by Annie Bryant
Hot Water
When Maeve arrived late to Montoya’s, she was surprised to find that she was the first BSG there. She’d stayed after at the end of social studies, talking to Ms. O’Reilly about her last test. She had done better than she hoped, but Ms. O’Reilly wanted to show Maeve how she could improve her C grade to a B. By the time she made it to her locker, she didn’t see any of the BSG and figured they’d all left for the bakery.
Mid-afternoon was usually a quiet hour at the bakery. Most kids had after-school activities and all the adults were at work. There were a few mothers with toddlers and a couple of elderly couples. On her way in she bent down to say hello to a curly haired, redheaded toddler. She explained to the mother than redheads had to stick together. Maeve sat down at a round table in the corner to finally catch her breath. She couldn’t believe she had run the whole way for nothing
Eduardo, a cute college student who worked there in the afternoons and evenings, made his way to the table. He had a mop of curly, dark hair and deep, brown eyes as yummy as melted chocolate. “Hot chocolate, please,” she said, when he asked what she wanted. Eduardo was very dreamy.
“Hey, where is everybody?” Isabel asked. She seemed just at breathless as Maeve as she collapsed in a chair.
“I don’t know!” Maeve looked at her watch. “They should be here soon, I hope…”
“To be honest, I’m glad it’s just you right now. I wanted to talk to you about something, Maeve.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
Isabel sighed. “I feel so torn about Marty. I know how important he is to Charlotte and Avery, and I totally love the little guy, but at the same time…I can’t help thinking about the money. It could help so many people in so many ways. So then I wonder if it could be wrong to keep him.”
“I know exactly how you feel,” Maeve agreed as Eduardo brought the hot chocolate to the table. “I would hate to give up my little guinea pigs. It would just kill me. But if someone needed the money really bad I don’t know how I would feel.”
“Miss?” he asked, looking at Isabel. She responded to him in Spanish and he nodded and walked back to the kitchen.
“What did you say?” Maeve asked.
“I told him that there would be three more of us coming in a minute, so he wouldn’t have to make so many trips.”
Charlotte arrived next, looking sad and downtrodden.
“Hey, Charlotte. Is everything…okay?” Maeve asked.
Charlotte blinked. “What? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.”
Maeve wanted to ask if there was anything going on—besides Marty missing, of course—but before she could say anything, in tromped Avery followed by a somber Katani.
Eduardo returned to the table and Isabel ordered everyone a round of hot chocolate. An awkward silence hung over the group.
“Okay,” Maeve said. “Let’s get started.” She tried to keep her voice calm and confident. For a minute, she thought she actually sounded like Ms. Rodriguez. This made her sit a little taller. What would Ms. R do in this situation? She would probably ask everyone to write something down. It wasn’t Maeve’s favorite activity, but since no one seemed to want to talk, maybe writing was the best solution.
Maeve reached into her bag and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper. She folded it up and tore it into five strips. “Okay, I have an idea. How about we all just write down what we want to happen?”
Considering the way the BSG had been getting along lately, Maeve expected someone to object. Surprisingly, though, the girls shrugged, nodded, and searched for their pencils. When everyone finished scribbling, Maeve tore another sheet into strips and handed them out again.
“Now write down what you think would be the best way to accomplish your goal,” Maeve said.
Maeve wouldn’t admit to anyone that she really didn’t know what she was doing here. In fact, she had no plan at all. But she liked the fact that they were all in the same place, at the same table, attempting to solve the problem together. Something good was bound to happen.
“I’m going to collect the sheets now,” Maeve said.
Maeve unfolded the papers, including her own, and read each of the goals:
- Save High Hopes Riding Stable
- Help people who need it
- Get Marty back
- Bring Marty home
- Make everybody happy
Even though no one had signed her name, it was pretty obvious who had written what. And she also could see that the group was hopelessly divided between the money and the dog. Maeve then asked everyone to pass in the next set of slips. The first one almost made her fall out of her chair.
“Kidnap Marty?” She read out loud. “Kidnap?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Avery asked.
Maeve raised her eyebrows.
Katani snorted and looked at the ceiling. “Leave it to Avery to get us all arrested and put in prison. Read the next one, Maeve.”
“Call Mr. Flores and accept his offer,” Maeve read.
“That seems logical,” Katani said but without the intensity of a few days ago.
Avery and Charlotte looked upset at her comment but neither wanted to say anything. When Katani had taken a position on something, they both knew it was hard to get her out of it. So, for once, irrepressible Avery bit her tongue. Charlotte gave Avery a reassuring smile, which was the first time she had really reached out to Avery in days.
“Why don’t you read the next one,” Isabel suggested in a calm voice.
“Rent Marty to Mr. Flores for ten thousand a year during baseball season and then have Marty live with us the rest of the year,” Maeve read aloud, and then looked at everyone with big eyes.
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” Katani said, suddenly upbeat.
“What?” Avery said. “Baseball season starts with spring training in February and continues through the end of October. That only leaves us eight weeks.”
“Well, we’ve only had Marty a short time,” Katani pointed out.
Avery was fuming. “Katani, I am so mad at you. You only care about what you want to happen!” Katani looked stung and began to shift in her seat.
“OKAY, ENOUGH!” Maeve interrupted. “We still have more to read…” She cleared her throat and held up another strip. “Convince Robbie Flores that Marty isn’t his Lucky Charm so he will want to give him back.”
The group looked at Charlotte.
“Belief is a powerful thing,” said Isabel. “My mother’s doctors talk about belief all the time. They say it always makes a difference if you believe.”
“Sorry Charlotte, but that’s never going to work.”
Everyone jumped because no one realized that Nick had been listening to their conversation. Even Maeve, who had positioned herself so she could see everything in the room, had been so involved in the conversation that she didn’t see him walk up to the table.
“What’s not going to work?” Maeve asked.
“There’s no way you can make Robbie Flores change his mind,” Nick said.
“He’ll change his thinking if I go to the press. The negative publicity will crush him,” Avery said.
“Oh, that’s great, Ave,” Nick said. “The Sox are tied with the Yankees in first place with only four games left in the season. If Flores slumps and the team loses the next couple of games, it’s over. Everyone in Boston will be protesting outside your house. Besides, do you really want it on your conscience that you took away the number-one Red Sox hitter’s lucky charm?”
“Hey, we didn’t ask him to steal our dog,” Avery shot back.
“If I remember correctly, didn’t he find Marty wandering around in a busy parking lot without a collar on? If he didn’t take Marty that day, who knows what would have happened. So don’t blame Flores for trying to help a poor lost dog, Avery.”
Nick’s words were forceful. Charlotte kind of liked the daring gleam in his eyes, even if she didn’t like everything he was saying. Nick’s words had the opposite effect on Avery. She
sank back into her chair and curled her head toward her chest.
Nick shook his head as he cleared the empty mugs from the table and disappeared behind the swinging doors.
“Baseball,” Charlotte grumbled. “It’s all people think about around here. Can we at least agree that Marty is more important than the Red Sox winning the series?”
That was definitely something all the BSG could agree on. Maeve tried to think of what Ms. Rodriguez would do now, but before she had a chance, Katani looked at her watch and said she had to get home.
“But we haven’t finished solving this problem,” a disappointed Maeve protested.
“I know, but I have to be home. You know, Kelley…” Katani shrugged.
Where was Ms. Rodriguez when you really needed her? Maeve sighed.
Charlotte, Avery, and Isabel excused themselves as well.
Maeve sat at the table watching as her friends left Montoya’s. She twirled a straw in her cocoa. Well, she thought, all things considered, the meeting could have gone worse.
CHAPTER
20
Writer’s Block
Whatcha working on, Charlotte?” Mr. Ramsey asked.
Charlotte stared at the screen of her laptop. She had no idea how to get started on the article. She shut her eyes and tried to visualize what the shelter would have been like, but nothing came to mind. She was blank. No matter how hard she tried, Charlotte couldn’t imagine the interview with Hilary or the animal shelter, because she hadn’t been there.
“Hey, Earth to Charlotte! Dad, here!”
At that moment, Charlotte could no longer hold it in. The tears that had been brimming in her eyes all day started trickling down her cheeks.
“I know. I know, honey,” Mr. Ramsey said. “First Orangina and now Marty. Our track record isn’t very good. It seems that when it comes to pets we aren’t very lucky.”
“It’s not just that,” Charlotte sniffled.
Her father lowered his eyebrows and looked perplexed. “It’s not?”
“Marty is only part of it. I’ve had a really bad week. My friends and I can’t agree on anything, and I don’t know what we are going to do,” she admitted.
“And that’s only part of why you feel sad?” Mr. Ramsey asked. “What else?”
“Well, yesterday, Jennifer Robinson, the editor of the Sentinel, gave me this assignment for a front-page story.”
“That’s great, Charlotte!”
“No. NO! It’s awful.”
“Awful?” Mr. Ramsey looked more confused than before.
“Look at this!” Charlotte commanded, showing her father the three pages of notes. “How am I supposed to write a good piece from these notes? Jennifer said I can’t call Hilary again and do a phone interview—she’s in Louisiana right now. I haven’t visited the shelter at all. Ms. Rodriguez keeps telling us to use detail, telling detail, and I can’t do it! I feel like I’m trying to write from inside a paper bag.”
“Nice analogy.”
“Dad,” Charlotte pleaded, “when I told Jennifer this afternoon that I didn’t think I had enough information to write the piece, she told me not to worry about it. She already did the interview. She said I should just write the article with her notes and she’ll add the details later.”
“Hmm…that doesn’t sound very helpful to me.”
“I mean, it’s sort of like saying to an artist, go ahead and sketch that picture of the sunset in Arizona. Don’t worry about the colors—we’ll add them later.”
Mr. Ramsey nodded. “I can see why you’re frustrated. But as a writer you’re going to have to learn how to deal with these situations. Being able to get firsthand observation and detail is the best, but when you can’t, you have to learn to rely on other sources.”
“This is almost like trying to design a house from a cartoon drawing.”
“Another good analogy,” Mr. Ramsey said with a smile. “But, it can be done. Remember when I was writing the book on the Great Barrier Reef? I really wanted to see a great white shark. After fifteen diving trips, I’d seen all kinds of sharks, but not a great white. I had to rely on my experience with the sharks I did see and then supplement that with things other people told me.”
Charlotte tried to recompose herself. “How can I do that here? I don’t know anyone who works in a shelter.”
“That’s true, but you have lost a pet recently,” Mr. Ramsey pointed out.
“What does that have to do with this?” Charlotte asked.
“You’ve been visiting lots of shelters lately. Not the shelter that Hilary volunteers at, but animal shelters all the same.”
Charlotte thought back to the night when they went to the Sawgrass Animal Shelter when they thought they’d found Marty.
“Mix those firsthand thoughts and impressions with what you have here and I think you’ll be able to get through this,” Mr. Ramsey said.
Charlotte wiped away the last of her tears and took a deep breath. Sometimes her dad was so smart. She wished she hadn’t waited so long to ask him for help. If she had asked earlier, she wouldn’t be so tired and frustrated.
“Writing is kind of like making a quilt,” Mr. Ramsey continued. “It’s a scrap craft. You take scraps of information, scraps of experiences—both your own and experiences of others. Then you cut and stitch until you put them together in a way that makes sense.”
Charlotte threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Thank you so much. This was really helpful.”
“Honey, I wish I could solve the Marty problem just as easily. Did you girls get any closer to a solution today?”
“No,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. “We still have no idea what to do. Someone suggested renting Marty to Robbie Flores just for the baseball season. That almost seems like the best idea.”
“Renting him?”
“Yeah. Marty could stay with Robbie Flores during baseball season and live with us the rest of the time. This year we could give the money to Katani’s stable and next year maybe we could donate the money to the Multiple Sclerosis Society for Isabel’s mom.”
“You plan on charging ten thousand dollars a season?”
“I know, I know. It does sound ridiculous. Do you think we’d be cheating him? I mean, you don’t really believe that Marty is a good-luck charm, do you?”
Mr. Ramsey shrugged. “Well, that all depends on what Robbie Flores believes. Remember, belief is a powerful thing.”
“That’s exactly what Isabel said. It would be different if he gave us a donation for Katani’s stable. But to take the money as payment for a lucky charm to win baseball games seems…kind of crummy.”
Mr. Ramsey looked at his watch. “Speaking of baseball, the game is starting now. Maybe we can do a little more research and see just how lucky this charm is,” Mr. Ramsey suggested, clicking on the TV. Charlotte stretched out on the floor and tried to concentrate on writing her article as her father watched the game. It was easy to write during ball games because baseball didn’t demand her full attention. All Charlotte had to listen for was the roar of the crowd and then watch the replay.
After two and a half hours, the Sox were down three to nothing. When the commercials came on, Mr. Ramsey leaned over and inspected Charlotte’s notebook.
“How’s it going, kiddo?” he asked.
Charlotte showed him the title. “Barlow Animal Shelter: A Home for Foul Weather Friends.”
Mr. Ramsey read through Charlotte’s rough draft during the bottom of the eighth. Neither of them was too worried about watching the game. It seemed the Sox were definitely going to lose this one.
Mr. Ramsey tapped the paper when he was done. “Good! Very good! And excellent detail. No one would know that you hadn’t actually been there. Considering the circumstances, I’d say you did an outstanding job. See what happens when you use your imagination and your experience?”
Just then the crowd roared. Charlotte and her father turned their attention to the television.
“Look! Robbie Flores hi
t a grand slam homerun!” Mr. Ramsey exclaimed.
“Oh my goodness! The Red Sox won!” Charlotte shouted.
Mr. Ramsey slapped her five. “Maybe Marty is good luck! That was an incredibly lucky comeback,” he noted.
They heard a knock come from the bottom of the stairs. “Mr. Ramsey? Charlotte?” It was Miss Pierce, their landlady.
“I’m really sorry, Miss Pierce. Are we too loud?” Mr. Ramsey asked.
“Heavens, no! I just finished watching the game myself. With a comeback like that, who wouldn’t be loud?”
Charlotte and her father breathed a sigh of relief as Miss Pierce continued, “I just thought you might be interested in what I found scratching at my back door.” With that, she let go of the leash she was holding. Ten pounds of wiggling, jiggling mutt came bounding up the stairs.
“MARTY!” Charlotte screamed.
M.V.P. (Most Valuable Pooch)
Marty was wearing a new red collar with a gold tag engraved with LUCKY CHARM in fancy letters.
“Oh, my!” Miss Pierce said when she saw that his mud-spattered body had gotten Charlotte’s sweatshirt all muddy.
Marty jumped up and licked Charlotte’s face, getting mud on her cheeks as well.
“How did he get here? He must have slipped away! You found your way home, didn’t you, little guy? You smart little puppy!” Charlotte cried, hugging and kissing the little doggie all over. “Thanks so much, Miss Pierce.”
“Now what are you going to do?” Mr. Ramsey asked.
“I have an idea,” Charlotte replied. She picked up the phone and immediately called Avery to tell her the news.
“Now I can love baseball again! WHOOOO-HOOO!” Avery yelled so loud, Charlotte had to hold the phone away from her ear. “When did you say that Marty showed up?” Avery asked.
“Just a few minutes ago, before Robbie Flores’s home run.”
“Think about it, Charlotte. If Marty came home just now, he must have left Fenway a while ago, right? So…Marty had nothing to do with the win!”