Boys Are Dogs (13 page)

Jackson watched me, amused. He was actually enjoying this. Finally he walked away, calling over his shoulder, “All you had to do was say please.”

Yeah, right.

Once I was sure he wasn’t coming back, I dug a tissue out of my backpack, and cleaned off the lock. I couldn’t get all the chocolate out of the crack around the dial, but did the best I could. It took me three tries to open up my locker. My hands shook so much, I kept messing up and passing the right numbers.

And once I did get my math book, I left brown fingerprints all over it.

As soon as I got home, I consulted my book.

So easy to read. So hard to do. Obviously Jackson knew I was scared of him. How can you hide something like that?

You can’t.

Which is why I needed a new plan.

From now on, I’d spend the rest of sixth grade avoiding Jackson.

chapter twelve
buttons breaks and laundry aches

T
hat night, while I was reading over the final draft of my book report, Pepper jumped onto my bed.

“Down, boy,” I said.

He ignored me. Probably because he was too busy barking at Buttons, my stuffed hippo. Gran gave me Buttons when I was born. She’s fat and blue with blond braids and red shoes. (The hippo, I mean. Not Gran.) She used to have matching buttons running down her front but they all fell off. I know I’m too old to have stuffed animals, but Buttons is too cute and raggedy to give up. This made it really annoying when Pepper grabbed her by the hair, jumped off the bed, and fled.

Yesterday, he’d taken one of Dweeble’s running shoes and tried to bury it behind the tomato plants. Fearing my hippo would soon share the same fate, I chased Pepper downstairs and through the kitchen, finally cornering him in the dining room.

“Drop it,” I said. It was like he didn’t even hear me. He tried to run past me but I managed to grab ahold of Buttons’s foot. I tried yanking her away, but that just made him grip her even tighter.

It didn’t matter how hard I pulled. He wouldn’t let go. “Come on. Drop it. Please drop it, Pepper.”

His teeth sunk deeper into her fur. His lips curled up, exposing his pink gums. Gums I used to find adorable.

“Let go, Pepper!”

I gave it a sharp tug and finally managed to rip Buttons from Pepper. But not all of her. Buttons’s hair and half her head were still in Pepper’s mouth. I stared at Buttons’s bottom half, horrified.

“You just scalped my favorite stuffed animal!”

Pepper’s tail wagged.

I held Buttons up to his face. Cotton stuffing puffed from the top of her head. “Her brains are oozing out. You murdered Buttons.”

Pepper dropped Buttons’s head-half to try and get the rest of her. Obviously the gravity of the situation was lost on him.

Once I had both pieces out of his reach, I led him into the backyard, and left him there, so I could take a look at the dog-training book.

I went outside with my already ruined sandal and a pocket full of dog biscuits to try it out.

Pepper grabbed the sandal as soon as he saw it. He preferred shoes, socks, and pillows to the actual toys we bought for him. If it wasn’t so destructive, it might be cute.

Once I held up a dog biscuit and said, “Drop it!” he let go of the sandal and went for the treat instead.

“Good boy,” I said, grabbing the sandal. “Now let’s try it again.”

I gave him back the sandal. “Now drop it,” I said, offering him another treat. “Nice work, Pepper!”

We practiced for a while.

When I headed back inside I found my mom digging through her purse, probably in search of her keys. “Want to come to the grocery store with me, Annabelle?”

“No thanks.”

“Then can you do me a favor? I didn’t manage to finish the laundry. There’s a load in the dryer now. Will you fold everything after it’s ready?”

“Why can’t Ted do it?”

“He’s working late, and he’s leaving for Switzerland in just two days. He’s got a lot to take care of.”

I sighed like it pained me. “Do I have to?”

“You don’t have to, but you’d be doing me a huge favor,” Mom said.

Yup, I had to. “Okay, fine.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed my arm before heading out the door.

Pepper and I headed upstairs, so I could do more homework and he could nap at my feet.

The dinging of the dryer woke him up twenty minutes later.

Pepper’s ears perked up and he let out a low growl.

“It’s okay, Pep,” I said.

He followed me downstairs to the garage, where I began unloading the clean clothes.

It wasn’t fun, exactly, but it did seem cool, having a washing machine and a dryer in our house. We didn’t have one in the old apartment, which meant that Mom had to go to the Laundromat every Saturday morning. If I didn’t have other plans, she’d make me come along. It was boring being there, cooped up inside. The machines were too loud to have a conversation over and the chairs weren’t comfortable to sit in. For a while, Mom and I would drop our stuff in the wash and then head to the diner across the street for breakfast. But one day someone stole our sheets. So after that, we had to stay inside and guard everything.

Now if I needed clean clothes, I didn’t have to wait until the weekend. I could have them anytime.

I dumped our dry clothes into a white plastic basket and headed for the living room to fold. Everything was still warm and it smelled good. Not as good as an ocean breeze, like the fabric softener had promised. But good, just the same.

I took the dish towels right to the kitchen, folded them carefully and put them in the drawer next to the silverware. Then I folded my two new T-shirts— the ones that Pepper hadn’t destroyed. Luckily, they were already soft and worn looking—in a good way, not in an old way.

As much as I missed St. Catherine’s and the ease of not having to deal with dumb boys five days a week, I had to admit, it was nice wearing whatever I wanted to at school.

It was also fun seeing how certain kids wore clothes that matched their personalities. Emma always looked neat and tucked in. Yumi dressed like she was going to or coming from a baseball game. And Claire is kind of a hippy, who makes her own tie-dyes and even embroiders flowers and peace signs onto her jeans. It was much cooler than being surrounded by girls in plaid every single day.

I was almost done with the folding when I spotted something horrifying at the bottom of the basket.

Dweeble’s running shorts.

I stared down at them for a while, afraid to get too close. So big and loud and bright, they seemed out of place among my and mom’s clothes. I wondered if I could just put the basket away, back in the garage, and pretend like I hadn’t noticed. But they were Oompa Loompa orange. There’s no way they could be missed.

I carefully picked them up by the drawstring, using only my thumb and forefinger. Eew. I cringed. I couldn’t help myself. These were shorts he’d sweated in. Yes, they were clean now, but there was still something icky about it. Worse, something gray flapped around inside the lining.

They had underwear already sewn in.

I dropped the shorts faster than a hot potato— shocked that Mom had asked me to fold Dweeble’s underwear. And worse, Dweeble’s underwear and mine had tumbled around together in the same dryer. Like they all belonged together, which they so clearly didn’t.

The shorts lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. I wanted to pick them up, like it was no big deal, but I couldn’t do it. Instead, I tipped the basket to its side and kicked Dweeble’s shorts back in. Then I threw Mom’s stuff on top and left the entire basket outside the door to their room.

chapter thirteen
cut to the chase

I
got to Birchwood early on Friday and didn’t even dread being there. Campus was so quiet it seemed peaceful.

After a quick trip to my locker, I sat down on an empty bench in the West Quad and pulled out my book report. I wanted to read it one last time before turning it in. Sure, it sounds nerdy, but there’s something exciting about handing over an assignment you’ve worked hard on, when you’re pretty sure you’re going to get a good grade.

Thanks to Tobias, Mr. Beller thought I was a nuisance. I looked forward to proving to him that I wasn’t some dumb kid who disrupted class on purpose. I was just an innocent victim, someone fully capable of doing well. I hoped.

But after I pulled the report out of my backpack, before I even read the opening sentence, it disappeared.

Yup, that’s right. My report was gone.

Someone ripped the pages right out of my hands.

By the time I realized what’d happened, Erik was halfway to the locker bank. “This yours?” he asked, carelessly waving my report by the spine. Dumb question, but I was in no position to criticize.

“Give it back.” When I jumped up and went after him, he turned and ran.

I chased him, of course, but I couldn’t keep up. Erik had a big head start. Plus, my backpack slowed me down.

“Come on, Erik,” I yelled.

He held my report in one fist. As his arms pumped back and forth, the pages flapped around. I knew they’d be wrinkled by the time I got them back. If I got them back.

I chased Erik through the locker banks, all around the East Quad and into the cafeteria. Erik weaved through tables and around kids. Some watched us, but most were too focused on their bagels and muffins to notice the commotion.