Loudest Beagle on the Block

by Tui T. Sutherland

  “Your father tells me you girls have been playing with Trumpet this morning,” Mom said to me. I could hear a hint of disapproval in her voice, but Heidi missed it completely.

  “We’re training her!” Heidi said happily. “By the time we’re done, she’s going to be the best dog in the world! Wait and see. She won’t howl or anything.”

  “Hmmm,” Mom said.

  “I want to play soccer with Trumpet!” Isaac shouted suddenly. “I want to play with her! I want —”

  “Here, Isaac, have some of my pancake,” I said, cutting off a corner and dropping it on his plate, which he had practically licked clean already.

  Isaac’s eyes went very wide. “Really?” he said and then dove on it before I could change my mind. His mouth being full made the table quiet again. I raised my eyebrows at Heidi. Her shoulders were shaking with laughter. I had to look away quickly, or I’d have started laughing, too, and then Isaac or Mom and Dad might have figured out that I was using a dog trick on him.

  “Don’t you want to take Trumpet outside after breakfast?” Mom asked Heidi as Dad collected the plates. “Then perhaps Ella could practice for a little while …”

  “Glenda,” my dad said in a warning voice.

  “She is going to practice!” Heidi said. “That’s step two of the training. We’re going to make Trumpet be quiet while Ella sings.”

  “Well,” Mom said skeptically, “that would be nice.”

  Once we were back in the music room, Heidi said, “You know, I think your mom might be more like my mom than I realized.” So perhaps she did pick up on some of the disapproval.

  “She just needs to warm up to Trumpet,” I said, burying my hands in the dog’s fur. “She’s never had a dog before.”

  “Me neither,” Heidi said. “But I’m ready for one! I really am!”

  “Maybe we can convince her,” I said. “Let’s try part two of the training.”

  Heidi explained her plan to me. The idea was to distract Trumpet before she started singing along with me. Heidi was hoping that she could get Trumpet to focus on her and food while I sang, so she’d be quiet.

  “This is going to take more than regular treats,” Heidi said. “This is going to require … meatballs!”

  Trumpet leaped to her feet again when she saw me reach for the Tupperware. She actually remembered the smell that had come from there. She stared at the container with laser intensity. Heidi took it and led Trumpet across the room. I sat down at the piano and played a chord. Trumpet glanced back at me, but then Heidi opened the Tupperware, and Trumpet’s head whipped around toward her.

  “Sit,” Heidi said, making the hand signal. I kept playing. Trumpet sat and got a piece of meatball. “Go ahead,” Heidi whispered. I started to sing.

  Trumpet was definitely torn. She took a few steps toward me, lifting her head and squeak-growling a little. But Heidi waved another piece of meatball at her, and Trumpet caved. She hurried back to Heidi’s feet and sat down.

  We were able to get through a whole song like that, although it cost us almost all the meatballs.

  “Well, it’s something,” Heidi said cheerfully. “Hopefully, eventually she’ll be able to sit and focus for longer and longer, and then you can make her sit for a whole song, totally quietly, just so she can get a reward at the end.”

  “That’ll be a miracle,” I said.

  “So what about the talent show?” Heidi asked. “Have you chosen a song?”

  “Well … I have an idea,” I said slowly. “I thought of it last night, going through Dad’s old stuff. But it’s kind of crazy.” It wasn’t like anything I’d ever done before. But nothing I’d done before had ever won. Maybe it was time to try something new.

  “I love crazy!” Heidi interjected.

  “And I kind of need some help with it.”

  “I can help!” Heidi said right away. Trumpet barked, like she was saying I want to help, too!

  “Are you sure?” I said to Heidi. “Even if it means being on stage?”

  Heidi went a little pale. She wound a strand of strawberry-blond hair around her finger. “Um … tell me more,” she said.

  “We’re also going to need another girl,” I said. “Do you know anyone who would want to perform with us? Preferably someone who can sing a little.”

  “Rory,” Heidi said promptly. “She’s always wanted to be in the talent show, but she can never think of anything to do. She’d be all over this.”

  “Really?” I said. “Rory Mason? In the talent show?” I didn’t think Rory Mason was interested in anything but sports. She’s a lot like Heidi, but shorter and louder and bossier and totally fearless. I heard that last summer she skateboarded off the top of the library steps on a dare and broke her leg. And in fourth grade she did cartwheels all the way down the hall and got yanked into Vice Principal Taney’s office. That was also on a dare. I guess we could have dared her to be in the talent show. Then she’d definitely do it.

  “I’ve heard her sing,” Heidi said. “We had a karaoke slumber party once at Virginia’s house. She’s really good! I mean, obviously not as good as you, but I bet you’d be surprised.”

  I would be surprised. I didn’t think someone could be good at sports and singing. But if Heidi thought it was a good idea …

  “OK,” I said, “let’s ask her.”

  I brought Heidi the portable telephone and she dialed Rory’s number. She knew it by heart, which made me realize that they must hang out a lot. I hoped Heidi would still be my friend, even with Rory around. I hoped they wouldn’t laugh at me like Tara and Natasha.

  “Rory!” Heidi said into the phone. “Whatcha doing? Oh, I should have guessed that.” She looked at me. “Rory’s playing catch with her dad. Of course! What?” she said back into the phone. “Oh, I’m with Ella. We’re playing with her dog. I know! You have to meet her! She’s the cutest thing! I mean Trumpet, not you,” she said to me. “I mean, you’re cute, too, but Trumpet wins. What? Well, that’s why I’m calling, knucklehead. We want you to come over. Ella has an idea for the talent show. No, for all of us! I know! It is exciting! Get your butt over here!” Heidi told her my address.

  It turned out Rory’s house was only a couple of streets away. It wasn’t even ten minutes later when the doorbell rang and Trumpet went berserk. She and Heidi and I ran out to the living room, but my mom was already opening the door.

  Rory was on the front steps, panting. She looked like she had run all the way over. Her long, straight brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail under a dark blue baseball cap with a red B on it. She was wearing a red tank top, khaki shorts, and sneakers. She looked like she had just hurtled out of some kids’ sports magazine. I don’t know if they have those, but if they do, Rory should be on the front cover.

  Trumpet threw herself at Rory’s legs, barking and wagging her tail. Rory crouched down and went, “Oh man! Adorable! Hey buddy!” She tugged lightly on Trumpet’s ears and Trumpet jumped up to lick her face.

  Mom blinked a lot like she was startled. Girls like Rory don’t usually appear on our doorstep. I could sense that she was about to tell Rory that we already bought all our Girl Scout cookies or something.

  “Mom, this is Rory,” I blurted quickly. “She’s here to meet Trumpet.” I wasn’t sure yet what Mom would think of my talent-show plan. I was afraid she wouldn’t like it.

  “Oh,” my mom said. “Oh, that’s — well, lovely —”

  “It’s great!” my dad interrupted, bounding into the room. “Nice to meet you! Come on in! Have you eaten breakfast? We have some pancakes left over.”

  “Thanks, I’m all good,” Rory said. She stood up again and Trumpet immediately tried to jump up into her arms.

  “We’ll be in the music room,” I said quickly. “Trumpet, come on!”

  “All right,” Mom said, “but don’t forget you need to practice, Ella — the talent show is on Friday.”

  “That’s what we’re —” Rory started to say.

  “I remember!�
� I shouted over her. “Got it! No problem! Thanks, Mom!” I grabbed Rory’s arm, Heidi grabbed the other, and we dragged her off to the music room before she could say anything else. Trumpet chased after us, barking with excitement.

  “OK,” Rory said, rubbing her head as I flung the door shut behind us. “Confused.”

  Trumpet sprawled out on the rug, panting and looking very pleased with herself. Her white paws and brown patches glowed in the sunshine pouring through the windows.

  “It’s a surprise for Ella’s mom and dad,” Heidi said. “They don’t know what we’re doing. Then again, I don’t know what we’re doing either.”

  “Hey, this is cool,” Rory said, looking around. “You really do have a music room. I thought that was only in, like, old mansions and stuff. Whoa, check out all these albums.” She picked up a Shangri-Las single from the top of the stack of my dad’s albums. I’d brought them down last night and put them on the bookcase. “This is really old!”

  “Tell us your idea, Ella!” Heidi begged. “I’m dying to hear it.”

  “Yeah, totally,” Rory said. She sat down on the floor and rubbed Trumpet’s stomach. Trumpet’s tail thumped on the floor.

  “Well, you remember what won last year, right?” I said.

  “No,” Rory said. “I thought you won. Didn’t you? You were the best.”

  “Yeah, but it was Delia and her friends doing that Hannah Montana song, right?” Heidi said.

  “Exactly,” I said, “and they weren’t even really singing. They were lip-synching. So we’re going to do something like that, but even better, because we’ll be really singing.”

  “Uh-oh,” Heidi said. “That counts me out.”

  “No, wait till you hear it,” I said. “It’s going to be really funny. Hang on, though; we don’t have enough meatballs for this, so I gotta get rid of Trumpet first. Just for a minute.” I took one of Heidi’s treats and lured Trumpet out of the room behind me. She trotted happily up to Isaac’s room with me.

  “Isaac?” I said, knocking on the door. He was sitting at his desk, playing a game on his computer. His floor was covered in trucks and clothes and action figures and sneakers and crumpled magazines. His soccer sheets were shoved to the bottom of his bed and his pillows were both on the floor. One of his posters was coming unstuck from the wall and drooping toward the floor. The room looked like Bigfoot had been living in it for the last year.

  “Private! No trespassing!” he yelled as I stuck my head in. “No girls allowed!”

  “But Trumpet’s a girl,” I pointed out. Trumpet trotted into the room happily and started poking her nose into the piles of dirty laundry on the floor.

  “Well — but —” Isaac sputtered.

  “You wanna play with her outside?” I asked.

  He squinted at me. “No.”

  “But you did before!” I said. “You can have her now! All to yourself! You guys can play soccer!”

  Isaac crossed his arms. “Maybe I don’t want to anymore,” he said.

  “Isaac!” I stamped my foot. “You are so annoying!”

  “You’re so annoying!” he yelled.

  Of course, that brought Dad out of his room. “What’s going on in here?” he demanded.

  “I was just offering to let Isaac play with Trumpet for a while,” I said sweetly.

  “She just wants me to keep the dog busy!” Isaac said. “She’s not really being nice!”

  “I wouldn’t mind playing some soccer,” Dad said. “I was going to mow the lawn, but playing with Trumpet sounds like a lot more fun. Oh, well, too bad you don’t want to join us, Isaac.”

  Isaac perked up. “Wait — I’ll play if you’re playing.”

  “No, no,” Dad said. “We wouldn’t want to interrupt what you’re doing. I’ll just go hang out with Trumpet by myself.”

  “I’ll come!” Isaac shouted. “I want to!” He dove into a pile of laundry, digging for his shoes. Trumpet thought this was a wonderful game and tried to help by digging alongside him. She found one of his socks and shook it ferociously. Isaac tried to grab it away and soon there was a sock tug-of-war going on.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I whispered. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I hurried back to Rory and Heidi.

  Once we were sure Trumpet was distracted outside, I told them my idea. First I played them the original song, which I had downloaded from the Internet. Then I played it on the piano and told them which parts they would do and how it would look. Then I told them the final piece — the part that would bring it all together and make it the funniest talent-show performance ever.

  My heart was going really fast. “What do you think?” I asked. I had this terrible feeling they would hate it. I was afraid they would say, “That’s stupid,” and leave. I imagined them telling everyone at school how dumb I was and what terrible ideas I had.

  Heidi started laughing. “I love it!” she said. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard!”

  “Me too!” Rory said. “Wow, I’m going to be in the talent show! Finally!”

  “And we’re going to win!” Heidi cried, pumping her hands in the air.

  The hardest part was keeping our plan a secret. I knew it would only be funny if people weren’t expecting it. So Heidi and Rory and I swore ourselves to secrecy. Even when Nikos asked me at school on Monday whether I’d picked a song to do, I just smiled and said, “I’m working on it.”

  I did tell Mrs. Mehta at my lesson, though, because I wanted her help with the piano part. It wasn’t very difficult in the book I had, but I wanted to make sure I was doing it right and I thought I could change a couple of things to make it sound cooler. She was really surprised by my choice.

  “This is quite unlike you, Ella,” she said. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather do ‘Alhambra’?”

  “I’m sure,” I said. “I think this’ll be fun. But don’t tell my parents, OK? I want to surprise them.”

  “Oh, they’ll be surprised,” Mrs. Mehta said.

  I was lucky Kamala wasn’t there to hear me practice the song. I had a feeling she couldn’t keep a secret. Pradesh might have heard me playing from upstairs, but he didn’t come out and he didn’t say anything about it later. I was pretty sure he wasn’t really interested.

  On Tuesday afternoon I went over to Heidi’s so we could practice. Her family had a piano in what her mother called the “company room.” That meant that her parents usually only used that room when they had fancy guests. Everything in it was very clean and very white and very delicate-looking. Heidi seemed terrified the whole time we were in there. She didn’t want to move too much in case she knocked something over. She stood very still right in the center of the rug, practically holding her breath. Her mother seemed to have the same worry, because she kept walking by the doorway. We could tell she was trying to watch us without being too obvious about it.

  So on Thursday we went to Rory’s to practice, even though Rory didn’t have a piano; she only had a Casio keyboard. But it was enough to practice with. We went through the song over and over again. I was surprised that Heidi and Rory didn’t mind how much I wanted to practice it.

  Heidi might even have wanted to practice more than I did. She was really afraid of doing it wrong. I caught her in the hall at school on Thursday doing the motions and muttering the words.

  “Heidi, don’t worry!” I said. “It’s only a few lines. You’ll be awesome.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she said. “I bet you’ve never fallen off a stage in your life.”

  “Neither have you, and you’re not going to start tomorrow night,” I said. “Besides, Rory will catch you if you start to teeter. You know how strong she is.”

  “That’s true!” Heidi said.

  And after rehearsing, Rory and Heidi came over and walked Trumpet with me. This helped Heidi relax. She liked to take Trumpet’s leash and race ahead down the street with Trumpet at her heels, barking and yipping.

  We also kept working on Trumpet’s training. By Friday, she could sit and sta
y for a whole three minutes. She wasn’t exactly perfect about not singing, however. I still had to give her a treat every thirty seconds if I wanted her to shut up while I sang.

  I wasn’t worried about that yet, though. First I would make it through the talent show. Then I’d focus on training Trumpet really well.

  My mom came into my room Thursday night. I was in bed reading Shiloh, which Mr. Peary had decided was an acceptable substitute for Old Yeller. Trumpet was curled up next to me. She had her nose buried in the little space between my back and the pillow. Her ears were flopped back inside out. Sometimes her paws twitched in her sleep, and she made whuffling growling noises like she was dreaming about chasing a soccer ball.

  Mom raised her eyebrows a little when she saw Trumpet on the bed, but she didn’t say anything about it. Instead she sat down on the bed next to me. Trumpet’s ear twitched, but she kept sleeping.

  “Are you ready for the talent show?” Mom asked. “I feel like I haven’t heard you play in days.”

  “I have been playing,” I said. “I practiced at Heidi’s and Rory’s houses, and with Mrs. Mehta. I’m ready.” I tugged on a bit of feather that was sticking out of my comforter. “I hope you like it, Mom.”

  “Of course I will, sweetie,” Mom said. “I liked both songs when I heard you play them before.”

  “I’m not doing one of those songs,” I said. “I’m doing something different.”

  “Oh,” Mom said. “Really? What is it?”

  “It’s a surprise,” I said.

  “Oh,” Mom said again, smoothing out a wrinkle on my pillow. “Well, I’m sure I’ll like it.”

  “Mom,” I said, “I want to keep Trumpet.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mom said. She took off her glasses and rubbed them with her shirt. “I was afraid of this.”

  “She’s not really a bad dog,” I said. “She means to be good.” I patted Trumpet’s back. Trumpet wriggled around so her paws flopped onto my leg and I could scratch her belly. “I promise to keep training her and I promise I’ll still practice and I know she can be a good dog and — and I really like her.”