Show Judge Read online

  RL: 5, ages 009–012

  SHOW JUDGE

  A Bantam Skylark Book / November 2000

  “The Saddle Club” is a registered trademark of Bonnie Bryant Hiller. The Saddle Club design/logo, which consists of a riding crop and a riding hat, is a trademark of Bantam Books.

  “USPC” and “Pony Club” are registered trademarks of The United States Pony Clubs, Inc., at The Kentucky Horse Park, 4071 Iron Works Pike, Lexington, KY 40511-8462.

  All rights reserved

  Text copyright © 2000 by Bonnie Bryant

  Cover art copyright © 2000 by Alan Kaplan

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information address: Bantam Books.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-82600-8

  Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

  Bantam Skylark is an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc. SKYLARK BOOK and colophon and BANTAM BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.

  v3.1

  Special thanks to Sir “B” Farms

  and Laura Roper

  CAN ANYONE BE TRUSTED?

  The locker area was quiet as Lisa entered. She quickly scooped up her things and headed for the door. As she was about to exit, she stopped short and turned back. Carole’s cubby was open. Worse, her judging folder was sticking out where anybody could get to it! Lisa remembered how worried her friend had been that something might happen to the folder. Without another thought, Lisa moved quickly to the locker. She reached out to shove the items safely back inside when Carole tripped open the changing curtain, shouting, “Got you!”

  Lisa was so startled she actually gave a small scream.

  Carole stared, her face a mask of astonishment and anger. “You? You’re the one who did it? All this time I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out who had gotten into my folder, but it never occurred to me that it might have been Stevie or you!” Carole’s voice was shaking and her eyes were full of tears. “I thought I knew you, but I don’t know you at all!” With that, she ran out of the room, clutching her folder to her chest.

  My special thanks to Cat Johnston for her help

  in the writing of this book.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  About the Author

  “THIS IS REALLY great lasagna, Mr. Lake,” Carole Hanson raved as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.

  “Maybe the best ever,” agreed Lisa Atwood.

  “This is one of the bonuses when you guys spend the night,” Stevie Lake chimed in. “My dad has to dig out this awesome recipe.”

  Stevie’s father glowed with pleasure at the shower of compliments. “Mushrooms,” he declared. “The secret is mushrooms!”

  “Lasagna’s the only good thing about having a bunch of girls sleeping over,” grumbled Stevie’s youngest brother.

  “Michael, don’t be rude,” Mrs. Lake scolded. “It’s always a pleasure having you girls stay with us.”

  “Mom’s got a point,” Chad muttered from across the table. “With the two of you to distract Miss Motormouth, the rest of us may actually get a chance to use the telephone.”

  Stevie glared at her brother. He might have been older, but there was no way she was going to let him get away with that comment. “Here’s a quarter, Chad,” she said, flicking a coin at him. “Why don’t you call someone who might care?” The quarter landed closer to her twin brother Alex’s plate. Faster than a rattlesnake, he snatched it off the table.

  “Hey!” Stevie protested, holding out her hand for its return.

  “Finders keepers!” He grinned at her in triumph.

  “That’s enough, you three,” said Mrs. Lake. “Now, girls, what time is your Horse Wise meeting tomorrow?”

  Horse Wise was the name of their Pony Club. They all looked forward to the regular meetings at Pine Hollow Stables.

  “Mom,” groaned Stevie. “It’s been at the same time every Saturday for years.”

  “I think your mom was just testing you, sweetheart,” her father teased.

  Chad reached for some more buttery garlic bread. “It’s a good thing that test was about horses, otherwise she’d have had zero chance of passing it.”

  “At least I know something about something,” Stevie replied tartly. “Even with all the riding lessons you’ve taken, I could still write what you know about horses on the head of a pin!”

  “Chad is a pinhead, Chad is a pinhead,” Michael began to chant.

  “Oh, shut up!” said Chad, pinging him with a small bread ball from across the table.

  Michael ducked. “You shut up!”

  “No, you shut up!”

  Michael had an amazing ability to bring older kids down to his own level.

  Carole and Lisa watched and listened in stunned silence. Neither one of them could ever recall a scene remotely like this taking place in her own home.

  Carole lived with her widowed father, who was a Marine Corps colonel, and although he was a lot of fun and loved to share silly jokes, there was no way he would put up with this kind of behavior at the table.

  As for Lisa, she knew the very idea of raising her voice at dinner would upset her mother, who was a stickler for good manners at all times. Even if her older brother had been around more often, she couldn’t imagine the two of them behaving like this.

  “Chad! We do not throw food at the table,” his mother chastised him. “Now, don’t you have something to say to your brother?”

  Chad lowered his head. “All right. I’m sorry I dinged you with a bread ball.”

  “And I’m sorry you didn’t use something heavier,” cracked Alex. Stevie and her twin brother laughed and high-fived each other.

  Their father ran a hand through his hair. “Settle down, kids. By the way, someone left the back door open again.”

  Chad looked up with the face of pure innocence. “That was Stevie—as usual.” He returned to scarfing his food.

  Stevie ignored the comment and rested her chin on one hand. “What happened today, Chad? Didn’t like your packed lunch?”

  He stopped eating. “How did you know—Hey! So that was you?” He rose partially to his feet. “I should have known!”

  “Chad, sit down!” His mother pointed a finger at him. “Didn’t you like your meat loaf sandwich?”

  Chad lowered himself back into his chair but his eyes never left his sister. “I didn’t get a meat loaf sandwich, Mom. Did I, Stevie?”

  Lisa could tell from Stevie’s face that her friend had just been caught in her own net. Stevie was known for her practical jokes, which were as irresistible to her as catnip is to a cat, and she and Chad were particularly ruthless with one another.

  Mrs. Lake’s gaze shifted to her daughter. “All right, Stevie, what did Chad get for lunch?”

  Silence.

  “Stevie?” her father said with authority.
<
br />   Stevie looked sheepish. “Sardines on rye bread.”

  “Come on, keep it coming,” prodded Chad.

  “Okay, okay.” She broke. “Sardines on rye with sauerkraut, pickles, and ketchup.”

  “Ew!” squealed Michael.

  “But I did leave him a nice cream soda to wash it down with,” Stevie added in her own defense.

  “Oh man, Dad!” cried Chad. “I took a big bite of it and almost puked!”

  “Well, it serves you right, you creepoid!” Stevie turned to her two friends. “Last week he poured water into Madonna’s kitty litter box and the clay stuck to her paws. She practically had cement boots when that stuff hardened!”

  Alex began to snicker. “Man, that was a good one.”

  “Yeah, a good one,” mimicked Michael.

  “You two just shut up,” Stevie practically yelled at them. “Remember, you’re not immune, either.”

  Alex bristled. “Oh yeah? You just try something and see what comes your way!”

  “Yeah, we’re not scared of you!”

  With that, pandemonium broke out at the table, with all the kids yelling at once.

  Mr. Lake slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to make the glasses and silverware jump. “Enough!” he shouted. “That is enough!”

  “Absolutely,” their mother added, rising to her feet and throwing down her napkin. “You’ve reduced this house to complete chaos with your bickering. Your father and I want some peace and quiet for a change! Is that too much to ask?”

  Silence.

  “Well, is it?” she demanded, eyeballing her children. Stevie, Chad, Alex, and Michael all hung their heads in shame. “No, Mom,” they mumbled together.

  Mr. Lake turned to Lisa and Carole. “I’m sorry you girls had to see this. I’d like to think tonight’s behavior is the exception, not the rule, for this house.” He shifted his angry gaze to the Lake children. “Under the circumstances, I think everybody should just be excused.”

  Stevie was totally embarrassed. She had rarely seen her father so angry, and he’d certainly never lost his temper in front of company before. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t you think you owe Chad an apology as well?” her mother asked, still frowning.

  Stevie was unable to think of a way out, but she refused to look her brother in the eye as she did it. “I’m sorry about your sandwich, Chad.”

  “I’m sorry about your cat,” he muttered, focusing on his plate. “I guess,” he added.

  “I believe it’s your turn, Alex,” Mr. Lake prodded.

  “I’m sorry about the crack about using something heavier, Michael,” Alex said, sounding anything but.

  Mr. and Mrs. Lake looked at their youngest son expectantly.

  “But I didn’t do anything!” he complained.

  Mr. Lake’s frown deepened.

  Michael joined his siblings in lowering his eyes to the table. “I’m sorry,” he said to no one in particular.

  Eager to make some kind of amends, Stevie offered to take care of the dishes. Lisa and Carole immediately volunteered to help. As they cleaned up, the three girls talked quietly among themselves. “So, Stevie,” Carole asked, “what’s up with you and your brothers?”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of sibling rivalry, but that was something else,” added Lisa, her head still swimming.

  Stevie loaded the dishwasher. “I don’t know. They’ve really been getting on my nerves lately.”

  “You wouldn’t play any practical jokes on Michael,” said Carole, “would you?”

  Stevie smiled wickedly. “No, of course not, but wouldn’t it be funny if he came in one day and found sardine skeletons floating in the bowl?”

  Stevie couldn’t help giggling at the picture. Her friends didn’t find it quite so funny.

  “So …,” Stevie said, shutting the dishwasher door and hitting the Start button. “Are we done here? Because if we are, may I suggest we call a meeting of The Saddle Club?”

  The Saddle Club, a club the three girls had formed, had only two rules: one, you had to be absolutely horse-crazy, and two, you had to be willing to help the other members out, no matter what. Since they were all head over heels about horses and the best of friends, the rules were easy to follow. Of course from time to time Stevie’s practical jokes landed her in hot water, leaving her two pals to bail her out. They didn’t mind, though, because she had a good and fun-loving heart, and even though she came from a well-off family, she never put on any airs or graces like some other people—namely, her arch rival at the stable, the snobby Veronica diAngelo.

  Lisa was the least experienced rider of the three, but she was progressing very quickly, and her friends and riding instructors said she had natural ability. She was definitely the most levelheaded of the group, although she tended to put a lot of pressure on herself to over-achieve. Stevie and Carole were helping her learn to lighten up and have fun.

  Although one grade behind Lisa, Carole was the most experienced horsewoman. After her mother died of cancer, her dad encouraged her riding by buying a horse, which Carole named Starlight. She knew one thing for certain: whatever she decided to be in life, it was definitely going to have to do with horses. The possibilities included becoming a veterinarian, owning and breeding horses, and maybe being a professional rider.

  Once safely behind the locked door of Stevie’s bedroom, the girls’ talk quickly turned to the upcoming Horse Wise meeting at Pine Hollow Stables. At their last meeting, the owner of the stables, Maxmillian Regnery III—whom everybody just called Max—had hinted at a very special upcoming project, and the girls were dying to find out what it was.

  “I suppose it could be another guest lecturer,” Lisa speculated.

  “How about another overnight trail ride?” suggested Stevie. “I love those.”

  Carole threw a pillow at her. “That’s because Phil sometimes gets to come along.”

  Stevie’s boyfriend, Phil Marsten, lived out of town, so he and Stevie only got to see each other once or twice a month, but they talked on the phone often. They were both horse-crazy.

  Stevie laughed, ducking her friend’s fluffy missile. “So what’s your point?”

  Before Carole could answer there was a knock on the door. She started to get up to open it, but Stevie launched herself across the room, blocking the way. “Don’t open it! Don’t even make any noise!” She pulled her two friends toward the closet, whispering urgently in their ears. “Brothers! Revenge! Retribution! We’ve got to hide!”

  She yanked open the door and a knee-deep mound of very horsey-smelling laundry fell out. Lisa backed away, waving a hand under her nose. “Phew, I’m not going in there!”

  “Stevie, open up!” Chad called through the door. He sounded annoyed.

  “Quick, under the bed!” cried Stevie.

  Carole dropped to her knees, lifted the ruffle, and stopped dead.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Stevie.

  “Have you looked under here lately?”

  “What about it?”

  “Do you remember all those things that disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle? I think I just found them.”

  “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”

  Carole gave her a look, reached under the ruffle, and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms covered in dust bunnies. That was followed by an old hairbrush, a yo-yo with no string, a few mismatched socks, and a stuffed blue dog coated nose to tail in lint and dust.

  Stevie unhesitatingly grabbed the plush toy and hugged it. “Wubbie! There you are!”

  “What’s this?” asked Carole, studying the last object she’d extracted. “Your history report?”

  “Hey, I’ve been looking for that all over the place.”

  “When exactly was it due?” Lisa asked.

  “Actually, a week ago. But it’s okay, I told my teacher the dog ate it.”

  “Stevie, you don’t have a dog,” Carole reminded her.

  Stevie held up the stuffed hound dog with a
grin.

  Lisa shook her head, chuckling. “Sometimes I just don’t believe you.”

  “It’s not like I didn’t do the work,” Stevie said sulkily.

  Pounding rattled the door. Stevie figured that outside of jumping through the window and sliding down the drainpipe, there was no avenue of escape. She had seriously considered the possibility, but they were already in their nightgowns and it might prove undignified. She opened the door.

  All three brothers stood there.

  “About time,” Alex griped.

  Stevie braced herself for a possible water balloon attack but nothing happened.

  “Can we talk to you?” Chad asked.

  “I can’t say I’ve seen any evidence of talking so far tonight,” whispered Lisa to Carole. They both giggled.

  “All right, come in. But no funny business.”

  “Truce.”

  The boys walked in. “Look, we guys got talking, and I think I’ve figured out why Mom and Dad came unglued tonight,” Chad said. “They’ve got a major anniversary coming up in two weeks.”

  “That’s right!” cried Stevie. “I totally forgot.”

  Her parent’s twentieth wedding anniversary. How could she have forgotten such an important event? She had a hard enough time just imagining herself ever being twenty, let alone being married for twenty years. “We’ve got to get them something spectacular!”

  “That’s what we thought, too,” agreed Chad.

  “Then Alex suggested—”

  “And me!” Michael cried, pushing forward, not wanting to be left out.

  “And Michael,” amended Chad. “They suggested that if we all pooled our money, maybe we could come up with something really cool, instead of just four average presents.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Carole said from the bed.

  “Not bad at all,” added Lisa.

  “But what can we get them?” Stevie asked.

  “What about one of those Caribbean cruises?” suggested Alex. “I’ve seen Mom watch the commercials and get all dreamy-eyed.”

  “I don’t know how much money you guys have, but I don’t think we can quite swing that,” Stevie said reluctantly.

  Michael started jumping up and down. “We could get a new whatchamacallit for the swimming pool.”