Puppy Love Page 3

  “Megan, I’m sorry,” I said.

  “You should be,” she said. “And you’re going to be even sorrier when I tell everyone I know not to bring their dogs here. And don’t think I’m paying you for today, either.”

  “No,” I said. “Of course not.” I was angry, and there were a few other things I wanted to say to her. But she was right. I hate to say it, but she was. I should never have left Tallulah alone. I was lucky that I’d found her at all.

  “I should have known better than to trust you with her,” said Megan, giving me one last evil look before storming out.

  I closed my eyes and sighed. How had Megan found out about Tallulah being lost? Unfortunately, the only answer to that question was the one answer I didn’t want to believe—the cute guy must have called her. But why? And how did he know who Tallulah belonged to? I didn’t know. And, really, it didn’t matter. The damage was already done. I knew Megan would make good on her promise to tell everyone how I’d messed up. No one would want to bring their dogs to the girl who let them run away. It was only my first day, and already I’d run the business into the ground.

  At least my mother wasn’t around to see what had happened. That was the only good thing.

  As I walked home with Rufus—we live only a few streets away from the shop—I went over and over in my head what had happened during the day. Megan was right; I was an idiot. And now everybody would think so.

  And it was all that guy’s fault. What a jerk. Why did he have to call Megan? I wondered. Didn’t he trust me? Did he think I was trying to steal Tallulah or something? And how did he know she belonged to Megan? He probably thought I was completely incompetent. And I was an even bigger loser for thinking he was cute in the first place. Now, thanks to him, my perfect summer was ruined.

  Chapter Four

  The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I got. Sure, Tallulah was my responsibility, and because I wasn’t watching her as closely as I should have been, she got out. But when I found her she was fine. It was an accident. But the guy at the pound apparently thought I needed to be punished. Why else would he have called Megan when he knew Tallulah was with me and was okay?

  What a jerkboy. Jerkboy is a Shanword. That’s the term my father came up with for Shan’s weird way of describing things. She’s really good at creating them, and sometimes she comes up with Shanwords that are totally on target.

  I decided to call the guy Jerkboy whenever I thought about him. Not that I was thinking about him, or his big, brown eyes, or the way his hair fell in his face. Okay, so I was thinking about those things, at least a little bit. And that made me even madder. Jerkboys aren’t supposed to be cute, and you’re not supposed to think about how nice and soft their lips look. But this one was, and I was.

  Still, he had ruined my life, so he was definitely off-limits as far as the whole “I wonder what it would be like to kiss him” thing went. Not that I’d ever really, actually, you know…kissed anyone. Besides my parents and some relatives, of course. Everyone’s done that. I mean real people. Boys. I hadn’t kissed a boy. But I’d thought about doing it. And now I was thinking about doing it with Jerkboy. Too bad I’d been such a spaz both times he saw me. No wonder he didn’t like me. Ugh!

  This is the thing about boys—they can be really, really irritating, but you still think about what it would be like to kiss them. It’s one of the great Mysteries of the Universe, as Shan calls anything you can’t explain. Not that boys are all that mysterious. I mean, there’s not a lot to figure out about a group of people who spend most of their time playing video games and acting like five-year-olds. What’s mysterious is why any of us like them at all.

  Since my thinking about kissing Jerkboy definitely did not make any sense, I decided to stop thinking about him. But that didn’t work out so well. So then I tried picturing Megan’s face every time I thought about him. I imagined her telling me what a loser I was, and I imagined Jerkboy standing behind her, laughing at me. That worked better, but it also made me even angrier. Now I was mad at Jerkboy and Megan.

  I took it out on my peas during dinner. I don’t much like peas anyway, so it was easy to imagine that they were Megan and Jerkboy as I stabbed them with my fork. It was actually really stress relieving.

  “I hear you had a great first day on the job,” my father said as I swallowed the Jerkboy and Megan peas and wiped my mouth.

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding my head. “It was a lot of fun.”

  My father totally missed the snarkiness in my tone. That’s one of the cool things about him—he always assumes things are going great. Considering that he’s an insurance claims investigator, you’d think it would be exactly the opposite. I mean, he spends all day looking at pictures of houses that have burned down and cars that have been in accidents, and reading stolen property reports. You’d think he’d be totally cynical. But he’s not. In fact, he’s probably the most optimistic person I know.

  “She’s fantastic with the dogs,” my mother told my father. “I heard nothing but great things about her today.”

  I didn’t point out that she’d heard only great things because she wasn’t there when Megan showed up to get Tallulah. There was no point in ruining her good impression of my dog-watching skills. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t entirely honest of me not to tell her about what happened, but bringing it up was just going to make her worry, and, really, would that do anyone any good? I didn’t think so.

  I did, however, change the subject. I got my father talking about stars. As in astronomy. My father is really into stars and planets and stuff, and from the time I was little, he’s taught me about the constellations. It’s bordering on science geekdom, I know, but I don’t care. I think stars are cool. And getting my dad to talk about them meant we wouldn’t talk about my day.

  “I’m glad you reminded me,” he said. “If it’s clear tonight, we should be able to see Vulpecula, the Little Fox. Did you know Vulpecula contains the Dumbell Nebula, which is the easiest planetary nebula to see with a telescope?”

  The Dumbell Nebula, I thought. That’s where I should live. I let him talk for a few more minutes, then excused myself. I disappeared to my room to worry some more. Besides being angry at Megan and Jerkboy, I was also afraid that Megan might make good on her promise and tell everyone how I’d let Tallulah escape. I knew for sure she would tell her parents, and since they were friends with my parents, I figured I could pretty much count on my mother and father finding out eventually.

  But it was other people I was more concerned about. What if Megan really did manage to convince other customers not to leave their dogs at Perfect Paws? The entire day care business would be over. And I knew she was totally capable of ruining someone’s reputation. Once, when we were in sixth grade, Rachel Mankowitz said Megan’s skirt was ugly. Megan got back at her by spreading a rumor all over school that Rachel padded her bra with Kleenex, and for the next two years everyone called Rachel “The Stuffer.”

  Thinking about it made me mad all over again. Why did Megan have to be so mean? She had everything she could possibly want. Her father ran the biggest law firm in town. They had a nice house. Megan always had new clothes. She was popular. Basically, she got whatever she wanted. But she was still nasty.

  I’ve seen enough movies to know that girls like Megan are supposed to end up being misunderstood people who just want a real friend. Well, Megan isn’t like that. She’s nasty all the way through, like a solid milk chocolate Easter bunny made out of meanness.

  I tried to distract myself from my depression by reading after dinner. I was working my way through a Jane Austen book, Pride & Prejudice, which I’d decided to read after seeing the completely amazing movie with Keira Knightley. She plays Elizabeth Bennet, who falls in love with this dreamy guy named Mr. Darcy. At first, the two of them make each other crazy because they’re always arguing. But then they realize they’re in love, and that’s when things get really interesting. If you haven’t seen or read it, you’re only missing one
of the best love stories ever.

  Anyway, I read for a while, and I really did start to forget about how much Jerkboy and Megan were bugging me. A good book can do that. By the time I went to bed I was feeling almost okay about everything.

  When I woke up the next morning the first thing I saw was Rufus’s big head. He was sitting beside my bed, waiting for me to get up. As I rubbed his ears, my first thought was that I was going to spend the day with dogs. The second thing I thought about was what had happened with Tallulah.

  It was like someone poured a bucket of cold water over my head. I sat up and looked at Rufus. His tail was sweeping back and forth across the floor and his ears were perked up hopefully. “All right,” I said. “I’m getting up.”

  Rufus jumped up and ran downstairs to get his breakfast as I stretched and tried to get excited about my day. Half an hour later, I walked with him over to Perfect Paws. My mother was already there, getting things ready for the first customers.

  “It looks like you’ve got five dogs today,” she said as I let Rufus into the backyard. “Three repeats and two new ones.”

  “Anyone I know?” I asked her.

  “Pythagoras, Emmy, and Skunk will be here at nine,” my mother told me. “The two new ones are coming in a few minutes. I don’t know who they are. A man just called and said he’d heard good things about us.”

  She hadn’t mentioned Tallulah, which was a relief. It meant that Megan hadn’t called to complain. Yet. It was still early. But the news about the new customers made me feel better.

  The two new dogs came in a few minutes later. They were both Chihuahuas, one brown and one black. The man with them was someone I’d never seen before.

  “Good morning,” I said. “Welcome to Perfect Paws.” I knelt down to say hello to the dogs, who looked at me suspiciously and stayed near the man.

  “Don’t mind them,” the man said. “They’re always like this until they get to know you.”

  I held out my hand, and the brown Chihuahua sniffed it.

  “That’s Frida,” the man told me. “Her companion is Diego. And I am Salvador Sanchez, the person fortunate enough to be their guardian.”

  “Well, Frida, you’re very pretty,” I said.

  Frida’s ears went up, and she wagged her tail at me.

  “Ah, you know how to get her to like you,” Mr. Sanchez said. “She’s very vain. They both are.”

  “We’re happy to have them here,” I said, standing up. “Do they get along with other dogs?”

  “Between you and me, they’re very opinionated,” Mr. Sanchez answered, speaking softly, as if the dogs might hear him and be offended. “They think Chihuahuas are the greatest of all dogs. But I’ve told them they must be on their best behavior for you.”

  “I’m sure everyone will love them,” I said as I took the dogs’ leashes from him. “When will you be back for them?”

  “This afternoon around four o’clock,” Mr. Sanchez informed me. “I teach history at the university, and today, unfortunately, I have a very long department meeting. I would take the little ones with me, but I fear their patience for such things is nonexistent. If the conversation is not about them, they are completely uninterested.”

  I laughed. “I’ll try to make them feel important,” I assured him.

  “I’m sure you will,” he said. “My friend Albert Wexman recommends you very highly.”

  So that was how he had heard about us. I was happy that at least one person thought I was good at my job. I made a mental note to thank Mr. Wexman when he brought Pythagoras in.

  Mr. Sanchez left, and I let Diego and Frida loose in the back with Rufus. When he ran up to them, they stood side by side, their ears pointed up, and sniffed him cautiously. Then they turned around and ran off together. Rufus watched them for a minute, then threw himself down in the grass and started chewing on a tennis ball.

  The other three dogs arrived one after the other, and by nine o’clock, everyone was in the back. I was happy when Frida and Diego ran up to Pythagoras and wagged their tails, as if they were happy to see him again. They ignored Skunk and Emmy at first, but pretty soon, everyone was playing with one another.

  As the day went on, I relaxed more and more. Every time the phone rang I was afraid it was Megan or her parents calling to tell my mother about the Regrettable Incident. But when they hadn’t called by noon, I decided the whole thing was behind me. Best of all, I knew I would never have to see Tallulah again, and that was fine with me.

  As the dogs were picked up and went home, I congratulated myself on a successful second day. Everyone was coming back the next day, and we’d gotten two more calls from new customers.

  That night at dinner, I didn’t pretend my carrots were anything but carrots. I talked excitedly about my day when my father asked about it, and when my mother remarked how happy she was that the day care idea was taking off, I felt myself grinning. Maybe, I thought, it really would turn out to be a great summer after all.

  Then my father dropped the bomb.

  “I almost forgot,” he said as I was reaching for my second piece of fried chicken. “I signed us up for the Family Frolic at the club this weekend.”

  “You did?” I asked, hoping he was kidding.

  “What?” he said. “You love Family Frolic.”

  Let me stop right here and say that I do not love Family Frolic. Okay, maybe I liked it when I was six, but that was before I realized how totally humiliating it could be.

  Family Frolic is this thing they do at the country club my parents belong to. When I say country club, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. This isn’t some totally fancy place that only rich people belong to. The Oak Club is nice and all, but it’s not like everyone wears big white hats and drinks tea or anything. It’s more like a social club. There’s a pool, a golf course, and tennis courts, and there’s even a pond you can row boats on. Most people in town belong to it.

  The club holds Family Frolic once a year. What happens is, families compete against one another in different games, like horseshoes, badminton, three-legged races—that kind of thing. The big event is a softball game in the afternoon. It’s supposed to be a chance for everyone to get to know their neighbors and for families to bond, but really it’s just totally hideous in the most embarrassing, cringeworthy way, especially if you’re a kid.

  “Do we have to go?” I asked.

  “Yes, we have to go,” my father said. “It’s fun.”

  Fun for you, I wanted to say. But he seemed so into it that I kept quiet, gnawing at my chicken leg instead. I actually like going to the club, but only with Shan to use the pool. Otherwise, I’m not so into it. And one big reason I’m not into it is because Megan is there almost all the time. She and her friends like to hang out by the pool drinking Cokes, reading gossip magazines, and trying to get the college guys who work as lifeguards during the summer to pay attention to them. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of them actually swim.

  But my father was apparently all excited about it. And anyway, he’s spent enough time taking me to movies he probably would never have gone to see if it had been up to him, and driving me to soccer practice and games and stuff. The least I could do was go to Family Frolic.

  Besides, I told myself, how bad could it really be?

  Chapter Five

  On Wednesday I got to Perfect Paws a little bit early so that I could help my mom set up for the grooming appointments, since we had more than the usual number signed up. I put out stacks of towels and made sure the shampoo and conditioner bottles were filled. I only had three dogs registered for day care, so I was looking forward to maybe helping out with some of the grooming, too. Playing with the dogs was fun, but actually doing hands-on stuff would be even better.

  “Mrs. Trumble is bringing Charles in first thing,” my mother told me as she laid out her clippers and combs.

  I rolled my eyes. Mrs. Trumble and Charles are probably our least-favorite customers. Well, Mrs. Trumble is, anyway. Charles is ac
tually a sweet dog. He’s a Pekingese, so his fur needs to be trimmed regularly or it grows in his eyes. He’s good about letting you cut it, but Mrs. Trumble always hovers around, telling you you’re cutting it too short and letting out these little gasps whenever you put the scissors near Charles’s face, like you’re going to poke his eye out or something. It’s incredibly annoying, and no matter how nicely you suggest that maybe she should go out for a while and come back in an hour, she never gets the hint.

  At a quarter to nine, Mrs. Skelton came in with Skunk. I smelled him before he even got to the door, and I could tell by the look on Mrs. Skelton’s face that Skunk had run into one of his little friends.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Skelton said as Skunk sat beside her, looking guilty. “It happened on his walk this morning, and I don’t have time to bathe him before I go to work. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not,” I told her. “I’ll put him in the tub and have him smelling good as new in no time.”

  “Thank you so much,” said Mrs. Skelton, sighing. She looked down at Skunk, who shook his head and yawned, like he didn’t know what all the fuss was about.

  “Come on, Skunk,” I said, taking his leash and leading him toward the tubs. He’s been through the drill so many times that he hopped up onto the wooden platform beside the tub and climbed right in.

  As I was rubbing the shampoo into Skunk’s fur, Pythagoras came in with Mr. Wexman, followed by Mr. Berd and Figaro. All four of them sniffed the air, then looked at Skunk, who was now covered in soapsuds.

  “Hey,” I said as I started to rinse the shampoo away. “You can let the boys out back. I’ll be done in a minute.”

  As I was putting the special antistink rinse on Skunk, I heard the door open. Assuming it was Mrs. Trumble and Charles, I didn’t look up, hoping my mother would help her.

  “Ah-hem,” said a voice, sounding annoyed.