Before They Rode Horses (4 page)

“Well, think of it as doing what we can to help Pine Hollow. After all, this is Max’s baby we’re talking about—Max the Fourth. One day, this baby will own Pine Hollow and teach kids how to ride. We have to make sure that his birth is as pleasant as possible for his mother. So, if you think about it that way, it
is
about horses.”

“Sort of,” Stevie agreed.

“I guess so, a little anyway,” Carole conceded.

“I’ll go first,” said Lisa. “Come on.”

The girls followed her back into the living room. As soon as they walked in, Deborah’s eyes opened expectantly.

“I wish Max were here to hear this!” she teased.

Lisa set the tray down. She handed Deborah a little dish filled with crushed ice. Then she poured tea for her friends. It didn’t take anywhere near as much time as she had hoped. In a matter of seconds, Deborah and her friends looked at her curiously. She took a deep breath and began.

W
HEN
I
WAS IN
fifth grade, Ms. Stevens was the drama teacher at Willow Creek Elementary School, and she decided that we should do a big holiday production. She chose
A Christmas Carol.
All that fall, there was a buzz of excitement in our class. Our homeroom teacher, Ms. Barnard, read us the whole book, and then we read the play. Everybody knows the story, I think. It’s all about a mean old miser named Scrooge who has lost sight of what’s important in life and just lives for money. He’s got plenty of that, but it’s really all he has. Ms. Barnard explained that he was so miserable that he didn’t even know how miserable he was. Then one Christmas Eve the ghost of his dead business partner comes to his room and tells him that he’s going to be visited by three spirits, one of Christmas Past, who shows
him how wonderfully happy he was in his early years; one of Christmas Present, who shows him how some poor people are really much happier than he is with all his wealth; and one of Christmas Future, who shows him how bleak his world will be unless he changes his ways. For most of the play, Scrooge is a really despicable man. He doesn’t even want to let his employee have a day off for Christmas! The employee is Bob Cratchit, and his son is Tiny Tim—you know, the one who says, “God bless us, every one!”

I wanted to be the Ghost of Christmas Past in the worst way. We only read the book once in class. I must have read it four more times at home, and that was my favorite character. She was wonderful. She got to take Scrooge back to his childhood and through the beautiful Christmasses when there was happiness in his heart. I knew, too, exactly what she should wear. I had a black tutu that I had from my ballet recital of
Swan Lake.
It was perfect for the Ghost of Christmas Past, because she’s sort of a delicate child as well as an adult. Ms. Stevens said she was ethereal. That sounded like my ballet dress, even though I didn’t know what it meant. All I’d have to do was add something Christmassy, maybe
some holly in my hair or something like that, and my dream would come true.

My mother was as excited as I was. In fact, she might have been more excited. You know the way she gets. She even wanted me to take extra acting lessons so I’d get the part I wanted.

“Are you
sure
this is a story that’s going to help me know how to be a good mother?” Deborah asked.

“The best,” Lisa said.

“What does
ethereal
mean?” Stevie asked.

All three girls looked at Deborah.

“Airy and delicate,” Deborah said. “Sort of like a ballet dress.” Lisa smiled proudly and continued her story.

So, anyway, on the day of the tryouts, Ms. Stevens gave everybody a copy of the script and a chance to read as many parts as they wanted. I only wanted one, so I only read for one part. The problem was that I had to try out with somebody else, and that somebody else was, of course, Scrooge. She chose Larry Titus for the job.

“Oh, gross!” said Stevie.

“The worst!” Carole added.

“A creep?” Deborah asked.

“Worse. He’s a brat and a bully and a pain in the
saddle area,” Carole explained. “The only good thing about him is that he moved out of town last year.”

“He’s the kind of boy who pulls wings off flies,” Stevie explained.

“Oh dear, sounds like a perfect Scrooge,” said Deborah.

“Well, he was mean enough,” said Lisa. She poured some more tea into everybody’s cup and then continued her story.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past!” I said.

“Give me a break!” said Larry.

Everything he did made me look bad. He confused me and he made me flustered. I completely lost track of where I was in the script, because he wasn’t in the script. He just sort of said what came into his mind, and it wasn’t ever very nice. Ms. Stevens had to tell him everything to say. He said it all with a snarl.

He was the meanest, crudest, rudest boy in the class, and when he got on the stage, everybody who was watching just sort of cringed.

Ms. Stevens made us wait three days before she announced the cast for the play. I think it was just about the longest three days I ever lived. I will never forget sitting in the assembly hall, waiting for the news. Ms. Stevens had the cast list in her hand.
I couldn’t imagine what we were all about to hear, but I was sure it was the most important list I had ever heard read. At the very least, I was sure it would mean the end of Larry Titus. There was no way Ms. Stevens would let him have a part when he’d been so awful at tryouts. I kept trying to remember what the smallest part in the play was. I guessed maybe he’d be playing the pawnbroker or something like that. That thought made me feel good all over.

Deborah’s brows furrowed suddenly. Her hand went to her belly and she began to massage it gently. She breathed in deeply through her nose and blew it out in a slow stream through her mouth.

Lisa looked at her watch automatically. So did Carole, Stevie, and Deborah. They smiled at one another. It was exactly fifteen minutes since the last contraction.
No
change. Lisa proceeded with her story.

Naturally, Ms. Stevens gave a talk about how there are no small parts, only small actors.

“I’ve heard that one,” said Stevie. “It didn’t make me feel any better when the teacher made me play a tree in the forest in
Little Red Riding Hood.”

Lisa and Carole laughed. What was funny was the idea that anybody could suppress Stevie’s irrepressible personality by turning her into fauna. They were absolutely
certain that Stevie had found a way to be the center of attention during the performance.

“But I fooled them,” said Stevie, confirming her friends’ suspicions. “All during the rehearsal, I kept rocking back and forth, and when my teacher asked me what I thought I was doing, I told her that there was a breeze and my branches were swaying in the wind. When the boy who was playing the wolf got chicken pox, I got his part. Served him right. He wasn’t at all scary. I was very scary.”

“Let Lisa continue,” said Deborah.

Finally, Ms. Stevens read the cast list. Number one was Scrooge. “Larry Titus,” she said. I thought she was calling him to tell him to stop doing whatever he was doing. But she actually meant that Larry Titus was going to play Scrooge! I don’t think I heard anything at all after that. In fact, I didn’t know I’d been made the Ghost of Christmas Past until Cheryl Tripp clapped me on the back and congratulated me.

I just sat and stared. It was as if my worst night-mare and my best dream had come true at the same time. Every second I was onstage, I was going to be with Larry. He didn’t like anybody, but he really hated me. He hated me because he was sure that
earlier I’d told Ms. Barnard that he hadn’t read
The Secret Garden.
That he’d just written his book report from the movie.

I went home that day practically crying. The minute I walked in the door, my mother knew something was wrong.

“Don’t tell me. You’re one of the Cratchit girls,” she said. She didn’t like the Cratchit girls. They were just tiny parts and the girls did almost nothing but simper and look pathetically at Tiny Tim or adoringly at their parents.

I didn’t want her to worry about this because my mother always worries about things, but I couldn’t contain myself. I burst into tears and told her about my part, which made her happy, and about Larry Titus, which made her furious. She said she was going to call Ms. Stevens and make her change the cast. That wouldn’t have worked, of course, and it would have made things much, much worse. I told her I’d already made up my mind what I was going to do about the situation.

“I know, I know!” Stevie said, raising her hand as if she were trying to get a teacher’s attention.

“Me too,” said Carole. Her hand shot up as well.

“I never told you this story, did I?” asked Lisa.

“No, but we know you,” said Stevie.

“So, all right, Miss Know-It-All, what did I do?” Lisa asked, challenging her.

“You decided that no matter what Larry Titus did, you would be the best possible Ghost of Christmas Past,” Stevie said.

“You do know me, don’t you?” Lisa asked, blushing.

“That’s what friends are for,” said Deborah.

II

B
Y THE FIRST
rehearsal, I’d memorized all my lines. I’d read the play through so many times that I understood all of it. Remember, I’d taken acting classes the year before. I knew how important it was to understand my character and how she interacted with all the other characters—in this case, just Scrooge, since the two of us are totally invisible to everybody else in the world as we travel back in time. I got a good night’s sleep. I wanted to be totally prepared for everything that might happen. As it turned out, I wasn’t at all prepared for anything that did happen.

Larry was every bit as much a pain in the rehearsal as he had been in the tryouts. He acted as if he hadn’t even read the script through, so everyone
thought he didn’t know what to say to me. He just kept making up lines as we went along.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past,” I said. Larry is supposed to ask, “Long past?” and then I say, “No. Your past.” Instead, he said “Past what?” He didn’t even say it, though, he snarled it.

I looked him straight in the eye. I can tell you there was a gleam in there. He knew perfectly well what he was doing. He was trying to make me goof up, but I decided I wasn’t going to let him do it. Every time he messed up a line—and he messed them all up—I figured out a way to get back to the script so he couldn’t ruin it for me.

I kept waiting for Ms. Stevens to barge in, and when she didn’t, I tried to figure out why. Everyone else in the cast was watching, too. It was like they were waiting for a train wreck. There’s a point where I’m taking him back to his school and I ask him if he remembers the path to the building. In the script, he does, but that day, Larry couldn’t remember anything.

“Nope,” he said.

So, instead of getting flustered, I just told him he should take my hand and I’d show him the way.

Finally, Ms. Stevens said we should take a break.

“Take five”—that’s what they say in the theater, like a five-minute break. I just sat down on the bench that was supposed to be Scrooge’s bed. Larry ran off with his bratty friends.

Ms. Stevens came over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing a great job,” she said. “I know Larry can be difficult, but I also know that you’ll help him be a great Scrooge. Just hang in there.”

Those words meant more to me than I can really tell you. It meant she’d seen everything and knew exactly what was going on. As long as I stuck to my guns, Larry would eventually come around. Or at least that’s what Ms. Stevens and I hoped would happen.

What I didn’t know was that my mother was watching everything. As soon as I got home that night she told me she’d seen the rehearsal. She had this terribly sad look on her face. I figured she felt sorry for me.

“Lisa, I’ve heard you practicing your lines,” she said very solemnly. “I know you weren’t saying the same things onstage that you read out of the script all weekend. You’re going to have to work harder to get your lines right or else Ms. Stevens is going to take the part away from you.”

“Mom—”

“No excuses, dear. I’ll test you on them, or your father will if you’d like.”

“Mom—”

“I know it was just the first rehearsal, but if you don’t do it right from the beginning, it won’t be right at the end. I’m sure that’s what Ms. Stevens was telling you at the break, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t me!” I said. “It was Larry.”

“Now, Lisa, you can’t go blaming that boy. He has a difficult part, but he’s doing a wonderful job with it. He seems totally into the character, so mean, so rude!”

“Mother!”

“Well, dear, I know you’ve taken acting lessons. Those classes last year must have done you
some
good or Ms. Stevens wouldn’t have given you this part. Still, I could tell that it wasn’t working, and if it’s not your acting exactly, it must be your approach to the part and to the other characters. Remember, Scrooge is going to have to make a complete change from that horrible character that he is when you first meet him to the delightful and generous man he becomes in the end of the story. It really falls to you to do the bulk of the work. I mean, if he doesn’t believe what you show him and
begin his transformation with his trip to the Christmasses of his past, well, then he never will. In any event, it’s decided, and you’ll begin on Tuesday afternoon.”

My mother is like that sometimes. I get this stuff out of left field when I have no idea what’s coming. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that she can be the most stubborn woman in the world. Sometimes my dad teases her and says that what she’s saying is, “My mind is made up; don’t confuse me with the facts.” That day was a good example of it. The problem was that Larry was so mean to me that Mom completely believed he was Scrooge. By being good at being bad, he made me look bad—to my mother, of all people.