Lisa (25 page)

Summer’s Approach
a haiku by Lisa Atwood

Dear Diary
,

The haiku I just copied above this entry is the one I wrote for my final creative writing assignment. It was Stevie’s idea to do a haiku—she thought it would be the shortest and easiest way to get the assignment done.

That’s not why I did it, though. When she was talking about how nice and short a haiku is—
has
to be—I was thinking about something Ms. Shields told us once. She said it’s sometimes harder to say or write a short, important thing than a long, ordinary one. I remember, because when she said it, it made me think about my letters to Peter. The parts of his letters where he says what he really feels about stuff are more meaningful than any of the other, longer stuff he writes about less important things. Also, I’ve found out how hard it is to condense everything that happens in my life into a diary or a letter or any other limited space. If I wrote about everything that happened to me (the way I thought those diary writers in that article did), I would never have time to do anything but write. So I have to decide what’s important enough to mention and what I have to skip. That makes me think a little more about everything I do.

I bet Peter is discovering the same sort of thing as he works on his screenplay. I’m sure it will be a huge challenge for him to sum up the adventures of The Saddle Club in just one movie (even though I’ve already
sort of narrowed it down for him in my letters). It makes me happier than ever that I decided not to send him Stevie’s screenplay scene a few weeks back. If he really thought we ran into grizzly bears and earthquakes and the rest of it, he might just give up on writing about us entirely!

Oops, I’m getting a little off the topic, which is my haiku assignment. I turned it in yesterday, and I haven’t been able to stop worrying about it since (except when I’ve been distracted by worrying about my parents’ weird behavior, which is more mysterious than ever). I hope Ms. Shields understands why I decided to write a haiku instead of something longer. I guess there’s no way for her to know that it probably took me just as long to get it right as it would have taken me to write an essay or something. I just hope she realizes why I chose to do it and doesn’t think it’s because of more, well,
Stevian
reasoning.

I guess it’s too late to worry about that now, though. I’ll just have to wait and see what Ms. Shields says. In the meantime, I’m starting to wonder if I should ask Mom and Dad if I can call Peter on the phone. I haven’t heard from him since I sent my comments about his screenplay scene, and I think he finishes school soon, too. I hope I wasn’t too harsh. I just told him it was mostly good and then passed on a few of the more important mistakes that Carole pointed out. She’d probably be annoyed if she knew I didn’t bother to explain to him the difference between saying
“white” and “gray.” It’s not like those Hollywood studios don’t have fact checkers for that kind of stuff, right? At least I assume they do. Anyway, as I said, I didn’t send him Stevie’s screenplay sample at all. I told her it was because he might get confused, since there are no huge mountains
or
grizzly bears in Willow Creek. She was a little insulted, I think, but luckily Veronica happened along as I was breaking the news. She said something obnoxious, which made Stevie forget all about Peter and the screenplay and everything else. I guess Veronica does have her uses after all!

Dear Diary
,

I’m stunned. That’s the only word for it. Stunned. Stunned. Stunned.

I got a nice fat letter from Peter yesterday. The top sheet was a little note saying how grateful he was for my comments on the scene he sent before. He said he got so inspired that he wrote several partial scenes, which he was enclosing.

I set aside the top sheet and started reading. I finished a few minutes ago, and I still don’t even know what to say about it. So for now, I’m just going to paste it in and let it speak for itself.

a screenplay by Peter Atwood

FADE IN:

INTERIOR a stable, twilight. Outside the high, narrow windows, the sky is red and ominous. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

PAN TO three teenage girls standing outside a stall. LILA, a lovely brunette dressed in riding breeches, is leaning against the wall. CARLA, an African American with big brown eyes, is looking into the stall. STELLA, a vivacious, fun-loving blonde in cutoff jeans, stands nearby. Inside the stall is a horse.

STELLA
Hurry up, Carla. Finish grooming Diablo so we can start the party.

LILA

(nervously)

I don’t know. What if Mr. Renney finds out? He’ll be really mad if he hears we held a party in his stable when he was out of town.

STELLA

Don’t be such a worrier, Lila. How’s he going to find out?

(giggles)

Those hot guys we met at the diner this afternoon aren’t going to tell him, that’s for sure.

CARLA

I kind of wish you hadn’t invited those guys, Stella. We don’t know anything about them. And they looked kind of unsavory, if you ask me.

CRASH OF THUNDER, closer now. The light outside has faded while they were talking, and the stable is now dimly lit by only a couple of bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. As lightning flashes, the lights flicker, then resume their yellowish glow. A gust of wind blows down the stable aisle, setting the bulbs swinging, causing grotesque shadows to dance on the walls.

CARLA

(shudders and glances around)

It’s kind of a spooky night, isn’t it?

STELLA

(grins)

That’s why we need those big strong guys to protect us. (break—remainder of scene to come)

(new scene—later in film)

CUT TO Carla, huddled in the corner of a stall. She is barely visible in the dark of the stable. A large stallion
stamps his feet nervously just in front of her. Both girl and horse are staring at the darkened stable doorway. The SOUND of something large being dragged down the aisle is audible over the howl of the storm.

CARLA

(speaks to horse in a nervous whisper)

Don’t give me away, boy. They can’t find me here.

The horse SNORTS loudly.

JAKE’s head appears in the stable doorway. Even in the dim light of the pocket flashlight he is holding, his scar gleams on his forehead and his snake tattoo is visible on his neck.

JAKE

(nastily)

What’s all the racket in here, you big stupid animal?

PAN TO Carla, still huddled in the corner, looking terrified. Jake’s eyes gleam eagerly as he spots her.

CUT TO full scene as Jake steps forward.

JAKE

(even more nastily)

Aha! What have we here?

He opens the stall door. The stallion backs away, and nothing stands between Jake and Carla but some straw.

CLOSE UP on Carla’s terrified face.

CARLA

(whimpers)

Please … don’t …

CUT TO three-quarter head-on view of Jake. The stable aisle behind him is completely dark; only his small flashlight illuminates his face.

JAKE

Heh heh heh. Time to have some fun.

There is a sudden CRASH of thunder, which sounds like it’s right on top of them. The accompanying LIGHTNING lights up the stable aisle behind Jake, and for a split second it is as bright as day. In that split second, a HOODED FIGURE dressed all in black is visible looming over Jake, holding a long set of leather reins in its gloved hands. Its face is hidden beneath the folds of its dark hood. Carla SCREAMS at the top of her lungs.

Jake is unaware of what stands behind him. The hooded figure takes a slow step forward until it is standing just behind Jake, a shadowy presence at the edge of the flashlight beam.

JAKE

(a little startled by the thunder and surprised by Carla’s scream)
Aw, come on. I only want to … AAARGH!

The rest of his comment is lost as the hooded figure swiftly loops the reins around the thug’s neck and pulls them tight. Jake’s eyes bulge out and his hands fly to his throat as he struggles to breathe, to escape.

CUT TO

CLOSE UP on Carla’s horrified face. She is paralyzed with fear as she watches what is going on, too terrified to scream again. Offscreen, the sounds of GURGLES and GASPS as Jake chokes. After a moment, lit by another flash of lightning, Carla hides her face in her hands.

PULL OUT slightly to show all of Carla. There is a final THUD, and a second later Jake’s lifeless hand flops, palm up, onto Carla’s riding boot.

There is the sound of slow, heavy FOOTSTEPS moving away in the aisle outside as Carla shudders helplessly in the stall.

A moment later, the sound of Lila’s voice from somewhere outside the stall window.

LILA

(offscreen, faraway; sounds nervous)

Carla! Stella! Where are you? Guys? This isn’t funny … (scene to be continued)

Dear Diary
,

Okay, it’s been a whole day since Peter’s screenplay arrived, and I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe this is what he got from my life story. More importantly, I can’t believe how awful it is. How could my brother write something so bad, so stupid? I don’t want myself and my friends portrayed that way, even if he didn’t use our real names. Not that anyone in Hollywood would ever be interested in such a lame screenplay anyway … or would they? I don’t know. I’ve seen actual movies that weren’t any better than this. Well, not
much
better, anyway.

But how can I tell him what I really think? He’s been working on this thing for almost a year. It’s something he really wants to do—not just for fun, but for a living. How can I tell him what I really think without hurting his feelings and totally discouraging him? And what if I do tell him the truth and he doesn’t want to write to me anymore? I don’t think I could stand that.

I really have no idea what to do …

Dear Diary
,

Great news! Actually, make that great news times three. First of all, I got an A on my haiku. Ms. Shields totally got why I did it—she didn’t think I was being lazy at all. In fact, she took me aside after class on the last day of school to tell me I ought to keep writing as much as I can. I’m definitely going to try to follow her advice, starting with this diary.

The second piece of great news isn’t quite that great, because I’m still not sure I did the right thing. But it’s great that it’s over with, anyway. I finally wrote back to Peter a couple of days ago. I didn’t really say that much about his screenplay—I just sort of praised the characterizations and the dramatic settings and a few other things, and corrected one or two minor things, like how he still has Stella wearing shorts around the stable, which she probably wouldn’t. I didn’t know what else to do. How do I even know the screenplay is even really that bad? Some people might actually like it, I guess.

On to my third piece of news, which is truly fantastic. You see, this morning when Carole arrived at Pine Hollow, she announced that she had a secret. At first I wasn’t exactly thrilled about that, mostly because my parents’ secret has been on my mind more than ever since the school year ended. But Carole’s secret turned out to be the good kind. It was a letter from Kate
Devine. Carole gave it to me to keep after she read it, so here it is:

Bar None Ranch

17 Sidewinder Drive

Hello, Saddle Club! (c/o Carole)

How are things way over there on the East Coast? Out West, things have been very interesting. Do you three remember Eli Grimes, who used to be the head wrangler here at the Bar None? If so, I’m sure you also remember Jeannie Sanders, who also worked here for a while, and how we helped set them up with each other that time when you were out here visiting … well, I guess I probably don’t have to remind you too much about that. But anyway, Jeannie ended up following Eli when he went back to college, and they finally got married this year. Don’t bother to wonder why you didn’t receive invitations to the wedding—my family didn’t, either. That’s because Jeannie and Eli eloped! Isn’t that romantic? They just decided, spur of the moment (spur—get it? Ha ha!) during a vacation they took together, that it was time to get hitched (get it?), and so they went ahead and did it.

Anyway, that’s only one of the reasons I’m writing to you now. I mean, I thought you’d be interested in hearing about their last-minute wedding, especially after what Carole told me when we talked on the phone last month—you know, about the wedding you guys threw for your friends and their horses. But I also have
some other news that also happens to involve Eli and Jeannie. I think you’re going to like it. No, scratch that. I’m sure you’re going to love it!

Eli and Jeannie have rented a ranch in Wyoming for the summer and they want to run a summer camp for kids there. Most of the kids who have signed up are younger than we are. Eli called Dad last week and asked him if he knew any riders who might like to come. He said he was hoping to find some really good riders who would both be able to have fun and to help the younger kids. He said he’s going to need a lot of help and that it will be work so he’s got to have good, reliable riders. He kept saying things like he hoped to find people with different kinds of riding skills—even English. Of course, he was just fishing. He meant me and you three. So? What do you think? It’s for three weeks. It would be pretty hard work because it’s not just a ranch, it’s a farm, too, so we’d be kind of living off the land. Dad says I can go. He says we can even pick you guys up in the plane—and bring you home again. We’ll come get you. Just give the word!

Your excited friend
,
Kate

Dear Diary
,

I’ve spent the past hour since I pasted Kate’s letter in here trying to figure out the best way to ask my parents about the trip to Wyoming. They’ll both be home from work soon, and I’m so nervous I can hardly stand it. They have to say yes! Kate sent a brochure from Eli and Jeannie’s ranch, which is called High Meadow,
and it looks absolutely fantastic. There were photos of breathtakingly beautiful scenery on the edge of the Rocky Mountains. It looks like the ranch itself is nestled in a gorgeous valley. I wish I could paste the brochure in here, but unfortunately Stevie managed to drop it in the manure pile while she was mucking out Topside’s stall, so we didn’t have much choice but to throw it away. We didn’t really mind all that much, though, since we’ll get to see the real thing in person soon. At least I hope we will … Mom and Dad have to let me go! I think I know just the way to approach the whole question. I’ll wait until dinner starts, after they’ve each started to relax. The strongest point I’ll need to make is that Eli is expecting us to work. It will really be more of a summer job than a summer vacation—he’ll be counting on our expertise around the barn and our riding skills, and he’ll want us to help a lot with the younger kids as well as with the general work. Maybe I’ll even comment how great a job like that will look on my college applications someday. Mom and Dad should love that. I’m sure they—