Honey (3 page)

Drawing lessons started the very next day. Charles and Sammy arrived at the community center with paper, pencils, and erasers. They had also brought along pages and pages of dog jokes, all the ones they had collected so far.

The place was a lot quieter than it had been the night before. Dee and Murphy weren’t there, and neither were any of the other kids who had service dogs. A few middle schoolers were doing homework together at one long table, and two girls giggled together in a corner where a bunch of pink balloons still bobbled.

The boys each grabbed a heart-shaped cookie — party leftovers that had been put out on a plate — and took over one of the other tables.

It turned out that Noah loved jokes as much as they did! He laughed as he read the first few jokes they showed him. Then he told one of his own. “What do you get if you cross a sheepdog with a rose?” he asked.

Charles and Sammy shook their heads.

“A collie-flower!”

All three boys cracked up. “Good one,” said Charles.

“Joke number ninety-nine!” said Sammy.

“Here’s how you could illustrate that joke,” said Noah. He bent over his lap desk and drew a few quick strokes on a piece of paper. Suddenly, the picture came to life and Charles saw a collie’s head coming out of a rosebush!

“How do you
do
that?” Sammy’s eyes were huge.

Noah shrugged. “Try it,” he said. “It’s not so hard. See, first you make a triangle, then put a circle here, then add this oval part and the two triangles that will be his ears. . . .” He drew as
he talked, and another dog began to come to life on the page.

“Slow down!” said Charles, who was scribbling madly on his own paper. “Wait!”

Noah went over it again. “First a triangle, then a circle . . .” He drew more slowly, and Sammy and Charles tried to copy every stroke. But when they’d finished, only one of their drawings actually looked anything like a dog. Noah’s.

Sammy groaned. “I’ll never get it!” he said.

“It just takes practice,” Noah said. “Keep trying. If you do different shapes, you get different dogs. Like, a long oval makes a wiener dog.” Quickly, as if it were nothing, he sketched a dachshund wearing roller skates.

Charles frowned down at his own paper. His circles and triangles and ovals just looked like a mishmash of scribbles, like something the Bean would draw. He sighed and turned the paper over. Then he started again.

“Tell me more about Honey,” Noah said while they drew. He had been really interested the night before when Charles and Sammy had told him about the Petersons’ new foster puppy. “Is her nose black or brown?”

“Black,” said Charles. “And her eyes are really dark brown, so dark they almost look black. And she has these long, dark eyelashes.”

“She sounds pretty.” Noah bent over his drawing.

“She has this big, goofy smile,” added Sammy. “She always looks happy, just like my puppy, Goldie.”

“Honey is smart like Goldie, too,” Charles said. “She’s already learned to pick up after the Bean!” He laughed. “Every time he leaves a sock or a toy somewhere, Honey picks it up and brings it to him. And you should see the size of her paws. They’re huge! Lizzie says that means Honey is going to be even bigger than she already is, when she’s full-grown.”

Charles looked down at his drawing. Another mess. He crumpled up the paper before Noah could even see it, and started over.

Sammy crumpled up his paper, too. “Argh!” He sounded frustrated.

“Relax,” Noah said. “You have to just let it flow naturally.”

“Easy for you to say,” grumbled Sammy. But he took another piece of paper and tried again.

“What else about Honey?” Noah asked.

“When she’s hungry, she goes over and bangs on her food dish,” Charles reported. “It’s hilarious. She bops it with her paw in this certain way so it turns up on its edge, then she pushes it around the kitchen with her nose until somebody feeds her.”

Noah laughed. “Dee tells me stories like that about Murphy, too. He’s such a smartie.”

“Isn’t Murphy the best?” Charles asked.

“He is.” Noah nodded. “Maybe someday I’ll have a service dog like him.”

Suddenly, Sammy put down his pencil. “Hey!” he said. “What if Honey could be your service dog?”

Noah’s mouth fell open. “Wow!” he said. “That would be — just so totally amazing. But — I don’t think I’m old enough.”

“Old enough?” Sammy looked confused. “You’re older than me and Charles, and
we
both have dogs.”

“But, Sammy —” Charles put down his pencil. “Wouldn’t Honey have to get trained and stuff?”

“Sure, but Lizzie could probably do that.” Sammy waved a hand casually. “She knows everything about training dogs.”

Charles remembered when his family had fostered Shadow, a black Lab who was now in training to be a guide dog for a blind person. He knew it was a little more complicated than Sammy was making it sound.

“Plus, didn’t Dee say that the most important part about Murphy was that he was her best friend? Honey could be Noah’s best friend starting
today, without any training at all!” Sammy was really excited now.

Then Noah moved his arm, and Charles’s eye fell on the drawing he’d just finished. “Oh, wow!” He could hardly believe his eyes. Noah had drawn a boy in a wheelchair — a boy who looked just like Noah — with a dog wearing a
SERVICE DOG
vest standing next to him. “How did you do
that
?” Charles asked. “You never even saw Honey, and that dog looks exactly like her!” It did, too. Down to the big paws and the dark eyes and the goofy smile.

Noah shrugged. “You described her, didn’t you? I feel like I already know her.” He tore the picture off his pad and handed it to Charles. “You can have it, if you want.”

That did it. All of Charles’s doubts about Sammy’s idea flew out the window. “You know what?” he asked Noah. “Sammy’s right. You and Honey belong together. We’ll figure out a way to make it happen. I promise!”

“You
what?”
Lizzie glared at Charles. Her arms were crossed and her mouth was a straight line.

Charles looked away, then down at the floor. “I — I promised,” he mumbled. “I promised Noah that Honey could be his service dog.” He had thought Lizzie would be happy. She loved it when they found perfect homes for the puppies they fostered.

Charles had just told Lizzie all about Noah’s drawing, and about how much Noah wanted a service dog of his own. And about how he, Charles, had made a promise he might not be able to keep. Charles didn’t know why, but Noah had seemed to take the promise seriously, even though Charles was only a kid.

Lizzie shook her head in disgust. “What were you thinking? Do you really think it’s that easy? Don’t you remember what we went through with Shadow? Have you gone out of your mind? How disappointed do you think Noah will be if this doesn’t work out?”

Did Lizzie really want him to answer all those questions? Charles didn’t know where to start. By now, he realized that he had probably made a big mistake. But he hadn’t
meant
to. Now he was going to have to tell Noah that it might not work out after all. And there was no way he could avoid Noah. The boys had made plans to go together to a big wheelchair basketball tournament, and it was only two days away.

“I didn’t —” Charles began. He reached down to pet one of Honey’s soft ears. She and Buddy had just been tearing around the living room, and now they were both taking a quick nap between play periods. Honey had laid her head on Charles’s lap and fallen asleep instantly. She was so soft
and warm! Now she lifted her head. She seemed to understand that Charles was upset, and she licked him gently on the cheek.

It’s okay! Don’t worry! Everything will be fine.

Lizzie threw up her hands. “You didn’t think, that’s what.” She sighed. “Honey’s a wonderful dog. But even though she’s almost full-grown, she’s just a puppy. She can’t be anybody’s service dog right now. First she would probably have to spend some time with puppy-raisers — like the Downeys, the family that raised Shadow, remember?”

Charles did remember. The puppy-raisers’ job was to help the puppy grow into a happy dog. Puppy-raisers were supposed to teach puppies their manners and make sure they grew up strong and safe. But hadn’t Honey already been raised pretty well? She might only need a little
more time to grow up with people who cared about her.

Charles kissed the top of Honey’s head. “What if
we
could be Honey’s puppy-raisers?” Charles could just imagine how much fun it would be to play with Honey and Buddy every single day, and to watch Honey grow up into a beautiful big dog like Murphy.

“I doubt that could happen,” Lizzie said, shaking her head. “Anyway, then Honey would have to go to a training center to learn all the things she would have to know in order to be a service dog.” Lizzie crossed her arms again as she went on, interrupting Charles’s daydream. “If she makes it through training — and not all dogs do! — then she would be assigned to someone who needs her and who is ready to take care of a service dog. Could that be Noah? Maybe. But that’s a long, long way off.”

All Charles heard was the “maybe” part. So
there was still a chance! He was not ready to give up on the promise he had made to Noah.

Just then, Mom came into the living room. Charles could hear Dad and the Bean upstairs, getting ready for the Bean’s bath. They were singing the alphabet song. The Bean usually only sang it the regular way through G, then after that he liked to put in whatever letters popped into his mind. So Charles heard, “A, B, C, D, E, F, G!” Then, to the same tune, “T, L, B, C, L, B, C!” The Bean loved C, L, and B, since those were letters that belonged to people in his family.

“What’s going on?” Mom asked. She came right over and sat down on the floor next to Charles, so she could pet Honey. She looked from Lizzie to Charles. “I could hear you guys arguing all the way upstairs.”

“Charles thinks he found a home for Honey —” Lizzie began.

Charles thought he saw Mom’s face fall. But
then she put on a smile. “Really?” she asked. “That’s — that’s great!”

“But he hasn’t!” Lizzie went on. “Charles thinks we could be Honey’s puppy-raisers, then she could go to Noah as a service dog. He just doesn’t understand why that won’t work!”

“I’m not sure I do, either,” said Mom. She leaned over and nuzzled the top of Honey’s head. “I know when we wanted to be Shadow’s puppy-raisers, they told us that you guys were too young. But we’ve fostered so many puppies since then! We have a lot of experience. Maybe they
would
let us be Honey’s puppy-raisers!”

Charles and Lizzie looked at each other. They had not seen Mom fall this hard for a puppy since Buddy had arrived. Mom really wanted to keep Honey around for as long as she could.

“I was thinking we could ask Dee for advice,” said Charles. “You know, Harry’s girlfriend? The one who owns Murphy?”

“Great idea!” Mom agreed.

Lizzie threw up her hands. “Whatever.”

Dee and Harry came over the very next night. It took a little work to get Dee’s wheelchair into the house; the kitchen door was the only one wide enough. Harry and Dad had to lift the wheelchair up the back stairs. Charles had never thought before about how complicated it must be to do everything in a wheelchair.

“I’ve been dying to see Honey again,” Dee said. She patted her lap, and Honey jumped up to put her paws on Dee’s knees.

Hello! I remember you!

Honey didn’t seem afraid of Dee’s wheelchair at all. Dee stroked the puppy’s head gently. Murphy sat next to Dee, as close to her as he could get. His eyes never left her face, even when Buddy batted at his ears and chewed on his chin, trying
to get the big dog’s attention. Meanwhile, the Bean looked at Dee’s wheelchair with big eyes.

Dee smiled at him. “I’ll give you a ride later, how about that?”

“’Kay!” The Bean stuck his finger in his mouth and smiled up at her, shy and excited at the same time.

Charles and Mom took turns explaining about how they were hoping that Honey could become Noah’s service dog, and that they, the Petersons, could be her puppy-raisers.

Dee listened and nodded, her face serious. “It’s a great idea,” she said when they had finished. “And I agree that Honey has a lot of potential. She seems so smart and calm!”

Charles and Mom grinned at each other. But Dee had more to say.

“But there’s one big problem, right from the start. Best Friends requires their service dog owners to be at least twelve years old — and Noah is only ten!”

The day after Dee and Harry came over, Dad drove Sammy and Charles to meet Noah and his dad at the wheelchair basketball game, which was at a big, fancy college gym in Middle City. The place was packed with fans who yelled and clapped and stomped their feet so hard that the wooden bleachers shook.

“This is so cool!” Sammy said.

“Isn’t it?” asked Noah. “I hope I can play like these guys when I’m older.”

“They are incredible athletes,” Dad said, shaking his head. “It’s amazing how they get around. Did you see how that guy managed to pick himself up after his wheelchair went over?”

Charles didn’t say anything. He was trying to
pay attention to the game, but he could not stop thinking about what Dee had said. Or about how he was going to break the bad news to Noah.

The action on the court was almost too fast to follow. Charles could not believe how quick the players were. Pushing their wheels with strong arms, they scooted around the court on their wheelchairs faster than Charles could run! Noah had explained the rules. “The main difference between this and regular basketball is that the players can only touch the wheel of their chairs twice between dribbles, otherwise it’s like traveling in regular basketball. You know, when somebody takes too many steps without bouncing the ball.”

The players had special wheelchairs, very lightweight with special wheels that slanted inward so they could change direction quickly without tipping over. When three guys in wheelchairs surrounded a player with the ball, they could keep him from moving at all! The surrounded
player would have to heave a long pass to one of his teammates.

“Which team are we rooting for?” Sammy asked.

“I know a guy on the green team,” said Noah. “His name’s Justin. He comes over to the community center to coach us sometimes. I have his autograph and everything. That’s him right now with the ball! See? Number twenty-five? Let’s root for them.”

“Go, green!” yelled Sammy, at the very moment that Justin tossed the ball in a high arc toward the basket.

Swish!
The ball fell right through the net.

Sammy jumped to his feet. “Yay, Justin!” he shouted.

“Attaway, green!” yelled Dad.

Noah pounded on the armrests of his wheelchair. His dad threw an arm around him and yelled, “Go, Justin!”

Charles wanted to yell and clap and stomp his
feet, but he couldn’t. He was still having a hard time concentrating on the game. Why? Because he knew he had to let Noah down. Soon he would have to tell Noah that he, Charles, was not going to be able to keep his promise. Honey was not going to be Noah’s service dog after all.

Sure, Dee had said that she would try to think of a solution to the problem. But it was obvious that it was not going to work out. Charles and his family were going to have to find another home for Honey, and Noah was going to have to wait — and wait, and wait! — for a service dog of his own.

Charles felt terrible. And it didn’t make him feel any better that Noah had introduced him to his dad as “Charles, the guy who’s going to get me my own service dog!”

Noah’s dad had grinned and stuck out his hand for a shake. “We’ve missed having a dog in the family,” he said. “I hear this pup you’re caring for is a real good one. Can’t wait to meet her!” Then
he and Noah had told Charles about some of the regular dogs they’d owned in the past. Obviously Noah’s family loved dogs and knew how to care for them. What was so different about a
service
dog? Why couldn’t Noah’s family take care of Honey?

“Yeah!” Noah yelled now. He threw his fist into the air. “Did you see that play? That was an awesome steal!”

Charles had not seen it. He was too busy trying to figure out how he was going to explain things to Noah. Charles was miserable.

At halftime, there was a free-throw contest, open to all kids under the age of fourteen. “Want to try?” Noah asked.

Sammy jumped right up. “I’m in!”

Charles shook his head. “I think I’ll just hang out,” he said.

Noah’s dad and Charles’s dad were talking about the game. Charles sat quietly and watched as Noah rolled his wheelchair out onto the
court and started tossing a ball around with Sammy and Dakota, the girl Charles had met at the community center. Charles remembered Dakota’s service dog, Boomer, a happy black Lab. Noah had drawn some great pictures of Boomer.

Just then, Charles felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, Charles!”

It was Dee, with Harry standing next to her.

“I didn’t know you guys were coming!” said Charles.

“Are you kidding?” Harry asked. “We never miss a game. Dee plays in the women’s league. She’s awesome. You should see her shoot threes.”

Dee blushed. “There are lots of good players on my team,” she said. “Anyway, listen! I have some news for you. I talked to my friend Mimi, who works for Best Friends, and I told her how much you want Honey to go to Noah.”

“You did?” Charles asked. “What did she say?”

“Well, she said I was right about the rules. . . .”
Dee paused, smiling. “But she also said that sometimes there are creative ways to work around the rules.”

Charles felt himself smiling. “Really?”

“Since you know both of them, she wants you to write her a letter and tell her all about Noah and Honey and why they would be good for each other. Can you do that?” She handed Charles a slip of paper with Mimi’s e-mail address on it.

Charles was nodding hard. Maybe things would work out all right after all! “I’ll do it as soon as I get home!” he promised.

Dee held up one hand, fingers crossed. “Let’s hope for the best!”