Girl's Best Friend (7 page)

I didn’t answer right away, but I knew not to argue.

Once Ivy made up her mind, there was no going back.

Chapter 12

♦     ♦     ♦

Some pigeons can fly at speeds of up to a hundred miles an hour. Peregrine falcons move twice as fast. And hummingbirds need to eat every ten minutes.

Who cares? I asked myself the very same thing, back when my dad made me watch his National Geographic documentary on bird-watching in New York City. But now I’m grateful for these seemingly useless facts because they’ll provide me with the perfect cover.

On Sunday, I put on my softest jeans, my scuffed blue Pumas, and one of Finn’s old shirts (green, long-sleeved, and slightly baggy). I dumped my schoolbooks out of my backpack and filled it with some dog-walking supplies instead: spare leash, biscuits, water, and bowl. I slipped my camera into my back pocket and slung my dad’s binoculars around my neck to complete the disguise.

Looking like a girl going after an evil dognapper was too dangerous, which is why I transformed myself into Maggie Brooklyn, Bird-Watcher.

I even looked up a bunch of bird facts in case I met another bird-watcher and had to act the part. I was ready.

At least I would be once I ate breakfast.

“Where are you off to?” my mom asked. She was up early, drinking coffee and paying bills at the kitchen table.

“The park,” I said as innocently as possible.

She looked at me from over the tops of her reading glasses. “By yourself?”

She seemed to know I was up to something, and I had no reason to lie. “Actually, I’m meeting up with Ivy.”

I took an English muffin out of the bread box, sliced it open, and put it in the toaster. Even though my back was to her, I could feel Mom’s extra wide smile radiate across the room.

“Why do you look like you’re auditioning for a toothpaste commercial?” I asked, turning around.

“I’m just so happy that you and Ivy have put this silly feud behind you.”

“Feud?” I asked. “Whoever said we were in the middle of a feud?”

“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad it’s over. It was so nice seeing you two talk at your party.”

“You weren’t supposed to be watching,” I reminded her.

“Right,” said Mom. “But when Finn tried to get that game of Five-Card Stud going with actual money, I had to intervene.”

“The stakes were low. We were only playing for quarters.”

“Gambling is gambling,” said Mom. “But that doesn’t matter. Have a great time today.”

“Will do,” I called on my way out.

Today was all about rescuing Kermit. If it made my mom feel better to think Ivy and I were friends again, then fine. There was no harm in keeping her clueless. In fact, it made things easier. Fewer questions that way.

I polished off breakfast on my way to Beacon’s Closet. When I got there I found Ivy sitting on a bench in front of the coffee place next door.

“What are you wearing?” she asked as soon as she noticed me.

“It’s my disguise,” I told her, which should’ve been obvious.

“You’re dressed as a dork?” she asked with a laugh. “Not much of a disguise.”

“For someone asking for so many favors, you sure are rude.”

Ivy shrugged. “I’m only being honest.”

“I’m dressed as a bird-watcher,” I said, holding up the binoculars. “And I wore sneakers in case there’s a chase. Something you maybe should’ve thought of.” I stared pointedly at her platform boots.

I knew I had her, but she still shrugged and said, “Dork, bird-watcher. Same thing.” All dismissive.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“I’m not sure,” said Ivy. “They said to come alone.”

“Right. We’ve been over this and we agreed it would be a bad idea to—”

“
You
agreed and that was last night. I’ve been thinking, the park’s a public place, and it’s always packed on weekends. I mean, what could happen in broad daylight?”

“That’s how Kermit got stolen in the first place,” I reminded her. “Plus, last year someone snatched my mom’s purse in the middle of the afternoon, and they never even caught the guy.”

Ivy sighed heavily. “Fine. It’s your money, so I guess you call the shots.”

“It’s not like that,” I said. “I just think we need to figure out who’s behind the dognapping. Because what if they do this again?”

“I’d never leave Kermit alone twice. If I get him back, I won’t let him out of my sight.”

“I mean, what if they do this to other dogs?” I said.

“Oh.” Ivy thought for a moment, her narrow eyebrows scrunched together. “Okay, that makes sense. Did you bring the cash?”

I pulled a small white envelope from my back pocket and handed it to Ivy. “Here.”

She stood, dusted off the back of her jeans, and inspected it. The envelope was unmarked, as specified, and bulky with my hundred dollars, cash. (Mostly old bills—I’d saved Cassie’s for myself.)

“It’s all there,” I said. “Count it if you want.”

“I trust you.”

We walked to the park in silence—six long blocks. Ivy’s boots clicked against the sidewalk, fast and annoyed.

One thing about Ivy: she wasn’t going to pretend to like me just because I was doing her this favor—waking up extra early on a Sunday and lending her most of my dog-walking money—when she wasn’t even my friend anymore.

If anything, she acted like she resented me more than ever. Which annoyed me and made me wonder why I’d agreed to help in the first place.

But I tried to look for the positives: like, maybe I should be refreshed by her honesty?

It wasn’t easy.

“So you know what you’re supposed to do?” I asked once we were across the street from the park.

“Tape the cash to the park bench and walk away,” said Ivy. “Meanwhile, you’ll be watching from your hiding place. And when you yell ‘Kermit,’ I turn around and we corner the dognapper and scream for help.”

I nodded. “Yup. That’s it.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?”

“How can it not work?”

Ivy frowned. “It’s just so simple.”

“Simple plans are the best,” I assured her.

She narrowed her eyes at me, suspicious. “Says who?”

“Says me. Don’t worry so much.” I checked my watch. “It’s almost time. We shouldn’t be talking. They might be watching now.”

Ivy looked around. “You think?” She sounded a little panicked, which made me feel better. At least she was taking this seriously.

“I don’t know. I hope not. You go in first and I’ll hang back.”

“Okay.” Ivy waited for the light to change and crossed the street, walking stiffly between the panther statues.

I followed a couple of minutes later.

Once I got to the park, I stopped and pretended to admire some birdlife, but unfortunately all I could see at the moment were some pigeons picking at a stale-looking hot-dog bun.

Still, I squinted at them through my binoculars, pulled out my notepad, and pretended to write down my observations.

Then I moved on, heading toward the designated park bench, but not directly.

Once I got within fifty feet or so, I ducked behind a tree, crouched down, and stared at the bench through my binoculars.

The envelope was there and Ivy had just walked away, looking about as awkward as I felt.

Ivy was right. It did seem dorky coming to the park with gigantic binoculars.

I hoped I didn’t run into anyone I knew. And right as I was having that thought—as if I’d conjured up my biggest fear—I heard a familiar voice speaking from behind me.

“You again?”

I spun around and found myself face-to-face with the dark-haired dog walker. This time she had only one client with her—a chubby basset hound with droopy, bloodshot eyes.

“Spying on the competition?” she asked.

So much for being inconspicuous. Then I realized something: if it looked like I was in conversation with the crazy dog-walker lady, Kermit’s dognapper wouldn’t know I was watching him or her.

“Hi, I’m Maggie.” I held out my hand and tried to be as friendly as possible. “I never did catch your name.”

“It’s Jane,” she said with a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, not that it’s any of your business,” I said as I held up my binoculars, “but I happen to be an avid bird-watcher.”

“You have time for hobbies? It must be nice. I’m too busy working and worrying about my business. I lost another client yesterday.”

“Lost?” I gulped, thinking about the chocolate Lab’s close brush with death.

“Yeah, it seems that Daphne’s parents found a cheaper dog walker.”

“Daphne?” I glanced back at the envelope, wanting to keep the conversation short but knowing I couldn’t let Jane see what I was up to.

I edged away and sat down on the nearest bench. Unfortunately, she joined me. “Are you
sure
you don’t know her?”

“I don’t. Seriously—I don’t have any new dogs. I’m not even looking for any new dogs. I’m busy enough. What with my bird-watching hobby.” I held up my binoculars to remind her. “Did you know that over thirty-six types of warblers have been spotted in this park?”

Jane huffed, thoroughly unimpressed with my bird factoid.

“I’ve only seen two myself, but this is new for me.” I spoke as earnestly as possible, feeling more like someone pretending to be a dork than an actual dork. A subtle but necessary distinction.

“So you’re still going with the ‘innocent kid’ act?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s no act. I’m
barely
twelve, and I’ve never stolen anything in my life. Never broken and entered. Never shoplifted—not even a piece of candy. I’ve never trespassed, as far as I know. I’m a Girl Scout. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I used to be a Girl Scout for real, but that was a long time ago and I always hated the uniform. The cookies were good. Especially the Thin—”

“Do you have a point?” Jane snapped.

“Absolutely. I’m not only innocent, I’m the definition of innocence. Look up innocent on Wikipedia; you’ll see my smiling face.” Okay, maybe I got carried away, but I really wanted to be clear with her.

“I have to work weekends now, just to stay competitive,” Jane said, like she didn’t even hear me.

She really had a one-track mind. In this woman’s imagination, we were in some major competition and I didn’t know how to convince her otherwise.

“Look, I’m glad you stopped by to say hello. But I’m kind of busy right now.” I smiled, turned around, and raised my binoculars to my face.

Meanwhile, Jane still sat next to me, fuming. “Know what, Maggie? You’re treating this like a joke, but there’s nothing funny about this situation and you’d better watch your back.”

“Okay,” I said. “But right now I’d like to get back to watching birds.” I spotted the right bench and adjusted the binoculars.

“Do whatever you want to do,” said Jane. “But don’t say you weren’t warned.”

“Warned?” I tore my gaze from the bench, alarmed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jane didn’t answer. She couldn’t because she’d already stormed off, pulling that poor basset hound along behind her.

By the time I turned back to the dog beach, I couldn’t find the right bench. I thought it was the third from the end, but when I focused on it, I couldn’t see an envelope. And it wasn’t on the next one, either.

“Where were you?” I heard someone ask.

I spun around, figuring from the angry tone that Jane had returned. But it was only Ivy. An extremely irate Ivy.

“What?” I asked.

“Who was it? Where are they?”

Oh no. I felt a slow, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “You mean it already happened?” I asked. “They took the envelope?”

“Of course they took it!” Ivy yelled.

“Then where’s Kermit?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” said Ivy.

“But I only looked away for a second … ”

“And that’s all it took!”

We both glanced toward the bench, and I suddenly spotted another small blue note card. We ran over. I got there first and pulled it loose. Then Ivy snatched it from me before I had time to read it.

“ ‘I said to come alone,’ ” Ivy read. She angrily waved the card in my face. “I can’t believe I was so stupid!”

“This isn’t your fault,” I said.

“I know that!” screamed Ivy. “I mean I shouldn’t have trusted you.
That
was my big mistake.”

“I’m so sorry.” It was all I could manage to say, what with the gigantic lump invading my throat.

“You said you knew what you were doing!” Ivy yelled.

My whole body felt heavy with dread. Like I’d had rocks for breakfast instead of that slightly stale English muffin. “Okay, I never said that exactly.”

“You said you’d help, but actually you made things a thousand times worse! Which is so typical.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Ivy pouted.

“It’s not over. We can still find him.”

“How?” asked Ivy. “It’s impossible. And you wonder why I don’t hang out with you anymore!”

“But—” I didn’t finish my sentence. For one thing, I didn’t know how to. But more importantly, Ivy had run away.

I chased her. Which wasn’t easy because my binoculars bounced up and down against my chest and my backpack shifted with each step. I tried holding the binoculars with one hand, but that made running harder.

And it turned out I was wrong about the boots. They didn’t slow Ivy down at all. I moved as fast as I could, but she was faster, darting away from the dog beach, zipping past the baseball fields, and tearing across the Long Meadow.

People flew kites, picnicked in the last of the sunny weather, tossed Frisbees. No one looked twice as Ivy tore by—determined, a girl on a mission. But where was she going?

I soon found out.

Suddenly she ran into the middle of one of the soccer games on the Great Lawn. A bunch of guys, half in red shirts and half in blue shirts, were playing. They looked about our age, maybe a bit older, but I didn’t recognize any of them, which meant they probably went to one of the private schools nearby.

I figured it was an accident, busting up their game, but what Ivy did next was completely deliberate.

Deliberate and shocking.

Ivy stole the game ball. Kicked it away, then picked it up and held it over her head.

The guys who were chasing the ball stopped short. They looked at her and then at one another and then back at her.