by Daphne Maple
“I totally will from now on,” Brianna said, again sounding pretty fake.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kim asked Taylor as Brianna took off down the hall.
“I’m fine,” Taylor said. “Really, it surprised me but it didn’t hurt.”
We’d reached the front doors of the school and moved forward into the crowd spilling out on the steps and sidewalk in front of the school. It was a gray day with clouds low in the sky. I hoped it wasn’t going to rain, especially since today we were going to try taking Sierra on a long walk before her Dog Club time. Once we’d reached Market Street we split up to pick up our club dogs.
As soon as Gus heard me turn the key in the lock of his front door he bounded into the entryway, nails scratching lightly on the wooden floor as he waited for me.
“Who’s a good doggy?” I asked him, coming in and closing the door behind me. Gus’s mouth was slightly open in what looked just like a smile as he butted his head gently against me, eager to be petted.
I was happy to oblige. I scratched behind his ears, then gave his back a good rub. Gus panted happily.
“Are you ready to go play?” I asked him, reaching for the leash set out on the table.
He quivered with excitement as I snapped it on, then pranced beside me out of the house and down the street. A few minutes later we were at the dog park, where we met up with Coco, Popsicle, and Humphrey. And of course Kim and Taylor too. We took the dogs off their leashes and let them run together.
“I checked our Dog Club email last night and we got a message from a woman who’s interested,” I said, sitting on one of the benches on the edge of the park. There was one other owner there, an older woman whose little tan dog began playing chase with Popsicle and Coco.
“Oh, cool,” Taylor said. “Did she sign up?”
“She’s going to think about it,” I said. “But Mrs. McDermott said she loves our blog.” Kim grinned. “And she said the dog pictures are fabulous.” Now Taylor was smiling too.
“What kind of dog does she have?” Kim asked.
“A mix. Mrs. McDermott said he’s black and tan, with floppy ears. And he’s really big.”
Kim’s smile faded. “I’m not sure we can handle another big dog,” she said. “Not until we have Sierra behaving.”
I hadn’t thought of that but Kim was right. “Well, maybe he’s big but very calm,” I said.
“That would work,” Kim said. “And we should get going. I think we’re a little late.”
That was my fault—good thing I wasn’t trying to prove my lack of flightiness to my friends!
We headed for the shelter. As we opened the door I expected to be bombarded by Sierra but instead we were met with happy barks and kisses from Boxer, Hattie, Lily, Daisy, and of course, Mr. Smashmouth, who raced over to me as fast as his little legs could carry him. As soon as I had Gus off his leash I picked up Mr. Smashmouth.
“Where’s Sierra?” Taylor asked Tim.
“Caley took her out already,” he said. “Mr. Finnegan dropped her off a little early and we figured it was better to get going before the club dogs got here.”
“Good thinking,” Kim said.
Alice came out of her office. Today she was wearing her Roxbury Park Dog Club T-shirt and so was Tim. “We all match,” I said happily, since Kim and Taylor were wearing theirs too.
But then I realized we didn’t match because I wasn’t wearing mine. “Yikes,” I said, setting down Mr. Smashmouth and grabbing my backpack. I’d forgotten to put on my shelter clothes again!
I pawed through my stuff but after searching for a full minute, even taking everything out, I saw that it was worse than forgetting to put them on: I’d forgotten to bring them at all.
“I wish I had gym clothes or something to lend you,” Taylor said sympathetically. She was throwing a ball for Boxer and Lily but had noticed my predicament.
“Thanks,” I said with a sigh. This was definitely not going to show my mom that I was remembering things more. Though maybe I’d get lucky and could slip my school clothes in the washing machine before she got home. For now there was nothing to do but play with the dogs. So I did.
We took all the dogs out for a rowdy game of fetch, then Taylor and I took some of the smaller dogs—and the lazier ones like sweet Humphrey—back inside while Kim and Tim stayed out with the others.
Humphrey collapsed in the corner, clearly exhausted from the game. Hattie brought a tennis ball over to Taylor, who pitched it across the room. Hattie and Popsicle raced after it but Mr. Smashmouth stayed with me.
Alice came out of her office, pulling on a sweater. “Do you girls mind if I run a few errands?” she asked. “I’ll be back before the club dog owners come for pickup.”
“We’re fine,” I said. “Take your time.”
“Thanks,” she said, then headed out.
“Want to help me take a quiz?” I asked Mr. Smashmouth, settling on the floor and pulling him into my lap. “I’m trying to find the perfect pet and I bet you can help me.” I slipped my phone out of my pocket and clicked on the quiz I’d found earlier. “Okay, first question: what is your favorite color?”
“How will that help you find a pet?” Taylor asked. “That sounds more like a quiz for redecorating your room.”
“It says it figures out your personality and then matches you with the perfect pet,” I said.
Taylor shrugged. “Whatever works I guess.” Hattie had picked up a pull toy and Taylor headed across the room to play with it, leaving me and Mr. Smashmouth to the quiz.
“My favorite color is aqua,” I told Mr. Smashmouth, who tipped his head like he understood me. Kim was the one who could really talk to dogs but I felt like my bond with Mr. Smashmouth was special and we did understand each other. “But aqua isn’t one of the options so I’ll just go with blue.” I clicked the answer and then waited for the next question.
Mr. Smashmouth snuggled even deeper into my lap and let out a contented sigh. I ran my hands along his soft ears. “You’re a sweetie” I told him. “And here’s the next question: What is your favorite flower? The choices are rose, tulip, carnation, or orchid. I like lilacs best, but what do you say we go with orchid? They’re kind of exotic.” Mr. Smashmouth seemed to agree so I clicked on orchid.
We spent the next few minutes finishing the quiz, with Taylor chiming in a few times.
“Okay, this is it,” I said, after clicking for the final result. “My perfect pet is a . . .” I waited for it to appear. “A snake! Wait, a snake? Ew! That is so not my perfect pet.” Taylor and I started laughing and I swear Mr. Smashmouth was laughing with us.
I bent down and buried my face in his soft tummy. Just then I heard the front door of the shelter open and Taylor say, “Hi, Mrs. Brown.” It was my mom!
I scrambled to my feet and saw my mom staring at me. Well, more at Mr. Smashmouth, who was still snug in my arms. She was probably thinking about all the fur I was getting on my clothes. This was a nightmare!
“Hi, Mom,” I said, setting Mr. Smashmouth on the ground and almost running over to her. “Is everything okay?” My mom had never come to the shelter before and I was realizing there might be a problem.
Then my mom held up the plastic bag with my shelter clothes. “I was home getting a file and I saw that you’d forgotten these,” she said, passing me the bag. “I thought I’d bring them by so you wouldn’t ruin your school clothes, but I guess I’m too late.”
“They’ll be fine after I wash them,” I assured her. “They’re not dirty at all.”
My mom glanced at Mr. Smashmouth, who had trotted over to Humphrey and was playing with a ball. I wondered if I should try to get my mom to meet him. I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with his sweet little face? Plus Cavachons, Mr. Smashmouth’s breed, didn’t shed much, which I knew would impress her. But before I could say anything else my mom was already headed out, probably worried about getting fur on her crisp red suit. “I’ll put the clothes in the wash as soon as I get home,” I cal
led after her.
She waved and then headed out. I slumped against the wall. That had not gone well at all. How was I going to prove I’d changed when I kept making the same old mistakes?
I heard a small yip and looked down. Mr. Smashmouth was at my feet, his sweet face concerned. I scooped him up and cuddled him close, just as the sounds of one very rambunctious dog came from outside the front door.
“I think Caley and Sierra are back,” I said to Taylor, whose eyes got big. She headed for the safety of Alice’s office but it was too late: the door opened and in bounded Sierra, wild as ever.
Oscar flew from the room while Hattie and Popsicle took off for a far corner. Humphrey roused from his nap and took off after them. And Mr. Smashmouth burrowed deeper into my arms.
“How did it go?” I asked Caley.
“You know, it seemed like it was working toward the end,” she said, running a hand through her short, windswept hair. “She was walking instead of running and the last few blocks she stopped straining against the leash.”
“That seems good,” I said.
“Yeah,” Caley agreed. “But look at her now.”
Sierra was running frantic laps around the room.
“It’s like the walk never happened,” Caley said with a sigh.
“I guess she’s just excited to see the other dogs,” I said.
As though to prove my point the back door opened and Boxer, Lily, Gus, and Coco came bouncing in, making Sierra go nuts. She galloped toward them at breakneck speed and Tim, who was coming in behind the dogs, jumped back.
“Whoa,” he said as Coco, Gus, and Boxer raced after Sierra, turning the shelter into a dog tornado. Lily didn’t run but she stood in the center of the room barking loudly, so that didn’t help.
Tim called out something that was impossible to hear over the noise, but then he ushered Sierra toward the backyard, so clearly he was telling us his plan. He shut the door before any of the other dogs could get out.
“Yikes,” Kim said. I hadn’t even noticed her come in. “I guess the walk didn’t help.”
“Actually Caley said she did calm down at the end,” I said. “But I think seeing the other dogs revved her back up.”
“It doesn’t take much to rev that dog,” Caley said. She was looking out the window into the yard, where Sierra was trying to dig her hole again.
Kim, Taylor, and I exchanged a look.
“I guess it’s back to the drawing board,” Kim said.
So it was. I was still sure we’d come up with something. But even I had to admit things couldn’t go on like they were.
We were running out of time and options.
9
“Um, you guys, is it supposed to look like this?” Taylor asked, sounding worried. She was standing in front of the stove at my house, stirring a big saucepan of what we hoped would turn out to be Turkish delight. But so far it wasn’t going that well.
“I think we made a mistake trying to double the recipe the first time we tried it,” I said. That had been Kim’s idea, since we’d have to double it when we made it for the festival, to be sure we had enough for everyone.
“But why bother with a smaller amount?” Kim said, coming over to the stove. “Then it’s like we’re doing it a totally new way when we double the recipe for the whole grade.” That was exactly what she had said before.
“More can go wrong when you work with bigger amounts,” Taylor said. “Like, I don’t think this is supposed to look like tiny rocks, but it does.”
I’d been cleaning up the sugar we’d spilled on the counter but I came to look over Taylor’s other shoulder.
“I don’t think that’s right,” I said, staring into the pan, which contained boiling sugar and water. I looked at the recipe next to the stove. “It’s supposed to just be liquid.”
“I probably didn’t stir it enough,” Taylor fretted.
“Don’t worry, we can just stir it a lot now,” Kim said, grabbing a wooden spoon and dipping it into the hot liquid. She whipped the spoon around the pot and a spray of sugar water flew out and onto the stove. Something else we’d need to clean before my mom got home. Which was a lot sooner than I would have liked. Somehow this whole venture, which was supposed to be ninety minutes, was taking over the whole afternoon.
“Gently,” Taylor told Kim, who slowed her spoon. “I think it’s getting better,” she said after a minute.
I peeked in and sure enough the pebbles were gone and it looked like liquid. I sighed with relief. There was still a lot to clean but at least the candy was on the right track.
“Okay, now we put this aside and boil the other ingredients,” Taylor said. “I’ll get the water and cornstarch.
“I’ll get the cream of tartar,” I said, looking at the recipe.
We poured everything into a new saucepan and Kim turned on the burner.
“Here’s the rosewater,” Taylor said. We’d ordered it special off the internet and it had come in a pretty little glass bottle.
“Wait, I think we add that later,” I said.
But it was too late, Taylor had already put it in.
“Uh-oh,” she said.
“I’m sure it’s not a big deal,” I said, noting the tightness in her face. But secretly I wasn’t so sure. I knew it mattered that the ingredients go in when they were supposed to. Plus I was feeling anxious about how the kitchen was covered in spills, so I wasn’t in the best place to be reassuring.
“It’s just a practice run anyway,” Taylor said, trying to calm everyone down. “We’re working out the kinks so it’ll be perfect when we make it for the festival.”
“Right,” Kim said, taking a deep breath. “Okay, Taylor, do you want to stir it while I help Sash clean up a bit?”
That sounded great. Kim and I made quick work of the sugar on the counter, the crusted sugar water on the stove, and the light dusting of cornstarch on the floor.
Now I was feeling a lot better. “What’s next?” I asked.
“I think this is done,” Taylor said, looking at the pot she’d been stirring. “It’s supposed to have the consistency of glue.” She lifted a spoon and the sticky, gloppy mixture clung to it, then slid off slowly in a slithering mass.
I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose. “It doesn’t look so good.”
“It smells good though,” Kim pointed out. “That rose is sweet.”
“Should we add more rosewater?” I asked. “Since we’re supposed to put it in now?”
Kim frowned. “I’m not sure,” she said. “We don’t want it to taste too flowery.”
“Sash, can you get the other pot?” Taylor asked. “We need to combine them and then let it all simmer together. Then we can figure out the rosewater.”
“I have to go in a few minutes,” Kim said, looking at the clock on the stove.
“Me too,” Taylor said. “But Sash, I think it’s pretty easy to finish up, just some stirring and then pouring it into the baking pan and letting it cool overnight.” We’d already gotten the pan greased and ready.
“I can handle that,” I said, bringing the other pot over to Taylor.
“We’ll help you clean before we go,” Kim said. “Though there’s not much left to do.”
It did look good. My mom was definitely going to be impressed.
I lifted the pot full of syrupy mixture to pour it into the saucepan that had the boiling sugar water and lemon but the moment it hit the water, some drops flew up and hit the inside of my wrist. I jerked back instinctively and both pots clattered to the floor, splashing hot sugar water and the sticky cornstarch mix across the kitchen.
The three of us gasped.
“Oh no!” Taylor exclaimed, looking panicked as she gazed around at the once-spotless kitchen that was now coated with slime.
“I can’t believe this,” Kim said.
I was speechless, staring in horror at the incredible mess surrounding us.
Taylor was the first to recover. “Okay, let’s start cleaning up. Sash, where d
o you guys keep rags and sponges?”
“I think we’ll need a mop too,” Kim said.
I tried to take a deep breath and calm down so I could take charge but my chest was too tight. This was a disaster. It would take ages to clean and I couldn’t let Taylor and Kim get in trouble for getting home late.
Kim was searching in the pantry for supplies and Taylor was rummaging under the sink. The sight of my two friends trying to fix things pushed me to get it together.
“You guys, I can take care of it,” I said. “It’s late.”
“We can’t leave you with so much work,” Kim said. But I could see her forehead creased with worry at the thought of being late. Not to mention the fact that our project was a total fiasco and I knew how stressed she was about our grade.
“Really, it’s okay,” I said. “I have a while before my mom gets home. I can get it done. And you guys need to get going.”
Taylor and Kim exchanged a look.
“If you’re sure, I really should get home and start dinner,” Taylor said. “Anna has to stay late at school for a young engineers meeting and she asked me to get things ready.”
We all knew what would happen if Taylor messed that up. Anna wasn’t exactly understanding.
“Go, I’m fine, really,” I said, trying to sound upbeat as I shooed them out. I did have at least an hour before my mom got home. That should be enough time to wipe up the layer of gunk covering everything. Maybe.
Though when I got back to the kitchen after walking them out and saw goop coating the counter, puddles of it all over the floor, and spots of it on the fronts of all the appliances I kind of wanted to cry. But that wouldn’t help, so I grabbed one of the sponges Taylor had gotten out and got to work.
I was making pretty good progress when I heard a sound that made my heart stop: my mother’s key in the front door. She was home early! I scrubbed desperately at the floor but I knew it was no use. There was at least an hour’s worth of cleanup yet to do.
I heard my mom slip off her shoes and then walk down the hall, her steps coming closer. My heart started thumping hard in my chest as she came nearer and nearer. This was not going to be good.