The Unlikely Story of a Pig in the City

by Jodi Kendall

  “Hey, that’s really good,” I said. Carlos had been into drawing for as long as I’d known him, but this year he was taking classes at the local Community Center, the same place where my mom worked.

  “Reason number one,” declared Lucy, placing a hand over her heart. “Because Hamlet is officially the Most Adorable Piglet in the World.”

  Fernanda pushed a curl back from her eyes. “I’m not sure that will convince Josie’s dad,” she said thoughtfully. “He’s not really an animal person.”

  I held back a laugh, remembering that one time Fernanda was over for dinner and Dad spilled pasta onto his work shoes and Sugar squeezed underneath the table and starting licking the leather. He had been so grossed out!

  “Then I have reason number two!” Lucy countered, pointing to Sully’s pencil. He pressed it to the notepad, waiting for her idea. “Maybe your dad doesn’t like Sugar, but your mom sure does! What if Sugar’s lonely and needs a furry friend?”

  Our golden retriever was old, and she pretty much napped all day long. I wasn’t sure how lonely she was. But it was true that Mom really liked Sugar, so maybe it was a good strategy.

  “Hamlet’s not really furry,” countered Fernanda.

  “More like a hairy friend,” suggested Carlos. Sully made a note of it in the Case File.

  “Let’s keep thinking,” I said. “I’ve gotta run—I have social studies homework.”

  “Don’t forget about the quiz tomorrow!” Fernanda said, giving me two thumbs-up. She was one of the best students in our class. I nodded.

  Carlos reached for the Case File again, showing Sully about the new techniques he was learning in calligraphy by writing “PIG PIG PIG” over and over again at the top of the page. Sully nodded, and I could tell he was still on the case, busy thinking through more reasons Hamlet should stay on our block. Good—I needed all my friends’ ideas!

  “Josie, I’m coming with you,” Lucy said, skipping to my side. Since she lived past my house and around the corner, it was an unofficial tradition that she walked me to my door after Three Stoops meetings. “See you guys later!”

  As we walked down the block, Hamlet tried to bite at the long leather leash and danced on her hooves. She was as playful as a puppy! When we got to my door, I unzipped my coat pocket, slipping my hand inside the down fabric, searching for the cool metal of the front door key.

  Suddenly, my breath caught in my throat.

  I’d lost my house key.

  Chapter 3

  UNDER LOCK AND KEY

  I checked my pocket again. Usually it wouldn’t be a big deal to get locked out. It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened or anything. But what was a big deal was that I lost the spare key, and it was the only spare key we had. The temperature was dropping and Hamlet trembled from the cold, and since Lucy had to leave soon to be with her family, it’s not like I could just take a pig to her place and stay there without supervision.

  But the biggest reason was that I couldn’t get in trouble with my parents.

  Not now with my gymnastics meet coming up and Hamlet’s life in my hands. If I couldn’t keep track of a house key, they’d never trust me with a pet pig!

  “Lucy,” I said, my voice shaking.

  My best friend’s jaw dropped at my tone. “What is it?”

  “My key! It’s not in my pocket . . .”

  “Oh. Well, check the other one?”

  “But I always use the right one.”

  I slid my hand into my left coat pocket just to be sure. It was empty except for loose coins and a hair tie. I felt my heartbeat skyrocket as I patted down my jeans pockets, too. No sign of the house key.

  “Just knock on the door! You live with like a million people,” said Lucy casually. She scooped Hamlet up into her arms, and the piglet snuggled against her warm coat. “Oh, Hammie’s cold! I’ll warm you up, Hammie.”

  “No one’s home. . . .” I shook my head. “Ellen’s at band practice, Amelia’s at Lou’s house, Mom’s working her shift at the Community Center, Sarah had a PSAT session with friends, and Dad’s getting an oil change for the van. . . .”

  Lucy rubbed noses with Hamlet and giggled. “What about Tom?” she said, still unfazed.

  “Back at school.”

  Lucy was an only child, so she didn’t always understand how things worked in the Shilling family. She lived in calm, and we lived in chaos. There are days when you never have a moment alone, and then there are days like today, when there’s no one around when you need someone.

  I peeked down the block, and from my angle I could see the Three Stoops had already disbanded—not one of our friends was in sight.

  “Oh, Lucy . . .” I said, trying not to cry. “I’m not supposed to take Hamlet out of the backyard. My parents will know that I left the house with her, and I didn’t ask for permission. The only way they’ll let me keep her is if I show them how responsible I am—”

  “Don’t cry, don’t cry!” Lucy’s eyebrows lifted. “Here, hold Hammie. She’ll make you feel better while we talk this out.”

  She transferred the little piglet into my arms. I stroked her ears back, trying to think. Where was that key? Hamlet lifted her snout into the air, catching a scent that triggered a series of oinks.

  “She’s the cutest!” laughed Lucy.

  SLAM!

  I felt the color drain from my face. I knew that jolting sound by heart—I’d heard it countless times over the years. I spun around, faking my most cheerful, not-doing-anything-wrong face.

  Mrs. Taglioni stood on her front stoop. It was like a permanent scowl was tattooed on her face. Sure, she was nice enough to the grown-ups on the block, but she couldn’t stand us kids. She lived alone with her old, giant cat, Tootsie, and, legend had it, two sugar gliders, even though I’ve never seen them. But Sarah told me that her Wi-Fi password was sugar glider, so the rumors had to be true. According to Sarah, sugar gliders look like flying squirrels, but they’re actually related to kangaroos. I can’t vouch for that because I’ve never seen one before.

  “Ahhh—you two. Making noise on the street again. How about leaving an old woman with some peace and quiet?” Mrs. Taglioni rattled her doorknob to ensure her house was locked.

  “Hi, Mrs. Taglioni,” we said in unison.

  She patted her pulled-back dark hair, which sort of resembled a bird’s nest, and eyed us suspiciously. Hamlet wouldn’t stop writhing out of my grasp, and I couldn’t risk her squealing at the top of her piglet lungs, so I placed her on the stoop right behind the dead potted plant. Mrs. Taglioni might like exotic creatures like sugar gliders, but there was no way she would like a farm pig living next door, especially if it made more noise than us Shilling kids.

  I tried to spin around before Mrs. Taglioni laid eyes on her, but it was too late.

  “What. Is. That. Creature?”

  “Hamlet!” I said brightly, not answering her question directly, but answering it at the same time. Sometimes avoiding things was the best way to keep Mrs. Taglioni happy—I learned that from Tom. I wrapped my scarf around Hamlet’s bare belly, so she was just a little head peeking out from the fabric.

  “Hamlet,” Mrs. Taglioni repeated, adjusting her thick spectacles on her nose. She stood maybe ten feet away from us, but her stare was so penetrating, it felt like five feet. I tried to block Hamlet with my body, and hoped Mrs. Taglioni’s eyeglass lenses were dirty. “You got a puppy?”

  “We’re pet sitting for a while,” I said, which wasn’t really an answer either.

  “Well. It better not bark during Jeopardy!” Mrs. Taglioni clutched the railing as she moved down her stoop steps. Once she was out of earshot, I spun around and met Lucy’s wide eyes.

  “Phew,” Lucy whispered.

  “Close one!” I agreed, exhaling loudly. “Okay. The key . . . the key . . . I’ve got to find it. . . .”

  “Retrace your steps,” Lucy said. “That’s what I always do when I lose something. It’s gotta be around here somewhere, right? Keys don’
t just run away. I have a few minutes before I have to leave—I’ll help you look. Now. Pretend you’re leaving the house, just like before. . . .”

  “Good idea.” I picked up Hamlet and held her close. “Okay—first, I got Hamlet’s leash, and we went out through the backyard. . . .”

  Lucy nodded. “Okay, let’s check the back!”

  We slipped into the alley behind our house, carefully searching the ground all along the fence until we got to the gate to our little backyard. It was only a thirty-second walk, but carrying a squirming piglet and with your parents due home soon, it sure felt like twenty minutes!

  Hamlet was getting strong, too. Even in the four days we’d had her it already seemed like she had gained a few pounds. She wiggled and wriggled in my arms until finally, once Lucy opened up the gate, I set her down in our yard.

  We searched and searched and searched for the missing house key. It wasn’t on the stone patio, or underneath Amelia’s bike, which was still lying on its side where I’d tripped over it, or alongside Dad’s grill.

  “Knock on the back door?” Lucy suggested. “Maybe someone came home through the front.”

  “No way. I have to find the key first, or I’ll be in so much trouble.” As panic overwhelmed my senses, a burning sensation rose from my stomach. What if I lost it on the sidewalk? It was one thing to lose a key in the backyard, but quite another to lose it on the city streets. Most of the time our neighborhood was pretty safe, but my parents would still be mad all the same.

  And maybe . . . I felt my heart thump wildly in my chest.

  I could get grounded.

  If that happened, I wouldn’t be allowed to compete in the upcoming meet.

  My throat went dry.

  Gymnastics meant everything to me. It was the one thing I had that was really mine. Without it, I was doomed!

  Hamlet’s loud oink reached my ears. Mom and Dad said I had to be responsible to keep her—that they trusted me. If I got grounded for being careless and losing the house key, maybe they’d send her away to a bacon farm before the New Year’s Day deadline.

  Hamlet would be doomed, too.

  And it would be my fault.

  “Uh . . . Josie?” Lucy said. She reached for Hamlet’s leash and tugged the little pig my way. “Hamlet might’ve gotten into your mom’s garden. . . .”

  I looked up. Hamlet was covered in garden soil, from ears to hooves to curlicue tail. I groaned and took the leash from Lucy’s hand just as her phone buzzed. She checked the text message.

  “It’s my mom—I gotta go! I’m sorry! They’re waiting on me for dinner.” Her eyebrows pinched together. “You’ll be okay with the key and . . . everything?”

  I nodded, but only because I couldn’t find the strength to use words. Inside, I was flipping out. Not only was the house key missing, now Hamlet was a muddy mess, and somehow I needed to find the key and clean her up before my family got home.

  “Maybe you should come over,” Lucy said. She glanced at Hamlet and bit her lip, and I knew what she was thinking—that there was no way a muddy pig was going to be allowed in her house.

  “I can’t leave Hamlet here—like this and in the cold,” I told her. She sighed in agreement.

  “If you don’t find the key in ten minutes, just come over, okay?” she told me. “Even if you have to bring Hammie with you. We’ll figure something out. Everything will be all right . . . Okay?” Lucy gave me a big squeeze. “See you in ten minutes—or tomorrow at practice!”

  “Yep,” I said, forcing a smile as she skipped out the back gate.

  Okay. I was on my own to figure this out. I glanced at the unwound hose, flopped across the stone patio. It was much too cold out to rinse a little piglet outside. Hamlet needed a warm bath. But to make that happen, I needed to get inside.

  Hamlet trotted alongside of me, muddy as could be. It looked like her little pink body had been dipped in milk chocolate. I pressed my shoulders back and lifted my chin, as if I was about to begin a gymnastics routine.

  I was going to figure my way out of this mess. I had to.

  Hamlet rooted her snout into the potato chip bag on the patio, grunting and squeezing until her whole head was wedged inside, leaving just her gray-spotted behind and pink tail sticking out.

  “Hamlet! What is it with you and that darn potato chip bag? Ughhhhh, Millie really needs to learn to clean up after herself.” I gripped my hands around Hamlet’s little belly and pulled the bag off her head.

  Clink!

  Something silver fell on the patio.

  A memory sparked, and my eyes lit up. I had tripped over Amelia’s bike! The key must’ve fallen out then, and somehow Hamlet had rooted it into the bag. I couldn’t believe it. Ellen said pigs were smart—even smarter than dogs. Maybe Hamlet had been trying to warn me earlier that my key had fallen on the ground. I picked up the key, the cool metal tingling my palm.

  “You saved the day!” I cheered, scratching behind Hamlet’s ears. “Best piggy in the world!”

  Now all I had to do was give Hamlet a bath before anyone got home. We unlocked the back door and slipped inside before anyone saw us.

  Except for Sarah.

  She stood in the hallway, mouth half open and a spoonful of yogurt in her hand. The name “ELLEN” was handwritten on the side of the yogurt cup in scribbled black ink. Normally I would’ve scolded Sarah for stealing it from the fridge, but right now I couldn’t risk annoying her.

  Sarah’s gaze lowered to the doormat, where Hamlet was rubbing her dirty hooves into the rubber. An amused smirk spread across her face.

  “Dad’s upstairs,” she warned me. “A little advice? Van had a leaking oil pan. I’d keep the filthy farm animal away from him.” Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh, and the pig reeks.”

  I swallowed hard. She didn’t need to remind me. But I wouldn’t be able to reach the bathroom undetected without Sarah’s help . . . and getting my fifteen-year-old sister to help me with anything seemed downright impossible these days.

  “You’ve got to distract him,” I begged. “Please! I’ll give Hamlet a quick bath before dinnertime. No one has to notice.”

  Sarah shook her head. “No can do, Shortcake,” she said. “This is your responsibility, not mine. I’m busy studying for the PSAT.” Sarah plopped the spoon back into her yogurt cup and rounded the hall corner into the kitchen.

  I sighed and looked toward the stairwell. The coast was clear—for now. I picked Hamlet up and held her tightly in my arms.

  It was go time!

  Chapter 4

  THE DOCTOR IS IN

  I tiptoed up the stairs as quietly as possible. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until my lungs began to ache. The bathroom was right around the corner. I exhaled—we were almost there!

  Then the top step creaked beneath my boot.

  No!

  “Sarah?” Dad called out. My parents’ bedroom door was cracked ajar. I’d have to breeze by to make it to the bathroom. I rewrapped my scarf around Hamlet’s body, shielding her just like before, when Mrs. Taglioni was on her stoop.

  “Sarah?”

  I bit my lip. If I ignored him, he might come into the hallway. “No, Dad, it’s Josie,” I said, tiptoeing across the wood floor.

  “Oh. Okay,” Dad said, his voice carrying through the open door. “I thought Sarah needed help with her practice test. I’ll be down in a bit. I’m just resting until dinnertime.”

  He did sound exhausted. “Sure, Dad. I’ll be quiet.” I slipped past the doorway, the piglet secretly in my arms.

  I set the pig down on the bathroom floor and twisted the faucet knobs until warm water began to fill the bathtub. It turned out that Hamlet not only loved getting muddy, she loved getting clean. She burrowed her face in the bubbles and sneezed them off her snout. I scrubbed behind her twitchy ears and rubbed the dirt from the fine hairs across her back. Carlos was right—whenever you scratched right over her spots, her little curly tail would relax and then spring up like a coil again.


  Hamlet gave me a big lick across the cheek, making me laugh. Muddy or clean, she was the best pig in the world.

  A sinking feeling crept over me as I dried her off with a towel. Dad said I shouldn’t get attached. Maybe he was right, that a tiny city house wasn’t a good place to raise a pig. But still, if she stayed with us, she would be safe and loved.

  Didn’t that make it the best kind of house?

  Hamlet’s eyes closed, and she began to fall asleep in her little towel burrito. Soft snores reached my ears.

  I just had to convince my parents that we should keep her.

  The bathroom door burst open. “Lou’s mom is in the living room!” said Amelia, sliding across the tiles in her socks. “Whoa . . . whoa . . . WHOA!” She caught herself on the sink just in time.

  “Millie!” I scolded, lifting the piglet into the safety of my arms. “You could’ve clobbered Hamlet! And broken your arm—or my arm!”

  “Sor-ry!”

  My mind raced. Lou was Amelia’s best friend, and his mom was a veterinarian who operated an animal clinic a few blocks away. What was she doing in our living room?

  “She’s waiting for you downstairs,” Amelia said.

  “Why?”

  “She called Mom this afternoon. Something about Hamlet, I dunno?”

  The hair on the back of my neck tingled. What if Dr. Stern found something wrong with Hamlet? Or—even worse—took her away from us?

  I narrowed my eyes. “You and Lou just had to blab about the pig, didn’t you? Two big mouths.” My sister’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, but she didn’t argue. “We’ll continue this later,” I said, getting to my feet. Hamlet’s heart was racing, too, so I gently stroked her back, letting her know that everything would be okay. As I left Amelia in the bathroom, I called out behind me, “And go move your bike off the patio already and stop littering!” and stomped downstairs, totally forgetting that Dad was resting in my parents’ bedroom.