The Painted Horse (8 page)

There was something on her head. She reached up and touched the thing. It was smooth and conical. She ran her fingers up the sides. By this time the people in the audience were crying from laughter.

Carole touched the top and felt that it was pointed. She held the point of the thing and pulled it off. It was a dunce cap. She looked around. She was all alone on the stage. There was no one to help her.

A bell rang. The audience laughed. Carole searched for the bell. It wasn’t hanging from the ceiling of the theater. It wasn’t in the wings. She opened her eyes. It was the telephone. The whole thing had been a dream. She lay in bed for a second, getting used to the fact that she was at home in her room. Gradually her heart stopped pounding.

She looked at the clock next to her bed. It was after midnight.

She heard a thump on the other side of the room and turned on the light. Lisa had gotten out of her sleeping bag and was standing up, looking half-asleep.

Carole picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?” came a snooty voice.

Carole would know that voice anywhere. “Yes, Veronica, you woke me,” she said. “People don’t usually phone after midnight.”

“I guess I’m just on West Coast time,” said Veronica.

“Did you move to California?” asked Carole hopefully.

“No,” Veronica said. “It’s my agent. He lives in L.A., naturally. And he talked and talked. I couldn’t get him off the phone.”

Carole rubbed her eyes.
This might be part of the nightmare.

“I bet you’re dying to know what my agency is,” Veronica said.

“No,” said Carole.

“It’s FMG. Famous Management Group,” Veronica said. “They handle all the top stars.”

“Veronica, drink a glass of hot milk and go to sleep,” said Carole.

“FMG manages Skye Ransom,” Veronica said.

Carole blinked. “So?” she said.

“Someone sent FMG a tape of the ‘Genius Kids’ segments,” Veronica said. “And they went nuts. They said I was fabulous. They say I’m a natural.”

Carole looked helplessly over at Lisa.

“In two weeks Skye Ransom is going to start shooting
Full Gallop.
It’s a horse movie. And I’m probably going to costar,” Veronica said.

Carole had a sick feeling that Veronica might be telling the truth.

“You’ll be able to see the movie—at your local theater,” Veronica said. She hung up.

Lisa stood at the foot of Carole’s bed with her eyes wide but vague. “What’s up?” she said.

Carole knew that Lisa was really fond of Skye. It would make her sick to hear that Veronica was going to be in a movie with him. “I think you’d better sit down,” she said.

Lisa sat on the end of the bed.

“That was Veronica,” Carole said. “She claims she’s up for a role in a Skye Ransom movie.”

Lisa was suddenly awake. “What?” she said.

“Who knows if she’s telling the truth?” Carole said. “You know Veronica.”

“What a horrible thought,” said Lisa.

“Someone sent a tape of ‘Genius Kids’ to Veronica’s agency,” said Carole. “Veronica said they loved it.”

Lisa ran her hands through her hair. “We made her look good.” She stared at Carole in horror. “What if we turned her into a star?”

“Stevie would die,” Carole said.

“So would I,” said Lisa.

“And just imagine how Skye would feel,” said Carole. “He can’t stand Veronica!”

“I know,” said Lisa. “We have to do something.”

“But what?” said Carole. “I wish Stevie were here!”

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
Stevie woke up starving. She hopped out of bed thinking that she would have scrambled eggs with ham and bacon and waffles and pancakes and toast and fried potatoes and a giant glass of orange juice and another one of milk. And then, to top that off, she figured she’d have a serving of French toast.

But when she got to the dining room, Ms. Dodge had saved a place for her. “Come and sit by me,” said Ms. Dodge, patting the chair next to her.

“So what’s on the menu today?” Stevie asked.

Ms. Dodge smiled happily. “I’m having oatmeal with a dish of stewed fruit on the side. I think you’ll find that it’s very good.”

“For sure,” Stevie said.

The oatmeal was gummy and made Stevie think of glue. The stewed fruit was too sweet and too sour at the same time.

“There’s nothing like oatmeal and stewed fruit to get your day off to a great start,” Ms. Dodge said cheerfully.

“You’re telling me,” said Stevie.

The waitress came over and said, “It’s so nice to see a young person eating a sensible breakfast. My daughter won’t eat anything but sugared cereal.”

“Poor you,” said Ms. Dodge. “Stevie likes to start the day with a well-balanced meal.”

“That’s me,” said Stevie.

“You’re an angel,” said the waitress.

One of Stevie’s classmates choked.

After breakfast Mrs. Martin gathered the class in the lobby of the hotel. “The beautiful weather is gone,” she said. “The storm that plagued Willow Creek has moved up the coast and will be passing through New York. I want you to wear your raincoats, and you might want to bring warm sweaters.”

Half an hour later the class met again in the lobby. They were wearing slickers and sweaters and were toting umbrellas. They looked as if they were ready for a gale. Since it wasn’t raining yet, other hotel guests smiled at them with amusement.

“Today we’re going to see an exhibit on the history of
Central Park,” Mrs. Martin said. “I want you to see if you can connect your object with the history of the park. I think most of you will find that you can. Some of you do not yet have an object.” She looked significantly at Stevie. “This is your last chance.”

Stevie resolved that she would find the best, most educational object on earth.

As they entered Central Park, the sky turned gray and heavy. Stevie shivered, remembering how cold it could get this time of year.

“Do you have an idea for your object?” Ms. Dodge asked Stevie.

“Sure,” Stevie said. “I’m loaded with ideas. Choosing is the hard part.”

Ms. Dodge looked at her reproachfully. “You haven’t narrowed it down at all, have you?”

“No,” said Stevie.

“I can’t believe that there isn’t anything in New York City that’s caught your fancy,” Ms. Dodge said.

“Yeah,” Stevie said, digging her hands into the pocket of her slicker. “It’s just that I don’t like museums.”

“You don’t give them a chance,” said Ms. Dodge.

Stevie knew this was true.

As the class entered the exhibit on the history of Central Park, which was at the Dairy, Stevie resolved to really look and really care. She saw pictures of the way the park looked before it was a park. It had been a
swampy dump, dotted with pig farms, slaughterhouses, and shantytowns. In those days the area was famous for its terrible smell. Later it was turned into a new kind of park—not a place with flower beds and formal walks, but a place where people could ramble and roam.

The rest of the class was madly taking notes. But the words
ramble and roam
stuck in Stevie’s mind. She wasn’t going to ramble and roam, of course, but she felt that old itch.

Stevie came to an exhibit about the carousel. It was built in 1908. She knew that! The horses were made of basswood, which was soft and easy to carve. There was a picture of the carousel with Ralph in the center, his coat gleaming black.

Stevie thought of Ralph spending all those years in the carousel with the seasons passing and new kids coming to ride him every year. Ralph wasn’t a living thing, of course, but she felt as if he were. She wanted to see Ralph one more time and say good-bye. She knew that they were very close to the carousel.

But she wasn’t going to do that. It was wrong, and it was dangerous.

Ms. Dodge came over to Stevie. “You look like you’re really interested in something,” she said.

“It’s the carousel,” Stevie said.

Ms. Dodge read an exhibit label, “ ‘The carousel was made at the turn of the century by the Artistic Carousel
Company in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.’ ” She turned to Stevie. “It’s amazing the horses have lasted so well.”

“See that one?” said Stevie, pointing to Ralph. She wanted more than anything to tell Ms. Dodge about Ralph and what a great horse he was. But she couldn’t do that. “I think he looks great,” Stevie said.

“You really do love horses,” Ms. Dodge said. “It’s too bad you’ve never actually seen him. Otherwise that horse would make a perfect topic for your paper.”

“For real?” said Stevie.

“He was made at the turn of the century,” Ms. Dodge said. “And he seems to be of special interest to you.”

“Ho boy,” Stevie said. “Just my luck. There’s an object that would have been perfect for me, and I never saw it.”

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Ms. Dodge said. “It’s too bad.”

When all the note-taking was done, the class gathered near the door. Stevie spotted a postcard of the carousel and quickly bought it before Mrs. Martin headed them out the door.

“We’re now going to say good-bye to New York,” Mrs. Martin said. “We’re going to Belvedere Castle. Does anyone know what a belvedere is?”

None of the students knew, but Ms. Dodge raised her hand.

“Ms. Dodge?” said Mrs. Martin with a nod.

“A belvedere is a pleasant place from which to look upon a scenic vista,” said Ms. Dodge.

Stevie smiled at Ms. Dodge. She really knew a lot.

“From Belvedere Castle you will be able to see old New York and new New York,” Mrs. Martin said. “You will be able to see the park as it was designed by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux. And you will be able to see the modern skyscrapers lining it.”

The class crossed the street and entered the park. The sky was lower and grayer now. Three seagulls wheeled overhead.

“Birds act strange before a bad storm,” Stevie said. She knew this from Max, who always told riders to keep an eye on the birds.

Mrs. Martin smiled. “Stevie is reluctant to see one last historic building. Well have plenty of time to see Belvedere Castle before it rains, but I want everyone to zip and button up.”

“I don’t know—those birds look worried,” Stevie said.

Mrs. Martin looked annoyed. “Stevie, we are going to stick to our schedule.”

Stevie knew that weather could be unpredictable. Storms could come up faster than expected. Mrs. Martin might know a lot about antiques and English and history, but Stevie could tell that she didn’t know a lot about weather.

Ms. Dodge tied a plaid silk scarf over her head. The class zipped up their raincoats and put on their hoods.

A flock of crows crossed the sky, screaming.

“I don’t like crows,” Ms. Dodge said. “They’re kind of spooky.” A gust of wind caught her scarf, pulled it loose, and sent it straight up in the air. “Oh,” she said, running after it, her arms up. The class ran with her. The scarf spread out like a large plaid bird.

It’s now or never
, Stevie thought. She ducked behind a bush and ran in a low crouch. She hated to do this to Ms. Dodge and Mrs. Martin, but she really wanted to see Ralph one more time before she left, and she had a feeling that the carousel was just a few hundred yards away. She could be there and back before anyone noticed she was gone.

She trotted with her head down. She would have a short visit with Ralph and then meet her class at Belvedere Castle. She didn’t know where the castle was, but she could ask.

Skaters passed her, heading out of the park. “It’s about to rain,” one of them called to her.

“No problem,” Stevie said as the first drop smashed into her nose. She figured it was one of those spring storms that come on fast and blow themselves out. Raindrops bounced off the hood of her slicker. This was hard rain, she realized. Maybe it really was the storm that had soaked Willow Creek.

Stevie looked up. A drop pelted her on the forehead. This rain wasn’t kidding around.

A parks department man in a green jumpsuit ran past her. “Get under cover!” he yelled. “It’s about to begin.”

Begin? So far as Stevie could see, it already had begun. She ran south, her head down, minding her steps. She noticed something very odd. The rain was bouncing. Rain did not bounce. She looked more closely. The rain was bouncing above her ankles, almost up to her knees. Something stung her nose. “Ouch!” she said. “Watch it!”

Now she was talking to rain. That was smart.

Hail the size of sourballs slammed into her forehead and hands. She ran as fast as she could while it thundered around her. There was no one else around. They seemed to be hiding.

Stevie ducked into a gazebo. There was no way she could get to the carousel and back in this mess.
Anyway
, she thought,
I already took one picture of Ralph.
She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was starting to feel uneasy. She needed to get back to her classmates before this storm got even worse.

Stevie spotted a man scurrying past the gazebo, fighting to keep his umbrella intact. She dashed back out into the hail. “Which way to Belvedere Castle?” she asked him.

“You can’t go there in this mess,” he said.

“I have to,” Stevie said. She had a vision of Ms. Dodge running with her arms up, chasing her scarf. She and Mrs. Martin didn’t know anything about weather and storms. They might not have made it to the shelter of the castle. They could be in trouble. “I need to get there right away,” she said to the man.