Someone knocked on my door.
I opened it a crack and peeped out.
The Pest.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Phone for you.”
“Really?” Maybe it was Nana and Grandpa wishing me a happy birthday. “Be right back,” I said to my friends.
I went into Mom and Dad’s room to pick up the phone. The Pest followed me.
“Hello?” I said. No answer. All I could hear was the dial tone.
The Pest started laughing hysterically.
I slammed the phone down. “Jerk!” I shouted. I ran back in my room and closed the door as the Pest escaped downstairs.
“Truth or dare,” I said angrily to Sara.
“Dare,” she answered.
“I dare you to pour water on Katie’s sheets so she’ll climb into a soggy, wet bed tonight.”
“No,” said Sara flatly.
“Yeah, come on,” said Jennifer. “That’s not nice.”
“But she just goof-called me,” I protested.
“So what?”
I glared at Sara. She glared back at me.
My glare used to make her give in, but not anymore.
“You promised,” I reminded her. “You promised to help me get even.”
“Only if it wasn’t too mean,” Sara reminded me.
“This isn’t too mean. It’ll be sort of funny. I’ll help you, okay? I’ll go with you.”
“NO.”
“Some friend you are,” I said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Who helped you when you had to be in the play last spring? Who coached you on your lines? Who stuck by you when you forgot your lines?”
Sara began to look a little pale. “That’s not fair, Wendy.”
“Yes, it is. It’s more than fair. I helped you out for weeks, and all I’m asking for now is one little thing. Besides, I dared you.”
“I don’t know. …”
“Let’s go,” I said. I tugged at Sara’s arm. She stood up reluctantly and followed me into the bathroom.
We each got a glass of water and snuck into the Pest’s room. We pulled back the bedspread and blanket, and soaked her sheets with water. Then we made up the bed again.
About a half an hour later we were back in my room with Carol and Jen, telling each other our fortunes.
Suddenly we heard an “Eeeek!”
It came from the Pest’s room.
Then, “Iiii-eeee! … Yuck … Mom-meee!” she called downstairs.
Mom came dashing upstairs, checked the bed, and immediately knocked on my door. “Do you know anything about Katie’s bed?” she asked sternly.
None of us said anything, but our faces must have given us away.
“I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow. You’re in deep trouble, young lady,” Mom said to me.
“But Katie started it. She was butting in on my party—and you told her not to.”
“Then you’re both in trouble.”
“Boy,” I spluttered after she’d left. The Pest hadn’t come to my party, but she’d managed to ruin it anyway. What a jerk.
8.
A Home for Peanuts
Tuesday, August 1
Today was the worst day in my
whole, entire life. I’m so sad
I don’t know what to do. I can’t
ever ride Peanuts again. Ever.
THAT WAS THE THIRD entry in my new diary. There wasn’t much space for each day, or I would have written more. I had a lot to say. I was sorry I had to put something so awful near the beginning of such a nice diary, but what could I do? That was the truth about Peanuts. The rotten truth. I’d never ride her again. No one would.
The horrible day had actually gotten off to a good start. Katie had decided she needed to practice the piano that afternoon. She had another summer recital coming up and she was going to play a very difficult piece. It was so difficult she’d have to miss riding lessons to practice it. Also, she had a cold. So I got to go to Hasty Acres without her tagging along.
I hopped on the bus feeling as happy as a lark. I had turned ten years old, I was wearing my fancy green hat, and the Pest was at home. Mandy and I sang songs all the way to Hasty Acres.
When we got there I ran for Peanuts’s stall. I rode her at every lesson now. She’d become “my” horse, just the way Daybreak had become Mandy’s and Eugene had become Vicky’s. Today I had two sugar cubes and an apple slice for Peanuts. I had even peeled the apple, in case she didn’t like skin.
“Hi!” I greeted Chris as I ran through the stable yard and into the stable.
“Hi,” he called. “Hey. … Wendy?”
“I’ll be right there,” I shouted over my shoulder. It had only been five days since I’d seen Peanuts, but it felt like five months.
Behind me I could hear Chris saying something else, but I didn’t stop to find out what.
I ran by Sky High’s stall and he snorted rudely at me.
I ran by Daybreak’s stall and saw him rolling in the wood chips.
I ran by Mr. Chips’s stall, stopped, went back, and patted him quickly on the nose. (Mr. Chips was my second favorite horse.)
Then I continued on my way to Peanuts’s stall.
But when I got there, it was empty. “Hey, who beat me to Peanuts?” I said aloud.
Boy, was that unfair. Now that we had claimed horses of our own, nobody else ever took them. I turned and glared at Chris in the stable yard. But he didn’t see me. He was talking to Paula.
Where was Peanuts, anyway? She wasn’t saddled up with Chris.
I looked in her stall once more to make absolutely sure it was empty. Then I started walking back out. I met Paula halfway.
“Hey,” I said accusingly, “who got Peanuts? Do we have a new student?”
Paula shook her head. “Listen, Wendy, I want to talk to you. Let’s go in the office.”
The “office” was really the tack room, where the saddles and other riding equipment were kept. There were two chairs, a falling-apart sofa, and a rickety desk where Mrs. Larrick worked.
Paula sat on the sofa and motioned me to sit next to her. She looked very serious, and I began to feel nervous. Had I done something wrong? Were they kicking me out because they’d found out I’d told the Pest to ride Sky High her first day?
“Wendy,” Paula began, “I know how much Peanuts means to you. I know she’s your favorite horse, and that you feel most comfortable riding her …”
I nodded. “Your mother said we make a good team.”
“That’s right. I also know that you’re one of the most skilled riders in your class, and that you can learn to ride any horse well.”
“Thanks …” I said uncertainly.
Paula paused. Finally she said in a rush, “I guess there’s no easy way to tell you this. Peanuts got hurt yesterday, Wendy. I was riding her in the woods. We jumped over a low fence and there was a chuck-hole on the other side. Peanuts came down in it and injured her leg. She’s going to be okay, but she can’t be ridden again. She was getting old anyway.”
“Can’t be ridden?” I repeated numbly. “Where is she?”
“We’ve got her fixed up in a smaller stall in one of the barns. We need to keep her in a place where she can’t move around much. She has to stay quiet.”
“How long until she gets better?” I asked. I could feel tears starting. I thought maybe if I kept talking I wouldn’t cry.
“A few weeks, probably.”
“And then what? What do you do with a horse you can’t ride?”
“Oh, Wendy, don’t worry. Nothing horrible.” Paula smiled.
“Will you keep her here?”
“Probably not. We can’t afford to keep a horse we can’t use in the lessons. But we’ll find a good home for her. We’ll find someone who will take her as a pet. She can spend all her time lazing around in some big field, and pretend she’s gone into retirement.”
I tried to laugh, but it came out more as a sob. T
hen I began to cry, and Paula put her arms around me and held me. After awhile she handed me a tissue and said, “Come on. Dry your eyes. Your lesson has started and Mom needs us. Chris saved Mr. Chips for you. He’s saddled and ready to go.”
I stood shakily. I hardly knew what I was doing. No more Peanuts, I told myself. No more Peanuts. It was so terrible that I don’t think all the terribleness had sunk in yet.
It was while I was trotting around the ring on Mr. Chips that it hit me. As soon as the Larricks found a home for Peanuts, I’d probably never see her again. She’d go off to some other farm. It could be miles away. It could be clear across the country.
I steered Mr. Chips to the side of the ring and let the other kids ride by me. I wondered if they knew about Peanuts. I wondered if they could tell I was crying.
“Wendy?” asked Paula. She was standing next to Mr. Chips, holding his bridle.
“Could I see Peanuts, please?” I asked, wiping my eyes.
“Wendy, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“Please? It’s almost the end of the lesson. I just want to see her.”
“Well … all right.”
Paula ran over to speak to her mother. Then she and I walked Mr. Chips back to the stables and gave him to Chris.
“This way,” said Paula. She led me behind the stables, across a gravelly yard, and into a small wooden barn next to a toolshed.
We waited for our eyes to adjust to the darkness. After a few seconds, Paula walked toward one of the stalls. She began talking softly. “Okay, Peanuts. Hi there, Peanuts.”
I followed Paula. I could see Peanuts standing in the stall. I stood on my tiptoes and peeped over the door. On her right front leg was a fat bandage.
Peanuts looked at us, but she didn’t move. She just stood there. I glanced at Paula. This wasn’t the Peanuts I knew.
“She’s really all right,” Paula told me. “Just worn out.”
“Oh, Peanuts,” was all I could say.
Finally Peanuts blinked her dark eyes and let out a soft whuffle.
I stroked her neck.
“Well, good-bye,” I said at last. “We have to go now.”
We left the barn.
“Can I see Peanuts again on Thursday?” I asked. “She’ll still be here, won’t she?”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be here for awhile,” replied Paula. “We’re not going to move her until she’s all well. You can visit her on Thursday. Sure.”
“Thanks, Paula.”
Paula gave my hand a squeeze. I smiled at her. But all the way home on the bus I stared out the window and thought of Peanuts.
At dinner that night I told everyone what had happened. Katie was mad that she had missed out on the excitement. She would be. I was very glad she hadn’t been there to see me cry.
The Pest wanted to know every detail. “What did Peanuts look like?” she asked. “Was her leg swollen? Was the bandage bloody? How did Paula get her home after the accident? Did the veterinarian give her a shot?”
I ignored her. “You know what the worst thing is?”
Mom and Dad shook their heads.
“What?” asked Scottie.
“No one can ride her anymore. So the Larricks are giving her away.”
Katie’s eyes grew wide.
“Oh, honey,” said Mom. “I’m sorry. I know how much you like Peanuts.”
“Yeah. They’re going to find someone who wants her just for a pet.”
“I’m sure they’ll find a good home for her, lamb,” said Dad. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Oh, I’m not worried.”
“You’re not?”
“No. See, I think I know someone who would give her a good home.”
“Who?” asked Mom.
“Me! Please, please, please, Mom? Dad? She could use our backyard for a pasture. We could—”
“Wendy, I don’t think so,” my mother said.
“Please? Our backyard is huge.”
“N-O.”
Then the Pest spoke up. “Peanuts could help us save money,” she said. She glanced at me.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“She could graze on our lawn. We wouldn’t need the gardeners to come mow it anymore.”
“Katie—” Dad started to say.
“And we wouldn’t waste food. She could eat our table scraps.”
Mom and Dad smiled at each other.
“That’s a nice thought, lamb,” Dad said to Katie. Then he looked at me. “If you really want a horse, maybe we could think about getting one and boarding it out at Hasty Acres.”
I nodded my head. But that wasn’t exactly what I’d meant. We’d have to pay to board a horse, and Mom and Dad would probably want me to help earn some of the money. But how could I ever earn enough? Besides, I wanted Peanuts—here with me. What was the point of keeping her at Hasty Acres when I couldn’t ride her? I’d have to go all the way out there just to look at her. No doubt about it, our backyard would be much more convenient.
Later that evening, the Pest poked her head in my room.
I was lying on my bed, finishing up Brighty of the Grand Canyon.
“What are you doing?” asked the Pest.
“What’s it look like?” I replied.
The Pest didn’t answer. She stepped into my room and handed me a piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
“Read it,” said the Pest.
I looked at the paper. It was a list. Across the top, it said:
WHY WE SHOULD KEEP PEANUTS
Under that, the Pest had written:
1. We’ve never had a pet and we really want one.
2. Peanuts needs a home.
3. Peanuts would keep our mowing bills down.
4. Scottie likes ponies.
5. Wendy needs Peanuts and Peanuts needs Wendy.
I put the paper down and looked at Katie. “This is pretty good,” I told her.
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmmm.” I frowned.
“When should we show it to Mommy and Daddy?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe we should wait awhile.”
“All right. Do you want to add anything to it?”
I thought a minute. I wasn’t very good at this kind of thing. “Not now,” I said. “But we won’t show it to Mom and Dad until tomorrow night. We can add to it till then.”
“Okay.” Katie left the list with me and went back to her room.
The next morning, Sara and Carol and I met in Carol’s tree fort. I told them about Peanuts and showed them Katie’s list.
“This is a good list,” said Carol.
“Yeah,” agreed Sara.
“We can add to it,” I told them.
“Hmm,” said Carol. “Put down Horses prevent heart attacks.”
“What? Come on, Carol. This is serious.”
“I’m being serious. I heard this guy on TV. This doctor. He was saying how pets calm people down. And so I was thinking, since heart attacks can be caused by stress, then pets probably help prevent heart attacks.”
“Well … okay,” I said. I wrote: 6. Horses help prevent heart attacks. “Sara? Anything?” I asked.
Sara gazed out of the tree fort. “How about: Pets teach responsibility?”
“Oh, great!” I jotted that down, too.
We thought some more and I added: 8. Horses are good company, before we put the list away.
“Have you decided how to get even with Katie?” Sara asked me.
“Not yet,” I replied. “But now I have a lot to get even with her for. After my party, Mom and Dad said we couldn’t watch TV for a whole week.”
“She just made you this list, though,” protested Carol.
“So? She horned in on my riding lessons, and I still have four more days to go without television.”
“Didn’t Katie get punished, too?”
“Yeah, but neither of us would have gotten punished at all if she hadn’t played that trick on me.”
>
Carol and Sara were silent.
“Some friends you guys are!” I said, and stomped down the tree fort ladder.
“Wendy,” Sara called after me, but I ignored her.
Ten minutes later we made up. Miss J. had baked a big batch of carob health cookies, so I carried a tray with a pitcher of juice and a plate of cookies to the tree fort. Carol and Sara and I had a snack and apologized to each other.
But as far as I was concerned, I had one more thing to get even with Katie for.
I decided to show the list to Mom and Dad right after dinner. Katie came with me. I didn’t want her to, but the list was half hers.
Mom and Dad read the piece of paper carefully. Then they looked up and Mom said, “Girls, this is a very thoughtful list. But for every reason you’ve included here, Dad and I have a reason for not taking Peanuts.”
“Like what?” I demanded.
“Well,” said Dad, “number one, horses need more space than we have here. Two, the upkeep of a horse is expensive. Three, we don’t have a stall … and we can’t use the garage,” he added quickly when he saw me open my mouth. “We will not leave the cars out in the cold all winter because a horse is living in the garage. Four, we don’t have a horse van to transport Peanuts. And—”
“All right,” I butted in.
“But Daddy,” Katie spoke up. “We want a pet.”
“We understand,” said Mom. “But Peanuts is not the pet for us. Nor is any other horse. Wouldn’t you like something smaller? A goldfish, maybe?”
“Fish are stupid pets,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” said Dad. “No Peanuts. No horse. Now go get ready for bed.”
The next day was Thursday. In the morning, the Pest was in another piano recital at her music school. Guess what. She won first place in Class IV again.
So what else is new?
9.
Ways to Keep Peanuts
“HI, PEANUTS,” I SAID softly.
It was Thursday afternoon and I was at Hasty Acres. Paula had told me I could visit Peanuts before the lesson began.
“How are you doing?”
Peanuts looked a lot better. At least, she seemed glad to see me. As soon as I had entered the barn, she’d thrust her head over the stall door. Now she was smacking her lips. I knew she wanted a treat. I was prepared.
I held out a piece of carrot. She took it gently and crunched away while I patted her nose.