in front of Veronica made her feel physically ill. She was determined to keep the ball in her court. If she let on that Veronica was the key to their entire plan, Veronica would lord it over her no end. The next morning at school, Stevie planned her attack. She decided to catch Veronica on her way to lunch. She hoped Veronica would be hungry so that her defenses would be down.

First Stevie stalked her prey. The hall was bustling with students, but Veronica stood out in her brand-new sweater and skirt, with her elaborately coiffed black hair. Sometimes Stevie wondered if she ever wore the same thing twice or just threw her clothes out after a day at school. Once Stevie located her, she doubled back down the hall as fast as she could so that she could run into Veronica—literally. “Oh, excuse me!” Stevie said, looking up at the last minute.

“Very funny,” Veronica said sarcastically.

“I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Stevie protested, “honestly.”

“Sure, Stevie,” Veronica said. “I’ll believe that the day you make me head of the dance committee.”

Stevie couldn’t believe the opening Veronica had given her. It was too good to be true. “Then I guess you’ll have to believe me, because I decided last night, and you’re my cochair.”

Instead of jumping for joy, Veronica looked suspiciously at Stevie. Stevie knew that now was her moment to shine. If she acted strange about it, Veronica would guess she was up to something. “Yup. I thought about it,” Stevie said nonchalantly, “and I figured you’re the right person for the job.”

Veronica narrowed her eyes. She looked unconvinced.

“Even after yesterday? Stevie, if this is some kind of a joke—”

“It’s not a joke. Look, we both know we’re not best friends, right?”

“That’s for sure,” Veronica said with a short laugh.

“Well, that’s the whole point,” Stevie said.

“What is?” Veronica asked.

“I want this dance to be great. And in order for it to be great, a lot of people have to come. So it would be stupid for me to pick one of my friends to be cochair. A friend would only bring in the same crowd that I would. But if I pick you, you’ll bring in a whole other crowd of people.” To herself, Stevie added,
A whole crowd of snobs and jerks.

Veronica was many things, but she wasn’t stupid. Stevie watched her face and could see that she understood the logic behind Stevie’s plan. Stevie was rather impressed with the plan herself. Miss Fenton would have to be convinced that the two of them could work together without killing each other, but Stevie wasn’t worried about that—she’d been sweet-talking her elders for as long as she could remember, with great results.

“All right. I guess I’ll do it,” Veronica said. “If you need me that badly.”

Stevie could tell that Veronica was trying to hide her
excitement. After swearing at Pine Hollow that she wouldn’t take the job, she wouldn’t want to let on how happy she was to get it now.

“There’s just one little thing you have to do,” Stevie said, moving in for the kill.

“I think I’ve already done quite enough,” Veronica said, bristling.

“Oh, don’t worry. This is easy. When are your and your mother’s next appointments at Cosmo Cuts?” Stevie asked.

Veronica sneered. “What, you want my mother to treat you to a cut there? Your hair could sure use some help, but couldn’t you ask your own mother?”

“Just tell me when you’re going,” Stevie said, her patience ebbing fast.

“What’s today? Wednesday? So it’s tomorrow—my mother goes Thursdays at four, and I go at four-thirty. We have to stagger our appointments because we’ll both only go to Charles. He’s the best, you know. He …”

Stevie reeled for a minute at the news that they only had a day to organize everything. But recovering herself, she took Veronica by the arm and led her down the hall. When Veronica had finished going on about Charles, Stevie said, as casually as possible, “Here’s what you have to do.…”

* * *

C
AROLE
WAITED
ANXIOUSLY
at TD’s, the local ice cream parlor. She was sitting alone in The Saddle Club’s usual booth. It was just four o’clock. She knew Stevie would get there any minute, but she was worried about Lisa. Lisa had been reluctant to meet them. She’d told Carole that she didn’t want to get into another argument with Stevie about Wentworth. And even though she’d finally agreed to come, Carole couldn’t relax until she’d walked in the door.

At five after, Lisa arrived, followed by Stevie. Carole breathed a sigh of relief. Once they were all seated, Carole and Stevie looked at one another. Stevie nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Lisa,” Carole began, “we got you here under false pretenses.”

Lisa frowned but stayed silent, letting Carole continue.

Carole spoke quietly but urgently, turning so that she could look right at Lisa. “We got you here to tell you that we have a plan. We think we know a way to save you from going to Wentworth without upsetting your mother. But what we have to know is the bottom line: Do you want to be saved?”

Lisa swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said in a dry voice.

“Yippee!” Stevie shouted at the top of her lungs.

One of the waitresses walked lazily over to them. “I take it you want to order,” she asked, totally unfazed by Stevie’s outburst.

“Actually, we still need about five minutes,” Stevie said meekly.

“Sure, kids, whatever,” the waitress said, retreating to the counter.

“So, you don’t want to go there?” Carole asked.

Lisa shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She looked at Stevie, then looked down. “I feel silly admitting it now, after I made such a fuss, but no, I don’t want to go to Wentworth.” At Stevie and Carole’s expectant looks, she went on, “I dread going there. I’d hate it—I know I would. I’d miss my parents and you guys and Prancer and Max and Mrs. Reg and my teachers more than I can imagine. Heck, I’d even miss the obnoxious boys who take over the student lounge. But I told my mother the school was nice because she made such a big effort to get me accepted there, with a scholarship.” By this time Lisa was half laughing, half sobbing—it was such a relief to talk to Carole and Stevie again.

Carole put an arm around Lisa. Stevie muttered something about being sorry for interfering. Lisa refused to accept the apology. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” she said.

With the air cleared, Stevie got down to the plan.
Listening intently, Lisa interrupted to ask a question. “How do I get my mother to go there tomorrow, though?”

“Tell her you want her to look especially nice now that she’s going to be a Wentworth mom, so you’re treating her to a shampoo and set,” Stevie said.

“A shampoo and set won’t last a whole week, though,” Lisa pointed out.

Stevie smiled. Normally she hated to find problems with her schemes, but it was so great to have Lisa back on the scene that she didn’t mind. “Okay, how about a manicure, then?”

Lisa shook her head. “She does her own nails.”

“I’ve got it,” Carole said. “A facial.”

“Great idea,” Stevie said. “Facials are really special, aren’t they? I know my mom only gets them, like, once a year.”

Lisa grinned. “Yeah, they’re so special they cost around sixty dollars.”

Stevie winced. “Ouch.”

“But if we all chip in, that’s only twenty apiece,” Carole said. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Stevie said. Then she added sheepishly, “As long as I can borrow twenty dollars.”

Lisa and Carole laughed. They were both savers, but
they knew that money burned a hole in Stevie’s pocket. “Are you sure it’s not too much?” Lisa asked.

“Of course we’re sure. Think of what we’ll save in stamps and long-distance phone calls,” Carole said.

“Okay, so a facial it is. But what if I’can’t get an appointment for four o’clock? That salon is so popular, you usually have to wait weeks,” said Lisa.

Stevie’s hazel eyes twinkled. “We’ll solve that right now,” she said. She got up and went to the pay phone in the corner of the ice cream parlor.

“What do you think she’s doing?” Lisa asked.

“Turning on the Stevie Lake charm,” Carole guessed.

A few minutes later Stevie rejoined them at the table. “Boy, they’re tough at Cosmo Cuts. But I got the appointment. At quarter past four tomorrow, which, by the way, is your mother’s birthday,” Stevie told Lisa.

“It is?” Lisa asked. “You told them it was my mother’s birthday?”

“Yes, and you forgot to make the appointment and you felt terrible because you saved up your money for weeks to get her this facial and you’d never forgive yourself if she couldn’t go tomorrow. Just a little white lie.”

“That’s all it took?” Carole asked.

“That and some fake crying,” Stevie said with a grin.

“Nice work,” Carole said. “It’s too bad we won’t be there to watch the scene take place.”

“Not be there? What do you mean?” Stevie asked.

“We can’t be there, Stevie! It would be way too obvious that something strange was going on if you and I just happened to be hanging out at the salon tomorrow,” Carole said.

“You’re right,” Stevie said glumly. “The best part of my plan was going to be watching it put into action. I guess we’ll have to hear what happens from Lisa.”

“You kids ready to order yet?” the waitress asked, reappearing in front of them.

“We sure are,” Stevie replied, perking up. “Girls?”

“I’ll have a small chocolate cone with chocolate sprinkles,” Lisa said.

“And I’ll have a dish of mint chip,” Carole said.

“And I’ll have the peanut butter special,” said Stevie.

“We don’t have a peanut butter special,” the waitress said flatly.

“I know: I’m making it up,” Stevie replied. “Let’s see … one scoop each of strawberry and fudge ripple ice cream with marshmallow and pineapple topping, chocolate sprinkles, and a cherry.”

“There’s no peanut butter in there,” the waitress said.

Stevie smiled patronizingly. “Of course not,” she said. “That’s why it’s special.”

“Y
OU
REALLY
SHOULDN
’
T
have spent your money, dear,” Mrs. Atwood said as she and Lisa sat down in the waiting area at Cosmo Cuts.

“I wanted to, Mom,” Lisa said, looking around anxiously. She had been a complete wreck all day, worrying about the plan. First her mother had refused the gift, saying it was too much for Lisa to spend. Then, once Lisa had talked her into it, she had thought it was strange that Lisa wanted to come. So Lisa had made up some excuse about how nice the salon was—how she would enjoy going there just to hang out for a while. Carole and Stevie had agreed that since they couldn’t be
present, Lisa had to be. Somebody had to make sure Veronica played her part.

Now that they were there, Lisa could hardly believe that she’d gotten her mother over to the salon on time. Thankfully, Veronica and her mother were already there. Veronica was getting her nails done while her mother sat in Charles’s chair in the middle of the room. Lisa put up a hand and waved at Veronica. In response Veronica gave the barest nod in her direction.

Lisa sat down and began to flip through a magazine. She couldn’t concentrate on the articles or even the pictures. The weirdest part of the plan was that she and Veronica were sort of on the same side. Stevie had assured her that Veronica wouldn’t mess up, but Lisa was worried all the same. What if Veronica never said anything? Or what if Lisa’s mother failed to hear for some reason? Or if Mrs. diAngelo didn’t take the bait? What if she had changed her mind about Wentworth and said she loved the place?