Sidesaddle (9 page)

Belle seemed to sigh with relief when the sidesaddle came off. Stevie took it back to the tack room and then returned to give her horse a quick grooming and some fresh water. When she was returning to Belle’s stall for a final good-bye, she passed the little mirror over the sink in the tack room and saw herself for the first time
in a couple of hours. She was startled. It was almost as if it weren’t Stevie who looked back at her.

The girl she saw wasn’t wearing a soiled T-shirt. She was wearing an ironed white blouse. She wasn’t wearing a torn sweatshirt. She was wearing a pale blue sweater with seed pearls. Sure, it had gotten a few smudges of dirt from the two tumbles she had taken, but it was still pale blue and pretty. The girl in the mirror didn’t have straight dirty blond hair. She had curls—a lot of them. She was Stevie, all right—the new and improved Stevie. She paused for a moment, smiling at the girl, who smiled back. She could almost imagine someone standing behind her—one Phil Marsten, smiling broadly, warmly, and lovingly. “Elegant, feminine, and charming,” Phil’s image seemed to say, squeezing her shoulders gently.

Filled with a new and improved confidence, Stevie bade Belle farewell and headed for home.

W
HEN
S
TEVIE GOT HOME
, her parents had returned from their visit with Mr. Lake’s friend. Stevie greeted them quickly and retreated upstairs. She barely registered her mother’s furrowed brow as she passed by.

Once out of the shower, Stevie slipped into a clean pair of jeans and a clean, carefully folded T-shirt, but as soon as she saw herself in the mirror, she changed her mind. That wouldn’t do at all. Neither would the droopy straight hair. She dried her hair, fluffing it with her fingers as best she could because she didn’t want to borrow her mother’s curling iron when her mother was at home. The finished product looked pretty good. Then it was time to choose her wardrobe for the rest of the day.

It took a while. In fact, it took a long time. Stevie hadn’t realized how totally devoid of suitable clothes her wardrobe was. Her mother was right. She needed some new clothes and she needed them right away. Finally she settled on her only non-denim pair of slacks, some yellow ones that were a little too big. She found a blouse that more or less went with them and a knit top. It wasn’t as nice as the blue sweater with seed pearls, but it would do.

She pulled on some socks and school shoes, since she didn’t want to wear sneakers, and went downstairs.

Her mother did a slight double take when she saw Stevie, but she said nothing. Stevie noticed it and took that as a compliment on her new fashion sense.

“Mom, you’re right about something.”

“Where’s the band and fireworks?” Mrs. Lake teased.

“Well, even a swell mom like you will be right about something every once in a while,” Stevie responded, going along with the joke.

“And it is …?”

“I need some new clothes.”

“Oh, I don’t know, sweetheart. Some of those jeans of yours, with the seven or eight tears on each leg—well, they’re just barely getting broken in. You should be able to get two or three more years of wear out of them.”

Stevie smiled, recognizing her own words. But that
had been before—long before—when she hadn’t realized what some good taste and a fresh look at her style could do for her.

“Well, but I was wondering if we could go shopping this afternoon?”

“You mean, like now?” Mrs. Lake asked, looking at the newspaper she was clearly intending to read.

“If that’s okay with you,” Stevie said.

“I will not miss an opportunity to take you shopping when you’re actually willing,” said Mrs. Lake. She stood up, grabbed the magazine section with the crossword puzzle in it, picked up her car keys and pocket-book, reached for a jacket, and said, “We’re off.”

Stevie followed her out the door.

The mall was a twenty-minute drive from their house. While they drove, Stevie tried to give her mother an idea of what she thought she needed: a couple of pairs of slacks, perhaps a skirt or two, some blouses that didn’t look like little-girl things or as if they were just for dress-up.

“But they might need to be ironed,” said Mrs. Lake.

“That’s okay,” Stevie said. “I don’t mind.”

Mrs. Lake drove back into the lane she’d been driving in before Stevie had stunned her.

“And I want some sweaters, too,” said Stevie.

“You’ve got drawers full of sweatshirts,” said Mrs. Lake.

“No, I mean like sweaters that go with the skirts and
the blouses, not just to keep warm, but, you know,
pretty
sweaters.”

“You mean, you want, like,
clothes
,” said Mrs. Lake.

“Right, that’s what I mean,” said Stevie.

“Wow,” said Mrs. Lake, pulling into a parking place by the mall’s main department store.

When they walked into the store, the first person they saw was Veronica diAngelo. Veronica rarely missed an opportunity to shop, but she usually did so at the more exclusive shops.

“Oh, what are you doing here?” Veronica asked rather disdainfully.

Before Stevie answered, the thought flashed through her head that Veronica was capable of asking the time of day disdainfully. Disdain was her principal attitude.

“I’m looking for some new clothes,” Stevie answered. And then, in a moment of weakness inspired by the fact that Veronica was always impeccably dressed, she asked: “Any suggestions where I should shop?”

“The Salvation Army Thrift Shop is on the other end of the mall, as you no doubt remember,” said Veronica.

Stevie opened her mouth to make a withering retort, but she stopped herself. Hassling with Veronica was definitely not elegant, feminine, or charming.

“Come on, Mom,” she said instead. “Let’s see what they have in the juniors’ department here.” The two of them headed for the escalator.

“What an ill-behaved child that Veronica is,” said Mrs. Lake. “She always reminds me of her mother.”

“Way to go, Mom!” Stevie agreed.

In the sweater area Stevie and her mother ran into Carole and Lisa.

“Hey!” Carole greeted her.

“Stevie’s shopping!” said Lisa.

“Well, I need some new clothes, but what are you two doing here?” Stevie asked. Happy as she was to see her friends, a small part of her had hoped to sort of surprise them with her new look. That was okay, though. They could be part of the change, and that would be just as much fun.

“When Dad and I finished touring the battlefield, I had so much information for Lisa on horses in the battle that I called her, and it turned out the best place for us to meet was right here. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“Nothing at all,” said Stevie.

“Um,” Mrs. Lake interrupted. The girls all looked at her. “If you three want to spend time together, I could go get myself a cup of coffee at the food court. And then you could come get me when you need me and my credit card.”

“Oh, sure,” said Lisa. “Shopping with Stevie’s easy: four pairs of jeans and six T-shirts and we’re done. We know where to find you.”

“Don’t forget the sweats,” said Carole.

“We’ll be fine,” said Stevie. Her mother waved good-bye to the girls and pulled the crossword puzzle out of her handbag.

“Okay, jeans first,” said Lisa.

“Nope,” Stevie said. “I’ve got all the jeans I need. T-shirts and sweats, too. No, what I need is some real clothes—like this,” she said, indicating her outfit.

“I thought you hated those pants because they’re too big for you,” Carole said.

“I thought you hated them because they’re ugly,” Lisa added.

“Well, I do hate them, but I want ones that are a decent fit and a nice color. I want clothes that are real clothes. It’s not a rule that I have to look like a slob
all
the time.”

“I’ve gotten so used to the slob look—” Carole began.

“Not
all
the time,” Lisa said sharply.

Carole changed directions. “Okay, well, we can find something that isn’t grungy that’ll be good for you. Why don’t we go over to Simpson’s?”

Simpson’s was a store that catered to juniors. It had a wide variety of clothes, and both Lisa and Carole liked the selection. Neither of them had ever thought it would interest Stevie, but perhaps today was an exception.

Stevie considered her friends’ general taste in clothes. She’d always known that the three of them
had personal styles as different as their personalities. Lisa always wore clothes that were extremely conservative but still fashionable. Most people would describe them as preppy. Carole’s clothes were simple, never fussy, and always neat and clean. That was surely inherited from her father’s Marine Corps sense of style. Stevie, on the other hand, tended to assemble outfits from among whatever was the cleanest in her closet, and sometimes the results were very interesting—hardly ever stylish, but definitely interesting. Now she was determined to make a change.

When the three of them entered Simpson’s, Lisa was immediately drawn to the rack of skirts and slacks, while Carole headed for the nearby stacks of button-downs. Stevie disappeared to look at the cotton sweaters.

“What do you think she wants?” Carole asked Lisa.

“Nice stuff, I guess. Look, here are some nice navy blue slacks. They’re permanent press, so they won’t wrinkle. But navy shows spills. Maybe something like gray would be better.” Lisa took a couple of pairs off the rack for Stevie to try on. Then she found some nice pleated skirts in soft plaids that might do for Stevie. She took those, too.

“And look at these turtlenecks,” said Carole. “This would go with the slacks, and this one with the skirts. Turtlenecks are great because you don’t have to iron them and they always look neat. Black goes with everything.
And this is a nice bright red. That’s a good color for Stevie. You’ve got to have a white. And this hunter green is sharp-looking.”

“Great stuff,” said Lisa. “Now let’s find Stevie.”

Laden with clothes, the two tracked down their friend. It took a while because Stevie had apparently found a dressing room at the far end of the store. It only took a little convincing before the salesperson let Carole and Lisa into the room with Stevie.

When Stevie opened the door for them, she had already put on her first outfit. She was wearing pale yellow wool slacks, a white blouse with a frilly collar, and a matching pale yellow angora sweater.

“Isn’t Phil just going to love this?” she asked.

Carole and Lisa were stunned. This was so unlike Stevie that it overwhelmed them, even more than the curly hair and the strange outfit had the day before.

Before she could stop herself, Lisa asked, “Phil who?”

“Marsten,” Stevie said, surprised that Lisa had to ask. “Is there another Phil who cares what I wear?”

“I’m sorry,” Lisa said. “I never thought Phil particularly noticed what you wore—I mean, not that he doesn’t care when you dress up for something, but most of the time the two of you are at a stable and—”

“
Angora
?” Carole interrupted

“It’s so
soft
!” Stevie said. “Here, feel it.” Carole obliged. It was soft. It just wasn’t Stevie. “And look at all these other wonderful clothes I found. I haven’t
tried them all on yet, but I know I’m going to love them! Coming to Simpson’s was a great idea!”

She pointed to the stack of slacks, skirts, blouses, and sweaters she’d found for herself. All pastel. There were three other angora sweaters—“Though of course I can’t buy them all,” Stevie confided. “But I know Phil will love everything. It’s just so wonderful to find exactly what I was looking for. Now, stand by while I try it all on and help me decide what I’ve got to have and what I can’t take, okay?”

Stunned to silence, Carole and Lisa sat down on the little seats in the dressing room and watched while Stevie put on and critiqued outfit after outfit. Lace, chenille, wool, crisp cotton. Iron, iron, dry clean, iron. Nothing wash-and-wear, and nothing that could ever be worn more than once before cleaning.

There was nothing wrong with any of the clothes. They were of good quality, and Stevie had found outfits that went together very nicely. They just didn’t go with Stevie—or at least with the Stevie her friends thought they knew.

As Stevie closed in on her choices, she sent Carole and Lisa out in search of her mother and her mother’s credit card.

“We’d better give her some warning,” Lisa said as they approached.

“About how Stevie’s body has been taken over by a pastel-loving alien?” Carole asked.

“We might try to find a nicer way to put it,” Lisa suggested.

Mrs. Lake looked up when the girls arrived at the table. “Is she done already?” she asked.

“Almost,” Carole said. “But I think she may surprise you a little bit.”

“She already has,” said Mrs. Lake. “I’ve never known her to actually
want
to buy anything other than jeans. I’ve sort of prepared myself that this is going to be a more expensive shopping trip than most.”

“Well, there’s that,” said Lisa. “And then …”

“Yes?”

“Well, there’s what she’s chosen,” said Carole. “It’s not her usual.”

“What good news,” said Mrs. Lake. “Isn’t it about time Stevie actually took some interest in clothes?”