Yankee Swap (13 page)

Stevie stood up and headed for Max before he even called her name. She grinned good-naturedly. “Thanks, Max,” she said. “This is such an honor. Do I get to make a speech?”

Max rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve heard enough of your speeches lately, Miss Lake,” he responded gruffly. But his eyes were twinkling, and he gave Stevie a wink as he handed her the blue ribbon.

Max went on to pass out more awards, some serious and some silly. Soon almost everyone in the class held a blue ribbon. Carole won for being the Best All-Around Jumper. Lisa took the prize for Most Considerate. Simon won the Weakest Glue in the Saddle award, since he had fallen off Bluegrass several times during the course of the week. Veronica accepted the award for Best-Trained Horse; Adam Levine won Best Form for his jumping position; and Joe took the blue for Most Precise for the accuracy of his pacing. Polly Giacomin won a ribbon for Best-Dressed Horse—her gelding, Romeo, had a fancy red monogrammed saddle pad. Meg Durham, who had been fighting a cold all week, won The Show Must Go On award; and Betsy Cavanaugh won a blue for Most Giggling.

“That’s one award that’s certainly deserved,” Stevie whispered to her friends as Betsy went up to accept her ribbon, giggling wildly all the way.

“And now,” Max said, when there was only one blue ribbon left in his envelope, “we have the most important award
of all. This is the one that demonstrates why intensive clinics like this are important. It’s the award for Most Improved.”

Carole, Stevie, and Lisa turned to look at Merrill, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was watching Max attentively.

“This award goes to the student whose jumping has improved the most dramatically over the past week,” Max went on. “The rider I’m talking about started this week so nervous about jumping that she could hardly look at a fence without shaking. I wasn’t sure she was going to make it through the clinic, and I suspect she wasn’t sure, either.”

By this time, everyone in the room was looking at Merrill.

“But by today, she was jumping as if she’d been doing it all her life,” Max declared. “She has made great strides this week, and I’m glad she stuck with it. Merrill Minot, come on up here and get your ribbon.”

Merrill blushed and stood up. She walked over to Max and shyly accepted the ribbon. “Thanks, Max,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome, Merrill,” he replied. “Nice work.” Seeing how uncomfortable she was with all the attention, Max allowed her to hurry back to her table, where The Saddle Club greeted her with congratulations and pats on the back. Merrill accepted both happily.

“That’s it for the awards,” Max said. “Now let’s eat!”

“Thank goodness,” Stevie declared, as Red and Mrs. Reg entered with trays piled high with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, homemade cornbread, and all sorts of other good things. “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!”

A
FTER
EVERYONE
HAD
eaten, Max stepped to the center of the ring again. “Now we have a special treat,” he said. “Just when you thought you couldn’t eat another bite, you’re going to have to find room somewhere, because …”

He gestured to the door. Mrs. Reg entered, bearing a huge, white-frosted cake on a silver tray. She carried it over to the table where The Saddle Club was sitting. Written on the top of the cake in icing were the words
HAPPY
BIRTHDAY
MERRILL
AND
JOE
. Mrs. Reg pulled a book of matches out of her pocket and started lighting the candles, which formed a ring around the letters.

“We’re celebrating a couple of birthdays today,” Max said. “Joe, pull up a chair. You and Merrill are going to have to work to blow out all of those candles.”

Joe grinned and obeyed, dragging his chair over to the table and inserting it between Merrill and Lisa. “I’m ready when you are, Merrill,” he announced when all the candles had been lit.

Merrill was blushing again, but she was smiling, too. “I’m ready,” she said.

“Okay, then, on the count of three,” Max said. “One … two … three … blow!”

Merrill and Joe blew out all the candles in one try.

“I hope you made a wish!” Stevie cried.

Joe smiled at Merrill. “I did,” he replied. Only Merrill’s friends could tell that the already pink-cheeked Merrill turned even pinker.

“Okay, everybody, line up,” Mrs. Reg said. She stepped forward with a cake knife and began cutting large slices.

“Now,” Max began, when everyone was munching happily on the delicious cake, “it’s time for something I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for. In honor of our birthday girl and boy, and thanks to our tireless planner of party fun—Stevie Lake—it’s time for the Yankee Swap!”

Everyone headed for the wide main aisle, where they had left their wrapped gifts. Red dragged the box into the center of the aisle. Stevie hurried forward to help him take out the gifts, which were all sorts of interesting shapes and sizes, and arrange them so everyone could see.

“Come on, sit down in a circle,” Stevie directed the other students. “You too, Max, Red, Mrs. Reg. You wanted to be part of this, you know.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mrs. Reg said. She had
dragged a chair from one of the tables in the ring. “But no sitting on the ground for me. I’m not as young as the rest of you, you know.”

Soon they were ready to start. Stevie quickly explained the rules once again. “So once you’ve chosen your gift and unwrapped it, you decide whether you want what you’ve picked or if you’d rather trade with someone else who has already picked. Then you just have to wait and see whether you get to keep what you chose,” she said. “Anyone who picks after you can decide to trade with you if they want to. So you really never know what gift you’re going to end up with. Everybody get it?”

“Got it,” several people responded.

“Good,” Stevie said. “Now for the order. Plain old alphabetical is so boring, don’t you think? Besides, we don’t want Max to be able to go last and have his pick of the prizes. So I have a better idea. We’ll go in reverse alphabetical order according to
first
names.”

“So where does that put me?” Mrs. Reg asked mischievously.

Stevie realized that none of them knew Mrs. Reg’s first name. And she could tell by the grin on the woman’s face that she wasn’t about to tell. Stevie thought fast. “Why, between Polly and Merrill, of course,” she said calmly. “For ‘Missus.’ ”

Everyone laughed, Mrs. Reg loudest of all. “That works for me,” she declared.

“Great,” Stevie said. She smiled sweetly at Veronica. “That means you go first, Veronica.”

Giving Stevie a suspicious look, Veronica tossed her long,
straight hair behind her shoulder. Then she leaned forward to examine the selection of gifts. “Oh, this one looks good,” she said, reaching for a package in the middle of the pile. It was beautifully wrapped in the distinctive gold and white paper of Maxwell’s Boutique. “Maxwell’s is my favorite store,” she added smugly, ripping away the paper.

Veronica opened the white box underneath the paper and peeked inside expectantly. Then her face darkened into a frown. “What’s the big idea?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes and staring at Stevie.

“What do you mean, Veronica?” Stevie asked, playing innocent. “What did you get?”

Veronica turned the box over and dumped its contents out. Onto the floor tumbled a large, black, dirty lump of coal.

The other students burst into laughter. That made Veronica frown even harder. “You’re responsible for this little joke, aren’t you, Stevie Lake?” she demanded icily.

Stevie just grinned. “You know we’re not supposed to tell which gift we brought until the end,” she said. “But I guess this should teach you not to judge a gift by its packaging, right, Veronica?” Ignoring the other girl’s baleful glare, she turned away. “Okay, I guess I’m next, right?”

She grabbed one of the gifts from the pile and tore off the paper. Inside was a rolled-up poster. “Hey, great,” she said. “I hope it’s a …” Her voice trailed off as she unfurled the poster and saw the leaping ballerina pictured on it. “Oh, um, well, it’s very nice,” she finished lamely. Stevie was not a big ballet fan. Still, she knew that someone would probably trade with her for it—Lisa had taken ballet lessons for a few years,
and Meg Durham was still taking them. “Simon, you’re next.”

Simon Atherton peered at the pile of packages. “Gosh, this is a hard decision,” he exclaimed. “They all look so beautiful. Well, here goes.” He picked up a rectangular package wrapped in blue paper and opened it.

“What is it?” asked Stevie eagerly.

Simon held it up. It was a paperback book called
Advanced Training Methods.
“Somehow I don’t think this is the gift that was intended for me,” he joked. Simon was the newest rider in the entire class, and he certainly wasn’t ready for any advanced training.

“Don’t worry, Simon,” said Max. “I’m sure someone will want to trade you for that.” He glanced at Carole, who was staring at the book eagerly. “Who’s next? Red, I think it’s you.”

“Wait a minute,” said Simon. “I want to trade … with Stephanie.”

Stevie looked surprised. “Are you a ballet fan, Simon?” she asked.

He shrugged. “No. But my sister might like it. And
nobody
in my family is an advanced rider.”

Stevie tossed Simon the poster. “Go ahead, Red,” she urged.

Red made his selection quickly. He unwrapped a brightly wrapped package that turned out to contain a roll of 35 millimeter film and a pretty picture frame. He shrugged. “Well, I do have a camera,” he said. “At least I think I do. I haven’t used it in a while.”

“Do you want to trade with me or Simon, Red?” Stevie asked eagerly. “Oh, or with Veronica?” She knew that the game was more fun when there was lots of trading. She was also hoping that nobody would offer to trade with Veronica. She had the funniest feeling she was pretty safe in that hope.

Red shook his head. “I think I’ll stick with the film for now.”

It was Polly’s turn next. She grabbed a small, square gift wrapped in pretty floral paper and tied with a big bow. Opening the box inside, she pulled out a mug. “Hmm,” she said. “I’m not sure this gift is me.” She held up the mug so everyone could see. Printed on it was “#1 Mom.”

“Well, I guess we all know who that gift was meant for,” Carole commented with a smile. Mrs. Reg was the only mother in the room.

“I’m going to trade,” Polly announced, putting the mug back in its box. “Red, hand over that film.”

“You mean I’m the number-one Mom?” Red asked, accepting the box that Polly handed him. “I’m so touched.”

“Go ahead, Mrs. Reg, it’s your turn,” Carole said.

Mrs. Reg examined the remaining gifts for a moment and then leaned forward to pick up a flat rectangular one. Carole gasped as she recognized her gift for Joe Novick. Somehow she couldn’t picture Mrs. Reg wearing the brightly colored World Cup T-shirt.

Apparently nobody else could, either, because everyone laughed when she pulled it out of the box. “Oh, it’s lovely,” she said, holding it up against her. “But look, it’s not my size,” she added, pretending to be disappointed. “I guess I’ll have to
trade.” She glanced around the circle. Everyone waited for her to reach for the mug, but instead she nodded at Simon. “I’ll take that ballet poster, Simon,” she said, handing him the T-shirt. “I hope your sister won’t be too disappointed.”

Stevie watched as Simon took the shirt and passed the poster to Mrs. Reg. “Next—” she began, but Mrs. Reg interrupted.

“Wait a minute here,” she said. “It’s still my turn. I think I’ll make another trade. Is that allowed?”

Stevie shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” she said. “Like you said, it’s still your turn.”

“Good,” Mrs. Reg said with a smile. “Then I think I’ll take that mug. Sorry, Red. But at least you get this lovely poster in return.”

“Terrific,” Red replied, making the exchange. “I’ll have to hang this up on the door of the closet where I keep my tutu.”

“Your turn, Merrill,” Stevie said. “Go ahead, and make sure you pick something good. It’s your birthday, after all.”

Merrill picked a package that turned out to contain two pairs of brightly colored socks. One of them was black with bright green horses, and the other was hot pink with orange and purple swirls.

“Gee, I wonder who those are meant for,” Lisa commented, glancing at Betsy, who was wearing purple and yellow polka-dot socks under her sneakers.

“Do you want to trade with someone, Merrill?” Joe asked.

Merrill shook her head. “I’ll stick with the socks for now,” she replied. Lisa suspected that Merrill’s shyness prevented her from making a trade—she had been eyeing the ballet
poster admiringly—but she didn’t say anything to change her mind. There was only so much The Saddle Club could do to try to make Merrill bolder, and they had already made great progress in the last week. There was no point in embarrassing her by insisting she make a trade.

“I’m next, right?” Meg spoke up eagerly. She chose a package wrapped in shiny blue and white paper. Inside were several tubes of oil paint. Meg looked perplexed. “Paint?” she said. “Who is this for?”