Sled Dog School
Page 10
Matt picked up the bag he had hidden in the corner of the barn in preparation for this moment. He peeked inside with satisfaction. Yes, this was the right decision. Last night, when he remembered he had promised musher certificates, he knew what would be the perfect prize.
“Everyone passed the test to complete Matt’s Sled Dog School,” he announced, reaching into the bag. “Everyone made it to the base camp and back with their own team.”
Matt pulled out the whittled sled dog he’d finished last night with a final polish of sandpaper. The final piece to his whittled six-dog team. But instead of placing it in the glass display case in his room, he had carefully printed with a fine-tipped marker the words JUNIOR MUSHER. And on the other side he’d written SLED DOG SCHOOL GRADUATE. He’d taken the other lead dog from the display and written the same on that one, too.
He presented them to Tubbs and Alex.
“Did you make this?” Alex asked with surprise. “Wow! This is good!”
Tubbs’s eyes widened as he accepted his sled dog and ran his fingers over the dog’s pointed ears. “Thanks for the cat!”
Matt’s face fell.
“Joking!” Tubbs said, nudging him. “This is amazing! Junior musher!” He hooted with delight. Watching him dance, Matt smiled. He might’ve failed the project, but at least he hadn’t failed his friends.
* * *
Monday morning Matt woke up early and considered playing sick. He lay in bed for a while before he remembered that sick people in his house didn’t get to play with the dogs, and they didn’t get a story. They were forced to eat chicken soup, which Matt hated. And it was really boring to stay home all day.
Besides, he had to face the fact that he’d failed to complete the project. Today or tomorrow would yield the same result. So he got up and wrote down what he knew. But his numbers included only two clients. And he still hadn’t worked out how much they spent on dog food for six weeks. He had the total for a month, though, and he figured that was enough. He would count five dogs that he had to feed—the five plus Flute that he, Alex, and Tubbs had used in their final run on Saturday, before graduating. But he didn’t know what to do with the rest of the numbers.
MATT’S SLED DOG SCHOOL BY MATT MISCO
Assets
dogsleds
harnesses
gang line
sled dogs
Expenses:
coveralls $29
dog food $20 per month per dog
used 5 dogs: 20 + 5 = $25
$20 × 5 = $100
Sales (2 clients)
Tubbs
$50
Alex
$40 (4 weeks)
total:
$90
He shut his book in disgust and jammed it into his backpack. Thinking about everyone finding out he had to take the remedial math class almost made him sick for real.
* * *
After chores, Matt was putting on his school coat when the dogs started up a ruckus. He peered out the window to see Tubbs’s minivan pulling into the driveway. Confused, Matt ran outside to meet him. Why was Tubbs here before school? Matt’s bus would show up any minute.
Tubbs spied him as he climbed out the side door of the van. He started to wave, missed a step, and fell out onto the snow. But he bounced up, a huge grin splitting his face.
“What’s going on?” Matt asked.
“Guess what? You’ll never guess. Holy smoley, I should make you guess. Can you guess? Or do you need a clue? I should give you a—”
“Tubbs! Come on, I’m going to miss my bus. What is it?”
As Tubbs waved an envelope in front of Matt, Tubbs’s dad yelled out the van door. “Let’s go! I said one minute!”
Tubbs thrust the envelope into Matt’s hands, grinned, then dived back into the vehicle. As he slid the door shut, he yelled, “I’m like a drive-by delivery hero. So cool! Call you tonight.”
The bus arrived as the minivan skidded out of the driveway. Matt shoved the envelope into his pocket and raced inside. He grabbed his backpack, yelling goodbye, and then sprinted for the bus. Lily’s little bus was already coming down the road by the time he reached his.
Mrs. Wilson scowled at him and then shut the door with a dramatic crank of the large lever. Matt slid into the first empty seat and took out the envelope. He stared at the crisp handwriting.
MATTHEW MISCO
When he tore open the envelope, the first thing he noticed was all the money. More bills than he was used to holding. He snatched the letter that was attached and started to read.
Matthew—
Enclosed is payment for Tyler for five weeks of dogsledding lessons. Also included is payment for Flute. You have done something marvelous with this dog. He has been well-behaved in the house since you started training him. I thank you for doing a good job. I will tell my friends about your dog training services.
—Mrs. White
The letter dropped into Matt’s lap. He sifted through the cash. One hundred dollars? He glanced around as if looking for a hidden camera, because this was so weird.
Training? He hadn’t trained Flute. Not obedience training the way Tubbs had expected. Matt had just gotten the dog running. Come to think of it, Flute had had so much fun running with the team, he put all of his energy into it.
Matt didn’t think the Lab had been used to the exercise. All dogs needed exercise. Flute had probably been crazy in the house all the time because he hadn’t had any way to let out his energy. Running in the team kept him happy, and he must’ve been quieter in the house afterward.
Matt had to read the letter again before he realized what this meant. It was as if the sun found all the windows in the bus at once and shone in, covering everything with light. Matt’s whole body hummed with relief.
Flute is my third client.
Twenty
All the way to school Matt studied examples in his math book. He still couldn’t figure out which numbers to multiply and which to divide.
It was like staring at a locked door without the key. His mind didn’t work in neat rows. It was more messy.
As the bus pulled in front of the school, Matt wrote down the three sales for the project, still amazed at the fact that he had gotten all three clients. He carefully added the numbers. At least he knew that much. After he wrote out the rest, he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do next.
MATT’S SLED DOG SCHOOL BY MATT MISCO
Assets:
dogsleds
harnesses
gang line
sled dogs
Expenses:
coveralls
$29
dog food ($20 x 5 dogs =)
$100
total:
$129
Sales (3 clients):
Tubbs
$50
Alex
$40 (4 weeks)
Flute
$50
total:
$140
Debit
Credit
income
$140
expenses
$129
total
net income:
140 ÷ 129 =
Total time to teach lessons
24 hours: 3 hours for every Saturday (5), Sunday (1), Wednesday (1), and Friday (1)
Salary:
Matt was so absorbed by the calculations, he didn’t even hear Jacob approach until the page was torn from his hands.
“What? Didn’t finish your assignment?” Jacob smirked. “Guess you shouldn’t have kicked out your last client, huh?”
Matt held out his hand for the sheet. “I didn’t need you, Jacob. I had others. Real mushers. Give it.”
Jacob peeked at the figures. “Handwritten? This looks like trash.” He pulled out his own final report. “I did mine on the computer like a professional.”
Matt had time only to see Jacob’s neat columns and rows before Jacob snapped the book shut. He tossed Matt’s page over his shoulder. “Good luck with
that, loser.”
Mrs. Wilson watched Jacob leave. Matt suddenly realized he was the last one on the bus. He picked up the page and stuffed it into his backpack as he hurried down the aisle. He expected the driver to grumble at him for making her wait.
“Let me see what you have there,” she said instead.
Matt showed her, too embarrassed to know what else to do.
As Mrs. Wilson looked over the numbers, she took out a pencil from the visor above her. “Don’t pay him any mind,” she said gruffly. “He’s just jealous of you.”
“Jealous? Why would he be jealous of me?”
She checked behind Matt before leaning closer. “You have loving, supportive parents, don’t you?” She lowered her voice. “Try to be kind. I know it’s difficult when others take out their troubles on us.”
She studied Matt’s page. “You should remember that everyone you meet is fighting a battle you don’t know anything about. So you put twenty-four hours into this?”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s forty take away twenty-nine?”
Matt stared, feeling panicked. “Um . . . what?”
“One hundred forty minus one hundred twenty-nine. Don’t think of how big the numbers are. Just ignore the number one in front of the hundreds. Then count up from twenty-nine to forty. Twenty-nine, thirty, then ten more to make forty, right? That makes eleven the difference between them. Follow?”
“Yeah,” Matt said, not positive he did. But ignoring the hundred did seem simpler.
When she passed Matt’s page back, she was all business again. “Now hurry up! Get off my bus!” She winked.
What a strange lady, Matt thought.
He glanced down to see she had completed the math he’d started.
MATT’S SLED DOG SCHOOL BY MATT MISCO
Assets:
dogsleds
harnesses
gang line
sled dogs
Expenses:
coveralls
$29
dog food ($20 x 5 dogs =)
$100
total:
$129
Sales (3 clients):
Tubbs
$50
Alex
$40 (4 weeks)
Flute
$50
total:
$140
Debit
Credit
income
$140
expenses
$129
total
$129
$140
net income:
$11
Total time to teach lessons
24 hours: 3 hours for every Saturday (5), Sunday (1), Wednesday (1), and Friday (1)
Salary:
$11.00 net income ÷ 24 hours = $0.46 per hour
Matt’s salary made him cringe. He should’ve charged more. But then would he have gotten any clients?
When he walked into math class, everyone came at him at once.
“We saw your dogs on TV!” Tammy said. “They’re so cute! I want to learn how. Can I take your lessons?”
“I want to take lessons too,” Destin said.
“Me too. I want to sign up,” Jen said, and she latched pinkies with Tammy as if they were doing it together.
Matt blinked. Jacob stood behind everyone and glared at Matt. “Watch out for Maniac Misco if you go over there,” Jacob said.
But no one was paying attention to him. They all wanted to learn how to mush. The school project was over, but now Matt had his pick of clients. He couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.
“Everyone, settle down,” Mr. Moffat said from his desk. “Come hand in your assignments and take a seat. We have guests today.”
That shut everyone up. Chairs screeched on the floor as the students found their desks. Who were the guests?
Twenty-One
An excited whisper spread across the room as two guys walked in wearing leather and carrying laptops.
“Today we have Mark and Steven from MotorHeads.”
A few cheers broke out around the room. Destin nudged Jacob teasingly.
“We started our business as a bike shop, repairing flat tires,” Steven began. Matt listened to Steven explain how MotorHeads had grown. Steven went through their business plan, starting with who they were, what their product was, who their competition was, and their original marketing plan. They answered all the questions on Mr. Moffat’s business plan list.
Matt glanced back at Mr. Moffat to see him busy marking papers. Matt gripped the side of his desk. What would Mr. Moffat say about his final assignment?
“Now comes the fun part: our finances.” Mark started up this part of their presentation on the Smart Board screen like Tammy. The first PowerPoint slide showed the services they had started with:
SERVICES:
flat tire
$7.50
brakes
$25.00
tune-ups
$65.00
They showed graphs and explained their profit and loss statements. They talked about the local university contract for bike rentals, which helped them generate income, and their bike and clothing sales once they’d expanded.
When Matt saw the photos of their storefront, the bikes, the workshop, and then the expanded motorcycle section, he finally understood why all this mattered. Their workshop, with all the tools hanging neatly, reminded him of their barn at home. This was real life.
He recalled Tubbs pointing out how Matt was good at cutting chicken into equal portions. How he could measure tug lines and calculate how much rope he’d need to cut. When it came to the dogs, Matt didn’t mind doing the math.
With all the sudden interest in dogsledding, he wondered if he could make a successful business like MotorHeads. If he could do it as an actual job, like Mark and Steven did. But Matt would need to know how much to charge, to increase his salary. He’d have to make calculations for the profit and loss statements. Matt sat back in his chair as a thought hit him.
He actually did need help in this class.
He needed someone to explain things more clearly. Not like Mr. Moffat, who didn’t have the time with all of the other students around. Not like Mrs. Wilson, who went too fast. But someone to show Matt how to use real-life math. And translate the totals to figure out the numbers on paper. Dividing a block of meat into twenty-two equal parts was easy. He just needed help with the book work.
How much more useful would the calculations be if he did go to the remedial class and then actually understood this stuff? Matt watched Mark and Steven hand out MotorHeads key chains and imagined how it would feel to be in math class without the dread.
At the end of class, Mr. Moffat told the students to come pick up their marked assignments. Matt was almost the last to his teacher’s desk.
“Mr. Misco, why didn’t you do this on a computer?”
“We don’t have one at home, sir.” Matt hardly ever used his lifestyle as an excuse and ducked his head to avoid meeting Mr. Moffat’s eyes.
“Yes, well . . . that’s what the computer lab is for. Next time ask me for help if you can’t get to a school computer.”
Matt opened his mouth to tell him that he did need help, but nothing came out. His heart pounded. His hands went clammy, and he suddenly felt as if he might throw up. Mr. Moffat handed him his assignment, and in a blink, Matt’s chance was gone.
He glanced at the paper and read “Good Effort” in red ink in the top right corner. And then he saw the mark.
One hundred percent.
Twenty-Two
Matt didn’t have much time.
“Haw,” he called to Foo and Grover as they approached the fork in the trail. Their ears swiveled back but they didn’t break stride. As usual, the dogs were being awesome.
Lily shrieked, as they skidded left around a poplar stand. At this speed they should make it to the mailbox in time to meet Mom. With five dogs in Matt’s team now, the new rule, he felt as if they could run effo
rtlessly right through to Canada.
Matt wanted to show her his project. No matter that he had had a little help from a crazy bus driver—he’d worked hard at his business. And now he wasn’t going to fail math class.
They passed the tall pine. Rounding the bend, they could see the road and the row of mailboxes, and Mom getting out of her car.
“Yip-yip-yip!” Matt called to the team. They broke into a lope. The sled slid down the hill and they made it to the mailboxes just as Mom found her key.
“Jumping crickets, you startled me!” She beamed at them as the dogs dived into a snowbank for a break. “Whatcha seen, jellybeans?”
Matt had never been so anxious for her to ask that.
“The letter A.” He smiled a bit smugly, adding, “For my math assignment.”
“Wonderful.” She wrapped Matt and Lily in a hug. “Let’s see who can make it home first,” she said.
And that was it. There was no difference in her reaction from when Matt normally got a C or worse. He tried not to let it bother him as he turned the dogs around to head back. But why wasn’t she prouder?
* * *
That night after story, Mom went into Matt’s room. “Great job keeping your work ethic throughout your whole project. You put a lot of effort into sharing your talents.”