Silver Stirrups (8 page)

And as Carole combed her hair and went down the stairs, her self-pity seeped away and was replaced with a new determination: a die-hard determination to beat Andrea at Briarwood, no matter what. To prove, once and for all, that she, Carole Hanson, was the undisputed
best junior rider in the region. And there was only one way to do that: to win the Silver Stirrups Trophy.

A
S
L
ISA HAD PREDICTED
, her mother was happy to drive Andrea home. In the car, Andrea was quiet, so Lisa chatted happily about the show. She mentioned Andrea’s two firsts, as well as her own sixth in jumping. Lisa had also gotten a third on the flat. With Carole sitting out and Stevie riding sloppily, Lisa had been the only member of The Saddle Club to place in the second class.

“Congratulations, dear,” said Mrs. Atwood. “And congratulations to you, Andrea,” she added, clearly impressed.

“Thank you,” Andrea said softly.

“You must have ridden exceptionally well to beat Carole Hanson. She’s a wonderful rider,” Mrs. Atwood remarked. She, like the other Pine Hollow parents, was used to hearing about Carole’s successes.

“Mom!”
Lisa whispered, mortified.

“Oh, that’s okay,” said Andrea. “I was surprised I beat Carole in the first class, too. Everybody has told me how good she is. I’m sure the only reason I won was that she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Lisa tells me that you’re starting at the junior
high,” Mrs. Atwood continued. “I think you’ll find it’s an excellent school.”

“My mom has to say that,” Lisa said apologetically. “She’s the head of the P.T.A.”

Andrea didn’t seem to find the joke funny. She stared straight ahead, barely nodding.

Mrs. Atwood gave Lisa a reproving look. “Do you think your mother or father would like to join the P.T.A.?”

Andrea opened her mouth, then seemed to hesitate. “I—”

“It’s not a big time commitment,” Mrs. Atwood pressed on. “We have meetings once a month. In fact, there’s one this coming Wednesday. Why don’t I give your mother a call?”

“No! Don’t do that!” Andrea cried.

Mrs. Atwood turned her head around in surprise.

“My mother’s dead!” Andrea blurted out.

Lisa gulped for air. She could hardly believe what Andrea had just said. She could see her mother was at a loss for words, too. Mrs. Atwood pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. She turned to Andrea. Finally, she spoke. “Andrea, I’m so terribly sorry. I had no idea.”

“I know. I never know how to tell anyone,” Andrea said in a whisper.

“When did she die?” Mrs. Atwood asked gently.

“A year ago,” Andrea said. “She—she was in a car accident. It was the middle of winter, and the streets were icy.”

Mrs. Atwood put a comforting hand on Andrea’s. After a few minutes of silence, she started the car and drove on. Lisa felt like an idiot. She still couldn’t think of anything to say. She felt so sorry for Andrea! The only person who would understand what Andrea had gone through was Carole. Carole had lost her mother to cancer a few years before. Lisa was in such a daze that she hardly knew when they pulled up outside Andrea’s house. She looked out the window. The house was small and dark. It didn’t look as if anyone was home.

“I hate to leave you alone, dear,” Mrs. Atwood said. “Why don’t you come to our house for dinner?”

Lisa felt a rush of gratitude toward her mother for being so nice.

“No—no, thank you. I’m used to coming home alone,” Andrea said. “See?” She reached underneath her shirt and pulled out a key on a ribbon. “I can let myself in.”

Despite Mrs. Atwood’s arguments, Andrea seemed determined to stay by herself. Lisa and her mother watched from the car as she walked up to the house
and disappeared through the front door. In a minute or two, a light went on inside and they saw Andrea wave.

As they drove home, Lisa was silent. She couldn’t begin to sort through all she’d learned about Andrea Barry in the past ten minutes. Here she had assumed Andrea was a rich, happy-go-lucky girl with nothing to worry about other than where the next blue ribbon was coming from. “It’s funny, her house was a lot smaller than I would have guessed,” Lisa mused aloud.

Mrs. Atwood eyed her sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Snapping to attention, Lisa realized how bad her comment must have sounded. She hastened to explain. “It’s just that—well, her horse—and all her riding stuff is so nice that I thought—”

“That’s a thought you may want to keep to yourself,” Mrs. Atwood said.

“But—” Lisa started to say.

“Families spend their money on different things,” Mrs. Atwood rebuked her. “It’s not your business to ask why.”

At home, Mrs. Atwood told Lisa to call Andrea to make sure she was all right. Lisa was glad to obey. She called Information, got the Barrys’ number, and dialed it. Andrea answered in a muted voice.

“Andrea? It’s Lisa. We just wanted to make sure you were—you were—” Lisa faltered. Of course Andrea wasn’t
okay.
Who could be okay when her mother had died a year ago? “Umm, I just called to say hi and welcome you to Pine Hollow again.”

“Thanks, Lisa. And listen, please don’t tell anyone about my mom, okay? I don’t want people to feel sorry for me.”

“But I—”

Once again Lisa’s protests were cut short. “I have to go. My dad came home and he’s trying to go to sleep. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

With that, Andrea hung up, and the silence of the dead air filled Lisa’s ear.

A
FTER THE HUBBUB
of the schooling show, Pine Hollow seemed unusually quiet on Sunday. The Saddle Club had agreed to meet in the afternoon. They weren’t planning to ride, but there was plenty of other stuff they could do to get ready for Briarwood, which was now less than a week away.

This was the part of riding that Stevie was less than keen on. She just couldn’t get as excited as Carole about rolling leg bandages and clipping the hair in Belle’s ears. On the other hand, Stevie thought, heading into the tack room, she also didn’t get as worked up as Carole did about being the best.

Stevie had thought a lot about what Lisa had said,
and she thought she was right: Carole was jealous of Andrea. What Stevie didn’t understand was why it mattered who was number one. Why did Carole and Lisa
care
so much? Why didn’t they realize that the important thing in life was to have fun?

Inside, the tack room was the picture of Atwood organization. Lisa had arrived early and posted lists of everything they would need at the show. Beside each item she had put one of their names to show who was responsible for doing what. Stevie looked at the first item on the first list.

With a sigh, Stevie went to get the long cotton wraps from the storage space above the tack room. Before loading the horses into the Pine Hollow van, the girls would wrap their legs for protection. But the bandages themselves had to be rolled first so that they could be unrolled around the horses’ legs. Picking up the first one and smoothing it out on her lap, Stevie went to work.

“Hey, you actually read my list!” Lisa exclaimed. She came in and shut the door behind her.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? When have I ever deviated from authority?” Stevie demanded, in mock seriousness.

“If I answered that question completely, we’d still be standing here next week and we’d miss Briarwood,” Lisa responded, not missing a beat.

Stevie flashed her a grin. “Speaking of missing Briarwood, I wish Red didn’t have to.”

“Did someone mention Briarwood?” Stevie and Lisa turned.

It was Carole. She had come early, too, to give Starlight a once-over. She was hoping that her new attitude would show clearly. There would be no more feeling sorry for herself—only pure determination to win the following weekend.

“Yeah. We were just saying that it’s too bad Red doesn’t have a horse for Briarwood,” Stevie said.

“Oh,” said Carole. She didn’t have time to feel sorry for Red now, either. If he wanted a horse badly enough, he would find one.

“It’s strange,” Lisa said, making a few check marks on the lists, “but there’s no one for him to ride. Max has school horses—they’re
too
quiet. He has young horses—they’re not ready. He has ponies—they’re too small. But he doesn’t have a nice, big, talented, trained horse who can jump.”

“What about the boarders?” Carole asked impatiently. “Can’t one of them lend Red a horse?”

Lisa stopped what she was doing and looked at Carole. She was surprised by Carole’s tone of voice. “They could, but Red doesn’t want to ask. And anyway, Kismet is the best.”

“Then the best isn’t great,” Stevie remarked, “judging from the trouble he gave Red yesterday.”

“If only there were another Starlight in the barn,” Lisa said wistfully.

“Well, there isn’t,” Carole said flatly.

Lisa looked hard at Carole. Did Carole think she’d been hinting? She would never even have mentioned Starlight if she’d thought twice. She knew how important Briarwood was to Carole. “Carole, I wasn’t suggesting—”

“Good,” Carole said. She folded her arms across her chest. “Then don’t. Because even one extra class could jeopardize Starlight’s performance.”

After a pause, Lisa said, her voice cold, “I know that.”

Carole wasn’t so sure she did. What did Lisa expect—that she would sit back and let Andrea win the trophy? Because that was exactly what would happen if Starlight got strung out from being shuffled back and forth between riders.

“Guys?” Stevie said with a wan smile. “Don’t you think we ought to get started on these lists? We’ve got a lot to do before Saturday.”

Stevie’s attempt to change the subject didn’t fool anyone, but both Carole and Lisa were glad to take her suggestion. They worked quietly for fifteen or twenty minutes, checking things off the first list, such as
Find horse show saddle pads
and
Mix fly spray and fill spray bottles.
Things almost seemed back to normal. Then Andrea Barry appeared.

Lisa greeted her warmly, praying that Carole would follow suit. “Do you want to help us get organized for the show?” she asked. That would be a perfect way for Andrea to get to know Stevie and Carole in a non-competitive environment.

But Andrea looked uncertain. “Are you going to be here in an hour? No, wait—in two hours?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to say how long it will take us,” Lisa replied. She was very conscious that Carole was listening. She wished Andrea would agree to help, even for half an hour. Otherwise, Lisa knew, she would come off sounding like a spoiled brat.

“Well, I’d love to help, but I have a lesson in fifteen minutes,” Andrea explained.

“A lesson?” Lisa said, not comprehending.

“Yes—a lesson with Max,” Andrea said.

Stevie jumped in to help sort things out. “We have lessons on Wednesdays,” she informed Andrea. “Unless you’re talking about Horse Wise—Pony Club, I mean. Those lessons are on Saturdays.”

Now Andrea looked truly uncomfortable. “I—I know. This is a—a private lesson.”

“Wow! You’re taking a private lesson with Max?” Stevie said enthusiastically. “That’s great!”

Sounding relieved, Andrea explained that she was used to having private lessons at home. “I thought I might as well try to keep to the same schedule as much as possible—at least until Briarwood,” she added.

“Good idea,” Stevie said generously. It was rare, but not unheard of, for young riders to take an occasional private lesson at Pine Hollow. More often than not, it was to work on a specific problem. But if Andrea came from a fancy show barn, Stevie knew, she was probably used to private lessons all the time.

Lisa glanced at Carole to see how she was taking the news, but Carole’s back was turned. She seemed intent on her tack.

“Have a great ride,” Lisa said, “and maybe you can help us later on this week.”

Andrea frowned. “I hope so, but I’m pretty busy just getting myself ready.”

Lisa pursed her lips. That wasn’t the response she’d been hoping for. Then she remembered Andrea’s situation at home. That could make it hard for her to hang out the way the rest of them did. “All right. Well, bye,” she said awkwardly.

“Bye.”

After Andrea had left, Carole turned around.

Lisa waited for her to say something negative.

“What?” Carole said. “If you’re expecting me to be jealous of her, I’m not. She can have ten private lessons a day, for all I care.”

Lisa noticed that there was a steely edge to Carole’s voice.

“I’ll still beat her next weekend. Her life may be perfect, and she may have everything that money can buy, but I’ll still beat her.”

“There’s the spirit, Carole!” said Stevie.

Lisa remained quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You know, Carole, Andrea’s life isn’t as perfect as you think.”

“Oh, really? What, she got a second place once?” Carole could hear how sarcastic she sounded, but she didn’t care. She was not going to let Andrea Barry make her feel second best.

“No,” said Lisa. “It’s something very serious.”