Fred watched Tilda with great interest. When he heard her lift the lid of the Woof Woof Wafer jar, he pulled toward the kitchen, but this time the boy let go of the leash.
Daniel squatted until his face was in front of the terrarium. “Hi, Snail,” he said. “You look like Snappy.”
Snail’s antennas moved, and Daniel knew she’d heard him. “You know what, Snail?” he whispered. “Sometimes I’m still scared.”
Tilda Butter walked out of the kitchen with a Woof Woof Wafer. She snapped it in half and offered one to Fred. “Here’s the deposit. Go for a walk, and you’ll earn the second half.” She gave the remaining piece to Daniel.
Fred made a small sound like a mouse squeak. This was not the usual deal.
Daniel took full advantage now that Fred was standing. He grabbed hold of the leash, turned around, and headed toward the door with the second half of the wafer tucked in his pocket. He opened the door to leave with Fred, but not before saying, “Bye, Snail!”
“Remember what I told you,” Tilda Butter said before the door closed.
Great things can happen when you put a dog and a boy together. They can have adventures. Daniel felt like he was a detective heading on his way to solve a mystery, or maybe a pirate with his first mate, or an explorer with an elephant comrade.
Until he heard “Yoo-hoo! Don’t forget Freddie’s bag, in case he does his business.”
Daniel ignored her. He had somewhere to go, and he was already late. He heard Tilda Butter’s shoes clicking on the sidewalk behind him. He walked a little faster, and because he had the Woof Woof Wafer in his pocket, Fred sped up, too.
“Daniel, stop!” Tilda Butter hollered.
From somewhere nearby a horn played out one long note. It seemed to be coming from Agatha Brown’s house.
Daniel halted and swung around.
Tilda Butter was bent over, trying to catch her breath.
“What was that?” he asked.
“A saxophone, I think,” Tilda said. Then Agatha Brown’s window slammed shut.
“Hey, how do you know my name?” he asked.
Tilda Butter straightened. “Do you think I would let you walk my dog when I didn’t even know your name?”
“But how did ya?”
“I guess I’m magic,” she said. “So only walk Fred around the block, or I will turn you into a tulip bulb and plant you in my garden.”
“Really?” Daniel was impressed. He moved toward her.
“Or a cat. Fred doesn’t like cats.”
“How about a horse? I’d love to be a horse.”
She handed the bag to him and said, “Just get Fred back safely.”
Daniel took the bag, and off he went with Fred. Was Tilda Butter magic? Did she really talk to snails, lizards, and snakes? Did they talk to her? Maybe she would turn him into a horse when he brought Fred back. Plus she would be so excited when he told her the good news about Fred being Nana in the play. But first he had to get to school.
* * *
FRED APPRECIATED the small things in life, like ants that gathered on the sidewalk where someone had dripped ice cream. And that meant he quit walking and watched.
“What are you stopping for, buddy? Do you need to do your business?” Daniel waited with the bag open.
But Fred just poked his nose at the ants.
This wasn’t working as smoothly as Daniel had hoped. He patted his pocket.
“Remember the Woof Woof Wafer, Fred.”
And at the mention of that, Fred lost interest in the ants, sat up straight, and barked.
Daniel was in charge again! They passed yard after yard, but to Daniel they were traveling across oceans and passing ships. He was a spy, after all. He noticed everything. They passed the lemonade stand, where a new sign stated OPENING SOON, BUY A LEMONADE AND SAVE THE MONARCH BUTTERFLY.
The porch light hanging loose from a house was a telescope from an enemy ship. A moment later, Daniel got on all fours and crawled next to Fred, who stopped and gave him a good sniff over.
“You must smell your reward,” Daniel said. “You’ll get that at the end of the walk.”
Daniel had almost forgotten where they were going. He stood and took off. “Come on, Fred! They’re after us.”
No reason they couldn’t have fun getting there.
Daniel sprinted, and Fred waddled as quickly as possible. He couldn’t let his Woof Woof Wafer get away. When they made it to the corner, Daniel stopped for a quick break.
Fred flopped, but the boy wouldn’t let him rest. They were off again.
A sprinkler system was spitting water on a yard, and Daniel led Fred zigzagging through the water. “Wow, that was close!”
The boy was so quick, he managed to only get a few sprinkles on his head, but Fred’s timing was not so lucky. A big spurt of water had splashed him, soaking Fred from ear to tail. He tried to get in a good shake, but the boy hurried on.
* * *
DANIEL WAS IN A HURRY. He had to make it to another rehearsal of Peter Pan. Thank goodness the school was around the block. He turned and passed the library, but stopped to watch the kids on the Ferris wheel. Most of them were reading books. That’s dumb, he thought.
A skinny guy with a newsboy cap was attending the ride. “Wanna spin?” he asked. “Your dog can ride, too.”
“Nah,” Daniel said, “I’ve got to go somewhere.”
He started to leave, then asked, “Hey, why do all those people read books on the Ferris wheel?”
“Why not?” the guy said. “It’s as good a place as any.”
Daniel left him, but he still thought it was dumb. Soon he was opening the front door to the school and making his way down the main hall toward the auditorium.
Fred left a trail of wet paw prints on the shiny floors. He needed to shake something bad, but the boy was walking so fast he could hardly keep up, let alone shake.
When they got to the auditorium, some of the other kids were already onstage. Mrs. Garcia sat in the front row with her back to Daniel and Fred. The boy playing Peter and the girl playing Wendy were saying their lines, but quit in mid-sentence when they saw Daniel and Fred entering the room. Wendy put her hand over her mouth, and Peter Pan laughed and pointed at Daniel.
Mrs. Garcia turned around. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
“I found a Nana for you,” Daniel announced. “His name is Fred.”
Mrs. Garcia got up and walked toward him. She took a deep breath and said, “Daniel, we have a Nana.”
“Yeah,” said a girl, pulling off a mop-string dog head and bonnet. Bobby pins flattened her black curls against her scalp. It was the Lemonade Girl. “I’m Nana!”
Then a taller girl said, “And I am, too!” She was wearing a pair of shaggy pants with a long tail.
Mrs. Garcia stepped closer to Daniel and lowered her voice. But she spoke firmly. “Dogs are not allowed at rehearsals.”
As soon as she said that, Daniel lowered the leash and dropped it.
Have you ever had an itch that you just had to scratch? That’s what it was like for Fred, who needed to shake himself dry. And that is exactly what he did.
He shook. And shook. He splattered Daniel, who didn’t mind at all. He splattered Mrs. Garcia, who did.
“Take the dog home!” she said, wiping her eyeglasses with her sleeve. “Then come back here as soon as possible if you still want to be in the play.”
Every person onstage was staring in his direction. The Lemonade Girl looked away like she was embarrassed for him. A big lump was stuck in his throat. He turned and led Fred out of the school and started the journey back to the yellow cottage.
He wondered why Mrs. Garcia couldn’t see what a fine Nana Fred could be. Those two girls didn’t look like a dog. If Fred could have gotten the part in the play, he could have told his dad that he was the reason Nana was a real dog. But now that wasn’t going to happen. He wished he’d been Curly. Strep throat was spreading around school. Maybe Leonard, the kid who was playing
Curly, would get strep throat and Mrs. Garcia would ask Daniel to play the role.
When they made the corner onto While-a-Way Lane, a strong barbecue aroma drifted out to the sidewalk. Daniel’s and Fred’s noses raised, taking in a big whiff. Daniel noticed the smoke coming from some ribs on a grill in one of the yards they were approaching. No one was out there, and for a moment, Daniel could imagine his dad flipping burgers. He did it every Fourth of July. His mom would spread a tablecloth on the grass, and they would have a picnic. He got so caught up in that memory that he loosened his grip on the leash and let go.
Fred bolted.
You know where. Toward the scent that was tantalizing his nose, making his mouth salivate, causing his stomach to rumble—the ribs.
“Scitter bum!” Daniel yelled. Then he sprinted after Fred.
It was too late.
Fred seized the ribs with his teeth, pulled them off the grill, and headed down While-a-Way Lane. The ribs flopped like the wings of a bird trying to take off, but they weren’t getting away from Fred. The dog who could hardly keep up earlier was running the race of his life, dragging his leash behind him. He cut through two yards and their water sprinklers, getting drenched all over again. Nothing could stop him.
Daniel was yards away. Tilda Butter stood out front, watering her lilac bush, when Fred met her with his prize. “Goodness pudding, Fred! What do you have—”
To Fred’s delight, Tilda dropped the hose, rushed over to the front door, and opened it.
Daniel saw her take a quick look around as if to make sure no one had noticed the crime. Then she followed Fred and slammed the door behind her.
Fred rushed past her into the house, stopped, and shook his body, splashing her and making puddles on the floor. Then he took his dinner to his favorite spot in front of the terrarium and watched Snail as he began to chow down on the ribs.
When Daniel finally reached Tilda Butter’s cottage, he was out of breath. He thought about returning to school, but he didn’t want to miss this chance to be something special. Something to impress his dad when he visited. He knocked on the door.
Tilda Butter opened it. She did not look happy. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
She did not sound happy either, but Daniel asked anyway.
“Can you really turn me into a horse?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TILDA REMEMBERS
“TURN HIM INTO A HORSE! Silly boy. Who does he think I am? A fairy godmother?” Tilda was not in a good mood. Fred was wet and smelly as an old mop. She had not given Daniel a chance to explain before saying goodbye and closing the door on him.
“The boy is scared,” said Snail.
“How do you know?” asked Tilda.
“He told me.”
Tilda thought about that the rest of the day. She got so consumed thinking about it, she washed every dish in her sink, did three loads of laundry, and much to Snail’s delight, dropped a whole head of lettuce into the terrarium.
She even forgot that she needed to dig up her hosta. The Falling Star Valley Garden Show was soon. But her mind was on just Daniel. Yes, he was a peculiar boy, but he had heart. She knew this the moment she saw him trying to fix the broken irises.
When she remembered the hosta, she stepped out back to the oak tree with her shovel and the blue pot she had finally decided on. Somehow the hope of winning and riding on the float didn’t seem that important now. She left the hosta in the ground until the day of the show.
There was a rustling sound at her feet.
“The boy’sss mother doesssn’t get home until dinner.” Isadora was coiled up, shading herself under one of the prized hosta’s leaves. This time Tilda did not startle because she had been in such deep thought about Daniel that it seemed Isadora had slid into her mind.
“That must make for one lonely boy,” Tilda said. She knew what that was like. She reached way back and remembered how even after Aunt Sippy welcomed her, it had been a scary time not knowing what was ahead.
Tilda remembered her first night, when she rode her little scooter down the street. She’d pushed off with one foot and made her way down the lane, passing cottage after cottage until she discovered the pond.
And then it happened. Something she had forgotten because it was so long ago. The fireflies!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE LEMONADE GIRL
DANIEL RUSHED BACK to the school auditorium for the remainder of the rehearsal. He tried to forget about how Fred would have been a great Nana, how he was only Lost Boy #8, and whether or not to invite his mom and dad.
Most of the rehearsal he sat backstage waiting for the moment when Mrs. Garcia would announce, “Scene with lost boys!” And then when she finally did, it didn’t change the way he felt, because he didn’t have any lines.
While Peter Pan and Captain Hook said theirs, he gazed around the stage until he noticed a stack of crates. They were part of the scenery, but no one was using them. What a waste! Someone should climb on top of them and jump. Suddenly he knew who that someone should be. Lost Boy #8!
He was standing at the back of the set, but he inched his way until he was close enough for his fingertips to reach the crates. His feet began to prickle. They were getting ready to make the climb when Mrs. Garcia said, “Lost Boy #8, you need to return to your spot.”
Daniel couldn’t understand how she, the director, could miss such a great opportunity. If he hadn’t had a bad morning with the whole Fred episode, he would have spoken up and suggested it. Instead, he did what Mrs. Garcia told him to do and went back to his space, thinking about all the things that wouldn’t happen that could have. He would just wait until the performance to make the jump. He got so excited about the idea. An idea that was special. Special enough for his dad to see the Champ do.
After rehearsal, the kids hurried out of the auditorium and exited the school. Some crawled into cars while others raced toward home. Daniel was in a hurry, too. He wanted to invite his dad to the play before his mom got home.
His mom wouldn’t be home for another hour. She promised him this was the only Saturday she’d work but she had to go to orientation to learn about the new company she was working for. He wondered what her new job was, anyway. Then he remembered she’d told him, but he hadn’t been listening.
She’d left out a movie and told him he could have all the microwave popcorn he wanted as long as he saved room for the lunch she’d made ahead for him. He sure hoped she wouldn’t quiz him about the movie. Maybe if he hurried, he could watch part of it before calling his dad. He ran past the library and didn’t even bother to look up to see who was on the Ferris wheel. He sprinted until he made it around the corner to While-a-Way Lane.
There, a few yards in front of him, was the Lemonade Girl. He’d heard Mrs. Garcia call her Annie. She walked slowly, and so he slowed his pace. When she stopped, he did too.
Annie pulled a magnifying glass from her backpack and examined something in the grass. Daniel almost rushed up to her to ask if he could see, but he remembered how upset she’d been with him earlier. He guessed he couldn’t blame her since he wanted Fred to take her part. Daniel forgot all about racing home and hung behind, waiting to see what she did next.
She took her time. Finally she tucked the magnifying glass into her backpack and picked up her pace, not stopping until she came to the lemonade stand. When she did, she reached under the table and pulled out a piece of cardboard and a marker.
Now Daniel had no choice but to pass her.
Or maybe he would stop.
He decided to stop.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked.
Annie didn’t look up from her writing. “No.”
She said it like she was a little mad. And how did she know it was him, anyway? She must have known he was behind her the whole time.
“What are you writing?” he asked.
She finished the sign, then turned it around for him to read.
DUE TO A THEATRICAL PERFORMANCE,
THE LEMONADE STAND WILL BE CLOSED UNTIL NEXT WEEKEND.
He read the other sign that she was replacing. He’d seen it before. BUY A LEMONADE. SAVE THE MONARCH BUTTERFLIES.
“What’s wrong with the monarch butterflies?”
“They’re endangered.” Annie reached down into the box under the table and pulled out a stack of signs. She flashed the cards in front of him. “And so are the bumblebee, gorilla, hummingbird, red wolf, and…”
On and on she went, flipping the cards, spouting off animals and insects, some he’d never heard of.
The Lemonade Girl was going to save the world, one lemonade at a time.
She was smart. Daniel could plainly see that. She had big plans, bigger than any of his.
“How do you know all of that?” he asked.
Annie raised her eyebrows. “I’ve read about it. It’s easy to find out stuff when you really want to know.”
He thought of telling her about the fireflies, but decided not to. She might make it sound like it wasn’t that special, and it had been. Meeting the fireflies had been the most special thing that had happened to him since he moved to While-a-Way Lane. It had been the only special thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE FIREFLIES
MANY YEARS BEFORE Daniel had ever heard of While-a-Way Lane, long before he was born, the fireflies had made young Tilda feel special, too.
Tilda was scared the day she watched her parents walk away from the yellow cottage. She stared at their backs, wondering what life would be like without seeing her mother practicing her bows and throwing kisses to the mirror. Or how she could spend an afternoon without hearing her father rehearse songs in his deep baritone voice while he stood in front of the parlor’s open window. His daily ritual caused every neighbor to slam their windows shut, but that didn’t stop him. Her father seemed quite pleased with the quality of his voice, always ending each session with “Bravo, good chap!”
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