Puppy Love Read online

  “A forbidden love affair,” I said. “That’s totally romantic.”

  Shan giggled, which surprised me. Shan never giggles. She says it’s way too girly. But she had, and I knew that meant she was really into Hector.

  “Do you think you and Hector will, you know, kiss?” Like Shan, I whispered the last word. I don’t know why. It just felt so funny to say it.

  “No!” Shan said. “No way. I mean, well, I guess it could happen if he wanted to.”

  “That means you want to,” I teased.

  “I didn’t say that!” Shan objected. “That’s not fair.”

  “It’s okay. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind if Jack and I…” I stopped. I just couldn’t say it out loud, even if I was thinking about it.

  Shan sighed again. “Maybe we both will,” she said. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  “Maybe,” I said doubtfully. I was already nervous that I’d let someone else know about Jack, even though it was my best friend. It made it all more real somehow. Before, it had just been in my head.

  I heard voices in the background on Shan’s end of the phone.

  “That’s my grandmother,” Shan said. “I’ve got to go. Apparently, I’m going to learn how to make dumplings. Lucky me.”

  “Give me your number,” I said. “Then I can call you next time.”

  Shan read me the number, and I scribbled it on a piece of paper. I promised to call her in a few days, then I hung up. As soon as I did I felt lonely. It was great talking to her, but I still missed having her right there. Especially now that I was in the middle of a boy crisis.

  I picked up Fuzzy Wuzzy. He’s this stuffed bear I’ve had since I was really little. I used to take him everywhere with me, dragging him around by the paw until I was big enough to carry him. A lot of his fur is worn away now, but he’s still in pretty good shape. I keep him on my bed, which I know some people would think is kind of babyish for someone my age, but seeing him there makes me feel good.

  “What am I going to do about this?” I asked Fuzzy Wuzzy.

  Of course, he didn’t answer.

  “What if he does want to kiss me?” I said.

  I looked at Fuzzy Wuzzy’s face. I pretended he was Jack. What if I was standing there looking into Jack’s eyes? What would I do?

  Suddenly, I kissed Fuzzy Wuzzy. I closed my eyes, and I put my lips on his. Well, he doesn’t really have lips, but he has this sort-of mouth that’s sewn in black thread. So I kissed that.

  It felt weird. I put Fuzzy Wuzzy down.

  “There’s no way I can do that with a real boy,” I said. “No way. I’d die.”

  That’s when I decided that under no circumstances was I going to kiss Jack McKenna.

  Chapter Seven

  When I woke up on Saturday morning, I hoped it was raining. Pouring rain. With thunder and lightning. That way I wouldn’t have to go to Family Frolic. But it was sunny. Not only that, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It couldn’t have been a more perfect day for being outdoors. Thinking dark thoughts about Mother Nature, I dragged myself out of bed.

  By ten o’clock I was helping my parents unload the car at the Oak Club. My mother staked out a picnic table she liked, and I carried our basket over.

  “Hey there. Mind if we share your table?”

  Jack was standing beside me, holding a cooler. He was wearing khaki surfer shorts, a light blue T-shirt, and a Seattle Mariners baseball cap. As soon as I saw him I felt better. Actually, I felt kind of gurgly in my stomach, but not a bad kind of gurgly. He acted totally relaxed, which of course made me even more nervous.

  “No,” I said. “I mean, no, I don’t mind if you share. The table. With us.”

  “Great,” Jack said, putting the cooler down. “Mom. Dad. Over here,” he called to two people walking toward us.

  Mr. and Mrs. McKenna came over. I could totally tell they were Jack’s parents because it was like he’d gotten half of his looks from each of them. His mother was tall, like Jack. She had the same friendly smile, and her nose turned up a little at the end, just like Jack’s did. But Jack definitely got his hair and eyes from his dad, although Mr. McKenna’s hair was a lot shorter and he was wearing glasses.

  Jack said, “This is Allie. She’s the one who gave Barkley the great cut.”

  “Oh,” said Mrs. McKenna, smiling. “It’s so nice to meet you. Barkley looks very handsome.”

  “We’re going to share a table with Allie,” Jack told his mother.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Mrs. McKenna said. “I already told the Fitzmartins we’d sit with them. Megan invited us. Allie, I hope that’s all right?”

  “Sure,” I said, feeling my stomach gurgle again. This time, it was in a bad way. Just hearing Megan’s name made me sick.

  Jack looked at me. “Sorry about that,” he said as his parents walked over to the Fitzmartins, who had taken a table three over from ours. “I didn’t know. Anyway, I’ll see you on the field.”

  He left, and I got busy unpacking the picnic basket. It was really too early to be putting any food out, but I needed something to do. I could hear Megan’s voice as she greeted Jack and his parents, and I didn’t want to think about what she was saying to them.

  “Hey,” my father said, coming up and waving a piece of paper at me. “Guess what’s up first?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, completely not interested.

  “The three-legged race,” he informed me. “Think we can take first place?”

  I wanted to tell him that a three-legged race was the last thing I wanted to do. Every year for three years we had entered and every year we’d lost, twice to Megan and her father. But, as usual, my father seemed to think that this year things would be different. I could practically see him putting the trophy on the mantle over the fireplace. He looked so excited about it that I knew I couldn’t disappoint him. All I could do was nod and try to seem like I didn’t want to drop dead on the spot.

  Fifteen minutes later, he and I were standing at the starting line. My left leg was tied to his right one, and his arm was around my waist. Next to us, Megan and Mr. Fitzmartin were tied together by the opposite legs, so that Megan was right beside me.

  “I bet we win again this year,” Megan said loudly to her dad. I knew she’d said it for my benefit, and wasn’t surprised when she looked over at me and gave me a smirk that was supposed to look friendly, but which I knew wasn’t at all. “Good luck,” she said.

  Jack and his father came hopping up and took the position on our other side. Jack leaned forward and looked over at me. “Good luck,” he said, and unlike Megan, he sounded like he meant it.

  “You too,” I told him.

  When the whistle blew, my father and I hopped forward. It took a few steps before we got our rhythm going, but then we did pretty well. In fact, when I looked around, I saw that we were actually ahead of everyone else.

  Suddenly, I wanted to win. Despite everything I felt about Family Frolic being uncool, at that moment it was vital to the well-being of the entire planet that my dad and I win. I saw Megan and her father a step behind us. Megan was huffing and puffing as she tried to catch up. More than anything in the world, I wanted to beat her. Also, I wanted Jack to see me win. He and his dad were having a hard time coordinating their jumps, and they were way behind us. I didn’t want to beat Jack, but I wanted him to see me beat Megan. Right then I realized that I wasn’t just competing with Megan for a stupid ribbon; I was competing with her for Jack’s attention.

  “Come on!” I said to my dad. “Let’s win this!”

  We hopped faster, moving our single tied-together leg forward as quickly as we could. The finish line was only about ten feet away, and I knew we would cross it first if we could just keep going. I focused on the line and tried to block out everything else.

  I guess I blocked out too much, though, because all of a sudden we were falling. I don’t know if one of us tripped on something or what. All I know is that one second we were about to win and the next second
I was eating grass. I was facedown on the ground, and I couldn’t even turn over because I was tied to my father.

  Someone came over and cut the rope that was holding us together. I rolled over just in time to see Megan and her dad cross the finish line. They raised their arms in victory.

  “Well, we almost did it,” my father said, putting his arm around me.

  Almost. But almost wasn’t good enough. Megan took her trophy and waved it around for everyone to see, while I got up and tried to brush the grass stains from my shorts. Megan, one. Allie, zero, I thought as I walked back to the picnic table.

  Things only got worse. As the day went on, Megan made sure that any time an event was for teams of two, Jack was her partner. Badminton. Horseshoes. A lame treasure hunt where we had to find things hidden around the club. Every single time, Megan and Jack paired up.

  And what made it all really, really terrible—at least for me—is that Jack didn’t seem to mind. Whenever I looked over at him and Megan, he was laughing and having a great time. During lunch, I even saw him offer Megan a piece of fried chicken. From where I was sitting, it looked like he was practically feeding it to her.

  I did win one thing—a watermelon-eating contest. I ate all three of my slices in just under three minutes, even with my hands tied behind my back. Not that I’m all that proud of that accomplishment. After all, showing a guy you can eat like a pig doesn’t do much to increase his interest in you. Unless you really are a pig, I guess. Then it might be impressive. But somehow I didn’t think seeing me with my face covered in watermelon juice would make Jack fall crazy in love with me. And when I saw Megan pointing at me and laughing, I knew it wouldn’t. She hadn’t entered the contest, probably because she was afraid to get dirty.

  The final event of the day was the sunset softball game. Given the way the day had gone, it was no shock that Mr. Fitzmartin and my dad ended up being team captains. My dad picked me first, and Megan, of course, went to her dad’s team. When it came time for Mr. Fitzmartin to make his second choice, I saw Megan whisper something in his ear. Then Mr. Fitzmartin called Jack to his team, and I knew Megan had asked him to do it.

  Once teams were chosen, we started to play. The game was okay, I guess. I usually love to play sports, but I was in such a bad mood, I didn’t really pay a lot of attention. So when it came time for the last inning, I was totally taken by surprise when I realized the score was 11 to 12, in Megan’s team’s favor. Our team batted last, and I sat on the bench and watched as our first batter struck out. The second one hit a pitch into left field, and the runner got to second before the ball came back. Now if we could just get a good hit, we could score two runs and win.

  One thing I forgot to mention—Megan was pitching. That wasn’t much of a surprise. She’d played on our school’s team for three years, and although it pains me mortally to admit it, she’s pretty good. She knows it, too, and she was showing off. She kept pausing between pitches, concentrating like she was about to perform major surgery instead of throwing a stupid ball.

  Our third batter hit a pop fly, which was caught for our second out. That meant we only had one more chance.

  “Allie, you’re up.”

  I looked at my dad. “What?”

  “You’re up,” he said.

  “But…” I said dumbly. What I didn’t say was, “Are you crazy? There’s no way we’re going to win if you put me up there. I can’t hit a home run.” Like I said, I’m into sports, but I prefer soccer. Hitting things that are flying at my face isn’t my forte.

  “Go on,” my father said before I could make him understand the gravity of the situation. “You can do it.”

  I picked up my bat and walked to home plate. Standing there, I looked out at Megan watching me. She had a satisfied grin on her face, as if she knew she’d struck me out before she’d even thrown the first pitch. Behind her, I saw Jack standing between first and second base.

  I put the bat up and waited for Megan to throw the ball. When she did, I kept my eye on it, the way Ms. Quackenbush always told us to in gym class. Not that that had ever worked for me before, but I had to try. The ball was rushing at me. Don’t strike out, I told myself, and swung.

  I heard a loud “crack” as the bat hit the ball. Then I saw the ball flying away from me. Megan turned and watched it, a look of surprise on her face. I stood for a second, the bat still in my hand, watching her watch the ball. And at that very second, I realized how badly I wanted to show up Megan. Now I had my chance.

  Someone shouted, “Run!,” and I ran. I looked toward first base, which seemed really far away. Over in left field, the ball had soared over the player’s head. It was good. I saw the runner on second head toward third.

  I reached first base and turned. As I rushed toward second, I saw our runner round third. We were going to do it! We were going to win.

  Then I saw Jack running toward me. His softball glove was held out, and inside it the ball was tucked like a big egg. How did he get it? I wondered as my legs pumped like crazy. But I still had a chance.

  Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Jack ran at me. I saw second base. I heard people screaming for me to run faster. And then I felt Jack’s glove brush my side. I turned and looked at him. He mouthed the word “sorry” as I stumbled to a stop in front of him. I was so flustered from having him touch me, I didn’t realize what had happened.

  “Out!” someone yelled. Then “out” again as Jack threw the ball to home plate before our runner got there.

  It was over. We hadn’t won. My chance to be the big hero had failed. Worst of all, Jack was responsible for our loss.

  As Megan and her team congratulated one another, I walked to the bench, where my father stood smiling at me. “That was a great hit, sweetie!” he said.

  “It’s just a game,” I told him as I walked away from the cheers of Megan and her teammates, most of whom were friends of hers from school. Score another one for Megan, I thought nastily.

  Back at our picnic table, I was not happy to find my mother talking to Mrs. Fitzmartin and Mrs. McKenna. When they saw me, my mother asked, “How was the game?”

  Before I could answer, I heard Megan’s voice say, “It was great. Really close. But the other team couldn’t quite get it together to win.”

  “That’s too bad,” my mother said, as I ignored Megan and got myself a can of root beer from our cooler.

  “We were just talking about the youth committee,” Mrs. Fitzmartin said to Megan. “I think it would be nice if Allie joined.”

  Hearing my name, I turned around. “What’s this youth committee?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Megan said quickly. “You wouldn’t be into it.”

  “The youth committee to help plan the club’s Fourth of July celebration,” Mrs. Fitzmartin said. “Megan is on it. She says it’s a lot of fun.”

  “Actually, it’s a ton of work,” said Megan. She looked at me. “And we really have enough people,” she added.

  “Nonsense,” said her mother. “They can always use more help.”

  “I think it sounds like fun, Allie,” my mother said. “You should do it.”

  “Jack should, too,” Megan’s mom said to Jack’s.

  “Should what?” asked Jack, coming up and dropping his softball glove on the table.

  “Join the club’s youth committee,” his mother answered. “They’re planning a Fourth of July party.”

  “Oh, you should,” Megan chirped.

  “I thought you said there were already enough people,” I said to her.

  Megan ignored me. Jack looked at her. Then he turned to me. “I’ll join if you join,” he said.

  Megan’s smile faltered for a second. Then she said, “Great. We’ll have so much fun.”

  “Allie?” my mother asked. “How about it?”

  I looked over at Megan. She was glaring at me. I knew the last thing she wanted was for me to be on the committee. She especially didn’t want me there if Jack was going to be around. And I wasn’t exac
tly feeling so great about Jack, either. He’d been pretty chummy with Megan all day, and because of him I’d lost the game for my team. But despite everything, the idea of getting to be around Jack, even if it meant having to put up with Megan, still appealed to me.

  “Sure,” I said, hoping I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life. “I’d love to.”

  Chapter Eight

  The rest of the weekend, I felt like I was on a roller coaster. One minute I was mad at Jack, and the next minute I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d felt when our hands touched. I was pretty much always mad at Megan, because as far as I was concerned she was to blame for everything bad in the world, including global warming and the destruction of the rain forests. But Jack I just couldn’t figure out. Every time I thought maybe we were getting somewhere, he’d turn around and do something to make me think I was crazy for thinking that. I mean, if you like a girl, do you spend all day with her worst enemy? No. And you certainly don’t tag her out when she’s about to win the game, making her look completely stupid in front of everyone, including—again—her worst enemy.

  I just wasn’t sure Jack’s cuteness factor was high enough to make me forget about his behavior. Rufus could get away with just about anything when he looked at me with his puppy dog eyes, but Rufus had never intentionally humiliated me in front of two dozen people. When he did things that made me mad it was because he was acting like a dog. But Jack wasn’t a dog.

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” I told Shan on Sunday night, when I finally got hold of her and had filled her in on the latest Regrettable Incidents. “Maybe Jack is just acting like a guy, and guys are just naturally defective.”

  “I don’t know,” said Shan. “Hector is really nice. He always makes me feel good when he talks to me.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I feel so much better now.”

  “Sorry,” said Shan. “I wish I could tell you Hector was a jerkboy.”

  “You could at least lie,” I told her. “Has your grandmother found out yet?”