by Daphne Maple
Dedication
To Judy
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Excerpt from Roxbury Park Dog Club #2: When the Going Gets Ruff
Back Ad
About the Author
Books by Daphne Maple
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
“Ready to walk, Humphrey?” I asked, bending down and petting the small basset hound’s silky ears. He butted his head against me and then collapsed on his side with a sigh, as though the effort had exhausted him.
Mrs. Cronin, Humphrey’s owner, laughed. “That’s our lazy boy,” she said affectionately. Then she smiled at me, her eyes warm. “I still don’t know how you manage to get him to walk every day.”
“I guess we just understand each other, don’t we, Humphrey?” I bent down for one more ear rub. People asked me about this a lot and I was never sure how to explain it. It was like I just knew what dogs needed. I could understand their body language and the sounds they made without having to think about it. My older brother, Matt, called me the dog whisperer and maybe that was the best way to say it. I wasn’t sure; all I knew for certain was that I loved dogs.
“Well, whatever magic you work, we certainly appreciate it,” Mrs. Cronin said, smoothing the sleek skirt she was wearing for her day working at the Roxbury Park Bank. Her husband was a contractor who worked even longer hours than she did, so neither of them had time to coax a reluctant basset hound on his daily morning walk. “And so does Humphrey. We were making him crazy with all that leash pulling.”
I nodded. Basset hounds were famously lazy but Humphrey was an extreme case. For weeks I watched the Cronins do everything they could to persuade Humphrey down the street for a walk. But Humphrey wasn’t having any of it. Finally one day I went over to help. I brought a handful of dog treats and made sure to hold the leash very firmly, to let Humphrey know who was in charge. I kept up a steady conversation as we walked, rewarding Humphrey every half block, so he’d know what a good job he was doing. Soon he was prancing through the neighborhood, tail wagging and head held high. I tried to teach the Cronins how I did it but Humphrey never responded to them the way he responded to me. So a few weeks ago Mrs. Cronin had hired me to walk Humphrey and everyone was happy. Especially me. Ever since my Labradoodle, Sammy, died last year and my parents decided they were too busy for another dog, I’ve been longing for more puppy time. Now, thanks to Humphrey and the plans I had that afternoon, I was finally getting it.
“Today is the first day of seventh grade, isn’t it?” Mrs. Cronin asked, walking me and Humphrey to the end of the driveway.
“Yes,” I said, trying not to wrinkle my nose at the thought. That was the part of the day I was not so excited about. In most towns middle school started in sixth grade but in Roxbury Park it was seventh, so I was going to be starting at a whole new school.
“Well, good luck,” Mrs. Cronin said.
“Thanks.” I appreciated how she totally got that you needed luck when it came to something like starting middle school. Especially for me. I worked hard at all my classes but it always seemed like I was just a little behind everyone else.
I waved as Mrs. Cronin headed back into her pretty Victorian house and then I gave Humphrey’s leash a gentle tug. The dog, who was sniffing the rosebushes lining the front of the yard, began walking on his short little legs as we made our way down Spring Street.
“Guess what I’m doing this afternoon?” I said in the low tone that Humphrey responded to. Sure enough he cocked his head as though waiting to hear my plans. Some people might think it’s crazy to talk to a dog but animals actually respond to our voices. Plus they are excellent listeners. “I’m going to start volunteering at the Roxbury Park Dog Shelter.”
Humphrey bobbed his head, reacting to the enthusiasm in my voice.
“I guess it’s the one good thing about seventh grade,” I said as we turned down Montgomery Street, heading toward Roxbury Park’s small downtown. It was a perfect end-of-summer day: the smell of fresh-cut grass perfumed the air and the sun was warm on my shoulders. “Everyone has to do some kind of volunteer work after school, and Sasha and I signed up for the shelter. I’ve loved that place ever since we adopted Sammy there ages ago.”
Humphrey stopped to sniff a puddle from last night’s rain. “I’m not exactly sure what we’ll be doing, but I can’t wait to meet the dogs,” I went on, allowing Humphrey a moment and then getting us back on our way, before he got any ideas of ending our walk early. “I know I’m going to love them all, just like I love you.”
We passed the town library, which was still closed, and then the small park next to it, with benches and a playground that I loved back when I was in elementary school. Sasha and I used to spend hours perfecting our gymnastics skills on the monkey bars and keeping cool in the turtle sprinkler on hot summer days. Passing it now made me think about how excited I was to see Sasha. She and her mom had been away the whole entire month of August, up at Lake George. We had tons to catch up on.
Humphrey and I ambled past the Rox, the diner my family owned. I looked in the big front window and waved at Leslie, the morning waitress. The diner kept my parents really busy but it was fun to visit them at work. I spent most afternoons and weekends there, doing homework at the counter and munching on sweet potato fries. The other stores on Montgomery were still closed but by the afternoon they would all be open and bustling with customers. And on a warm day like today there would be a line out the door at the Ice Creamery after school for sure.
I looked at my watch and saw that it was getting close to eight. “Ready to go to Sasha’s?” I asked Humphrey, who seemed to nod.
I turned back toward Spring Street. Sasha lived just down the street from me, which was awesome. A few minutes later Humphrey and I were headed up the path to the pretty blue-and-silver ranch house Sasha had shared with her mom since her parents’ divorce.
I sat down on the grass next to the forsythia bush and pulled a dog treat out of my pocket for Humphrey. He lay down at my feet and began to chew on it happily. While he ate, I pulled out my phone and texted Sasha. Two minutes later she came flying out the front door with a shriek.
“I missed you!” Sasha cried, throwing her arms around me. Her hair was back in a braid and she smelled like strawberry shampoo and the lilac soap her mom bought from France. I hugged her back, hard.
Humphrey barked excitedly—he liked Sasha too. And as soon as we were done hugging she let go of me and knelt down to snuggle with Humphrey. She loved dogs every bit as much as I did and was always begging her mother for a pet.
“Better not get any fur on you,” I teased. Sasha’s mom kept their house and Sasha herself as pristine as possible and dog fur was a serious violation in their home.
“Tell me about it,” Sasha said with a cheerful roll of her eyes. “My mom even gave me a set of shelter clothes to put on this afternoon.”
“And take off before you go home?” I asked, laughing.
“You know my mom,” Sasha said, grinning. “I put them in my backpack last night so I wouldn’t forget them.” She threw out her arms. “So I’m all ready! Let’s drop this guy off and get to school.” She started for the sidewalk.
“Um, I think you might be forgetting something,” I said, trying not to smile.
&nb
sp; Sasha frowned. “No, I have my school supplies, my lunch money, and my shelter clothes all here in my—oh!”
I cracked up as she ran back inside for her backpack. Typical Sasha, packing everything she needed in her backpack and then forgetting it. Her mom often joked that Sasha would forget her own head if it weren’t attached, and it was kind of true.
“Thanks,” Sasha said, bouncing back down the stairs of her house.
“What are best friends for?” I asked as we walked toward the Cronins’ house.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Sasha said, reaching over to link arms. Her words were warm and reassuring, like a cup of hot cocoa. I knew things would change in seventh grade. After all, we’d both be super busy and we wouldn’t have all our classes together. That was part of what made working at the shelter so great—it meant we’d still get time together, just us and the dogs. And who could ask for more than that?
Once we’d dropped off Humphrey at home, we headed back downtown toward Roxbury Park Middle School.
“So I haven’t even told you the most exciting thing,” Sasha said, her voice bubbly. “I met the coolest girl in Lake George!”
I felt a tiny pang at Sasha’s words but quickly reminded myself that no matter how cool this girl was, I was Sasha’s best friend and always would be. Plus, Lake George was over two hours away.
“Her name is Taylor and she’s from this big Southern family and has the best accent,” Sasha went on.
“I love Southern accents,” I said. “They sound like music.”
“Totally,” Sasha agreed. “And she’s really funny. I never met anyone who could make me laugh like that.”
I felt that pang again but I ignored it. “She sounds great,” I said as enthusiastically as I could. “I wish I could meet her.”
“That’s the best part!” Sasha exclaimed. “Her dad is going to be working at my mom’s law firm and their family just moved here, to Roxbury Park!”
I was too surprised to say anything but Sasha didn’t notice. “And guess what else? She’s going to volunteer at the dog shelter with us!”
And with that my stomach dropped.
2
Walking into Roxbury Park Middle School was definitely intimidating. It was so much bigger than our elementary school and even though the eighth graders were only one year older than us, they looked so grown-up. But that wasn’t what was knotting up my stomach as Sasha and I put our stuff in our lockers and headed toward our homeroom. That was all about Taylor.
Friends from last year shouted greetings and we waved. I tried to smile but it was hard. I knew I was being silly. If Sasha said Taylor was awesome, then she was, period. And there was no way Sasha would ever leave me out. So why did my stomach twist up every time I thought about meeting the new girl?
Outside of room 312 Sasha let out a shriek even louder than the one she had had for me that morning, and raced to throw her arms around a tall girl with brown skin and a hundred little braids that ended in silver beads. Taylor laughed and hugged Sasha back, the beads in her hair clinking musically. They had just seen each other yesterday so their greeting seemed kind of over-the-top, but I tried not to let that get to me. Instead I walked up to Sasha, ready to be introduced. After all, I was Sasha’s best friend.
“Oh, you must be Kim,” Taylor said in her flowing Southern accent. “You’re just as pretty as Sasha said.”
Taylor’s voice was so friendly, it was not hard to smile at her. The knots in my belly loosened just the littlest bit.
Taylor linked arms with both of us, her skin warm against the crook of my arm. “This is going to be the best year, I know it,” she said.
“I’m so excited you’re here,” Sasha enthused.
“She’s just saying that because she fell in love with my sister Anna’s strawberry shortcake this summer,” Taylor said, elbowing me in a knowing way.
Sasha laughed. “That’s not the only reason I’m glad you’re here,” she joked back. “But Kim, that cake is to die for.”
“It’s the one good thing about having Anna for a big sister,” Taylor said. Her tone was light but I could hear the truth of the words.
“I know what you mean,” I said. “I have a big brother. It sucks to be the baby.” In fairness, my fifteen-year-old brother, Matt, was pretty cool as older brothers went. But he was bossy and messy and had the annoying habit of calling me “pip-squeak.”
“Try being the youngest with three big sisters,” Taylor said, shaking her head and making the music with her braids again. “You can never get anyone to listen to a word you say!”
“You’re pretty good at getting people to listen to you,” Sasha said with a grin.
Taylor put her hands on her hips in mock anger. “Are you calling me a loudmouth?”
Sasha giggled. “Never.”
“I bet your mom is happy to have so many girls,” I said, just to stay in the conversation.
A shadow of sadness passed over Taylor’s face. “Actually my mom died when I was a baby, so it’s just Dad and us girls,” she said. “We definitely keep him on his toes.”
“I’ll say!” Sasha said.
Taylor laughed and gave her a shove.
I smiled stiffly, feeling awful that I’d brought up her mom. I wished Sasha had warned me not to say anything. Taylor did seem matter-of-fact about it, so maybe it wasn’t too big a deal. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d put my foot in my mouth.
The warning bell rang and we filed into the classroom, sitting down in three desks next to each other. Taylor was chatting away about all the things she already loved in Roxbury Park and I finally let myself relax. So far Sasha was right: Taylor was nice. Maybe it really would be fine to have her at the shelter with us.
The final bell rang and for the first time I noticed our teacher, a rail-thin woman with short blond hair who was staring down the three boys still standing in the doorway. As soon as they noticed, they slunk to their seats. Sasha and I exchanged a look: if Dennis Cartwright was sitting down without being told, this was one serious teacher. Sure enough, when she sent her penetrating gaze around the classroom, everyone fell silent. I even made sure my breathing was quiet.
“I’m Mrs. Benson. Your seats are fine for today, but tomorrow you will sit in alphabetical order,” the teacher announced crisply. “When you enter this classroom, you will stop talking because as soon as you walk through that door, your thoughts should be on learning and nothing more. When the bell rings, each and every one of you will be ready to buckle down and get to work.”
I felt myself shrinking in my chair as Mrs. Benson continued. “As you know, I will be your homeroom and English teacher, and you can expect a weekly pop quiz, a test every two weeks, and homework each and every night, weekends included.” She cast a pointed look at Dennis, who sat up even straighter. “You are not sixth graders and you will not hand in work befitting a sixth grader. This is seventh grade and your work and your behavior will reflect that fact.”
Sasha leaned over, probably to make a joke about how strict Mrs. Benson was, but I kept my eyes on the teacher. I knew better than to get in trouble for talking on the very first day, especially when I was going to have enough trouble with all those pop quizzes and tests. I really did try my best at school but sometimes I missed things. Last year Mr. Dunbar was nice about it, giving me extra time for complicated assignments and letting me redo mistakes in my homework. But clearly it was not going to be like that this year, at least not in science or English. And what if the other teachers were like Mrs. Benson? Seventh grade was beginning to look like a jail sentence.
“And I hope all of you have signed up for your volunteer assignments.”
Finally something good! I grinned at Sasha, thinking about how great it was going to be. Sasha was whispering with Taylor and didn’t notice. But the thought of all those cute dogs waiting to play gave me a cozy feeling inside that stayed with me for the rest of the day.
“Phew,” Sasha said as the three o
f us headed downtown that afternoon.
“You’re telling me,” Taylor agreed. “From the way those teachers were talking I think we may have a hundred hours of homework a night!”
“And a pop quiz every day,” I added with a sigh.
“We’re never going to have time for anything fun.” Sasha pouted.
I was about to point out what a great time we’d have at the shelter but Taylor spoke up first.
“Remember that day we went out in canoes on the lake and we capsized?” she asked Sasha.
Sasha burst out laughing. “Anna was so mad she practically exploded.”
“Well, she’d gotten up at like six in the morning to do her hair,” Taylor said with an eye roll.
I walked along quietly as they continued to talk about all the super-fun things that had happened in Lake George. Sasha was talking about Anna and the rest of Taylor’s family like they were all best friends. Which it kind of seemed like they were. Finally I realized they weren’t going to talk to me unless I butted in.
“Taylor, have you been to the shelter yet?” I asked when there was a tiny pause in their conversation.
Taylor shook her head and her beads clinked. “No, I just talked to the owner on the phone,” she said. “Alice, right? She seems really nice.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Alice,” I said. “And she is super nice.”
“The Feenys adopted a dog there when Kim was five,” Sasha added. “So we’ve known Alice for a long time.”
It felt really good to hear her remind Taylor how long we’d known each other.
“And you’re going to love the shelter,” Sasha said, squeezing Taylor’s arm.
That felt less good.
“So I bet your mom double-checked that you had your shelter clothes this morning,” Taylor said with a knowing look. Then she began speaking in a near perfect imitation of Sasha’s mom. “I suppose you can work with the dogs but you must be sure to put your shelter clothes in a vacuum-sealed bag so that we don’t get a single piece of fur in our home.”