by Daphne Maple
Sasha doubled over laughing. “That’s just how she sounded last night,” she said. “And she seriously checked my backpack ten times this morning, to make sure I had the clothes packed.” She grinned at me and I forced myself to laugh along with them, even though I was feeling more and more like a third wheel.
“I remember when your mom—” I started, trying to join in, but Taylor began her imitation again.
I nodded, pushing myself to stay in the conversation. Probably after Taylor and I spent more time together I’d be in on the jokes too. At least I hoped so because being left out like this was giving me a hollow feeling right in the middle of my chest.
We were downtown now and sure enough there was a long line outside of the Ice Creamery. We waved to a group of girls from Mrs. Benson’s class. I couldn’t help wishing that Taylor would decide to join them instead of going to the shelter, but of course she didn’t. She was sticking to Sasha like glue.
But then we were opening the door to the shelter, a spacious, open building with a large backyard. The scent of clean dog fur and the sound of happy barking greeted us and I felt the tension of the day melt away, replaced with the happiness that could only come from being with dogs.
“Hello, girls,” Alice called as she walked toward us. She always wore dog T-shirts and today’s said “Peace, Love, and Dogs.” Her hair was up in a ponytail that was coming loose, and when a cuddly little dog with shaggy white fur bounced over to us, she scooped him up in her arms. “Welcome to your first day at work. We’re so glad you’re here.”
The dog in her arms barked as though in agreement and we all laughed.
“Meet Mr. Smashmouth,” Alice said. “Since he clearly wants to meet you.”
I knew my breeds and Mr. Smashmouth was definitely a Cavachon. I also noticed a blue sheen covering his eyes that probably meant he was blind. But the little dog wriggled with pleasure when I gave his fuzzy head a rub.
“You must be Taylor,” Alice said with a friendly smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” Taylor said in her musical Southern way. “Nice to meet you.”
“I appreciate you coming to help us out,” Alice said. “The more people to love these dogs, the better.”
“I’ll be back in two seconds,” Sasha said, heading off to the bathroom to put on her shelter clothes.
I smiled at Taylor, hoping maybe we could share a joke, but she was looking at the bigger dogs across the room. Just then I felt something soft brush against my ankle. I looked down and was surprised to see a sleek gray cat.
“That’s Oscar,” Alice said. “He thinks he’s a dog and we don’t tell him otherwise.”
I laughed as Oscar stepped regally around a big tan dog carrying a tennis ball and jumped up to a red flannel cat bed on the windowsill.
“He keeps an eye on everything from up there,” Alice said. “Can one of you take this little guy?” She held out Mr. Smashmouth and Sasha, who was already back, happily took him. He sniffed her chin, then gave her a lick and snuggled against her shoulder.
“He’s an affectionate one,” Alice said. “And this here is Lily.” She gestured to the tan dog, who was clearly a mix of breeds, with her long thick fur and curly tail. She moved slowly, the sign of an older dog. “She’s loving too.”
Lily came up to us and I automatically reached for the soggy yellow ball in her mouth. Lily released it and I tossed it gently across the open space in the center of the room. Big, comfy cages lined the walls and dog toys were scattered on the scuffed linoleum floor. Lily trotted to her ball, scooped it up in her mouth, and came running back to me, ready to play again. A moment later we were in the easy rhythm of a game of fetch. At least it was an easy rhythm until a large boxer raced over, ears flapping, and snatched Lily’s ball. Then he ran back to me and jumped up, paws on my chest.
I immediately gave him the command to get down, kindly but firmly. He obeyed instantly. I didn’t really mind the greeting but dogs need to learn manners and have everyone who works with them reinforce those manners.
“Girls, meet Boxer,” Alice said. “Not the most original name for a boxer, but it does fit him.”
I rubbed his head with my knuckles and he gazed up at me adoringly. What a sweetie.
“Looks like you already have him wrapped around your finger,” Alice said admiringly.
Her words made me glow. I picked up the tennis ball and threw it across the room. Both dogs raced for it, Lily suddenly much faster on her feet now that there was some competition.
Alice laughed as Lily outmaneuvered Boxer and flew back to me with her soggy prize.
“Let me show you around,” Alice said. “And we can talk a little about what you’ll be doing here.”
I straightened up at her words. We would be here two afternoons a week and I planned to make the most of every second!
“My office is here,” Alice said, gesturing to a little room tucked in the back, “but you’ll be spending most of your time out here in the main room with the dogs.” She began to walk us around the big room. “We keep toys on these shelves but as you can see, over the day most of them end up on the floor so the dogs can play with them.” The shelves next to the sleeping cages just had a chewed-up toy bone and a tennis ball with several holes in it. Clearly that one had been played with a lot.
“The food is in this room,” Alice said, opening a door on the wall across from the cages. Several dogs ran toward us when they realized the food room was open and we all laughed. Alice shepherded us in and closed the door behind us. “This is where we keep a list of each dog’s feeding schedule,” she said, showing us a clipboard. “We usually feed in the morning and at night, so you won’t be helping with that so much. But just so you know in case you ever stay late.” We all nodded. I hoped I could work late at least a few times. It would be really fun to help out with feeding.
“And I will ask you to give all the dogs fresh water before you leave each day,” Alice said as she led us out. “Their bowls are in their cages and we leave those open so they can go in and drink or rest in their beds during the day.”
“If we aren’t feeding the dogs, what will we be doing?” Taylor asked.
“Making sure the dogs get exercise,” Alice said. “And love. When you’re here, keep track of which dogs you’re spending time with and spread it around, so they all get some run-around time and some snuggle time.” Alice smiled. “Both are very important for their health and well-being.”
“Sounds great,” I said, and Sasha and Taylor nodded.
Alice began walking toward the back door and I noticed that the floor was really scuffed up from all the dog play that happened. “On nice days you can take some of the dogs outside,” Alice said when we reached the back door, which had big windows on either side. The grass in the yard had a lot of bare patches and a few holes where dogs had been digging.
“The bathroom is behind that door,” Alice said, pointing to the corner. “And I think that’s about it. Go ahead and start getting comfortable with the dogs, playing and petting them. And let me know if you have any questions.”
We thanked Alice as Boxer ran over to me with the tennis ball. I tossed it for him and watched as he and Lily ran after it, then raced back and dropped it at my feet. I threw it for them a few more times and each time they seemed to go after it faster. They were definitely getting their daily exercise.
After a few minutes I looked around to see what Sasha and Taylor were doing. I was surprised Sasha wasn’t already in the middle of things; she loved rowdy games of fetch as much as I did. But Sasha and Taylor were up near the front of the big room. Sasha was still holding Mr. Smashmouth and Taylor was petting Oscar as they bent their heads together talking.
For a moment I got that hollow feeling in my chest again, but then Boxer dashed over with the ball, Lily in hot pursuit. I turned my attention back to the dogs and their game, forgetting everything but the fun of being with two new dogs who I already loved.
3
“So how was school,
sweetie?” my mom asked, passing me the mashed potatoes that night at dinner. Her cheeks were pink from cooking at the Rox all day and her curly hair was up in a haphazard bun. You’d think after spending so many hours in a restaurant my parents would be sick of anything food-related. But my mom said she loved cooking just for us and she often tried out new recipes on our family. The good ones she used at the Rox and the bad ones became family jokes. Tonight she was trying out a new rosemary fried chicken.
“Fine,” I said, putting a heaping pile of potatoes on my plate. All that playing with dogs had given me an appetite.
“How are your teachers?” my dad pressed as I passed him the bowl. His glasses were perched on the edge of his nose as he carefully spooned some potatoes onto his plate.
Thinking about Mrs. Benson was definitely going to make my stomach hurt. “Okay,” I said. “And I think working at the shelter is going to be great. The dogs are so sweet. There’s this one boxer named Boxer and—”
Matt stopped inhaling his food long enough to laugh. “A boxer named Boxer?” he asked. His curly hair was cut short for soccer season and he was wearing the gray sweatshirt my mom kept threatening to burn it was so beat up.
I laughed too. “I know, but the name totally fits him.”
“That’s cool,” Matt said, going back to vacuum-cleaner mode with his dinner. My mom said fifteen-year-old boys put away more food than the entire lunch-hour rush at the diner.
“And then there’s Lily,” I went on. “She’s brown and fuzzy and she loves fetch. She and Boxer kept trying to get the ball at the same time—it was really funny.”
“Sounds great,” my dad said. “But tell us more about school.”
I shrugged. “It was fine,” I said again. I took a bite of chicken while my parents exchanged a glance and then my mom asked Matt about his first day.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell them about school, it was just that there wasn’t much to say. Plus it was a lot more fun to talk about the dogs.
“Here’s something else,” I said when Matt had heaped his plate high with second helpings and was digging in. “There’s a cat at the shelter. His name is Oscar and he thinks he’s a dog.”
Matt laughed.
“A cat who thinks he’s a dog,” my dad said, smiling. “What a hoot.”
My dad loved corny sayings like that.
My mom raised the platter of chicken. “Who wants seconds?” she asked. Then she looked at Matt. “Or thirds in your case.”
“Me,” I said eagerly. “It’s really good, Mom. You should definitely put it on the menu.”
My mom grinned. “Maybe I’ll call it the Kim special.”
I shook my head. “No, I think you should name a milk shake special after me. One with lots of caramel sauce and crushed Oreos.”
“I’d order it,” Matt said, his mouth full.
“Is there any dessert you wouldn’t order?” my dad joked.
My mom loaded everyone’s plates with more chicken, then turned back to me. “Does it look like you’ll be getting a lot of homework?” she asked.
I took a big bite of chicken, then nodded. I didn’t really feel like talking about the whole weekly-pop-quizzes thing.
“She’s going to have tons,” Matt said, his eyes sparkling like they always did when he teased me. “Forget about seeing sunlight, Kim. You’re going to be locked up doing homework every free minute you have.”
I rolled my eyes but my mom looked concerned. “I hope the shelter doesn’t get in the way of getting it all done,” she said.
I swallowed fast. “It definitely won’t, don’t worry,” I said.
“And Mom, remember, she has to work at the shelter for school,” Matt said, serious this time.
“Right, I forgot about that,” my mom said.
I grinned at Matt and he gave me a wink. Yes, his teasing got annoying, but he always had my back. In the end he really was pretty cool as big brothers went.
“How’s Sasha?” my mom asked.
“She’s good,” I said. “Excited about working in the shelter too.”
“I bet,” my dad said.
“Hey, what did her mom say about the turtle?” Matt asked, taking his last bite of chicken.
A few days before she left for Lake George, Sasha was over for dinner and told us her latest grand plan for a pet: a turtle. Her mom had already said no to her earlier pleas for a hypoallergenic dog, a hamster, and a guinea pig. Since turtles don’t have fur we all agreed there was no way her mom could say no.
But it turned out we were wrong. “No turtle,” I said, scraping my plate for the last of my potatoes. “Mrs. Brown thinks they’re dirty.”
Matt laughed as he stood up to clear his dishes. “Of course they are,” he said.
“Didn’t Mrs. Brown hire a new lawyer for her firm who has a daughter about your age?” my mom asked.
Taylor: another thing I didn’t really feel like talking about.
“Yeah,” I said, standing up to take my plate in. “I better get started on my homework.”
“Homework the first day?” my dad asked.
“We have to read the first two chapters of Oliver Twist,” I said.
“Welcome to middle school,” Matt called from the kitchen. “It’s homework all the time.”
I headed upstairs to do my reading extra carefully, just in case there was a pop quiz this week. No normal teacher would do that but then again, Mrs. Benson had made it clear she wasn’t any normal teacher. And I wanted to be ready for anything.
“Pass your papers to the front of the room,” Mrs. Benson said. I’d been right: Mrs. Benson had given us a pop quiz the first week of school. I was super glad I’d done the reading but I still wasn’t sure how I’d done on the quiz. Sometimes I forgot stuff, especially when there wasn’t much time to write answers. And Mrs. Benson definitely didn’t give much time. “And now we will begin discussing your first major essay of the year,” she added.
Sasha shot me a look from her new seat a row away. We were now sitting alphabetically. Taylor’s last name was Burke, so she was right behind Sasha and was whispering something to her. But I couldn’t think too much about that, not when Mrs. Benson was looking so serious. And “major essay” did not sound good.
“Your volunteer assignments are a unique and memorable opportunity to make a difference in our community,” Mrs. Benson said. “But they are also a place of learning and therefore you will be expected to write about your experiences.”
Dennis was slouching down in his seat, probably making spitballs or something equally gross. Mrs. Benson stopped and gave him a piercing look. He sat up quickly.
“You will explain what your organization does and the work you do there,” Mrs. Benson went on, pacing a bit as she spoke. “As well as what it is that you bring to the organization, the strengths you offer, and how your presence there is making a difference.”
Yikes, that sounded really hard. I glanced over at Sasha but she was already mouthing something at Taylor. I looked down at my hands, trying not to remember how Taylor had already been at Sasha’s this morning when I got there after walking Humphrey. And how they spent the whole trip to school talking about fun times in Lake George. They explained some of it to me and I tried to act like I thought it was funny too. But hearing about it wasn’t the same as actually being there.
“And of course you will present this information in the standard five-paragraph essay,” Mrs. Benson said.
I hoped she would remind us what a five-paragraph essay was. I didn’t remember from last year. But instead she was starting a lecture on Charles Dickens and why he wrote Oliver Twist.
I tried to take notes on what she was saying but part of me was already getting worried about the essay. I could definitely write about what we did at the shelter, but I wasn’t sure what strengths I brought. And I wasn’t sure I was making a difference to the organization. I mean, I knew Alice was glad to have our help, but did help count as making a difference? This was why school
was so hard—the more you thought about an assignment, the more confusing it got.
I looked over at Sasha but now she was reading what looked like a note from Taylor and smiling.
I sighed and slid down in my seat. This day was not off to a very good start.
4
The walk to the shelter was even worse than the walk to school, with Taylor and Sasha talking about what had happened in gym. The class I wasn’t in since I had it sixth period. It seemed like any time anything funny happened, I wasn’t there and Taylor was. The gray day matched my mood. It wasn’t raining but clouds lay low and heavy in the sky, making the air feel thick and hard to breathe. Or maybe it was the happy chatter between Taylor and Sasha that made everything feel weighted down. Either way, I was glad when we finally got to the shelter.
The second we walked in, I could feel my spirits lift. After all, when three dogs come racing toward you, all wanting to give you kisses and play, how can you possibly stay in a bad mood?
“Hello, girls,” Alice said, walking up to us with her usual friendly smile. She was wearing a T-shirt with a picture of a dog in sunglasses that said “Dog Days of Summer.” “I have some other volunteers to introduce you to.”
I’d been so busy snuggling Lily I hadn’t even noticed that there were two other people at the shelter.
“This is Tim Sanchez and Caley Winters,” Alice said. “They go to the high school and come by a few times a week to help out. They’ll usually be here on the days you’re working.” Caley had red hair and freckles while Tim was tall with tanned skin and shaggy black hair.
“Nice to meet y’all,” Taylor said, reaching out to shake hands with them like she hung out with high schoolers every day. I mean, I did too if you counted Matt, but he was my brother. That was different. And I always felt shy when his friends came over. They seemed so cool. Kind of like Caley and Tim.
But Taylor wasn’t fazed. “I’m Taylor and this is Sasha and Kim,” she said, gesturing to us.
“Hi,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up as they both smiled at us.