Like Carrot Juice on a Cupcake (5 page)

different song theme.”

But kids kept singing Christmas tunes.

Our friend Katie started “The Little Drummer Boy.”

“You know what’s
tragic
?”

Pearl whispered to me

during Katie’s
pa-rum-pa-pum-pum
s.

“What?” I whispered back.

“It’s tragic that Ainsley can’t be in the show,”

Pearl whispered.

“Since she can’t go to rehearsals, either.

Did you know she was Beauty

in her third grade’s performance of

Beauty and the Beast
?”

I shook my head.

I wondered how Pearl knew.

I wondered if I’d ever be a Beauty.

Then I peeked around Pearl, to glance at Ainsley.

And I wondered if she was ever going to take off

that humongous bow.

I thought I’d have a happy dinner that night

with my parents.

I thought I’d tell them about the audition right away.

And they’d be so proud of me,

for overcoming my fears.

But it wasn’t a happy dinner at all.

When I walked into the kitchen,

they were both already sitting at their places.

They looked up at me.

But neither one of them smiled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting at my place.

There was a big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs

on the table,

but they hadn’t served any onto our plates.

“It’s Antoine,” my dad said.

“Oh no!” I said. “Is he sick?”

Antoine had followed me into the kitchen.

As I looked down at him,

he put his paws up on my chair

and started wagging his whole body.

I touched his nose, to see if it was dry,

and he licked my hand.

He
seemed
fine.

But maybe I was missing something.

“Did he throw up again?” I asked.

“He’s healthy,” my mom said.

Then she pointed,

and I realized.

Her ripped-up scarf was lying near her plate.

“Oh,” I said,

and sank a little in my seat.

“I found it in your pocket,” my dad said.

“This morning, after you’d gone to school.

When I picked your clothes up off the floor

to put them in the hamper.”

I sank even lower.

Why didn’t I
ever
remember

to put my clothes in the hamper myself?

“I should’ve kept that scarf safe in a drawer,”

my mom said. “That was my mistake.

Still, we shouldn’t have to worry all the time.

Antoine needs to be trained.”

That
got me mad!

“I
am
training him!” I said.

Hadn’t they been paying attention?

Pearl and I had been working so hard!

“Watch,” I said.

I pushed my chair back

and stood up tall over Antoine

and pointed at the ground

and said, loudly,

“Sit!”

He didn’t sit.

Instead, he wagged his tail a little

and barked back at me.

I felt mad at Pearl then.

She could
always
get him to sit.

Why couldn’t she be here now,

when I needed her?

She was probably on the phone with stupid Ainsley,

listening to
hilarious
jokes.

“Sit, Antoine!” I said again,

trying not to think about Pearl.

“Sit!

Sit!”

Finally
, he sat.

“Good dog!” I said,

and gave him a hug.

“See?” I told my parents.

“He can lie down, too. And shake.

You
know
that.”

“We
do
know that,” my mom said.

“You’ve been working hard,” my dad said.

“But you need help,” my mom said.

“The chewing has been a problem for a while.

And as you told me, you tried to get him

to drop that chocolate-covered spoon,

but he didn’t listen. That’s not safe for
him
.”

I shouldn’t have told you!
I thought.

“Also,” my mom continued, “he nips sometimes.

And jumps quite a lot.”

“He’s only playing when he nips,” I said.

My mom ignored that.

“I’ve done some research,” she said.

“There’s a doggie training camp in the country

that gets rave reviews.

It’s only two weeks,

and I think it’ll do a world of good.”

“Two weeks!” I said.

My sleepaway camp the summer before

had lasted almost two weeks.

So I knew:

Two weeks can take
forever
.

“Starting Sunday,” my mom said.

“We made the arrangements

after Antoine ate the coffee table.”

“You
can’t
send him away,” I said.

“The time will fly,” my mom said.

“And we’ll spend hours with a trainer at the end.

The camp’s staff will give him a strong foundation,

and teach us how to build on that foundation.”

I couldn’t believe it.

I’d already lost my favorite times with Pearl.

She’d started tutoring Ainsley that very afternoon.

Now I was losing Antoine, too.

“I’m going with him,” I told my parents.

“It’s for dogs only,” my mom said.

“I’ll hide behind Antoine,” I said, “and sneak in.”

“If only you were smaller than Antoine,”

my mom said.

“And if only you liked dog food,” my dad said.

“Because that’s all they serve at dog camp.”

I remembered then

hating the yucky food at my own camp.

And I knew my dad had a point.

Because I could tell,

just by the smell of Antoine’s meals:

Dog food

is even worse

than pickles.

Pearl met me in the school lobby the next morning.

As soon as she saw me,

she started jumping up and down.

“You’re a star!” she cried. “A shining star!”

“What are you talking about?” I said.

She took my hand and pulled me down the hall,

all the way to the bulletin board

outside the music room.

Mrs. Quaid had posted the cast list.

“Mama Rabbit: Eleanor Kane,”

the list said.

And,