Dog Days

by Karen English

  Gavin’s dad turns to Richard. “How do you figure into this?”

  “Me?” Richard’s eyes widen. He turns to Gavin.

  Gavin looks down and mumbles, “I told Richard that Danielle keeps some candy under her bed. And I asked him if he wanted a piece. He said, ‘Yeah,’ so we went in there just to get one piece each, and—”

  “Did you ask Danielle?” Gavin’s father asks.

  “I couldn’t, because Danielle was across the street.” Gavin looks to Richard, and Richard nods his head.

  “So you thought it was okay to just go in there and take some candy anyway.”

  Danielle glances from Gavin to Richard and gives them a smile that seems more like a sneer.

  “I’m really disappointed in you, Gavin. First, you set out to do something wrong, and then you involved your company.”

  Richard looks down as if he’s an innocent victim of Gavin’s as well.

  “But, Dad . . . it wasn’t like that. Anyway, Richard was the one who messed with Danielle’s snow globe. He’s the one who threw it at me.”

  Richard pipes up with, “But I said, ‘Catch,’ and you should have caught it. Then it wouldn’t have broken.”

  “I think we’ve heard enough, Gavin,” his mother says. She turns to Richard. “Richard, you may go home now.”

  “And I didn’t even throw it hard,” Richard adds as he gets up and starts for the door, looking very relieved. He doesn’t even glance back as he leaves.

  “See, Mom? And Dad? See how he’s always disrespecting my space? I think he needs to be put on punishment. It’s only fair.”

  Gavin looks down at his hands, waiting for the verdict. He listens to the front door close. Now he’s on his own.

  “I’m going to think about this,” his mother says.

  “There will be a punishment,” his father says. “You can count on that.”

  Danielle raises her chin in triumph. She smiles at Gavin. One of her snarly smiles.

  “You can be sure we’ll come up with something,” his father adds. “Something appropriate.”

  “Right now I have things to do,” Gavin’s mom continues. “Your great-aunt Myrtle and uncle Vestor are coming over for dinner tomorrow.”

  Oh, no, Gavin thinks. It can’t get any worse than Aunt Myrtle and Uncle Vestor coming to dinner. He has a feeling his troubles are just beginning.

  Two

  Eat Those Peas!

  Uncle Vestor and Aunt Myrtle come to Sunday dinner once a month. Aunt Myrtle is really Gavin’s dad’s aunt, so she’s Gavin’s great-aunt. But everyone just calls her Aunt Myrtle. It’s no fun when they come to visit, because Gavin has to become a completely different person. He has to say “Yes, ma’am,” “No, ma’am,” “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir.” He has to remember to eat with extra-good table manners.

  Throughout dinner, he has to listen to Aunt Myrtle’s long list of complaints and put up with the sharp looks that she gives him when checking to see if he’s eating with extra-good table manners. And when Uncle Vestor drops the usual quarter in his hand, which isn’t even enough to buy a candy bar, he has to look really excited and say, “Thank you, Uncle Vestor.” At least they’ve left Carlotta at home today.

  Carlotta is Aunt Myrtle’s Pomeranian. She’s a horrible dog with a fierce little wolf face, strange orange fur, and a way of making this low, growly sound from the back of her throat. She doesn’t like Gavin, and Gavin doesn’t like her. She’s too nervous—she yaps all the time and runs around Gavin’s ankles, threatening to nip at them. He doesn’t know why she acts that way around him. Maybe he gives off a funny scent.

  Now Aunt Myrtle is complaining about a pain in her hip. Uncle Vestor is silently chewing his mashed potatoes, looking as if he’s heard this complaint five million times. Aunt Myrtle thinks she might have to have hip-replacement surgery like her friend Gert. She goes on to explain how the surgery didn’t work and how Gert is still having hip problems and that it would be just her luck to still have the same difficulties too.

  Then she goes on to talk about her heartburn troubles and how she has to sit up in bed all night just to get to sleep. And then, of course, there’s talk of Carlotta. Gavin thinks of that little yapping mouth and how Carlotta’s small head jerks a bit with each bark. He imagines sharp nibbling at his ankles. It almost makes him put his chicken leg down.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do when Vestor goes on his trip next week to the Barbershop Harmonizers’ Convention. When he comes home for lunch, he always walks her.” Uncle Vestor not only owns a barbershop on Marin Street, but he’s also part of a singing group made up of real barbers. They sing for weddings and parties and stuff. Gavin has seen their act a bunch of times. He thinks about the Crooners now. That’s what they’re called: the Barbershop Crooners.

  Just then Gavin feels Aunt Myrtle staring at him again. Her eyes are squinted and her mouth is turned down in a disapproving way. Slowly, Gavin puts down the chicken bone he was happily gnawing on. He wipes his hands on the napkin he has in his lap, picks up his knife and fork, and attempts to cut the chicken off the bone. Chicken just doesn’t taste as good this way, but Aunt Myrtle is a firm believer in not eating with one’s hands if it can be helped. Even though his mom doesn’t mind it if it’s a drumstick. Gavin sighs and moves on to the peas that he’s been avoiding. They usually give him a gagging feeling. He stabs one pea with his fork and puts it in his mouth.

  The nastiness is almost more than he can bear. He takes a deep breath. He doesn’t dare gag in front of Aunt Myrtle. He puts another pea in his mouth, noting that Aunt Myrtle has continued to peer at him over her glasses.

  “Why are you eating your food like that? One pea at a time?”

  Before Gavin can think of an answer, Danielle says, “He always eats his peas like that, Aunt Myrtle. He doesn’t like peas.”

  “I didn’t ask you,” Aunt Myrtle says, turning to Danielle. “I asked Gavin here.”

  Gavin almost smiles, but he holds it back. “I can get them down better this way.”

  “Well, that’s just nonsense. Eat those peas. I want to see you take a forkful and eat them down. Right now.”

  Gavin feels his face grow warm. He holds his breath and swallows hard. There’s no way he can take a whole forkful of peas, put them in his mouth, chew, and then swallow. That’s just impossible. Usually he eats a pea or two at a time. Sometimes he can manage to eat half a forkful if he takes a quick gulp of milk to get it down.

  He begins to click his teeth, which is what he does when he gets nervous, like when a scary scene in a movie is just about to get scarier.

  “I’m waiting,” Aunt Myrtle says.

  His mom and dad exchange looks, but he can’t tell if they’re about to jump in or not. They seem to be waiting as well.

  Danielle, on the other hand, has a sly smile on her lips. She watches him with one eyebrow raised. She even stops eating, as if to focus all her attention on his misery.

  Gavin scoops up a few peas with his fork.

  “That’s not a forkful,” Aunt Myrtle says.

  Gavin looks over at his mother. He can’t read her face. He can’t tell if she approves or disapproves of what Aunt Myrtle is making him do. His father, however, is going about eating his dinner. Gavin scoops up a full forkful. He looks at it as if the peas are his personal enemy. Slowly, he places the fork in his mouth. He feels a gag starting up at the back of his throat. Totally out of his control, he feels a lurch in his stomach. His eyes grow big with alarm. Quickly, he grabs his glass of milk and takes a huge swig and then another. The peas go down. He breathes a big sigh of relief and looks over at Aunt Myrtle. The corners of her mouth have sunk down even further.

  “I think you’ve spoiled this boy, Lisa,” she says to his mom. It always sounds strange when someone calls his mother by her first name. He thinks of his parents’ names: Lisa and Greg. Like they’re regular people, and not his and Danielle’s mom and dad.

  “Yes, I think this boy’s been allowed to get
away with things.”

  “Like what, Aunt Myrtle?” his mother asks with a strange tone in her voice.

  “Why, look what he allowed that little friend of his to do to Danielle’s prized souvenir.”

  Now Danielle really perks up. She’d met Aunt Myrtle at the door with her dumb tale of woe about that stupid snow globe. She’d even squeezed out a few tears. She knows she’s Aunt Myrtle’s favorite. Kiss-up! Gavin thinks.

  “Why, I think Gavin here should pay his sister what that thing cost.”

  “We were considering that,” Gavin’s mom says.

  Danielle shifts in her seat. She can hardly contain herself.

  “When I move in next week, I’ll let him walk Carlotta. It’ll be his little job, to learn the value of a dollar.” She sits back in her chair, pleased with her plan. “Yes, I need someone to walk Carlotta, and he needs to earn the money to replace that snow globe. We’ll give him two dollars a day, which is really too much to walk a dog, but comes out of the goodness of my heart.”

  Several things make Gavin’s brows sink: move in and little job and two measly dollars? What’s all this about Aunt Myrtle moving in? And walking Carlotta, that mean, snarling dog of hers, is going to be his job, for just two dollars a day? Well, it’s better than a quarter a day, he supposes.

  As if she’s heard some of his unspoken questions, Gavin’s mom turns to Danielle and Gavin and says, “Aunt Myrtle is going to stay with us for a week or so while Uncle Vestor goes to his Barbershop Harmonizers’ Convention in Kansas City.”

  Gavin looks over at Uncle Vestor, who’s now smiling, with a faraway expression on his face. He looks like a man who’s getting ready to make a great escape.

  “So,” his mother continues, “since Auntie doesn’t like to stay in their big house all alone, I thought it might be nice if she stayed here.” Mom smiles brightly at each of them. Danielle cocks her head and smiles back. Gavin stares down at his hands.

  “Isn’t this good news?” his mother prods. “Aren’t we going to be happy to have her? Especially you, Gavin. Now you’re going to have this nice little way to earn money and show responsibility.”

  “I don’t know if my snow globe can actually be replaced,” Danielle says—just to complicate things, Gavin suspects.

  “Well,” Aunt Myrtle says, “he’ll be able to give you its value.” She turns back to Gavin. “Now, let’s eat those peas.”

  Why did he think Aunt Myrtle would forget about the peas? Why would he think that he could somehow get out of finishing them off? Once again, he must struggle with another forkful with all eyes on him. He holds his breath and manages to get it down by thinking of the peach cobbler his mother made for dessert. Mind over matter. As soon as his audience has moved their attention away from him and onto their own concerns, he manages to deposit the next forkful into the napkin on his lap. He looks up just as Aunt Myrtle is mentioning Carlotta’s accommodations.

  His mom doesn’t like dogs in the house, and that’s going to be a problem. “We have a nice little shed off the garage, Aunt Myrtle,” she says now.

  Aunt Myrtle’s mouth presses into a disapproving line, and she looks to Gavin’s dad. In a quiet voice she says, “Carlotta is not an outside dog. The shock would probably kill her.”

  Gavin drops his head down to hide the smile he’s trying very hard not to show.

  Aunt Myrtle goes on. “The only time she’s ever outside is when Vestor here walks her.”

  Gavin’s mom is quiet. Aunt Myrtle looks again to Gavin’s father, as if she’s addressing only him.

  This seems to force his dad to take a stand. “I think we can keep Carlotta on the back porch behind a child’s gate. We still have the one we used when Gavin was little in the garage.”

  Gavin’s mom doesn’t say anything. She takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Aunt Myrtle smiles as if she’s just won a boxing-match round.

  When the last of his peas have either been washed down with milk or slipped into his napkin—which he plans to stuff into his pocket and discard in the toilet at the first opportunity—Gavin asks to be excused. He has to do this only when Aunt Myrtle and Uncle Vestor are visiting. Before his mother can answer, Aunt Myrtle checks his plate. She squints at it for a few seconds as if trying to find a pea. “You may go,” she finally says.

  He stands, quickly shoves his balled-up napkin into his pocket, and practically backs out of the room. He’s free! However, before he can completely escape the dining room, Aunt Myrtle gets in, “Gavin here is going to make a good dog walker while Vestor is at his Harmonizers’ Convention. I know he and Carlotta are going to get along just fine.”

  Gavin manages to smile weakly. He thinks of Carlotta’s face, the round black button nose, the ugly cotton-candy orange feathery fur with bits of black and white, those short little legs and sharp toenails that make clicking noises on hard floors. He thinks of Carlotta’s mouth, always fixed in something between a grin and a leer while she pants her stinky breath and shows off her pointed razor-sharp canines as if she’d love to sink them into Gavin’s leg. Her liquidy eyes are always bright and menacing. A week with Carlotta . . . How will he ever be able to stand it?

  Three

  Problems, Problems, Problems

  Without Gavin having any say whatsoever, the details of his “little job” are arranged. The next morning at breakfast, he finds out all about it. They are sitting at the table, and Danielle is pouring the last bit of juice into her glass all the way up to the brim as she laughs to herself. He ignores her and protests, “Danielle took all the juice.”

  “Hmm?” his father says. He’s reading the newspaper and sipping his coffee, and Gavin knows he’s not really listening. Then he hears tiny clicks on the hall tiles growing louder, coming toward the kitchen. Next, Gavin hears Aunt Myrtle’s voice. “Careful with that, Vestor. Oh, just take my cases on upstairs.” Then Carlotta rounds the corner and stands expectantly in the kitchen doorway, panting, her little face surrounded by grotesque orange fur that looks prickly enough to cut someone. She stares at Gavin, then one side of her thin black dog lip curls up and Gavin hears a low, throaty sound.

  “Now, don’t do that, Carlotta.” Aunt Myrtle cluck-clucks and reaches down to scoop the dog up in her arms. She tickles her stomach and coos. “There’s my baby,” she says, pursing her lips.

  Gavin wants to gag. It’s almost worse than eating peas. His mother appears and ushers Aunt Myrtle to the area behind the child’s gate that’s blocking off the back porch.

  “Here, Auntie. This is what we have set up for Carlotta.” Aunt Myrtle looks over at the straw basket where Gavin’s mom usually keeps newspapers. It has been nicely lined with an old baby quilt. She sniffs and gives Carlotta a squeeze as if to protect her. She sits down at the table—with Carlotta! Gavin’s eyes grow big as he looks from his mother to Aunt Myrtle and then back to his mother again. His mother turns to his father with an expression on her face that Gavin knows is a cry for help.

  Gavin can feel his father sighing to himself. He gets up, walks over to his aunt, and gently takes Carlotta from her arms. “I’m sure Carlotta is going to like her new quarters,” he says. He places the dog on her new bed on the back porch. Carlotta scratches at the quilt for a few moments, then settles down with her head resting on her paws. She looks at Aunt Myrtle as if pleading her case. Aunt Myrtle, her mouth set in a grim line, says, “I’d like some tea, please. That is, if you have tea.”

  “Of course.” Gavin’s mom jumps up to turn on the burner under the kettle.

  This is what Gavin learns from Aunt Myrtle while she sips her tea: She isn’t hungry for anything else. Gavin will walk Carlotta once a day, after school, so he must come home right away. No messing around. If—and this is a big “if”—he performs his job satisfactorily, Aunt Myrtle will pay him enough to replace Danielle’s snow globe with something like it.

  “Though I know you can’t replace the exact snow globe,” Aunt Myrtle adds, looking over at Danielle with sympathy.

  �
��I got that snow globe in New York City at the choir fest,” Danielle says.

  Gavin rolls his eyes. He doesn’t believe for a minute that Danielle is still all that sad about that dumb snow globe. She’s just happy about his troubles, Gavin is sure. He looks over at Carlotta. She’s up on her short little legs turning around and around on the folded quilt. It would be so much better if she were a real dog—something way bigger, something that could be a true friend. At least Carlotta is ignoring him and not giving him mean, threatening looks—for now.

  When Gavin enters the classroom of his new school, Carver Elementary, he sees that his teacher, Ms. Shelby-Ortiz (who does not know how great he is at times tables, soccer, and skateboarding) has assigned Problems, Problems, Problems as the morning journal topic. He stares at it. Then he thinks about Ms. Shelby-Ortiz’s two names. He’d heard one of the bossy girls, Deja, explain to her friend Nikki that modern women, up-to-date women, like keeping their own names now—the names they grew up with. Nowadays, Deja had said, women don’t have to have their husband’s name at all, and that’s the way she’s going to do it. When she grows up, she’s going to keep her own last name. Or stick it together with her husband’s name, just like Ms. Shelby-Ortiz. Gavin doesn’t know if he likes that Deja girl. She reminds him too much of his sister, Danielle.

  Other kids are staring at the morning journal topic too. Richard, the cause of Gavin’s troubles, isn’t even bothering to look at it. Gavin can see he’s playing with some rubbery thing in his desk. Danielle would call Richard a knucklehead. From Gavin’s seat behind him, he gets a pretty good view of the array of toys Richard brings to school.

  Ms. Shelby-Ortiz seems pleased with the topic she’s come up with. She smiles encouragingly at all the students who are getting ready to write. “I chose this topic because I realized that life is like math. How is it like math, class?”