Immortal Max (16 page)

“He's afraid of his own dog?” I can't imagine such a thing.

Anise looks at Yee. “You think that's why he never lets Bruno out of his cage?”

Yee shrugs.

“Patty's in the pageant with me. She's doing a dance, too. Want to see mine?” Without waiting for an answer, Rosie starts stomping in a circle and making grunting sounds.

Neanderthal man, getting ready to hunt mastodons.

“Let's try it this way. I learned how to do this in my modern dance class in the burbs.” Anise spins in circles, looking graceful and elegant. Everyone claps when she finishes.

Rosie tries to imitate her. Anise says she has a natural talent for dance and asks Rosie if she would like her to be her choreographer.

“What's that?” asks Rosie.

“A choreographer is sort of a teacher. A
dance
teacher. If you want, I'll come up with a modern Chippewa dance. A Chippewa warrior priestess ballet.”

“
Cool
. I always wanted to be a warrior priestess.”

Girls. I shake my head and sigh, hear Sid sigh, too.

“And if you want, I could do your hair.” Yee slips the rubber band off Rosie's ponytail and combs through it with her fingers. “I have a conditioner that will make it shiny. And we can braid it, like a real priestess.”

Rosie agrees in a heartbeat. Who wouldn't? Yee has the prettiest hair in school.

“I need to take care of something. Would one of you watch Rosie when she crosses the road?”

“I'll make sure she gets home. . . .” Sid pauses, looking at me. “We need to talk about the pageant.”

Sid's look tells me that today's the day he's going to warn Rosie she's not a shoo-in to win the pageant. That there's no need for a third costume.

“Maybe Bailey can bring Yee and Anise over to see the new, clean Max when they finish practice,” he says.

“Yeah. You gotta see Max. He turned into a . . .” Rosie hesitates, looking at Sid.

“Boo-sha-peer.” He pronounces it slowly.

I groan. “I'll tell you what he is—I'll even spell it for you. He's a
D-O-G
.”

Sid looks at me. “Yes, a Boo-sha-peer is a dog, just as a golden retriever, a Labrador, and a German shepherd are dogs. Also peekapoos, poodles, Pekingese, Chihuahuas—”

“We get it, Sid!” Yee covers her ears with her hands.

“We'll come over soon as we finish practice,” Bailey says. She puts Blondie in the backyard so practice can resume.

Rosie now has a clothes designer, a choreographer, and a hairstylist, and Sid is going to straighten things out about costumes. Which means there will be tears later. But I'm cool with tears because I'm getting free babysitting out of the deal. Time enough to make a phone call.

Alone in the house, I hurry to the living room. Dialing quickly, I get an immediate answer.

“Kendall's Kennels. This is Alice Kendall.”

“This is Sam Smith again. I called you about the puppies for sale. Do you still have them?”

“I remember you. And yes, I have two males and the female left. Sold one of the males yesterday.” A pause on the line. “So, you have the money now?”

“Not exactly, but I'll have it soon. I just wanted to let you know that I will
definitely
be buying one of the males.” I listen to Mrs. Kendall clear her throat.

“Like I told you, Sam. This is a business. I can't hold a dog—”

“Yes, ma'am, I know. I was just checking to make sure you still had one. I'll call you soon, but it won't be long now. Just a few weeks. Okay?” Another pause.

“Well, you can call back, but you must understand that I can't make any guarantees.”

“Yes, ma'am, I understand all about business. I'll call you back soon.”

I hang up, pumped. If I'm a squeaky wheel with Mrs. Kendall, I just know she'll give in and hold a puppy for me.

Giggles tell me the cheerleading squad is on its way to see Max, so I hurry to catch up. Rosie is sitting on the ground next to Sid, watching George race around the wading pool like he's in the Indy 500. I don't see a single tear staining Rosie's cheeks.

“I can't believe it's the same dog,” Yee says, giving Max a good rub on his sides. He eats it up.

“Me either.” Anise takes care of the head rubbing. “But he could stand some mouthwash.” Her mouth puckers like she's been eating a lemon.

“Beth brought home some dog biscuits, the ones with charcoal that help bad breath. I, uh, I just haven't had time to give him any.”

“Well, go get them.” Yee looks at me, hands on hips.

I leave, sighing.

When I return, everyone takes turns feeding Max. With all the noise, Birdie flies off the nest.

Anise moans, “Oh, no, we made her abandon the eggs.”

“Naw. She'll be back soon as we leave. She sits for thirty or forty minutes, then takes a break to eat and exercise. It's normal.”

“Yeah,” Rosie says. “Max stands guard while she's gone. They're married now, and he's adopted the eggs.”

Everyone laughs. Except me.

Suddenly, Sid points at the nest. “Look, Sam. I believe that egg is hatching.”

Everyone crowds close, looking at a crack in one of the small blue eggs.

“Birdie must have been sitting longer than we thought. Beth told me it takes ten to fourteen days for the eggs to hatch.”

“I want to watch the eggs get born.” Rosie pushes closer.

I pull her away. “You need to give it some space. It takes a long time for the chick to get out. And they hatch in the order Birdie laid them, so she still needs to keep the others warm.”

“Max is an excellent bird herder.” Sid puts George into his cage. “And I must be a gerbil herder now. It's time for me to go home.”

“Me too.” Yee gets up to leave.

Anise gets up, too.

Bailey leads Rosie and the other cheerleaders toward the road.

As I retrieve a half-empty bag of dog biscuits from the ground, Max runs up, begging for another. “Your breath
would
stop a train.” I toss him a biscuit. He catches it between his teeth and wags his tail.

“Walk me to the road, Sam?” Sid is standing behind me.

I turn to look at him. “Hey, thanks for telling Rosie she's not a shoo-in for the contest. She handle it okay?”

“She understood perfectly . . . I think.” Sid's shoulders droop. “I won't be coming back for a while, Sam. My mother has decided to paint the conference room pink.”

“Pink?”

He shrugs. “It's a princess contest. Princesses like pink. So I have now been given the job of room painter.”

“That's too bad. But there'll be plenty of summer left after it's over.”

He grins. “Yes, that is true.”

“And I'll be getting my new puppy before long.”

“Maybe we can have a party to welcome it. A naming party.”

“
Splendid
idea. Something important sounding. Like Bruno.”

“Bruno?” He frowns. “Isn't that's the name of Justin's dog?”

“Yeah. I want my puppy to be named after a mythological god, too. You know, something impressive.”

He nods, looking thoughtful. “You mean like George. Many kings have been named George.”

“Yeah,
exactly
. Like
King
George the Gerbil.”

Sid gives me a knuckle bump. “Will I see you at the pageant?”

I hadn't considered going to the Princess Pageant. He picks up on it.

“Your sister will be very disappointed if you don't come.”

“Yeah . . . yeah, I should probably be there.”

“Good.” He grins as he pushes off. “You can sit with King George and me. It will be fun.”

“Fun.” I say the word, but I don't mean it. Even though Sid has explained the rules to Rosie, I know she's not prepared to lose. There will be nothing but tears and temper tantrums on pageant day.

I wake up with a headache on Friday morning because I had bad dreams. I change out of my sleeping clothes and walk downstairs. Rosie's at the kitchen table, sitting in front of a bowl of Cheerios, but she's too excited to eat. Her legs swing like opposing pendulums as she rattles on about the new dance Anise is teaching her. A caution light starts to blink behind my eyes.

“You still may not win the talent show, Rosie. Justin said Patty's been taking dance since she was three years old.”

“I know, Sid explained all that to me.” She's wearing a purple tank top over a luminous lime-green skort. “The judges will pick who they think is best.” She looks at me, eyes serious. “I'm going to practice real hard.”

Rats
. She still thinks she could win.

“Yeah, well, Patty's mother will probably buy her expensive costumes, too. You still might not win. That means you won't get a tiara.”

“That's what Patty said.”

“Patty? Justin's sister told you she was going to win the tiara?”

“Yeah, she's a bully, too. Yee told me that bullies pick on you to make you afraid of them so you won't try. She said the best thing to do is ignore them. So that's what I'm doing. I'm ignoring Patty.” Rosie pauses at the door. “I really like your friends, Sammy. They're the nicest.”

Yeah, they
are
the nicest.

I leave for work, a larger water bottle clipped to a belt loop. A ball cap in my hip pocket for shade. A bigger jar lid stuffed in the other pocket for a water dish. I considered bringing bent nails to throw on the road to puncture Justin's tires but decided against it. If I gave other people flat tires, Chief Beaumont would toss me out like he was throwing a touchdown pass.

CountryWood: 6. Sam Smith: 0. Game over.

I coast down the driveway, remembering my dreams. Not dreams, nightmares. Justin forcing me into the ditch. Running over the dogs. Making the
L
sign on his forehead.

Maybe he won't bother me today. . . .

I meet Bailey at the road. She smiles as we pass each other. I muster a smile, too. Plastic.

Bertha's at the security gate, grinning as she hands me an orange pass. “Morning, Sam.”

Hearing my name, Chief Beaumont walks outside. “How you doin', Sam?”

He stands in front of me. Legs spread wide and arms crossed like a linebacker. A
determined
linebacker.

“Um, fine.” I wait. More is coming.

“Had reports of a disturbance Wednesday, 'bout the time you were walking the dogs. Loud engine, dogs barking. You hear any such thing?”

He's going to give me a citation for disturbing the peace.

Take away my gate privileges.

Toss me out like a football.

“I, uh, I might've heard something . . . but four dogs keep me pretty busy.” A lie, of course, and the look on the chief's face says he knows it. I duck my head and look at my watch. “I, uh, I have to pick up the key from Mrs. Callahan.”

He waves me through the gate. I hurry to the office, resisting looking back. I watch a lot of cop shows on TV. Liars always look over their shoulder.

It only takes ten minutes to round up the dogs because Mr. P, Mrs. Callahan, and Professor Muller live so close to each other.
I'm glad to see that all four dogs have recovered from Justin's terror attack. And even happier that Siegfried isn't limping anymore.

I keep an eye on the rear and listen for a gasoline-powered engine, but it's smooth sailing. I've just tied the fourth plastic bag to my belt when I hear the sound. I spin around but see nothing. Siegfried nudges my leg, alerting me that I need to rotate a hundred eighty degrees. I turn to see a muscle shirt leaning over the windshield of a golf cart. Justin's conducting a frontal attack today.

I pick up the smaller dogs and take off. Siegfried races beside me. When Justin spins in a tight circle, I spot a wide gap between two houses. It's against orders to leave the designated path, but only one thought fills my mind. Survival. Mine and the dogs'.

I stop on the other side of the gap. A six-foot-tall white PVC fence confronts me. L-shaped. One of the inside corners of Country-Wood. A dead end.

I spit on the ground and say, “Crap.”

I consider my options. I can't go back because Justin's there. There's no easy way to get the dogs over a six-foot fence. And there's no use trying to hide because Justin knows every inch of this place.

And then it hits me. It's not just a dead end. It's a minefield for golf carts. Big trees. Thorny raspberry bushes. Rough ungraded ground. Lots of boulders.

“
Run
, Siegfried.” We make it into the trees and the boulder field just as Justin roars through the gap. He slams on his brakes, squealing to a stop.

“
Chicken!
You gotta come out of there sooner or later, and I got all day.”

Swell. Another plan that wasn't foolproof. Justin might have all day, but I don't. I wish for a miracle.