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  I guess I am baby-obsessed because Kendall, the mom of the triplets I watch after school, is pregnant! My nana immediately said, “How many kids are in there this time?” which my mom said was “crude and tactless,” but then my mom wanted to know too, and this time the answer is only one, a girl, that is due soon, and they are naming her Piper.

  If I ever have a baby, I am going to name her either Jane or Mary.

  Speaking of Arlo, Mia, and Levi (the triplets—now age four), they were super good right after I got home from Santa Barbara, where I went after camp to stay with my Aunt Freda, because they (the triplets) really missed me, Kendall said, but now they are back to being their normal bad selves. Even so, I love them a bunch, and I think I would be bored and sad if I didn’t get to watch them.

  Change of topic: For two days, my family actually owned a computer. It was Officer Leonard’s old one. (Officer Leonard is my mom’s boyfriend. You might remember he gave my mom and me a ride on the first day of camp.) I was excited about communicating with my fellow humans on Planet Earth, but then the computer died. Its death is still a mystery, but Officer Leonard said he will investigate.

  My mom and I call this The Case of the Computer’s Untimely Demise.

  Officer Leonard and my mom have been together for more than three months, which is approaching a record for my mom. Having a cop around has been weird but also sort of good. Here is something I have learned: Most people who lie to the police are bad at it, and the police hear the same lies over and over.

  Moral of the story: Do not lie to the police.

  In school I still like art, and I still have Mrs. Coatrak and she still thinks I’m great, so it’s nice that somebody does besides Aunt Freda, and Arlo, Mia, and Levi.

  Oh, and here is some other news. My father has resurfaced. He is staying with my aunt Freda in Santa Barbara and says he wants to come for a visit. Stay tuned.

  Now write to me and tell me what is going on in your life, and if there is a problem (I hope not!), I will send cookies to fix it, and if there is not a problem (I hope so!), then I will just send cookies.

  So either way: cookies!

  Love ya lots

  —Lucy

  P.S. If you are still friends with Vivek on Facebook, would you mind telling me what you know about the baby?

  When I finished Lucy’s letter and laid it in my lap my emotions were all helter-skelter. I didn’t read it again. I took a deep breath, folded it neatly, and returned it to the envelope.

  The letter hadn’t said much about camp, but still it brought back camp memories. I imagined riding my horse, Katinka, in the hot Arizona sun, settling into my narrow bunk with the thin mattress at night, listening to the clear, loud sound of the bell that woke us every morning.

  Now that summer was over, camp felt like a stretched-out perfect time without one problem. I knew in my head that this was not accurate. In fact, the summer had included drama, annoyance, and even (for a few minutes) fear. But in my heart that was nothing compared with what was good.

  Also, what could possibly be more scary or annoying than taking care of a too-furry pony-size dog?

  So that was one feeling. But another feeling was annoyance. Because, seriously, Lucy? Did you really have to bring up Vivek?

  What did I care about some new baby? (I knew it was a sister. I had never unfriended him on Facebook.)

  What did I care about Vivek at all?

  I wondered if Lucy knew that a long time ago I used to worry that Vivek liked her better than me. Probably she didn’t know. It would have been mean to bring him up at all if she did, and Lucy isn’t mean.

  In fact, that was the third feeling. The letter reminded me how I really missed her and wished she were here. Since her family situation is unusual, she is more used to being on her own than most kids I know. Lucy would never be freaked out by taking care of a dog, even a dog as big as King.

  All afternoon I had been wishing my dad had forbidden me taking care of him. Then I could have gone to Shoshi to say so, and I would have been off the hook, and it wouldn’t have been my fault.

  But my dad had said the decision was mine. And so I was really stuck.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Grace

  All day Friday, my stomach worried about King. I hardly even ate lunch. After school, my mom was picking me up, so Shoshi and I walked down the corridor and out the school doors together.

  “Do you have any last-minute questions?” Shoshi asked. “I hope we didn’t forget anything.”

  “I hope so too,” I said.

  “Anyway, my mom left you a note with phone numbers. So if you need anything, you can call,” she said. “Even though we’re going to be kind of out in the woods, I think there will be cell reception.”

  “Wait—there might not be?” I said.

  By this time, we had made our way down the hall and out the door and to the curb in the school parking lot where the parents wait for kids. Shoshi’s family was there in their minivan, and my mom was right behind them in ours. Mrs. Rubinstein rolled down the window and waved me over.

  “We walked King right before we left,” she said. “He should be good for a few hours. We can’t thank you enough, Grace. It’s such a relief to know someone so conscientious is taking care of him.”

  Mrs. Rubinstein smiled so sincerely that I felt bad I’d had reluctant thoughts. “It’s okay. Have a very nice trip,” I said, and waved to Shoshi’s dad in the driver’s seat and to her sister, who was in back in a private earbud world.

  When I got in next to my mom, she wanted to know if she should take me over to the Rubinsteins’ immediately so I could get dog walking over with.

  I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t work like that, Mom. Mrs. Rubinstein just walked him. I will walk him again after dinner.”

  “In the dark?” My mother was horrified.

  “Mom, we live in the safest neighborhood in Massachusetts,” I said. “Shoshi walks him herself all the time. Besides, he’s very protective.”

  “Your father is going with you,” Mom said, “and that’s final.”

  * * *

  I thought of many excuses to put off walking King after dinner, but at last my father had to insist because he was almost ready to “retire for the night.”

  “Thank you for coming with me,” I said as we were putting on our jackets.

  “Do you want to drive?” my dad asked.

  “That’s crazy,” I said. “It’s four blocks. Anyway, driving is bad for the climate.”

  My dad shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said.

  As soon as we turned the corner onto the Rubinsteins’ block, I could hear King barking. He has a big bark to match his big self.

  My father stopped walking. “Is that—” He looked at me warily.

  I tugged his arm to get him moving. “Yes.”

  “He sounds as though he wants to eat us,” my father said.

  “You can wait outside,” I said.

  “What kind of father would I be if I sent my only child in there alone?”

  Together we advanced onto the Rubinsteins’ front porch. On his side of the door, King was in a frenzy—barking and jumping, his toenails click-scratching the wood. With every thump, my father flinched, and his fear made me scared. I knew how King behaved when Shoshi’s family was home. But what if he was different when they weren’t?

  I couldn’t turn back, though. I pretended to be brave for my father’s sake.

  “I’m going in,” I announced.

  “I will wait on the porch,” my father said.

  “What happened to how you’re a bad dad if you don’t come with me?” I asked.

  “Someone has to be ready to call nine-one-one,” he said.

  I said, “Very funny,” hoping it was a joke. Then I pushed the door open.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Grace

  King did not act different with the Rubinsteins gone. He was the same amount crazy as ever. The second I stepped in the door, he transformed from fearso
me beast to lonely pal and overwhelmed me with affection.

  “Okay, okay, King. Good dog. Glad to see you too,” I said. “I’d wag my tail if I had one. Bleah—enough with the kisses! Come on, let’s get ready to go.”

  King’s leash was hanging on a hook in the hall closet. Corralling him and clipping it to his collar took a minute, but finally he was ready, and then he lunged to be free. He had been cooped up inside since three o’clock—more than five hours. If I had to go to the bathroom that badly, I guess I might lunge, too.

  King ignored my dad on the porch, and shot right by him through the yard and out to the sidewalk—dragging me behind.

  “Wait up!” my dad called, and he hustled along to catch us.

  After watering a patch of grass by the street, King slowed down to a gallop. My father is normally a slow walker, so he had to work to keep up. King has very long legs, and Shoshi’s family is taller than mine. It probably drove the poor dog crazy to be held back by such slowpokes.

  On the trial walk when I visited on Thursday, I had noticed that King zigzags down the sidewalk, sniffing this fencepost or that bush with great urgency.

  “Shoshi says it’s his way of checking Facebook,” I explained. “He’s getting status updates from his friends.”

  My dad nodded, as if accepting this as scientific fact. “So when he lifts his leg, that’s the same as a ‘like,’ ” he said.

  “Yes, that must be right. Good thinking, Dad.”

  King’s walk that night did not last long. Throughout it, I said to myself: Just make sure he doesn’t escape, and don’t let him eat anything bad. Simple, right?

  Mrs. Rubinstein had told me ten minutes was enough, as long as he got a longer walk on Saturday morning. When we got back to the Rubinsteins’ house, my dad came inside too. He had never been there before. I have been best friends with Shoshi for a year, but my parents hardly know her parents at all. I unclipped King’s leash from his collar and put the leash away. Then I went into the kitchen to read the note Shoshi’s mom had left for me.

  Meanwhile, my dad was exploring. “They have quite an old TV, ” he observed.

  “Da-a-a-ad!” I said.

  “Of course,” he continued, “they do have a son in college and two other children as well. Plus that dog probably costs a lot of money to feed. What do Shoshi’s parents do for their professions, Grace?”

  “Mr. Rubinstein is a lawyer, and Mrs. Rubinstein works for a nonprofit. But she only works part-time.”

  “Ah,” said my father. “Now I understand.”

  “Understand what?” I said. King was following me around. The note from Shoshi’s mom only had phone numbers and “Good luck” on it. I kind of wished they’d stop saying, “Good luck!” It seemed like they were afraid I was going to need it, which did not exactly make me feel confident.

  “Why they live like they do,” my dad said. “The old TV. The worn carpeting. They have too many expenses and not enough income. I hope they are saving adequately for retirement.”

  “For goodness’ sake, Dad,” I said. “It is none of your business, and the Rubinsteins are nice.”

  I got a puppy treat out of the canister on the kitchen counter. King was whining and wagging his tail he was so excited about the puppy treat. You would have thought he was starving. “Good dog. Here you go. See you tomorrow. Sleep tight,” I said.

  I was hoping the treat would distract King from our leaving, but it occupied him for less than a second. When I looked back before I closed the door, he was watching my dad and me with big lonely eyes. Poor guy. He was used to noise and people around all the time. This must be strange for him.

  As we walked home, I lectured my dad. “Shoshi is my best friend. Not everyone has to make a lot of money or work all the time or have the best TV. ”

  “Their refrigerator was old too,” my dad persisted.

  “Some people would say you and Mom shouldn’t work so much,” I said.

  At that my father hesitated a half step. He was surprised. “But your mother and I always come to your recitals,” he said.

  “I wasn’t talking about me,” I said. “You should have a hobby. You should read more. You and Mom should go to the movies.” I would never have said these things except I was annoyed by my father’s comments about Shoshi’s house.

  “I don’t know anything but work, Grace. Maybe it is all I am good for,” Dad said.

  Now I felt terrible. I hadn’t meant to say anything mean.

  It was dark and there are no streetlights in our neighborhood. I couldn’t see my dad’s face, but when he spoke, he sounded sad, and for some reason I thought of King’s big eyes.

  “You’re good at being a dad,” I said. I took his hand, something I probably hadn’t done since I needed help crossing the street. “You were ready to protect me from the big vicious beast.”

  “That is true,” my dad said. “Do you really think I need a hobby? What hobby would I choose?”

  “I will have to think about that,” I said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Grace

  It was seven fifteen when I went downstairs the next morning. I grabbed a Pop-Tart for strength, wrote a note to remind my parents where I was, and headed out the door. I would take King for a long walk now and a shorter one later on.

  By now maybe King knew the sound of my footsteps, or else he could smell me through the door. Whatever it was, he only barked once—more like a hello yelp—as I came up the walk. King must be a fast learner, I thought. I’m a fast learner too.

  When I opened the Rubinsteins’ door, I was greeted with a rush of tail-wagging joy. It was a lot of enthusiasm to take in so early in the morning, but after the first shock it felt good. Is this why people have dogs?

  The day was clear and sunny, but the nighttime coolness lingered. I was glad I’d put on my red MIT sweatshirt. MIT stands for Massachusetts Institute of Technology. That’s where my parents want me to go to college.

  King was thrilled to be outside and made frequent stops to check Facebook.

  A cat ran in front of us. King tugged and barked. A rabbit ran across a yard, and King tugged and barked again. We passed a dead crow in the street, and King showed an interest I thought was unhealthy. Then Mr. Hackman came around the corner with his little white poodle, and King got very excited.

  Uh-oh, I thought. Does that poodle come under the Rubinsteins’ heading “foods King is not supposed to eat”? I pulled back on the leash just in case, but Mr. Hackman told me not to worry. “That’s King, isn’t it?” he said. “He and my dog, Bruiser, get along just fine. Are the Rubinsteins out of town?”

  I explained while King bent down and got nose to nose with Bruiser—then nose to other body parts too. It was gross, and my face must have revealed my opinion because Mr. Hackman laughed. “That’s just doggy conversation, Grace. Come on, Bruiser. Enough with the gossip. You have a good day now.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I will.”

  Back at the Rubinsteins’, I looked at the kitchen clock and saw it was almost eight thirty. We had been walking one whole hour!

  * * *

  Before lunch, I went to Chinese class and ballet as usual. Mrs. Lun picks me up from Chinese and Lily’s dad from ballet, so I had said only hi-bye to my parents till my mom and I sat down at the kitchen counter to eat. I had a bologna sandwich on white bread with mayonnaise. She had canned tomato soup.

  “According to your father,” Mom said, “you were very brave with that big dog last night.”

  “I didn’t have to be brave really. He is just enthusiastic, like Shoshi told me. I was worried for nothing,” I said.

  “They should be paying you,” my mom said.

  Not this again! “It’s a favor,” I said. “Doing favors is generous. You’re always telling me I should learn to be generous.”

  “Not that generous,” my mom said.

  “I kind of like walking King,” I said. “I think we should get a dog too. How about a Siberian husky? They are huge a
nd furry.”

  My mother’s eyes got big, and she put down her soup spoon.

  I continued. “A dog would make me more well-rounded. I bet everyone who gets into MIT has one.”

  “Do you really think so, Grace?” my mother asked.

  I laughed. “Mom! I’m teasing! I know you and Dad don’t do pets. But I am telling the truth about King. Walking him isn’t that bad.”

  After lunch, I went back to the Rubinsteins’. This was the walk I was dreading because by now King would definitely need to “do his business,” as Shoshi called it—in other words, poop. The Rubinsteins’ leash had a plastic cylinder attached, and inside it were blue plastic bags especially designed for containing it.

  I wonder if the kids whose parents work in the factories that make these bags are embarrassed on career day when they introduce their parents and say what their jobs are.

  About two blocks from home, King stopped abruptly to sniff and then started circling. “What’s up?” I asked, but I had a feeling I knew, and sure enough, as if he was answering, he squatted.

  “Got it,” I said. Then I looked up at the leaves of the maple trees, which were just beginning to turn red. Even dogs deserve their privacy.

  King tugged at the leash a few moments later, ready to move on as if nothing had happened. I wished I could do that too, but it wouldn’t be conscientious. So many people have dogs that if we all ignored the obvious, the world would soon be heaped in dog poop. So I was a good citizen and bent down and picked up the deposit the way Shoshi had demonstrated, with my hand wrapped in plastic. All the time I held my breath and tried not to think about what I was holding.

  King, meanwhile, looked back quizzically, like what could possibly be taking so long?

  I felt embarrassed to be carrying dog poop after that. I kind of hoped no one would see me. I was thinking of washing my hands, how good the soapy water would feel, when it happened. Strange, huh? A whole disaster resulted from me imagining clean hands.