Diary of a Real Payne Book 3

by Annie Tipton

  “Miss Franklin, you are amazing.” The woman turns around and EJ throws her arms around her in a bear hug. “You are the reason I got into swimming!”

  “Thanks, EJ, but who is Miss Franklin?”

  EJ immediately let go of the hug and stepped back to realize she was actually hugging Miss Marla, the Y’s head lifeguard and swim teacher for the Mommy and Me class.

  “I mean, Miss Marla.” EJ tried to shake off the daydream, but Miss Marla did look a little bit like Missy Franklin, EJ thought. “Thanks for inspiring kids like me to be better swimmers.”

  “You’re welcome.” EJ was glad Miss Marla didn’t act like EJ’s out-of-the-blue hug was anything too weird. The lifeguard turned her attention back to the preschoolers splashing in the kiddie pool.

  EJ was just about to walk toward the deep end when she caught a glimpse of a dad and son coming out of the boys’ locker room. Oh right, I’m supposed to check on the Space Invader.

  “Isaac!” EJ closed her eyes and called through the entry to the boys’ locker room. She couldn’t actually see into the locker room because there was a privacy wall that you had to walk around to enter or exit, but EJ wasn’t going to risk seeing anything she didn’t want to see. “Mom wants to know if you’re doing okay in there. Do you need anything?”

  Silence.

  EJ backed against the wall next to the locker room door to get as close as she could and shouted louder. “Isaac Payne! Are you in there?”

  The moms and kids already on the pool deck looked in EJ’s direction, wondering what the yelling was all about.

  “Nothing to see here, folks.” She laughed nervously and waved them off. “Everything’s under control.”

  EJ inched as close as she dared in the locker room doorway.

  “Isaac. David. Payne.” EJ called to him in a harsh whisper, putting some force behind it so her voice would carry past the privacy wall to where Isaac was (hopefully) getting ready. “You’re gonna be in a world of hurt when you finally show your face out here, bud!”

  Silenter silence.

  For half a second, EJ let her mind imagine that maybe Isaac wasn’t in the locker room. Maybe he got lost. Maybe he wandered away. Maybe….

  Just then two identical twin boys strolled out of the locker room—EJ recognized them as barracudas. “Hey!” The boys startled, but then they looked suspicious of the girl standing so close to the door to the boys’ locker room. EJ stepped away from the door, hoping it made her look less like a creeper. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she began. “Did you guys see my brother in there?”

  The brothers glanced at each other—EJ thought the effect of two face-to-face identical twins dressed in matching trunks was like a 3-D mirror. She started to wonder what it would be like if her mirror image was a real person….

  “No daydreams when Isaac is missing, EJ!” she muttered to herself, shaking her head to clear the dream that she’d nearly just slipped into.

  “Um, do you mean the kid with the curly blond hair—the guppy?” the twin on the left asked.

  EJ’s heart lifted. “Yes! That’s him. Is he in there?”

  “Yeah, he’s in there,” the other twin replied, giving his brother a funny look. “He’s, uh, fine. He should be out in a minute.” The boys snickered and walked away.

  EJ raised an eyebrow, wondering what the twins’ inside joke could be. Oh well, she thought, who really understands boys, anyway? Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the boys’ locker room entrance.

  “Everything okay?” EJ spun around to see Mom standing on the pool deck dressed in her royal blue tankini and a black cover-up wrapped around her waist. Faith, perched on Mom’s hip, twisted around to watch the activity happening in the pool behind them and squealed excitedly.

  “I think so.” Even though EJ hadn’t been able to fill Mom’s request of checking to make sure Isaac had everything he needed, she hoped Mom would just let her join the other sharks and out of Isaac-patrol. “I can’t get him to answer me, but some boys told me he’s in there.”

  “Isaac, come out when you’re ready,” Mom called. “If you hurry, you might have enough time to practice one or two cannonballs before lessons start.”

  Apparently cannonballs was exactly the magic word Isaac needed to hear, because as soon as Mom uttered the word, EJ heard the furious flip-flopping sounds of Isaac making a beeline toward them from somewhere inside the locker room.

  A six-year-old-sized blur streaked past EJ to the edge of the pool deck, where he froze in a perfect superhero-style pose—chest out, fists on hips, feet shoulder-width apart, chin in the air. All that was embarrassing enough, but in a split second EJ realized what took Isaac so long to get dressed. Along with his favorite pair of trunks, he also had tied a towel around his neck as a cape (a pretty common occurrence both at swim lessons and at home on any given day). Today he’d also added a white mask that looked strangely familiar … except EJ couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

  “Never fear. I have arrived, mortals!” Isaac shouted in his best manly voice. “It is I, the best cannonballer in the universe … Splash Guard!”

  Every face in the pool area—moms, dads, kids, and lifeguards alike—swiveled to stare at the shouting boy. The sea of eyes looked confused for a moment, but then one of the little tadpoles—a tiny girl with red curls pulled up in two pigtails—pointed at Isaac’s face and said, “Mommy, look—underwear!”

  EJ gasped. The toddler was right. Isaac had positioned a pair of his tighty-whitey underwear on his head, the waistband loosely around his face and his eyes shining excitedly through the leg holes. To complete the look, he adjusted a pair of goggles over his eyes as the crowd still looked at him in silence, obviously awestruck by the amount of crazy that could be in one little person, EJ thought miserably.

  “Buddy, take off the cape first,” Mom said, not a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

  “I’m not buddy, and I’m not Isaac.” He untied the towel cape, let it fall on the green tile floor, and flashed a wide smile. “I’m Splash Guard!”

  EJ knew what was coming next. She covered her face with her hands and slunk behind Mom, wishing she had the ability to disappear or teleport or turn invisible—any of those would do.

  “Kawabunga!” Splash Guard shouted as he soared off the edge of the pool into a perfect cannonball, sending a spout of water that soaked four girl barracudas who squealed and complained loudly about getting wet—which EJ thought was just dumb because they were about to have swim lessons.

  A roar of laughter and applause burst from the onlookers as Splash Guard broke the surface of the water and swam to the edge of the pool. A half dozen other little boys followed Isaac’s lead and practiced their cannonballs, too, until Miss Marla blew the whistle, announcing the beginning of lessons.

  Relieved the Isaac show was over for now, EJ wondered if there’d ever be a day that she wouldn’t have to worry about her brother embarrassing her.

  “He’s not as bad as you think he is.” Mom raised an eyebrow at EJ. “He looks up to you and your vivid imagination—his creativity is just on the outside of his head, and yours is inside.”

  “I just wish he wouldn’t let all the crazy out while I’m around.” EJ edged away as Isaac heaved himself out of the pool and sloshed up to Mom.

  “That was pretty epic, wasn’t it, Marm?” Isaac removed the swim mask and underwear and handed them to Mom before picking up the towel and slinging it over his shoulder.

  “Yes, epic is a good word for it,” Mom said, using her free hand to wring out as much water as she could from the tighty-whities while Faith reached for them. “It’ll also be epic if you can wear this wet underwear home without catching your death of cold.”

  “No problem.” Isaac shook the water out of his blond curls like a dog. “I haven’t worn underwear for the past three weeks anyway.”

  Nope, EJ thought as she walked toward the deep end, I should just plan on being embarrassed for the rest of my life.
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br />   Chapter 3

  HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DOG (AND YOUR BROTHER)

  February 7

  Dear Diary,

  Bert is undeniably the most ingenious dog I know. He’s my best furry friend, sidekick, partner in crime, and he has no equal in the animal kingdom.

  Except even I, his biggest fan, have to admit that he’s been a horribly bad dog lately.

  It’s not just the fact that he shredded the rubber part of three pacifiers in one day (honestly, pacifiers do look a little bit like dog toys) or that he dug a tube of rash cream out of the baby bag and squeezed it all over the bathroom floor (maybe he had a rash that he wanted to take care of himself), or even that he stole Faith’s beef and noodles baby food at dinner a few weeks ago. No, what finally earned Bert a ticket to obedience school was when he ate one of Faith’s dirty diapers.

  Yes, it’s true. Ate. A dirty diaper. (Side note: Blech! Bert! What has come over you? Where is the good dog I know and love? Did some crazed wild animal take over your body and mind in a moment of weakness?)

  I’ve never seen Mom as mad as when she caught Bert in the act—hiding behind the changing table in the nursery, gnawing on the rancid diaper. I ran in when I heard her scream, and I have to admit that it was so gross that it was all I could do to keep my supper from making a reappearance. Mom must’ve startled Bert, because he dropped what remained of the diaper and tried to make a run for it. But as much as I wanted to stick up for him, he and I both knew he was in big trouble. Capital BIG.

  What followed was the scolding of Bert’s life, an extended time-out in his kennel, and baby probation. Except baby probation seems more like a punishment for the humans in the house rather than the dog. Basically we have to keep all of Faith’s stuff (and she has a lot of stuff) out of his reach. And I’m the one who has to take Bert to obedience school—which wouldn’t be so bad, except that it’s on Saturday—the one day a week I shouldn’t have to think about classes or learning (even Sundays have Sunday school!).

  Thanks for nothing, Bert. I hope that diaper gave you a bellyache.

  EJ

  Click-click. Click-click-click-click.

  “Sit. Chewy, sit.”

  Click-click.

  “Come on, sit already!”

  EJ watched the young woman with long, curly hair desperately try to coax her tiny chocolate-brown shih tzu to obey the simple command. Except she was using the clicker tool all wrong—definitely not the way the obedience school teacher had told them to do it. EJ wondered if she should say something to her.

  “Please, Chewy!” The woman kneeled to put her face down on her pup’s level. “Do you want to be nothing more than an obedience-school dropout? Sit!” Chewy attacked her owner’s cheek with her pink tongue, and the woman giggled.

  EJ looked around the large multipurpose room of the Spooner community center until she found the teacher—a grandpa-aged guy named Mike—who was working one-on-one with a teenage boy and his pony-sized Saint Bernard, Bernie (Maybe the least-imaginative name for a dog ever, EJ thought). EJ stifled a giggle as Bernie flattened Mike when the dog made a lunge for the treats that filled the pockets of the instructor’s safari vest.

  The click-clicking and hubbub from about twenty dogs and owners taking the obedience training filled the room with a friendly buzz. Mike had already led the class through a hands-on lecture, and now everyone was supposed to be practicing what they’d learned to get their pets to obey simple commands like sit, stay, and come. EJ was relieved to see that Bert was better at obeying than many of the other dogs in the room. In fact, Bert was a shining star among his classmates—especially compared to whatever was going on with Chewy and her owner.

  “What do you think, Bertalicious?” EJ pointed at Chewy and the young woman—Chewy now chasing her own tail as her owner laughed and continued clicking the tool for no apparent reason. It looked like she’d given up altogether. “Should we see if we can help them since Mike is busy?”

  Bert’s tail wagged a yes.

  “Hi, I’m EJ. And this is Bert.” The young woman stopped clicking and blushed as though she’d been caught doing something wrong. Chewy, a little shy of strangers but also dizzy from spinning in circles, made a motion to run and hide behind her owner’s legs but tripped over her own paws and landed in a heap.

  “Whoops-a-daisy!” The woman scooped up the ball of fluff and set her upright. Chewy swayed a bit but held steady. “I’m Betsy. And this five pounds of fab is Chewy.”

  “Is she named after Chewbacca, from Star Wars?” EJ kneeled and held out a hand toward Chewy, who sniffed and took a tentative step toward EJ to get a pat on the head, keeping a wary eye on Bert sitting nearby. “Good girl.”

  “Yep! One of my favorite movies.” Betsy fiddled with the clicker in her hand. “Hey, it looked like you and Bert have gotten the hang of this clicker thing. Do you think you could help Chewy and me? We’re a hot mess over here.”

  “Sure!” EJ stood and turned toward Bert. “Mike said the important thing is to use the clicking noise to tell the dog that he has done what you want. So, it’s like this. Bert, sit.”

  Bert looked at EJ, an ornery twinkle in his eye.

  “Bert. Sit,” she said a little more firmly. Bert broke eye contact with EJ and looked up at Betsy and then at Chewy. EJ was going to have to pull out the big guns. “Matthew Cuthbert T-Rex Payne, sit!”

  Bert’s bottom dropped to the floor immediately when he heard his full name.

  The moment Bert sat, EJ gave him a click-click and said, “Good boy.” She pulled a bacon-flavored treat (his favorite) from her pocket and tossed it Bert’s way, but a streak of chocolate-brown fur jumped out of nowhere to intercept the reward. Before EJ even knew what happened, Chewy had swallowed the bacon bite whole.

  Bert blinked and looked on the floor for his treat.

  “Chewy! Bad girl!” Betsy snatched her pet and scolded her. “You didn’t earn the treat. Bert did! Oh my goodness, what am I going to do with you?”

  EJ kneeled and gave Bert two treats, rubbing his ears the way he liked so much.

  “I’m sorry, EJ. Chewy’s been all out of sorts since we moved to Spooner two months ago.” Betsy sat on the floor and held her pup on her lap. “I read somewhere that dogs sometimes act out when they have big changes in their lives. Change is hard for humans and for dogs, isn’t it, Chewster?”

  Is that why you’re squeezing rash cream and eating diapers, Bert? EJ glanced down at her furry friend as she grasped his collar loosely. The truth was, Bert, EJ, and the rest of the Paynes had gone through quite a bit of change since Faith joined the family at the end of the summer. EJ just wanted Bert to be the normal, well-behaved dog she knew and loved; she’d never stopped to wonder why he was doing naughty things.

  “So I tell Chewy to sit, and I don’t click this thing or give her a treat until she actually does it?” Betsy placed the dog on the floor, facing her.

  “Right,” EJ said. “And then you do it over and over again until Chewy understands that the clicker means she is obeying correctly.”

  “Chewy, sit.” Two dark eyes looked at Betsy through the dark fluff, but no sitting happened. “Sit!”

  “Keep repeating the command firmly,” EJ whispered, trying to not distract Chewy.

  “Chewy, sit. Sit. Sit, sit, sit!” Betsy’s rising volume meant she was getting more and more frustrated. Without warning, Bert pulled away from EJ’s grip on his collar, and he trotted to Chewy, stopping next to her.

  “Bert!” EJ scrambled to remove him but stopped short when she realized what was happening.

  “Chewbacca Lenore Shrider, I said sit your bottom down!”

  Chewy’s eyes darted to Bert, and Bert’s hind end dropped to the ground, as if showing his new friend the ropes of this whole obedience thing. Chewy looked from Bert to EJ and finally to Betsy, the dog’s pink tongue hanging out of her mouth and a look of deep concentration in her eyes. Betsy nodded and said, “Yes, Bert’s right. Now, sit!”

  With all the dram
a the little dog could muster, Chewy pulled her tongue in her mouth and let out a giant sigh before plopping down.

  Click-click went Betsy’s clicker. “Good girl!” she squealed, rewarding Chewy with a treat before turning her attention to Bert. “And I think we should share a treat with Bert, too. What a good example he is.” Bert happily accepted the reward and trotted back to EJ’s side.

  “Thank you so much for your help.” Betsy gave EJ a warm hug. “We’re going to keep practicing sit.” Betsy had her back to Chewy, so she didn’t see that her little dog sat perfectly when she heard the word sit.

  “Look!” EJ pointed and laughed. “She’s a fast learner.”

  EJ and Bert returned to their spots to practice more commands with the clicker. They’d worked through “come,” “stay,” and “lie down.” Bert was mastering the “speak” command, and a lot of the other dogs in the room were barking as well. EJ was having a hard time concentrating on Bert’s bark, especially when she heard the deep, gravelly bark of Bernie the Saint Bernard. She wondered what Bernie’s voice would sound like if he were a human….

  “Hey, EJ, earth to EJ. I’m over here.”

  “Wha—?” EJ’s neck snaps toward the young man’s voice. Except nobody’s there. EJ scratches her head. “Hearing voices—never a good sign.” She smiles to herself.

  “You’re not hearing voices. I’m down here!”

  EJ looks down to see Bert smiling up at her, tail wagging.

  “Bert, you can talk?” EJ can’t believe what she’s seeing and hearing. She drops down to the floor to sit next to her pooch. “Since when do you talk?”

  “Oh, I’ve always been able to talk.” Bert sits and scratches his ear with his back leg casually. “But until now I’ve just used my excellent dog faces to tell you how I’m feeling.”