Star

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  At least Ms. Hollin left him alone to daydream while he organized books and cleaned shelves. He’d spent the whole time thinking about all the maps in his collection. He wondered if one of them might lead to a treasure that had been left behind by loggers, bank robbers, or pirates. He hoped to visit every single place on those maps, to see what they were like and how they’d changed since they were first plotted on a piece of paper. He wanted to explore the world and record the places he discovered on his own maps. Maybe someone else would look at them and collect them someday, dozens—or even hundreds—of years from now.

  Julian’s heart sank a little as he looked out the window. The fall weather was perfect, still warm enough to wear a T-shirt, but the air had that sweet apple crispness that meant the leaves would start changing colors soon. Henry was going to the cider mill with his friends for warm cinnamon doughnuts and spiced apple cider. They’d probably chase one another through the corn maze, teasing each other every time they hit a dead end. Ever since they were little, Julian always figured out the maze before anyone else. With one glance, it made sense to him. He’d wait for his family at the end with his arms crossed and a grin on his face. But instead of spending Saturday waiting for his brother and getting to tease Henry for being the slow one for once, Julian was stuck in school.

  Julian reached the classroom door and stopped in his tracks. Ms. Hollin wasn’t there. Instead, behind her desk sat Mr. Walter. The new principal.

  Mr. Walter looked up and gave Julian a smile as warm as the sun shining through the window on his bald head. Instead of his usual dress shirt and tie, Mr. Walter was wearing a maroon polo shirt and khaki pants. He looked like he belonged at a family brunch or on the golf course instead of at school.

  “Hi, Julian,” Mr. Walter said. “Come on in.”

  Julian hesitated. “Is Ms. Hollin sick?”

  Or was she home planting her garden or sipping lemonade on her porch or whatever teachers did on weekends?

  Mr. Walter’s presence made Julian nervous. The principal had always been nice to him, but kids were sent to his office only if they were in big trouble. Julian swallowed, feeling the knot in his throat.

  Mr. Walter shook his head. “This is your third strike, Julian. That means you get to spend your Saturday with me.” His broad forehead wrinkled in a familiar look of exasperation. “Didn’t Ms. Hollin write that on your detention slip?”

  Julian didn’t answer. He didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t even tried to read the details of his detention. He’d just handed the slip to his parents and accepted his fate.

  Mr. Walter adjusted his glasses and nodded toward the middle desk in the front row. Julian dropped into the seat, and the principal handed him a battered classroom copy of The Giver. Julian recognized the paperback from when he’d helped rearrange the bookshelves. Mr. Walter picked up a second copy of the book and tapped it against his palm. “We’re going to make up your reading assignment today. Every time you finish a chapter, we’ll check in and discuss what you read.”

  Julian’s cheeks burned. He didn’t want to tell Mr. Walter that it would take him all weekend to read one chapter. He couldn’t think of anything worse than having to sit and read in front of the principal. Who could concentrate on a book with someone watching them?

  But Julian didn’t want to get himself in more trouble by arguing, so he opened the book to chapter one.

  His gaze kept slipping from the page to the window. A pair of squirrels chased each other along the branches of a big maple tree. The one with a nut in its mouth disappeared into a hole in the tree trunk, leaving the other one behind. Julian imagined the squirrel standing guard while its friend climbed deep into the tree to bury its treasure. He’d watched a video online about squirrels using landmarks so they wouldn’t forget where they stored their food. But what about the ones who had trouble remembering? Maybe there were tiny squirrel-size maps for the forgetful ones.

  Mr. Walter cleared his throat loudly.

  Julian’s head shot back around. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He sank further in his seat and tried to refocus on the book. He could feel Mr. Walter’s eyes on him as he ran his finger along under the words, trying to remember the tips from reading camp. Julian bit his lip and searched the page for a familiar combination of letters. He just needed somewhere to start. He sneaked a glance at Mr. Walter. The principal was watching him with a furrowed brow.

  Julian felt sweat break out on his brow. He squirmed and stared at the page again, struggling through the first couple of pages. Mr. Walter had started typing on the computer on Ms. Hollin’s desk. The click-clack of the keys was distracting. So were the hmmm noises Mr. Walter made in the back of his throat.

  Finally, after what felt like forever, the principal pushed back the desk chair and stood up. “Okay. I can see this isn’t going to work.”

  Julian shot up straight in his chair. He couldn’t fail detention. “No—I’m reading. Really, I am. Please, I—” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

  Mr. Walter studied him for a long moment, as if he were trying to make sense of something. Julian couldn’t read his expression. Was he angry at Julian, like everyone else always was? Or was he just frustrated? Was he thinking of a way to tell Julian’s mom that her son had failed detention too?

  “Will you be okay on your own for a minute?” Mr. Walter asked. “I need to make a quick phone call.”

  Julian nodded, dropping his eyes to the puzzle pieces spilled across the pages of his book. But once Mr. Walter was gone, he couldn’t help watching the door. The principal’s low voice rumbled in the hallway. It got louder, then softer as Mr. Walter paced in front of the classroom door. Julian couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he had a sinking feeling that it had to do with him. Was he about to get into even bigger trouble? But for what? He’d shown up for detention like he was supposed to. Julian’s brain twisted around on itself with worry and uncertainty.

  When the doorknob turned, Julian ducked his head and flipped ahead a few pages. He tried to look absorbed in the chapter. Mr. Walter towered over Julian’s desk. He held out a hand for the book. “I’m sorry, Julian.”

  Julian tried to hold on to the book, as if that would prove he was being responsible. He didn’t want Mr. Walter to give up on him. “I’m trying. I really am.”

  “I know you are.” Mr. Walter gently pulled the book from Julian’s hands. “You can check this out if you want to read it at home, but I’ve got a different idea.”

  “Are there more closets to clean?” Julian glanced longingly at the sunlight sparkling off the empty desktops. He’d rather move around than just sit here, but he didn’t want to spend the day in some dark, windowless room.

  Mr. Walter chuckled, his shoulders bobbing up and down. “No closets. But maybe some kennels.”

  “Kennels?” Julian’s attention snapped from the sunlight to his principal.

  “You like dogs, don’t you?” Mr. Walter asked.

  “Yes. I don’t have one or anything, but I’ve always . . . wanted one.” Confusion filled Julian’s voice. What did dogs have to do with his reading assignment?

  Mr. Walter pulled out the chair at the desk beside Julian and sat down. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I just talked to your mom.”

  Julian’s face felt tight. His mom spent every Saturday helping Grandpa around the house. They went grocery shopping and prepared meals so Grandpa would have enough to eat for the week. She wouldn’t be happy if she had to leave because he’d messed up detention again.

  “She told me about your challenges,” Mr. Walter said gently.

  Julian’s nervousness was quickly replaced by shame. Now the new principal knew he was stupid. He’d probably want to hold him back a grade or put him in special classes. Julian didn’t know what to say. He hated talking about his reading problems.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Julian. Lots of kids have dyslexia. Ten percent in fact.” Mr. Walter hefted Julian’s book in his hand.


  Julian tried to change the subject. “What about dogs and kennels?”

  Mr. Walter’s serious expression broke into a wide smile. “Who doesn’t love dogs, right? There’s an animal shelter on the other side of town. Your mom said it was okay if we took a little field trip. So what do you say we go check it out?”

  “She did?” Julian looked up at Mr. Walter, his head tilted in surprise. A field trip was the last thing he’d expected.

  “We agreed that it might be a good change of pace for you.” Mr. Walter stood and set the book down on Ms. Hollin’s desk. He took his keys out of his pocket. “My son Bryan volunteers there. He really loves it.”

  Julian didn’t know Bryan Walter very well, as the Walter family had moved to town only a few months earlier. But they had a couple of classes together. Julian wasn’t the most popular kid in school, but Bryan was seriously uncool. He was always the first to raise his hand in class, pouncing on questions like a cat on a mouse. In his weirdly booming voice, he gave the longest answers, full of memorized dates and names. And whenever he turned in an assignment, he thanked the teacher for giving him homework. At lunch, Bryan sat by himself, with huge headphones over his ears and his nose in a book. Julian couldn’t imagine that they had anything in common.

  He didn’t think he could stand to spend an entire Saturday with Bryan Walter. But anything was better than being stuck in an empty school, alone with the principal. And he really did love dogs. He’d been asking his parents for years if they could get one.

  Before Mr. Walter could change his mind, Julian leaped out of his seat and headed toward the door. “Let’s go!”

  ★ Chapter 3 ★

  * * *

  * * *

  The animal shelter lobby was painted a cheery creamsicle orange, with framed photos of dogs and cats and colorful posters about friendship and flea prevention lining the walls. It reminded Julian of a kindergarten classroom. Well, except for the flea prevention. The woman sitting behind the counter had straight black hair pulled into a thick ponytail. She greeted them with a wide smile.

  “This is Ms. Khan,” Mr. Walter said. “She keeps this place running.”

  “More like it keeps me running.” Ms. Khan’s laugh was as bright as the walls. “It’s nice to meet you, Julian. Have you been to the shelter before?”

  Julian shook his head. Every time he’d asked for a dog, his parents had said they were too busy. He’d asked once if they could just visit the shelter dogs, but they’d said they didn’t want to get his hopes up.

  Ms. Khan clapped her hands. “Welcome! I’ll take you back to the kennels, and then Bryan can help show you the ropes.”

  “Thanks.” Julian couldn’t help returning her smile. He was excited to see the dogs. For once, he felt like he was being rewarded instead of punished. But as they pushed through double doors into a long hallway, he started to feel nervous. What if he wasn’t good with the animals? What would he and Bryan talk about all day? What if Bryan thought he was stupid for being in detention?

  Julian slowed his steps. Almost as if Ms. Khan sensed his worry, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was following her. He shot her an anxious smile and scrambled to catch up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a row of flyers fixed to the wall, each one showing off a different dog or cat up for adoption at the shelter.

  About halfway down the hallway Ms. Khan paused at a giant window set in the wall. Julian stopped next to her and peered into a small room. Just on the other side of the glass he saw a tall, narrow structure—like a large coat rack with shelves—covered in beige carpet. Behind it was an armchair and a low bookshelf. Cats sprawled on every bare surface.

  “We call this room our cat condo,” Ms. Khan said. “It helps potential adopters see what these guys might be like in a home. Someday, I hope all our cats can be in condos, but for now, it gives a few at a time a break from their cages.”

  Julian counted at least six cats scattered and lounging around the room. A lanky black cat hopped up onto the highest shelf of the cat tree, just inches from Julian’s face, and lazily swatted at the glass. Julian laughed and tapped the window with his finger. The cat pawed at him from the other side.

  “That’s Cleopatra,” Ms. Khan said. “I think she likes you.”

  Cleopatra batted at Julian’s fingers dancing along the glass. When he looked up, Ms. Khan was on the move again. With one last tap for his new cat friend, he hurried to catch up.

  Ms. Khan led him through a metal door into a long room lined floor to ceiling with cages on three walls.

  “More cats.” Ms. Khan said, stating the obvious with a grin.

  Julian had never seen anything like it. Each cage held a skinny, rotund, sleepy, playful, happy, or grumpy-looking cat. A man stood in front of an open cage door, scooping a litter box. He seemed to barely notice the small brindle kitten perched on his shoulder. One or two of the cats twitched their heads in Julian’s direction, and a fat orange tabby with white paws ducked his head in greeting.

  They stepped out and headed farther down the hall. Ms. Khan turned a corner into another hallway. She paused in front of three windowed doors that opened into three small spaces.

  “These are our meet-and-greet rooms, where people can get to know an animal before they adopt one,” she said.

  Julian peered inside. Each room was nearly filled with an overstuffed armchair and a basket of dog toys, waiting for games of tug of war.

  They continued past a series of doors without windows. The one that smelled sharply of bleach was probably a storage closet, Julian thought. The next one was partially open, and it rumbled as if it were holding back a train. He could see laundry tumbling around in machines that looked big enough to eat the washer and dryer his parents had at home.

  Julian felt like he was in a maze, his only signposts the smell of floor cleaner, fur, and kibble. His fingers tingled with the urge to map it out, but he’d left his backpack and notebooks in Mr. Walter’s car.

  Ms. Khan turned another corner, bringing them closer to the muffled sound of barking. When they finally stopped in front of the dog room, she turned to face Julian, her expression still warm but serious. “You’ll find Bryan right through there. He’s been volunteering with us for a while, so follow his lead. But everyone who walks through those doors has to take responsibility. You don’t know these dogs, and they don’t know you. So don’t stick your fingers in the cages. And never go into a cage or take a dog out without permission. Got it?”

  Julian nodded. “I understand.”

  “Good. I have to finish some paperwork, then I’ll be back to see how you’re doing.” Ms. Khan started back down the hallway.

  “Thank you—” Julian called after her. She waved and disappeared back around the corner, leaving him to find Bryan in the kennel.

  Julian was pleased that Ms. Khan trusted him to be around the animals. He was determined to prove that he was responsible enough to deserve that trust. He wiped his palms on his jeans and opened the door. At the sound of the hinges, two dozen dogs ceased their barking and raised their heads in unison to look at him from their kennels. Each kennel was fairly large, like a dog-size hotel room, outfitted with a water dish and a bed that sort of looked like a trampoline. They lined the walls of the long, narrow room. Julian held his breath as he took in the array of animals in all sizes and colors, all different fur textures and ear shapes. Before he could exhale, the dogs took up their loud barking again, as if they were greeting him.

  Julian’s ears vibrated with the sound, but he stepped forward to say hi to the dogs. The medium-size mutt in the first kennel stood on her hind legs, with her front paws perched on the door. She was all black, except for one white paw, as if she’d stepped in paint. In the next kennel, a beagle bayed at Julian, sounding like a siren. A yellow Lab was too busy tearing up his blanket to pay much attention. But the tan pit bull in the next kennel gazed up so hopefully that Julian had to stop and say hello to her. At the sound of his voice, her tail whipp
ed back and forth so quickly that her whole body wriggled. She licked at the kennel door. The German shepherd in the next kennel whined for Julian to notice him.

  Julian thought he could spend all day talking to the dogs and getting to know them. Each kennel had a pale green sign hooked to the door, with writing on it. Julian guessed that each one spelled out the dog’s name, breed, age, and other information. Every few cages, he paused to try to read the signs. From what he could tell, one dog was named Bumble. Another liked to play with soccer balls.

  Finally, after Julian stepped through a door at the back of the room to find yet another huge space packed with kennels, he found Bryan. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a cage about two-thirds of the way down a row. His head was bowed, and with his curly hair shielding his face, Julian couldn’t tell what he was doing.

  Julian got closer and saw a book lying in Bryan’s lap.

  Without looking at Julian, Bryan held up a finger, telling him to wait. “I just want to finish this chapter for Pip.”

  He turned a page and continued reading aloud. Julian rolled his eyes, even though he felt like his brother, Henry, when he did it. Had Mr. Walter played some kind of trick on him? Was this how he was supposed to make up his reading assignment? The dogs broke out into a new chorus of barks that echoed up and down the row of kennels. Julian couldn’t hear Bryan, and he figured Pip couldn’t either. But what did it matter? Julian didn’t think that Pip or any of the other dogs cared what happened at the end of the chapter.

  But as Julian peered into the kennel in front of Bryan, he saw that the small, scruffy caramel-colored dog inside was watching Bryan attentively. He wasn’t at the front of his kennel like most of the other dogs, trying to see what was going on outside. Instead, he lay calmly on his blanket with his head tipped to one side, as if he were really listening to the story.