13
I don’t know what made me do it. I just couldn’t stop myself. I watched Toby walk down the hall and into his classroom, and then I turned and went right back out the front door. I hurried up the sidewalk and ducked around the side of the school building. When the buses pulled away from the curb and all the kids had gone inside, I started running and didn’t stop till I was way on up toward the highway. My backpack bounced against me as I hurried along the side of the road.
I had to see Willy. I just had to.
I turned down the gravel road that led to the old house. I kept my mind on what I had to do (see Willy) instead of what I had just done (hightailed it out of school).
When I got to the house, I took my backpack off and tossed it on the front porch. Then I pushed through the pricker bushes toward the back of the house. Just as I reached the corner, I heard something that made me stop in my tracks. Singing. Somebody was in back of the house, singing!
I jumped into the bushes and ducked down, my heart pounding like nobody’s business.
The singing stopped. I held my breath. A man’s voice called out, “Are you scared of me or should I be scared of you?”
I knelt in the damp earth and squeezed my eyes shut. My thoughts were jumping around between being scared and trying to figure out what to do. Maybe I could crawl through the thick brush and back out to the road. I pushed a branch aside and flinched when the sound of rustling leaves broke the silence. Willy let out a bark.
“I ain’t scared of a coward who won’t even show his face,” the man called out toward the bushes.
I lifted my head the tiniest little bit to peer through the leaves. A man was sitting on a log beside the back porch! I ducked down. I tried to crawl away from the house toward the path to the road, but a tangle of wild blackberry bushes blocked the way.
“This your dog?” the man called.
I scrambled to think what to do. Should I jump up and run? Should I call out something?
“Me and this dog are just sittin’ here sharing sardines,” the man said. “You want some?”
I pushed some branches down and peered out. Sure enough, there was Willy, sitting on the bottom step of the porch, licking a paper plate. The man stood up and walked a few steps in my direction. I ducked back down.
“I reckon you and me must think alike,” he called toward the bushes. “Never drop your gun to hug a grizzly bear, I always say.”
I crawled a few feet along the ground, trying to get a better view of the man.
“But you don’t have to worry, ’cause I ain’t no grizzly,” he said. “You think this little ole dog here would eat sardines with a grizzly?”
Then for the second time that day, I just up and did something without thinking. I stood up, pulled the branches aside, and said, “His name is Willy.”
The man looked in my direction. “Well now, I do declare,” he said. “I sure am glad you ain’t a grizzly, neither.”
I stepped out of the bushes and Willy started wagging his tail and kind of prancing with his front legs. The man chuckled.
“Now that’s some tail waggin’ if I ever saw it,” he said.
Part of me was saying, Georgina, stop what you’re doing and get on out of here. But I never was too good at listening to my own self, so I just stood there and checked things out.
The man had nailed one end of a blue tarp to the side of the house and tied the other end to a tree to make a shelter. A ratty sleeping bag was stretched out on the ground beneath it. Leaning against the porch was a rusty old bicycle with a wooden crate strapped on the back. An American flag dangled from the end of a long, skinny pole duct-taped to the crate.
The man gestured toward the bike.
“Easy to park and don’t need gas,” he said.
He grinned and I caught a glimpse of a shiny gold tooth right in the front. When he gave Willy a pat on the head, I noticed he had two fingers missing. I’d never seen anybody with two fingers missing before.
He must have seen me staring at his hand, ’cause he said, “Got in a tussle with a tractor engine one time.” He wiggled his three fingers at me. “Tractor won,” he said.
I blushed and looked away.
“My name’s Mookie,” the man said, tipping his greasy baseball hat.
“Mookie?”
He grinned again. “Real name’s Malcolm Greenbush, but my mama called me Mookie when I was just a little thing and I been Mookie ever since.”
“Oh.”
“You got a name?”
“Georgina,” I said. “Georgina Hayes.”
He stuck out that three-fingered hand of his for me to shake. I confess I didn’t feel too good about shaking a three-fingered hand, but I did it anyways.
“I don’t mean to go prying into your business, Miss Georgina,” Mookie said. “But how come you got your little dog all holed up here in this old house?”
Uh-oh. I hadn’t been ready for that question. I had to think fast.
“’Cause we got a new landlord and he says we can’t have a dog anymore, so my mama is looking for a new place where we can keep a dog, so I’m keeping him here till she finds one,” I said. There. That sounded pretty good.
Mookie’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “That so?” he said.
“Yessir.”
“Well, I can tell you that dog was hungry enough to eat the south end of a northbound skunk.”
I looked at Willy. He sat on the step and pawed the air with one of his little paws. Then he yawned, curling up his little pink tongue. I sat beside him and pulled him onto my lap.
“I bring him stuff to eat every day,” I said.
“That so?”
Something about the way he said “That so?” made me squirm.
“Except today,” I said. “Today I forgot.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing I had them sardines.” Mookie gathered up the paper plate and empty cans and put them in a plastic grocery bag. Then he turned to me and said, “Ain’t it?”
I felt squirmy again. “Yessir.”
“Seems kind of a shame to keep a little dog like that tied up all the time.”
I looked down at Willy and ran my hand along his back. “You wanna run a little bit, fella?” I said.
His head shot up off my lap and he whined.
Mookie chuckled. “I think that’s a ‘yes,’” he said.
I untied the string leash from the back porch, and Willy leaped off the steps, jumping up on me and yipping like crazy. I took him around to the gravel road, and off we went. Willy looked like he was ready to bust wide open with the pure joy of running. We raced up and down the road a few times till I finally collapsed right there in the dirt, gasping for breath. Willy sat beside me, panting.
“I don’t know which he needed more,” Mookie called from the side of the house. “Them sardines or that run.”
I pulled Willy onto my lap and put my arm around him. He licked my face and then nudged me with his nose.
Mookie strolled out to the road where me and Willy were sitting. “He sure is a smart little fella,” he said. “You had him long?”
“Uh, kind of.”
“Guess it’s pretty easy to love a dog like that.” Mookie picked up a piece of gravel and hurled it into the trees. A loud thwack echoed through the woods.
“I bet you miss him a lot,” he said. “I mean, you know, not having him in that apartment of yours.”
I nodded, stroking Willy’s head and trying to keep my face from looking as squirmy as my insides were feeling.
Mookie hurled another rock into the woods. “I had me a dog when I was a boy,” he said.
“What kind?”
“Oh, just a little ole half-breed,” he said. “Uglier than homemade soap, that dog was. And dumb? My daddy used to say he didn’t have both oars in the water.” He chuckled. “But, lawd, me and him was closer than white on rice.” He shook his head. “I sure did love that dog.”
He reached down and scratched the top of Willy’s head. Willy gave Mookie one of those doggie smiles of his.
“Dogs are just like family, ain’t they?” Mookie said.
I looked at Willy, and no matter how hard I tried not to, I kept seeing Carmella’s sad face and hearing Carmella’s heartbroken voice.
I stood up and brushed the dirt off my jeans.
“Where do you live?” I said.
“Yesterday, today, or next Thursday?” Mookie grinned, making his gold tooth glitter in the sunlight.
“Well, um, yesterday, I guess.”
“Over there.” He jerked his head and kind of rolled his eyes.
“Over where?”
“Over there where I was.”
“In a house?”
“A house?” he said real loud, like I was crazy to ask that. “Naw.”
“Then where?”
He opened his arms wide and said, “Out here. Outside.”
“Outside?”
Mookie nodded. “Yep.”
“How come?”
“’Cause I don’t have to paint the air or tar-paper the sky or mop the ground. All I got to do is breathe.”
“That’s stupid,” I said.
Mookie chuckled.
“I better go,” I said, leading Willy up the path to the back of the house. Mookie followed along behind us, whistling. I took Willy up to the back porch and tied his leash to the doorknob.
“How long are you staying here?” I said.
“Not long,” he said. “I leave my feet in one place too long, they start growing roots.”
“Oh.” I gave Willy one last pat on the head. “Then, bye.” I made my way down the rickety steps. “And thanks for the sardines. For Willy, I mean.”
Mookie tipped his hat. “My pleasure.”
As I pushed through the bushes toward the front of the house, I had an uneasy feeling. My worries seemed to be piling up, one on top of the other, like bricks on a wall.
I waited in the car until it was time to go back to school and get Toby. All afternoon, I tried to concentrate on what I had to do next. I went over my How to Steal a Dog notes in my mind and thought about how good I’d done so far.
I had done good, hadn’t I? I mean, I’d found the perfect dog. I’d stolen him. I’d put him in a good place where he was safe. Now all I had to do was wait for Carmella to get the reward money. I bet by the time me and Toby got over to Carmella’s, she’d have money, and then I could just move on to the last step in my dog-stealing plan.
Shoot, I bet me and Toby and Mama would be in our nice new apartment just about any day now.
14
Carmella twisted a damp tissue around and around in her lap. Every now and then, she dabbed at her nose.
“I can’t hardly stand to face the day anymore,” she said. “I couldn’t even go to work today.”
“How come?” Toby said.
I gave him a nudge with my knee. We sat squeezed together between piles of junk on Carmella’s couch. The window shades were drawn. Tiny sparkles of dust danced in a narrow beam of sunlight that slanted across the dark room.
Carmella shook her head. “Gertie says she hasn’t got that kind of money, but I know she does.”
“Why won’t she give it to you?” I said.
“’Cause she’s selfish, that’s why.”
I watched a fly land on a greasy pizza box on the coffee table. “That’s mean,” I said.
“She never did like dogs.” Carmella blew her nose and waved her hand at the fly.
“What are you gonna do?” I said.
Carmella flopped back against the pillow tucked behind her in the chair. She propped her feet up on a ripped vinyl footstool and rested her hands on her stomach. Then she closed her eyes and made weird little moaning noises.
Toby twirled his finger around his ear, making a sign like Carmella was crazy. I frowned at him and shook my head.
“What are you gonna do?” I repeated a little louder.
Carmella shook her head, making her ripply chin jiggle like Jell-O.
“I just wanna die,” she said.
Toby clamped his hand over his mouth like he was trying to stifle a laugh, but I didn’t see what was so funny.
“You can’t die,” I said. “Willy needs you.”
Carmella’s eyes popped open. She sat up straight and slapped her knee.
“You’re right,” she said. “Willy does need me.”
I grinned. “So, what’re you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna put those signs up, that’s what I’m gonna do,” she said.
“The reward signs?” Toby said.
She nodded. “Yep.”
“But what about the money?” I said. “Where are you gonna get the money?”
“I’ll just be like Scarlett O’Hara,” Carmella said.
“Who’s that?” Toby said.
“You know, from Gone With the Wind?”
I guess me and Toby looked confused, ’cause she went on to explain about Scarlett O’Hara. About how she was this lady in a movie who said “fiddle-dee-dee” and who worried about things tomorrow instead of today.
Then Carmella pushed herself up out of the chair and shuffled over to a rickety card table.
“Will y’all help me put these signs up?” She waved a stack of papers at us. “I made copies with Willy’s picture.” She smiled down at the signs in her hand.
Toby looked at me and when I said, “Sure,” he said, “Sure.”
Carmella gave us a little box of tacks and then grabbed her purse and car keys.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Carmella drove, and me and Toby jumped out at every corner to tack a sign up. Toby was scared Mama was gonna see us when we got near the coffee shop, but I told him to hush up and stop worrying. Of course, I knew he was right. She might see us. But I had so many other things weighing me down that I didn’t have room in my worried mind for Mama. With every sign I put up, that question that I’d been trying to push away kept popping back at me. The question was this: What in the world are you doing, Georgina?
By the time we were done, it seemed like there wasn’t one street in Darby that didn’t have a sign tacked up somewhere. On nearly every corner, Willy’s face gazed out at the world with his head cocked in that adorable way of his. It like to broke my heart to look at it.
“I feel better already,” Carmella said when we turned onto Whitmore Road and into her driveway. “I have this feeling in my bones that my little Willy is gonna be coming home any minute now.”
“But what about the money?” I said.
Carmella flapped her hand at me. “Oh, fiddle-dee-dee,” she said. “I’ll worry about that tomorrow.”
When Mama got off work that night, she drove us over to the Pizza Hut and told us to go on in and wash up. Then we sat in the parking lot and ate corned beef sandwiches and dill pickles. Mama seemed real happy and excited, going on and on about how she’s making all kinds of money. She showed me and Toby an envelope stuffed with dollar bills.
“I’m stashing this under the spare tire in the trunk,” she said. “But it’s just for emergencies, okay?”
“Is that enough to pay for an apartment?” I said, pulling the fat off my corned beef and tucking it into a napkin for Willy.
“Not quite,” she said. “But it won’t be long now.”
“How long?” I popped a piece of chewing gum in my mouth.
“Not long,” Mama said.
“How long?”
“Not long,” Mama said in a mean voice.
“Yeah, right.” I rolled my eyes and pulled chewing gum in a long, stretchy string out of my mouth.
Mama whipped around to face me. I stuck my chin up and looked her square in the eye, twirling my gum around like a jump rope.
She turned back around and slumped low in the front seat.
Toby licked his fingers with smacking sounds and said, “Maybe me and Georgina can get some money.”
I like to swallowed my gum when he said that.
Mama looked at him and smiled that real sweet smile like she always seems to have for him but never for me.
“Now, how in the world would you and Georgina get money, sweetheart?” she said.
Here it comes, I thought. I knew Toby was gonna mess up sooner or later. I braced myself for what was going to come next, waiting for Toby to tell Mama about Willy and Carmella and all. I tried to give him the evil eye, but he wouldn’t look at me.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we could find some.”
Mama chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Yeah, Toby,” I said. “Be sure and let us know when you find a million dollars on the sidewalk, okay?”
Mama shot me a look, but Toby grinned and said, “Okay.”
We finished up our supper, and then Mama drove around looking for a place to park for the night. The car was chugging and rattling and jerking like crazy, but she acted like she didn’t even notice.
As we pulled into the parking lot of the Motel 6, I spotted one of Carmella’s signs. Suddenly that greasy corned beef in my stomach didn’t set too well. I lay down on the seat and curled into a ball. Then I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.
Later on, after Mama and Toby had fallen asleep, I pulled out my How to Steal a Dog notes. I read through every page. When I got to the part that said: You will have to wait and see what happens next, I got out my colored pencils and drew little flowers and hearts all around the edge of the page. Then I used a sky blue pencil to write again:
You will have to wait and see what happens next.
I looked out the window at the Motel 6. Inside the lobby, a man was watching TV and sipping from a coffee mug. A soda machine outside the door sent a flickering red glow across the parking lot.
I wished we could’ve got a room there. Just for one night. We could stretch out on a real bed. Take a bath in a real tub. Act like real people. We didn’t have school tomorrow, so we could spend all day watching TV and stuff. But Mama had said no.
I looked over at Toby, curled up on the backseat with his head propped against the door. I hadn’t told him about Mookie yet. I knew he’d get all scared and worried. He’d say we weren’t supposed to talk to strangers and Mama would kill us and stuff like that. And I guessed he would be right. But what choice did we have? We couldn’t just forget about Willy, could we? We had to feed him and take care of him. Besides, Mookie was probably gone by now. Toby wouldn’t ever even know he’d been there.
I closed my notebook and stuffed it back down inside my bag. Then I lay down on the car seat and closed my eyes. No sense worrying about Mookie tonight, was there? I could worry about him tomorrow.