Schooling Horse (2 page)

Suddenly Prancer threw her head up. She craned her neck around to get a closer look at whatever had caught her attention. Lisa sighed. It was nothing—just a horse trailer pulling into the driveway. Prancer was being so annoying!

Max looked over at the horse trailer, too. “That’s enough of a lesson for today,” he told the students. “Cool your horses out while I deal with our new arrival. Lisa, don’t forget to come talk to me later.”

“Did you buy a new horse, Max?” Stevie asked.

“Sort of. This horse is here on trial.” Max let himself out of the ring and walked toward the trailer.

“What does that mean?” Stevie asked her friends.

“It means the horse might stay, and it might not,” Carole said.

“No kidding,” Stevie said. “I just meant, why did Max say it that way? Usually when we get a new horse, either it’s a boarder belonging to someone else or Max has already bought it.”

“I don’t know,” Carole said. “Maybe there’s something special about this horse.”

Lisa watched as the man who had driven the truck backed the horse carefully out of the trailer. “It looks like
something special,” she said. The horse was a nearly white gray with a fine, intelligent-looking face and long, slender legs. “It looks like a Thoroughbred.”

The horse pricked its ears and studied its new surroundings curiously. Max walked up to it and held out his hand. The horse laid its ears back and danced sideways, away from Max. The other man spoke to it, and the horse stood still.

Carole nodded. “I bet you’re right. I wonder if it’s a gelding or a mare. I wonder what its name is.”

“Max will tell us,” Stevie said. “But right now we want you to tell us what’s wrong.”

Carole nodded. “Inside the barn,” she said.

Stevie and Lisa dealt with their horses quickly, then met just outside Starlight’s stall. Inside, Carole had taken off Starlight’s saddle but not his bridle. She was standing with her arms around his neck and her face buried in his mane. Her shoulders were quivering.

“Carole!” Stevie gave her a hug. “Whatever it is, we’ll help.”

Carole took a step backward and brushed the few remaining tears from her eyes. “I know,” she said. “Thanks—I can use your help, for sure. And it helps to have a horse to hug. It’s French.”

“Your horse is French?” Stevie asked. That didn’t sound right.

Carole laughed shakily. “No. My problem is French. French class.”

“Ah,” Stevie said. “But I thought you said you liked
that class.” Stevie went to Fenton Hall, a private school, so she never had the same teachers as Lisa and Carole, who went to Willow Creek’s public school.

“I do,” Carole said. “But I’m
failing.
”

“Failing? You can’t be failing. Carole, that’s ridiculous.” Lisa frowned. Carole was smart, and even though she was sometimes absentminded, she usually did well in school. Lisa tried to remember what she’d heard about the introductory French classes at school. She was a year ahead of Carole, but she was taking Spanish, not French.

“I failed today,” Carole said. She kicked at the loose straw in Starlight’s stall. “We had another oral presentation—we just started those, but we’re going to have two or three a week from now on—and I failed it. I actually got an F.” Her voice trembled.

“I’ve actually gotten an F one or two times before,” Stevie said. “It wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t the end of the world.”

“But Stevie, I was trying!” Carole said. “I studied hard!”

“Oh,” Stevie said. “Ouch. That’s different.”

“How long has this been a problem?” Lisa asked. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

Carole unbuckled Starlight’s bridle and smoothed his forelock. “It just started,” she said. “See, I like French, and I like my teacher, and when school began he just had us all speaking in a group. He’d tell us sounds or words, and the whole class would recite them in unison. That was okay. And I’m doing fine in the written and listening
parts. But now we have to get up in front of the class and speak it all by ourselves, and I just can’t. My voice doesn’t make those sounds. Last week I got a C in my first dialogue and a D in my second. I practiced all evening for this one, and then I couldn’t sleep … and then I got an F.”

Lisa patted Carole’s arm. “That must have felt horrible,” she said. “But it is something we can help you with. We don’t know French—”

“I can help with Latin,” Stevie suggested. “
Meus equus est delicia nominatus Belle.
That’s Latin for, ‘My horse is a sweetheart named Belle.’ My Latin teacher helped me translate it. It’s actually a difficult translation, see, because—”

Lisa gave Stevie a look. Sometimes Stevie didn’t know when to be quiet.

“Sorry,” Stevie said, subsiding quickly. “But Lisa’s right. We’ll find a way to help.”

“Thanks,” Carole said. “I was afraid you guys would think I was stupid. You can’t imagine how awful it feels to try and try to learn something and still not be able to. When I did my dialogue today, three people laughed. I felt so humiliated.”

“We’ll never laugh,” Stevie said. “You know that.”

Carole nodded. “Yes, I do. And that does help.”

“I felt pretty stupid today, too,” Lisa said. “Did you see me and Prancer? I could not get her under control.”

“I think she’s in heat,” Carole said.

“I do, too,” Lisa said. “Even so, she was ridiculous.”

“Let’s go see Max about it,” Stevie suggested. “Then, Carole, we’ll talk tonight about your French problem. We’ll brainstorm.”

They walked into the office. “Hey, Max,” Stevie said, “what’s the name of the new horse?”

Max smiled. “Well,” he said, “for now he’s called Au Lait, but I have to say I don’t much like the name.”

“Olé?” Carole asked. “Like what they say in bullfights?”

“No, Au Lait,” Max said. He wrote it out on the office chalkboard. “It’s French for ‘with milk.’ I guess because of his color.”

Carole shook her head. “I should have taken Spanish.”

“Lisa,” Max asked, “would you like to ride someone else for a little while?”

Lisa sat down. “Do you really think we were that bad?” she asked.

“No,” Max said. “In fact, I think you handled a difficult situation pretty well. You know Prancer’s in heat?”

Lisa nodded.

“But you seemed pretty upset about her behavior,” Max continued. “You got frustrated a little more quickly than you usually do.”

“She was bugging me,” Lisa said. “I don’t know why.”

“So why don’t you ride another horse for a week or so?” Max suggested. “You and Prancer can both have a rest from each other, and you’ll learn some different things by riding a different horse.”

Lisa thought about his suggestion. In a way it made her feel better, but in a way it made her feel worse. “Wouldn’t I be giving up on Prancer?” she asked.

“Of course not,” Max said. “It would just be a little vacation, and you could ride her again whenever you wanted to. I’d like to say you could ride Derby, but you know Mrs. Bradley’s planning to take him in a show next month.”

“Yes.” Lisa sighed. She’d ridden Derby over the summer and liked him quite a lot. Mrs. Bradley was an older woman who’d recently started riding at the barn.

“It’s her first show, and she’s nervous about it,” Max explained. “She’s been riding Derby every day. I’d like her to be able to keep doing that. But you could take Topside, if you want.”

“He’s a lot of fun, Lisa,” Stevie said. Topside was Stevie’s old favorite.

“Maybe,” Lisa said. “Can I let you know tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Max said. “And don’t let yourself get too discouraged. Bright times are ahead.”

M
AX CAN SAY
what he wants
, Lisa thought as she quietly let herself into her house.
I still feel lousy.

“Of course, Max,” Lisa heard her mother say. “I don’t want her finding out until everything is settled.” Lisa’s ears pricked up. She set her backpack on the floor very quietly and crept down the hall. Why was her mother talking to Max? Lisa peeked into the kitchen.

Her mother was on the phone. “The most important
thing is that it suits Lisa,” Mrs. Atwood said firmly. “I really don’t want to make a mistake about this. Thank you, Max, I knew you’d understand.” She hung up.

“Hi, Mom,” Lisa said, walking into the room. “Who were you talking to?”

Mrs. Atwood spun around. “Oh … nobody,” she said. “Nobody important. How was your day?”

“Nobody important” was named Max. Lisa went up to her room, wondering what her mother was keeping secret, and why.

“A
UJOURD
’
HUI
,” C
AROLE
said. “That is a word. Can you believe it? I can’t believe it. I certainly can’t pronounce it.”

“It sounded fine to us,” Stevie said. The Saddle Club was having a three-way phone conversation after dinner that evening. The phones at Stevie’s house had all the latest gadgets, and she usually called her friends every night.

“Well, it’s not.” Carole sounded ready to spit. “I’ve heard the way it’s supposed to be pronounced, and trust me, I’m not even close. The middle is supposed to kind of slurp, like you’re swallowing it up, only you roll the
r
, and the end is supposed to be almost a whistle.”

“See,” Lisa said, “you know exactly what you’re supposed
to be doing. You must be paying close attention.”

“It’s no help to know what I’m supposed to be doing if I can’t do it,” Carole said. “I can’t roll my
rs
or make that little slurp. I tried it so much tonight my dad thought I had indigestion.”

“They shouldn’t have hard words like that in introductory French,” Stevie said. “It’s not fair.”

“It means ‘today,’ ” Carole said. “That’s all it means.”

“Oh,” said Stevie.

“I’ve got a whole dialogue to learn, and I can’t pronounce any of it. Listen to this.” Carole read several lines into the phone.

“Sounds like French to me,” Stevie said.

“It wouldn’t if you knew anything about French,” Carole said.

“Which we don’t,” Lisa reminded her. “We’re sorry, Carole, but we don’t know what sounds correct and what doesn’t. That’s probably not something we can help you with.”

“I know,” Carole said. “I’m sorry, too; I don’t mean to be rude. But I don’t know what to do. My dad learned two languages in the Marine Corps, and do you know what they are? Vietnamese and Mandarin! What use is that? And my mom was actually a French major in college. It seems so unfair.” Carole’s mother had died several years before. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do!” Carole’s voice rose to a tone of despair.

“I know it must be really unpleasant for you to get an
F,” Stevie said, “and I understand how awful it would be to get up in front of your class and do poorly. But I think you’re letting yourself get a little too upset. It’s just one part of one class.”

“Except that it’s a very important part,” Carole replied. “My teacher says we have to be able to speak French at level one in order to go on to level two next year. He says if we fail the oral part of the class, we fail the whole class.”

“Oh no,” Lisa said. “You don’t want to fail.”

“I
can’t
fail,” Carole said. “Think about it! What would Max do?”

For a moment there was complete silence on all three ends of the phone. “Wow,” Stevie whispered at last. “I never thought of that.”

“Max’s academic policy,” Lisa said.

“That’s right,” Carole said.

Max took a very strict line with his young riders at Pine Hollow. Schoolwork always had to come before riding. Anyone who got less than a C in any subject wasn’t allowed to ride at the barn until the grade had improved.

“He wouldn’t kick you out of the barn,” Lisa said. “Not you, Carole. He couldn’t.”

“He’d have to,” Carole said. “Max always follows his own rules. I’d have to move Starlight to another stable.… I wouldn’t be able to ride with you guys.… I couldn’t belong to Horse Wise.…” Her voice trailed off in misery.

“We’ll never let that happen,” Stevie promised.

“Never,” Lisa said. She couldn’t imagine Pine Hollow without Carole. “There’s got to be something we can do to help.”

“Maybe you could figure out a way to relate French to horses,” Stevie suggested. “You never have any problem learning anything about horses.” Carole knew more obscure horse facts than anyone else Stevie’d ever met.

“Horses don’t speak French,” Carole said.

“Or English,” Lisa added. Max reminded them of that every time he caught them chatting to their mounts.

“But they have a language,” Stevie protested. “The way they move their ears and snort and stuff.”

“True, but hardly useful,” Carole said. “I’ve learned to communicate with Starlight just fine, and it didn’t require that I learn to whinny. Good thing, too. I probably couldn’t pronounce that right, either.”

“You know,” said Lisa, who had been thinking seriously about Carole’s problem while Stevie blathered on about horses, “maybe you should use a tape recorder. In Spanish class, we always listen to a tape of the dialogues we have to say. Do you do that?”

“Sure,” said Carole. “That’s how we know how they’re supposed to sound.”

“Maybe you could make yourself a copy of the class tapes,” Lisa said. “Then you could bring it home and listen to it over and over. And you could tape yourself saying the dialogues and find out exactly what you’re doing wrong. It would be a lot of work—”