Me and Katie (The Pest)

  “You got all that?” she cried. “All that? It’s not even your birthday yet. Mommy bought you a whole outfit? I don’t have any real outfits.”

  The Pest loves costumes. When she was little she liked to dress up. At first, Mom’s old clothes were good enough for her, but soon Katie wanted to be a policewoman, a doctor, a cowgirl, an Indian. She had all these costumes. But they were pretend. She wanted a real one.

  “Mommy never bought me a real outfit,” she fumed.

  “I’m sure that means she doesn’t love you as much as she loves me,” I muttered, but the Pest didn’t hear.

  She stamped her foot and crossed her arms.

  I turned around and faced her. Then I stamped my foot and crossed my arms.

  The Pest stuck her tongue out.

  I stuck my tongue out.

  “Meanie-mo,” she cried.

  “Meanie-mo,” I cried.

  The Pest narrowed her eyes.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Copycat!” she shouted.

  “Copycat!” I shouted.

  She ran out of the bathroom. “I’m telling!”

  I ran after her. “I’m telling!”

  “Mommy!” she called.

  “Mommy!” I called.

  The Pest ran in the kitchen. “Mommy?”

  I followed her. “Mommy?”

  “Shut up, Wendy. Just shut up,” yelled the Pest.

  “Shut up, Wendy. Just shut up,” I said.

  “Ha ha. Now you’re telling yourself to shut up.”

  “Ha ha. Now you’re telling yourself to shut up.”

  “Leave me alone!” Katie’s voice was rising. She was starting to sound hysterical.

  “Leave me alone!” I yelled anyway. I let my voice rise, too.

  “Mommy!” the Pest called down the basement stairs.

  “Mommy!” I called, leaning down behind her.

  No answer.

  Katie went furiously into the living room, looked out the window, and saw Mom in the front yard, watering the rosebushes. “Oh, good. There she is.”

  “Oh, good. There she is.”

  I followed so closely behind the Pest that I stepped on her heel and her shoe came off. But that didn’t stop her. She ran over to my mother with one bare foot.

  “How come Wendy got all that stuff?” she whined.

  “Those things are for her riding lessons,” replied Mom, putting the hose down.

  “But you never bought me an outfit.”

  “You have a piano for your piano lessons and an easel and paints and clay for your art lessons,” Mom said patiently. “Those are for Wendy.”

  “But I want an outfit.”

  “You have more costumes than you know what to do with,” said Mom.

  “Get her a pig outfit,” I suggested.

  “Wendy!” exclaimed my mother. “That’s enough.” She gave me a look. It meant “For heaven’s sake, be nice to your sister.”

  The Pest ignored us. “I don’t mean costumes like those. Not cowgirls and ballerinas. I want a real outfit—for one of my lessons.”

  “Such as what?” asked Mom.

  “Such as … such as … a beret for my art lessons,” answered the Pest triumphantly.

  “We’ll see,” said Mom.

  “How about a toad outfit,” I said, “or a cockroach outfit?”

  “That will do,” said Mom very firmly. She gave me another look. This one meant “You’re treading on thin ice, young lady.”

  The Pest went back in the house.

  I followed her.

  “You’re a spoiled brat,” she said.

  “You’re a spoiled brat,” I said.

  3.

  Peanuts

  “GOSH, YOU LOOK TERRIFIC, Wendy,” said Sara.

  I was sitting on the curb in front of my house, wearing my jodhpurs, boots, the hat, and my new plaid shirt.

  “Thanks,” I said. I glanced up and down the street, looking for the minibus. I felt a teeny bit nervous, but I’d never admit it. Actually, I felt more than a teeny bit nervous. My stomach felt as if it were riding the Scrambler at the amusement park.

  It was the day of my very first riding lesson. In less than an hour, I’d be on the back of a real live horse. I’d be riding it just like Maureen Beebe.

  “Will you tell me all about the lesson?” asked Sara, sitting down beside me. “You can come over after supper tonight.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Here comes the bus! Here comes the bus!” called a shrill voice.

  Katie. She’d been hiding behind the yew bush in our front yard. I swear, she is always spying on us.

  “Thanks a lot, Pest!” I yelled.

  Sara and I stood up. The bus pulled to a stop in front of us.

  “’Bye!” called Sara

  “’Bye,” I said. I climbed in. Three other kids were there, two girls and a boy. They were talking and laughing. I guess they already knew each other.

  I was the new kid.

  I sat in an empty seat.

  One of the girls smiled at me. “I’m Mandy,” she said.

  “Hi, I’m Wendy.”

  “And this is Vicky and this is Tom.”

  “And I’m Charlie Larrick,” the driver said over his shoulder.

  The van drove out of Riverside, along a country road with lots of green pastures and trees and cows. Finally I saw a wooden sign that said HASTY ACRES. We turned onto a gravel driveway. I stared out the window, looking for horses.

  We reached the end of the drive, and Charlie parked by a huge white farmhouse. Mandy opened the door and we scrambled out.

  “Come on!” said Mandy. “I’ll show you the stables.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me across the drive, away from the house. We ran to a building that looked like a barn. The big double doors were open. And right in front of them was an absolutely beautiful horse. He was a deep brown color with a white star between his eyes. His mane and tail were jet-black. He was standing patiently while a tall boy in a blue work shirt brushed his tail.

  “Ooh,” I said. I left Mandy’s side and went so close to the horse that I was almost touching him.

  The boy grinned at me. “You like her?” he asked.

  So “he” was a “she.”

  “Oh, yes!”

  The horse blinked her eyes. And then—I swear it—she smiled at me.

  I smiled back, not even feeling silly for smiling at a horse.

  “This is Peanuts,” said the boy. “And I’m Chris. You must be Wendy White. This is your first lesson. Would you like to ride Peanuts today? She’s very gentle.”

  “Oh, yes!” I said again, just as Mandy ran up and cried, “No fair! I wanted to ride Peanuts today.”

  “You know the rule,” Chris told her. “First come, first served. Why don’t you ride Mr. Chips or Daybreak? You like them just as well. And Peanuts is good for a first-time rider.”

  “All right,” said Mandy grumpily.

  Peanuts stood quietly while Chris groomed her. She blinked her eyes in the warm sun, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  Just as Chris was finishing with Peanuts, two car-pools arrived, bringing six more kids. They chose their horses, and after Chris had led the horses outside, he said we were ready to begin the lesson. He helped us line up the horses and we walked them away from the stable, along a dirt path, leading them by their bridles. I couldn’t help looking at Peanuts. A couple of times she glanced back with her soft brown eyes. She whuffled at me. I whispered to her. “Good girl,” I said. “You’re a good girl, Peanuts.”

  Whuffle, whuffle.

  Once she leaned over and whuffled right on my neck. It made me giggle.

  I think Peanuts liked me already.

  The path opened onto a clearing in a wide grassy field. A couple of riding rings were marked by white fences. Further away I could see a jumping course.

  I led Peanuts into the nearest ring, following the other kids. Inside the ring, they line
d the horses up side by side in a row across the middle.

  A woman in an outfit like mine crossed the ring. “Good afternoon, class,” she said. She looked at me. “Wendy White?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “I’m Mrs. Larrick. You’ve missed a couple of lessons, but you’ll catch up.” Mrs. Larrick smiled at me and rubbed Peanuts’s nose affectionately.

  Peanuts shook her head and sneezed.

  Everybody laughed.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” a voice called suddenly.

  I glanced behind Mrs. Larrick and saw a girl come running toward us across the ring. She looked a little older than Charlie, maybe twenty or so.

  “Hi, Paula!” cried Mandy.

  “Hi, Mandy. Hello, everybody,” said Paula.

  “Wendy, this is my daughter, Paula,” Mrs. Larrick told me. “She’ll help give the lessons. She’s my best instructor.”

  “I’m her only instructor,” Paula whispered to me.

  I smiled.

  Mrs. Larrick stepped back. “Okay, class. Please mount your horses.”

  For just a second, I panicked. I looked up at Peanuts. Suddenly she seemed awfully tall. How was I supposed to climb on her back? Maybe she’d be polite and stoop down for me.

  But I didn’t have to worry. Paula came over and put a wooden box in front of me. “Step up on the mounting block,” she said. “Grab the saddle, put your left foot in the stirrup, and pull yourself up, swinging your right leg over. Use the strength in your legs.”

  I hoisted myself up in the stirrup and swung my leg over.

  I was sitting on Peanuts!

  “Terrific!” exclaimed Paula.

  “Wendy, that was very good,” said Mrs. Larrick. “You’ve never ridden before?”

  “Nope.” Maybe all the baseball had given me good leg muscles or something.

  “That was excellent.”

  “Thank you,” I said, suddenly shy.

  I sat solidly on Peanuts. I liked the feel of her body underneath me. She seemed strong and sure of herself. She made me feel strong, too. I looked down. The ground seemed sort of far away. But I knew Peanuts wouldn’t let me fall off. At least, I didn’t think she would.

  I leaned forward a little and stroked Peanuts’s neck. I ran my hands through her mane. I almost expected her to purr, the way Sara’s cats do when you pat them. But Peanuts just stood patiently, whuffling every now and then.

  “All right, please form a line and walk your horses around the ring. Vicky, you lead off,” instructed Mrs. Larrick.

  When it was almost my turn, Paula appeared next to me. “Tell Peanuts to turn right by pulling on the right side of her reins. And kick her with your heels to make her start walking.”

  “Kick her?” I cried. “I can’t—”

  “It doesn’t hurt her,” said Paula. “It’s a signal, like a traffic light. She knows what it means. She’s used to it.”

  I hesitated.

  “Come on, Wendy,” said Tom, who was next to me. “I’m on Sky High and he doesn’t like to wait. For anything.”

  “Yeah, he’ll nip Peanuts’s tail if you don’t get going,” called Mandy.

  “Just remember that you’re the boss,” Paula told me. “You tell your horse what to do. You stay in control.”

  I drew in a deep breath and kicked Peanuts’s sides while I pulled on her rein. Peanuts turned and began walking toward the fence. She didn’t act as if I’d hurt her.

  “That’s it!” called Mrs. Larrick. “Good, Wendy!”

  “And you’re a good girl, too,” I whispered to Peanuts. “I’m sorry I had to kick you.”

  Peanuts plodded along. Every step she took made her back rise and fall. I went up and down, side to side, softly and slowly. It was a little like being on a raft on the ocean.

  Peanuts reached the fence and I pulled on the left side of her reins. She turned! Then she followed the other horses around the ring. Sky High and Tom were right behind us. Not too close, I hoped. I didn’t want any tail-nipping going on.

  “Keep your horse a good distance away from the one in front,” Mrs. Larrick said to the class, as if she could read my mind. “Slow down if you have to. Just pull back a little on the reins.”

  For the rest of the lesson we practiced walking—starting and stopping and turning. Peanuts did exactly what I told her to do. I just had to remember that I was in control.

  I decided I was very glad I was riding Peanuts and not riding Sky High. Sky High was a huge horse, taller than any of the others. (I guess that’s how he got his name.) And he was skittish. He didn’t always obey. He’d go dancing out of line. Or he’d stop suddenly and stretch his neck down to snack on some grass. And once he very nearly did nip Peanuts’s tail. Tom was always having to kick Sky High or stop him or pull his head up. Sky High was walking trouble.

  Peanuts was an angel. When the lesson was over, she glanced back at me as if to say, “How’d I do?”

  “You did great!” I told her, leaning over to hug her neck. “And I’m glad nobody nipped your tail. Sky High needs to go to charm school.”

  After the lesson, we led our horses back to the stables. Paula walked with me and we talked the whole way. She was a Marguerite Henry fan, too!

  When we reached the stables, I handed Peanuts over to Chris.

  “How was your lesson?” he asked.

  “Oh, it was terrific!”

  “She’s a pro, Chris,” said Paula. “She’s going to be a good rider.”

  “Peanuts is the best,” I said. I wished I had a horse of my own, just like Peanuts.

  “She’s a good old horse,” agreed Chris.

  “Old?” I repeated.

  “Yeah. She’s about the oldest horse here. … Oh, but don’t worry,” he added. “She’s got a few good years left in her.” He rubbed Peanuts’s neck.

  She whuffled and shook her head.

  “Well, ’bye, Peanuts,” I said.

  She stretched her neck toward me.

  “Next time I’ll bring you a carrot,” I called, as I raced for the bus.

  I was the last one on. I slumped into a seat.

  Mandy didn’t seem mad about Peanuts anymore. “Let’s sing ‘They Built the Ship Titanic,’” she cried, as Charlie turned the bus around.

  “Oh, no, please,” moaned Charlie. “Anything but that.”

  We sang it anyway, and ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt’ and ‘The Ants Go Marching’ and a bunch of other songs.

  When we reached my house, I leaped off the bus, calling good-bye to everyone.

  Then I ran inside to tell Miss J. about the lesson. It had been one of the best afternoons of my entire life.

  4.

  The Pest Strikes Again

  “GUESS WHAT!” I ANNOUNCED. I was sitting at the table with my family. Miss J. had just served us dinner.

  “What, lamb?” asked Dad.

  “Riding class was great! I rode this nice horse named Peanuts. She likes me already. She’s brown with a white star between her eyes. I mounted and dismounted all by myself. And I rode her around the ring. You don’t know what it feels like to be up on a horse. It’s wonderful!”

  “Honey, I’m so pleased,” said my mother. She and Dad were grinning. “I’m really glad you’ve found something you enjoy.”

  “I wish I owned a horse,” I said.

  Mom and Dad glanced at each other, then continued eating.

  Scott smiled at me from across the table. “Know what? Tomorrow we get pony rides at camp,” he said. “Just like you.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “You’ll have fun, Scottie.”

  I noticed that Katie was very quiet. She stirred her peas around her plate. Then she buried them under her mashed potatoes. She wasn’t looking at any of us.

  “Did you wear your boots and jodhpurs, Wendy?” she asked finally.

  “Yes,” I said. I was growing suspicious.

  “Mommy,” Katie said suddenly, “can I take riding lessons, too? I really want to.”

&nbs
p; “Do you have time?” Mom asked.

  “Mom, NO!” I shouted. I slammed my fork down on my plate.

  “Wendy,” warned Dad.

  “No fair! She can’t take riding lessons, too.”

  “Well, honey—” Mom began.

  “Don’t let her! Don’t let her!” I cried. I wanted to run upstairs to my room. But I stayed so I could see what would happen.

  “Katie, I thought you didn’t like horses,” said my father.

  “Yeah, they’re big and scary, Pest,” I said.

  “I am not a pest,” replied Katie. “And anyway, you said Peanuts was nice. Not big and scary. You said she likes you and—”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “That’ll do, Wendy,” said Mom. “Katie, you’re already taking three different kinds of lessons. How are you going to fit riding in, too?”

  “I don’t have any lessons on Tuesday or Thursday afternoons,” answered Katie. “And that’s when Wendy’s lessons are, right?”

  “Right,” agreed my mother slowly.

  “So can I?” Katie asked again. “Can I take riding, too? You let Wendy. And I really, really, really, really want to learn to ride.”

  “Oh, Mom.” How could I explain why I didn’t want Katie in my class? She was going to ruin everything for me. She’d probably get over being uncoordinated and turn into a champion rider before our very eyes. She’d win two thousand medals and cups, and we’d have to keep them in the garage so her bedroom floor wouldn’t give way and send Katie crashing through it into the laundry room.

  “Wendy, what’s wrong?” asked my mother.

  “I don’t want Katie in the same class with me. Can’t we take separate lessons?”

  “Why don’t you want Katie in your class?” asked Dad.

  “I—I just want to do something on my own, that’s all.” I wasn’t going to say that I thought Katie was better than I was. Not with Katie sitting right there at the table. And I certainly wasn’t going to let on that I planned to win a prize this summer just so I could show everyone I was good at something, too. It would spoil the surprise if it actually happened.

  “Well,” said Mom, “I guess I can understand that. There must be more than one beginners’ class. And since Charlie picks you up on the bus, it’s not as if it’s any extra trouble for Miss J. if you two go out to Hasty Acres separately. All right, Katie. You can take lessons. We’ll see if Mrs. Larrick can squeeze you in another class. But since you’re taking so many other lessons, and since they’re expensive, you’ll have to wait awhile before we buy boots or jodhpurs. You can ride in your hiking boots and jeans. We’ll find a secondhand hat somewhere.”