“Figures,” I said. I turned away from Paula. I didn’t want her to see the tears in my eyes. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. There went my chance at winning the first important prize in my whole life. If I had to ride Sky High, and the Pest got to ride gentle Daffodil, she’d beat me for sure.
For several long seconds I struggled against crying. When I was in control of myself, I turned back to Paula. “Okay, where is he?” I demanded.
“On his way. Chris is saddling him up.”
I nodded.
And while I waited for Sky High, I made a decision. I decided that I wouldn’t let Sky High make me look bad. I might not win a prize, and I might not ride as well as I’d have ridden Mr. Chips or Peanuts, but I was not going to let Sky High make a fool out of me. Not with my family and friends watching.
When Chris brought Sky High to me, I didn’t hesitate. I mounted him as if he were any other horse. Then I walked him to the end of the line our class had formed. When he started to wander off, nibbling grass, I jerked him back. He snorted at me and looked surprised, but he obeyed.
Our class filed into the ring. At Mrs. Larrick’s orders, we walked our horses around twice. Then we pulled the line up tight and came to a halt. Mrs. Larrick asked Mandy, who was at the head of the line, to walk her horse around to the other end. When she finished, Vicky followed.
The Pest was next. She kicked at Daffodil and he walked primly around the ring. Katie looked a little shaky, but it was probably just nerves.
When it was my turn, I kicked Sky High twice sharply, and immediately he began walking briskly. Too briskly. And he was heading toward Mrs. Larrick in the center of the ring. I sat up straight and turned him toward the fence. I managed to slow him down, too. Then he behaved beautifully. But I didn’t trust him at all.
While the rest of the class took their turns, I concentrated very hard on controlling Sky High. I concentrated so hard that I didn’t even see my family and Sara and Carol until I noticed Dad running around with his camera, taking pictures.
We have about a million pictures of the Pest doing wonderful things. Dad has captured her holding up awards, trophies and checks. He’s taken her playing the piano, painting at her easel, and coming out the door of the music school. He has photos of her artwork, and pictures of her holding up the newspaper articles she’s mentioned in.
There are a couple of cute pictures of me in the hammock and of me smiling after I lost my front teeth, but that’s about it. Until now. Now we would have pictures of me riding in a horse show!
Mrs. Larrick asked our class to begin trotting around the ring.
I had to pay attention.
I forgot about Dad and the camera, and kicked Sky High into a trot. He burst forward until his nose was almost touching Sundance’s rump. Very calmly, I slowed him down. We trotted along, but not smoothly. I had to work hard to keep him in line and going at the right speed. I couldn’t relax for a second. I couldn’t even watch Katie to see how she was doing.
At last we stopped the horses. Now we would trot around the ring one at a time. I was able to watch the Pest when she took her turn. She did everything perfectly, except that she steadied herself by resting her hands on the saddle. I hadn’t seen her do that in weeks. She must have been awfully nervous.
My turn.
I sighed.
Please don’t blow it, Sky High, I thought. Just give me a little cooperation. That’s all I ask.
I kicked Sky High into a walk. So far, so good.
I kicked him again. And the next thing I knew he was flying around the ring in a wild canter. It was all I could do to stay on. I squeezed in with my knees, leaned forward, and tried to move with his rhythm. When we neared the end of the line, I pulled on the reins good and hard. I wanted him to get the message to STOP.
He did.
But we’d blown it.
Thanks a lot, Sky High. Thanks a whole lot.
I could hardly keep from crying as our class finished up and we filed out of the ring. All my work, all my practicing, all my wishing and hoping were for nothing. Nothing. And all because of some dumb old horse.
Sky High.
He was so rude.
Outside the ring, I dismounted silently and handed Sky High over to Chris.
“You looked good out there, Champ,” he said.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, really. Good control with a difficult horse. The judges will like that.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He grinned at me.
But I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I’d get an honorable mention, but I couldn’t hope for much more. I waited on pins and needles until the winners were announced.
When the judge’s voice came over the loudspeaker and said, “And now the winners in the seventh event,” I gripped Sara’s hand.
“I can’t stand it,” I wailed. “I’m so nervous!”
Sara smiled at me. “Cross all your fingers and toes,” she advised.
I crossed as many as I could.
The judge continued, “Two honorable mentions go to number sixteen and number forty-eight, Victoria Anderson and Mark Vallario.”
A cheer arose from a group of people nearby.
“Third prize goes to number one-hundred-eight, Wendy White.”
Wendy White? Wendy White! He said my name! “He said my name!” I yelled. “Second prize,” the judge continued, “goes to number ninety-two, Pamela Browning. And first prize goes to number one-twenty, Amanda Stine.” The Pest hadn’t won a prize! I’d won and the Pest hadn’t! It was almost too much to believe.
I felt myself caught up in one of Dad’s big bear hugs. He let me go. Then Mom hugged me and then Miss J. hugged me. Sara and Carol and Scottie were squealing and jumping up and down.
“I won! I won!” I shouted. “I really won!”
I saw the Pest standing quietly apart from our group. She looked uncertain. While I was thinking of something to say to her, Mom took me by the arm. “Come on, sweetheart. They’re going to award the prizes now.”
As long as I live, I won’t forget how I felt when I walked up to that judging booth and let Mrs. Larrick pin the yellow button to my shirt. It had a wide ribbon attached to it which said third prize in up and down letters like this:
T P
H R
I I
R Z
D E
I grinned and grinned and Dad snapped about a whole roll of film. At the last second, I remembered to thank Mrs. Larrick and the judges. Then I ran back to Mom and Dad.
And the Pest.
She stepped around Mom and said quickly, “Congratulations. I’m glad you won, Wendy.”
“Thank you. … And I—I’m sorry you didn’t.” I wasn’t. But I was sorry that she was disappointed. I knew how she felt. Believe me.
We had walked back to our spot in the shade and Miss J. was packing up the picnic basket.
“Did Mommy tell you I’m not going to be riding anymore?” Katie asked me.
“No,” I answered, surprised, “she didn’t.”
“Well, I’m not. Riding is okay, I guess, but I’d rather do other things.”
I nodded. Inside, I felt like singing and jumping and cheering. No more Katie! No more Pest! Lessons alone! I was very relieved, but I didn’t know what to say.
Katie didn’t either. She opened her mouth, then closed it.
I felt sort of confused. Katie was still my sister. She was still a Gigantic Pest. And I had just won a small victory. So why did I feel sorry for her? Why did I suddenly wish she felt as happy as I did right now?
I looked over at the others. The picnic basket was packed and ready to go.
“Well, come on,” I said to Katie. “It’s time to leave.”
We followed Mom and Dad, and as we walked I felt the heavy Third Prize button thumping against my chest. I smiled to myself.
That evening, Mom and Dad put my award in a picture frame and stood it on the mantelpiece where anyone could see it. Then Da
d took a picture of me standing in front of the fireplace, pointing to the award. Later, when the film was developed, he made two copies of that picture—a little one for our photo album, and a big one for me. Katie made a frame for mine and I hung it over my bed next to the picture of Peanuts she had drawn.
13.
Sniffles
THREE DAYS AFTER THE horse show was our last day of summer vacation. Carol and Sara and I decided we better use the day as carefully as possible. First we slept late. After breakfast we took a bicycle ride. Then when we were just hot enough and sweaty enough, we rode to Jennifer’s house and dove in her pool. Jennifer played Marco Polo and underwater tag with us. Then we took turns jumping on her trampoline, and finally we decided to go to the movies. The Black Stallion was playing and we sat through it twice. On the way home, we stopped for ice-cream cones.
As we were leaving the drugstore, licking our double scoops of chocolate mint chip, my eyes fell on the stack of Riverside Journals. Right on the front page was a photo of a horse, and underneath it were the words HASTY ACRES HORSE SHOW.
“Hey, you guys! Wait!” I cried.
Carol, Sara, and Jennifer had been halfway out the door, but they turned around and came back in.
“Look at this,” I said. “Hasty Acres Horse Show.”
“Wow,” exclaimed Sara. “What else does it say? Is there an article?”
“It says ‘Story on page six’.”
Frantically, I thumbed through to page six. I kept looking over my shoulder. I knew that Mr. Campbell, who ran the store, didn’t like kids reading his magazines and newspapers without paying for them first.
I spread the Riverside Journal open. All of page six was about the horse show. There were several photographs—one of a woman on Daybreak sailing smoothly over a jump, one of a little kid in the other beginners’ class with his honorable mention button, and one of Mrs. Larrick in the judging booth.
I scanned the story until I came to a section headed “Winners!”
Carol saw it at the same time. “Look!” She jabbed her finger at the paragraph. “There you are!” she exclaimed.
“What? I’m where?” I began to feel quivery all over.
“The winners in Beginners’ Class II,” read Carol, “were Amanda Stine, first prize; Pamela Browning, second prize; and Wendy White, third prize. Two honorable mentions—”
“Hey! Oh, let me see!” I grabbed the paper.
There was my name, printed and official. I kept staring at it. Wendy White, it said, third prize.
“Ahem.”
Carol, Sara, Jennifer and I all jumped.
We turned around.
Mr. Campbell was looming over us.
“Are you ready to buy that now?” he asked.
“What? Oh. Oh, yeah. Sure.” I fumbled in my pocket for some change, and handed it to Mr. Campbell.
The next thing I knew, Sara was fumbling in her pocket for some change. “I’ll have one, too,” she said grandly. She lifted another paper off the top of the stack.
“Me, too,” said Carol.
“Me, too,” said Jennifer.
Mr. Campbell stood in front of us looking very surprised. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He just watched the four of us flounce out the door with our papers.
As soon as we were on the sidewalk and the door had swung shut behind us, we started giggling.
“You’re a star!” cried Sara, putting her arm around me.
“Yeah, you’re famous!” said Jennifer.
“A celebrity,” added Carol.
“And I bet Mr. Campbell will never bother us again,” Sara said as we began walking home.
In a little while we reached Jennifer’s house. “See you in … school … tomorrow,” she said, choking on the word ‘school’.
“Gross,” replied Carol and Sara and I. “See you!”
We got on our bikes and rode to our houses.
“I have to help Mom with supper,” said Carol.
“And I promised my mother I’d try on last year’s school clothes,” said Sara.
“Okay. See you tomorrow.” We waved good-bye to each other.
I put my bike in the garage and sat glumly on the front porch. I was holding that terrific newspaper article in my hands, but I felt sad and mopey. Today was the end of summer vacation. Tomorrow was school.
Yechh.
I sat there with my chin in my hands. I sat there for so long my bottom began to hurt. And I got the creepy feeling I was being watched. I turned, expecting to see someone standing inside the front door, but no one was there. I looked around the yard. No one there, either.
Suddenly I heard a rustling in the bushes next to the porch.
I began to feel suspicious.
“Katie?” I said sharply.
“Yeah?” She crawled out from the bushes.
Spying again! I couldn’t believe it. I was so mad, I could barely speak.
Finally I managed to sputter, “Why do you always spy on me? Why can’t you talk to me like a normal person?”
“Because you never talk to me like a normal person.” Katie settled herself one step down and looked up at me. “You either yell or tease. Usually you don’t speak to me at all.”
“And that’s because you’re always doing dumb things like spying on me or reading my diary or goof-calling me. Why don’t you just lay off, Katie? Leave me alone.”
Katie’s lower lip began to tremble.
“And don’t cry,” I said. Then I handed her the newspaper article. “You think just because you win awards you’re better than me. Well, look at this.”
Katie was so surprised that she stopped crying.
“See that? I can get in the paper, too. Just like you.”
Katie glanced at me and then read the “winners” paragraph.
By the time she finished, I felt calmer.
So did she.
“Neat,” she commented. “I wish I’d gotten in the paper.”
“You’ve been in the paper, for heaven’s sake! A hundred times.”
“Don’t be so mad! Anyway, I’ve only been in the paper four times.”
I didn’t say anything.
“You know,” said Katie. “I can’t help the things I do. And I don’t do them just to make you angry.”
“I know,” I said with a sigh, “but you could help spying and goof-calling and invading my privacy.”
“Yeah,” replied Katie. She thought a minute. “And you could be nicer to me. At least, you could be nicer when I’m not spying and goof-calling.”
“I guess,” I said. I gave the Pest a wry smile.
Two-way street, I reminded myself. Maybe the Pest would be less pesty if I helped her be less pesty.
While I was thinking about that, Mom pulled into the driveway.
“Mom! Mom!” I shouted, jumping up and running to the carport. “Look!” I handed her the paper as she got out of the car. “Read this!”
Mom put down her briefcase. She looked at the headline and the photographs. Then she read the paragraph where my name was printed.
“Oh, Wendy,” she said. “I’m so proud of you.” She put her arms around me and gave me a great big hug. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“Oh, I am, Mom. I’m going to take this to school tomorrow and show it to my new teacher.”
“Okay. Now listen, you two. Why don’t you run and find Scottie. Dad’ll be home in a few minutes and we’ve got a surprise for you.”
Katie and I took off like a shot. We practically forgot about our fight.
The surprise turned out to be a puppy!
When Dad got home, he and Mom and Katie and Scott and I sat down in the living room.
“Well,” said Dad, “your mother and I have done some thinking this summer. We know you’ve been wanting a pet.”
For just one exciting second, even after all that had happened, I thought my parents might have changed their minds and decided to get a horse.
But Dad continued, “We think y
ou’re old enough to be responsible for a pet. A horse wasn’t the right pet for us—”
I didn’t even feel disappointed. I really knew they weren’t getting a horse.
“So,” Dad said, “we thought a dog might be the next best thing.”
“A dog?” cried Scottie, jumping up. “A dog! A dog! Oh, boy!”
Mom and Dad smiled.
“How would you like to go to the pet store at Clover Mall tonight and pick out a puppy?” asked Mom.
“Oh, yes!” cried Katie.
“All right!” I shouted.
So after dinner we got in the station wagon and drove to the mall. And that was how, the day before school began this year, we got Sniffles—a roly-poly, wiggly cocker spaniel who likes to lick our faces.
That night I fell asleep thinking about the newspaper article, with Sniffles cuddled up on my stomach.
14.
The Guinness Book of World Records
“EW, EW!” SHRIEKED KATIE.
“Yikes, I’m glad I put on my bathing suit!” shouted Scott.
“I’m soaked!” I giggled.
It was a Saturday at the end of September, and I’d just come back from working at Hasty Acres. It was probably one of the last really hot days we’d have until next summer.
Mom and Dad asked us to wash Miss J.’s car for her. We were soapy and wet. So was Sniffles. He was running in and out of our feet, jumping and yapping. He liked being squirted with the hose.
Katie soaped up the windshield. I aimed the hose and sprayed the soap off. Then I stuck my finger over the end of the hose and showered Katie.
Spluttering and giggling, she pulled a sponge out of a bucket of cold water and threw it at my head. I ducked and the sponge hit Scott.
“I’m gonna get you!” he yelled. He dumped a little pail of water over me. I had to stand still and crouch down to let him but I don’t think he cared.
As I was drying my face with one of the car-washing rags, Sara came charging out of her backyard and onto our driveway. She was waving an envelope.
“Look, look, look, look, look!” she shouted. “Wendy, look at this!”
“What?” I asked.
“Oh, I can not believe it!”
I finished drying myself off. Sara handed me the envelope. I pulled a letter out.