Totally Middle School

by Totally Middle School- Tales of Friends, Family

  Everyone thumped their palms against the desks. The sound matched the pitter-patter of the raindrops.

  “One hundred and eighty-three dollars!” Tarek shouted.

  The group cheered. Lucy high-fived Sudipta, then recorded the number in her notepad.

  “We also want to congratulate William for being the highest earner,” Grace said. “His lemon bars sold out.”

  Not only had they sold out, but Lucy had watched as customer after customer gave William more than $1.13 for each bar. “Keep the change,” over and over.

  Lucy huffed. She wasn’t sure whether she was more irked that he’d earned so much money or that she’d been sort of wrong about his weird pricing strategy.

  She looked at him. In fact, the whole group had turned to look at him—but he wasn’t paying attention. He was slouched in his seat, staring at his phone and tapping the screen with both thumbs, like he was playing a game.

  Grace cleared her throat. “Great job, William,” she said loudly.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, without taking his eyes off his phone.

  Tarek and Grace turned toward each other and shrugged.

  “We’re going to Way Station this Saturday to deliver the donation,” said Tarek. “If you want to come, take a permission slip for your parents to sign.”

  The stack of slips went around the room, each person taking one. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw William straighten up when he read the paper.

  “We’re going to the shelter?” he asked, putting down his phone.

  “That’s what I just said,” Tarek answered.

  William sat forward. “To help with the animals?”

  “No. We’re just going to drop off the donation.”

  “But we should volunteer while we’re there.”

  “We’ve gone down that route before,” Grace said. “Last year, we asked if we could volunteer as a group. But we’re not old enough—you have to be over eighteen. Some of the animals are dangerous, and the shelter doesn’t want any kids getting hurt.”

  William scowled. “It shouldn’t matter how old I am. I—I just want to help the animals.” He picked up his phone again and clutched it tightly.

  “We are helping,” said Grace. “The shelter always needs money.”

  Mr. Mendoza spoke then. “William, would you like me to explain it to you in greater detail?”

  “In the hallway again,” William said with a sigh. He got up and followed Mr. Mendoza out the door.

  Lucy, whose eyes had been ping-ponging between the club copresidents and William, shifted her gaze back to her notepad. Surreptitiously, she drew a quick picture of a grumpy cat with a puckered mouth and a collar that said William. She wrote What a sourpuss! underneath, then slid the notepad toward Sudipta, who stifled a giggle.

  “Don’t be mean,” Sudipta whispered.

  Lucy shrugged, but she scribbled out the drawing.

  Mr. Mendoza and William came back in. The club members spent the rest of the meeting making a big card to accompany the donation. William sat quietly, staring at his phone.

  As Lucy set to work cutting out pictures of animals printed from the Internet, she thought about how the staff at the shelter would react to receiving their donation. They would probably want to get a group photo with the club. Maybe they would do a story for their website. Or put the club members’ names on the Wall of Donors.

  Hopefully William wouldn’t find a way to ruin the experience.

  Deep in my bones, I could feel thunder coming.

  The rain was clattering against the house. When Lucy got home, she was soaked from head to toe.

  I greeted her at the door. Alpha Mom, who was in her office, yelled something about changing out of her wet clothes before she caught a cold.

  Sometimes Alpha Mom knows things even when she’s not in the room. Like that time I got into the kitchen garbage. (Humans throw out perfectly good food all the time. It’s tragic.) I swore I was being quiet, but a couple of digs into the bin and she screamed, “I DON’T THINK SO, BUDDY!” from the other side of the house.

  It’s like she has more sets of eyes than a wolf pack.

  I followed Lucy upstairs and jumped onto her bed, waiting for my cuddles. After she changed, she sat next to me and scratched behind my ears. I stepped into her lap.

  She smelled normal, just like my Lucy, but I could tell that her emotions were mixed: half excited, half anxious and irritated. When she was younger, her moods were straightforward: happy, sad, angry, scared. Over the last year or so, I’d noticed that her feelings were sometimes more complex. I understood that it was part of her getting older.

  But my approach to lifting her spirits had not changed. I started kissing her face.

  I felt her body relax, releasing some of that anxiety and irritation.

  It was working! More kisses!

  And then she laughed—my favorite sound in the world.

  * * *

  —

  Lucy and Sudipta found seats together in the minibus. Ten of the twelve club members were making the trip, but the noise level sounded more like fifty kids. Even sitting side by side, Lucy had to raise her voice so Sudipta could hear her.

  “A hundred eighty-three dollars is a lot!” she hollered.

  “I know!” Sudipta shouted back. “I hope they use some of it to spay cats.”

  Across the aisle, William sat hunched forward with his fingers in his ears and his eyes shut tight. He looked a little peculiar, but Lucy didn’t blame him—it was really noisy. A few moments later, Mr. Mendoza got on the bus and asked for silencio. Everyone quieted down. William sat up straighter and took his fingers out of his ears in obvious relief.

  Lucy knew that Tarek and Grace would be the ones to present the card and the check to the shelter. That was fair; they were the club presidents. But maybe she could stand right next to them. She had rehearsed something to say to the shelter people if the chance came up.

  We’re proud to support the work you do here.

  She thought it sounded good. Grown-up, but not pompous.

  The shelter was a twenty-minute drive from the school. When the van pulled into the parking lot, everyone piled out, talking excitedly.

  “Quiet, guys,” William said in a loud voice.

  Excuse me? Lucy thought. He’s top earner, so he thinks he can boss us around?

  “Too much noise might upset the animals,” William went on.

  Oh. Well, that’s true.

  Mr. Mendoza held the door open while the club members filed in. They were quieter now, but the group still simmered with excitement in whispers, murmurs, smiles of anticipation.

  A woman with fair skin, blond-streaked hair, and lavender-framed glasses sat at the reception desk. She was talking on the phone.

  “…already fully booked that week. No. No. I’ll let you know if we have a cancellation. That’s the best I can do.”

  She began tapping on her keyboard, then ended the conversation and hung up.

  “Can I help you?” she said, still typing.

  The phone rang again.

  “Way Station Animal Shelter. How can I help you?”

  Lucy saw Grace and Tarek looking at each other uncertainly. She glanced at Mr. Mendoza, who stood at the back of the group, his hands in his pockets. He was clearly not going to take the lead here.

  Everyone waited until the receptionist had hung up the phone again. Then Tarek and Grace stepped forward.

  “Um, we called earlier?” Grace said. “We’re from Douglass Middle School, the Animal Welfare Club.”

  “I’m sorry—you’re from where?” The receptionist looked at her computer screen. “You must have spoken to someone else. There’s nothing on the schedule. What did you want?”

  Her voice was impatient. Lucy was beginning to feel anxious
. This was not how things were supposed to be going.

  “We brought a donation,” Tarek said. He held up the card, and the smaller envelope containing the check.

  “Oh, a donation. Just put it in the box.”

  She pointed at the wall to her right, where there was a large box made of clear plastic with a slot in the top. The box was half full of money. Lucy wondered how much was in there.

  “We just—” Tarek started to say, but then the phone rang again. The receptionist answered it, turning her body away from him and the rest of the club members.

  Tarek shrugged helplessly. He walked to the box and looked at the slot. It was too small for the big card; he had to fold it twice. Their nice card, all creased now. And when the envelope landed inside, it sort of blended in with the other bills.

  Lucy stared at the receptionist, who was putting the latest caller on hold. She felt like she was about to explode.

  We worked so hard, she wanted to yell, and it doesn’t seem like you’re the least bit grateful! That’s the last time we raise money for this place!

  Fists clenched, she held her breath to keep the words from bursting out.

  No group photo.

  No appreciation.

  No chance to say the nice line she had prepared.

  Sudipta looked like she was about to cry. Tarek was shaking his head; Grace’s eyes were narrowed. Lucy could hear unhappy muttering from the other club members. Mr. Mendoza had walked into the middle of the group, a concerned expression on his face.

  The only one who didn’t seem the least bit bothered was William.

  He was staring at a family with a kid who was maybe a third grader. The family had just walked out of a door at the back of the room—and the kid, a girl in a green dress, was pulling a skittish little dog on a leash. The dog looked like a Yorkie that needed a haircut. It seemed reluctant to follow the family, skidding around on the tile floor and whimpering. A newly adopted dog, Lucy guessed.

  The parents stopped at the front desk to ask the receptionist something. Behind them, the girl bent down to try to pick up the Yorkie. It yipped and circled her legs, wrapping the leash around the girl’s knees.

  She spun around and tried again, dipping low and reaching for the dog. It pulled away from her, yanking the leash taut, and its body began to quiver.

  Poor thing, Lucy thought.

  “Stop,” William said. He didn’t say it loud, or mean—just kind of firmly. The girl in the green dress looked up.

  Lucy watched William walk over to her. “I could try,” he said.

  The girl furrowed her brow, a little suspicious, but she nodded.

  William moved so he was facing the same direction as the shivering Yorkie, but he didn’t look at the dog. Then he squatted about three feet away, still without making eye contact, and waited.

  Lucy realized that William was letting the dog come to him—not the other way around. She exchanged a glance with Sudipta, who was standing next to her and watching too.

  Several seconds passed; then the Yorkie let up on the leash slightly, allowing it to slacken. It took one, two, three cautious steps toward William.

  Slowly, William extended his fist. The dog stretched out its neck and sniffed.

  By now the girl’s parents had turned around and were watching, their faces showing surprise and interest.

  The Yorkie licked one of William’s knuckles, then retreated, distancing itself again. It still looked scared, but it wasn’t shaking anymore.

  William looked up at the girl. “He doesn’t want to be touched,” he said. “Just keep him on the lead for now. He’ll let you pick him up when he’s ready.”

  Then he stood and started walking away, hands in his pockets like it was no big deal. The other club members hadn’t seen what happened—they had migrated toward the door, with Mr. Mendoza trying to console everyone.

  Lucy watched William glance over his shoulder at the family and their new dog. She felt a twinge of shame, thinking about how angry she’d been just a minute earlier.

  Sure, handing over the donation hadn’t been as momentous as she had imagined. But raising money had never been about her, or about any of the club members. It was about helping the animals—and William seemed to be the only person who got that part right.

  She took a breath and tried to compliment him, or maybe thank him—she wasn’t sure what to say. “You…I mean, that was—”

  “Time to go,” Mr. Mendoza called, interrupting her. He held the door open again.

  William headed straight over and disappeared outside.

  Lucy followed, her words caught in her throat.

  If I had to choose the best place ever—besides Lucy’s lap—it would be the park.

  That’s what Lucy calls it. “Wanna go to the park?” she says, usually while dangling my leash in her hand.

  Lucy took me there on a day she didn’t have school. It was kind of cold—chilly enough that I figured we might not stay too long. So I had to make the most of it. I said hi to everyone—old friends and new friends, both canine and human. I sniffed and marked as much territory as I possibly could.

  We reached my favorite part of the park—the big empty field with that statue of the lady with the food bowls. And then GUESS who showed up?

  Polly! I barked. Hey, Polly, over here!

  Polly barked back a greeting, but unlike me, she wasn’t straining against her leash. She guided her boy over gently.

  Like I said—super chill.

  Salutations, friend, she said, sniffing my behind. Lovely day for walkies, isn’t it?

  Wagging in agreement, I looked up at Lucy. She had her eyes on Polly’s human—William, that was his name—who was staring at his forearm.

  “I have a new FitGizmo,” he said.

  He hadn’t said hello to Lucy, or waved his hand, or done any of the things that seemed to be the human equivalent of butt-sniffing.

  “It counts the number of steps I take. When I bring Polly to the park, my daily step count goes up by at least seventy percent.”

  Lucy was quiet for a moment. I quieted down, too, and went to sit at her feet—I could tell she was slightly uneasy.

  “That’s cool,” she said at last. “William, I didn’t get a chance to tell you before….At the shelter? When you helped that girl with her dog? That was—really great.”

  I saw William’s eyes flick up to her face. “I like dogs,” he said with a shrug. Then he went back to looking at his arm.

  Another short silence. Lucy’s forehead was a little wrinkled, but she smelled okay.

  “Seventy percent,” she said. “Did you figure that out in your head?”

  William looked up again. This time, his eyes focused on Lucy.

  “Yeah,” he said. “My current average is five thousand thirteen steps a day. On park days it goes up to at least eight thousand five hundred. That’s about a seventy percent increase.”

  Hearing the word park reminded me—we were in the park! This was no time to be sitting still! I gave a short bark and began prancing.

  “Want to let them run around together?” Lucy asked.

  William didn’t reply, but he bent down and unclipped the leash from Polly’s harness while Lucy did the same for me.

  Joy! Freedom! Run, run, RUN!

  I chased Polly. Polly chased me. We ran and leapt and tumbled. It was glorious. I felt like I could run forever.

  At last our humans whistled to us. Panting, we returned to their sides and had our leashes clipped on again.

  Lucy was smiling. “I bet Polly’s step count is a lot bigger on park days too.”

  William tilted his head. “Do you think anyone has ever counted a dog’s steps?”

  Lucy giggled. “I doubt it. Maybe we could try.”

  “Okay. I’ll figure out a way to count t
hem. I always bring Polly to the park on Sunday afternoons. It’ll be interesting to see the differences between their step counts, Polly’s and Kimchi’s.”

  I heard that. My name. I cocked my head.

  Lucy’s eyes met mine. She glanced at Polly, then back at me, and finally up at William. “So…we’ll meet here next week?” she said.

  William and Polly were already walking away. “We come at two o’clock.”

  Lucy knelt down and scratched behind my ears.

  Ooh. Nice. Just a little to the left—no, the other way—aaah. Bliss.

  “I guess that means yes…,” she murmured. She kissed the top of my head. “What do you think? You want to play with Polly again?”

  I licked her cheek.

  Which also meant yes. Now, and always.

  Linda Sue Park is the author of many books for kids, including the Newbery Award winner A Single Shard and the New York Times bestseller A Long Walk to Water. When she was in middle school, she lived with her family in a Chicago suburb; they owned a very smart miniature poodle named Jeffy. She and her coauthor, Anna Dobbin, who also happens to be her daughter, are both dog people. They regret their inability to be cat people due to severe allergies.

  Anna Dobbin is a writer, copy editor, and proofreader. She owns an adorable Italian greyhound named Pintxo. In middle school she played soccer three hundred days a year and also loved singing, reading, and making art.

  Anna is Linda Sue Park’s daughter. “Dog People” is their first professional collaboration.

  David Wiesner is best known as the three-time winner of the Caldecott Medal for his awesome wordless picture books: The Three Pigs, Tuesday, and Flotsam. He also won Caldecott Honors for Free Fall, Sector 7, and Mr. Wuffles! He grew up in New Jersey as the youngest of five kids and has three sisters and a brother (if you look closely at his picture book Hurricane, you will see that the book is dedicated to his siblings and all the art is based on his childhood home and cat, Fuzzy, named Hannibel in the book!). Not surprisingly, drawing was always his passion, along with playing outside, endlessly. He remembers sixth grade as the worst year of his school life, despite being temporarily housed in the high school, with its fully stocked high school art room, memorialized in “Middle School.” Happily, seventh and eighth grades got much better for him. He pursued his passion for visual storytelling at the Rhode Island School of Design. David lives and works outside Philadelphia. He and his wife have two grown children.