Puppy Love Read online

  “Megan,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  I need to stop for a minute and explain why I was surprised, and not in a good way, to see her. Megan is Megan Fitzmartin. She’s also known, at least to me and Shan, as Miss Perfection. That’s because she thinks she is. Perfect, I mean. And she likes to remind you as often as possible of this supposed fact, usually while telling you exactly what’s wrong with you. Depending on your point of view, she’s either the queen or the terror of James Madison Middle School. That point of view is usually determined by whether you’re a guy or a girl. There are girls who like Megan, or at least pretend to so that she’ll let them be her friends, but mostly it’s the guys who act like she’s the best thing since the iPod.

  I know this makes me sound like I’m jealous of Megan, but honestly, she’s awful. I mean, she is pretty. She has long, blond hair and bright blue eyes and all of that typical pretty-girl stuff going on. It’s just her insides that need work. My mother keeps telling me that things will be different when we’re in high school this fall, and Megan is a freshman and just as new and socially unacceptable as the rest of us. But I don’t know. Girls like Megan have a way of escaping the torture the rest of us mere mortals have to endure. I bet she’ll be prom queen right off the bat.

  It doesn’t help that I’ve never really thought of myself as pretty, at least not in the way that Megan is pretty. My hair is reddish-brown, and most of the time I wear it in a ponytail because I’m always running around doing something and I don’t have a lot of time to spend standing in front of the mirror with a curling iron or blow-dryer. I have green eyes and pale skin that freckles almost instantly if I get any sun, and since I love being outdoors, I almost always have a scattering of tan-colored dots on my face.

  Where Megan is downright skinny, I’m what my dad calls “athletic.” What he means is that I’m sort of a tomboy. I like to play soccer, and I try to go running a couple of times a week. Oh, and I went through this growth spurt last year and grew something like three inches. At first, being taller than so many of the other girls (and even some of the boys) in my class made me feel awkward, but I’m used to it now. I confess, though, that I’m still kind of waiting for my chest to catch up with the rest of me. My mom swears it will happen any day now, and mostly I don’t worry about it, but sometimes—like when I look at Megan—I feel a little behind in that department.

  Anyway, when I saw that it was Megan standing in front of the counter, I immediately felt kind of inadequate. She was wearing this completely cute pink sweater over a white T-shirt, and her jeans fit her perfectly. I, in comparison, was wearing a pair of old shorts and a blue polo shirt with the Perfect Paws logo embroidered on it. Sure, I was dressed that way because I was working with dogs, but I couldn’t help thinking that Megan looked way better.

  I wasn’t shocked that she was yelling like that. Megan thinks everyone else exists to do what she wants, and when you don’t, she usually yells, as if maybe you just didn’t hear her and she needs to repeat herself. Still, I couldn’t understand why she was there at all. She’d never come into the shop before.

  Then I saw that she was holding a poodle in her arms. Now, not to disparage poodles or anything. They get a bad rap, and I know there are a lot of nice ones. But this poodle just looked like trouble. First of all, she had on a sweater. It was pink, just like Megan’s. Maybe there are dogs who need to wear sweaters, like sled dogs or dogs who work outside in places where it’s cold. But in June, no dog needs to wear a sweater. And this poodle was clipped and primped and puffed so much she looked like one of those bushes they turn into animal shapes.

  “This is Tallulah,” Megan informed me. “I want to leave her here for the day.”

  “Are you in summer school?” I asked her, wondering why she might need to put her dog in day care.

  Megan sneered at me. “No, I’m not in summer school,” she said, rolling her eyes and doing a bad imitation of my voice. “I’m going to the mall.”

  “You want to leave your dog here while you go shopping?” I said, assuming she was joking.

  “Yes,” said Megan. “Is that a problem?”

  Just looking at Tallulah, I could tell she was going to be a handful. The fact that she belonged to Megan only made it worse. But my mother and Megan’s mother are actually friends (Mrs. Fitzmartin is nice, so Shan and I have this theory that somehow her real baby got mixed up with Megan at the hospital), and I knew my mom would be upset if I turned Megan away. Besides, as my dad always says, a customer is a customer.

  “No,” I told Megan. “That’s no problem.”

  “Good,” Megan said, thrusting Tallulah at me. “I’ll be back at six. Bye.”

  She turned and walked out, not even bothering to say good-bye to Tallulah or tell me anything about her, like if she got along with other dogs or was allergic to grass or liked biscuits. I looked down at the little dog in my arms. “I guess one more won’t hurt,” I said. “Maybe you’ll be lucky number seven.”

  Tallulah looked up at me and bared her teeth.

  “Or maybe not,” I said as I took her to the backyard.

  I took Tallulah’s sweater off so she wouldn’t overheat, then put her down. The other dogs ran over to see the new arrival. Walter and Wendell were the first ones to try and greet her. Tallulah bared her teeth again, then nipped at Wendell’s ear. He yipped and ran away, followed by his brother. The other dogs pulled back and stared at Tallulah, who turned in a tight little circle, growling at everyone.

  She was just getting warmed up. Over the next few hours, everybody got a nip from Tallulah at some point. She stole the other dogs’ toys. She barked for no reason. She kept digging at the fence, getting herself all dirty and tearing up the grass. She wouldn’t listen, and every time I tried to get near her, she growled and ran away. Finally I gave up on her and left her alone while I played with the rest of the dogs.

  Apart from Tallulah, everything was going really well. I was enjoying my first day on the job, and I was pleased that the day care idea seemed to be working. My mother was happy too.

  “I’m impressed with how you’re handling all these dogs,” she said when she came out to check on things right after lunch. “You really have a way with them.”

  “All of them except Tallulah,” I told her.

  “She’ll get used to being here,” my mother said. “Give her time.”

  The thing was, I didn’t want her to get used to being there. I wanted her gone. One day with her was bad enough. The thought that Megan might actually bring her back was too horrible to even think about. I didn’t tell my mom that, though. She was so happy, that I wanted her to think everything was perfect.

  In the afternoon, after the Twins and Py went home, I thought maybe it would be nice to take everyone for a walk. The dogs all got excited when they saw the leashes. Except for Tallulah. She wouldn’t come near me. She just barked and snapped and ran away whenever I got within five feet of her.

  “Fine,” I told her. “You can stay here all by yourself while the rest of us have a nice walk.”

  I figured that being alone would be good for her, sort of like a time-out you might give to a kid who’s misbehaving. Maybe if she saw that being nasty wasn’t getting her anywhere she would start being nicer.

  With everyone else leashed up, I took four happy dogs for a walk. We walked about five blocks in each direction, making a square, and everybody sniffed and peed and did what dogs do on walks. It was a nice end to the day, and I was already looking forward to having more fun the next day.

  When we got back to the shop, it took me a minute to realize that something wasn’t right. Then I realized that Tallulah wasn’t barking. Not only wasn’t she barking, she wasn’t doing anything. I looked all around the backyard, thinking maybe I just couldn’t see her. Then I saw the hole. Tallulah had dug under the fence. And hanging from the bottom of the fence was her collar. It had gotten caught, and she’d slipped right out of it.

  “Tallulah!” I called, try
ing to sound as if nothing was wrong. My mother was working in the little office at the back of the store, and I didn’t want her to hear me. “Here, Tallulah!”

  I didn’t really expect her to come, and she didn’t. But I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I didn’t want to accept the truth, which was that she had clearly run away.

  “Now what?” I asked out loud. I looked at the other dogs, as if they might know where Tallulah had gone. They just sniffed at the hole under the fence and turned away. Probably, I thought, they were happy to see her go.

  I looked at my watch. It was just after four. Megan was coming at six. That gave me two hours to find Tallulah. I figured that since my mother apparently hadn’t noticed Tallulah’s absence yet, she must have run off right before we got back from the walk, which meant she probably hadn’t gotten very far. But I couldn’t just leave the other dogs to go look for her. Their owners would be coming for them soon. And I really didn’t want to ask my mother to cover for me because then she’d know that I’d screwed up. I was just going to have to wait until the other dogs went home, then hope I had enough time to find Tallulah before Megan showed up.

  Suddenly, my perfect first day had become a nightmare.

  Chapter Three

  Luckily for me everyone arrived to pick up their dogs in the next half hour. My mother, absorbed in her paperwork, hadn’t noticed that Tallulah was missing, and left to do some grocery shopping for dinner. With everyone gone, that gave me an hour and a half to find Tallulah. The only problem was, I had no idea where to look for her. I knew that once she’d gotten under the fence she could have gone anywhere. Because she wouldn’t come to me even if I got near her, I knew it was a waste of time to just go up and down the streets calling her name.

  My only hope was that someone else had already found her and had somehow managed to get her to come to them. Even then I’d have to find whoever had her and get her back. Without her collar and tags, anyone finding her would have no idea who she belonged to, and they certainly wouldn’t know to call Perfect Paws. I was going to have to knock on every door and ask if anyone had seen her or caught her. But there was no way I could get to so many houses. I was doomed.

  Unless, I thought, she’s at the pound. That was my only real chance. If someone had caught Tallulah, they might have taken her to the animal shelter. But they also might have kept her. People usually feel sorry for strays, and it was possible someone had found Tallulah, thought she was cute, and decided to take her in.

  Then I reminded myself that this was Tallulah I was talking about. Sure, someone might think she was cute. But then she’d probably bite them or do something else to make herself totally unappealing. Then the pound would look like a great idea. For the first time, I hoped Tallulah was being her nasty little self.

  I put the CLOSED sign on the shop door and prayed that my mother wouldn’t come back for anything and see it. I know it was irresponsible to leave the shop, but the way I saw it, I was quickly becoming the queen of irresponsible.

  The shelter isn’t too far from the shop, so getting there on my bike took me only about ten minutes. Now it was getting close to five. If Tallulah wasn’t there, I was a goner. I left my bike outside and ran in.

  “Can I help you?” a woman behind the counter asked.

  “I’m looking for a lost dog,” I said. “A poodle. She would have come in today.”

  “Strays are in kennel three,” she told me. “If you go through that door and down the hall, you’ll see it. There should be a volunteer there to help you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, rushing toward the door.

  I found kennel number three and pushed open the door. As soon as I walked in, all the dogs started barking. A sad-looking boxer ran up to the door of his cage and looked at me hopefully, like maybe I was his missing owner. When he saw that I wasn’t, he whined.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” I said, sticking my hand through the bars and rubbing his head. “I’m sure someone will be here for you soon.”

  “You shouldn’t do that,” a voice said, startling me.

  I pulled my hand back. “Sorry,” I said, turning around. “He just looked so sad.”

  When I saw who had spoken, I stopped talking. It took me a moment to realize that it was the guy from the park, the one who had helped me catch Rufus. The cute guy. He was wearing dirty coveralls with the shelter logo on the pocket, which is why I didn’t recognize him at first. But even in dirty clothes he was still really cute.

  “Oh,” I said. “It’s you.”

  “Do I know you?” he asked me.

  “Yesterday,” I said. “The park. You caught my dog for me.”

  “That’s where I’ve seen you,” he said. “I thought you looked familiar. Don’t tell me you lost him again?”

  “What?” I said, thinking about the way his eyes looked when he smiled at me. Then I remembered why I was there. “Oh. No. I’m not here for Rufus,” I explained. “I’m looking for another dog.”

  “You lost another dog?” he said, looking shocked. “Is this, like, something you do on a regular basis?”

  I felt myself blushing. “No,” I said. “This one isn’t mine. She belongs to a, uh, friend,” I added. I didn’t add that even though Tallulah wasn’t mine, I was still the one who had lost her.

  “What kind of dog?” the guy asked.

  “A poodle,” I said. “White. Small. Kind of snippy.”

  “You may be in luck,” he said. “Someone brought in a poodle about an hour ago. He said she was digging up his flowers.”

  “That sounds like Tallulah,” I said.

  “Over here,” he said, walking around the corner.

  I followed him. He pointed to one of the cages. When I saw Tallulah sitting inside, I almost yelled with joy. “That’s her!”

  Tallulah looked at me and bared her teeth.

  “She doesn’t look too thrilled to see you,” the guy said.

  “She and I don’t exactly get along,” I told him. “I’m just doing this as a favor for my friend. I’m so glad she’s here. Come on, Tallulah.”

  I knelt in front of the cage and patted my leg. Tallulah turned away from me and started licking her foot.

  “Tallulah,” I said, more firmly this time. She ignored me.

  “Let me try,” the guy suggested. He knelt beside me and whistled softly. “Tallulah,” he said. “Come here, pretty girl.”

  Tallulah turned around and looked at him. She wagged her tail and trotted to the door. Sticking her nose out, she licked the guy’s fingers gently.

  “You just have to know how to talk to them,” he told me.

  I didn’t say anything, but I could feel my cheeks heating up. I was annoyed that Tallulah was acting like a good dog for him. And, yes, I was also a tiny bit jealous that he had called her a pretty girl. I’ll admit it. It may sound silly, but I kind of thought it would be nice if he called me pretty.

  “I should get you home,” I told Tallulah. “Your mommy will be missing you.”

  “That might be a problem,” the guy told me.

  “Problem?” I said. “Why?”

  “Well, we’re only supposed to let the dogs go home with their owners. You’re not her owner.”

  “Oh, but I might as well be,” I said. “Her owner is practically my best friend.” I’m not used to lying, and I could tell my face was getting even redder, if that was possible.

  “Yeah,” he said. “But I could get in a lot of trouble.”

  “Please,” I said, trying to sound sad. “I have her tags! And I can’t stand to see her locked up in there. And I know her mom won’t be able to come right away. Can’t you just let me take her?”

  He looked at Tallulah. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just started here. I’d hate to make a bad impression so soon.”

  I know exactly how you feel, I thought to myself. Only my bad impression was going to be made on Megan, and she would never let me forget it. I had to get Tallulah, and soon. I only had twenty minutes before Megan
was coming to pick up her dog.

  “I know it’s sort of against the rules,” I said, trying to look sad and helpless. “But she’s so scared. Can’t you help her?” And me, I thought, hoping he would give in.

  He sighed. “Okay,” he said. “But you can’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Promise,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

  He opened Tallulah’s cage and picked her up. When he handed her to me, she looked at me and growled. I ignored her.

  “Thanks again,” I said. “I really, really appreciate it.”

  I left as quickly as I could without running. I had to get home, and fast. I was on my bike, holding Tallulah against my stomach with one hand and steering with the other, when I realized that, once again, I’d forgotten to get the cute guy’s name. But I didn’t have time to worry about that. I had to get back in time to meet Megan.

  I made it with only a couple of minutes to spare. I was just putting Tallulah’s sweater on her and trying to brush off as much of the dirt as I could when Megan came bursting through the door.

  “What happened to her?” she shouted.

  “Oh, she was just playing in the dirt,” I said, trying to sound casual. “It’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Megan said. “Then why did I get a call from the animal shelter saying someone found my dog wandering around the streets?”

  “You did?” I asked, hoping I sounded as confused as I was. How could anyone have phoned Megan? I hadn’t told anyone at the shelter that Tallulah belonged to her. “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure, you idiot,” Megan said. She snatched Tallulah from me. “I came here to find out what they were talking about.”

  “Maybe it was a mistake,” I suggested. “As you can see, she’s right here.”

  “Well, she wasn’t right here when I got the call,” Megan snapped. “I don’t know how you got her back, but I know you managed to lose her somehow.”

  “She’s fine,” I pointed out. “A little dirty, but fine.”

  “That’s not the point,” said Megan. “The point is, you lost her. What kind of day care is this?”