Driving Team (9 page)

The girls walked on. Suddenly Lisa stopped. “Look!” she cried. “In the BonTon gift shop!”

“Cynthia’s mother?” Carole’s eyes were wide with excitement.

“No,” said Lisa. “But I could have sworn it was Stevie!”

“In the BonTon gift shop?” Carole frowned. “Stevie barely has enough money to buy ice cream at TD’s. There’s no way she could afford anything at BonTon.”

“I know, but it looked just like her,” Lisa insisted.

“Well, let’s go see,” said Carole. “If we can find Stevie in an expensive gift shop, we can find anyone anywhere.”

S
TEVIE LOOKED UP
in surprise from the glittering display she had been examining. “Lisa!” she cried. “Carole! I thought you guys were at the library.”

“We were, until lunchtime. Then Lisa’s mom brought us over here,” explained Carole. She looked at the display in front of Stevie. All sorts of beautiful little china figurines gleamed down from the shelves. “How come you’re here looking at little china animals?”

“Little
expensive
china animals?” Lisa added, checking the price tag on one tiny peacock.

“You won’t believe me.” Stevie put the white china dog she’d been considering back on the shelf. “Not in a million years.”

“Try us,” said Carole. “After our adventures in the library, we’d probably believe anything.”

“You know how Veronica’s been even meaner and nastier than her usual mean and nasty self lately?”

Lisa and Carole nodded.

“Well, there’s actually a good reason for it,” Stevie said.

“Of course there is,” answered Lisa. “She’s genetically programmed to be a thoroughly rotten human being. She can’t help it.”

“No, listen,” Stevie said, her hazel eyes serious. “Veronica’s dog, Robespierre, is really sick. She’s gotten three calls about him since we’ve been working on the team driving project. Two were from her mother, I think, but the other was from Doc Tock herself.”

“Doc Tock called?” The smile faded from Carole’s face. “Then it really must be serious.”

Stevie nodded. “She doesn’t know if the dog is going to make it or not. Veronica’s really upset. She actually cried this morning.”

“Veronica diAngelo?” Lisa asked in amazement. “Cried real tears?”

“She hugged Danny’s neck in the paddock and cried,” Stevie reported. “I feel so sorry for her, I just want to do something to make her feel better. After I finished up at the stable, I took the bus out here. I
thought maybe a china dog that looked like Robespierre might cheer her up.” Stevie touched the little dog she’d just been looking at. “This one’s perfect, but it costs about three times more than I’ve got to spend.”

“That’s terrible about her dog,” said Carole. “I know how awful I would feel if anything happened to my cat, Snowball.”

Lisa looked sad, too. “I don’t know what I would do if our dog, Dolly, got sick.”

“I think anyone who loves horses can sympathize when something bad happens to any kind of animal.” Tears brimmed in Stevie’s eyes. “I just wish I could buy this and make Veronica feel better.”

“If you think that little china dog will make Veronica feel better about Robespierre, then maybe we should all pitch in and buy it,” Carole said.

Lisa’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “Buy Veronica diAngelo a gift? Guys, she’s barely civil to us. She’s never been nice at all, and she’s always getting us into trouble. Plus, that dog costs as much as a whole month of sundaes at TD’s.”

“I know it’s not logical,” Carole admitted. “But these are not logical circumstances.”

“Right,” agreed Stevie. “Normally we wouldn’t dream of buying Veronica anything, but normally her dog isn’t dying.”

“Well, I guess I can relate to that,” Lisa said. “Count me in. Why don’t we make it a joint gift from The Saddle Club?”

“Great idea!” Stevie gently lifted the little dog from the shelf and carefully took it over to the checkout counter.

They pooled their money and paid for the dog, and, after the clerk had gift-wrapped it in the gift shop’s famous silver wrapping paper, they returned to the throng of shoppers in the mall.

“Okay,” said Stevie, holding Veronica’s gift tightly under her arm. “Now tell me why you guys are here and not at the library.”

“We’re looking for women with red pocketbooks over their right shoulders,” said Lisa.

Stevie frowned. “Huh?”

“Red pocketbooks,” repeated Carole. “Stevie, you wouldn’t believe this little girl we met at the library.” The three girls sat down on a bench, and Carole and Lisa filled Stevie in on Cynthia. They told her how Cynthia’s mother left her at the library almost every day; how Mrs. Davidson was nice to them but threatened to throw Cynthia out into the cold November rain; and how for the past two days they’d done nothing but read
Misty
to Cynthia and try to keep Mrs. Davidson from finding out.

“Wow,” said Stevie. “No wonder you’re looking for
her mother. How on earth are you going to get your report done for Max if you don’t find her?”

“I don’t know,” said Lisa. “And I’m beginning to get really nervous about it. We don’t have a lot of time left.”

“Well then, let’s split up and look for her. Three heads are always better than two,” Stevie said, glancing around the mall. “Let’s meet over by that security desk in half an hour. Surely among the three of us we can find her.”

Carole smiled. “That sounds like a good idea to me.”

They split up. Stevie took the two large department stores at either end of the mall; Lisa took the smaller stores on one side of the mall, and Carole the stores on the other side. A half hour later they met near the security desk.

“Any luck?” said Carole, out of breath.

“No.” Lisa shook her head. “Everybody I saw was either too young or too old. How about you?”

“I saw one woman the right age, but she had another little child with her. Unless Cynthia’s got a mystery twin, it wasn’t her.”

Both girls turned to Stevie. “Well?”

“I saw one woman who thought I wanted to kidnap her child, another one thought I was trying to shoplift a toaster, and another woman almost banged me on the head with her big red purse because she thought I was
trying to steal it.” Stevie sighed. “There are some pretty weird women with red purses running around this mall!”

Carole laughed at Stevie’s efforts, but she was still concerned about the little girl. “I don’t know what to do now,” she said sadly.

For a moment all three girls just sat there, staring at the flashing red light above the security station. Then Stevie snapped her fingers. “I know!” she said.

“What?” said Lisa and Carole.

“One of us can go up to the security desk here and tell the guard that her name is Cynthia and she’s lost her mother. The security guard will announce it over the public-address system!”

“Won’t they ask for a last name?” said Lisa. “That’s one thing we don’t know about Cynthia.”

“Say it’s too hard to pronounce,” Stevie replied. “Have them say, ‘Would a woman carrying a large red pocketbook please report to the security station? Your daughter Cynthia is lost.’ ”

“Wait,” said Carole. “Cynthia might already be here with her mother this afternoon. She said her mother might come back and pick her up early.”

“Well, if her mother stashes her at the library, she could easily stash her in some toy store here.” Stevie shrugged. “It’s a possibility, anyway.”

Lisa and Carole looked at each other, knowing that
this plan had Stevie’s fingerprints all over it, which meant it could end in disaster. But neither of them could think of anything else to do, and they both wanted to help the little girl.

“Well, okay,” said Carole. “Who’s going to be Cynthia?”

“I vote for Lisa,” Stevie said. “She’s the most logical, and the woman who thought I was after the toaster may have already described me to security!”

“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Don’t worry,” said Stevie. “Carole and I will be close by, and if anything goes wrong, we’ll create a diversion.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Lisa rolled her eyes. She looked at Carole and sighed. “Well, okay. Here goes nothing.”

Stevie and Carole watched as Lisa walked over to the security station. She talked to a lady in a blue uniform for a moment; then suddenly the bouncy mall music stopped and a voice blared over the speakers.

“Shoppers, could I have your attention, please? Would a woman carrying a red pocketbook please come to the central security station? Your daughter Cynthia is here waiting for you.”

Stevie gave Carole a high five. “It worked!” she crowed. “Lisa’s a genius!”

“Right,” agreed Carole. “Now let’s just see who comes to get little Cynthia.”

The girls sat and watched. It seemed as if hundreds of shoppers passed by, but not one person with a red pocketbook stopped at the security station. Suddenly Stevie jumped up.

“What is it?” asked Carole.

“It’s Mrs. Atwood,” replied Stevie. “Dead ahead!”

“Lisa?” Already they could hear Mrs. Atwood’s confused voice. “Why are you talking to the security guard? Has there been some kind of problem?”

“Uh, no, Mom,” Lisa’s face turned red. “I just got separated from you.”

“Are you Cynthia’s mother?” The guard looked down at Mrs. Atwood.

“Cynthia?” Mrs. Atwood frowned.

“Look!” Stevie shrieked. “There’s Cynthia!” She and Carole ran over and hugged Lisa as if they hadn’t seen her in years.

“Cynthia?” Mrs. Atwood repeated. “You mean Lisa? Stevie? What are you doing here? And what is going on?”

“Lisa?” said the security guard, now puzzled as well.

“Yes,” said Stevie, still clinging to Lisa and ignoring Mrs. Atwood. “Cynthia Lisa. Everybody calls her Cynthia except her friends and her mother. We call her Lisa. Cynthia L. Atwood.”

“But I thought you said your last name was unpronounceable.” The guard frowned.

“It is, it is,” said Stevie. “We just call her Atwood because it’s easy to remember.”

“Now, wait just a minute—” began the guard.

“Look!” cried Carole. “There’s that blouse I’ve been dying to look at. Let’s go grab it before someone else buys it! Come on, Mrs. Baghdahnoviztzchki … er, Atwood, you come, too!”

Stevie, Carole, and Lisa headed quickly over to the blouse. Mrs. Atwood shrugged at the security guard. “Thanks,” she said, scratching her head. “I’m not sure what for, but thanks just the same.”

“Not a problem,” the guard said, looking at the three girls and shaking her head.

By the time Mrs. Atwood reached the blouse display, the girls had decided it wasn’t the right color for Carole.

“Anybody want to shop for anything else while we’re here?” asked Mrs. Atwood, still puzzled over the scene with the security guard.

“Not me,” said Carole.

“Me either,” said Stevie. “I’m really broke now.”

“Well, then let’s just go home,” said Mrs. Atwood. “Stevie, I’ll give you a ride if you’d like. I have to say, girls, this is the strangest shopping trip I’ve ever made.”

They trooped back to Mrs. Atwood’s car. The three girls sat in the back, dying to talk about little Cynthia but not daring to in front of Mrs. Atwood. Finally Stevie broke the awkward silence.

“I’m really glad we bought that dog for Veronica,” she said. “But I think I’ll wait until the day of the demonstration to give it to her.”

“How come?” said Lisa. “I mean, why not sooner?”

“I don’t know,” replied Stevie. “It seems like Robespierre will either have recovered or not by then. If he’s better, then the little china dog will be like a celebration. If he’s not, well, then at least it will be something to remember him by.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Carole.

“Yes, it is,” Lisa agreed. “She’ll really appreciate it then, one way or the other.”

Carole frowned. “In the meantime, though, Stevie, if she’s so upset about her dog, how are you going to manage the driving demonstration with her?”

“Oh, it won’t be a problem,” Stevie said confidently. “She’s really pretty cooperative once you get past that hard armor she seems to always wear.”

“Veronica?” Lisa said. “Cooperative?”

Stevie nodded. “We had a super-long talk the other day. I think we finally found common ground.”

She settled back in the seat and smiled while Carole and Lisa looked at each other, both of them raising their eyebrows in doubt. They’d never known Veronica to work on common ground with anyone.