Maxi's Secrets

by Lynn Plourde

  That left Rory, Maxi, and me. The wardens said they’d be back for us, but Rory said, “Don’t bother. We’re all set.”

  But as the wardens sped off, we realized we weren’t quite all set. Maxi was limping again. Maybe she’d twisted her ankle too going down the gully. We’d been so focused on Abby, we hadn’t noticed.

  “She’s riding with me, Minny.”

  “So that leaves me lost in the woods?”

  “Nah.”

  Rory sent a text on his phone, then said, “I’ll wait till your ride gets here.”

  Soon a snowmobile zoomed up, and for a second I thought Rory had a twin. But then the bulky driver lifted his helmet—Kevin Cole, my booster-seat buddy.

  “NOT him!” we shouted at the same time.

  “Shut up, both of you!” Rory put his pointing finger in my face. “I’m giving Maxi a ride. She’s hurt. You’re not. So you’re going with Kevin or walking.”

  I nodded.

  Then he raised that finger a couple of feet and put it in Kevin’s face. But before Rory could say anything, Kevin shoved Rory’s finger aside. “Your text said you needed a ride. Not this pipsqueak. I hate pipsqueaks.”

  Rory turned his pointing finger into a fist and held it an inch from Kevin’s nose. “I said ‘Shut up!’ And grow up! So Minny here’s a pipsqueak—get used to it. You can be ONE BIG JERK—I’m used to it.”

  I closed my eyes expecting fists to fly. Would they kill each other?

  But then I heard a snort and opened my eyes to see Rory had Kevin in a headlock and was giving him a noogie. And Kevin was snorting too.

  Woof! Woof! Maxi barked at them and jumped off Rory’s ATV. Her limp looked worse.

  I put both my fists up and said, “Let’s go or you’d better get used to these.”

  Rory nearly fell over laughing. He pushed my fists down, threw me other his shoulder, and put me on the back of Kevin’s snowmobile. Then he picked up Maxi and got on his ATV, holding her gently yet firmly as he zoomed away.

  Kevin grumbled. For a second, I thought about being a wise-mouth and saying something about him really being a Big Jerk. But instead I took a deep breath and waited. Kevin’s grumble turned into a sigh, then he pushed down his helmet, and we zoomed off after Rory.

  When we pulled into the Winslows’ backyard, everything was chaos.

  Dad was by the edge of the woods waiting. He grabbed me for a hug. “You’re okay,” he said, relieved. I knew I was okay so I pulled away.

  “How’s Abby? Maxi?” I asked.

  “Abby’s getting checked at the health clinic. Rory brought Maxi to our house. Mom’s warming her up, checking her over.”

  I looked at Dad, closer, trying to figure out his expression. Worry! I knew that feeling. So I leaned into him for a real hug this time.

  The rest of the world started to come into focus.

  People were yelling to me.

  “Timminy, you okay?”

  “Good news on Abby.”

  “Your dog’s a hero.”

  “You too, and Rory.”

  The Winslows’ backyard was filled with ATVs and snowmobiles, and kids I knew, ones I didn’t know, and grown-ups too. I think some of them belonged with the kids. And there were game wardens and sheriff’s deputies too.

  A reporter from the local paper was interviewing everyone about what had happened. Carver and Kassy, the student council prez, seemed to be answering most of the questions. When they brought the reporter toward me, I waved them off. “You’ve got this.” They both smiled, and Kassy didn’t even pat me on the head.

  Dad borrowed a bullhorn from one of the game wardens. “Everyone, on behalf of the Winslows, I’d like to thank all of you for coming out in big numbers in a big storm to help find Abby.”

  Everyone cheered.

  “And a special thanks to the sheriff’s department and game wardens.”

  Bigger cheers.

  “And our dog, Maxi, and my son, Timminy, and especially Rory.”

  The biggest cheers.

  Dad continued. “The storm is letting up. So if anyone is hungry, my wife has cooked up some vittles at our house next door and you’re all welcome.”

  Rory nudged me with his elbow. (How long had he been there?) “Vittles? What the heck are vittles?”

  “Food, Rory, food. And if you really want to know more, my dad can tell you what century the word vittles originated and what Old English or Latin word it derived from.”

  “Not interested.” Rory rolled his eyes. “Just wanna know if your mom is a better cook than Abby’s.”

  “I know it doesn’t look like I eat much,” I told him, “but I do. I stuff my face every day. My mom’s a good cook. So’s my dad.”

  And with that, Rory slapped Kevin on the back. “Race you to Mr. AP’s house.”

  Kevin looked at me, not sure if he was invited, not sure if he wanted to be.

  I shrugged and said, “My dad said everyone. Guess that includes Big Jerks.”

  Rory snorted. Kevin didn’t. But they both jumped on their machines, along with a bunch of other kids and grown-ups, and raced over to our house for vittles.

  I wondered two things …

  If Mom knew how many people Dad was inviting for vittles.

  And if there’d be a tiny bite of fudge left for Abby and me to share by the time this search party had searched out all the food at our house.

  • • •

  SECRET #42

  You may not have to look very far to find more than what you were searching for.

  CHAPTER 43

  OUR HOUSE HAD never had so many people in it. There was a giant heap of boots and shoes by the front door—everyone trying not to track in a mess. When I hung up my coat in the laundry room, I found an overflowing pile of coats, mittens, and gloves on top of our washer and dryer. I wasn’t sure how everyone would sort out this jumble when they left. Maybe it didn’t matter as long as everyone ended up with some winter gear.

  I squeezed past all the bodies and slaps on the back and the buzz of words:

  “Way to go.”

  “How was Abby when you found her?”

  “Nice of your folks.”

  “Where’s your hero dog?”

  My hero dog was next. But first—Mom.

  I knew she’d be in the middle of the kitchen chaos. I excused myself as I scrunched between bodies until I got to her. Her back was to me when I tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Mom.”

  “Timminy,” she squealed. She threw her arms around me and pulled me in tight. “Oh, Timminy.” Then she pulled back to look me over, to be sure I still had all my body parts. I knew what was next so I beat her to it and hugged her back even harder than she’d hugged me. I heard some awws but I didn’t mind. Mom needed that hug.

  “Eat, Timminy, eat. You must be starved. Let me fix you a plate.”

  “In a bit, Mom. Where’s Maxi? I want to check on her first.”

  “In your room where Rory carried her to keep her out of all this commotion.”

  “How’s she doing? Should we take her to the vet’s?”

  “Let’s watch her and let her get some rest. She’s only limping a little. We can take her in on Monday if we need to.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I will take that plate after all.”

  Mom smiled and passed me one ready on the counter—she had been filling plate after plate to hand to everyone—but she heaped even more on the one she gave me. I saw the food that she made, lasagna and biscuits, but there was lots more stuff too. For the first time, I realized not only had many helped with the search, but also many others had brought food.

  It was tricky balancing a plate and making my way through the crowd and up the stairs. Kevin was standing bodyguard, er … puppyguard outside my bedroom door. He stepped aside and opened the door since I was holding the heaping plate with both hands.

  He snorted and grabbed two biscuits off the top.

  When Kevin shut the door after me, I heard a cooing sound.

>   “Such a good puppy. Such a good Little Beast.”

  HACK-HACK! I cleared my throat. Rory was lying on my bed with Maxi, who was sound asleep.

  Rory jumped up. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “And for you,” I said, passing him the plate. “How’s she doing?”

  “Better, I think. Just needs some rest. She worked harder than the rest of us.”

  Rory took the plate I offered. “I already had one plate, but fresh air makes me hungry.”

  He started chowing down. “Wait!” I said. I reached up and grabbed the cheese chunks. “Those are for Maxi.”

  Rory opened the door and said, “Your mom is a good cook. I’m gonna go get dessert”—he stared at Kevin and finished—“before some pig eats it all.” The door slammed, and I heard giant stomps racing down the stairs and toward the kitchen.

  I lay down next to Maxi and held a cheese chunk up to her nose. She stirred, opened her eyes, gulped the cheese, then licked my hand. I was certain it wasn’t because of the leftover cheese smell on my fingers, but to show me I was still her favorite, no matter how much Rory cooed to her. I fed her more cheese, and after the last bite, she cut a cheese fart—her way of saying thanks.

  “You’re welcome, girl.”

  • • •

  Later that night, my dad and I went to check on Abby. She was lying on the couch with her leg propped up on a pillow and ice bags hugging her ankle. She had scratches on her face and hands. I hadn’t noticed those before.

  “How you feeling?” I asked her.

  “Sore and tired, but I’ll live.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said.

  Abby reached out and smacked me with the throw pillow she’d had on her lap. “Take that,” she said.

  “That’s all you’ve got to give?”

  She laughed. “It really is.” She pointed at her ankle. “I can’t kick you. And I lost my cane in the woods so I can’t even trip you.”

  “Uh-oh! I forgot about your cane. Rory and I can go look for it tomorrow.”

  “NO!” said my dad.

  “NO!” echoed Abby’s parents. “We’ll get her a new one.”

  I figured it was best to change the subject.

  “Here,” I said. “I saved you some fudge.” She opened her hand, took the fudge, and smelled it. “Mmmmm, one of my favorites, finger-lickin’ Butterfinger. Want half?” She broke it and held a piece out to me.

  “Snot me,” I said.

  She smacked me again with the pillow, then popped both chunks into her mouth. “Yum!”

  I was too tired to keep up our teasing, so I propped the pillow Abby had hit me with under my head and lay on the floor with my eyes closed as I listened to Abby and our dads do a play-by-play …

  Abby had heard the snow was coming in earlier. She thought she could still get in a short walk before it started even though I wasn’t back to join her. When it started snowing, she turned back. She also decided to call her parents since she didn’t want them to worry. But when she reached for her phone, it wasn’t there. She figured it must have fallen out of her pocket earlier when her hands had gotten cold and she’d pulled out her mittens. That’s when she panicked. The phone was expensive and with a new guide dog on the way, she didn’t want her parents to have to buy her a new phone—or worse, maybe they wouldn’t buy her one.

  So she got down on the ground, trying to retrace where she’d walked and find her phone. But crawling, instead of walking while trying to hang on to her cane, everything seemed all mixed up. She decided she should probably stay in one place until someone found her—she figured I’d put things together and realize where she was and come looking. But it was snowing harder and she got so cold standing still, she started walking again in what she hoped was the right direction.

  When she heard a snorting sound, she got scared. She knew it was an animal, a big animal, probably a moose. She heard a CRASH and thought the animal was running after her. So she ran in the opposite direction, tripped on a tree root, and tumbled into the gully. When she tried to stand, she realized she’d hurt her ankle. So she sat back and waited. Abby wasn’t sure how long she was there before she heard Maxi bark at the top of the gully and then scamper down to her. Abby said, “Timminy, you know the rest of the story.”

  But before I could say anything, Dad said, “But you don’t know what everyone else was doing to find you, Abby.” So he told us how the game wardens had a map of the area and had set up a grid search. They even had search dogs coming from Bangor.

  Abby said, “I only needed one search dog—Maxi. Wait! Why didn’t you bring her over with you, Timminy?”

  “She’s even more tired than we are, Abby. I’ll bring her over tomorrow.”

  “And maybe she can tell us her side of the story.” Abby laughed.

  “To be continued,” said Mrs. Winslow with a big yawn.

  We all yawned in agreement.

  • • •

  SECRET #43

  Life is one big story, with some chapters more exciting—and more scary—than others.

  CHAPTER 44

  ON SUNDAY, RORY came over to check on Maxi.

  “How’s my Little Beast doing?” he cooed at her.

  “Better. Limping less, but we’re going to take her to the vet’s tomorrow to get her checked,” I said.

  “Good.” He leaned down and rubbed his thumb along her snout.

  “Um, Rory, you do know Maxi is my dog—not yours?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “My mom was allergic to dogs so we never had one. And when she left, Dad said his workdays were too long for a dog to be home alone.”

  “Try getting on your knees and begging your dad,” I suggested. “It always works for me.”

  “Like this?” Rory dropped to his knees and snorted. “I’m still taller than you.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the big oaf.

  “Well, I better go check on Abby.” Rory stood up, stepped toward the door, then stopped. “Hey, it’s lunchtime. Does your mom have any of that lasagna left from yesterday?”

  I laughed. “Nope, some people had three or four helpings.”

  “So what’s she cooking today?”

  “It’s Sunday—it’s my dad’s day to cook.”

  Rory sighed. “Guess I’ll see what cans Abby’s mom is opening up.”

  “I’ll check to see if it’s okay if you stay for lunch.”

  “But your dad is cooking.”

  “Yeah, he’s a good cook.”

  I don’t think Rory believed me, but then he wolfed down three bowls of Dad’s beef stew.

  While he was scraping the bottom of his third bowl, I saw my mom mouth to my dad, Bye-bye, leftovers.

  Maybe she was getting revenge on Rory when she said, “All right, Timminy, it’s time for your parents’ Sunday newspaper interlude. You and Rory can clean up and do the dishes.”

  Rory jumped up and said, “We got this, Mrs. Harris,” as he started clearing the table.

  Before Mom and Dad disappeared into the den, I said, “Rory’s gonna go check on Abby afterward. Can I go with him?”

  Dad, forever the English major, said, “May you?”

  Mom rolled her eyes. “Yes, you can and may after you do the dishes and after you take Maxi out to do her business.”

  I looked at Rory. He nodded. Then I looked back at Mom and said, “We got this.”

  She playfully smacked me and then Rory with the rolled-up Sunday newspaper before disappearing into the den with Dad.

  “I’ll wash. You wipe,” said Rory.

  I laughed. “You big oaf, we just have to put stuff in the dishwasher and start it.”

  “Who you calling a big oaf?” Rory leaned down in my face.

  “I am! The Shrimp is calling you a Big Oaf.”

  Rory laughed. “Actually, I prefer Beast of the East, or Shrek.”

  “That all you got for names? You’ve lived a deprived life. I have a bunch … Tiny Tim, Peewee, Peanut, Wee-wee … for starters.”
/>
  “RHAAAAAH!” Rory started to stomp around the kitchen. “I am the Jolly Mean Giant.”

  “Out of my kitchen, Jolly Mean Giant and Peewee Harris!” said my mom as she appeared in the doorway.

  “Yes, ma’am”—Rory looked embarrassed—but as we headed out, he said, “Tiny Tim started it.” And we all couldn’t stop laughing.

  Outside, Maxi was still intrigued with the snow and kept tossing it with her snout, which amused Rory. He agreed her limp seemed better.

  “Rory, lucky for Abby you have your trail camera. Do you use it when you hunt?”

  “Hunt?” Rory asked.

  “Yeah, when you hunt.”

  “I don’t hunt.”

  I didn’t want to ruin Rory’s and my newfound we’ve-both-been-called-names camaraderie, but I couldn’t help myself. “You said you shot animals.”

  “What the heck are you talking about, Wee-wee?”

  I knew what I knew. “I was in your driveway once and I heard you say you had to check what you’d shot.”

  Rory leaned down and moved his face within inches of mine, “You been spying on me?”

  “No, I was trying to avoid you, Shrek. I was looking for Abby’s house when we first moved here, and I didn’t know where she lived. I went up your driveway by mistake—that’s when I heard you talk about what you’d shot.”

  Rory looked puzzled for a second, then snorted.

  “Let me in on the joke,” I said.

  “Shot animals with my trail cams to video them, to see them, not shot—bang-bang dead.”

  “But I thought lots of kids around here hunt.”

  “They do. Not me.”

  “You seem the type.”

  “I might have been,” said Rory. “But my dad almost lost his eye in a BB gun accident when he was a kid so he’s always had a no-hunting rule for him and me and my brother.”

  I shook my head. It’s amazing how much you don’t know about somebody you don’t know. I was past worrying about being too nosy so I asked Rory a bunch of questions. And found out Rory hadn’t seen his mom since she moved to Arizona three years ago, and he was saving money to buy more trail camcorders to study all the wildlife out in the woods. He already had three cams. Yesterday he had checked the two set up closest to the ponds first since water would have been the worst place for Abby to be lost. He was also saving money for a fancy camera with a zoom lens. He’d built tree stands to take photos of animals—he wanted to be a wildlife photographer.