by Annie Bryant
“Sorry, I really thought…” the girl began, searching for the right words.
Charlotte hung her head and nodded. “It was really nice of you to call.”
“Let’s not be so hasty, girls,” Ms. Kaplan said, taking the dog from the girl and holding him up in the air. “Look at this little guy’s face. What a cutie. He may not be Marty…but he still needs a home.”
“MOM!” Maeve exclaimed, taking the dog from her mother’s arms and giving it back to the girl. “We came here for Marty. We don’t need a substitute. We’re going to find Marty. Come on, Charlotte,” Maeve said, putting her arm around her dejected friend as they walked back through the room of barking and yapping.
They could still hear the dogs when they got in the car.
Charlotte was quiet the entire ride home. As soon as they dropped her off and pulled away from the curb, Maeve finally spoke.
“Mom, I can’t believe how you were pushing that dog on Charlotte. She doesn’t want any dog. She wants Marty,” Maeve said.
“I know. I was only trying to help, and I felt so bad for that little dog. I hope someone adopts him,” Ms. Kaplan said, glancing in the rearview mirror back at Maeve.
“Not just any dog can replace Marty.”
Ms. Kaplan gave Maeve what was meant to be a reassuring smile. “I know that Marty is important to you girls, honey, but we have to be realistic here. The longer Marty is lost, the less likely it is that we will find him. I hate to see you getting your hopes up and then having them dashed.”
Maeve stared out the window. Where had that little dude gone? she wondered.
CHAPTER
10
Gone for Good?
Wednesday morning was raw and gray. Charlotte stared out the window for a long time trying to motivate herself to get out of bed. Marty had been gone less than five days, but Charlotte missed him so much it hurt. She never realized how much of her morning was spent with the little guy—walking him, feeding him, and playing with him. Now she felt alone.
As she packed up her backpack, she realized the school week was half over. Tuesday had come and gone with no word about Marty. She glanced at her watch…he had been missing for ninety hours. Heading down Beacon Street, Charlotte hardly heard Yuri the grocer call to her.
“Hey, sad girl. You want apple, no?” Yuri called to her as she passed by the bins and tubs of fruit outside of his grocery store.
Charlotte really didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but to pass by and not say anything would be rude.
“No thank you, Yuri,” she said.
“Sad face tells me that the Marty dog is still missing, no?” Yuri asked.
Charlotte couldn’t say anything. She just nodded her head sadly. She told Yuri how she had built her hopes up so much on Monday night when the Sawgrass Animal Shelter had called. How she was sure that it was Marty. How she had rushed to the shelter and found not Marty, but another poor lost dog, who looked as sad as she felt.
This morning, Charlotte felt so bad that she called the shelter to check on the little dog. The receptionist had told her that the owner had shown up. She could just imagine the happy scene between the timid little dog and the owner. It made her happy to think that the dog was rescued, but it also made her jealous and depressed.
“Come, I have just the thing to cheer you up,” Yuri said, motioning for Charlotte to follow him inside.
He picked up a reddish-orange colored fruit resembling a pear and polished it.
“Here,” he said, placing it in her hand. “Guaranteed to put a smile on your face.”
“What is it?” Charlotte asked.
“What matters the name…? You try.”
Charlotte took a bite. The fruit was juicy and so good. Sweet. Juice trickled down her chin. Charlotte couldn’t help giggling as she grabbed a napkin from Yuri’s hand. The taste stayed in her mouth.
“See! Yuri’s right, no?”
“What is it?” Charlotte asked as she took a second bite. She was ready for the juice this time.
“An Asian pear. Fruit of the gods.”
Charlotte nodded and was glad she had left home fifteen minutes early so she had time to savor the Asian pear.
“See this,” Yuri said. Yuri held up a bone. “This is best soup bone in house. I’ve saved it for your four-legged friend. A celebration bone for his happy return.”
“I don’t know….” Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know, Yuri. He’s been gone so long. I’m not sure if he’s ever coming back.”
Yuri scoffed. “Dogs have built-in homing device. I’ve heard story of dog traveling halfway across the country. Incredible stories…in United States and also in Russia. Marty is smart one. That I know. “
“Thanks, Yuri. I hope you are right.” She actually had a smile on her face as she continued on her way to school.
Dogstar
The day was as dismal as the weather. Charlotte passed from class to class without really hearing her teachers. Ms. Rodriguez stopped her in the hall and asked her if there had been any word about Marty. Charlotte shook her head and was relieved that all Ms. R did was pat her on the shoulder. She didn’t want to keep her hopes up if Marty really wasn’t going to be found. For the first time since she had come to Abigail Adams Junior High, Charlotte didn’t eat lunch with the Beacon Street Girls. She went to the library instead. She was too sad to make chit-chat with Avery…or anyone else.
Later that afternoon when she got home, she rushed to check the answering machine. No messages. She checked the website. Nothing. She pulled her comforter and a big pillow out onto her balcony and watched the street below. In her reporter’s notebook, Charlotte wrote down the sensations of eating an Asian pear—juicier than an apple, crisp, yummy. Perhaps she could use them in a poem later.
After dinner, Charlotte checked the website again. This time there was a message! Someone said they had found Marty! Her heart began to pound with excitement. She cautioned herself against getting her hopes up too high again. This might be another false alarm. But she couldn’t help herself. She was excited.
The message was from someone with the screen name Dogstar. Dogstar said that he had Marty penned in his yard because he was extremely allergic to dogs. Dogstar also wrote that he didn’t have a car, so he couldn’t bring Marty to them, but that Charlotte could pick up Marty anytime at the following address: 400 Weeble Street. What a weird street name, thought Charlotte.
Of course this would happen on a Wednesday when her father had not one, but two night classes. Charlotte text-messaged her father, hoping that he would check his cell phone between classes.
If only she could e-mail her address to Dogstar. But she promised her father she would never e-mail her address to anyone she didn’t personally know. For now, all she could do was wait.
Charlotte nearly jumped when her cell phone rang. She stumbled over her book bag to reach it and stubbed her toe. All her father could hear was Charlotte groaning. “Charlotte, honey, what’s the matter? Talk to me.”
She was half in pain and half so excited she could barely get the words out.
“Dad! Dad! I stubbed my toe but someone called Dogstar found Marty! They left a message on the website. Can you come home between classes so we can go get him?”
“Charlotte, I can’t. My next class starts in twenty minutes.”
“Well, then, after class?”
“Charlotte, it’s not going to work. I won’t be home until ten-thirty and that is too late. How about you e-mail the person and tell them that we’ll pick up Marty when I get home from work tomorrow? I’ll even come home early and pick you up at school.”
“Tomorrow? Dad, Marty will be outside. We can’t wait that long.”
“Listen Charlotte, I don’t have time to quibble. Class is about to start. See ya tonight. Bye.”
Before Charlotte could say good-bye, he had hung up. She didn’t even have time to tell him she didn’t have a phone number for Dogstar. Only a street address and e-mail address.
&nbs
p; “Oh, darn,” grumbled Charlotte. Well, at least Marty would be home soon. It just couldn’t be another false alarm. Charlotte went back online and was happy to see that the BSG were online too.
CHAPTER
11
The Treasure Hunt
You’re up early!” Mrs. Madden said as Avery came rushing down the stairs.
“I’m meeting Charlotte for breakfast at Montoya’s. To…to…talk about a new strategy for finding Marty,” she stammered. “I gotta run. I’m late.” She gave her bemused mom a quick hug and was out the door.
Avery slammed the door and took off at full speed. She didn’t slow down until she turned onto Beacon Street. She couldn’t be late this morning, not when Charlotte was waiting to go and get Marty. The early morning streets were busy with cars and people on their way to work, and Montoya’s was bustling with a line for coffee that went out the door.
Avery hadn’t eaten anything yet and her stomach growled when she smelled the fresh muffins and donuts.
Charlotte was already there waiting at a table.
“Did you order already?” Avery asked.
“No. They’re really busy. So, we won’t have time. We need to get to Dogstar’s early so we aren’t late for school,” Charlotte said with firm determination.
Avery couldn’t tell if Charlotte was eager to go after Marty or was still mad at her. Either way, Avery was going to be on her best behavior. She missed Marty and needed Charlotte’s support. Charlotte was still speaking to Avery, but Char’s warm friendliness seemed to have disappeared.
“You did eat before you came, didn’t you?” Charlotte asked pointedly.
Avery’s stomach growled again. “No, I thought we were eating here first. You know, then we’d make a game plan to go and rescue Marty. I mean, Charlotte, we don’t really know these people.”
Charlotte stared at her friend. “You don’t have to come, you know.”
“I’m coming,” Avery said firmly. She was beginning to get annoyed, too. After all, it was Charlotte who hadn’t put Marty’s collar on tight enough.
“It’s almost a mile there, then a mile back to put him safely in my house and then off to school. We don’t have time to eat.”
“Okay.” Avery shoved her hands in her pockets and leaned back in the chair.
“What can I get for you?” Nick asked, swinging a chair backwards and taking a seat.
“Hi, Nick. You’re working before school now?” Avery asked, relieved for the interruption. Besides, she really, really wanted a muffin!
“Not really. I just came to help Mom unload the delivery truck. I finished about fifteen minutes ago, but it was so busy, she asked me to help out,” Nick explained. “What are you guys doing here so early?”
“Last night, we got a message on the website about Marty. Someone has him in their backyard. They live in the four hundred block of Weeble Street.”
“Weeble Street—I have never head of it. You guys aren’t going there by yourselves, are you?” Nick asked.
“Yeah,” Avery admitted. “But it’s only a mile.”
“We really have to get going,” Charlotte said.
“Please, Charlotte. I’m starved. Can’t we get something to eat?” Avery pleaded.
“Hold on, Avery.” Nick jumped up and ran behind the bakery counter. He grabbed some sugar-coated donuts and stuffed them in a bag. He was back to the table in a flash.
Avery flashed him a grateful smile and stuffed a dollar in his hands.
Charlotte smiled at Nick. He always seemed to do the right thing without being a goody-goody.
“So what’s the name of the people on Weeble Street?” Nick asked Charlotte.
“I don’t actually know. Their screen name was Dogstar.”
“They have a screen name of Dogstar, but they said in the message that they’re allergic to dogs? How weird is that?” Avery asked.
Charlotte shrugged. “I guess. I didn’t think of that.”
“You got this address online? And you don’t know who these people are?” Nick asked. “Do your parents know you’re going?”
Avery and Charlotte looked at each other and shook their heads no.
Nobody said anything for a minute.
Nick stood up. “This sounds suspicious. I’m coming along. In case you need someone to, you know, protect. Help.” Nick disappeared around the line of people at the counter and into the back room.
“Protect us?” Avery asked. “From what?”
Charlotte blushed. “I don’t know. But he is really nice.”
“Whatever,” Avery said. She opened her bag and began snarfing down her donut. If they were going dog hunting, she needed energy.
Nick was back in a second and the group took off out the front door and up Beacon Street.
“Didn’t want anyone to see me bring this out,” Nick said, pulling a white bag from inside of his coat and handing it to Avery. “They’re hot from the oven. But it’s better than listening to your stomach growl all morning, Ave.”
Avery peeked in the bag.
“Biscotti! Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Avery exclaimed. “You’re the man, Nick!”
Halfway to Boston University, Mr. Ramsey realized that he left behind the papers he had just finished grading for his freshman writing class. I better go back and get those future gems of literature, he smiled to himself. I promised my students I would hand them back today. The vision of impatient students frothing at the mouth for their grades impelled him to make a quick left turn onto Harvard Street and rush home.
He left his car in front of the yellow Victorian and raced up the stairs. His papers were sitting in the hall. He placed them carefully into his briefcase, and then he suddenly had a thought. It will be such a nice surprise to have Marty waiting at home when Charlotte gets back from school. He checked his watch, then turned on his computer and checked the address posted by Dogstar on www.wheresmarty.com. Might as well give it a try, he thought.
On the way to Weeble Street, Charlotte relayed Marty stories to Nick and confessed that she just couldn’t face losing another pet. Avery wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation. She really didn’t know where they were going and hoped Nick and Charlotte did. This was a part of Brookline that she didn’t come to very often. She was content to follow along behind them scarfing one biscotti after another.
“Hey, Sugar Face,” Charlotte called out. “You might want to brush yourself so you can make a good impression.”
Avery wadded up the bag and stuck it in her backpack. She wiped her face off with a napkin and then brushed the crumbs from her coat. When she looked up she felt a little uneasy at her new surroundings.
The street was lined with old brick apartment buildings, but it was vacant and a tad creepy. Charlotte wondered if anyone actually lived on the street at all.
“I wonder how Marty wound up here?” Avery asked.
“Does that building have a number on it?” an obviously nervous Charlotte asked.
“Yeah,” Avery said. “It’s number three-eighty.”
“They’ve been skipping by twenties so the next building should be four hundred,” Nick said.
They walked by a vacant lot and came up on the building on the other side. The number 420 was prominently displayed over the doorway.
“Four twenty? But that can’t be. That means that the vacant lot is four hundred Weeble Street,” Avery said.
“I think we should get out of here,” Nick said, looking around anxiously.
“Wait! Look! There on top of that old Dumpster,” Avery shouted and sprinted in that direction.
“Ave, wait!” Nick shouted. “This could be dangerous.”
Too late, Avery was running toward the Dumpster. What was the thing on top? It almost looked like it was a dog. A dog? It couldn’t be Marty, she thought. There was no way that Marty would sit still for that long. Avery looked up.
“Avery!” She heard Charlotte call. “What is it?”
On the Dumpster sat an
old tattered stuffed animal that looked a little like Marty. Pinned to the front was a copy of their flier, and written in tiny letters on the front of the flier was a message from Dogstar.
“What does it say?” Charlotte asked again. “Does it say where Marty is?”
Avery squinted to read it. Perhaps Charlotte was right. Maybe there was a clue about where Marty really was. Was this some kind of crazy treasure hunt? Avery wondered.
Grabbing the note, Avery began to read it out loud: “Disappointed? So is your little dog. Your dog ran away because it was too embarrassed to be seen with someone as weird as you.”
“It says that? Really?” Charlotte said, pulling the note from Avery’s hand so she could read it herself. She sucked in her breath. Somebody thought she was weird. Charlotte felt sick to her stomach. She handed the dog and the note over to Nick.
“What kind of creep would write something like that?” Avery asked. Furious, she wanted to wad the note into a tight little ball and throw it right through the side of the Dumpster.
“This dude is so mean!” Nick slapped his hand against the Dumpster.
“Three guesses who did this,” Avery growled.
“You’re kidding. You think A & J…did this?” Nick asked. “No way. They’re not this bad.”
“Avery might be right, Nick,” Charlotte said. “Anna and Joline love making other people miserable, and they did take fliers on Monday.”
“I’m throwing this away,” Avery said, opening the top of the Dumpster. “I don’t care who did it. It’s nasty and I don’t want any part of this.”
“No, wait. I think we should keep it as evidence. Maybe we can figure out from the handwriting who wrote it,” Charlotte said.
“What’s the point?” Avery mumbled. “Like you’re going to call the FBI and then arrest them. Besides, it will just waste our time. We don’t want to forget about Marty.”
“I still think we should keep it,” said Charlotte. Maybe it was the reporter or detective in her, but Charlotte really wanted to know who did this and why.
“You know what? What goes around comes around,” Nick said wisely. “Whoever did this is just a low person. And that will come back to haunt them somehow. We better head off to school. It’s getting late.”