“Thank you,” I said, taking two pieces back to my desk. I stuck the pages back together. It wasn’t pretty, but at least it was readable.
I sat back, marveling over how the dog/boy training book had worked for me, yet again.
Then something occurred to me. If Tobias were an actual dog, I’d have said, “Good boy,” and patted him on his head. So, taking a deep breath, I turned around and put on my best fake smile. “Thank you so much, Tobias. It was so sweet of you to bring it back.”
“Whatever,” Tobias grumbled.
“And please thank Erik for me, too.”
It wasn’t easy, thanking the boys for giving me back what was rightfully mine. But I always gave Pepper positive reinforcement.
Hmm. Maybe if I got Jackson a really delicious chew toy, he’d leave me alone.
chapter fourteen
jackson strikes again
On Friday night, the doorbell rang, which always drives Pepper crazy. It’s like there’s some invisible wire connecting the button to his brain, or maybe it’s just the sound. He hears it and goes nuts, running straight for the front of the house, barking his head off and jumping up and down in front of the door like there’s a lifetime supply of dog biscuits on the other side of it. Or maybe he’s trying to push the entire thing open himself, with some combination of his front paws and the sheer weight of his excitement. I guess the concepts of locks and doorknobs are pretty much beyond his grasp.
“I’ll get it,” I yelled, running downstairs.
Mom sat in the living room, grading papers. Dweeble was on the floor, waxing his skis. Big shocker—they were gigantic and fluorescent yellow.
“The little guy is turning into quite the guard dog,” said Mom.
I had to laugh. “Some guard dog. If anyone tries to break in, he’ll lick them to death.”
“Well at least he can protect us against burglars who are allergic to dogs,” Dweeble added.
“Hey, that’s funny,” I said, as I headed to the entryway.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Dweeble replied.
I used one hand to hold Pepper’s collar and the other to open up the door.
Mia and Sophia stood on the front step, sleeping bags tucked under their arms and backpacks strapped to their backs.
“You’re here!” I yelled.
Sure, it had only been a few weeks since we said good-bye after camp, but it seemed like months. And going by the way they screamed, “Annabelle!” I’m pretty sure they felt the same way.
“Come in,” I said.
Once the door was safely shut, I let go of the dog and hugged them.
Pepper jumped and almost knocked over Sophia, but she didn’t mind. “He’s the cutest!” She bent down so Pepper could lick her face.
“Oh, but his breath stinks,” she added, scrunching up her nose.
It wasn’t something I could really argue with, but it seemed weird to bring it up first thing. Of course, that was Sophia.
“He’s adorable, Annabelle. I want a dog,” Mia cooed.
“You already have a turtle and a gerbil,” said Sophia. “If anyone gets a new pet, it should be me.”
“The turtle is my sister’s and he’s pretty boring,” said Mia.
I took them upstairs so they could drop their stuff off in my room. Pepper ran ahead. When he got to the top of the steps, he turned around and ran back down, I guess to make sure we were still coming. Sophia almost tripped over him, but I grabbed her arm and steadied her at the last second.
Once we were in my room, Mia looked around. “This place is huge,” she said.
“My cousins’ house is bigger, and they have a pool,” Sophia said. She headed to my window and looked out. “You do have a nice view of the street, though.”
“Hi, girls.” My mom came in, asking, “Has Annabelle offered to give you the grand tour yet?”
“We’re too busy,” I told her. House tours were boring and I’m surprised my mom didn’t know any better.
“Well, make yourselves at home,” she said.
“Do you have any Pop Tarts?” asked Sophia.
Mom seemed confused. “Ah, no. I don’t think so.”
“Well, how can I make myself at home if there aren’t any Pop Tarts? We always have Pop Tarts at my house.” Sophia has a weird sense of humor. The kind that isn’t always funny. (But at least she’d finally stopped telling knock-knock jokes.)
We all knew to ignore her. Even my mom, who said, “Okay, then. I’ll leave you girls alone, now.”
As she ducked out of my room, Mia asked, “Can we take your dog for a walk?”
“Sure,” I said, and we headed back downstairs for Pepper’s leash.
Once we got outside, Sophia said, “Let me hold him, okay?”
Mia and I looked at each other and smiled. This was typical Sophia, always wanting to be in charge.
“He’s kind of wild,” I said. “I should start out, but you can hold the leash later on.”
She opened her mouth to argue but then changed her mind, and looked at her nails, instead. They were painted purple, and so were Mia’s.
Mia and Sophia did stuff like that all the time— painting their nails the same color and wearing their hair in matching styles. Sometimes they even dressed alike, which was funny because they looked and acted like opposites. They both have long dark hair, but Sophia is short and chubby, with big blue eyes and lots of freckles. And Mia is skinny, with brown eyes and no freckles. She towers over both of us, but she’s so quiet, I usually forget she’s so tall.
Anyway, today I noticed it wasn’t just their nails that matched. They also wore identical cowboy boots. They were tan, with a pink embroidered flower on the pointy toe. “When did you get those?” I asked.
“My mom took us to the mall last Sunday,” said Mia.
“I thought your mom’s car was in the shop,” I said.
“It was. She got it out that morning.”
“Oh.”
“I asked her to take us to your house, but she said it was too far,” said Mia.
“But at least we’re here now,” Sophia added.
This was true. And anyway, I never wanted to dress alike the way they did, especially since we’d had to wear uniforms at school every day. Sophia and Mia knew this, but they usually asked me if I wanted to get their same shoes and clothes or whatever. It seemed strange that they didn’t ask this time, but I guess that’s what I get for moving away. Not that it was my choice or anything.
As we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac, Mia’s and Sophia’s boots click-clacked along the sidewalk. Even their steps matched, a constant reminder that I was no longer a part of their regular life. I tried not to think about it.
Once we were off my street, I showed them all of Pepper’s new tricks. He sat when I told him to sit. He raised his paw when I told him to shake. He walked by my side when I told him to heel. Well, except for when he tried to chase after a squirrel.
Once I got him to calm down, Sophia asked, “Can I hold Pepper now?”
“Sure.” I handed over the leash, and showed her how to put it on properly. “Make sure your wrist goes through the loop, and hold the leash in the palm of your hand. If you hold it with your fingers, you might break one.”
“Okay,” said Sophia.
“And make sure you don’t let go. He gets really hyper when cars goes by. I’m trying to train him not to chase them, but so far, it hasn’t worked.”
“I’ll be careful,” Sophia promised.
“Oh, and try to steer clear of garbage cans. He loves eating trash. Last Wednesday I wasn’t paying attention and he knocked one over and tried to eat a moldy piece of pizza. It’s not easy prying stuff from his mouth.”
“Okay, already.” Sophia started walking forward but Pepper stopped in his tracks and looked up at me with his adorable big eyes.
I bent over and gave him a quick scratch behind his ears. “It’s okay,” I told him. “Just be good.”
“You talk to him?” Mia as
ked.
I shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“So what’s your new school like?” asked Mia. “Do you like it?”
“It’s okay,” I said. This wasn’t a total lie. Birch-wood was great when I hung out with Rachel and her friends, and terrible when I got stuck with boys like Tobias and Erik. Add those different experiences together and divide, and you come up with okay. (Jackson brought the average way down, but since I’d successfully avoided him since the locker incident, I didn’t factor him into the equation.)
Of course, Birchwood was the last thing I wanted to think about, so I changed the subject. “What’s happening at St. Catherine’s?”
“Not much.” Mia shrugged.
“Half of the fifth graders went home yesterday with head lice,” said Sophia. “And there’s a new sixth grade math teacher.”
“She’s nice, but she gives too much homework,” said Mia.
“It was Sara’s birthday yesterday and she brought in donuts with rainbow sprinkles,” said Sophia. “I told her chocolate would’ve been better, and she acted all offended. I don’t know why. I just thought it would be a good tip, you know, for next year.”
It was getting dark, so we turned around and headed back. As soon as we got to my street, I noticed that Rachel and Jackson’s garage door was open. I could hear someone moving around inside. Fearing the worst, I stopped short.
“Hey, guys? Let’s cross the street now.” I tried to sound casual about it, but clearly my voice sounded funny. My friends glanced at me like they knew something was up.
“What’s the hurry?” asked Sophia.
“Um, my friend Rachel is allergic,” I said, pointing to her house. “And I don’t want her having an attack.” I felt bad for making up fake excuses (even though it was based on the truth), but the real reason I was avoiding the house seemed too embarrassing to explain. How could I tell my friends I was nervous around some dumb boy? And I didn’t even know if Jackson was in there. It could’ve been anyone— Rachel, their mom, the exterminator—which meant that basically I was afraid of the possibility of a boy. You can’t get much more pathetic than that.
“So Pepper can’t even walk on her sidewalk?” asked Sophia. “You know that’s public property. She can’t make you stay away.”
“She doesn’t make me. It’s just—”
“Hey, Spazabelle!” Jackson yelled.
Uh-oh.
Jackson walked out of the garage and stood in the middle of his driveway, with his skateboard tucked under his arm.
Mia gasped and grabbed my arm. “Who’s that cute boy?” she whispered.
“Ew! No one.” I jumped off the sidewalk and headed across the street, getting as far away from him as possible. “Let’s go,” I said, motioning to my friends.
They followed me until Jackson called, “Whatcha doin’, Spaz?”
Then Sophia stopped in her tracks and glanced over her shoulder. “What did he call you?”
“Nothing.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her away. “Come on!”
“It’s the Spazerator. Walking her dumb dog,” he called.
“But who is he?” she asked.
“He’s just my friend Rachel’s older brother. He’s kind of a jerk.”
“You go to school with him?” asked Mia.
“Unfortunately.”
“But what did he just call you?” asked Sophia.
“Will you please drop it?” I walked inside and trudged up to my room.
“He’s cute,” said Mia.
“You already said that.”
“Super-cute,” Sophia said, and they both giggled.
Jackson makes fun of me in front of my friends, and they think he’s cute? Ouch. “He’s really annoying.”
“You can be cute and annoying at the same time,” said Sophia.
“But Jackson’s so annoying, it cancels out his cuteness,” I insisted. “Believe me. I’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Okay, fine. But he’s just one boy. What about the rest of them? You must like someone,” said Sophia.
Just thinking about the Birchwood boys, and Jackson especially, made me feel sick to my stomach. “Will you stop asking me that.”
“Well, you don’t have to get mad,” said Sophia.
“I can’t help it,” I said, fuming now. “You won’t leave me alone and you just don’t get it. Going to school with boys isn’t what you think it is. It’s not like in the movies, where they’re all sweet, texting girls and buying them flowers and opening doors and stuff.”
“You don’t have to yell,” said Sophia.
“I’m not yelling,” I yelled.
We both looked at Mia, who shrugged. This could have meant, “I don’t know,” or, “I’m not taking sides.”
Neither answer would’ve helped. I took a deep breath and turned back to Sophia. “I’m just trying to explain.”
“Well, then explain. What’s it like?” asked Sophia.
“Remember the camp dance? Boys are like that, but a hundred times worse. It’s like going to school with a bunch of wild dogs.”
Mia and Sophia looked at each other and cracked up.
“Seriously, you guys.”
The more I insisted, the harder they laughed. There wasn’t any way to get them to understand. Mia and Sophia looked like my best friends and sounded like my best friends, but something had changed between us. And whatever it was, I didn’t like it. Usually our sleepovers flew by. Now it was only eight o’clock and we’d already run out of things to talk about.
“I miss St. Catherine’s,” I said, once they finally calmed down. “I wish I could go back.”
“Me, too,” said Mia. “We really miss you.”
Sophia seemed confused. “Don’t get me wrong. I wish you could come back, too. But I don’t get why you’d want to. You live in this really cool house, and you have a dog, and St. Catherine’s is so boring.”
I opened my mouth, all set to try and explain, but there wasn’t any way to make her understand. St. Catherine’s didn’t seem boring to me. But even if that were the case, I’d have preferred boring to the torture-inducing experience known as Birchwood Middle School.
chapter fifteen
dweeble takes flight
Dweeble made us waffles and hot cocoa in the morning, before Mia and Sophia got picked up.
Then he spent the rest of the day packing. He was flying to Switzerland that night, and boy, were his arms going to be tired. Yeah, he actually made that joke. Even worse, since no one laughed the first time, he tried it again an hour later. Mom giggled on try number two, probably because she felt sorry for him.
I could’ve told him that joke wasn’t ever going to be funny, but decided not to. It wasn’t Dweeble’s fault he was humor-challenged. And at least he tried. I guess I was feeling pretty generous, since he’d be gone for an entire week. I even hugged him good-bye.
“Do you want anything from Switzerland?” he asked.
“Um, maybe some more of that chocolate?”
Dweeble grinned. “I noticed that went quickly.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be. It was there to be eaten. Here’s the thing, though.” Dweeble winked at my mom. “I can get the chocolate here, which makes me think, maybe I don’t really need to go.”
I could tell this was another one of his bad jokes, but the thought still scared me.
“Your bags are already in the car, so you may as well,” Mom said, linking her arm through his and dragging him to the door. “Plus, Jason is expecting you.”
“Yes, those are excellent points. And I can see you both want to get rid of me.” Dweeble waved goodbye. “I’ll see you next week, Annabelle.”
“Bye. Have fun. Tell Jason I say hello.”
I worried that was a weird thing to say, since Jason and I didn’t even know each other, but Dweeble grinned and said, “I will.” So maybe it wasn’t so wrong.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the airport with us?” asked my mom.
Like I wanted to witness their sappy good-bye? I don’t think so. “No, thanks.”
“I’ll be home in two hours, max. Hopefully sooner.” Mom seemed nervous about leaving me in the house alone. Did I need to remind her that I was already eleven years old?
“I’ll be fine,” I told her.
As their car pulled out of the driveway, I had to smile. With Dweeble in Switzerland, it meant I’d have seven whole days free of corny jokes. There wouldn’t be any waiting for Dweeble to go running before we could eat dinner. Nor would I have to put up with his lousy music.
Once they were gone, I tried calling Rachel. When Jackson answered, I panicked and hung up, fast.
Then I went up to my room because I promised to clean it before my mom got back. Pepper came too. I brought one of his chew toys with me, so he wouldn’t try eating any of my stuff.
But before I even finished making my bed, the phone rang.
I ran to my desk and picked it up. “Hello?”
“Who’s this?” asked a familiar-sounding boy’s voice.
I replied without thinking. “Annabelle. Who’s this?”
Instead of answering me he asked, “Why are you crank calling our house, Spazabelle?”
Jackson! Ack! How did he know? And what do I do? Could I hang up? I couldn’t just hang up. I had to say something. But what?
I coughed. “I’m not. I didn’t. Um, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about caller ID. We have it. And you just cranked us. So what gives?”
Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I wished this wasn’t happening. I had to say something. I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. “Is Rachel there?”
“Maybe.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“She’s going to be mad when she hears you called and hung up.”
“I didn’t mean to do it.”
“You’re saying you accidentally hung up on me?”
Okay, time to switch tactics. “Was that you on the phone?” I asked innocently. “I thought I dialed wrong so I hung up.”
Boys Are Dogs Page 10
