Dog Days

by Karen English

  “Hey, whatcha know good?” Mr. D. says suddenly, turning to Gavin. “What’s your uncle up to?” The older boys walk out the door. Mr. Delvecchio rings up Richard’s bag of chips and drops the change in his hand.

  “He’s at some kind of conference for barbershop people,” Gavin answers quietly.

  “Tell him I’m waiting to challenge him at dominoes. It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gavin says. He nudges Richard in the side and nods quickly toward the door. Richard frowns, puzzled.

  As soon as they get outside, Gavin points at Harper with his hands still in his pockets, sauntering down Fulton with the older boys a half block ahead. “That guy’s a thief!” he whispers.

  “What?” Richard follows his pointing finger. “Who’s a thief? Not my brother. He’s never stolen anything in his life.”

  “No, not your brother—and not Gregory Johnson, either.” Gavin squints. “I’m talking about Harper. I saw him in that mirror thing that’s supposed to make it so a store person can see who’s stealing stuff. I saw him put a toy—you know, one of those balls covered with those spiky things—in his jacket.”

  “In his jacket?”

  “Didn’t you see how he was walking with his arms all pressed against his body?”

  “Yeah,” Richard says slowly, like he’s not really sure. He stares at Harper now. “He still has his hands in his pockets.”

  “I betcha he steals all the time,” Gavin says.

  “He probably has a whole room full of stolen stuff. They go to the store every day after school,” Richard says, nodding slowly like he’s a detective.

  “I should tell Mr. D. to watch him more closely. I can tell him I heard Harper steals, and that he should be really careful when Harper comes in his store,” Gavin says.

  “But then what if Mr. D. tells Harper that you’re the one who told on him?” Richard asks. “Harper’s a big guy.”

  “I know he’s a big guy,” Gavin says, annoyed. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

  So what should he do? Gavin thinks about this all the way home. He gives a wave to Richard when he turns toward his house on Fulton and Gavin turns toward his house on Willow. Quietly, he makes his way to his backyard, almost tiptoeing as he passes under the kitchen window. He unzips his backpack and takes out the new chew toy. Just then he hears the kitchen door open.

  “And where have you been, mister?” Aunt Myrtle is standing on the top step with her hands on her hips.

  Before he turns around to answer, he slips the new chew toy into his jacket.

  “Oh, uh, I had something to do after school.” It’s a lame excuse, but before Aunt Myrtle can think about it too carefully, he adds, “But I came as fast as I could after that.”

  Aunt Myrtle looks at him hard. She sighs. “Well, you’re here now. Stay right there while I get Carlotta.” Before she opens the door, she calls over her shoulder, “And where on earth is Carlotta’s Chew-Chew?”

  Gavin thinks fast. “Uh, I think it’s in the bushes.” He’s proud that he’s managed not to tell a big lie. After all, he was going to rub it in the dirt by the bushes and leave it there.

  “What’s it doing in the bushes?” Aunt Myrtle says almost to herself as she heads back into the house.

  Gavin stoops down to roll the chew toy around in the dirt. When he’s finished, he holds it up. It kind of looks like the old Chew-Chew.

  Aunt Myrtle is back on the porch with Carlotta in her arms. “I certainly wish you’d told me that thing was in the bushes. She’s been whimpering for it all day.”

  Gavin looks at Carlotta. Immediately she starts yap-yapping as if she’s got some fussing to do at Gavin too. He sighs. How many more days of this does he have to endure? Two. Just two—after today. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive.

  “Let me have the thing,” Aunt Myrtle says.

  Gavin hands it over and watches Aunt Myrtle closely to see if she notices anything. She takes it in her hand and, before giving it to Carlotta, looks at it carefully. She turns it this way and that. Gavin can’t tell what she’s thinking. She nuzzles Carlotta’s nose with it. Carlotta turns her head, drawing back a little. “Well, that’s a first,” Aunt Myrtle says, putting Carlotta down and handing the leash and a plastic bag to Gavin. “I suppose a dog can outgrow a toy too.” She shakes her head as she goes back into the house.

  Gavin realizes he’s been holding his breath and lets it out with a whoosh.

  Halfway down the block, dear Carlotta rewards Gavin with a wonderful prize for all his efforts, in the grass right next to his neighbor Mrs. Marvin’s rosebush. Well, at least he’s got that handy plastic bag, and at least tomorrow is trash day. He only has to lift up Mrs. Marvin’s trash can lid and slip the “prize” in there. He doesn’t have to walk all over the place with that . . . thing in his hand.

  Ugh! Even though he used the plastic bag, somehow his hand still feels dirty. He can’t wait to get home and wash his hands ten times.

  Seven

  Harper’s Not Happy

  All the way to school the next day, Gavin repeats to himself, “Just today and tomorrow. Just today and tomorrow, and then I’m free.” He can do it. He will survive. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. He still has a smile on his face when he makes his way across the yard to where Room Ten lines up. It will be so good to get back to his regular after-school routine.

  He slips in line in front of that really snooty girl, Antonia. She turns around and gives him a look that makes him wonder if he forgot to wash his face or something. Richard, who is a bit late getting there, moves in behind Antonia. The two fifth grade classes are already lined up in perfect formation. Except for Harper. He keeps turning around to look at . . . Gavin. Uh-oh. What could that be about? Gavin turns around, thinking perhaps Harper’s mean look is aimed at someone behind him. But, no, there are mostly girls behind him. Harper’s scary eyes are focused only on Gavin. That snarly look is aimed at him. He swallows hard. What’s he done? Why’s Harper giving him that look? Unless—

  Gavin whips around and looks at Richard. “Richard,” he hisses.

  “Whoa,” that Antonia girl says. “Say it, don’t spray it!” She wipes her face in disgust.

  Gavin looks around to see who might have heard her. He feels his face grow warm.

  “You’re gonna get us in trouble,” Antonia continues. “We’re not supposed to be talking.”

  Ms. Shelby-Ortiz is crossing the yard toward the line. Suddenly everyone is standing ramrod straight, staring at the back of the head of the person in front of them, lips pressed together. Ms. Shelby-Ortiz looks up and down the line and gives a little nod. This week’s line leader, Carlos, takes the class to Room Ten.

  “What did you want?” Richard asks as they put their lunches and backpacks in their cubbies.

  “How come Harper was giving me mean looks?”

  “I don’t know,” says Richard, but his eyes look shifty.

  “Did you tell Harper what I said about him?”

  “What was that?” Richard asks.

  “That I saw him steal that toy at Mr. Delvecchio’s store.”

  Richard doesn’t answer right away. Then he says, “I don’t know. Maybe I told my brother.”

  “Why would you do that? You knew he’d tell Harper. Now I think Harper’s mad at me.”

  “Well—” Richards starts, but he’s cut off by Ms. Shelby-Ortiz.

  “I’m waiting for everyone to be in their seats and ready to work.” She looks directly at Gavin and Richard. They put their conversation on hold and move to their desks.

  As soon as they’re on the yard for morning recess, Gavin corners Richard before he can run off to the basketball court. He looks around for Harper but doesn’t see him. “You have to tell me now,” Gavin says. “What do you think Harper knows?”

  “I don’t know,” Richard says, looking past Gavin.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I told Darnell, and I guess he could have told Harper.�
��

  “Thanks. A lot.”

  “But maybe he didn’t tell him.”

  “Yeah, right.” Gavin sighs. Now what is he going to do? He looks around again for Harper. “Wonder where he’s at?”

  Richard offers, “He’s benched today and tomorrow. For not doing his homework.”

  Gavin looks over toward the “benched kids” area that’s reserved for students who have misbehaved: talking back to the teacher, fighting instead of using their words, not doing their homework. Sure enough, there’s Harper, looking glum, with his chin resting on his palm, frowning. He probably feels that he shouldn’t have to do any homework, Gavin thinks from his safe distance near the basketball court.

  “Good,” Gavin says. “Maybe he’ll forget all about what your brother told him by the time Monday comes.”

  “What’s that?” Richard says.

  “That I said I saw him stealing.” Richard could act so stupid at times.

  “That’s not exactly what I said, actually,” Richard corrects him. “I kind of told Darnell that you said Harper was a thief.”

  Now Gavin has to look over his shoulder all the way home.

  “What’s the problem?” Richard asks as he walks beside him. “Why do you keep looking back?”

  “I’m lookin’ to see where Harper is.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause he’s probably after me.”

  “You’re scared?”

  “What do you think? And you’d be too if someone told Harper you called him a thief.”

  Richard raises his eyebrows as if he’s thinking about the situation for the first time. “Okay, okay. We just need to go another way. Like maybe down that street where the Food Barn is, then cut across to Ashby, then down to Maynard. We can take that to your street, but we’ll be coming up to it from the other end. Simple.”

  Not so simple, Gavin thinks as he allows Richard to lead the way. All the way down Post, Gavin feels okay, but as soon as they reach Ashby, a busier street, he starts looking over his shoulder again, expecting to see that Harper has just magically appeared behind him. Luckily, every time he looks back, he sees that the sidewalk is empty.

  Once they reach the corner, Gavin puts a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Wait.” He looks both ways to see if the coast is clear. Amazingly, there’s no sign of Harper—nor Darnell and Gregory Johnson. They cross the street at the light at Maynard, and Gavin is a little relieved. Halfway down the block, Richard turns off on Fulton. “See ya,” he calls over his shoulder. Gavin feels a tiny bit abandoned as he continues on to his street.

  “Finally,” Aunt Myrtle huffs, opening the door just as he’s coming up the walkway. Of course, Carlotta is in her arms, wiggling and making that high-pitched whine that evil little dogs make all the time. She’s actually scrambling to get out of Aunt Myrtle’s arms. Almost, he realizes, as if she’s . . . looking forward to him and their walk. For a moment Gavin almost feels . . . special. Naw, he thinks. All dogs like to get out of the house. All dogs like to go.

  Aunt Myrtle hands him the plastic bag and the leash, which is already attached to Carlotta’s collar. She sets Carlotta down. The dog practically pulls Gavin down the steps. He’s barely able to toss his backpack onto the porch as she drags him away. Aunt Myrtle throws Carlotta a kiss. “Goodbye, precious. Have a good time.”

  Gavin decides to go by the park. Other folks walk their dogs there, so why not him? Aunt Myrtle didn’t give him a chance to grab his board, which Richard had finally returned after dinner the previous night, but he can still go and watch the skaters. No one ever said he had to walk blocks and blocks all around the neighborhood with Carlotta. Why not just walk around the skate park? Gavin turns in that direction. He wonders if he was worried about Harper for nothing. Harper is probably at Homework Club. That’s where all the benched kids have to go after school. So the coast was probably clear all along. He laughs to himself, imagining big, hulky Harper chewing on his pencil trying to figure out two times five.

  He walks once around the skate park and then branches out a little farther. He doesn’t see Richard, Darnell, or Gregory Johnson. Carlotta seems happy. She bounces along beside him like she’s been freed from prison. On the third time around the skate park, she stops to take care of her business. Gavin’s ready with the plastic bag. He’s gotten kind of used to it. The trick is to take care of the task quickly, before he can think about it too much. He’s just deposited the plastic bag in the big trash can near the basketball courts and is wondering where Richard is when someone taps him on the shoulder.

  “I see you still got that ugly little dog.”

  It’s not Richard’s voice. It’s Harper’s. When Gavin turns around, he’s staring up into his angry face. He doesn’t know what to say. His mouth doesn’t seem to want to open. He looks down at Carlotta, at the stupid pink bows in the tufts of hair by each ear—at the little rhinestone collar. He keeps his mouth shut.

  “Anyway, I heard you called me a thief.” Harper gives Gavin’s shoulder a poke. A hard poke. He glares down at him.

  Gavin bites his lip but still says nothing. Maybe Harper will be satisfied with just giving him a sharp poke on the shoulder and will go away.

  “What do you have to say about that?”

  Gavin doesn’t have anything to say.

  “I don’t hear you,” Harper says, with another poke to Gavin’s shoulder. Now Gavin is pretty sure Harper is not going to be satisfied with two hard pokes.

  “I—saw you steal that toy,” Gavin says.

  “What? You saw what?”

  It feels like a challenge. Gavin gathers his courage and repeats, “I saw you steal that toy and put it in your jacket.”

  “You’re a liar,” Harper says, raising his voice.

  Gavin’s mouth drops open in fear and surprise. How can Harper call him a liar when he knows good and well what he did? But then, behind Harper, he sees that tall guy from the day before, the one with the big shaggy dog, coming toward them. Suddenly the tall guy is putting his hand on Harper’s head like a hat.

  Harper frowns, and then looks puzzled.

  “What’s the problem here?” the guy asks.

  Harper wrenches around angrily and opens his mouth to protest. But he has to look up to meet the guy’s eyes, and just that fact makes him get quiet real fast.

  “I’m not liking what I’m seeing,” the guy continues. “I might be seeing a big bully here, and I’m not liking it.”

  Harper glares at Gavin, but keeps his mouth shut.

  “Look here,” the big guy says to Gavin while staring down at Harper. “I’m here every day. You let me know if you have any more trouble out of this kid—and tell me where he lives. I’ll go have a little talk with his parents.”

  Harper’s eyes get big at that.

  “Why don’t you just go play in the sandbox or something and leave this little guy alone?”

  Harper gives Gavin one more warning look, but he doesn’t dare say anything. Slowly he saunters off as if he’s not one bit scared, but Gavin bets he is.

  Gavin doesn’t get it. The tall guy hadn’t been very honest or fair to Gavin just two days before. Why was he being so nice now? What was going on? Whatever the reason, Gavin is glad to be spared from Harper’s anger, even though he doesn’t know what Harper will do the next day. He hopes he’ll keep that big guy in mind.

  “Thanks,” Gavin says as he starts to move away with Carlotta.

  “Wait a sec,” the guy says. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out Carlotta’s Chew-Chew. “This is yours. I don’t know why I kept it. Sorry.” Now he gives Gavin a big smile of apology. Gavin takes the toy out of his hand, but he’s still confused—and a little bit annoyed that he spent part of his savings on that new chew toy. Oh, well. He supposes Carlotta can’t have too many Chew-Chews.

  “Thank you.” It’s all he can think to say.

  Eight

  Where Did Carlotta Go?

  Last day! Last day! The words pop into Gavin’s head as s
oon as his eyes open. He listens to the morning sounds downstairs. Carlotta’s doing her usual yapping from behind the child’s gate that’s keeping her on the back porch. Aunt Myrtle is shuffling down the stairs to the kitchen. Gavin thinks that’s a wonderful sound, because it reminds him that Uncle Vestor returns tomorrow and it’s going to be bye-bye, Carlotta. Bye-bye, Aunt Myrtle. And bye-bye, picking-up-dog-poop.

  Gavin bounds down the stairs, sniffing the air for the scent of French toast. His mother always fixes French toast on Fridays, as a sort of celebration of the coming weekend. Sure enough, his mom is just putting a stack of French toast on the table. His father is behind his newspaper, and Aunt Myrtle is sitting across from him, sipping her tea. Danielle is sitting in her usual seat, sneaking looks at her phone on her lap. Should he tell on her? Nah, he feels too good about it being Friday and his last day of having to deal with Carlotta.

  “Good morning,” Gavin says as he takes his seat, trying not to sound too happy.

  “Good morning, sweetie,” his mom replies, dishing two pieces of French toast onto his plate.

  “Morning,” his father says from behind his paper.

  Danielle rolls her eyes. He’s not surprised.

  Aunt Myrtle blows on her tea. “Good morning, Gavin. I think this must be payday. As soon as you walk Carlotta this afternoon, that is.”

  Gavin looks over at the dog. Last day, horrible little doggie, he thinks. He takes a big bite of French toast.

  On the way to school, Richard notices his good mood. “You’ve been whistling since we turned the corner. How come?”

  “This is my last day walking Carlotta. And it’s Friday. There’s no homework on Fridays. I get to stay up an extra hour on Fridays. We have spelling tests on Fridays, and I always get a hundred percent. Um . . .”