Storm Watcher

by Maria V. Snyder

  “Megan, watch out.” The yell exploded from his mouth before he could stifle it. Certain that she would go flying off the end, he dropped his bike on the dirt path and ran after her.

  She stopped one plank short of the edge, panting and flushed. “Scared you.”

  “Did not,” he said quickly. “I just didn’t want to eat a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

  She laughed and unpacked their lunches. They sat on the edge of the dock with their feet dangling above the pond. Dragonflies zoomed and hovered over the lumpy greenish surface. Insects buzzed in the moist air.

  “Mom said you just had a birthday. Any cool stuff?” Megan asked.

  “No. Clothes from my grandmom.” Luke sighed. He’d needed new clothes. He had outgrown his old ones, and Dad used Jacob and Scott’s hand-me-downs for rags. He hated to ask Dad to take him shopping because he didn’t want to see the pain in his father’s eyes. Clothes shopping had been Mom’s job.

  Megan crinkled her nose, and Luke guessed it wasn’t because of the rotten odor of pond scum from below.

  “I hate getting clothes,” she said. “I’d rather have a new video game, but my sister loves new outfits. She lives for shopping. I’d rather go bike riding. Did you get anything else?”

  All he’d gotten from his brothers had been a mumbled “Happy Birthday,” while they shoveled down the chocolate cake Grandmom had baked.

  “The puppy,” he said, wondering if, like clothes that didn’t fit, he could exchange it for something he really wanted.

  “But that’s not really a gift. You’re working the summer to pay for it.”

  “Yeah, but my dad’ll be paying for dog food and the vet bills. He’ll probably build another bed in the shed for her to use.” He sighed again, unable to feel any enthusiasm.

  “You don’t want a puppy?” Megan stared at him as if he had two heads.

  “I don’t want a bloodhound pup. I want one of Lady’s puppies.”

  “No problem. My mom wouldn’t care. She can sell either. Just let her know.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Why not?”

  Luke shrugged. Megan probably wouldn’t understand. Willajean encouraged Megan to think of new ideas for training and to do things differently. If Megan decided she wanted to breed pharaoh hounds, Willajean probably wouldn’t have a problem adding a pharaoh hound to her kennel.

  “My dad lives and breathes bloodhounds.” Luke tried to explain. “He knows everything about them. They’re so familiar that any other dog probably seems like an alien from Pluto to him.”

  Megan laughed, but seeing Luke’s glum expression she stopped. “Maybe you can get your dad to like papillons.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tell him about how tough and smart they are, and how much the puppies are worth if you decide to breed your dog. You know, that kind of thing,” Megan suggested.

  Excitement pulsed in Luke’s chest. “I get it. If he knows all about them, and I tell him about all the ribbons Sweetie and Lady have won, he might let me have one.”

  “If you become an expert on papillons, I’ll bet he’ll feel better about having one in his house.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  Megan’s phone chirped. She pulled a red cell phone from her pants pocket, read the text message, and replied. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard.

  “A friend?” Luke asked.

  “Yeah. Karen, my best friend down in North Carolina.” She shoved the phone back into her pocket. “She’s biking too. We used to go out all day. I knew all the trails around our houses by heart.” Megan tossed a stone into the water. “There are lots of biking trails down there. Up here, I keep running into houses or farms. Do you know any good places to ride?”

  “Not really. I stick to the streets.”

  Megan looked so disappointed, Luke searched his memory. “Oh wait, there’s this trail that used to be a railroad track. It goes all the way from Elizabethtown to Mt. Gretna. I think there’s an entrance nearby. Oh, and if you go to Mt. Gretna, you have to get ice cream at the Jigger shop. It’s the best ever.”

  “Yeah? Do they have moose tracks? It’s my favorite.”

  “Yep. I always get mint chocolate chip.”

  “Is it green?”

  “Of course, it’s not true mint chip if it isn’t green.”

  She laughed, smiling until another text message chirped. “Karen’s biking with Becky now, showing her all our secret spots.” After she typed, she turned to Luke. “What’s your cell number? I’ll put it in my contacts.”

  “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  Megan gasped. “Why not?”

  “My dad thinks I don’t need one until I’m old enough to drive. That’s when my brothers got theirs.”

  “That’s…” Unable to finish, she just gaped at him.

  “Crazy, I know. But we don’t have a ton of money, and my brothers pay their monthly bill.” He shrugged. “I’ll give you my home number. Nobody answers that but me.”

  “But what if—”

  “Believe me, I’ve tried using all the what-if situations with my dad. He’s stubborn.” Luke picked up a pebble and threw it into the water.

  “My mom gets that way too. But if I have a good reason, she sees my point. Do you think your dad will let you get a papillon?”

  “I don’t know.” But it was worth a try.

  They discussed the best time to approach his dad as they biked back to the kennel. When they drew closer to her farm, Megan stopped and leaned her bike on a tree.

  “What’s wrong?” Luke pulled next to her.

  She gestured to another trail that branched off to the left. Steeper than the one they rode on, it climbed up a hill. “There’s an overlook at the top that’s awesome. Wanna see?”

  “Sure.” Luke dumped his bike.

  They hiked up the path, huffing in the humid air.

  Near the top, Megan pointed straight ahead. “If you keep walking, there a stream that feeds into the pond.”

  Surprised, Luke asked, “How do you know?”

  “I took Lance for a walk, and we found it. I like to explore the woods around our farm.”

  “Oh.”

  She turned to the left and strode down a tight and twisty path. “I missed this turn the first time I hiked up here.”

  Bushes and leaves scraped along Luke’s legs. Briars grabbed his shorts and T-shirt. “Are you sure this is a path?”

  “Yeah, it opens up at the end.”

  As he navigated through the brush, he hoped there wasn’t any poison ivy in here. Something about leaves of three –

  “Here we are.” Megan stepped aside.

  Farm fields stretched across the valley like a green sea. “Wow. I can see Hersheypark and the hospital.” He stepped onto the rocky outcropping.

  “Be careful there’s a steep drop-off.” Megan warned.

  Luke leaned over, peering down. A narrow ledge jutted about ten feet below, but then nothing until the tops of trees at the bottom. Good thing he wasn’t afraid of heights. “The view is epic.”

  “Told you.”

  They returned to their bikes.

  “Maybe the next time you go…er…exploring, you could take me along,” Luke said.

  “Sure.” Megan hopped onto her bike.

  “And I’ll find out where that Rails-to-Trails thing is for you.”

  “Great.” She peddled off.

  Luke followed.

  Willajean was waiting for them. “We’re going to do a quick training session for these three young dogs. Luke, you work with Hazel, and Megan can deal with Tanner.”

  Luke and Megan moved to stand next to the dogs.

  “Doggie manners ar
e very important,” Willajean said. “We’ll start with sit.” She held out a treat. “Easiest way to get a dog to sit is to hold a treat above her nose. Once you have her attention, move it back toward her tail. She’ll back up, but eventually she’ll sit. And when she does, say sit with a commanding tone. Then give her the treat.”

  Willajean demonstrated with Jackson, a white papillon. It looked easy.

  “Another way is to push the dog’s back end down, say sit, then give the treat. The key is repetition and praise. Your tone helps as well. A wimpy sit or a pleading sit or one that sounds like all the other words you say won’t work. The dog’ll just ignore you.” She handed treats to Luke and Megan. “All right, you try.”

  Luke worked with Hazel, a tan bloodhound. She kept jumping up, trying to snatch the treat from his hand.

  “Push her down and say off. When she stays down, praise her. It might take a few times. Some dogs are smarter than others.”

  “Sit,” Megan ordered Tanner.

  His tail hit the ground.

  Willajean laughed. “Tanner loves food. He’ll do anything for a treat.”

  After two hours, all three dogs had learned how to sit. Megan took them down to the kennel. Luke walked to the sunroom to visit the puppies again.

  Willajean changed the soiled towels in Lady’s whelping box for clean ones. “I have buyers for five of the bloodhounds. And that leaves one for me and the other for you.” Willajean stuffed the pile of dirty towels into a laundry basket.

  Luke leaned over Lady’s box, watching the pups. “Willajean?”

  “Yes?”

  “Could I have one of Lady’s pups instead?”

  No reply. Too afraid to glance at her, Luke’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he waited.

  “I don’t have a problem with that. But” – she paused – “you’ll have to get permission from your father.”

  Relief mixed with fear. What if Dad freaked? Luke gnawed on his lip, but decided to go ahead with his plan anyway. Grinning, he scratched Lady behind the ears. “Do you know any papillon websites?”

  Willajean huffed. “Wait here.” She returned with two books on papillons and handed them to him. “These are better than a website. You can borrow them.”

  “Thanks.” He flipped through the pages. Once he was an expert in all things papillon, he’d talk to Dad.

  Luke spent that night and the next studying the books. At one point he had to laugh. He hadn’t studied this hard for any of his classes at school. To help him remember, he wrote a list of pros and cons for owning a papillon. Mom would be proud.

  Pros: friendly, intelligent, learns fast, adventurous, steady, obedient, not yappy, strong instinct to protect, loves to cuddle, loves outdoor exercise.

  Cons: can be possessive of owner, resents outsiders, could also get small-dog syndrome if papillon believes she’s the pack leader of the house.

  Small-dog syndrome: nervous, high-strung, timid, snapping, biting, barking, and separation anxiety.

  Luke reviewed his list. Not bad. The pros far outweighed the cons. And as long as the dog didn’t think she was in charge, they could avoid the small-dog syndrome. Soon he’d have enough information to talk to Dad.

  When he arrived home on Wednesday, Grandmom said that Dad would be coming home very late, so they’d see him in the morning.

  Luke fell asleep with his book resting on his chest and his bedside lamp on. The shrill ring of the phone woke him. He sat up confused. The book slammed to the floor. Who’d turned off his light?

  The second ring cut off in midway. Curious about who would call the house phone at four in the morning, Luke padded downstairs.

  Phone to his ear, Dad stared out the kitchen window. A suitcase lay on the floor next to the door. He must have just gotten in.

  “That’s great. I was worried. I’m glad they saved his leg. How’s the other little boy?” Dad asked. “Oh, no. Lousy officials with their lousy regulations. They killed that boy. I know, I know. Okay, call me tomorrow. My cell phone should be charged by then. Thanks. Bye.” After hanging up, Dad reached up and opened the cabinet above the refrigerator. He pulled out a dark brown bottle and poured a drink.

  A bad rescue.

  Dad never drank the hard stuff except when upset. He drank himself to sleep every night for two months after Mom died. And when he’d returned from Japan after the earthquake.

  Dad grunted when he noticed Luke in the doorway. “Thought the phone would wake you. Your brothers would sleep through a tornado.” Slumping in one of the kitchen chairs, he gestured for Luke to join him. Then he took a long pull from his glass. The lines on his face drooped like a bloodhound’s ears.

  “The world is full of idiots,” he said to Luke. “Twenty kids lost in the woods for a week. Squadrons of men marching and searching in the wrong direction for six days.” He took another gulp. “Finally, they call in dog teams. After six days.” He waved six fingers in the air.

  “They’d filled the woods with their stench, so it took us a couple days to determine their search area was way off beam. After that it took only a day to find those boys.” He slammed his glass on the table. Squinting at Luke as if he were actually seeing him for the first time, Dad lowered his voice. “They were in bad shape. Starving, thirsty, a couple kids with sprained ankles. One kid had fallen off a cliff and busted his leg. Kids your age.” Dad swallowed hard, his eyes welling with tears. “One boy didn’t make it. If they’d called in the dogs right away, Ranger would have found them before their first hunger pangs. Idiots.” His father drained the glass and poured himself another drink.

  Luke sat as still as a rabbit caught in Hounddog’s teeth. Normally Dad never talked about the searches that ended badly.

  As if reading his mind, Dad said, “Luke, I’m telling you this for a very important reason. You might not want to do search and rescue with your dog, but think about it. The more qualified teams there are, the better. Jacob and Scott will soon be able to help me. Even if you don’t train your dog, we can breed her with Ranger, and maybe she’ll whelp smart puppies that can be trained for search and rescue.”

  His father’s face sagged, and dark circles of exhaustion hung under his eyes.

  Blinking several times as if trying to hold back tears, Dad said, “Someday, when he’s too old to run up mountains hot on the scent, I’ll have to replace Ranger.”

  Luke hunkered down in his chair, crushed by grief and unable to breathe. Dad loved his dog almost as much as he loved Mom. She’d teased Dad about it all the time. He’d smile and laugh, but never deny it.

  “I’m tired.” Dad rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I’m going to bed.” Setting his glass in the sink, he grabbed his suitcase and headed upstairs.

  Luke sat in the kitchen for a long time. Had his dad checked in on him and seen the papillon book? Someone had turned off his light, but that seemed more of a grandmom thing. Either way, how could he ask for a papillon now?

  Dad had good reasons, too. Getting a papillon was like buying a candy bar. Luke might want it with all his heart, but he didn’t need it to survive. It’d be selfish to own a dog just because Mom had thought a papillon would be perfect for Luke. After all, she wouldn’t be dis-appointed in him for giving into Dad. Right?

  When the sky lightened, Luke dragged himself to bed and slept until noon.

  Later on Thursday afternoon, Luke biked slowly to Willajean’s. He decided to do the mature thing and get a bloodhound. Determined to at least fake a positive attitude, he parked his bike next to the training area.

  He hopped over the fence, then stopped short. Working next to Megan was another girl. And not just some ordinary farm girl. This girl’s hair was styled, her clothes matched, and she wore makeup. The teenager stood out amid the dogs and training equipment like a pampered poodle in a group of junkyard hounds.

>   She thrust a harness into Megan’s arms, shrilling an order. When Megan failed to respond, the new girl turned to see what had Megan’s attention.

  “Who’s that?” Her fire-red lips twisted into a sneer.

  “That’s Luke.” Megan waved him over. “Luke, this is my sister, Alayna.”

  “Hey,” he said.

  Alayna eyed his ripped shorts and stained T-shirt. She squinted and gave him a pained smile. “Didn’t my mother call you?” She spoke as if he were dimwitted.

  “About what?” His good mood dissolved under Alayna’s icy stare.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m working here now,” she said slowly. “Mother doesn’t need your help anymore.” Alayna sighed dramatically at his confusion. “Go home.” She waved painted fingernails in the direction of his bike. “You’re fired.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Serial Killer from the Sky

  Alayna’s words shocked him speechless.

  “Don’t listen to her, Luke,” Megan said. “Mom told her she can work here temporarily until she finds another job. You’re not fired.”

  The blockage in his throat eased slightly at Megan’s words, but Alayna had set her jaw in a determined – or maybe calculating – line. Luke couldn’t be sure.

  “I plan to stay,” she said. Once again she appraised him with her gaze. Her painted fingernails seemed to elongate and curve into claws. A cunning cat among friendly dogs, she was likely to scratch without notice. “He won’t last.”

  Before Luke or Megan could reply, Willajean swept into the training yard. She issued instructions with her usual no-nonsense attitude, starting the afternoon’s session. When the drills were set up, Willajean let the three of them work the dogs as she headed back toward the house.