“Well, we’ll have to change that,” said Dweeble. “What do you say we head up to Tahoe this winter?”
I didn’t know what to say. Winter was months away. And moving in with Dweeble was a big deal. Now we’re planning vacations with him, too? It was so much to think about.
“You okay, Annabelle?” My mom reached over and squeezed my arm.
I shrugged. “I’m fine, I guess.”
Dweeble smiled at me. “Being the new kid is tough, but you’ll get used to it.”
I’d heard that before but it didn’t make me feel any better. I didn’t particularly want to get used to being picked on.
“Can I please be excused?” I asked.
“Don’t you want dessert?” asked Dweeble. He got up and headed to the pantry, coming back a minute later with a fancy-looking silver box. “I picked up some Swiss chocolate at the new gourmet food store.”
He flipped back the lid to reveal rows of chocolate pieces—some milk, some dark, and all delicious looking. “These were imported from Lucerne, the small town where Jason is living. I figured eating them would remind me of him.”
Even though I made fun of Dweeble all the time, I had to admit there was something sweet about this. More importantly, the chocolates were delicious— hard on the outside and melty on the inside. When I caught one between the roof of my mouth and my tongue and pressed up, the flavor spread everywhere, making my taste buds go crazy.
“So good,” I said.
My mom took a piece too, even though she was still working on her steak. “Delicious.”
Dweeble agreed. “Yes, cheese, chocolate, fondue, and universal health care. They really know what they’re doing in Switzerland.”
Whatever that meant.
Pepper sniffed at the table.
“Not for you,” I said.
“Definitely not. Be careful with that,” said Dweeble. “Chocolate is toxic for dogs. There’s a chemical in it called theobromine that humans can digest, but dogs can’t. In fact, too much could kill him.”
“Really?” I asked, gulping.
“No joke.” Dweeble moved the box to the center of the table, far from Pepper’s reach. “It’s a bad idea to feed dogs any human food, but if Pepper gets his hands on chocolate, onions, or grapes, we’ve got a serious problem.”
“Good thing he doesn’t have hands,” I said.
Dweeble chuckled. “Right.”
As I reached for a second piece, I realized something. Chocolate may be dangerous for dogs . . . but it’s probably okay for boys.
chapter ten
boy treats
The next day, I strutted into science class, walking tall, with my shoulders swaying. I tried to adopt Jackson’s bouncy heeled swagger, and hoped I didn’t look too ridiculous. I didn’t know how to translate the pointy ears into something I could use to my advantage, but I didn’t want to skip any steps. So just to be safe, I visualized that my ears were pointy.
Unfortunately, I got to class too early, wasting my alpha-dog swagger. No one got to see it except for the teacher, and she hardly looked up from the paper she was grading.
“Hi, Ms. Roberts.”
“Hello, Annabelle,” she replied.
Since I wasn’t one for small talk I made my way to Table Number Seven and sat down. Luckily, the new walk wasn’t my only strategy. All this time, I’d forgotten one of the most basic principles of dog training. Dogs respond to food. Hopefully boys would, too.
I reached into my backpack and pulled out two pieces of Dweeble’s fancy Swiss chocolate. Just holding them made my mouth water, like Pepper’s did whenever he saw me go for the dog biscuits.
As hard as the chocolate was to part with, I knew it had to be done. This was too important. If it worked, it would be worth the sacrifice.
I placed one piece in front of Oliver’s space and one piece in front of Tobias’s.
Call it bribery or call it positive reinforcement. I didn’t care, as long as it worked.
As the class filled up, I went over my notes. (I had time to glance at both sets—the science ones and the boy ones.)
“What’s this?” asked Tobias, as soon as he sat down. He picked up the candy and held it closer to his face. Like maybe he thought the answer to his question was written on the wrapper in tiny print. (It wasn’t. The answer was in my brain. Oh, and in the dog/boy-training book, of course.)
I smiled through gritted teeth, pretending like I didn’t find him to be the most annoying guy in the world. “It’s this really great chocolate from Switzerland. My mom’s boyfriend got it for me.”
“And you’re giving me this?”
“Sure.” I nodded and looked him in the eye.
He stared back, trying to figure out why I was being nice to him, I guess. Well, I’d wonder, too.
I shrugged and faked a smile. “We have so much of it at home, I just want to unload some. Plus, I thought you and Oliver would like it.” I kept talking since he wasn’t. “Go ahead and try it. It’s really good.”
Tobias eyed the candy, like he was afraid I’d poisoned it or something. The boy treats didn’t seem to be working, which was a problem, because I didn’t have a backup plan.
I was about to give up—to tell him I was kidding, or to just not say anything—when the final bell rang.
Suddenly Oliver bounded into the room, red faced, out of breath, and a little sweaty, too. He slammed his books on our table, saw the candy, and said, “Oh, sweet!” Then he unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth.
We both watched Oliver chomp and swallow. He didn’t savor the candy like I thought he would. In fact, he probably ate it too fast to recognize the greatness. I glanced from one boy to the other, worried that I’d wasted fancy chocolate for nothing.
Tobias studied Oliver with suspicion. After a minute passed and Oliver hadn’t fallen to the floor, or foamed at the mouth, or sprouted a head-to-toe rash, I guess Tobias became convinced that I hadn’t given him poison, so he ate his, too.
“Mmm.” Tobias grunted. He spent more time chewing his piece, and seemed to appreciate it on some deeper level, which almost made me like him. Almost.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
Neither of them said thanks, but I know they heard me. And guess what? I didn’t care. And guess what else? When we had to do a group experiment, we actually did a group experiment.
It’s because I stayed in dominant dog mode, grabbing the microscope and saying to Tobias, “I’ll look first, and tell you what I see.”
When Oliver started to protest I told him, “You can take notes for the table.”
I don’t know if it was the chocolate bribe or my tone of voice, or maybe my ears were pointing in some small, subtle way. Whatever it was, it worked.
Tobias seemed too surprised to argue. I looked him straight in the eye, as if daring him to challenge me. And he didn’t say a word.
Oliver actually opened up his notebook and took notes like I told him to.
Sure, he had to borrow my pen before he did it, but it was a start.
Anyway, after class, I made sure to get it back.
Now that the boy situations in English and science were under control, I figured everything else would be easy.
But a week later, when I got to our normal spot for lunch, Erik and his friends were already sitting there. (We called them the Corn Dog Boys now, for the obvious reasons.) For a second, I worried that someone had invited them to eat with us. Then I noticed Rachel and Claire standing off to the side. Rachel glared daggers at them. Claire always seemed so happy and easygoing, but today she looked like she was sucking on a sour ball.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“We’re just waiting for Yumi and Emma,” said Claire, blowing her bangs out of her face with an annoyed huff. “And then we have to find somewhere else to sit.”
“It’s not fair. The Corn Dog Boys only beat me by, like, ten seconds.” Rachel spoke in a whisper, and gestured toward the boys with her chin.
It
’s not like we hadn’t seen it coming. Every day, the Corn Dog Boys edged further and further into our territory. Yesterday we’d bumped elbows with them. And today they’d taken over: spreading their backpacks around and splaying their legs wide, taking up way more space than they needed to take up.
“If they just moved a little, we could all fit,” I said.
Claire giggled, nervously. “You can tell them that if you want, but I’m staying here.”
“They can’t just hog the whole area.” Even as I said this, I knew full well the Corn Dog Boys could do whatever they wanted to do, because, well, I guess because no one would tell them otherwise. “We’ve been sitting there since the first day of school.”
I thought Rachel would agree with me but she just shrugged silently.
I couldn’t believe it. Rachel actually lived with a real live boy. She had plenty of opportunity to practice dealing with that species. The way she yelled at Jackson amazed me. Yet here she was, intimidated by a few sixth graders. I guess it was different when the boys in question weren’t related to you.
Just then Emma came over asking, “What’s up?” As soon as she noticed the Corn Dog Boys she froze, like an invisible force field protected them.
It was no shocker that Emma hung back. She seemed to survive junior high by keeping a low profile and staying out of every boy’s way. Emma was a total braniac—a straight-A student in all honors classes. So maybe she was onto something. Of course, I’d tried to make myself invisible, too, but it didn’t work for me.
We looked around at the mostly full lunch area. All the good spots were already taken. The only space large enough to fit the five of us was right next to the garbage cans. Flies buzzed nearby. Smelly trash overflowed onto the bench seats. No mystery why that spot remained empty.
Someone had to do something. We couldn’t eat by garbage and we couldn’t eat standing up. Yet we all just stood there.
“I’ll be right back,” I said and ducked behind a tree. I pulled out my dog/boy-training book and flipped through the pages in search of something that might help.
Hmm. That didn’t exactly apply. Erik was no stranger. Just someone who I wished was a stranger. Especially since he was clearly the dominant dog in the Corn Dog Boy pack. And of course, I’d no interest in petting him.
I flipped to the next page.
Well, that might work . . .
As a backup plan, I pulled a few pieces of Swiss chocolate out of my lunch bag. I didn’t want to give up any more, but I couldn’t deny that it’d worked like magic last week.
I approached the Corn Dog Boys carefully, not actually putting out my hand for them to sniff, of course, but sort of pretending to, just like I had with my pointy ears. When I got close enough I called out, “Hey.”
Busy pelting each other with Cool Ranch Doritos, the boys didn’t hear me. Or maybe they ignored me on purpose. Either way, I couldn’t give up that easily. “Hey, Erik,” I said, louder this time.
Erik finally looked up, but didn’t say a word. Someone had cut his bangs, so now only the tips had a tint of faded green.
I started moving closer but stopped because I didn’t want to startle him.
“Um, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“What?” he asked, sharply.
Don’t ask, tell. I needed to be better about following the rules. I waved him closer. “Come here.”
Erik rolled his eyes and started to stand up. But then Joe whispered something in his ear. The two of them laughed. I felt my cheeks heat up. I told myself I was lucky I didn’t know what he said, that it didn’t matter. Words were just words. I needed action.
“Come on, Erik.” I used my most commanding tone of voice, pretending that I’d just caught Pepper chewing up my favorite T-shirt.
Amazingly, Erik stood up and headed over.
“What do you want?” He seemed annoyed, like his time was so precious and I’d interrupted his very important baloney sandwich consumption.
I leaned against the tree, like that could protect me, and glanced over my shoulder. My friends watched from a safe distance. By now Yumi had joined them. This didn’t seem to be working, which made me want to give up, but it was too late. Turning back to face him, I took a deep breath and tried to make my case. “Um, we’ve been sitting there since the beginning of school, and since you’re only four people taking up the whole table, I was wondering . . . Well, we were kind of hoping you and your friends could maybe move over. Just a little.”
“We were here first.”
There was too much hesitation in my voice, so I tried again. “There’s room for everyone.”
“Whatever.” He turned to go.
“No, wait.” I grabbed the sleeve of his T-shirt. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at me. Gasping, I dropped my hand, since you should never touch a strange dog.
If Erik actually were a strange dog, I’d hold out my hand for him to sniff. So that’s what I did. Except since he’s a boy, I kept my palm up and made sure there was chocolate inside. “Here. Try one of these.”
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Amazing Swiss chocolate. It’s imported.” I didn’t really know what this meant, but Dweeble had said it like it was something impressive.
“What are you doing, trying to bribe me?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head.
Erik scoffed. “You can’t ask me to give up our lunch spot for some chocolate.”
“I know. I’m not. Seriously. It doesn’t even matter that we’ve been sitting there since day one, or that you guys don’t need all that room. Or that all we want is less than half the table. I don’t care. I just thought you might like this.”
He took the chocolate like he was doing me some huge favor.
“We’ll sit somewhere else,” I told him. “It’s not a big deal, so don’t even worry about it. Okay? It’s cool. We don’t really like that spot, anyway.” I turned around to go.
“Hey, Spaz,” he called.
“I don’t respond to that.”
“Okay, whatever your name is.”
I spun around and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m Annabelle. You know that.” Then I headed back over to my friends, walking tall, in case he was still watching. Sure I’d lost, but at least I’d tried.
“What was that about?” asked Rachel.
“Nothing,” I replied.
Emma stared at me. “No, you did something just then.”
I tucked my hair behind my ears and looked away. “I just gave Erik some chocolate.”
“Why’d you do that? He’s such a jerk,” said Rachel.
“Was it so he’d move?” asked Claire.
“Not exactly. Well, kind of. Maybe we should just eat by the trash cans? It’s only one lunch. Tomorrow, I’ll try and get here first.”
“Hey, look,” said Rachel, pointing to the lunch table.
I turned around to find Erik and Joe and the other two Corn Dog Boys moving their backpacks out of the way. A second later they slid over to make room for us.
It was a miracle!
Okay, not quite. But my plan had worked, which was very cool.
We hurried over and claimed our spot. We had to squish so all five of us would fit, but what did I care? We didn’t get stuck eating by the trash!
After lunch, as we were packing up, I thanked Erik for giving us space, because dogs need positive reinforcement. My friends thought I was weird for doing it, and they were probably right, but I figured it was better to be safe than stuck eating with the flies.
chapter eleven
scaredy-cats
Phys Ed still annoyed me, and not because I got picked last for basketball. Yes, that bruised my ego, but I would’ve gotten over it had I actually been able to play in the game.
Our teams are coed, but usually the boys hog the ball the whole time. A few girls try and get in on the game, but most would rather stand around and talk on the sidelines. I’ve tried playing every day but no one would pass to me. Not eve
n when I was wide open.
Today I got sick and tired of waiting around, so I stole the ball from Tommy St. James in the third quarter. As I dribbled down the court, he called me “Spaz,” and started yelling about how I’d fouled him, but that was a lie, and no one listened to him, anyway. Everyone on his team was too busy trying to get the ball back, but no one could.
I faked left and right, leaving them all in the dust. Once I made it to the top of the key, I sped in for a layup, and shot. The ball swooshed through the net, without even hitting the rim.
My team cheered so loud it drowned out Tommy’s whining. I stole the ball again a few minutes later and then I finally got passed to. I scored twice more, and we ended up winning the game by four points.
Afterward Sanjay, the team captain, high fived me and said, “That was awesome. You’re on a roll, Annabelle.” Yeah, that’s right. A boy actually called me by my real name and he was nice to me.
“Um, thanks,” I said, shrugging and grinning and probably blushing. What else could I say? It was true. And he didn’t even know the half of it.
Everything would have been so perfect had my day ended right then, but as I was on my way to the parking lot to meet my mom, I realized I’d forgotten my math book. I turned around and headed back to the locker area.
School’s-over excitement buzzed through the air. Doors clanged, kids rushed by, talking, laughing, yelling, and even squealing. One boy tried to shove his friend into me, but I scrambled away just in time.
When I got close to my locker, I noticed some guy leaning against it.
Figuring I could handle the situation, I didn’t freak out. But that was before I realized it was Jackson.
His left shoulder pressed into the grate—my locker grate—as he talked to some other guy, five lockers down. The two of them took up so much space, like they owned the whole school. I waited for a minute, hoping Jackson’s friend would get what he needed, so they could both just move on. But the guy took forever.
I soon lost patience. Jackson was just a boy. And boys were dogs. I’d already trained a bunch.
Okay I’d trained a few. Temporarily. Still, I told myself I had nothing to fear. Jackson was no different. And now I knew what to do.
Boys Are Dogs Page 8
