Sled Dog School

by Terry Lynn Johnson

  She inserted a flash drive into the Smart Board laptop and started up her presentation. “I’m going to mix the ingredients at home, and my mom is going to sell the jars at her store.”

  Her slide show had charts. Fancy charts.

  “Here’s what’s going in the lip-gloss,” she said. “I found the recipes online. I put all the oils in the first column—I might not use them all, but I listed the possibilities. The bases are in the second column. You’ll notice I’m using shea butter and beeswax, not Vaseline, because they’re better for your lips.”

  Homemade Lip-Gloss by Tammy Fuller

  OILS

  BASES

  EXTRA INGREDIENTS

  jojoba oil

  shea butter

  edible glitter

  vitamin E oil

  beeswax

  cocoa powder

  avocado oil

  cinnamon

  coconut oil

  honey

  flavoring oils

  How does she already have charts? Matt wondered.

  “I made up seven flavors of lip-gloss. They have delicious names, so they’re sure to sell fast! I went ahead and created this pie chart to show which flavors I think will be the best sellers.”

  Mr. Moffat smiled. “Thank you for showing us what your business is about. Your charts are very nice. But where are the rest of your answers to our business plan questions from last week?”

  Tammy’s smug smile faltered.

  Mr. Moffat pointed to the list he had taped to the wall next to the door.

  BUSINESS PLAN

  What is your product or service?

  Who will buy it?

  What are your operating costs (including your salary)?

  How will you attract customers?

  What is the competition?

  How much will you charge?

  “Are you going to buy the jars the gloss comes in?” he asked, still pointing at the list. “How much for all those ingredients? I don’t see any numbers here. This is a sixth-grade math assignment. Everyone needs to show the profits and losses calculations we learned about. Even those of you who chose not to start your own business must do the work sheets. Remember, net profit is the amount of money you make minus your expenses. That’s the most important number. Next week, okay, Tammy?”

  Tammy smiled as if she knew this all along. “Of course.”

  Mr. Moffat pushed his glasses up with a finger. “Now, who’s next?”

  Please don’t call on me. Please don’t call on me, Matt pleaded silently.

  “Jacob.”

  The class listened as Jacob talked about his bottle and can recycling business and how he planned to go door-to-door and pick up people’s empty bottles and crushed cans for them. Michigan was the only state in the country to pay ten cents per returned bottle, which was actually a deposit people paid when they bought the bottles in the first place.

  “My business is going to take off,” Jacob bragged. “Maybe be as big as MotorHeads.”

  A few students nodded. Everyone knew the MotorHeads bike shop in town. Even if Jacob’s business wouldn’t be like a real business, with a product and sales, it was still a great idea. Matt suddenly wished he’d thought of it.

  The pounding in his ears grew louder. The room seemed to pulse.

  “Matthew,” Mr. Moffat said.

  Matt’s throat went dry. He forced himself to stand on shaky legs and stumbled to the front of the room. All faces turned toward him to stare. His eyeballs froze. Matt wasn’t able to do anything but stare back. Someone tittered near the classroom door and it released the spell. Matt clutched his homework sheet in front of him.

  “I’m teaching dogsledding,” he began.

  “What’s that, Matthew?” Mr. Moffat said, squinting and leaning toward him. “Speak up.”

  Matt looked out over the sea of faces and picked a spot on the back wall to stare at. “I’m going to get clients and show them how to run a team. Like piano lessons. But with dogs.”

  “You’re offering piano lessons?” Mr. Moffat asked.

  Jacob barked out a laugh.

  “Dogsled lessons.”

  “Oh! Well . . . all right, that’s a unique service. How are you going to know if your lessons are a success? Will they have to pass a test?”

  “Um . . . yeah.”

  “Sounds interesting. Less mumbling next time, okay? And don’t forget the numbers. Now, Chloe Bickle, let’s have your report, please.”

  * * *

  When the bell rang, Mr. Moffat yelled above the noise of scraping chairs. “Good work, everyone! Nice to see these ideas coming together. I’m looking forward to next week. Matthew, can you see me for a minute?”

  Jacob said, “Ooooh!” in a singsong manner as Matt shuffled past him.

  After everyone was gone, Mr. Moffat sat on the edge of his desk and removed his glasses. He started cleaning them with his tie, which was never a good sign. “Matthew, I like your business idea.”

  Matt nodded, not sure where this was going but wishing he were somewhere else.

  “I know you’ve been struggling this semester with the work. I’m glad you’ve decided to do the assignment and improve your grade. Even so, I’m thinking it might be beneficial for you to get extra help. In the remedial class they do the same type of math but explain it a little more slowly, a little more thoroughly. It might be good for you. I don’t want you to fail. What do you think about that idea?”

  Matt’s throat tightened but he managed to squeak out, “I don’t need extra help. I can do better!”

  He didn’t want to prove Jacob right by taking a special class for kids who needed extra help. What would everyone say? Matt had to stay out of the remedial class.

  “Okay, then. I’m expecting great things from you in the next few weeks.” Mr. Moffatt held his glasses in front of him and peered through.

  “Yes sir,” Matt said.

  “I know you’re naturally athletic, so I don’t doubt you’ll be a great instructor. But you also need to show me your record-keeping skills. Make sure you find three clients so you can calculate your net profits or losses from your gross sales. Just like we’ve been learning all semester. If you need help accessing the computers, just come to me, okay?”

  Matt didn’t even remember learning what gross sales were, but they didn’t sound good. “Okay,” he said, and headed out the door to the buses.

  How did anyone understand math class? One thing was sure: Matt needed to get started on finding clients before the next report was due.

  Three

  Just before supper Friday night, the phone rang.

  “Matt!” Dad yelled, even though Matt was standing right beside him. “Phone’s for you!”

  Matt’s heart did a little jump of hope as he took the phone. He’d been waiting all week for those words.

  “You the one running the sled dog school?” The voice belonged to a boy.

  Matt stretched the telephone cord to the limit trying to get out of the kitchen for privacy. He wished again that they had a normal cell phone like everyone else, instead of the old-fashioned landline. But cell phones needed electricity to charge.

  “Yup, I’m Matt.”

  “I’d like to sign up. Can I bring my dog? He’s really well trained.”

  “Um, I guess so. You’d have to keep him away from the sled dogs, though. They don’t like pets.”

  “Okay. We can do that. I’m Tubbs. When can I start?”

  “Tubbs?”

  “Yeah.”

  There was a pause on the line before Matt said, “Saturday morning. Classes are on the weekends. Ten bucks a week.”

  They sorted out the details and times as the dogs began to howl outside. Pegasus and the pups were in the house and immediately tilted their heads, listening. Pegasus threw her head back and let out a long, low howl, which sounded a thousand times louder than normal because it bounced off the kitchen walls.

  “What’s that noise?” Tubbs asked.

  T
he pups joined in. Their little yodels sounded pathetic next to Pegasus’s.

  “What is that?” Tubbs asked again. “Sounds like you’re strangling a cat.”

  “Nothing. Just be here tomorrow morning,” Matt said.

  With the dogs howling outside, the pups trying to sing inside, and Dad’s booming laugh, Matt could hardly hear the voice on the phone.

  “Gotta go, Tubbs. See you tomorrow.”

  Lily began to howl with the pups in the corner.

  A grin spread across Matt’s face. He had his first client.

  Matt’s Sled Dog School had begun.

  * * *

  Saturday morning Matt hurried out of bed and ran along the cold wooden floor of the hall to throw a piece of wood into the wood stove. The kids on the bus complained he smelled like smoke, but that made no sense to him since the stove had a door on it. Still, he wished his family had a normal furnace that blew hot air into the house. Matt hopped from one bare foot to the other as he stuffed the log in and then adjusted the damper on the side of the stovepipe.

  At the kitchen sink, he pumped water from the hand pump and set it on the stove for breakfast before he pulled on a pair of wool socks, climbed into his coveralls, and headed to the dog yard. He had a lot of chores to get through before Tubbs arrived.

  As Matt crossed the wooden bridge over the creek that ran through their property, frozen now for the season, he wondered what Tubbs would be like. He sounded nice, but that could change once he saw how Matt lived.

  The warmth of the barn hit him as he entered. He pumped water into two buckets partially filled with thawing ground chicken parts. The familiar raw smell wafted up as he stirred the contents with an ax handle. Tubbs could meet Matt in the barn. There were only five weekends left until the semester was finished. Matt could call the barn his office, so he wouldn’t need to let Tubbs—and hopefully two more clients—into the house.

  “You forgot the vitamin pack for Pegasus,” Lily said, running up behind Matt as he finished making the dogs’ breakfast.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do?” He took the vitamins from her and stuffed them into his pocket, and then picked up the heavy buckets.

  “Dad says you have to watch me, even when you do your sled school thing.” Lily put her hands on her hips. “He’s working all day, and Mom’s got a meeting.”

  Matt lowered a bucket to hand Lily a shovel. Her smile turned to a pout, but she took it and trudged behind her brother.

  As soon as they rounded the corner past the barn, the dog yard erupted with hoots and screams and barks as twenty-two Alaskan huskies ran in hysterical circles, growling at their neighbors. Breakfast time was exciting. Along with snack time, suppertime, play time, and sled-pulling time.

  “Calm down, Atlas, I’m coming.” As the oldest dog in the yard, Atlas was staked out closest to the house and was the first dog they greeted. The buckets were heavy, and Matt’s arms shook as he shuffled quickly to Atlas’s circle. It was only a few months ago that Matt had had to stop for a break before he made it to Atlas. Now he noted with pride that he was getting stronger. Carrying buckets twice a day would do that.

  Matt was scooping the bloody chicken water into bowls when he heard a vehicle pull up. He turned to see a kid and dog jump out of a gray minivan, which then started backing out of the driveway. Was that Tubbs? So early? Matt hadn’t even had breakfast yet.

  An enthusiastic yellow Lab dragged a boy about Matt’s age toward him. The Lab was all legs and hipbones—a yearling. The boy was the exact opposite. In fact, the closer he came, the more Matt could see the strained look on his full red cheeks, the way his fancy padded coat was clearly too small to contain all of him.

  “FLUTE!” Tubbs yelled, trying to stay on his feet behind the dog. Flute saw Matt’s dogs now, and Matt could tell this was not going to go well.

  Tubbs and Flute thundered toward the footbridge, but at the last minute, the dog veered down the bank instead of staying on the path. Tubbs went down in an explosion of snow. His round eyes were the last things Matt saw before Tubbs disappeared.

  A moment later, he saw the Lab slingshot up the side of the creek, dragging a long nylon leash. Tubbs’s bright green hat bobbed behind the snowbank as if he was trying to get up but couldn’t.

  Lily was still staring as the dog flew toward her. She wasn’t fast enough to move out of the way. Her arms came up a second before she was mowed down.

  “Lily!” Matt dropped the ladle in alarm.

  Now the Lab had a clear path to Atlas. The expression on Flute’s face told Matt the dog had no sense of self-preservation. He was clearly hoping to make new friends. Couldn’t he see the murderous look in Atlas’s eyes?

  Matt rushed to head off Flute before the Lab reached Atlas. His huskies had turned into a pack, howling for the blood of the newcomer who dared to enter the yard.

  “Flute! No!” Tubbs was still rolling around, trying to get out of a hole.

  Flute wore a big grin as he lunged to play with Atlas. Matt leaped into the air and tackled Flute just as Atlas’s jaws snapped shut behind him.

  “Bad dog!” Lily said, standing over them, apparently uninjured.

  Flute finally changed his focus and began slobbering over Matt’s face. Matt was trying to fend him off as Tubbs shuffled up to take the leash back.

  “Holy smoley! You, like, caught him in midair!”

  “Sled dogs don’t like pet dogs,” Matt said, trying to keep the pride off his face. It was a good catch. “Is this your ‘really well trained’ dog?”

  “Yeah, about that.” Tubbs wrapped the leash around his wrist a couple times and bent over his knees as he caught his breath. Matt could hear him wheeze. “Flute needs to finish his obedience training, but my parents . . . they want him to learn too while I’m here.”

  Matt pointed at Atlas behind him, who was pacing stifflegged back and forth. “My dogs think he’s snack food.”

  Tubbs sagged a little. Both boys stood a moment, listening to the dogs screaming behind Matt.

  Tubbs shuffled. The dejected look on his face made Matt blurt, “Maybe we’ll try. Later.”

  Tubbs immediately brightened. He beamed at Matt. “Thanks! This is going to be great. Flute’s a good dog, you’ll see. He’s just misunderstood.”

  “For now, let’s put him in the pen till the dogs get used to him. They’ll be able to see and smell him, but, you know . . . not rip him apart in there.”

  Tubbs handed Matt the leash, and Matt led Flute to the pen. The dog bounded inside as if he were going to Disneyland. Matt locked the door behind him.

  “You may as well help me with chores. I’m not done yet,” Matt said, gesturing for Tubbs to follow.

  Most likely “Tubbs” is a nickname, Matt thought. But why would you use a nickname like that? Tubbs could have told him his real name, since Matt had never met him.

  Another thought occurred to Matt. Tubbs didn’t know him either. Tubbs didn’t sit on the bus, hadn’t heard what the other kids said about him. He hadn’t sat in his class and heard him read out loud. Tubbs was here wanting to learn dogsledding. And Matt was good at dogsledding. Matt stood a little taller and led him into the yard.

  Four

  “This is Atlas, my wheel dog. That’s the position closest to the sled. He doesn’t like pets,” Matt repeated, and then glanced at Tubbs. “Obviously.”

  “Right.”

  Matt scratched a pure white dog with one blue eye and one brown. The dog immediately snatched his mitten, making Matt wrestle it out of his mouth. “This is Foo. He’s smart, so I use him in lead.”

  “Foo?”

  “Yeah—can you tell which dogs Lily named?”

  “What?” Lily said, indignant.

  “I’ve got a younger sister too,” Tubbs said to Matt, giving him a knowing look. They nodded at each other, and in that moment, Matt thought maybe they could be friends.

  Matt led the way in showing Tubbs the rest of the dog yard. It was a large open space with rows of
straw-filled doghouses, each with a sunshade, a sunning platform, and a dog dish attached. Trees surrounded the yard on three sides and the barn ran along the fourth side, with the trail through the woods past that. The breeze blew through the open yard, keeping the bugs at bay during summer.

  As Matt introduced the dogs by name and position, Tubbs stood in the middle of the dog yard, looking around and blinking. Matt realized he should have started slower. He forgot sometimes that a full dog yard could be overwhelming if someone was used to having only one dog.

  “How can you tell them apart?” Tubbs asked. “They all look the same.”

  “What? No they don’t. Look.” Matt pointed to the two sled dogs behind them. “Fester and Arrow are both red, but Fester has a wide face and he always has that impatient expression. See how he looks as if he’s about to explode? He just always wants to run. Arrow has a pointy face with a calmness in her eyes.” It was hard for Matt to believe anyone could think the dogs looked alike.

  But the dogs weren’t paying much attention to them. Most were focused on the new dog in the pen, shooting him hostile looks. Flute still seemed intent on making friends, gazing back happily.

  “I have to use your bathroom,” Tubbs said suddenly.

  “Just go behind a tree.”

  “Um . . . no, rather not.”

  “Well, our bathroom’s broken.”

  “No it’s not,” said Lily.

  “You just got here, man,” Matt said. “Seriously?”

  “It’ll only take a minute.” Tubbs shuffled toward the house and Matt had no choice but to follow him. His mind tried to keep up. How was he going to keep Tubbs from going inside their home? Matt hadn’t thought this through.

  When they got to the porch, Matt stepped in front of Tubbs. “Listen. My parents are different. They have weird ideas about things. Like electricity.”

  “Electricity?”