by Lynn Plourde
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“What if she’s not ready to see you either, Timminy?”
“Then I’ll do the stay command and wait outside her house until she is.”
Dad drove straight to Devon’s house. I didn’t ask how he knew where she lived, but probably the assistant principal part of him had already paid a visit to make sure she was all right and to talk with her parents.
“Want me to come in with you?” asked Dad.
“No, I need to do this alone.”
I walked in slow motion to the front door, rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans, and knocked.
A woman who looked like Devon answered. “May I help you?” Her voice was soft and her eyes kind.
“I’m Timminy Harris. I need to talk to Devon.”
Her eyes widened, but still she reached out and shook my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Patrisse Willette, Devon’s mom. Let me tell Devon you’re here.”
I wiped my palms five more times before Mrs. Willette came back and said, “Follow me.”
She led me to the dining room, where Devon sat at the table drawing in a sketchbook. She closed it as I stepped closer.
I couldn’t wait a second longer. “I’m sorry, Devon. Really sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“I know,” she said, “Just like you didn’t mean to drop your tray on Mrs. Russell.”
What did that mean? I looked closer to try to read Devon’s expression.
But then her mom interrupted. “Do you two want something to eat or drink?”
Devon didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll have some peanut butter cookies and milk, but you can bring Timminy bread and water.”
I leaned closer still. Was she serious? Then I saw it. The twinkle, the mischievous twinkle in her eye, and I burst out laughing. “I didn’t expect that.”
Devon giggled. “Why not? You should know anyone who’s friends with Abby has to have a sense of humor.”
I wanted to agree and say that even someone who used to be friends with Abby had to have a sense of humor. But that would sound like I was whining, and I was so finished with whining.
I sat down, popped a cookie in my mouth, and said, “But seriously, Devon, did I hurt you?”
She pushed up her sleeve and showed me a black-and-blue-turned-greenish-yellow bruise on her arm.
“Ouch! Sorry!” I said.
“I’ve had worse. If you only knew how many times I’ve fallen over the years.”
“But still, I’m sorry. Plus I embarrassed you.”
Devon said, “The opposite actually. You knocked me over like a good strike in bowling. Then I scooted one way—those cafeteria floors are slick—and grabbed one crutch, scooted the other way and grabbed my other crutch. Before anyone could help me, I was standing back up, like a reset bowling pin. Everyone said how surprised they were I got up on my own—maybe they’ll stop babying me so much now.”
I downed another cookie and chugged some milk. “I didn’t see you get back up.”
“You couldn’t see anything, Timminy. Your anger was a blindfold.”
I swallowed hard remembering my anger.
I was still angry—but not at Devon—I knew she wasn’t the one who planted the booster seat. She really was okay and her mom wasn’t having me arrested, so I did the only logical thing … ate another cookie.
Since Devon was braver than I’d thought, I asked, “What’s in there?” as I pointed at her sketchbook.
Devon blushed. “I don’t show just anyone my drawings.”
“I’m not just anyone. I’m the guy who bowled you over.”
Devon smiled and said, “All right,” as she opened her book and then put both her hands over her face as she peeked at my reaction between her fingers.
I covered my face with my hands, too, before I shot milk snot out my nose or cookie slime out my mouth. I could hardly stop laughing.
“Man, Devon, these are great!”
“Really?”
“Really! REALLY!” I flipped through page after page, laughing so hard at Devon’s cartoon drawings … the booster seat bowling, her own milk snot, the dumped food on Mrs. Russell … and so many other scenes I hadn’t lived through, but they were all captured perfectly by Devon—the details, expressions, and speech bubbles of her own life’s comics.
Devon blushed and said, “Thanks.”
I clinked my milk glass with hers …
“A toast to you, Devon!”
• • •
SECRET #30
Everyone has hidden talents.
CHAPTER 31
IF DEVON COULD face middle school every day, I figured I could too. No more running away. Let the bullies do what they would.
I told my parents some of my new school rules. “When I go back Monday, I’m riding the bus instead of going with you, Dad. I’ll check with each of my teachers to make up what I’ve missed. Is there anyone else I need to apologize to besides Devon?”
My parents looked at each other, baffled.
So I said, “Talk about it, and let me know,” and went to my room.
I’d apologize to anyone Dad wanted me to, except Abby. I had thought she was a true friend. Everyone else could laugh about the booster seat, but not Abby. She knew better. It would be like me laughing at her because she’s blind. I’d been wrong about Abby. But now I knew the REAL ABBY.
On Monday morning, I had to flag down the bus, since the driver wasn’t used to stopping for me. I sat in the first open seat, in the fourth row. I didn’t realize all the elementary students sat up front.
Rory got on the bus right after me. As he walked by, to the back of the bus, I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He ignored me. As well as a couple of the loudmouth elementary kids.
“Bigfoot’s back!”
“Jolly Green Giant!”
“He’s not jolly—he’s crabby.”
I shook my head. Man, does bullying start as soon as babies learn to talk? I was surprised that all Rory did was let out a loud sigh.
But Rory’s friend Kevin didn’t ignore anyone. He swaggered onto the bus and when a kid said, “Another bigfoot,” Kevin said, “Shut up, squirt, or I’ll squish you.”
The bus driver shouted, “Sit down, Kevin, unless you want me to report you to the office again.”
Kevin said, “Go ahead.” Then he stopped in front of me and smirked—like I’d made his day by riding on the bus. Then he walked toward the back.
As the rest of the bus filled, I heard the buzz from the other middle schoolers.
“That’s him!”
“Booster-seat baby!”
“Smacked that poor girl with the crutches.”
“Who’s he think he is?”
“Bet his assistant principal daddy said, ‘Dat’s awwight, my witto boy.’”
I jerked my head around, ready to yell “Shut up.” They could pick on me, but leave my dad out of this. I saw Kevin in one backseat laughing and Rory in the other backseat staring straight ahead. That reminded me of my new plan—let the bullies do what they will. I wouldn’t talk.
I mostly kept my no-talk pledge the rest of the day except when I walked past Abby’s table in the cafeteria. Devon smiled at me, so I said hi.
She said, “Glad you’re back, Timminy.” Becca and Brian waved too. Abby scowled and said something under her breath, which made Mrs. Russell pat her on the hand.
I headed to my old “reading” table. The two guys looked up from their books, then went right back to reading. I could hear the buzz starting …
“He’s baaaack!”
“Wonder what he’ll throw today.”
“Get ready to duck.”
“Good thing pipsqueaks don’t have much strength.”
Since I wasn’t going to say anything, there was no reason to listen to them.
I stuck my nose in the book I’d brought. Abby might not be my friend anymore, but she did know books. I’d checked her list over the weekend and saw that I ha
d one of the books she recommended on my bookshelf, about a dog called Shiloh. I read half over the weekend and kept reading at lunch. Maxi wasn’t with me, but it was still nice having a fictional dog for company. Beagles are kind of cute, but nothing compared to a Pyr who is Pyr-fect. I smiled at my joke as I kept reading and rooting for Shiloh.
I was able to tune out all the talk around me that day, and the rest of the week too. That was my goal—to make all my time at school go by quickly—and then switch it so that all my time with Maxi went in slo-o-o-o-o-w mo-o-o-o-otion.
I’d found out what I had to make up in all my classes. So that’s what Maxi and I did every day after school—my homework and her homework. Sit, stay, down, come—she was getting trained. Shut up, don’t react to others, read—I was getting trained too.
• • •
SECRET #31
It’s never too late to learn new tricks.
CHAPTER 32
IT WAS SATURDAY, time for Maxi to learn new commands. Mom agreed I would be Maxi’s teacher at obedience class again.
We spent most of the class reviewing old lessons. Puppies need lots of repetition to learn—especially deaf puppies. Finally, the instructor showed us a new command: shake, for shaking paws.
The only thing I shook was my head as I looked the instructor right in the eye and said, “I’m not teaching Maxi shake. She’s a deaf dog. Shaking paws won’t keep her safe. It’s just a show-off trick.”
The instructor grinned and said in a low voice, “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense for Maxi, but most dog owners love the shake trick. Why don’t you two step over to the side and I’ll show you a different command.”
I led Maxi to the side where the instructor showed us the “leave it” command, which meant to leave something alone—like porcupines! I came up with a sign for the command—a karate-chop action with my hand moving between Maxi and whatever I wanted her to leave. We used a ball as the object for Maxi to leave, but whenever I put my hand between Maxi and the ball and did the “leave it” sign, she just licked my hand. It smelled like cheese. The instructor grinned and said, “Keep practicing.”
When Maxi and I jumped into the car and I told Mom I’d refused to teach Maxi the trick of the day, she stared at me in the rearview mirror and kicked up the volume on her voice. “But, Timminy, Maxi needs to learn everything she can. Your father and I feel it would be best if …”
Then she stopped, shook her head, and said, “You know what’s best for Maxi, so focus on what you think she needs to learn. Who am I to argue?”
I scrunched my eyebrows and gave her an are-you-sure? look back in the mirror. She laughed. “I know, you’re thinking someone kidnapped your bossy mother and left some wimp in her place. Don’t worry. I can still give orders if I need to. But on this, I trust you.”
“Really?”
“Really, Timminy.”
“Thanks, Mom. I won’t let you down.”
Mom’s eyes smiled in the mirror. “I know you won’t let me or Maxi down.”
• • •
When we got home, I got back to work teaching Maxi the leave-it command. We kept practicing and practicing. It was hard, but she was starting to understand, except I didn’t know what to do when she wasn’t looking at me. I needed her to learn to leave things she was going after if I wasn’t right next to her.
“How’s it going?” Dad asked when he came out to check on us.
I sighed. “She’s getting better when she’s looking at me and paying attention, but when she’s busy in her own puppy world, forget it. I may as well be giving commands to that rock over there.”
Dad smiled. “Maybe we can cast a spell on Maxi to make her look at you.”
“Dad! That’s it!” I gave him a hug.
He looked confused.
“Just stay with Maxi,” I said, adding the sign for stay, before racing upstairs to my computer.
I found the pages I’d bookmarked, printed them out, raced back downstairs, grabbed Mom by the hand, and said, “Come on! I’ve got something to show you and Dad.”
When we got outside, Maxi was sleeping and Dad was dozing in a lawn chair. I shook him. “Wake up, Dad. I figured out how we can get Maxi to look at us.”
My parents waited.
“A pager collar,” I said. “The collar goes on Maxi and then one of us holds the control switch to it. When we turn it on, her collar vibrates—it pages her—so she knows we’re talking to her. We train her to look at us, see our sign language command, and follow it. They cost around three hundred dollars, depending on the model you get.”
I held out the pages I’d printed. “Here are all the details.”
“Wow, you’ve done your research,” Mom said. “Timminy, order the best one for Maxi. And, Kenneth, cough up your credit card.” Dad rolled his eyes at Mom’s command. I grinned. It was nice to have the Boss back when she was rooting for me … and Maxi.
Dad and I placed the order. We were told to expect delivery within five to ten business days—that meant it could be here this coming week! Maxi yipped in her sleep—a yip of approval, I hoped.
As she slept, I did more research, since I was on a roll. Not pager collars—we had that figured out. But MIRA, the organization for the blind that gave younger kids guide dogs. I knew Abby and I might never be friends again, but she still should know about MIRA. I wasn’t going to tell her face-to-face as I’d originally planned so I could see one of her whole-face-lights-up smiles. Nope, I didn’t care if I ever saw Abby smile again. I’d seen her scowl—the real Abby. But keeping what I’d learned from her would be cruel, and I refused to be cruel like some other people I knew. So I sent her an email with links to what I’d discovered.
Not that I was checking, but whenever I went online the rest of the weekend, I saw there was no reply from Abby. Not even a simple thanks.
• • •
SECRET #32
You don’t need a thanks to know you’ve done the right thing.
CHAPTER 33
AFTER SURVIVING LAST week at school, I relaxed a little. It was still my least favorite place to be, but I’d figured I could get through each day till it was time to get home to Maxi. And that’s all that mattered.
My lunch survival plan stayed the same. Eat, read, ignore.
I was already on my third book from Abby’s list after visiting the school library. Shiloh went back on my shelf, Winn-Dixie had been a winner, and now Marley was the best worst dog I’d ever met. He made Maxi look like a saint. I was trying to eat a taco one-handed at the same time I was turning the pages and trying not to laugh out loud at Marley’s thunderstorm-wreck-the-house panic attacks when I heard a clicking sound that was too quiet and rhythmic for the thunder sound effects playing out in my head.
I looked up. Click-click—Devon’s crutches. Next to her was Abby being led by Brian, then Becca, everyone, except for Mrs. Russell. I turned and saw Mrs. Russell standing at their usual table with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
“Mind if we join you?” Devon asked as she stood directly behind me.
I didn’t answer.
“Join who?” asked Abby. “You guys said our table was taken today. Whose table is this?”
I still didn’t answer, but someone else did.
“Hurry up and sit down. Can’t you see we’re trying to read?” said the redhead boy at my table. It’s the first time I’d ever heard his voice.
Abby looked confused, but sat in an empty seat where Brian had led her, and Becca sat down too, but Devon still stood directly behind me. My instincts were to bolt. But if I did, I’d knock Devon over. Even I wouldn’t do that again.
I went back to my book and tried to ignore them.
But I should have known the word read would get Abby talking. “So who are you and what are you reading?”
“I’m Carver, and I’m reading The Westing Game,” said the redhead.
“And I’m Benjamin, reading Hoot,” said the other one.
They both loo
ked at me. When I didn’t say anything, Benjamin said, “And that’s Timminy Harris.”
Carver added, “And he’s reading Marley & Me.”
“WHAT?!” Abby and I shouted at the same time.
“Keep it down,” warned the teacher on duty as she walked by.
“How’d you know who I was?” I whisper-shouted at the two reading nerds.
“Everyone knows who you are,” said Carver.
Of course, even their stacks of books weren’t big enough barriers to barricade them from me and my booster-seat tirade. Poor guys. They’d been stuck at the same table with the wild, crazy, short kid.
“I’m not sitting at the same table with him,” Abby whisper-shouted as she stood up.
Click-click. Devon moved behind Abby and said, “Oh yes, you are.”
“No way,” said Abby. “Timminy hurt you. I can’t forgive him.”
“He didn’t mean to,” said Devon. “He’s already apologized, and I’ve forgiven him, so get over it, Abby.”
Devon wasn’t behind me anymore, so I stood up. “Good try, Devon. But I’m the one who’s never forgiving Abby.”
Click-click. Devon started moving back toward me, but then she stopped and shout-shouted, “STOP IT, BOTH OF YOU! OR I’LL HIT YOU WITH MY CRUTCHES, AND DON’T THINK I WON’T!”
“Sit, Devon!” Abby and I both whisper-shouted before Devon realized what she’d done and died of embarrassment.
Devon sat.
Brian started, “The booster seat—we didn’t know—”
“Oh, you knew all right,” I interrupted. “When I got to the table you were all grinning at how funny you thought you were. I know what I saw.”
“Wait!” Devon gasped. “You thought we put the booster seat there?”
Becca jumped in, “The booster seat was already there when we sat down, in the place you’d sat the day before. We thought it was you who’d put it there. As a joke. And to be honest, we thought it was funny.”
I shook my head. “That’s crazy. Why would I bring a booster seat to lunch?”
“AS A JOKE!” Devon said. She was really getting into this shouting.
“Why would I joke about being short?” I wasn’t buying their crazy explanation.