Dog Day Afterschool

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Dog Day Afterschool Page 8

by Tommy Greenwald


  All heads turned toward her. “A petition?” I asked.

  “Yup,” she said. “Isn’t that something they can try, Mayor Murpt?”

  The mayor froze for a second, then smiled brightly. “Well, technically it is true that you could bring a petition to the next Zoning Board meeting and the committee will discuss it. But they very rarely overturn this kind of thing.”

  I yanked Abby’s leash tight so she wouldn’t try any funny business. “But it’s something we can try? I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?”

  The mayor looked at the lady with red hair, then down at me. “Yes, of course.”

  Mr. Miranda nodded. “I’m sure the public would be very impressed with such civic-minded youngsters, taking action after getting valuable advice from the mayor.”

  As the cameras kept clicking away, Baxter elbowed me in the ribs. “This is so cool,” he said. “We’re gonna be famous!”

  I looked at the mayor. “Thanks,” I said. “For changing your mind about helping us.”

  “She’s a politician,” said the red-haired lady. “They change their minds all the time.”

  AS SOON AS I got home, my mom announced that we were going to the farmer’s market. “They’re just starting summer Mondays!” she said happily.

  “But I have a lot of other stuff I have to do,” I complained, thinking about the petition for Shep’s shelter that I wanted to start.

  My mom frowned. “This is one of the things we always do together,” she said, and I immediately felt bad. She works really hard, and I know it makes her sad sometimes that she doesn’t get to spend more time with me.

  “Okay, Mom,” I said.

  “Plus, you can visit Isaac,” she said, knowing that would perk me up. Isaac’s chocolate chip cookies were the best I’d ever tasted.

  As we pulled out of the driveway, I saw Abby glaring across the street, toward Daisy’s house. Purrkins was at the window, glaring back. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

  “Seriously, you two?” I said. “Are you guys ever going to get over it?” Abby glanced over at me, then went back to her staring contest. She kept at it until we were at least three streets away.

  On the way to the market, I told my mom about going to the mayor’s office and how I was going to start a petition to try and stop the sale of the shelter. She looked a little shocked.

  “You actually went down to the mayor’s office? By yourself?”

  “Well, with Baxter, my fellow CrimeBiter,” I said, hoping to get a few extra brownie points for the gang, which might come in handy later.

  “Wow. That’s impressive. But I kind of wish you’d told me and your dad beforehand.”

  “Why?”

  She glanced over at me from behind the wheel. “Because.”

  “Because is not a complete sentence.”

  “Watch it, wise guy.”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Abby’s snout getting smacked around by the wind.

  FACT: There are very few things dogs like more than sticking their head out the window of a moving car.

  When we turned into the market, Abby knew exactly where we were and proceeded to yowl with excitement.

  FACT: I’m not sure yowl is a word, but if it isn’t, it should be.

  As soon as we piled out of the car, my mom went one way and Abby and I went another—straight toward Isaac’s cookie stand.

  “My friends!” he cried, standing there surrounded by delicious-looking baked goods of all shapes and sizes—cookies, cakes, muffins, and some other weird half-cookie-half-muffin things called scones. The smell was overpoweringly perfect.

  “Hey, Isaac,” I said, but he wasn’t paying attention to me. He was down on one knee, scratching Abby’s right ear. Abby was making a happy noise. I think Isaac was too.

  PROFILE

  Name: Isaac Baker (okay, fine, I made the last name up)

  Age: Old enough to know how to create the perfect cookie

  Occupation: Cookie maker

  Interests: Combining chocolate, butter, sugar, and flour into bite-size pieces of heaven

  “My mom said I could get a dozen cookies,” I told Isaac, and he stretched himself back up to his very large height and pulled a paper bag from beneath his table.

  “All chocolate chip?”

  “All chocolate chip.”

  As I waited, another shopper wandered over to Isaac’s cookie stand. After a minute though, it felt like she was inspecting me just as much as the yummy treats. Abby noticed her staring at me too, and gave out a tiny little growl.

  Finally, the woman stepped forward and said, “Do I know you?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  But she kept staring. Then she slapped her hand on her forehead and said, “Of course! You’re one of the kids from the picture.”

  By now Isaac was listening too. “What picture?” he said.

  The woman took out her phone and punched a few buttons. “Here, look,” she said, handing me the phone. On the homepage of a website called QuietvilleToday.com there was a picture of me, Abby, and Baxter with Mayor Murpt.

  The caption said: COMMUNITY KIDS TAKE ACTION! Then underneath it said: Two young Quietville students visit Mayor Murpt, asking for advice on civic affairs. “It’s so gratifying to see these youngsters participating in local government,” said the mayor. “We can all learn from their sense of responsibility, no matter how old we are!”

  “You’re famous!” said the lady. “And good for you, young man. Your parents must be very proud.”

  “Thanks, I hope so,” I said, handing the phone back to her. “I was there trying to save the animal shelter. I wonder why the mayor left that part out.”

  “Wow,” said Isaac. “Very cool, Jimmy.”

  “We’re going to start a petition,” I told him. “If we get enough names, we can take it to the Zoning Board and see if they’ll stop the sale.”

  Isaac grinned. “Well, you know the best way to get someone to sign a petition, right?” He picked up a box of his cookies. “Baked goods, my friend. Baked goods.”

  Abby started barking in agreement—or maybe because she just wanted a cookie.

  “You mean, give people a free cookie?” I asked.

  “Let’s not get crazy,” Isaac said. “Almost free. Have a bake sale with nice, low prices, then while they’re shopping, hit them with the petition.” He grinned. “People will sign anything after a good cookie.”

  “What are you two talking about?” said my mom, who had just walked up with two bags full of vegetables. (So, so wrong.)

  “I’m teaching your son to embrace his inner activist,” Isaac said. “Step one: how to get what you want.”

  “Oh boy,” my mom said, rolling her eyes. “Please don’t give him any crazy ideas.”

  “It’s all good!” Isaac picked up a cookie from the table. “Here, Sarah, try one of today’s specials: a coconut chocolate chip peanut butter muffin top.”

  As soon as Mom bit into the treat, all was forgiven.

  THE NEXT DAY was one of the last tutoring sessions for Baxter before our math final, and we were all supposed to meet at Daisy’s house. The first thing I saw when I walked across the street was Purrkins snoozing by the front door. I bent down and scratched her belly.

  “Hey, Purrky,” I said. “That’s going to be my nickname for you, okay? Purrky.”

  Purrkins purred happily.

  “So, are you and Abby ever going to become friends?” I asked her.

  I scratched her for a few more seconds, then went into the house, where Baxter was sitting at the kitchen table being drilled by Irwin.

  “How many degrees in a right angle?”

  “Ninety.”

  “How many sides to an octagon?”

  “Eight.”

  “What’s your favorite flavor ice cream?”

  “Not funny, Irwin.”

  Irwin threw up his hands. “I can’t think of any more questions!” he said. “I think
you’re ready! You got this!”

  Baxter looked shocked. “You really think so?”

  “Yup.” Irwin noticed me, which gave him the opening he needed. “You’re going to get a better grade on this test than Jimmy, that’s for sure.”

  Before I had a chance to insult him back, Daisy came into the room. She had a laptop computer in her hand, and she didn’t look happy.

  “Look what my mom showed me when I got home from school today,” she said, getting right to the point. “You and Baxter went to talk to the mayor? Without us?”

  Uh-oh.

  Irwin looked confused. “Huh?”

  Daisy took the computer over to Irwin and showed him the picture, and his eyes went wide. He got up and started pacing around the kitchen. “Are you kidding me? Is this about trying to save the shelter? What happened to the four of us doing things together?”

  “I asked Baxter, and he said he asked you about inviting us,” Daisy said, “but you said no.”

  I glared at Baxter. He looked at me like, What could I do? She’s a girl.

  “Irwin, you always hate all my ideas!” I said. “And Daisy, you agreed with him, and said there wasn’t anything anyone could do! So I just figured, what the heck.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You didn’t even tell us about this at school today. Chicken.”

  I had no response to that, because she was absolutely right.

  Irwin sat down in a huff. “So, now you guys get to be the famous heroes, and get your picture taken with the mayor, and we’re supposed to, what, just be your background singers?”

  “Background singers?” Baxter mumbled to himself, thoroughly confused.

  “I said I’m sorry,” I said. “But can we not argue about this now? We’re having a bake sale, so we can gather enough signatures on a petition to ask the town to save the shelter. I would really love it if we could all do it together.”

  Irwin shook his head. “I doubt it. I have to study.” That was ridiculous; ever since I’d known him, he’d been a straight-A student without even trying.

  “Believe it or not, Jimmy, I do want to help,” Daisy said. “Because I adopted a pet from Shep, just like you.” My heart soared, but she sent it crashing back down to earth with her next sentence. “So I would consider participating in the bake sale, but only if I get to bring Purrkins.”

  I threw my hands up. “I thought you said she never leaves the house!”

  “We would make an exception for this,” Daisy said.

  Here we go again.

  I started playing with the laces on my sneakers, in order to avoid looking at her. “Are you serious? You know that Purrkins and Abby don’t really like each other, right? No one will stop and talk to us—no matter how good the cookies are—if we have two animals snarling at each other the whole time.”

  “Well, it’s up to you,” she said. “If you want my help, we’re going to have to figure this thing out.”

  “I agree with Daisy,” Irwin said, completely unsurprisingly.

  FACT: The last time Irwin took my side in an argument with Daisy was … wait, let me think … NEVER.

  “Whatever,” I said. “Then I’ll do it without you guys.”

  “You can invite your new best friend, the mayor,” Irwin said. “And let us know how it all works out.”

  “When you go to college,” I asked Irwin, “are you going to major in being annoying?”

  “Can you guys knock it off?” Baxter said, finally. “The test is coming up and the last thing I need is to listen to everyone fighting all the time.”

  “You’re totally right, Baxter,” I said. “Which is why I’m leaving.”

  “Fine,” Irwin said. “But don’t come running to us when you don’t get enough signatures on your stupid petition!”

  I started to leave, then turned back.

  “Good luck on the test, Baxter.”

  I think he said “Thanks,” but I couldn’t be sure, because I was already in the front yard, heading home.

  GUESS WHAT?

  It turns out Mr. Klondike is a dog lover.

  I found that out in school the next day, when he came up to me at lunch and said, “I was very pleased to see the picture of you and Baxter with the mayor.”

  I put my sandwich down and stared up at him. “You were?”

  “I was. I wish more of our students would follow your example and become involved with local government.”

  I looked across the cafeteria, where Daisy and Irwin were sitting with Daisy’s friend Mara. I wasn’t sure where Baxter was.

  Mr. Klondike sat down next to me, which I think might have been the first time he ever sat with any student in the cafeteria. Other kids pretended not to stare, but that just made it more obvious that they were. “May I ask what it was you were discussing with the mayor?”

  I felt like I was under a microscope. I was still getting over the fact that the other kids thought I was a tattletale; I didn’t really need them thinking I was a teacher’s pet too. Or even worse, a vice-principal’s pet.

  “I want to try and save the animal shelter downtown,” I told Mr. Klondike. “I was asking if she could help.”

  He smiled, which didn’t happen very often. “Well, that’s terrific.” Then he took out his phone. “I want to show you something,” he said, scrolling through his pictures until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here we go,” he said, handing the phone to me. I looked—there was a picture of a dog with only three legs. “This is Alvin. I got him at the shelter near where I used to teach. They told me he’d been found in a dumpster, looking for scraps. His leg had been mangled in some kind of accident, so we had to have it amputated. But we’ve had Alvin for almost nine years now, and he’s a great dog. Kermit loves him to death, don’t you, son?”

  I looked up and saw Kermit standing over us. I hadn’t even noticed him walk up. “Yup,” Kermit said, looking at the floor.

  “Hey, Kermit,” I said. “I’m having a bake sale on Saturday, where I’m going to start a petition to save the animal shelter downtown. Do you want to come?”

  Kermit blinked in surprise. “You want my help?”

  “Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

  “Um, okay, maybe,” Kermit said, shuffling his feet. “What do I have to do?”

  “Get signatures, and sell cookies.” I grinned. “Maybe eat a few too.”

  “I can probably do that.”

  Mr. Klondike got up. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” he said. “I will make an announcement about your bake sale tomorrow, and if you make flyers, the school can pass them out for the students to take home. I think we can help you get a good turnout.”

  He started to walk away, but I tapped him on the arm, and he turned back. “Yes, Mr. Bishop?”

  “I—I just wanted to say again to you and Kermit that I’m really sorry about what happened last week. I made a bad mistake.”

  “I understand,” Mr. Klondike said.

  But I wasn’t finished. “Not just about Kermit though.” I hesitated. “About you too.”

  He frowned. “How so?”

  “I was always scared of you,” I told him. “But now—I think I’m not scared anymore.”

  Mr. Klondike smiled. “People can surprise you sometimes. You just have to give them a chance. Isn’t that right, Kermit?”

  Kermit nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “I can’t wait to meet Alvin,” I said to Kermit. “Can you bring him to the bake sale?”

  “I guess,” he said. “He loves cookies.”

  “So does Abby,” I told him.

  Kermit smiled a little.

  And just like that, things felt different.

  It’s not like we were suddenly best friends or anything.

  But it was a start.

  YOU KNOW WHAT the good thing about a bake sale is? It makes everything smell like cookies.

  “Isaac, you’ve outdone yourself,” said my dad, as we all stood in front of the Quietville town green. “These cookies
are magnificent.”

  “Thanks, chief,” Isaac said. He called most adult males “chief.”

  I looked around at all the people who came to help: Baxter, my parents, my sister, Chad Knight, a few of the guys from the lacrosse team. Shep had brought Kelsey, who was also busy sampling Isaac’s treats.

  “Your mum is right,” she said. “These are gorgeous.”

  “Who calls food gorgeous?” I asked.

  Kelsey licked her fingers. “Civilized people, that’s who.”

  Shep came over, popped a cookie in his mouth, then gave me a big hug. “Jimmy, this is radical!”

  “It’s what?”

  “Radical!” He waved his arms in a big circle. “You’re, like, an inspiration, dude. You’re taking on big business, fighting back through peaceful protest. It didn’t even occur to me to do this, but you …” His face got very serious all of a sudden. “You’re taking on the MAN. And you’re a KID.” He almost looked like he was going to cry for a second. “I’m sorry, but that’s intense, dude.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not really knowing what he was talking about. “I just want to help the animals.”

  “Radical,” Shep repeated. Then he walked away, smiling and shaking his head.

  I turned and was semishocked to see Kermit Klondike walking up, just like he said he would, carrying a big Tupperware container in one hand and Alvin’s leash in the other.

  “Wow, you really came.” I looked down at Alvin, who was pretty tiny. “Hey there, little guy. Boy, are you cute!”

  “Did you bring Abby?” Kermit asked.

  I shook my head. “Nah, not today. Too much to do, and she can be pretty, uh, distracting sometimes.”

  He held out the container. “Applesauce muffins. My dad made them.”

  Whoa. It was hard enough getting used to the fact that Mr. Klondike was actually a nice person who loved dogs. But a baker of muffins? That was almost too much to handle.

  “Great!” I said. “It would be awesome if you could just put them over there next to Isaac’s brownie marshmallow surprise.”

  Mayor Murpt surprised us by coming down to the bake sale, and she brought Eric Miranda with her (I think she brought him everywhere). She also brought a camera crew and a big sign that said RE-ELECT RHONDA!

 

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