Summer Rider by Bonnie Bryant Page B

riding practice and everything. We’re just worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard. Camp is supposed to be fun.”
    “You don’t have to worry about me,” Lisa said. “I like hard work. I’m having a great time at camp. Everything is fine.”
    Carole wasn’t sure what to think. She wanted to believe what Lisa was saying. After all, the members of didn’t lie to each other. It wasn’t exactly anofficial rule, but it was something Carole had always taken for granted. That was why she didn’t like her present suspicion—because it was telling her that Lisa was lying.
    Before she could explore that thought any further, a group of teenage girls wandered around the corner and headed for them.
    “Hey, there they are!” cried one of the girls. She hurried toward Carole and Lisa. “We heard you’re raising money to save the riding camp.”
    “That’s right,” Carole said and launched into her spiel, pushing her concern about Lisa to the back of her mind. It was too hard to think seriously about the problem and look for sponsors at the same time. Carole was almost glad there was only one more week of camp. Maybe once they were home, Lisa would go back to normal.
    L ATER THAT EVENING , back at camp, Stevie and Phil set off hand in hand for a romantic stroll down to the pond, just like the day they had met. Unlike that first night, this night a full moon illuminated the paths for them, casting a romantic silvery glow over everything and making flash-lights unnecessary.
    “This is nice,” Phil said as they picked their way carefully over the narrow, rocky path.
    Stevie didn’t answer.
    “Stevie?” Phil prompted. “Did you hear me? I said, this is nice.”
    “Oh, right,” Stevie said. “Sorry. I was just thinkingabout something else. I was wondering if I should have started off our speech today by suggesting that people donate three dollars a fence. I don’t know about you, but most of the people I talked to didn’t pledge anywhere near that much.”
    Phil shrugged. “Who knows? It’s too late now.” As they reached the edge of the pond, he dropped her hand and put his arm around her. “Aren’t there other things you’d rather think about right now, anyway?” he added softly.
    Stevie nodded and tipped her head up to gaze into his eyes. “I wonder if we could convince the cook to bake some cookies before the show?” she murmured. “We could sell them to the spectators. I have a feeling we’re going to have a big crowd this year.”
    “Whatever,” Phil said. “Did I ever tell you your hair looks really pretty in the moonlight?”
    “No, I don’t think so,” she said distractedly. She pulled away from his embrace and fished in her pocket for her calculator. “Let’s see, if we charged fifty cents per cookie … um …” She hunched over the calculator and punched in some numbers, squinting to see the readout in the dim light.
    Phil sighed and sat down on a boulder. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was abducted by space aliens?” he said.
    “Hmm? Oh, that’s nice,” Stevie muttered, still punching in numbers. Then she reached into her pocket again and pulled out a folded sheet of paper she had torn out ofher notebook. She scanned it and then returned to her calculator. “I can’t believe it,” she cried a moment later. “Even with all the sponsors we’ve gotten so far, we’re still way short of what we need. And that’s assuming no one misses a single fence.”
    Phil got up and came over to her. “Do you have to do that now?” he asked. He caressed her cheek gently. “I was hoping we could just forget about it and have a nice, romantic evening.”
    “Well, maybe…,” she said, closing her eyes as Phil moved in for a kiss. But just as his lips grazed hers, her eyes flew open. “I’m sorry,” she said, moving away from him and raising her calculator again. “I can’t stop thinking about the fund-raiser. We just don’t have enough money pledged yet. And if