The Sea Pony Page 3
Guess what we had for supper that night? Cinnamon snakes! Mom and I made them for everyone, and I didn’t even have to punch the butter this time. It turns out that after you put the butter and sugar and cinnamon on the bread, you stick the whole thing in the toaster oven to melt it. It would have been a perfect supper, except that Mom also made me cut up carrot sticks for a side dish.
While we ate, Dad and I told everyone all about Scoot and my whistle and the missing skiff.
“Cool bosun’s whistle,” Erik said. He had just finished his fifth cinnamon snake, and he was already looking healthier.
“It’s not a bosun’s whistle,” I told him. “It’s a sea pony whistle.”
“What’s a sea pony?” asked Leo.
“Scoot’s a sea pony,” I told him. “Because I’m going to train him to give me rides on his back.”
Everyone got quiet. Mom and Dad slid their eyeballs to each other, which is what they do when they are both thinking something they don’t want to say out loud.
Leo picked up Harold, who was stuck to the table next to him.
Harold is a yellow Post-it note.
Leo held Harold up to his ear for a minute.
“Harold says that you can’t train a seal to be a pony,” Leo told me. “He says it’s impossible.”
“It’s not impossible,” I said, “because Scoot is very intelligent. And, FYI, Harold is a slob, because there is tomato sauce all over his face.”
Leo licked his finger and tried to rub the tomato sauce splotches off Harold, but it only turned them into spitty pink smudges.
“Remember, Scoot’s a wild animal, Piper,” Mom said.
“I know that,” I said. “But whenever I blow my whistle, Scoot comes to me. The whistle is so loud, Scoot could hear it even if he was way out at sea. Listen.”
I picked up the whistle from my neck and took a big breath. Then I gave the loudest blow I could.
PHWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!
Everybody squinched up their faces.
I took the whistle out of my mouth and said, “See what I mean?”
Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
Everyone’s eyes got wide. Mine included.
Then Leo leaned over and whispered to Harold, “If that’s the sea pony, I am going to freak out.”
I jumped out of my chair, ran to the door, and flung it open.
“Whoa!” I said under my breath.
A huge, hairy head ducked down and poked its nose through the door. Its nostrils blew out a puff of warm air right in my face.
“A pony! A really real pony!” I said.
I put out my hand and petted its silky mane. The pony made a little snuffling sound.
Then I had a crazy thought.
“Wait a minute. Are you Scoot?” I asked it. I looked carefully into the pony’s big brown eyes. “Did you turn into a real pony?”
“Helloooo down there!” said a voice.
“Wait…can you talk?” I whispered in shock to the pony. “Because that would be awesome!”
“Anyone care for a ride?” the voice asked.
“That sounds like Nora Bean,” Mom said. She, Dad, Erik, and Leo had come up behind me to see who was at the door.
The horse took a few steps backward. Now I could see that it was Nora Bean, the lady who owns Mrs. Snortingham. She was sitting on the horse and smiling down at me.
“That’s the horse from the ferry!” I cried out. “The horse belongs to you?”
“That’s right,” said Nora Bean. “Her name’s Lola. And as horses go, she’s the finest kind.” Nora Bean patted Lola’s neck. “Your dad said you might be interested in some riding lessons, Piper.”
“Really?” I looked at Dad.
“It would have cost me a pretty penny to replace that skiff,” Dad said. “Since you were the one who found it, Piper, I figured you ought to get a reward. I’m trading Nora Bean two lobsters for each riding lesson.”
“The lobsters aren’t for me,” Nora Bean said. “Frankly, I don’t even like lobster. They’re for Mrs. Snortingham. She’s just crazy for lobster.”
“Thank you, thank you!” I said to Dad. I threw my arms around him, and he squeezed me back.
“First lesson starts now,” said Nora Bean.
We all went outside. Nora Bean hopped off the saddle. She shortened the stirrups so my feet could fit into them. Then she helped me up onto Lola’s back.
I felt like a giant up there!
“Did you know that the top of your head is shaped like a sweet potato, Dad?” I said.
“I do now,” Dad said.
“I’ll lead Lola with the reins, Piper,” said Nora Bean, “and you hold on to her mane. Go ahead. She won’t mind.”
I grabbed some of Lola’s mane. I was careful not to pull, though, because I hate it when Mom yanks too hard on my hair when she puts it in a ponytail.
Nora Bean led Lola back down our front path. Clackety-clackety-clackety. I rocked from side to side. It felt like keeping your balance on a lobster boat when the water is choppy, which I am a professional at.
I thought about what it would be like to ride on Scoot. The ocean would be pretty cold. And Scoot’s back looked slippery. Maybe he made a better seal than a sea pony. Next time I was sternman, I’d save the biggest fish in the bait barrel for him. I bet Dad wouldn’t even get mad about that.
At the end of the yard, we turned onto the road. We walked right by the Fairy Tree. I almost whistled, “Thank you, fairies!” but then I remembered that whistles make horses jumpy. So I gave the Fairy Tree a thumbs-up instead.
“Hey, Nora Bean?” I called down to her. “Can we swing by Allie O’Malley’s house? I want her to see this.”
“I think we can manage that,” said Nora Bean.
“Good,” I said. “And then after that I want to ride by Jacob’s house, because I am going to amaze that boy.”
Then I let go of Lola’s mane and held my hands way up in the air.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Although she doesn’t ride a lobster boat to work, Ellen Potter can look out her window and see islands, just like the one Piper lives on. Ellen is the author of many books for children, including the award-winning Olivia Kidney series. She lives in Maine with her family and an assortment of badly behaved creatures. Learn more about Ellen at ellenpotter.com.
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
Qin Leng was born in Shanghai and lived in France and Montreal, where she studied at the Mel Hoppenheim School of Cinema. She has received many awards for her animated short films and artwork, and has published numerous picture books. Qin currently lives and works as a designer and illustrator in Toronto.
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