Roxbury Park Dog Club #5
Page 11
“Did you guys get that email from Alice last night?” Kim asked. “The one with a picture of Coco in her new home?” The big black and brown dog had been one of our earliest club members and I was sad to see her go, but the picture last night had definitely showed us all how happy she was.
“She’s living the doggy dream,” Taylor said, making us laugh. Coco’s owner had moved to a big farm in Pennsylvania, with acres of land to run on and lots of ducks and squirrels to chase. It really was the doggy dream and I was happy Coco got to live it.
“We have to figure out how many new dogs we can take into the club now that Coco’s gone,” Kim said as the four of us walked toward the door.
The club had been a huge success, especially after we’d been featured in the local newspaper with pictures taken by Taylor. Now we had a wait list and Alice had been able to start up a new venture, a foster program for dogs. We were all huge fans of that project, but it definitely kept Alice busy.
“How many club dogs are there now?” Taylor asked as we walked down the front path of the school. Kids milled around us and a football whizzed past between a pair of eighth graders.
“Popsicle, Jinx, Waffles, Missy, Hattie, and Humphrey,” Bri said as she ticked off on her fingers. Sometimes it still surprised me that Bri was a club member. Not so long ago she’d been mean to Taylor, jealous that Taylor had been the new girl but fit in so seamlessly. To make matters worse, Bri’s mom, who owned a fancy doggy day care, had tried to take our club down. For a while their aggressive advertising plan had worked, but in the end we all realized that there was room in town for two dog care centers. At the same time Bri realized that Taylor was awesome while Taylor, with her big heart, realized Bri just needed friends. Bri began hanging out at the shelter and loved it so much that we asked her to join the club. “Plus Daisy and Gus—and of course Mr. S and Lily.” She shot me a grin when she said the last two names and I grinned right back. Bri and I had both adopted shelter dogs, and they loved going back to visit their pals.
My parents got divorced when I was little, so it was just me and my mom, which could get a little lonely. Bringing Mr. S home had totally fixed that, and I adored my snuggly Cavachon with all my heart. Lately he’d been taking up a lot more of my time though. Mr. S was an older dog and as a result needed to go out more often. Of course I always took him—I needed my sweet pup comfortable, and my mom, who was a bit of a neat freak, did not want an accident in the house. But with everything else I had going on, the extra walks were tough.
“That’s ten club dogs,” Kim said. The brisk wind whipping the fall leaves off the trees had turned her cheeks pink. Winter was not far off and I was glad I’d worn my thick green fleece. I didn’t want my muscles to get cold on the walk over to dance rehearsal. My mom used to drive me, but she was extra busy at work right now and it really wasn’t a long walk to the studio.
“I think we could take in two more dogs since there are four of us plus Tim and Caley,” Kim continued. Tim and Caley were high schoolers who volunteered at the shelter with us. At first it had been a little intimidating to work with older kids, but now we were all really comfortable together. “And that would bring our total to twelve club dogs.”
“That sounds good,” Taylor said, smoothing down her braids. Despite her efforts, the beads at the ends were clinking musically in the wind.
“So you’ll call the next people on the wait list?” Bri said to me in her direct way. Even though she worked hard to control her temper, there were still times when she was blunt in a way that could sting. I knew this wasn’t one of those times: handling new clients was part of my job at the club, so of course she’d ask me about it. But it still made my stomach tighten up because I really did not have time to call anyone, let alone a family from the wait list who would have a ton of questions and take ages to schedule for their trial visit.
“I’ll try to get to it tonight if I have time,” I said, absently twisting a curl around my fingers. Bri and I were both wearing our long hair in ponytails but mine was sloppy, with curls leaking out, while Bri’s straight black hair was sleek, with a few carefully curled strands framing her face. She was twisting the jade charm she always wore on a red string around her neck—Bri was Chinese American and she had told us that the pendant was for good luck.
“We’re all going to be pretty pressed for time with that report we have to do for social studies,” Kim said with a sigh as we waited for a car to pass before crossing Market Street. Kim struggled in school and recently her parents had considered sending her to private school. Eventually they’d agreed to let her stay with us at Roxbury Park Middle School but it was on the condition that she keep her grades up. Tutoring sessions with Taylor’s math genius older sister, Anna, helped a lot, but Kim still got anxious, especially when we had big assignments. And the cultural essays that Mr. Martin had announced today were definitely intimidating. That was a big reason I was so stressed, too—I had no extra time, so how was I supposed to write ten pages about Mongolia, a country I knew nothing about?
“I wish he’d let us choose the place we were studying,” Taylor said. “I’d rather learn about Egypt or France than Iceland.”
“I think Iceland is partly covered by glaciers,” Bri said. She’d lucked out with Italy. She could write about yummy food and the painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and she’d be done in no time, unlike the rest of us. “That could be cool to write about.”
“I need to find something interesting like that about Tanzania,” Kim said. Her cheeks were now pale, a sure sign she was feeling anxious.
“I think they have lions there,” I said, remembering something my mom had said about endangered species. She had started an environmental law firm where Taylor’s dad worked too and she liked talking about her cases. “You could write about that.”
“Lions are definitely cool,” she said thoughtfully. “Okay, maybe this report won’t be so bad.”
If only there were lions in Mongolia.
“Yeah, I don’t think it will be that big a deal,” Bri agreed. “And Sasha, I don’t think calling families on the wait list will take that long. We don’t want people waiting forever and not hearing from us.”
I felt a slight flash of irritation at her pushiness. That was total Bri, of course, and I liked it when she was pushing to help the dogs or telling an eighth grader to give us space in the hall. But it wasn’t so great when it felt like she was nagging me.
“We know you’re busy practicing for your performance though,” Kim said, smiling at me and cheering me right up. Dogs and dance were my two favorite things and when I wasn’t at our club, I was at the dance studio, where I took three classes a week as a member of the junior company. Our first big recital was coming up in a few weeks, so I was extra busy with rehearsals, especially since I had a solo in our jazz number.
“We’ll be in the front row,” Taylor promised. “I can’t wait to see you do your thing.”
It was funny to think that Taylor had only moved here from North Carolina this summer since it felt like I’d known her forever. Kim had been coming to my shows for years and always brought me a bouquet of pink roses, my favorite. But this would be the first time Taylor and Bri would be there and I was excited. And a little nervous—I had a lot of work to do if I wanted to be ready. “I’m glad you guys will be there,” I said. “But it is going to keep me pretty busy.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. I can’t wait to see you perform either,” Bri said immediately, the warmth in her voice wiping away the last traces of the annoyance I had felt.
“Do you get to wear a really cool costume?” she went on.
And her words made me realize something that froze me in my tracks, like my shoes were suddenly glued to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Kim asked, seeing the expression on my face.
“I forgot my dance bag at school,” I gasped. I could picture exactly where it was, on the hook at the back of my locker. I’d planned to grab it last, but th
en I’d gotten distracted debating whether I needed to bring home my science binder and now, instead of hanging from my shoulder, it was still dangling in my empty locker.
“Can you dance without your stuff?” Taylor asked, her brown eyes full of concern.
“No,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I have to go back for it. I’ll see you guys later.”
My friends called good-bye as I took off running back toward school. But I knew no matter how fast I went I was going to be late for class and Madame Florence, my dance teacher, was not going to be pleased at all.
It was not a good start to the afternoon!
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About the Author
DAPHNE MAPLE grew up in a small town in upstate New York in a big house that was always full of dogs. She and her friends would spend long afternoons playing with their dogs in the backyard, and that, along with her work at an animal sanctuary, gave her the idea for Roxbury Park Dog Club. She lives and writes in Washington, DC, with her dogs, Sweetie Pie and Trixie, and on sunny afternoons you can usually find them playing Frisbee at the local dog park.
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Books by Daphne Maple
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When the Going Gets Ruff
Top Dog
All Paws on Deck
A New Leash on Life
Credits
Cover art © 2017 by Annabelle Metayer
Cover design by Jenna Stempel
Copyright
ROXBURY PARK DOG CLUB #5: A NEW LEASH ON LIFE. Text by Daphne Maple, copyright © 2017 by HarperCollins Publishers. Illustrations © 2017 by Annabelle Metayer. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2016938992
ISBN 978-0-06-237100-3 (pbk.)
EPub Edition © November 2016 ISBN 9780062371010
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