Sled Dog School

by Terry Lynn Johnson

  “This is the last report before assignments are due,” Mr. Moffat said, as if it were the best news in the world. “I’m eager to hear what you all have for me today. Let’s start with Tammy.”

  Normally Tammy marched when she walked anywhere. A particular way of strutting that Matt could recognize from across a field. So he was surprised to see Tammy slink past him on her way to the front of the class. When she turned around, everyone gasped.

  Her lips were bright red and puffy. Huge. The rest of her face was blotchy and sort of swollen. Tears spilled out of her red-rimmed eyes.

  “My little brother put cayenne pepper into the Cinnabon-bon pot. He swapped it for the cinnamon. They look the same!” she wailed. “It ruined the whole batch. We had customers returning their Cinnabon-bon, plus the unopened jars of different flavors they’d bought in case those were ruined too. They told us they’d warn people away from our lip-gloss. I didn’t understand until I tested the Cinnabon-bon on myself this morning.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mr. Moffat said above everyone’s laughter. “I trust no one was seriously hurt. But did you do the math for your business?”

  “Oh, yes, my mom made me add up all the expenses. She said she’d told me not to buy so many ingredients, but I wanted to have a good variety.” Tammy inserted her flash drive into the laptop. “My business would’ve been great if my brother hadn’t wrecked it. My whole project is a failure!”

  Homemade Lip-Gloss by Tammy Fuller

  Expenses

  white beeswax pellets

  $11

  shea butter

  $7

  vitamin E oil

  $6

  extra ingredients

  $9

  flavoring oils @ $5 × 6 =

  $30

  mini lip-gloss jars (50)

  $28

  total:

  $91

  Cost of each jar of lip-gloss

  $91 ÷ 50 jars = $1.82 per jar

  Sales (many clients)

  11 Cherrylicious

  1 Banana Manga

  2 Blueberry Blaster

  8 Choco Smoothie

  6 Strawberry Sparkle

  8 Gorgeous Grapefruit

  9 Cinnabon-bon

  45 total = 45 jars sold

  total sales: 45 jars sold × $3.60 per jar = $162.00

  loss of sales: 22 jars returned × $3.60 per jar = $79.20

  Total time to make and sell

  5 hours per week × 5 weeks = 25 hours

  DEBIT

  CREDIT

  income

  $162.00

  expenses

  $91.00

  total

  $91.00

  $162.00

  minus returns

  $79.20

  net income -$8.20

  Tammy’s laser pointer quivered over the last line. “I don’t even know how to calculate how much my salary was per hour when my business lost money!”

  “Tammy, this is fantastic!” Mr. Moffat clapped his hands. “The assignment wasn’t about making a successful business, it was to show the numbers. You’ve done this brilliantly! Some businesses operate at a loss for the first year. This teaches us a lesson in expenses, doesn’t it? All entrepreneurs need to balance the needs of the business with their budget! I love your math. Great work. Looks like your report is ready to hand in.”

  Tammy blinked. “R-really? It is?” She wiped her nose. “I did predict Cherrylicious would be a top seller.” She stood straighter, retrieved her flash drive, and marched back to her seat.

  Mr. Moffat scanned his sheet. “Jacob, how’s business?”

  Jacob didn’t move from his seat.

  “Jacob? Do you have a report?”

  “Nope.”

  “We all have to report. What happened?”

  “Had to return the money,” Jacob mumbled.

  “What’s that? You have a loss too? That’s okay, as I’ve said. Just need to see the numbers in your assignment when you hand it in next week. Why did you return the money?”

  “Um . . . I might have mentioned the bottle drive was for charity.”

  “What?” Mr. Moffat yelled.

  Everyone in the room sat straighter and shut up. Mr. Moffat never yelled.

  Jacob shuffled to the front of the room through the deathly quiet. “My clients assumed it was for a charity. I just told them it was for school. That’s what they wanted to hear. But then Mr. Lewis asked my dad about it at the Beef and Burp, and Dad sort of lost it.”

  “I’ll need to speak with you later, Jacob. And your parents. Sit down, please.” Mr. Moffat stalked back to his desk and wrote a note. He took his glasses off and cleaned them with his tie.

  “Mr. Misco. How is everything with you? Are you working on your final sales report?”

  Matt stood. “Well . . . we had a full house this weekend. Couldn’t fit one more car in our driveway.”

  “Wow! That’s impressive. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear that. I’m so proud of you, and I can’t wait to read your final report. Okay, let’s open our workbooks.”

  Jacob’s problem seemed to have distracted Mr. Moffat from noticing that Matt didn’t have any numbers either. He wondered how impressed and proud his teacher would be next week when he learned that Matt didn’t have the required three clients.

  Eighteen

  Friday night, Tubbs called Matt seconds before Mrs. Stevens’s news report was aired on the local television station.

  “Okay, it’s on,” he said breathlessly, then squealed with delight. “There’s Flute!”

  Tubbs described the clip in detail as he watched. “Alex and her mom are standing around. Now Alex and her mom are talking about dogsledding. They just said, ‘Matt’s Sled Dog School,’ but I don’t see you,” Tubbs reported.

  “Mrs. Stevens is saying how great her daughter is at everything she does,” Tubbs said. “And how dogsledding is another unique sport that her daughter has . . . incorporated into her productive schedule of . . . um . . . I can’t understand what she’s saying, really. But she keeps petting her fur coat like it’s going to start barking. I think she likes talking about Alex.”

  “Poor Alex,” Matt said. He wished he could see the TV report for himself.

  “Wait. Now they’re showing the part with the crash. Oh . . . there she goes! You can even see Alex’s grin as she’s flying through the air. Yeah, sounds like Mrs. Stevens screaming in the background. Now, that’s entertaining TV!”

  As soon as Matt got off the phone with Tubbs, the phone rang again.

  “Is this Matt’s Sled Dog School?” an all-too-familiar voice asked. “We just saw it on TV and I want to sign up.”

  Dread flowed through Matt’s veins. This was what he wanted. He’d have three clients. Just in time, he’d be able to hand in his final assignment next week. But the voice on the other line made his heart hammer. Yet he had no choice.

  “Yup,” Matt said. “I don’t know why you’re all of a sudden interested in my project, Jacob. But you can start tomorrow. It’s ten bucks a week, cash only. We meet in my yard at ten in the morning. You know where to find it.”

  * * *

  Jacob’s car pulled into the driveway Saturday morning. Matt kept thinking it had just been some joke he was trying to pull. But there Jacob was, stepping out of his mom’s Jeep and looking around imperiously.

  “’Sup, Smokey?”

  “Stop calling me that.” Matt had just finished cleaning the dog yard and really wished he wasn’t holding a poop shovel.

  “Okay, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m just playing with you.”

  Cool as he could, Matt hurried to the barn and leaned the shovel against the side where it belonged. As Jacob’s mom drove away, the dogs started up a happy howl. They had warm chicken broth in their bellies and a clean yard, and they knew they were going for a run soon. Life was good enough to sing about.

  Matt glanced over to see Foo on top of his doghouse with his head thrown back, his ruf
fed neck stretched out. His long, low howl wavered and curled around the others’. Matt could pick out each distinct voice. Savage had the nicest howl, rich and wonderful. And then the pups started up from their pen. They were getting louder, not better, but they tried.

  “Hey, listen to the dogs! They’re celebrating that I’m here. When do we get started, yo?”

  Somehow, Jacob’s voice ruined the whole song.

  “We have to wait for the others to get here before we start. I have a lesson plan.”

  “That girl from TV?”

  “Yeah, and my friend Tubbs.” Matt didn’t know why he felt the need to stress that Tubbs was his friend. He stared at Jacob and remembered the last time he’d been here. Matt couldn’t believe he’d ever thought Jacob was his friend. And now Jacob was back at his house.

  At least Dad was watching Lily today. He’d finally finished his big pottery order, and things were going back to normal. Matt glanced at Jacob again. Normal for us, anyway, Matt thought.

  As soon as Tubbs’s minivan showed up, Matt let out a relieved sigh. He was like a dog with his pack at his back. He felt bigger, as though he could face down an intruder, as long as he wasn’t alone.

  But when Jacob watched Tubbs climb out of his vehicle with Flute and huff over to them, Jacob’s eyes widened and a smirk crept over his face. A hot feeling flooded through Matt.

  Alex arrived right after Tubbs. For a long moment, they all just stood there eyeing one another. Both Alex and Jacob were busy looking down their noses at each other, which would have been funny to Matt any other time.

  Matt was just realizing he should probably say something when Flute made an unexpected dash for the dog yard. Tubbs tripped over the snow, fell onto his face, and let go of the leash. Matt met Tubbs’s eyes, full of worry, before they all ran after the Lab.

  Flute beelined straight to Atlas, his leash trailing behind. Were they going to have a dogfight before Jacob even started the lesson?

  Flute skidded to a halt right before he reached the old dog. Amazingly, he dropped his head at the last moment and approached with a submissive crawl. Atlas sniffed him and then promptly ignored him. Tubbs and Matt gaped at each other and then started laughing.

  “The dogs love him now!” Tubbs said.

  “Yeah, I think Bandit told them that Flute’s all right,” Matt said, “even though he’s not like them.”

  “That is fascinating,” Alex said, gesturing excitedly toward the dogs. “Watch them! Atlas is telling all the other dogs now. He’s communicating the way the Canis lupus does, with his whole demeanor.”

  When she noticed the expressions on Tubbs’s and Matt’s faces, she shrugged and then grinned. “I studied Canis lupus behavior for a school project once. That’s gray wolf. Even though dogs are a subspecies of wolves, Canis lupus familiaris, they speak the same language.”

  As they watched, Atlas approached Flute. Flute rolled onto his back. Matt was shocked to see Atlas do a play bow, inviting Flute to join. Flute leaped up and began racing in circles.

  “Yeah!” Tubbs did a little jig of excitement.

  Jacob started laughing, but he wasn’t laughing with them. He was laughing at Tubbs.

  Matt’s whole body stiffened. He suddenly recalled all the times Jacob had made fun of his family—how he had everyone chanting “Smokey” on the bus, how he had told everyone Matt’s family drank curdled milk—and all of it came together inside Matt and exploded out.

  He turned on Jacob. “Don’t laugh at him. Why are you so rotten? I’m not letting you make fun of anyone here. Especially not my friends.”

  Jacob stopped laughing and turned to face Matt with a puzzled expression. “You have friends? That’s funny. Only you would have a Goodyear blimp and a teacher’s-pet wolf-girl as friends. A whale and a wolf-girl.” He laughed too loudly at his own joke.

  Matt stood in front of Tubbs. Wordlessly, Alex joined him. With the tense silence in the wake of Jacob’s words, even the dogs had gone quiet. Watching. Matt’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

  Suddenly, he remembered Mom’s words about dealing with things by using his mind, not his fists. He glanced at Tubbs. His friend was looking at the ground. He was acting as if he was used to bullies like Jacob. Did he get teased at school too?

  Matt only knew he didn’t want Jacob anywhere near Tubbs.

  “Why are you even here?” Matt asked Jacob.

  “I saw how fast the dogs ran on TV,” Jacob said. “I want to have them pull me like that.”

  “Dogs can sense a good person, you know,” Matt said. “They can tell if someone’s rotten. They know what you’re like inside just from your smell. Did you know that? Do you think we should bring you over to Atlas there and get him to smell you? He nearly ripped someone’s face off last week because they didn’t say please and thank you. What do you think he’ll do to you?”

  Jacob looked at Atlas uneasily. “That’s dumb. As if.”

  “Yeah,” Tubbs said. “Last week was bad. There was blood everywhere. Atlas is a killer.”

  Alex and Matt stared at Tubbs. He stared at Jacob.

  “That dog doesn’t look so tough,” Jacob finally said. “He’s not fighting with Fatso’s dog, and that dog looks about as dumb as a stump.”

  “That’s it. You’re not getting lessons.”

  “What? You can’t do that.” Jacob’s expression shifted slightly—he almost looked desperate. His shoulders sagged as though they were suddenly tired of bearing a weight.

  “I need to . . . I have to hide out for the day,” he said with a small voice. “Dad’s on a rampage about the whole bottle drive thing. I have to stay out of his way.”

  Matt felt uneasy that Jacob seemed to have finally said something true. But Matt still needed to protect his friends. “This is my school. I make the rules.”

  Jacob’s expression turned steely again. “But I’m a paying customer. And don’t you need all your paying customers?”

  Jacob was right. Matt did need them.

  “The dogs only pull real mushers. You have to take the lessons to become a musher, and you can’t, because . . .” Matt took a deep breath. “Because I’m not teaching you. You’re expelled.”

  Nineteen

  As they al, watched Jacob leave, Matt watched his last chance to pass the school project leave too. With the final report due Monday morning, there was no time left to have enough sales to show what Mr. Moffat was asking for. Matt needed three clients, and he had only two. Even he could do that math.

  “Well, now that he’s gone, we can have some fun,” Alex said. “Nice one about the face-ripping-off part.”

  Matt shrugged. “I was improvising.”

  “The dogs don’t really do that, right?” Tubbs said.

  “Not the face thing, but they do smell people.”

  “Wish they had been around during summer camp when I left a candy bar in my sleeping bag,” Tubbs said. “Would’ve been easier than trying to explain to everyone that it was chocolate all over my pajamas.”

  “Augh!” Alex covered her face. “TMI, Tubbs!”

  “No one would smell my PJs to believe me!” Tubbs continued.

  “Let’s get the sleds ready, Hershey,” Matt said, giving Tubbs a knock on the shoulder.

  When they laid out the gang line, Matt noticed one of the tugs was almost chewed through.

  “Yikes, I have to fix this first,” he said, separating the tug line from the gang line. Finding new lines in the barn, Matt started measuring and cutting.

  “How do you know how long these should be?” Tubbs asked, watching Matt splice the ends into loops with a wooden fid.

  “I just measure the length minus the loop at the end,” Matt said. “Look—the tug lines should all be equal lengths, long enough for the dogs to reach the neckline, but not too long, or they’ll get tangled.”

  Matt stretched out the lines and noticed with satisfaction they were all the same. Then he raced to the house to ask Lily if she wanted to come, even though Dad wa
s watching her.

  They ran three teams of two all the way to the base camp. No one fell off, lost their team, or got dragged.

  When they returned to the barn, they watched as the dogs lay in the snow, still harnessed, and gnawed on their snacks of fist-size frozen chicken. Grover growled and eyed Foo suspiciously. The dogs turned so they were facing away from each other, but their backs still touched. Snowflakes fell lightly onto the dogs’ fur.

  “Flute is like one of the team now,” Tubbs said, sitting on his overturned bucket. “Thanks to Bandit.”

  Lily, sitting on Alex’s lap, lighted up as if she were the one who’d been praised.

  “Lily,” Matt said, “why do you always pick Bandit when you want to run the dogs? What is it about him out of all the dogs in the yard?”

  “I love him. He’s my favorite.”

  “But why?”

  She shrugged and stopped braiding Alex’s hair long enough to look at Matt. “He’s the youngest, besides the new puppies. And no one thinks he’s ready to run. But he told me he is! Sometimes I come out when no one else is around, and he tells me things.”

  Matt immediately recalled his own nights with Foo, sleeping in the pen with him. Sometimes, you just had a soul connection with a dog and you couldn’t explain it to anyone.

  He nodded at his sister. “Maybe he’ll be your lead dog one day, Lil.”

  She looked at Matt as if to say, Well, duh! and went back to Alex’s hair.

  For a moment, there was no sound but the dogs’ lips smacking as they chewed with their mouths open.

  A sadness hit Matt. This was their last class together. He’d just gotten the hang of being a teacher. He’d miss the teaching, but most of all, he would miss running with Tubbs and Alex.