by Kate Klise
I looked at his clean design and clear message. It was so much better than my show-offy posters with the Latin words.
“That’s really good, Melvin,” I said. “Wanted.”
“Wanted sounds like you’re looking for a criminal,” Teddy said, without looking up from his work.
Melvin was drawing a black border around his poster. “It’s the word everyone who runs away wants to hear.”
“Wanted?” I said.
“You’re wanted,” Melvin explained. “Please come home.”
What I learned from that:
Sometimes all you can do for a friend who’s sad is hope with him that life gets better.
SEVENTEEN
Her Name Is Lotty
The next day, Teddy and I put the posters up all over Forest Park. We duct-taped them to utility poles, park benches, recycling bins, and inside the stalls of public restrooms. I even taped a poster to the front of my knee scooter.
“This will definitely get a response,” Teddy said. “We just have to wait for the call.”
So we waited. No one called or texted the first day.
No one called or texted the second day.
No one called or texted the third day, which was a Friday and the last day of July.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” I told Teddy. “That’s the day most people go to the park. Maybe we should go, too. We could ask people if they’ve seen Lotty.”
“Maybe,” Teddy said glumly. “Or maybe we should just give up.”
He had started to look like a turtle, all hunched over and with a permanent frown on his face.
“You can give up if you want,” I said. “I’m not giving up.”
But on Saturday morning, when I awoke to the sound of heavy rain and thunder, I realized no one would be going to the park that day. And even if they did, our posters would be ruined.
That’s when I gave up.
I never should’ve told Teddy I’d seen Lotty in the park. I didn’t mean to, but I had broken his heart a second time. An hour later, I felt sick to my stomach as I pushed my weekend waffle around my syrupy plate.
“That right there is the best waffle I’ve made all year,” Dad said. “And you’re not eating it. Would a sliced banana on top help? Whipped cream?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Just then the phone rang. It was Teddy.
“I got a text,” he said breathlessly. “Can you meet me outside in five minutes? Bring Winthrop—and an umbrella.”
I wolfed down my waffle in three bites.
Teddy had memorized the text by the time I got outside. He recited it, under an umbrella, while I read it on his phone.
Saw your poster in the park. My neighbors adopted an Irish setter. Looks like your dog. Address is 1801 Costello Ave.
“Costello Avenue is only five minutes away,” I said. “Come on. We’re going!”
Teddy carried my umbrella over his head while he reread the text message aloud. “Looks like your dog,” he kept saying. “That means Lotty.”
Winthrop barked when he heard Lotty’s name. I just tried to keep up with them on my knee scooter while trying not to think what Dr. Ames would say if he saw my cast getting wet in the rain. I wished I had a cape like Sherlock Holmes—or even the plastic rain poncho that was hanging in the coat closet at home.
But there was no turning back now. Our mission was in motion.
* * *
The house was a red-brick bungalow with a covered porch. I was hoping Lotty would be outside with the girl I’d seen in the park, but that would’ve been too easy. We were going to have to knock.
“Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive,” Teddy chanted as we walked up the wet porch steps.
I prayed silently. Please be alive and please be Lotty. I was glad Winthrop was with us. He would know immediately if the dog in question was his best friend.
Teddy knocked quietly on the door. No one answered.
“Knock harder,” I said. “You’ve got to be louder than the rain.”
“I don’t want to be rude,” he whispered. “Maybe they’re not home.”
I noticed a black metal doorbell and pushed it. An old-fashioned buzzer sounded, followed by the sound of a dog barking.
“That’s her!” Teddy said. “That’s Lotty! I’m sure it’s her! One hundred percent sure!”
“Shhhhh,” I said. “Someone’s coming.”
A girl opened the heavy door. It was the same girl I’d seen in the park. An Irish setter was by her side. We were separated by a screen door so it was hard to see inside, but Winthrop started barking immediately. He was as convinced as Teddy.
“Lotty!” Teddy cried.
I kicked Teddy with my good foot and spoke directly to the girl. “Um, hello. We’re sorry to bother you. We wanted to talk about that dog.”
“What about my dog?” the girl asked, not opening the screen door.
“Well, the thing is,” Teddy began happily, “she’s actually my dog. Her name is Lotty.”
“Her name,” said the girl, “is Lucy. And she’s my dog. We adopted her from Gateway Shelter. They said someone brought her in off the street. She wasn’t wearing a collar.”
“That’s because our vet took it off,” Teddy said. “It’s a long story, but basically what happened was—”
“I wanted an Irish setter puppy,” the girl interrupted. “But they didn’t have any at the shelter. All they had was this dog, who isn’t very good.”
Teddy looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. “What do you mean Lotty’s not very good?”
“Her name is Lucy,” the girl said. “And she’s not very good at all. She just lies around all day, like she’s a hundred years old.”
Lotty was breathing heavily, like she was in pain.
“Lotty?” Teddy said, bending down to look at her through the screen door. “Are you okay?” He stood up again and spoke to the girl at eye level. “Can I pet her?”
The girl heaved a sigh as she pushed open the screen door and pulled Lotty out by the collar onto the porch.
Winthrop’s tail wagged frantically at the sight of his old friend. He couldn’t resist a curious sniff. But Lotty didn’t sniff back. She let out a whine and collapsed in a heap of fur.
The girl sighed again, this time more dramatically. “See what I mean? I had no idea a dog could be this … blah.”
“Oh, Lotty,” said Teddy, falling to his knees and petting her. “Poor Lotty.”
Lotty lifted her head to look at Teddy with sad, wet eyes. Then she dropped her chin to the porch floor.
And that’s when it happened. Lotty puked.
“She’s been doing that all day,” the girl grumped. “This is why I wanted a puppy. Puppies pee, but they don’t puke. I’ve never seen a dog as lazy and pukey as Lucy.”
“Her name is Lotty,” Teddy cried. “And she has canine leukemia, okay? So can you cut her a little slack? Just a little slack? Because she probably doesn’t have long to live. In fact, she could die today, right now, and she probably will die if you keep saying hateful things in front of her. Yes, she’ll probably die, just like you’re going to die someday, and I’m going to die someday, and everyone’s going to…”
I bent down to look at Lotty. Her eyes were rolled back. She was panting heavily. Then she started moaning.
“Teddy,” I said, “I don’t think Lotty’s going to die today. But I think she might be … Oh, wow. Yep. She really might be going to … Whoa … Oh, jeez … Yeah, I’d say she’s definitely going to—”
“Puppies!” the girl cried. “Lucy’s having puppies!”
Teddy was too shocked to correct the girl. He stared at Lotty in slack-jawed awe. Then he handed me his phone.
“Call Dr. Juniper.”
What I learned from that:
Some things are impossible to explain in a phone call.
EIGHTEEN
Just Like That
It turned out Lotty didn’t have canine leukemia after all. What she
had was four puppies.
Back in June, Dr. Juniper had mixed up Lotty’s blood work with the other dog whose family thought she was expecting puppies. That dog—not Lotty—had tested positive for canine leukemia. Lotty was in the early days of pregnancy.
“I think this means it’s time for me to retire,” Dr. Juniper said.
“Please keep your eyes on the road,” Teddy said. “We can talk about retirement later.”
Dr. Juniper was driving us back to Teddy’s house. I was sitting in the front seat with Dr. Juniper. Teddy was in the backseat with Lotty. The new mother was resting in a soft crate with her four squiggly puppies. They were caramel-colored with shiny black noses.
The girl who lived on Costello Avenue—her name was Chloe—was happy to give Lotty back to Teddy, as long as he agreed to give her one of the puppies when they were old enough to be separated from Lotty.
I turned around from the front seat. “Should we see if Melvin wants one of the other puppies?”
“Definitely,” said Teddy. “You might have to talk Mrs. Seifert into it. Tell her if there were a Cute Puppy Olympics—and why isn’t there one, by the way?—these four puppies would all win gold medals.”
I laughed. I knew Melvin would love a puppy, and it wouldn’t be hard to convince Mrs. Seifert, given her love of dogs.
Dr. Juniper parked in front of Teddy’s apartment building. “I’ll help you get the dogs inside. I owe your family an explanation.”
“Come on up,” Teddy said. “We’re on the fourth floor. Are you coming, too, Ives?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not up for all those stairs. Plus, I need to dry out my cast with a hair dryer.”
Both things were true, but I also couldn’t wait to get home and tell my parents the good news.
* * *
“Teddy got Lotty back?” Dad asked, an hour later when he came home from work. “Just like that?”
“Not just like that,” Mom said. “Just like that.” She was pointing at me. “Ivy tracked down Lotty like an old-fashioned detective.”
“It was a group project,” I said. “Melvin Moss had the idea to make posters.”
Mom turned to Dad. “Diane Samuelson called and told me the whole story. It might’ve been a group effort, but Ivy was the mastermind.”
Mastermind. It was the word Teddy and I had used to describe Mr. Hobart. It reminded me of the apology letter I’d written, and my promise to be a better neighbor.
I told Mom and Dad about Lotty’s four puppies.
“Dr. Juniper said they need to stay with Lotty for eight weeks. Then they can go to their new homes. Chloe is getting one. Melvin’s getting one. Teddy’s family is keeping one.”
“That leaves one puppy,” Dad said with a sly smile.
Mom lifted an eyebrow. “Puppies are a whole lot of work.”
“They’re a whole lot of cuteness, too,” I said.
“I don’t think you remember when Winthrop was a puppy,” Mom said. “We had to teach him everything.”
“I know,” I said. “But it was worth it. Can you imagine our family without Winthrop?”
Hearing his name, Winthrop woke up and sauntered over to where I was sitting. He flopped down in front of me, resting his head on my foot.
“I vote in favor of a puppy,” Dad said.
Mom’s skeptical face shifted into a reluctant smile. “I guess I vote for a puppy, too.”
I took a breath. I had to say it fast before I changed my mind.
“I was thinking maybe we could give the puppy to Mr. Hobart. I could walk the puppy before and after school, when I walk Winthrop. Don’t you think a puppy would be good for Mr. Hobart?”
Mom put her index finger to her lips. “I think,” she said in a quivery voice, “a puppy would be wonderful for Mr. Hobart, if you’re willing to help him take care of it.”
“I am,” I said. “I’ll do everything—feeding, walking, brushing.”
“Well, one thing is clear,” Dad said. “We need to find a new vet. We’re not going back to Dr. Juniper, that’s for sure.”
“Tomorrow,” Mom said. “We’ll look for a new vet tomorrow. Right now I want to bask in the pride I feel for our girl.”
What I learned from that:
I wish I could bottle what it feels like to make my parents proud. I’d take a sip of it every day.
NINETEEN
Boy Wins Lottery—Twice
A reporter for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch found out what happened and called Teddy’s family to set up an interview. The article, which included a photo of Teddy with Lotty and the puppies, ran ten days later on the front page of the newspaper. The headline used Lotty’s full name.
BOY CLAIMS HE WON LOTTERY TWICE
(VET SAYS LOTTERY WON BOY)
In the article, Dr. Juniper told the whole story about the mix-up with the lab work and how Lotty had escaped from her office. She also announced her retirement.
Teddy ran over to my house with the paper. “Did you see the story in the newspaper?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a great picture of you!”
“Not that story. This story.”
He opened the newspaper and showed me an article at the top of page five.
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH • TUESDAY, AUGUST 11
CRIME WAVE OVER, SAYS POLICE CHIEF
ST. LOUIS—St. Louis Police Chief Sam MacPherson says residents can take comfort that a recent crime wave has been solved.
Two men, Jason Pipley and Josiah Callin, were arrested and charged yesterday on two counts of burglary. The first incident took place in June on Magnolia Circle when the men allegedly posed as sofa deliverymen. The second burglary on Washington Avenue occurred less than a week later when the same men allegedly repeated the crime. In both cases, authorities say a ten-year-old runaway boy hidden in a sofa crawled out from a secret compartment and stole money and jewelry from the apartments.
“We’re not revealing the name of the boy, for his protection,” said Police Chief MacPherson. “But we couldn’t have solved these crimes without him. He came forward voluntarily and explained his role in the burglaries. He said Pipley and Callin approached him at a downtown homeless shelter and said they’d turn him over to authorities if he didn’t act as an accomplice.”
MacPherson said the runaway boy will face no legal consequences for his participation in the crimes. “We’re trying to find a long-term foster home for the boy. The situation he’s in now is temporary.”
According to MacPherson, St. Louis residents should always be on alert for anything that seems unusual in their neighborhood.
“The tried-and-true advice holds,” said MacPherson. “If you see something, say something. You could be saving a neighbor’s favorite pearl necklace or a runaway child’s life.”
“We should frame this for Melvin,” I said.
“That’s a great idea,” said Teddy. He was looking at the newspaper and frowning. “I just wish it had a picture of Melvin.”
“They can’t show his picture. Those two thugs have friends who would hurt Melvin for talking to the police.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Teddy said. He folded the newspaper carefully. “So, Ives, I have some great news.”
“Tell me.”
“Well,” he began, “you know how the article says Melvin’s living situation is temporary? That’s because Mrs. Seifert and her husband can’t keep Melvin past October.”
“Why not?”
“They’re not certified to be foster parents. But guess who might be in a few weeks.”
“Who?”
“My parents,” said Teddy. “Daphne’s leaving for college in a week, so Melvin can have her room. We’ll be his foster family until his mom gets out of rehab.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Yeah,” said Teddy. “My parents have to fill out a bunch of paperwork. Then someone has to come inspect our apartment. But the social worker said it’s ninety-nine percent a sure thing.”
“Wow. That’
s fantastic.”
Somehow it didn’t feel fantastic to me. Melvin Moss had always been in my homeroom. He was my friend before he was Teddy’s friend. We were Trojan War project partners—for one day, anyway. If Melvin Moss was going to live in anyone’s house, he should live in my house.
After a few hours, the jealous feeling passed. Of course Melvin should live with Teddy’s family. It made sense.
But Melvin didn’t end up needing Daphne’s room. We found out a few days later that Melvin’s mom was scheduled to be released in October from the drug rehab clinic.
Melvin was going home—with a puppy.
What I learned from that:
Corny as it sounds, there’s no place like home.
TWENTY
I Love Stairs
When the piano arrived on Friday morning, Dad was practically jumping out of his skin with excitement.
“After I learn how to play,” he said, “I’m going to learn how to compose music. I want to write some modern ragtime tunes. Hey, maybe I’ll compose the ‘Magnolia Circle Rag.’”
“In the meantime,” Mom said, “are you free to join Ivy and me? We have an appointment with Dr. Ames.”
“Sure,” said Dad.
So we went as a family—Mom, Dad, and me. A technician removed my cast so I could have another round of X-rays. Then we waited in an examining room.
“Good, good, good,” Dr. Ames said as he strode into the room. “I see you’ve brought the whole family to your graduation.”
“Graduation?” I said.
“That’s what I call it,” Dr. Ames replied. “You’ve put in the hard work of recovery. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I hope you found a way to make the most of your time.”
“Did she ever!” Dad said. He spent the next five minutes bragging to Dr. Ames about how I’d “rescued” Melvin Moss and tracked down Lotty “like an old-fashioned detective.” (I had finally come clean and told my parents all the details about both cases, once the investigations had been successfully completed.)