Nightmare Read online

  “I don’t know. She’s usually more forthcoming about what’s on her mind, especially when she’s got a problem. So maybe we have to pry a little bit to see what’s going on.”

  “Sounds like a Saddle Club project to me,” said Lisa.

  “Yes, we should see if we can figure out what’s on her mind. Actually, there’s something I want to talk with her about anyway. I’ll call her a little later and see if I can get any information, so we’ll know what we’re dealing with here.”

  “Good idea. And it’s good if you call her, too. Because even if I’m going to get a C in history, I’ve still got a lot of irregular French verbs to memorize. One C will be enough for me this semester.”

  “Right,” Carole said, standing up. “I’ll get to work, too. See you in the morning.”

  As soon as Carole left the room, Lisa headed for her telephone. It suited her fine that Carole was going to call Stevie later, because Lisa was going to call her now. Carole was in trouble, and she and Stevie had to do something about it!

  A dopey-sounding Stevie came to the phone.

  “H’lo?” she said.

  “Did I wake you up?” Lisa asked. She looked at her watch. It was just eight-thirty!

  “Um, I don’t remember,” Stevie mumbled into the phone.

  There were a few similar exchanges of senseless conversation before Lisa could get Stevie turned in the right direction. Lisa had been talking with Carole about Stevie, but she was more concerned about Carole.

  “We’ve got to do something for Carole,” Lisa said. “She’s in trouble!”

  “Trouble?” asked Stevie. She was awake and alert now.

  “Trouble,” Lisa confirmed. “I think she’s so worried about her father that she’s letting absolutely everything drive her wild. I mean, she missed his call last night, and tonight she talked with Sergeant Fowler, who said everything was fine, but Carole doesn’t believe her!”

  “Oh no,” said Stevie. “Any good reason for her not to believe Sergeant Fowler?”

  “Not that I can see,” said Lisa. “It’s as if Carole’s decided she’s going to worry no matter what anyone tells her. And you know Carole. When she starts worrying senselessly, she can start doing the oddest things. We’ve got to find a way to let her know that everything’s fine with her father.”

  “Maybe we should call Sergeant Fowler,” suggested Stevie.

  “That’s exactly what I had in mind,” Lisa said. “And you’re the person to do it. You’re the best person I know at convincing adults to do something they don’t necessarily know they ought to be doing, and you’ll have to talk her into getting Colonel Hanson to call at a time when we know Carole will be home and can talk to him.”

  “And who’s going to convince him to tell Carole that he’s okay in a way she’ll believe?” Stevie asked.

  It sometimes surprised Lisa when her friends were more logical than she was, but she had to admit that Stevie had asked a good question.

  “We’ll come up with something,” said Lisa.

  It sometimes surprised Stevie when her friends were more illogical than she was, but Lisa was right. They would come up with something, somehow.

  “Now, can I go back to bed?” Stevie asked.

  “Sure,” Lisa said. She didn’t think it was a good idea to mention that Carole would be calling her later that night.

  “I CALLED STEVIE last night, but Chad answered and said she was sound asleep—at nine o’clock!” Carole told Lisa the following morning. The two of them were sitting at the breakfast table. Carole was eating a bowl of cereal. Lisa was having toast and a glass of juice. Normally Mrs. Atwood made breakfast for the family. This morning, however, both Lisa and Carole had awakened very early. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet, and they were both dressed and hungry.

  “I guess she really was tired yesterday,” said Lisa, sipping her orange juice.

  “Just like we may be tonight because of getting up so early! Say, what woke you up?” Carole asked.

  “Oh, I guess my determination to follow through on my new plan,” said Lisa. “I’m excited about it. It’s so daring! Anyway, I want to get to school early so that I can do some work in the computer lab.”

  “Oh,” said Carole. Then she thought that in the whole wide world, it would only be Lisa Atwood who would need to get to school extra early in order to get a poor grade. Carole decided to keep that thought to herself. “Well, as long as you’re leaving early, I’ll leave with you,” she said. “There’s something I want to check in the library.”

  “Good,” said Lisa. “I like to have company walking to school.”

  They didn’t talk much as they walked. It was so early that both of them were still a little dozy. The streets and sidewalks of Lisa’s neighborhood were empty except for the occasional commuter headed for the train station. There were no clusters of children waiting for buses or mothers herding students into cars. That would all happen an hour later. For now, the town was a slightly different world from what either Carole or Lisa was accustomed to.

  “See you at lunch,” Lisa said, waving cheerfully to Carole as she headed for the computer lab. Carole hung her jacket in her locker and stowed her book bag there until her first class. She didn’t need her books for her errand in the library.

  The librarian looked up and greeted Carole as she came in. She was always there early for any students who wanted or needed to be at school early. This morning, there weren’t any other students in the library. Carole smiled back. She didn’t need any help. She knew where to look.

  She went to the fiction section for older readers and walked along the shelf until she came to the J’s. There it was, The Path to Freedom by Elizabeth Wallingford Johnson. Carole was curious about the book. She was curious because the Underground Railroad was a subject that interested her, but she was more curious because the book seemed to have a sort of hold on Stevie. Stevie would give her her own copy to read when she’d finished it, and that wouldn’t be too long. In the meantime, though, Carole wanted to get a head start. Maybe it would cast some light on what was going on in Stevie’s head. Between Lisa and Stevie, Carole would have preferred to understand what was going on in Lisa’s head. The glimpse she’d had last night, however, had convinced her that it was too weird for her to be able to understand. She had a better shot at Stevie’s head. Stevie could be weird, for sure, but there was always a pleasantly twisted logic to her weirdness.

  She took the book off the shelf and settled down on the big, comfortable sofa to read. She had forty-five minutes before the bell. That was enough to get some insight. At least she hoped it was.

  She was on page fourteen when she became aware that someone else had come into the library. The other person was clicking furiously at the keys of the computer catalog, making notes, printing out lists. It was eager, excited activity, hard for Carole to ignore, and when the other person said, “Oh, wow!” Carole looked up.

  It was none other than Fiona Jamieson, and Carole was sure she was working on the bibliography for her history paper—due in six months. What was the matter with these people?

  “Fiona?” Carole said.

  The girl set the computer to work on another search and then turned around in her chair. “Oh, hi. Carole, isn’t it?” They weren’t in the same class, so it wasn’t surprising that Fiona wasn’t sure who she was.

  “Right. Carole Hanson,” Carole confirmed. “What are you doing here at this hour?” Carole hoped she sounded friendly rather than accusatory, which was how she felt.

  “Oh, I’m just looking up some stuff,” said Fiona.

  Of course she’s just looking up some stuff, thought Carole. That’s what people do on a computer catalog. “Got a paper coming up?” she asked.

  “Not really,” said Fiona. “I mean, I do, but it doesn’t have to be done for months. I just like to get ahead on my reading. I feel better when I do that, and I know I learn a lot more if I’m prepared for the classes.”

  That made sense to Carole
.

  “So what are you doing here?” Fiona asked.

  “Just reading a book someone recommended,” said Carole. “It’s about the Underground Railroad. I’ve just started it, though.”

  “Oh, The Path to Freedom? I read that. It’s really good. You’ll love it. It’s got this wonderful, authentic feel to it—like you’re right there with Hallie.”

  “That’s what I heard,” said Carole.

  The computer beeped, informing Fiona that her search was complete. She turned back to the screen. Carole turned her eyes back to her book, but her attention was on Fiona.

  Fiona seemed very normal—not at all the apple-polishing goody-goody Lisa made her out to be. Fiona was interested in what she was studying and wanted to know more than she could get from the textbook. That seemed admirable to Carole, not despicable, as Lisa found it. Clearly, Lisa was viewing Fiona solely as competition, just the way she sometimes thought of her grades as contest results. Winning was what mattered.

  From what Carole had seen so far, Lisa could stand to take a page out of Fiona’s book. It wasn’t going to do any good to suggest that to Lisa. Lisa would have to learn it herself. Choosing to get a C was no more the answer than choosing to work herself to death to get an A+.

  Then Fiona stood up from the computer and hurried over to the shelves. Carole watched surreptitiously while Fiona’s eyes scanned the shelf for the book she wanted. She pulled a book out, flipped it open to the index, and then turned to a page near the middle.

  “Great!” she said. It was an involuntary utterance, just as the earlier “Wow” had been. This was a girl who really loved to learn, Carole thought. She found it almost inspirational.

  “Found something interesting?” Carole asked.

  “Definitely!” Fiona responded. “Extra credit, I’m sure! I’m trying to study up on the German economy between the wars, and there’s enough material here and in some of these other books for me to do a whole project on it. If I can get some extra credit, I’m sure to get an A-plus, and I really want that. Isn’t it great?”

  Carole’s heart sank. She’d misread Fiona completely. The girl was as nuts as Lisa. Maybe more. Lisa hadn’t been considering extra credit!

  Carole couldn’t contain herself anymore. She loved Lisa so much that she could hold her tongue for her, but Fiona wasn’t her best friend, so she couldn’t curb her feelings. They flooded her and then burst out.

  “I’ve had enough of this stuff!” she declared angrily. “Do you really think school and grades are just a contest? What’s important here is what you can learn and how much you can enjoy it and what it all means to you as an individual! What difference does it make if a piece of paper says you’re really good at school or really, really good at school? The only thing that matters in school or anyplace is whether you’ve done the best you can. Being better than someone else doesn’t matter at all!”

  Fiona looked at Carole, stunned. This was a girl Fiona barely knew, and she was giving her a lecture on the meaning of school and life! Carole wasn’t finished, either.

  “Do you have any idea how it feels to be utterly helpless in a situation? Do you know what it means when you can’t solve a problem by getting extra credit—or what it means to fail completely? It’s time for some people to learn that life isn’t just about things you can control with your obsessions! It’s about things that control you, too!”

  With that, Carole stood up from the sofa, placed her book on the return shelf, and walked out, leaving behind an astonished history student.

  Her own words echoed in her mind. She meant them. She wasn’t sorry she’d said them. She was, however, surprised at how much she’d revealed to herself. Helpless, out of control, failing. Yes, that was exactly how she felt. Briefly she wished she could get some extra credit at life, bring her father home, and heal all the sick horses. It didn’t work that way, though, and she knew it.

  OUT OF CONTROL. That was the way Carole was feeling, and that was the way her world felt. There was no better way to describe it. She’d realized that when she was speaking to Fiona, and nothing that had happened all day long at school had made her feel any better.

  Even now, done with school for the day and on her way to Pine Hollow, she didn’t think anything was looking up. Nothing, and she meant nothing, was going the way she wanted it to.

  In the first place, there was Lisa, totally weirded out—first by her compulsion to win and then by her compulsion to lose. Next came Stevie. She was behaving weirdly, too. Even though weird was pretty normal for Stevie, she was unusually weird, and she was exhausted. Something was up, and Carole had no idea what it was or what she could do about it. Next, even though the Atwoods were trying hard to make her feel at home, she didn’t really feel at home because it wasn’t home. She was always comfortable at Lisa’s house, as long as she knew she could go to her own home. This time she couldn’t, and that made her think of the things she really couldn’t control, things that were distressing her the most.

  Her father first. Where was he? What was he up to? Why couldn’t they ever talk to one another? She missed him desperately, but most of all, she was worried about him. And then there were all the horses at Pine Hollow. When Carole closed her eyes, she saw rows and rows of empty stalls, an entire stable wiped out by a dreadful disease. EIA, swamp fever—whatever it was called, it was spelled d-e-a-t-h.

  Carole walked faster, hurrying to Pine Hollow. She had to be there; she had to help her beloved horses. Sure, only one was hers in the legal sense, but they were all beloved in every single sense. There had to be something she could control in the nightmare that was called her life these days.

  She’d been walking so fast that she got to Pine Hollow before any of the other schoolkids did. Lisa wasn’t coming this afternoon. She’d said she had something else she had to do after school. Stevie wasn’t planning to come, either, though Carole couldn’t remember if she’d said what it was she was doing. Other riders would show up. They always did, but they weren’t there yet. Carole felt as if maybe she was the only one in the world who remembered that Judy was supposed to call this afternoon with the results of the blood tests for all the rest of the horses in the stable—including Delilah.

  Carole dropped her book bag and jacket in her cubby and hurried out to the stalls. They were all full. Her nightmare of empty stalls had been just that: a nightmare.

  The stable had horses in it, but there were no people. Mrs. Reg was in her office. She and Max were going over papers and were so engrossed in them that they barely waved to Carole. She knew they’d tell her if there was any news from Judy. Then Carole remembered. This was the day Judy worked at CARL, the County Animal Rescue League. There wouldn’t be any news from her until she got home—after six o’clock.

  Carole hurried to Starlight’s stall. Starlight greeted her warmly, nuzzling her neck. He was so sweet and wonderful that Carole wished she could thank her father again, right then and there, for giving Starlight to her. She checked Starlight’s water and hay and saw that both supplies had been replenished recently. His stall was clean, too, so there wasn’t any work for Carole to do there—except, of course, to hug him and give him a carrot, which she did.

  She checked on Belle and Prancer. Obviously, Red had had a busy day, because their stalls were clean as well.

  With an uncomfortable feeling, Carole realized that maybe Red wasn’t so busy. He had extra time because business was slow at Pine Hollow. Without any horses coming and going and with some riders staying away, even if they didn’t have to, the place was quiet. There was plenty of time to do chores all day long.

  It felt odd to be at Pine Hollow with nothing to do. She wasn’t planning to ride that day, so she’d counted on chores to keep her mind off all the things it seemed to want to think about. There had to be something she could do.

  Of course. She could check on Delilah. The sunshine of the autumn afternoon warmed her back as she walked to the feed shed. Carole was oblivious to it. All she could think of
was Delilah—lovely, kind, sweet, gentle, motherly Delilah. Carole’s hand trembled when she reached for the doorknob to enter the feed shed. What would she find? Would it be the frisky, curious mare she loved, or would she find more symptoms of the disease she didn’t even want to think about?

  Being afraid wasn’t going to solve anything. Carole opened the door and stepped in.

  Delilah was sick. She lifted her head to greet Carole, but there was no eagerness, as if she didn’t have any to share. Someone who didn’t know Delilah might not see it as quickly as Carole did. Most people saw Delilah’s beautiful coat and silvery mane long before they saw anything else about her. Delilah’s coat and mane were as beautiful as they always were. And although there were horses who always looked at visitors dully, Delilah wasn’t one of them.

  Carole hurried over to the mare. Delilah lifted her head over the gate to her stall, waiting for the loving greeting she knew she’d get from Carole. Carole held her ever so gently, afraid she might make something hurt, but the horse wasn’t in pain and clearly wanted a good hug—the kind she usually got from Carole. Carole delivered. As she did, however, she became aware that Delilah felt very warm.

  Carole had always thought her father was being silly when he’d kiss her on the forehead and then tell her he thought she might be coming down with something.

  “Oh, Daddy,” she’d say.

  “Well, you feel warm to me, baby,” he’d tell her. “You feeling okay?”

  “I feel fine,” she’d tell him.

  “Go get me the thermometer,” he’d tell her. The thermometer almost always agreed with her father, and Carole almost always spent the next couple of days in bed, recovering.

  This time, she didn’t have to get the thermometer any more than her father did. She knew from holding her that Delilah had a fever.

  Carole stepped back and took a look at Delilah. Nothing she saw gave her comfort. The mare’s legs seemed puffy, and the skin around her eyes seemed pale. Carole checked Delilah’s mouth. Her cheeks and gums seemed paler than usual, too.