Madison attempted to hand her a menu, but she pushed it away and leaned forward to talk. Then the waiter came over, but she ignored him and kept talking.
By now, I had finished my glass of water, and the ice cubes were bonking me on the nose, so I had to look away for a few minutes.
“That’s their mom,” Hunter said. “Parker said she was coming to visit for Mother’s Day. He seemed kind of nervous about the whole thing.”
“I feel so sorry for Madison,” Lola said. “She must really miss her mom.”
I figured I could see better if I took a stroll.
“I’m going to the bathroom, be back in a sec.”
I pushed back my chair, got up, and darted between support posts in the restaurant, each time peeking at the Doonsberry table. The waiter was succeeding in taking orders now, but Madison’s dad looked upset.
Right as I reached the hallway that led to the bathroom, Parker’s eyes met mine. I gave him a small wave and then disappeared into the ladies’ room.
I didn’t really have a reason to be in there, but Parker had seen me go in, so I needed to stay in there for a few minutes so that things looked legit. I popped into a stall, mostly so I could have some privacy to think about the scene I just witnessed in the restaurant.
Was that really Madison’s mom?
I didn’t have to wonder long, because pink and white heels came clacking into the bathroom.
“Liar!” Madison yelled. “You’re always lying to me!”
“No, Madi, I didn’t lie. Plans just changed, that’s all. I would take you if I could, you know that.”
I hopped up and stood on the toilet seat.
“You promised to take me! Tell your boss you promised!”
“Honey, that wouldn’t do any good. This trip is just not going to be good for children.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient!”
The shoes clicked back and forth on the tile. Someone started the hand dryer.
“I’ll take you to Paris next time, I promise.”
Oh no, not the Paris trip. Madison was looking forward to that.
“DON’T promise me ANYTHING!” Madison was screaming now. “GO AWAY!”
Then, sobbing.
The heels clicked some more, toward the sink.
“Leave me alone,” Madison said.
And then one set of heels—I was pretty sure it was the white ones—clicked out the door.
I stood there, on the toilet seat, wishing Madison would go out so I could escape, but also hoping that her mom would come back in to fix things with her daughter.
Neither of those things happened. Instead, Madison spoke.
“I know you’re in there, Allie. I saw your family in the reserved room and I spotted your tacky camo loafers before you hopped up on the seat.”
I jumped down, and pulled open the squeaky door. “Hey, Madison.”
Madison entered the next stall, and pulled some toilet paper off the roll to wipe her eyes.
“What are the Carroways doing in a restaurant on Mother’s Day, anyway? I thought you always had perfect homecooked family dinners, complete with prayers and stupid jokes and stuff.”
Her shoulders heaved up and down.
“I’m really sorry about your Paris trip, Madison.”
Madison wiped her nose. “I bet you had your phone, recording that whole scene, right? Whatever. You can put it on the Internet and then everyone will know that my family’s a broken mess.”
“No, I didn’t. I would never do that.”
Madison shrugged. “Go ahead. I couldn’t care less.” She headed to the door, but then turned back. “You can also post that I’ll be returning all the fundraising money, because my dad can’t put the winner on his show. He said something about some stupid clause in his contract.”
“Oh, Madison . . .”
She walked out the door. I stood there, not knowing if I should go comfort her or push her face in a plate of gravy.
Then the door opened again.
“And one more thing,” Madison said. “My dog’s dead. Make sure you tell everyone that too.”
CHAPTER 26
Turning Point
Allie, is everything okay? You haven’t been yourself since The Cracker Barrel.”
Lola walked next to me, up the hill from the Lickety Split and then a few houses over to see Mr. Dimple’s finished creation.
“Yeah, you didn’t even eat your dessert,” Hunter said. “Thanks for giving it to me, though.” The boy still had a little marshmallow on his chin.
As we approached Mr. Dimple’s yard, Ruby gasped and put her hand to her throat. “Is that it? It’s huge!”
“I’m not goin’ in there,” Kendall said.
I tilted my head back to take in the whole view of the Dimple-Dunk 5000. It was black-and-green camo, and the target had an alligator face painted on it.
“It’s perfect,” I said. “We’ve never had anything this unique at the school carnival before. I’m sure we’ll raise lots of money with this. Awesome job, Hunter.”
Hunter smiled big. “I told you it was going to be amazing.”
“But who are we gonna dunk?” Ruby asked. “I can’t imagine dunking any of my friends in there. It would be too humiliating.”
“Well. . . . how about enemies?” Kendall said. “I bet Lola’d pay some big bucks to dunk whoever stole her phone and posted that video on the Internet.”
“Kendall! I would not.”
Then she walked over, climbed up on a little step stool, and pushed on the alligator target. A lever gave way, and the seat that would be holding the “victim” dropped into the 5,000-gallon water container.
She grinned. “Okay, maybe for charity.”
And that’s when I got the idea.
It was actually Hunter’s idea from the meeting, with a little tweaking.
That night, I texted Miss Lewis.
Let’s use our unpopularity to make some
money. Dunk Tank and Pie-in-the-Face
booths. Kids vote for the “victims.” Are you
game?
It only took ten seconds for her to respond:
GAME ON.
CHAPTER 27
Reality Take Two
Lunker Law may have been the hottest new reality show on TV that season, but Carried Away with the Carroways had been on the longest—which meant we had built a good relationship with our directors and producers. And sometimes we could invite special guests on the show—if we asked real nice.
“Zeke? Can I talk to you at the break?” It was the night after Mother’s Day, and Hunter, Kendall, and I were filming an outdoor golf scene with our dads using glow-in-the-dark balls.
Zeke winked. “Sure. We’ll break after everyone putts out.”
Twenty minutes, and ten lost balls later, I finally got to approach Zeke with my request.
“What’s up, Allie-Oop? You tired of golf already?”
“Nah, I could golf all night.”
Zeke smiled. “You’re the best.”
This was as good a time as ever. “Zeke, you know how I’m in charge of the year-end project at the middle school . . .”
“Yeah. Is that coming up? I was going to see if we could work that in to the show somehow.”
“Well, it’s actually next Saturday, and I’m in a little bit of a tight spot. I was wondering if you could help me out.”
“What do you need, squirt?”
I took a deep breath, and told him the whole story. Including that Madison had obligated her dad to invite the winner of a drawing on his show.
Zeke crunched up his face. “Ooh. That’s not good. It’s his first season, so I’m sure they are playing things extra safe with the scripts.”
“Well, that’s why I was wondering—since we’ve been on a few seasons—can we do anything? Can we invite Mr. Doonsberry on our show and then have the winner appear with him?”
“You mean like Lunker Law meets the Carroways?”
“Yeah. That woul
d allow the school to keep the fundraising money, and the winner would be able to be on TV with the Lunker Law guy. I think they might accept that—if we could do it.”
“Hmmmm.” Zeke rubbed his chin. “We don’t have a lot of time to plan, and I’m not sure the producers will go for it.”
I placed my putter up on my shoulders, and hung my hands over the shaft. “Zeke, I’ll do anything. I’ll fish, I’ll clean fish guts. I’ll wear a tiara and full camo while cleaning fish guts. Please . . .”
Zeke took the putter from me and pretended to line up and hit a ball toward the hole. Then he looked up at me.
“You drive a hard bargain, Allie Carroway. I’ll see what I can do.”
Two days came and went, and I still didn’t have an answer from Zeke. The final steering committee meeting would be tomorrow and I wanted to pitch my idea for the two shows merging and about having a “Dunk-and-Pie” voting campaign.
So, while I waited, I spent another afternoon, pacing back and forth in the Lickety Split, reading out loud all the Bible verses that Lola had finally hung up.
“Be still and know that I am God.”
I read that, and kept pacing.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?”
No one, so why did I feel afraid right now?
“Be strong and courageous . . .”
I tried that, and it got me elected to head up this crazy project.
Then I remembered Mom’s words.
“Your enemies want you to think you’re a loser, but don’t believe them! You’re God’s precious daughter—case closed!”
I grabbed my head with both hands and pushed, as if that would suppress the negative thoughts rolling around in my head. Then I lay down on the beanbag and looked up.
“Give all your cares and worries to God . . .”
Keep looking up, Allie.
“Okay, but you gotta help me, God!” I yelled that maybe a little too loud, but I wanted to make sure he’d hear.
A boy’s voice rang out from the balcony of the Lickety Split.
“There you are! We’ve been looking for you.”
Hunter poked his head in the door. “We need you over at the house for a family meeting in ten minutes!”
I sat up and tried to smooth my hair. A family meeting? With the whole family?
When I arrived at the house, it did look like the whole family was there. They were gathered out on the patio, and Aunt Kassie and my mom served iced tea and scones to a smiling crowd. This had to be a good meeting if there were scones.
“Well, lookie here, the guest of honor has arrived.” Papaw came over and led me by the arm to a patio chair with puffy orange cushions. “We have some things to tell you, Allie-girl.”
Aunt Kassie placed a cup of tea in my hand.
“Thanks,” I said, and I took a huge gulp.
Zeke and the film crew came in from the side of the house. He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “I hope you meant what you said about the camo and the fish guts—’cause you’re gonna owe me big.”
Then he addressed the crowd.
“Clear your schedules, folks, because next Saturday, Carried Away with the Carroways is going on location—to the Ouachita Middle School Bark Fest Carnival and Dog Show. We’ll be filming for an episode entitled Lunker Law meets Carried Away with the Carroways, to be aired later this year. But we’ll also be goin’ live on our FriendClips page during the whole event, accepting online donations. One hundred percent of the proceeds will go to the West Monroe Animal Shelter.”
Everyone clapped.
“We should be able to make enough money to tear that old place down and build a brand-new one,” Lola said.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
Mamaw stepped forward and handed me a list of family members with jobs written next to their names. “We’ll do whatever you need, Allie-girl, but here are some suggestions, in case you hadn’t thought of them.” She winked. “I told you, you can always count on your family.”
I scanned the list, and laughed out loud when I saw the job title scrawled next to my little cousin Chase’s name:
Doggy-Poop Scooper.
No, I hadn’t thought of that.
CHAPTER 28
And the Winner is . . .
I could barely sleep the night of May 26th. And even when I did doze off, I dreamed about dogs. The Bark Fest was the next day, and as Miss Lewis had said, “The outcome will speak for itself.”
Or, perhaps it would bark for itself.
And it must be true what they say about dogs sensing when something is up, because that morning, all the dogs in Aunt Kassie and Uncle Wayne’s house—Hazel Mae, Eleanor Rigby, and T-Rex—were a bundle of energy—licking and jumping and tearing around the house chasing each other.
Kendall chased Ellie around the living room trying to put her pink camo bandanna on.
“Come here, crazy girl! You can’t have a naked neck for the dog show!” Kendall finally gave up and plopped down on the couch. “I’ll have to put it on her in the car.”
“If you can get her in the car,” I said, and I shifted my legs into super-speed mode so I could catch up to Hazel Mae.
“Haha, gotcha!” I slipped the pink camo bandanna around her neck, and then I waved my index finger at her. “Okay, here are the rules. You stay away from that red-headed Doonsberry girl, got it? And if you see anyone named “Frenelope,” feel free to chew on her ankle like it’s a bone.”
“Allie!”
I looked up the stairs and saw Mom, staring down.
“Sorry, Mom. I guess I’m still working out that forgiveness thing.”
“T-Rex is ready!” Hunter appeared at the top of the steps, holding the little corgi, whose brown-and-white coloring sort of makes him look like a hamster. “Wait till you see what he and Chief have cooked up for the dog trick competition.”
I laughed. “T-Rex and Chief? That’s gonna be like an elephant and mouse show.”
“Precisely,” Hunter said. “We’ll be using their size differential to wow the crowd.”
I looked down at my sports watch, and a squirt of adrenaline lifted me off the stairs.
“People! It’s time! We gotta be out of here in five minutes!”
All members of both the families living under Aunt Kassie and Uncle Wayne’s roof came thundering out of the house and piled into several vehicles. Thankfully, all our dogs were small, so we could hold them on our laps. I wondered how Parker was going to transport Chief, and then my thoughts went straight to Madison and what she had said to me in the bathroom at The Cracker Barrel.
And one more thing. My dog is dead.
I pulled Hazel Mae in close and snuggled her against my cheek. “If I ever lost you, it would surely tear a huge dog-shaped hole in my heart.”
Then I remembered what Mamaw had said about Madison.
“She’s got a God-shaped hole in her heart.”
Wow. Madison has a God-shaped hole, and a dog-shaped hole.
Maybe you can do something about that, Allie.
That quiet voice speaking to me in my spirit as we pulled into the parking lot of the school shook me up a little. What did God want me to do? This girl had been working to destroy me ever since she moved into my old house. I had already tried to patch things up—to make a little peace, but she obviously wasn’t interested.
Miss Lewis met me outside our SUV.
She had a pink camo hat on, and her hair was in two braids. She also wore an army-green tank top, and dark-grey cargo shorts. She looked much younger, but more like a sergeant than ever before. She was also holding a manila envelope.
“It took you long enough to get here, Carroway.”
She sounded more like a sergeant now too.
“Are you ready to see the results of the vote?”
She held the envelope out for me to take it. I placed Hazel Mae on the back seat of the SUV and opened it.
The “vote” had been Hunter’s idea for picking
who should go in the Dimple-Dunk 5000. But it wasn’t until the other day that I realized Miss Lewis and I could take advantage of our “unpopularity,”—and the unfortunate Lewis-Beetle incident—to bring in some “big” money. And this money was not going to be for the animal shelter.
Last Monday, I had talked Mr. Langley into letting me get on the intercom to address the whole school.
“Attention, Ouachita Eagles, this is Allie Carroway.”
I imagined groaning going on in the classrooms at that moment, because—though Miss Lewis had ripped up the petition, I still had most of the student body annoyed with me.
“The funds are piling up for support of the Bark Fest Carnival and Dog Show, and I am certain we will exceed our monetary goals to benefit the animal shelter.”
I hoped there might be cheers in the classroom now, but no matter. I continued.
“As you all know, Mrs. Mellon’s infant daughter Bethany is racking up tons of medical bills. I have a suggestion for a way we can help little Bethany pay some of those bills so she can start saving for college.”
“I can’t wait to hear this!” Mr. Langley said.
“At the end of the carnival this Saturday, we will have two special booths, located right next to each other. One will be the Dimple-Dunk 5000—the largest dunk tank this side of the Mississippi. Next to the Dimple-Dunk 5000 will be a pie-throwing booth, called the “Lewis-Beetle Cure.” For two hours, you can dunk and throw at the person in each booth for only ten dollars for three throws. It’s for a good cause, people! And you, the student body of Ouachita Middle School, will vote on one faculty member, and one student to be the targets in those booths. So, I need to ask you . . . who do you want to see dunked and pied? Cast your votes during lunch all this week. The faculty member and student with the most votes will see how much money they can rake in for the ‘Mini-Mellon’ Fund.”
I switched off the intercom and glanced over at the Mr. Langley, who gave me a sympathetic look.
“They might vote for Jared. Or Paige,” he said.
I laughed. “That’s highly unlikely, considering my current track record. But you might win the faculty vote.”
Dog Show Disaster Page 13