Sled Dog School

by Terry Lynn Johnson

  “With this business growth, my sales have grown.”

  As he held up a piece of cardboard with a chart drawn on it, Matt’s heart sank. Everyone in the class so far had shown an increase in their business. Today he was supposed to show Mr. Moffat his numbers after getting three clients.

  Matt rubbed his palms over the rough material of his jeans.

  “Good job with the math, Jacob,” Mr. Moffat said. “That’s the way to do business. Happy customers make great advertising. But I’m amazed you were able to find so many willing to give their bottles away.”

  Mr. Moffat squinted at the map again, then shrugged. “Okay, whom haven’t we heard from?”

  Matt stayed absolutely still in his chair.

  “Matthew! Almost missed you! How are your lessons?”

  Matt walked slowly to the front as he tried to come up with what to say. When he turned to look at everyone, he hardly noticed the way they stared at him. He was too busy trying to think fast.

  “My lessons are improving,” he began. “We started using four dogs and now we’ve doubled that. One-hundred-percent increase in dogs.”

  “Well . . . I guess that sounds like some good growth.” Mr. Moffat scratched his head, looking confused. “I’m not sure what that means, but I trust you do and that’s what matters. I’m glad the operation of the business is a success. But do you have any numbers to show us?”

  “Operating costs include things like coveralls that I had to provide for the client. They cost twenty-nine dollars. My assets include Foo and Grover and Fester and Tonka and Savage and Atlas and—”

  “Yes, Matthew, thank you. Now you need to provide those numbers on paper so you can show us you know how to do the math.”

  Mr. Moffat stood and, to Matt’s relief, addressed the rest of the class. “I want to see net sales, profit and loss statements, and how much you’re making per hour, just like we’ve been learning since September. One more report before the assignment is due, people!”

  Matt nodded and smiled to show how confident he felt. It was becoming easier to stand up here. He could even look at Rhonda and Jeff in the front row, and Mr. Moffat could hear him now. No more mumbling.

  When he sat back down, he let out a breath. He had another week to find more clients. And to figure out the numbers.

  Sixteen

  “We’re finally doing it,” Matt told Tubbs when he arrived at the Miscos’ house on Friday after school.

  Tubbs eyed him nervously.

  “You’re going to run Flute,” Matt announced. “And do it on your own.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  “Well, not today. But you both will be by the end of our lessons. I promised, didn’t I?”

  “But I still haven’t found you a third client,” Tubbs pointed out. “And . . . is Alex coming back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They both paused and looked sad.

  “Well . . . can you use your mom and dad as clients?”

  “Mr. Moffat says no family members. That way it’s a real business.” Matt watched Tubbs sit on an upside-down bucket next to the barn door. Everything about him was big. His eyes were permanently round, as if trying to take in all the amazing things in life at once. His curiosity about the world was as big as a house, and his smile was even bigger. He had tried to help Matt get clients. It was time Matt helped him.

  “Let’s focus on Flute now.”

  At that news, Tubbs straightened and leaned forward. “Here’s the plan,” Matt said. “We’re going to run a three-dog team with Flute beside Bandit.”

  “Oh. I thought you were going to teach him obedience. To sit and stay and stuff like that,” Tubbs said. He quickly added, “But this sounds okay too.”

  “We’re starting with this. Flute knows Bandit, so he can learn from him. Then if that works, tomorrow you can run those two dogs to chase my team. Two dogs are easier to run than four. Plus you don’t have to share the runners if you’re on your own. You’ll be better balanced. And with those two young dogs, you’ll go fast. The faster you go, the easier it is to steer.”

  “That doesn’t sound right.”

  “I know I haven’t been the best teacher. But just . . . trust me.”

  So far this had been Matt’s Sled Dog School of Having Really Bad Experiences and Then Just Trying Not to Repeat Them. He finally understood Dad’s favorite saying: Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from poor judgment.

  It was time for good judgment.

  Matt wanted his school to show people how amazing the dogs were. And he wanted Tubbs to have fun outside, to not be afraid.

  “This will be the mushing test,” Matt said. “Hook up and run two dogs on your own. Watch them smile and keep them safe, and you’ll pass the lessons.”

  After Matt prepared Foo in lead and gave Tubbs a harness that would fit Flute, they went to get Tubbs’s dog from the pen. Flute stuck his head through the padding of the harness with no problem. But when Tubbs tried to pull Flute’s legs through the webbing, the dog leaped up and bonked him in the chin. Flute tangled, tripped, and fell headfirst into the snow, pulling Tubbs with him.

  Matt took the harness from Tubbs. “Easier to hold him between your knees.”

  When Flute wasn’t looking, Matt stood over the dog, held him firmly with his legs, and stuffed the harness over his head. This time when the dog jumped, Matt was ready for it. He slid the harness under the Lab’s feet and pulled the tug line across the dog’s back in one smooth motion.

  “You make it look so easy,” Tubbs said.

  When Flute felt the tug of the harness, he looked down at his chest, then back at Matt. He lowered his head and pulled Matt toward the sled, his tail wagging furiously.

  “I think he wants to do this!” Tubbs shouted.

  Matt brought Bandit to stand beside Flute and held his breath. But Bandit immediately recognized his buddy. They touched noses while Matt quickly hooked in the yearling.

  As soon as Tubbs and Matt left them to run back to the sled, the dogs jumped each other, Flute’s front feet snagging inside Bandit’s harness. Foo stood in single lead, impatiently watching them over his shoulder. Matt pulled them apart and hauled Flute over the gang line and back onto his side.

  Foo stared down the trail and barked with excitement. The rest of the dogs in the yard voiced their frustration in high-pitched shrieks. Matt felt just as anxious to go as the screaming dogs. Their eagerness was contagious.

  “You’re going to have to hold them before we take off running,” Matt said to Tubbs. “I’ll grab you on the way by.”

  Tubbs stared at him, dubious. “You’re gonna do what, now?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s a thing. Done it lots of times,” Matt called over his shoulder as he raced to the sled. “Just keep the dogs from tying themselves into knots for a second.” He pulled the snub line that attached them to the tree and popped the snow hook.

  “Get ready!” Matt yelled.

  Tubbs moved over as the dogs whipped past him. When Matt got close, Tubbs stretched out his arms with a look of absolute terror on his face. They both reached for each other at the same time. Tubbs clung to the handlebar and jumped onto a runner. He bent over the bar to find his balance, nearly falling, but Matt held him.

  When Tubbs straightened, his face shone. “I did it!”

  They both laughed, the cold wind hitting Matt’s teeth. He felt as if he’d just gotten an A on a report card—which was weird. He jumped onto the runners all the time. It was no big deal.

  But suddenly it was.

  He was proud of Tubbs. Helping him made Matt feel better than he had in a long time.

  Matt punched him in the arm. “You did it!”

  “I. Am. A musher!” Tubbs yelled, and tried to dance, but Matt had to grab him to remind him he was sliding along a trail, balancing on a runner. They clung to the handlebar next to each other in silence for a while. It was as if they didn’t have to say anything to know what t
he other meant. Matt had never had a friend like this.

  Matt watched Flute, who was the whole point to this quest, really. That crazy dog didn’t seem to have any trouble fitting in. He charged down the trail, his long legs galloping awkwardly. The best mix in any dog team was to have experienced dogs for wisdom and young dogs for passion. Bandit was like the spark plug of the team. And now, so was Flute.

  Flute looked over his shoulder at the boys a few times.

  “You’re fine, Flute. Good dog! You’re doing great!”

  Flute faced forward again and pulled with all his heart. The dog had heart.

  And Bandit pulled beside him with unrestrained joy. They weren’t matching their strides yet or anything, but they were both pulling like mad. The team skimmed along the trail, the trees whipped past, and Matt’s smile was freezing on his face.

  * * *

  That night Matt sanded the sled dog he’d whittled while he tried to find in his math book how to get the cost per unit. He heard the phone ring. Dad talked with someone for a while before stomping toward Matt’s room. Matt closed his book. As usual, his dad swung the door wide, nearly falling into the room.

  “That was Mrs. Stevens, Alexandria’s mom.”

  Matt tensed. “Is she letting Alex back?”

  “Seems so. But she’s coming back on a condition.”

  “What condition?”

  “Well, it’s very strange. She’s an . . . unusual woman.” If Dad was calling her unusual and strange, Matt couldn’t even imagine what this condition was.

  “What? What does she want?”

  “Prepare yourself, son. Things are about to get weird around here.”

  Seventeen

  Dad was right. It was weird.

  Saturday morning Tubbs and Matt were about to cross the bridge to the barn when they heard Alex’s car arrive. It was followed by two more cars and a van. A whole bunch of people Matt didn’t know gathered in the driveway while Alex’s mom ordered everyone where to stand.

  “Go get the huskies, Alexandria. Make sure they’re the pretty huskies.”

  “Sorry ’bout this,” Alex mumbled to Matt and Tubbs. Lily joined them in the driveway.

  “What’s going on?” Tubbs asked.

  “Mom works for channel nine,” Alex said, jerking her thumb behind her at the cameramen piling out of the news van. “She’s a reporter for the local community news, and she wants this to be one of her lead stories this week.”

  “As in, we’re going to be on TV?” Tubbs asked, eyes wide. “Holy smoley! Wait till I tell my grandma!”

  “More like, I’m going to be on TV. Me and my mom,” Alex said, staring at her boots.

  Tubbs did an awkward dance of excitement, hopping up and down, his red cheeks quivering. “And I know you! I’m going to know someone on TV!”

  Tubbs seemed to be incapable of a bad thought even if it hit him over the head. But Matt didn’t have that trouble. He narrowed his eyes at the scene in his driveway.

  When Alex turned to him, they both stared at each other. Lily was silent for once, waiting. But Matt couldn’t be angry at Alex for this. Despite what a pain she was, he was happy he hadn’t lost a client. If he let himself think about it, Alex wasn’t just a client anymore. Matt was actually happy she was there. He was glad they hadn’t lost her.

  Then he noticed that Alex and her mom were wearing matching outfits. He really couldn’t be mad at her now. Poor Alex. Her cheeks flamed red.

  “Well, at least Lily has another girl around here again,” Matt said.

  Alex’s shoulders relaxed. “Matt, they want to get a shot of me running the team on the trail. Who do you think I should use?”

  Then they were all busily hooking up dogs and planning the shot with the cameramen while Alex’s mom barked orders as if she were a director. Dad looked on with an incredulous expression on his face. Lily trailed Alex around until Mrs. Stevens gently but firmly moved her out of the shot.

  Matt, of course, chose Grover and Foo in lead because they were dependable. He picked Atlas for wheel, hardly noticing the dog’s stubby tail, his coarse fur, and the rip in his ear from a dogfight when he was in his prime. And beside him Matt used Savage because Alex’s mom wanted “pretty.”

  Tubbs, Alex, and Matt ran the dogs down the trail a short distance before turning the team around. And then the boys helped prepare Alex for her film debut.

  Tubbs fixed her hat, smoothing her hair away from her face.

  Matt stood on the snow hook while giving last-minute advice. “Just feather the brake like I showed you. And don’t forget to set the hook before you leave the sled.”

  “Got it,” Alex said.

  “Rolling in three, two, one . . .” a cameraman called to them.

  Alex reached for the hook and Matt stepped away, letting her take the team. The dogs charged toward the cameraman, eyes blazing, tongues out, smiling like professionals. Alex stood perfectly balanced on the runners.

  And that’s when Matt caught a flash of fur out of the corner of his eye.

  How did the puppies get out? No matter—they were here now, with Dragon leading the escape. Matt partially covered his eyes as he realized where the puppies were heading.

  Straight for Alex’s team.

  They bounded over the snow with fierce focus. At eight weeks, they were about the size of determined bowling balls.

  Matt started running. “Slow down!” he yelled at Alex.

  But he was too far behind and the puppies were too fast. They darted straight at Grover, their favorite dog. In the yard, he was easy-natured, one of the only dogs to allow the pups to climb over him and hang off his ears and lips.

  As the pups reached the team, they barreled into Grover. He tripped, pulling Foo down with him. The wheel dogs crashed on top of them, creating a mad pileup of dogs and teeth and puppy screams.

  The sled stopped dead.

  Alex was pitched into the air and sailed in an impressive arc over all the chaos. Then she tumbled and landed at the feet of the cameraman.

  “Alexandria!” Mrs. Stevens screamed.

  “Grover!” Dad yelled.

  “Got it!” the cameraman shouted.

  By the time Matt reached them, Alex was up and Dad had the team untangled. The dogs were all jazzed. Widemouthed grins, shining eyes. That had been fun.

  “Lily, get these pups to the pen,” Dad said.

  “What kind of sled school is this?” Mrs. Stevens demanded.

  Alex had her back to Matt, her shoulders shaking as if she was sobbing. Matt felt a stab of fear for her. “Alex! Are you okay?”

  She turned to him, her face streaked in tears.

  From laughing.

  “That was so awesome!” she said. “Did you see the look on my mother’s face?”

  The TV crew, along with Dad and Mrs. Stevens, argued among themselves while Matt, Alex, and Tubbs helped Lily round up the puppies, who raced in circles around Mrs. Stevens. How did they know who would give them the biggest reaction?

  Mrs. Stevens kept yelling something about editing the film or “heads would roll.” Dad managed to convince her to let Alex stay while Mrs. Stevens sorted everything out with the TV crew back at the station.

  It was all as weird as Dad said it would be. Mrs. Stevens was the strangest of them all. Matt was starting to see that maybe his parents weren’t the bad kind of weird.

  After the circus left, it was just Matt, Alex, and Tubbs. Matt needed to remember to thank Dad later, for sending Alex’s mom away.

  “Well, that was interesting,” he said.

  “I liked the part when Alex flew through the air,” Tubbs said.

  Alex just grinned at them.

  After all the craziness that had just happened, Matt knew he needed to deliver a coach speech to inspire everyone. The best he could do was quote the plaque that Mom had hung above the couch: SUCCESS AGAINST HARDSHIP AND CHALLENGE BUILDS CONFIDENCE AND SELF-ESTEEM.

  There was a long pause.

  Tubbs shuffled his
feet.

  Matt tried again. “Now, do you guys want to learn something or what?”

  Alex and Tubbs raised their fists and cheered.

  They hooked up three teams of two dogs each. This time, Matt taught everything the right way. He explained how to hit the brake before a turn and then steer into it. He showed them how to pull on the handlebar and bend the sled to cut a corner. And he showed them how to brace themselves on the runners, to absorb the ruts in the trail through their legs.

  But the best part was when Matt talked about the dogs. He demonstrated how to hold a dog between his knees in order to gain enough control to harness the wiggling animal. How to watch their ears and their tails when they ran for signs of trouble.

  “Dogs talk to us through their bodies,” Matt said. “We have to listen to how they’re feeling when they’re on the gang line. Always, always, watch the dogs. It’s the most important thing.”

  Matt noticed how he could read the faces of his students, too. They shone with understanding. His friends got it. Lily had joined them for the last part of the lesson, and her face was shining too.

  They ran the teams one after the other. First Matt lined up with Grover and Foo, with Lily in his sled. Then Tubbs set up with Flute and Bandit, followed by Alex running Savage and Atlas. They pulled their snub lines one by one and took off.

  Tubbs hung on, his glee big enough to melt the North Pole.

  “I’m doing it! Matt!” he yelled. “Do you see me?”

  “Yes, I can see you, Tubbs. I’m right here!” Matt laughed over his shoulder.

  “Does Alex see me? I can’t turn around.”

  “I see you, Tubbs!” Alex screamed from behind them. “You’re doing great!”

  “Look at Flute!” Tubbs continued yelling at Matt. He could hardly contain himself.

  Lily laughed in Matt’s sled. He watched his dogs and felt himself glowing.

  “You should keep your school forever!” Lily said.

  Matt’s good feelings evaporated. He remembered he had to do his fifth assignment report tomorrow, and then he had to hand in his final project report the following week. He did not have three clients. He was going to fail the class.