Wild Horse (2 page)

“Speaking of haircuts,” Carole said, “let’s go finish pulling Delilah’s mane.”

“Good idea. We’d better do it before Max gets finished with his lesson or he’ll think we’ve been sitting on these hay bales all afternoon talking,” Stevie replied. The Saddle Club was so used to helping out at Pine Hollow that the stable’s owner, Max Regnery, not only expected it but demanded it. Before their afternoon ride, the girls had started to use a metal comb to pull out the long hairs from one of the horses’ manes. Now the mane was half short and half long.

“If we don’t get it done soon, Delilah will be the one who needs that free makeover,” Carole kidded as she and Stevie went to get the mare.

* * *

L
ISA
LEANED
BACK
in the front seat of the car and watched the pleasant suburban scenery roll by. Her mother was chatting excitedly about all the prominent women in Willow Creek who had started going to Cosmo Cuts. Lisa didn’t care, so she pretended to listen while losing herself in her own thoughts. She was glad her mother had come to pick her up even though Lisa had forgotten to call. Lisa hated to disappoint her mother. Even a small thing like, forgetting to call could make her mother feel bad. She tried so hard to give Lisa the best of everything, even though they didn’t have a lot of money, that Lisa hated to let her down.

The haircut was a perfect example. Her mother had been all excited about taking Lisa there. Lisa had always been perfectly happy going to the walk-in place at the Willow Creek mall, but when she saw how much it meant to her mother to switch to Cosmo Cuts, she had let her make the appointment. It wasn’t that big a deal—it was just typical of the way things went between them.

Cosmo Cuts was as elegant as Stevie had predicted. To Lisa it looked more like someone’s living room than a hair salon. After Mrs. Atwood disappeared with the makeup consultant, Lisa sat on a plush couch in the entry area waiting for her appointment. She looked
around curiously. The main room was bustling with chic, well-dressed women, many in business suits. Some were getting their hair cut, some were sitting under dryers, some were having manicures.

It was easy to tell who the famous Charles was. All the women chatted with him, no matter who was cutting their hair. He kept up a running conversation with half a dozen people, meanwhile styling his own client’s hair. The only other girl Lisa’s age was whining loudly to her mother as her hair was shampooed. Lisa listened in when she overheard the topic of conversation.

“Why can’t I have my own horse, Mother? Daddy said I could!” the girl wailed.

“Because you have to take riding lessons first,” the mother replied curtly.

“If you’re interested in riding lessons,” another woman spoke up from across the room, “the only place to go is Pine Hollow.”

“Watch it, Claire, keep your head steady,” Charles reprimanded the elegant, gray-haired woman.

“I completely agree,” said a third woman who was having her hair dyed blond. “The diAngelo girl rides there, you know.”

“Is that true?” said the girl’s mother. “She rides at Pine Hollow?”

“Absolutely. I hear she’s the star pupil. And Pine Hollow
might not look as fancy as Clover Farm or Hilldale, but that Max Regnery runs a tight ship, I’ll tell you.”

“You said it,” said the other woman. “And he’s not bad-looking, either.”

“Didn’t he marry that journalist from out of town?” Charles asked.

“Oh yes. They had a small, private ceremony at the farm. I hear—”

Lisa couldn’t stop herself from giggling. She wondered what Max would say if he knew he was being gossiped about at Cosmo Cuts. And it was too funny that the women thought Veronica was the star pupil! That was one rumor that had obviously been started by either Veronica or her mother. Before Lisa could muse any longer, a woman brought her a smock to put on over her clothes. “We’re ready for you now, Ms. Atwood,” she said.

For the next hour, Lisa thought of nothing but how much fun it was to go to a luxurious salon like Cosmo Cuts. She had a shampoo, a conditioning treatment, a cut by one of Charles’s assistants, a blow-dry, and, since she didn’t wear makeup, a complimentary manicure instead.

“So, what do you think?” Lisa’s mother asked her when they were heading out to the car. “Wasn’t it wonderful?”

Lisa weighed her words carefully. The afternoon
had
been a wonderful treat. Her haircut, however, came out the same way it always did, but for thirty dollars more. Lisa didn’t want to be ungrateful or say anything that would burst her mother’s bubble. “It was—really nice. Thanks a lot, Mom,” she said finally.

“I’m so glad you liked it!” Mrs. Atwood exclaimed. “I wanted you to look nice for your interview Saturday.”

Lisa looked sharply at her mother. “What interview?” she asked suspiciously. Mrs. Atwood had been known to sign Lisa up for things without telling her. This was the first Lisa had heard of any interview.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Mrs. Atwood asked. “We’re going to Wentworth Manor this weekend. We’re going to take a tour and then you’re going to have an interview.”

Lisa frowned. She wasn’t sure she understood. She thought she’d heard of Wentworth before, but she couldn’t say where. “What, exactly, is Wentworth Manor, and why am I having an interview there?” she asked.

“Wentworth Manor is one of the most famous girls’ schools in the country, dear. We’re very lucky to have gotten an interview for you,” Mrs. Atwood replied.

“Where is it?” Lisa asked.

“It’s in Richfield, about two hours from Willow Creek.”

“But I don’t get it,” Lisa said, taken aback. “Are we moving?”

Mrs. Atwood laughed. “Oh, no, dear. Your father and I are very happy in Willow Creek.”

“Then why am I having an interview at a school if there’s no chance I would ever go to it?” Lisa asked. Her mother had had some wild ideas in the past, but this one was the wildest yet.

“It’s a boarding school,” Mrs. Atwood explained patiently. “The girls live at the school.”

Lisa stared at her mother in alarm. “When did you decide you wanted me to go to boarding school?” she asked, shocked.

“It’s only an interview, honey. If you don’t like it—”

“But Mom,” Lisa interrupted, “why would you want me to leave home?”

“We don’t
want
you to leave home, but we would
let
you for your own benefit. And even having the interview is a wonderful opportunity that you should be grateful for.” Mrs. Atwood’s voice sounded a bit severe.

Lisa tried to formulate a response, but she couldn’t think fast enough. She was completely floored by her mother’s announcement.

Mrs. Atwood pursed her lips. “Look, probably nothing will come of this, but the school is interested in seeing you, and I arranged for you to have an interview, all
right? Wentworth is right in the heart of Virginia horse country, you know. Who knows? You may love it.” With that, she unlocked the car doors and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Lisa got in on her side. She was silent as her mother started the car and pulled out into the street. Her head was reeling. This had to be the most far-fetched idea her mother had ever had. Lisa could no sooner imagine herself going to a boarding school than she could imagine going to the moon! But then she realized something: Boarding schools cost thousands and thousands of dollars. A nice haircut now and then was one thing, but prep-school tuition was quite another.

“Uh, Mom?” she began cautiously. “Don’t schools like Wentworth cost a lot?”

Mrs. Atwood looked exasperated. “Well, ye-es. Anyway, the point is, we’ll have to see how you like it first,” she said briskly. “I thought you could spend some time with the girls to get a feel for the place. Maybe Saturday afternoon they could take you to see the stables. Imagine that, Lisa, the famous Wentworth stables! I know you’ve heard of them. I hear they’re magnificent.” She reached over and gave Lisa’s hand an excited squeeze.

Lisa stared at her mother again, but her mother’s eyes were fixed on the road. She had her I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer look on her face. Lisa knew she ought to put
an end to the whole idea right away. It would only upset her mother when she realized that they could never afford to send Lisa to the school and that even if they could, she would never want to go. Then Lisa had a second thought. Why should she ruin her mother’s plans after she had gone to so much trouble? One day at Wentworth wasn’t going to kill her. And now that she knew that it was the same Wentworth whose stables she had heard so much about, it might be interesting to see.

Besides, when it came right down to it, Lisa knew, she had absolutely nothing to worry about. For the first time in her life, she was glad beyond belief that her parents weren’t rich. With a resigned sigh, she sat back in her seat. “It sounds like fun, Mom,” she said.

S
TEVIE
GROANED
IN
self-pity. Here it was, only the third day of the term, and she couldn’t wait for summer vacation. Even though it was Friday, it had been the worst possible day imaginable. She’d missed the bus because she hadn’t been able to find her science book. Her mother had been annoyed that she had to drive Stevie to school and had lectured her the entire way. Then she’d been late anyway. Everybody had made jokes about Stevie’s being tardy on only the third day. Then her science teacher had made a joke about her forgetting her book on only the third day. “But I didn’t forget it, Ms.
Anderson, I
lost
it!” Stevie had said, before she realized how much worse that sounded.

In sports they had to do the fifty-yard dash. To the delight of Veronica diAngelo, Stevie had tripped and fallen and had the slowest time in the class, when usually she was in the top ten. At lunch, seeing signs in the cafeteria for the back-to-school dance had cheered her up the tiniest bit—until Alex and Chad informed her that the boys had decided the Fenton dances were lame and were planning to boycott this one.

For the final straw, now that the school day was over and she was about to escape to Pine Hollow, where she could share her miseries with Lisa and Carole, Stevie had found a note taped to her locker. Not just any note, but a note from the headmistress of the school:
Stevie, Please see me before you leave for the day—Miss Fenton.

Walking down the hall to the headmistress’s office, Stevie racked her brains, trying to figure out why she was in trouble. The only thing she could remember doing was telling Veronica that her new outfit made her look like walking wallpaper. Could Miss Fenton have found out about that? It would be just like Veronica to tell on Stevie. Maybe Stevie could feign innocence, or better yet, pretend she’d meant it as a compliment. Waiting on the bench outside the office, Stevie composed an extravagant
explanation. After a few minutes, Miss Fenton opened her door. She summoned Stevie inside.

“Now, Stephanie—”

“I know, Miss Fenton,” Stevie said breathlessly. “I know how bad it
sounds
, but, you see, I meant it as a compliment! I love wallpaper! Why, you should see the wallpaper at our house. It’s beautiful—all bright and flowery. How was I supposed to know she would take it the wrong way? I mean, I
am
sorry, but I really don’t think—”

“Stephanie, what in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Miss Fenton broke in.

Stevie smiled wanly. “You mean this isn’t about the wallpaper?”

“What wallpaper?” Miss Fenton demanded.

“Never mind—no wallpaper. You can forget all about the wallpaper, Miss Fenton,” Stevie croaked.

Miss Fenton sat down at her desk. She motioned for Stevie to sit down, too. She folded her hands, raised her right eyebrow, and looked sternly at Stevie. “If you mean to tell me that you and Veronica diAngelo are feuding already, I don’t want to hear about it. Put an end to it at once.”

“But—”

“Keep your distance from one another if you must.”

“Yes, Miss Fenton,” Stevie said, trying to sound contrite. “May I go now?”

“Go? No, you may not. I called you in here for a purpose, not for my own amusement. Would you like to hear why?”

“Yes, Miss Fenton,” said Stevie. She crossed her fingers, hoping the headmistress’s “purpose” wouldn’t be a huge pain.

“All right, then. I’m making you head of the back-to-school dance committee.”

Stevie sat forward in her chair. “Really? But what about the old dance committee?” For as long as Stevie had been going to the Fenton dances, the same handful of older boys and girls had been running them.

“They don’t want to do it anymore. With the boys threatening to boycott, they don’t feel appreciated. Besides, it’s time for some new blood. So I’m placing you at the helm. You’ll have to choose a cochair. The two of you will then pick a theme and organize the decorations, music, and refreshments. Naturally you can recruit other volunteers, too. Make sure you include some boys. And there’s not much time. Got it?”

“Got it,” Stevie said, flabbergasted. “But why me?”

Miss Fenton smiled for the first time. “It has come to my attention that you have a knack for organizing,
Stephanie. I’m trusting you to put some life into this back-to-school dance.”