stink, and does some of that rub off on the rider? If so, maybe you could get abig tall saddle that would hold you way off the horse’s back, and then instead of blowing back on you, the stink would just sort of drift away. Under the saddle, do you get my drift?”
Lisa nodded to Carole.
Melanie
, she wrote on the note, and passed it back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said into the microphone. “Horses are the sweetest-smelling animals around, and I’d take the smell of three dozen horses any day over one jerky soccer-playing boy I know.” She disconnected, but not before she heard Melanie start to laugh.
Lisa cradled her head in her hands. Why had she lost her temper? It would only make things worse.
The phone rang again. “What color is a horse in the dark?”
“The same color it is in the light,” Carole snapped. She didn’t want to lose her temper, either, but she was starting to feel it go. Didn’t anyone in Willow Creek have a legitimate horse question? She patted Lisa’s hand encouragingly while the phone rang again.
“If horses only eat grass and oats and stuff like that, why do we tell people that they eat like a horse? Nobody I know eats only oats.”
No, Carole decided, no one in Willow Creek did.
The questions got worse and worse. Every time they finished one question, someone rang immediately with another.
“Let’s talk about Willow Creek’s middle-school radioproject,” Lisa said desperately. She ignored her short script and spoke at length, but when she had totally run out of words, she found that only two minutes had passed.
“Why doesn’t Stevie call?” Carole whispered. Lisa rolled her eyes and tried to sound cheerful, or at least not furious, for the next caller. They both knew why Stevie wasn’t calling. Every kid in Willow Creek was phoning in, and Stevie couldn’t get through.
S TEVIE COULD TELL from the strain in her friends’ voices that if Carole and Lisa had to answer one more question about how horses did or did not compare to squirrels (no, horses did not hibernate; yes, they probably would eat nuts; no, they didn’t bury nuts), they were going to break, go completely crazy, trash the barn, and probably get kicked out of the stable. She had to do something, but she couldn’t. She called and called, and all she got was a busy signal.
“
Arrhgyh
!” Stevie finally yelled, slamming the phone down. From upstairs came the thin wail of a startled baby. “Sorry, Deborah,” Stevie whispered.
“Out,” Deborah said, pointing to the door. “Now.”
S TEVIE SLUNK INTO the barn and draped herself over a chair. “I’ve been evicted,” she whispered under the cover of the commercial Carole had put on.
“Then we’re doomed!” Lisa whispered back.
“We were already doomed,” said Carole.
Horse Talk
was a failure, and they were doing a terrible job as its hosts. “
Horse Talk
! This is Carole!” she added when the phone rang as soon as the commercial ended.
“Hi, this is Roosevelt Franklin Godfreys the Third,” said the caller.
“That’s Chad,” Stevie mouthed.
“Hi, Rosie,” Lisa said. “You called in last week, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, um, I did,” said Chad. “I have another question.”
“Let’s hear it,” Carole said. She rolled her eyes at Lisa.
“What’s the difference between riding English and riding Western?”
“What?” Carole couldn’t help sounding startled.
“You know, the way cowboys ride doesn’t look like the way people ride when they jump and stuff.”
“Right,” Lisa said, grabbing the microphone and shooting Stevie a puzzled look
A real question! From Chad
? “Actually there aren’t as many differences as there might seem to be …” The Saddle Club rode Western style when they visited their friend Kate out West, so they knew a lot about it. Lisa and Carole talked about riding styles for some time. It was a relief after comparing horses to squirrels.
“Okay, thanks,” Chad said
Lisa nodded to Carole.
Melanie
, she wrote on the note, and passed it back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said into the microphone. “Horses are the sweetest-smelling animals around, and I’d take the smell of three dozen horses any day over one jerky soccer-playing boy I know.” She disconnected, but not before she heard Melanie start to laugh.
Lisa cradled her head in her hands. Why had she lost her temper? It would only make things worse.
The phone rang again. “What color is a horse in the dark?”
“The same color it is in the light,” Carole snapped. She didn’t want to lose her temper, either, but she was starting to feel it go. Didn’t anyone in Willow Creek have a legitimate horse question? She patted Lisa’s hand encouragingly while the phone rang again.
“If horses only eat grass and oats and stuff like that, why do we tell people that they eat like a horse? Nobody I know eats only oats.”
No, Carole decided, no one in Willow Creek did.
The questions got worse and worse. Every time they finished one question, someone rang immediately with another.
“Let’s talk about Willow Creek’s middle-school radioproject,” Lisa said desperately. She ignored her short script and spoke at length, but when she had totally run out of words, she found that only two minutes had passed.
“Why doesn’t Stevie call?” Carole whispered. Lisa rolled her eyes and tried to sound cheerful, or at least not furious, for the next caller. They both knew why Stevie wasn’t calling. Every kid in Willow Creek was phoning in, and Stevie couldn’t get through.
S TEVIE COULD TELL from the strain in her friends’ voices that if Carole and Lisa had to answer one more question about how horses did or did not compare to squirrels (no, horses did not hibernate; yes, they probably would eat nuts; no, they didn’t bury nuts), they were going to break, go completely crazy, trash the barn, and probably get kicked out of the stable. She had to do something, but she couldn’t. She called and called, and all she got was a busy signal.
“
Arrhgyh
!” Stevie finally yelled, slamming the phone down. From upstairs came the thin wail of a startled baby. “Sorry, Deborah,” Stevie whispered.
“Out,” Deborah said, pointing to the door. “Now.”
S TEVIE SLUNK INTO the barn and draped herself over a chair. “I’ve been evicted,” she whispered under the cover of the commercial Carole had put on.
“Then we’re doomed!” Lisa whispered back.
“We were already doomed,” said Carole.
Horse Talk
was a failure, and they were doing a terrible job as its hosts. “
Horse Talk
! This is Carole!” she added when the phone rang as soon as the commercial ended.
“Hi, this is Roosevelt Franklin Godfreys the Third,” said the caller.
“That’s Chad,” Stevie mouthed.
“Hi, Rosie,” Lisa said. “You called in last week, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, um, I did,” said Chad. “I have another question.”
“Let’s hear it,” Carole said. She rolled her eyes at Lisa.
“What’s the difference between riding English and riding Western?”
“What?” Carole couldn’t help sounding startled.
“You know, the way cowboys ride doesn’t look like the way people ride when they jump and stuff.”
“Right,” Lisa said, grabbing the microphone and shooting Stevie a puzzled look
A real question! From Chad
? “Actually there aren’t as many differences as there might seem to be …” The Saddle Club rode Western style when they visited their friend Kate out West, so they knew a lot about it. Lisa and Carole talked about riding styles for some time. It was a relief after comparing horses to squirrels.
“Okay, thanks,” Chad said
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