by Annie Bryant
“I’ve never been to New York,” Isabel said wistfully. “I hear that the Metropolitan Museum of Art is to die for.” Isabel, who loved everything having to do with art—from painting to collage to cartooning—had already fallen in love with the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. She had seen a Gauguin and Monet exhibit, and couldn’t wait to see the new photography exhibit at the Institute of Contemporary Art. Her eyes lit up at the very thought of two days of museum hopping in New York. “I want to live in the city someday,” she said. “Maybe I’ll be a famous artist and you all can come to my opening at some amazing gallery.”
“We’ll be there,” enthused Maeve. “And, we’ll be your most loyal fans. Right, girls?” Katani, Charlotte, and Avery nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Just stay away from Yankee Stadium,” Avery advised, referring to her beloved Red Sox’s archrivals.
Charlotte laughed. It was so funny to hear her friends’ reactions—clearly each having very different ideas about how she should spend her weekend! “There’s only one problem,” she told them. “What am I going to do with Marty while we’re away? It’s only for two days and one night, but he can’t possibly stay by himself.”
There was silence as everyone thought about this. Marty was adored by all the girls, even Katani, who was an admitted “kitty-kat girl.”
“I guess he can’t really go with you,” Katani said.
“The hotel doesn’t take dogs,” Charlotte told her. “Besides, how am I supposed to go to all the places you’re recommending with Marty in tow?”
“Marty, the traveling dog,” Isabel giggled. “Just picture him hopping up the steps of the Met.”
“Marty does Wall Street,” Katani added with a grin. “He’d need a tie, of course. And a briefcase.”
“No, better yet,” Avery blurted. “Keep him in a doggie sport tote, with his head popping out every once in a while!”
“Very Elle Woods,” mused Maeve.
“Why can’t Miss Pierce take care of him?” Avery asked. The Ramseys lived in a big yellow house on Summit Avenue—a two-family Victorian that they shared with Sapphire Pierce, their landlady. She was retired from her lifelong career as an astronomer. She and Charlotte loved having tea together sometimes in the afternoons. Charlotte was fascinated by her work on the Hubble telescope, and Miss Pierce liked hearing about the same junior high school where she’d been a student years ago. Miss Pierce was fond of Marty, and it seemed like a good suggestion.
But Charlotte was shaking her head. “She can’t take care of Marty this weekend. We already checked with her,” she said. “She’s got something going on and she said she was going to be too busy to look after him.”
The five girls looked at each other, concerned. Katani frowned. “What’s she doing? She is always ready to take care of Marty. Is she sick?”
“No, I don’t think so,” answered Charlotte. “She just couldn’t do it. I have to admit I was a little curious myself. I thought maybe she was going on a trip or something, but she’s so shy and hasn’t been anywhere for so long. The whole thing is a little strange.”
“I’d love to take Marty,” Isabel piped in. “But Aunt Lourdes is NOT a pet person. I think it’s hard enough for her, sharing her apartment with Mom and Elena Maria and me.” Isabel’s young aunt, a nurse, was helping to take care of Isabel and her ninth-grade sister, and guiding Isabel’s mother through treatment for her multiple sclerosis. “You know how strict Aunt Lourdes is, and what a neat freak too,” Isabel added. “Besides, we barely have enough room for the four of us. Marty would have to stay in the closet.” All of them howled at the vision of Marty in a closet. There would be nothing left standing after Marty had his way. Plus, Marty would be too lonely. He loved to be held and cuddled, and he was used to sleeping with Charlotte—sometimes sneaking under the covers on a cold night. Poor Marty!
“Count me out, too,” Katani said with a sigh. “My mom wants us all to head up to visit Candice at college this weekend.” She shook her head. “You know my sister. She’s already been voted MVP of her field hockey team and she’s barely been there one season. Mom wants to take Patrice, Kelley, and me up there to watch her game.”
The Summers were a very tight family, and they often did things together on the weekends.
Everyone turned to Maeve. “I can’t,” Maeve said. “My mom says she has an interview, I’m not sure what for, but she asked me to look after Sam in the afternoon.” Spending time with Sam, her pesky little brother, was not exactly her favorite thing to do. She made a face. “Besides, dogs freak Sam out. Go figure—he’ll watch the goriest war movie ever made, but when he SEES a dog, he acts like a basket case.”
Charlotte was looking worried. “Okay,” she said finally. “Maybe Miss Pierce will have an idea of someone who can dog-sit. Or my dad can ask around in his department at B.U. There must be someone who can watch him.”
Avery couldn’t stand the thought of this a minute longer. “We can’t let a perfect stranger watch Marty. You know how sensitive he is…I’ll take care of him!”
“Avery,” Katani said warningly. “Your mom’s allergic.”
“And,” Charlotte pointed out, “didn’t she say no when you asked if you could have Marty at your house before?”
“What if I put him in the carriage house? She never goes in there,” Avery said.
The girls exchanged glances.
“I don’t know, Avery. We don’t want you to get in trouble with your mom. Right?” asked Charlotte, looking toward Katani.
“I’ll keep him hidden. We don’t really use our carriage house, so I can make a bed for him in there,” Avery insisted. When everyone looked questioningly at her, she added, “I promise. He won’t be in anyone’s way. Anyway, my mom isn’t even going to be around much this weekend! She’s got lots of meetings. She’s planning some kind of big fund-raising event for that boarding school she went to when she was in high school.” Avery’s voice sounded teary. “Come on, guys. Just this once—let me take him!”
The girls looked uncertainly at each other. Avery was so head over heels in love with Marty that she couldn’t always be rational when it came to making plans about him. But they could see that Avery was near tears and that was so unlike her. Avery was tough; she never cried about anything. But Marty was special. After all, she was the one who insisted that all the girls adopt him.
“Avery,” Charlotte said slowly. “What if your mother finds out and gets really mad at you, or at all of us?”
“First of all, she won’t find out. Second of all, even if she does, she can’t get mad because I won’t keep him in the house, where his hair would bother her. Please, guys. Give me a chance. I’ll keep him safe and out of the way in the carriage house. I’ll walk him every day and snuggle with him and play Frisbee. It will be so great and Marty will be with someone who loves him.”
Charlotte didn’t know what to say. Nobody did. They had never seen Avery so…so desperate for something. “Well, if you really think it’ll be okay,” she said at last.
None of the girls could think of a better plan. Someone needed to take care of Marty for the weekend. Maybe Avery was right. Marty hated going to the vet’s and really—how much could possibly go wrong between Friday and Sunday evening?
Just then Nick Montoya walked by the girls’ table. “Hey Charlotte, do you want to go over that Properties of Water experiment that’s due tomorrow before science next period?” he asked casually.
Charlotte could feel her cheeks burn as Nick waited expectantly for an answer. “Sure. I’ll meet you in the lab in a few minutes.”
Charlotte and the other Beacon Street Girls watched him walk off. “Oh, this is so embarrassing,” moaned Charlotte as she placed her hands on her pink cheeks. “I just can’t stop blushing when I see him. It’s a total curse!”
“Somebody needs to invent an anti-blush cream,” stated Katani.
“You could call it Blush Free Forever or BFF for short,” quipped Isabel.
QUEENS OF
MEAN VERSUS YURT…
Suddenly, Dillon and Pete Wexler rushed by the table. “Science lab now! Anna and Joline are chasing Henry Yurt around the lab. He dumped water on Anna’s head, and she’s melting!” he cackled in his best imitation of the Wicked Witch of the West.
Marty was completely forgotten for the moment as the girls and everybody around them ran to catch the drama in the lab. No one wanted to miss it. Luckily the girls were right by the door of the cafeteria because the Yurt versus Anna and Joline story was spreading like wildfire through the cafeteria. The halls were filled with kids running and laughing at the idea of the nerdiest kid in seventh grade being chased around science lab by the school’s “coolest” girls.
Avery was the first of the Beacon Street Girls to reach the door. Nick Montoya was already leaning at the doorway—a big grin plastered on his face. Anna and Joline were standing to one side of the lab bench. Black streaks of mascara dripped down Anna’s face, wet stringy hair ruining her perfect look. Both Anna and Joline were looking like they could take Henry Yurt and bury him alive. Mr. Richardson was glaring at Henry, who was standing on the other side of the lab bench.
Nick gestured to everyone in the hall to be quiet.
“Henry,” Mr. Richardson said. “I think you need to apologize to Anna.”
“I don’t want an apology. I want to sue him. He’s such an idiot. Everyone knows you were supposed to make sure the water was level!” yelled Anna.
“No name calling, Anna. Henry made a mistake. He needs to be more careful about his lab procedures. But first, he needs to apologize and then clean up this mess. Go ahead, Henry. Apologize to Anna.”
Henry mumbled, “Sorry.” He didn’t sound like he meant it.
“That’s not an apology,” scowled Anna. “He’s faking it.”
“I agree, Anna.”
There was a collective gasp in the room. Mrs. Fields had suddenly appeared and was sending all the kids who were peering into the room away.
The Beacon Street Girls were already in the room so they had to wait to file out. That meant they got to see and hear everything.
“Henry,” continued Mrs. Fields. “I want to hear a real Abigail Adams apology.”
Henry looked up. Nobody messed with a Mrs. Fields order. It just wasn’t done. Resigned, Henry managed to squeak out, “Sorry, Anna, for spilling water on your head and making weird black streaks run down your face.”
Both Mr. Richardson and Mrs. Fields looked like they swallowed something sour.
“Now Anna, you need to apologize to Henry for the name calling.”
Anna put her hand on her hips and looked at Mrs. Fields with disbelief. She looked like she was about to say “No way.” But Mrs. Fields’s raised eyebrow seemed to make her change her mind.
In a sickeningly sweet voice she said, “I am sorry, Henry, for calling you an idiot. It’s not your fault that you can’t follow directions and get your act together.”
Mr. Richardson sent Henry on his way, and Mrs. Fields took Anna to her office for cleanup. As Henry walked down the hall, everyone chanted in low tones, “Yurt, Yurt, Yurt.” Henry Yurt would now and forever remain a legend at Abigail Adams Junior High.
CHAPTER 3
Nominated
A.M. WEIRDNESS
Maeve’s mom was acting strange on Friday morning. Usually, she was the only one in the Kaplan-Taylor household who had much energy before eight o’clock. But this morning, she was just sitting with the newspaper spread out in front of her at the kitchen table, looking blankly at the headlines without really reading them. Sam and Maeve were running around trying to get ready, but she wasn’t jumping up to help them the way she always did. Not even when Sam freaked out about where he’d left his homework.
“Where’s Daddy?” Maeve asked, pouring herself some cereal.
“Still asleep,” her mother said absently. “He had a film festival that ran late last night.”
Maeve glanced at her mother. Her voice sounded weird—kind of muffled and distant, like she was thinking about something else. Not her mother’s style at all.
“Maeve? Sam?” her mother said, as Maeve and her little brother were trying to cram everything they could remember that they needed for school into their book bags. “Your dad and I want to take some time this weekend to have a family talk. Can you be sure to be around on Saturday, around dinnertime?”
Maeve stared at her mom. Since when did they make family plans on a Saturday evening? Wasn’t that prime time for hanging out with friends?
“Uh…I don’t know, Mom,” she began. But she stopped when she saw the look on her mother’s face. Clearly this was something serious.
“Nobody’s sick, are they, Mom?” asked Maeve nervously.
“No, honey. No one is sick. But we all need to talk.”
“Okay,” Maeve said. Whatever this was, it sounded non-negotiable.
But what could be going on? What kind of talk did they all need to have?
“How serious?” she asked, suddenly curious.
Her mom wasn’t going to talk about it now, though. That much was clear. “Maeve, it’s time for school. You’ll be late! We’ll talk this weekend,” she said.
Not really reassuring, Maeve thought. She could’ve just said No, nothing serious, and Maeve would’ve been relieved, and that would be that.
Now she had to go off to school wondering what on earth was the matter. Parents could be so frustrating sometimes.
DAYDREAMS AND PRIZES
Isabel, Maeve, Katani, Charlotte, and Avery met at their lockers before homeroom to discuss plans for the big “Marty-Drop.” The girls were going to bring Marty to Avery’s house on Friday evening. “We’ll meet you at your back door and help you get him set up in the carriage house,” Katani said.
“I’ve got all his stuff to bring, too. His water bowl, his leash…” Charlotte began.
“But we’ll have to hide him in something in case anyone’s around,” Maeve pointed out.
“Put him in my soccer bag,” Avery instructed.
“Won’t he suffocate in that thing?” Isabel demanded.
“I didn’t mean to zip it up,” Avery retorted, laughing.
Finally, they had a plan: that evening the four girls would bring Marty and his things over. Marty, the little stowaway, would be hidden in Avery’s soccer bag—unzipped. Meanwhile Avery would set up a warm spot for him in the carriage house, and with any luck, Avery’s mother would be none the wiser—no sneezing or hives, no trace of dog.
The homeroom bell rang, and everyone made their way into Ms. Rodriguez’s classroom, still talking about Marty and how to keep a hyper dog out of sight for a whole weekend. Avery was so excited she could hardly contain herself for the rest of the day. Maeve slid into her desk, taking out her laptop. She was having a hard time concentrating. She was getting more and more preoccupied by what her mom had said. The big family discussion planned for Saturday seemed to be weighing on her mom’s mind. And suddenly it was weighing on Maeve’s, too.
What could be going on?
Maeve fiddled with her pen. It was her favorite—bright pink, with a long feathery plume. Maybe she was the problem. Maeve and her mother hadn’t been getting along so well lately. Maeve’s grades had suffered this year. Seventh grade was so much harder than sixth! It seemed that one week she would do really well in history and then the next week she would forget an assignment. And lately, there’d been friction at home over her grades. Her mom wanted her to be more organized. Her dad, on the other hand, thought Maeve’s mom was too hard on her. He thought—
“Maeve,” Ms. Rodriguez said, with the gentle firmness that suggested it wasn’t the first time she’d said her name. “Are you with us?”
Maeve sat bolt upright, knocking her pen off her desk and onto the floor. A few people laughed, including Anna and Joline. Maeve could feel her cheeks redden. “Uh, sure. I’m—I was just…” Maeve sat up straighter. “Could you repeat the question?” she asked, trying to ignore the superior glan
ce that Betsy was giving her. Betsy Fitzgerald, of course, would never daydream in class. Maeve snatched her pen by its feathery plume, ignoring Betsy’s frown.
“I was just saying,” Ms. Rodriguez continued with a smile, “there is a community service award being given in Brookline. They’re looking for nominations for students who have made special contributions to their communities. And I wanted to let you and the whole class know, Maeve, that you’ve been nominated. Project Thread has made a real difference for the children at Jeri’s Place, and the seventh-grade teachers at Abigail Adams have selected you and your project to represent our school.”
Maeve couldn’t believe her ears. For a minute, she thought she was still daydreaming. But as she looked around at her friends’ smiling faces, she realized that this was actually happening. Inside she was really proud of the way her blanket project had turned out. But she’d never expected to be nominated for an award because of it.
“Whoa, way to go, Maeve!” Avery called out, unable to contain her enthusiasm. On the other side of the room, Katani and Charlotte burst into applause. And behind Charlotte, Isabel gave Maeve an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“Speech! Speech!” yelled Dillon.
Maeve’s blush deepened. She wasn’t used to being singled out like this. The blanket project was something that she’d dreamed up one night, wondering what it would be like to be alone and cold, without best friends for consolation. When she grew up, Maeve was determined that she would always do something for homeless people. The thought of anyone, especially children, being homeless really bothered her.
Whoever would have believed this? Maeve thought now, looking across the homeroom at Katani and Isabel. Talk about proving that teamwork can get the job done! Once Katani stopped worrying about Isabel being a fifth wheel, she threw in her incredible organizational talent, and the blanket project really got off the ground.
“Ms. Rodriguez,” Maeve said slowly, “I—thanks so much, that’s so great, but I wanted to say that I don’t think it should just be ME getting nominated. It took a whole group of us to get this to happen.” She glanced appreciatively around the room at her friends.
