Anyway, all of you seem really great, and I’m sure there are tons of guys out there (who aren’t twelve-year-old girls pretending to be guys) who would love to go on dates with you! Maybe some of you have found The One already. . . . I really hope so! And if you haven’t, I hope you do soon.
Sorry again, and please forgive me!
Sincerely,
Ella
22
Two Sundays later, I tell my dad I have a surprise for him.
We get in the car, and I program the address into my phone so the GPS can guide us to the right place. “I appreciate that you agreed to come out with me today even though you don’t know where we’re going and you’d probably rather stay home,” I say, because Dr. Obasanjo told us we should use positive reinforcement to let each other know when we’ve handled situations well. That made sense to me right away; it’s like giving treats to Elvis when he follows a command.
“I appreciate that you appreciate it and that you’re telling me so,” Dad says, and we both snicker, because even though it’s helpful, the whole thing also feels a bit ridiculous.
Dr. Obasanjo is actually the one who sparked the idea for today’s surprise. She suggested that Dad and I find a new activity we can do together, something that will build trust. At first she wanted us to go to a climbing gym, but Dad shot that idea down immediately, which was the right call—he would probably fall off the wall in five seconds and throw his back out, and that wouldn’t help anyone. He came up with a plan to teach me guitar so we could play duets and sing together, and I still want to do that too. But this is even better. I know Dad’s going to love it, and Dr. Obasanjo’s going to be super proud of me for thinking of it.
We pull up to the bright blue house with the white shutters, and I say, “This is it, right here. You can park in the driveway.”
Dad does, and we pull in behind the red hatchback that’s already there. “Whose house is this?” he asks.
I smile mysteriously. “You’ll see.”
He turns off the car and stares me down. “You’re not trying to set me up with another woman, are you?”
I snort. “This is way better than a girlfriend. Just wait.”
Anjali opens the door the second I ring the bell, like she was waiting for me. “Ella!” she cries, pulling me into her arms. “How are you, babe?”
“Good,” I say. “This is my dad, David. Dad, this is Anjali. She’s Krishnan’s sister.”
A guarded look comes over Dad’s face, but he holds out his hand to Anjali politely, and she shakes it. “Krishnan’s not here,” I say. “Don’t worry, that’s not the surprise. Come in.”
I struggle out of my purple puffy coat, and Anjali takes it, along with my dad’s green parka. “You can go on back,” she says to me with a wink, and I don’t have to be told twice. I take Dad by the hand and pull him through the yellow living room, down the orange hall, past the coral bathroom, and open up the door to the purple study.
“Dad,” I say, “meet Minerva and her puppies.”
Minerva’s sprawled out on a huge dog bed in the center of the room like a queen on her throne; she yawns in my direction as she nurses three of the puppies. Another one is sniffing around under Anjali’s desk, trying to figure out a way to tip over the heavy trash can, and the fifth one—the best one—is by the couch, gnawing on a plush squirrel toy and trying to show the world how incredibly fierce she is. She has on the purple collar I got her.
“That’s Molly, Luna, and Neville,” I say, pointing to the nursing puppies—they all look kind of the same, but I could tell them apart right from the very beginning. “That one over there with the white feet is Albus. And this is my Hermione.”
I scoop her up and kiss the heart shape on her velvety head, and she wriggles and licks my nose until I squeal. “Who’s a good girl?” I ask in that stupid voice that automatically comes out of your mouth whenever you see a baby animal. “Who’s the best girl? Is it you?” Hermione makes a tiny high-pitched squeak—her attempt at barking—and it’s so ridiculously cute that I can’t even deal.
I offer her to my dad. “You want to hold her?”
Dad’s eyes are all soft and melty, and he immediately reaches out to take the squirming puppy from me. “Oh my god, she’s so tiny,” he says as he cradles her in one arm, and Hermione’s tail goes nuts as he scratches her belly.
“She’s the cutest dog in the world, right?” I ask.
Dad rubs one of her ears between his fingers, and Hermione pushes her tiny nose into his hand and licks his fingers. “I’ve seen a lot of cute dogs,” he says. “But I’ve gotta say, this might actually be the cutest dog in the world.”
“So, um . . .” I bite my lip and twist my hoodie sleeve around my finger, suddenly nervous. “Do you think you’d maybe want her to live at your house, when she’s ready to leave Minerva in another month? I thought it would be cool if we could take her to obedience classes and teach her tricks together. And maybe she’d be good company on the days I’m at Mom’s. She wouldn’t expect you to talk if you wanted to be all introvert-y.”
It’s like Dad’s eyes light up from the inside; I can’t remember the last time I saw him this excited, and I can tell he’s completely head over heels in love with my dog already. “Really? You don’t want to train her with Krishnan? I thought he was supposed to be the expert.”
“I don’t need an expert,” I say. “I’ll ask Krishnan for tips if I need them, but I really want to do this with you. If that’s okay.”
“That’s . . . that would be more than okay. I would love that.” Dad holds out the arm that isn’t holding my dog—our dog—and I snuggle up against his side, making a Hermione sandwich. She squeaks again and chews on the drawstring of my sweatshirt, but she doesn’t seem to mind so much.
Anjali comes in and laughs when she sees us all huddled up together. “I see Hermione made a new friend,” she says.
“He said yes!” I tell her.
“I’m not surprised. Who could resist that face?” She claps Dad on the shoulder and says, “Congratulations, Papa. She can go home with you guys after New Year’s.”
Dad smiles down at Hermione, and then he beams at me, and when he says, “I can’t wait,” it seems like he really means it.
Anjali reaches in and gives Hermione a good scratch behind the ears, and her back leg paws the air like crazy. “It’s too early to tell for sure, but I think she’s going to make an excellent show dog. Great coloring. Good bone structure. If you start training her early, she can enter her first competition when she’s six months old. You may have a winner on your hands.”
Part of me thrills at the prospect, and my head floods with images of parading around the ring with my perfect dog, who does exactly what I want without even having to be told. I picture myself collecting ribbon after ribbon, making it to the finals at the National Dog Show or Westminster.
But then I think about all the things Ms. McKinnon and I talked about the other day. I could do everything exactly right and never win a single show. I could spend countless hours training Hermione and never achieve that mind-meld I want. She’s a living creature with millions of neurons and her own personality, not an experiment I can control. And if I’m honest with myself, maybe training her to stand still for a judge and run certain patterns flawlessly isn’t the most fun thing I could be doing with her. It’s possible I liked the idea of bending everything to my will until I won better than I liked the actual competing and practicing. Hermione and I could stand in a ring every weekend, rigid and well-behaved . . . or we could spend that time playing Frisbee and rolling around in the dirt, wild and free and chaotic, without any rules hemming us in.
Just like Dad told me, there are lots of ways to have a happy life.
After trying to control everything for so long, it’s scary to let go of the reins. The hardest thing in the world for me to do is nothing. But maybe for once it might be best to step back and let the unexpected in.
“Ella?” Anjali says again. “
What do you think?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Maybe someday, when she’s grown up. For now I just want to . . . see what she’s going to become, you know? It’s a total mystery, and I’m not sure it’s right to try to control her. I think I should let her be who she is.”
Anjali looks confused. But my dad locks eyes with me and smiles, and I know I’ve said the right thing.
The two of us—the three of us—are going to be okay.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Infinite tail wags of gratitude to the following people, who were instrumental in the creation of this book:
My editor, Amy Cloud. Amy is my Saint Bernard, the ultimate rescue dog renowned for its soundness of mind. Whenever I get stuck, she’s there to dig me out of the snow with her insightful notes and friendly encouragement.
My agent, Holly Root. Holly is my Border collie, tirelessly herding humans and contracts and payments without letting a single member of the flock stray. Collies are known for their ability to work extremely long hours on uneven terrain, which is pretty much the definition of a good agent.
My beta readers: Lindsay Ribar, Michelle Schusterman, Jen Malone, Heidi Schulz, and Claire Legrand. These women are my standard poodles, a breed renowned for its extreme intelligence and general delightfulness as companions. I don’t know what I’d do without them, as a writer or as a person.
My whole team at Aladdin, who makes my books look gorgeous and works so hard to release them into the world. They are my Siberian huskies, the sled dogs who function seamlessly as a group and always get their cargo to its destination safely.
Angela Li, my cover artist. Angela is my German shepherd, a breed lauded for its hard work and boundless adaptability. This is the third cover she has drawn for me, and the style is always just right for the substance.
My copy editors, Kayley Hoffman and Beth Adelman. Copy editors are the terriers of the publishing world, working long and hard to catch and kill all the vermin in a manuscript. There’s not a single rat left in this book because of your handiwork.
Steve Berns, Joseph Ingram, and Tricia Ready, my Chesapeake Bay retrievers. Chessies are known for their helpful nature during hunts and search and rescue missions, and these three friends fetched me so much invaluable information about dog shows and spaniels.
Melissa Sarno and Renee Lasher, my Cardigan Welsh corgis. Corgis were developed to be companion dogs, and Melissa and Renee kept me company at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show as I took endless notes and petted endless furry heads.
All my incredibly supportive friends, my Cavalier King Charles spaniels. These dogs are often called “comforter spaniels” because they’re so devoted and loving. I needed a lot of support and encouragement while writing this book, and they were always there for me.
Susan Cherry and Erica Kemmerling, my family and fellow red-haired Irish setters. These dogs are known for being sweet-natured, active, and independent, and if that doesn’t describe these two women, I don’t know what does.
And last but not least, George Harrison, my favorite Welsh springer spaniel. (This one’s literal.)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alison Cherry is the author of the middle-grade novels The Classy Crooks Club and Willows vs. Wolverines and the young-adult novels Red, For Real, and Look Both Ways. She also cowrote Best. Night. Ever. and The Pros of Cons. She is a professional photographer and spent many years working as a lighting designer for theater, dance, and opera productions. Despite her fascination with the world of dog shows, she has always been a cat person. Visit her online at alisoncherrybooks.com.
ALADDIN
SIMON & SCHUSTER, NEW YORK
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Check out these other books by Alison Cherry!
The Classy Crooks Club
Willows vs. Wolverines
Best. Night. Ever. (with coauthors)
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALADDIN
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First Aladdin hardcover edition September 2018
Text copyright © 2018 by Alison Cherry
Jacket illustration copyright © 2018 by Angela Li
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Cherry, Alison, author.
Title: Ella unleashed / Alison Cherry.
Description: New York : Aladdin, 2018. | Summary: “Twelve-year-old Ella juggles her desire to become a dog show champion and her secret mission to find a girlfriend for her single father, only to learn neither dog nor dad readily bends to her will”— Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018006333 |
ISBN 9781534412125 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781534412149 (eBook) |
Subjects: | CYAC: Fathers and daughters—Fiction. | Single-parent families—
Fiction. | Divorce—Fiction. | Dogs—Fiction. | Dog shows—Fiction. | Dating services—Fiction. | Science—Methodology—Fiction. |
BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Animals / Dogs. | JUVENILE FICTION /
Family / Marriage & Divorce. | JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Friendship.
Classification: LCC PZ7.C41987 Ell 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018006333
Ella Unleashed Page 16
