Horse Love (10 page)

“Barns always smell,” said Kiki. “I mean, they’re full of horses, and that means they’re full of you-know-what.”

Lisa presumed she meant manure and opened her mouth to explain the difference between manure and other animals’ droppings, the reason it made good fertilizer, and, in general, how the horse’s digestive system worked. The fact that all the kids were laughing at what Kiki had said made her pause, though. Even Tec was laughing.

Lisa closed her mouth. She knew the smell of horses
and barns wasn’t everybody’s favorite smell, and she realized this wasn’t a group that would appreciate a Carole-style discussion of manure. Also, to tell the truth, manure wasn’t the nicest part about being around horses; it was just a fact of life, and there was no need for her to stand up for a fact of life, even if it was a horse’s life.

“It won’t smell inside the game room,” said Brian, opening the door. They all filed in, and Lisa was relieved to find that he was right. There was no hint of the barn inside.

“Okay, so who wants to play first?” Grant asked.

There were two pool tables and they decided to play teams; that meant that eight people could play at a time. Lisa had never held a pool stick and found herself reluctant to start with this crowd—all of whom seemed to know how to do everything. She let others play. That left her and Shelley and two others out of the games.

“How about some Ping-Pong?” she asked Shelley.

“Sure,” the slender girl agreed.

The Ping-Pong tables were on the other side of the room from the pool tables. It seemed relatively quiet there. Lisa picked up the paddles and the ball, then handed a paddle to the other girl.

They began to volley for the right to serve first. Shelley lost immediately. It wasn’t that Lisa was a champion
Ping-Pong player; it just appeared that Shelley had never had a Ping-Pong paddle in her hand before. It became clear almost immediately that playing a game wasn’t going to have much point to it, so they idly paddled the ball back and forth.

“I guess I’m not much of an athlete,” Shelley said lamely.

“I saw you in the pool earlier today. You seemed to do just fine there,” she said.

“Well, that was just having fun—”

“So’s this,” said Lisa.

“You think so?” Shelley asked.

“Not if it’s no fun for you,” said Lisa. “Would you rather watch the pool games?”

“I guess,” Shelley said, putting her paddle down at just the moment that Lisa delivered a gentle lob she’d thought Shelley could handle and return to her. Lisa chased the ball, returned it to the table, and followed Shelley back to the benches near the pool tables.

Lisa thought the whole Ping-Pong thing had been very strange. Why had Shelley said she’d like to play if she couldn’t do it at all? Why had she stopped so suddenly? Some of these kids were a little weird, and Shelley apparently fell into that category.

Lisa tried to make conversation with her. She asked her where she came from. Colorado. No, she didn’t ski.
She wasn’t a mountain climber. Lisa asked her where she went to school. It turned out she was a sophomore. She asked Lisa what class she was in. Lisa told her she’d be a freshman next year.

“Oh, you’re going to find college so different from high school!” Shelley said.

Lisa realized Shelley was assuming that by Lisa’s freshman year, she meant freshman year in college, not Willow Creek High School. Lisa was about to correct her when it occurred to her that a number of these kids might be in college. If she admitted that she wasn’t even in high school yet, what were they going to think of her? She felt a little special being able to hang out with college students, and she didn’t want to mess that up by admitting she was at least four years younger than they were.

That was odd. Mostly, people thought Lisa was younger than she actually was. She was a year older than Carole and Stevie, but nobody ever thought much about that. Maybe wearing casual clothes, bathing suits, shorts, and sundresses sort of equalized everybody. She decided she wasn’t going to be the one to unequalize them. She wasn’t going to lie, she just wasn’t going to straighten anybody out, either.

Besides, Tec had told her he was a sophomore in high school. He probably hadn’t told any of the college
kids that he was younger, either. That realization drew Lisa even closer to Tec—if that was possible.

“We win! We win! Who wants to play now?” Grant asked, inviting Lisa and Shelley over to the pool tables.

“Sure,” said Lisa. “Are Shelley and I playing against you two?” she asked, looking at Grant and Tec.

“No. Lisa, you partner up with Tec, and I’ll get Shelley. I can’t wait to show her how to use a pool cue.”

Grant’s idea of showing Shelley what to do mostly involved him putting his arms around her while she leaned over the table. Shelley didn’t seem to mind at all. Lisa found it a little embarrassing and was relieved when Tec didn’t do the same thing with her.

Grant was being so silly about Shelley that it was easy for Lisa and Tec to beat them, even though it was almost always Tec who made the shots.

Lisa was just beginning to get the hang of pool and was ready to try another game when Alex announced that there was a movie on at the video center and suggested they all go to that.

A few of the kids wanted to see it, but Lisa wasn’t interested. It was a sci-fi horror movie and not really her thing. Tec didn’t want to go, either. A couple of the kids decided to go; the others wanted to go back to the lounge.

“I’ll see you at the disco, right?” Shelley asked generally.

“Sure,” most of the kids said.

Lisa had read in the brochure that the disco opened at ten every night and played until the last patron left—or until dawn, whichever came first. In spite of her long nap, she didn’t think she’d be able to stay up much longer, but she also had a feeling that Shelley didn’t much care if she showed up or not. She just nodded amid a whole group of
yeah
s, and
see you there later
s.

The group, at one moment tightly assembled outside the game room, was suddenly totally dispersed except for Lisa and Tec.

“That was fun,” Lisa said, meaning it. It seemed that doing something—anything—with Tec was fun, no matter how weird some of the others were.

“And I’ve got an idea of something more fun,” he said. There was an inviting sparkle in his eye.

“And that is?” she asked, smiling up at him.

“A midnight swim.”

Lisa glanced at her watch. “It’s only ten-thirty,” she said.

“It must be midnight somewhere,” he said, smiling back at her—that knee-melting, dimpled smile.

“How right you are,” she said. “I’ll go get my suit and meet you at the snorkeling beach in, say, ten minutes?”

“Do you really need to get your suit?” he asked.

“I can’t swim in this,” she said, looking down at her cotton dress.

“I—Well,” Tec stammered. When Lisa realized what Tec had said, she was blushing with embarrassment.

“I was just teasing,” he said. “You’re such a good swimmer, I assumed you always had a suit on under everything.”

“Not exactly,” Lisa said. “But I’ll see you in ten.”

“It’s a deal.”

Lisa hurried to her cabin and changed, arriving at the beach with a towel in less than the agreed ten minutes. Tec was waiting for her.

“Nice to swim without worrying about a sunburn,” Lisa said.

He smiled at her, took her hand, and together they dived into the waves.

An hour later, Tec walked Lisa back to her room. He was holding her towel warmly around her shoulders to protect her from the evening breeze, but she knew she wouldn’t have noticed it if they’d been walking on an iceberg. The two of them had really enjoyed their nighttime swim, splashing one another and playing in the gentle surf before sitting on the beach in the moonlight, where they’d talked and talked, as they had the night before.

At Lisa’s fifth yawn, Tec had remarked that she must be bored.

“Not a bit of it,” she said. “But I am a little tired. I stayed up late last night and then got up early this morning and there was nowhere near enough time for napping.”

“There never is in a cool place like this,” Tec said. “There’s too much to do to waste any time on something so unimportant as sleep.…”

Lisa had yawned again. “Speak for yourself,” she said.

“Then I’ve got to get you back to your room,” Tec said. He stood up, brushed the sand off his bathing trunks, and gave Lisa a hand standing up.

Walking back toward her room, Lisa knew she’d sleep well that night and have sweet dreams to boot.

Tec kissed her good night and told her he’d see her in the sunlight. She practically floated into her room.

It wasn’t until she’d gotten into her nightgown that she realized she’d forgotten to tell Tec about the trail ride and the talent show. There always seemed to be so much to talk about that she forget everything!

She slipped back into her dress, hurried across the compound to Tec’s room, and knocked on the door, sure she’d find him getting ready for bed, too. But there was no answer. Lisa realized that he was almost certainly taking a shower to get the saltwater and sand off before
he went to sleep. It wasn’t yet midnight. He was bound to be at breakfast in time for her to tell him about the trail ride, and then she could tell him about the show while they were riding.

Lisa left the darkened door and returned to her own room and her own dreams.

“L
ORRAINE
,
YOU MISSED
a spot,” Stevie said.

Lorraine, perched atop a ladder, looked where she’d just been painting and reached for the area again with her paintbrush.

“No, farther to the left,” Stevie said.

“Here?” Lorraine asked.

“Yes, that’s it,” said Stevie, satisfied. She turned her attention elsewhere. “Meg, don’t forget to use up and down strokes. That way we’ll avoid blotches and smears.”

“Yes, Stevie,” Meg responded obediently, switching from her prior cross-pattern stroking.

“Joe, have you found the extender for the ceiling roller?” Stevie asked without even turning around.

“I’ve got it and I’ve got it working,” he said. Stevie looked over her shoulder to where Joe was standing with the long-handled roller, painting the ceiling a nice gleaming white—the same color as the rest of the room.

Carole watched her friend in action, almost astonished at what she was seeing. What didn’t astonish her was how easily Stevie was taking to the job of boss of the project. There might be some people who would criticize Stevie as being
bossy
of the project, but everyone in the room at that moment would have agreed that whatever Stevie was doing, it was working. Under her firm hand and eagle eye, the tack room was being totally transformed from a dusty, soiled mess, covered with peeling paint, to a gleaming white, clean space. They were all proud of the job that was getting done, but no one was prouder than Stevie.

“Good job, crew! Good job. In fact, I think you’re doing a better job than yesterday’s early evening crew.”

“I was on that crew,” Joe Novick said. “And you said the same thing about us compared to the afternoon crew.”

“I was right then and I’m right now,” Stevie announced.

“And what about this afternoon’s crew?” Meg teased.

“They’ll be better than you are—especially if you don’t stop talking and stay focused on your job.”

Carole, resting from her stint with a paintbrush, looked over the chart that she and Stevie had devised at the beginning of the project. The first piece of really good news was that absolutely everybody had showed up when they’d said they would, except for Adam Levine, who’d developed a case of the flu and had his doctor write a note for Stevie. The other piece of good news was that not only were they on schedule, they were ahead of schedule. The first coat would be finished that day, and the second coat couldn’t possibly take more than another day. Then all that would be left to do would be to move all the tack back into the room when the paint was dry. It was amazing what could be done when a group of dedicated workers hung together to get a worthwhile project finished!

“Stevie! Are you in there?” It was Mrs. Reg.

“Right here,” Stevie volunteered. Not that Mrs. Reg had really paused for an answer.

“Well, that’s good becau—Oh my!” she said, stopping dead in her tracks.

“What’s the matter?” Carole asked. Mrs. Reg was rarely speechless, and at that moment, she clearly couldn’t say anything.

“I—I, uh. Oh my!” She repeated herself.

Carole was more than a little curious about what had silenced her. “Good or bad?” she asked.

Mrs. Reg nodded.

“Good?”

She nodded again.

“Get the lady a chair, Betsy!” Stevie said.

Betsy Cavanaugh pulled a small bench out of the hallway and offered it to Mrs. Reg, who sat down, still holding her right hand against her heart.

“Oh my!”

“What’s up, Mrs. Reg?” Stevie asked, undaunted by Mrs. Reg’s condition.

“You’re really doing it!” she said. “You’re going to finish on time, and it’s going to look wonderful!”

“You doubted us?” Stevie asked.

Mrs. Reg’s jaw closed then. She swallowed. “I think you doubted yourselves,” she reminded Stevie.