My Dog is Better than Your Dog Read online

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  EPIGRAPH

  INTRODUCTION

  PART ONE: THE BLOTCH

  TUESDAY, AUGUST 26

  8:24 A.M.

  8:47 A.M.

  10:13 A.M.

  12:39 P.M.

  4:16 P.M.

  4:56 P.M.

  5:06 P.M.

  5:33 P.M.

  6:17 P.M.

  6:42 P.M.

  7:09 P.M.

  7:47 P.M.

  8:19 P.M.

  10:09 P.M.

  SOMETIME AFTER 12:00 A.M.

  PART TWO: THE BULLY

  WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 27

  8:33 A.M.

  9:46 A.M.

  10:34 A.M.

  11:18 A.M.

  11:38 A.M.–6:32 P.M.

  6:33 P.M.

  7:12 P.M.

  9:33 P.M.

  10:12 P.M.

  PART THREE: THE BAD, BAD BABYSITTER

  THURSDAY, AUGUST 28

  7:09 A.M.

  8:12 A.M.–11:23 A.M.

  3:15 P.M.

  3:42 P.M.

  3:58 P.M.

  4:34 P.M.

  6:16 P.M.

  8:31 P.M.

  PART FOUR: THE REST OF THE STORY

  FRIDAY, AUGUST 29

  7:07 A.M.

  10:47 A.M.

  6:49 P.M.

  10:24 P.M.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  “Some things are worth fighting for … but justice is worth biting for!”

  —Jonah Forrester

  “A crime fighter’s job is never done. Catching the bad guys isn’t just my job … it’s my life.”

  —Hank Barlow

  PROFILE*

  Name: Jimmy Bishop (me)

  Age: 11

  Occupation: Kid

  Interests: Crime fighters, vampires, dogs, not girls

  *STOP! POLICE!—which is my all-time-favorite TV show, by the way—does these cool profiles of all the new characters on every episode. So I thought I’d do it too. It’s not like I’m stealing the idea or anything. Just paying tribute to it. There’s a difference. I think.

  I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING.

  You’re thinking that just because I love crime fighters, vampires, and dogs, I made up the whole thing about having a crime-fighting vampire dog.

  Well, I didn’t. It’s all true.

  Here are three reasons why you know I’m telling the truth.

  REASON ONE: First of all, if I was going to invent a crime-fighting vampire dog, do you think I would name her Abby? No. I would name her something totally vampire-ish. Like Hexomitrus.

  REASON TWO: If I made up the part about Abby being a crime-fighting vampire dog, why wouldn’t I make up the whole rest of the story? Like, why wouldn’t I also just say I was the most popular kid in the whole school, a world-champion long-distance runner, and extremely, extremely handsome?

  And REASON THREE: This story is so crazy that I don’t think anybody could have made it up. Not even Elroy Evans, writer of the greatest vampire books ever, or Stanley Murdock, creator of the greatest TV show ever.

  So, yeah. What you’re about to read is the absolute, exact truth.

  I swear!

  I’m one of those kids who likes to stay busy, because it helps me forget that I don’t have a lot to do.

  Which makes sense, right?

  That’s why, on the morning of August 26, I wasn’t just eating cereal.

  I was also searching for funny dog videos on the computer.

  And I was watching YouTube clips of my favorite old TV show—STOP! POLICE!

  And I was rereading a Jonah Forrester book—Fang Goodness—for approximately the six hundred and twenty-eighth time.

  In other words, Tuesday, August 26, was a typical summer morning, until my sister, Misty, walked into the kitchen, looked at me, and dropped her phone.

  “EW!” she screamed. “Jimmy, you have a huge blotch on your face!”

  FACT: There’s never a good time for a blotch to suddenly appear on your face, but some times are worse than others. And 8:24 in the morning, two days before the first day of fifth grade, is probably just about the worst time of all.

  By the way, I had no idea what a blotch was.

  “What’s a blotch?” I asked Misty.

  “A big, disgusting, gross mark!” she explained happily.

  PROFILE

  Name: Misty Bishop (sister)

  Age: 14

  Occupation: Texting

  Interests: The usual annoying big-sister things

  All of a sudden, a feeling of panic filled my chest.

  “MOM!” I called. But then I remembered she wasn’t home, as usual. She left really early for work every day, and came home late too.

  “DAD!”

  My dad, who was in the TV room, came in and took a look.

  “Wow,” he said, “she’s a beaut.” He leaned in closer. “And if I’m not mistaken,” he added, “it’s the exact shape of Rhode Island.” Then his phone buzzed. “Sorry, bud, I gotta deal with this.”

  I ran to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror.

  Ugh.

  I had no idea what Rhode Island looked like, but it had to be the ugliest state in the entire country.

  I stood there for about five seconds. Then I did what any kid who discovers a Rhode Island–shaped blotch on his face, two days before fifth grade, would do.

  I screamed.

  “NOOOOOOOOOO!”

  My sister poked her head in. “YEESSSSSSSSS!” she said, cracking up.

  FACT: When your older sister looks at you and starts laughing, you know it’s not good.

  I was still staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, wishing there was a hole in the wall I could crawl into, when my dad walked in with a huge smile on his face.

  “Good news—I got the interview!” he announced. “I just called Mom. I’ve got to be in the city in an hour and a half. Your sister will keep an eye on you today.” He scooped me up in his arms and started dancing and singing a made-up song. “We’re gonna need a babysitter all up in here, ’cause your dad’s finally getting things in gear!” I tried to be patient because I knew how badly my dad needed some good news—he’d been looking for a job for almost a year—but after a few more seconds, I decided patience was overrated.

  “Dad!” I whined. “Stop!”

  When he realized how upset I was, he put me down and tried to act upset too, which was like an elephant trying to act small.

  “Oh, that thing on your face isn’t so bad,” he said. “It’s probably just nerves, a rash of some sort, since school starts in a couple of days. I bet it will be gone by tonight.”

  “But what if it’s not?” I said, starting to cry.

  My dad looked nervous. I think he was trying to figure out how to deal with a crying son, while not being late for his interview.

  “Um … uh … C’mon, Jimmy …”

  “YOU NEED TO STAY HERE TODAY AND HELP ME GET RID OF MY BLOTCH!” I wailed. “MOM’S NOT HERE! YOU NEED TO STAY!”

  Then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, he said the one thing he knew would calm me down.

  “Listen, hey, maybe we should think about getting that dog after all. How about it? Whaddya say?”

  I stopped crying.

  FACT: It’s amazing how fast you can stop crying when you hear something that makes you a lot less sad than you were three seconds earlier.

  ANOTHER FACT: I should probably mention that I’ve asked my parents for a dog approximately 3,593 times in my life, and every time, they’d always say the same thing:

  “Now’s not a
good time.”

  WELL … as it turned out, throwing a tantrum because there’s a gross mark on your face, while your dad is trying to leave so he can get hired for a job, is a really good time.

  “For real? A dog?” I puffed out my cheeks so my blotch seemed even bigger. “But what about you and Mom saying it’s too much work and everyone’s too busy and Mom not wanting her rugs to get ruined and all that other stuff you always bring up when I ask for a dog?”

  My dad sighed. For a minute I thought he was going to take it back, but he didn’t. “Yeah, well, we’ll figure it out. When I get back from the city, we’ll go to the shelter.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “A few hours. But I have to leave now. Deal?”

  “Deal!” I hugged my dad. He hugged me back, then said, “Gotta go,” and ran out the door.

  I stood there, staring at my blotch in the mirror. Suddenly, it didn’t look that horrible.

  Don’t get me wrong, it still looked horrible.

  Just not that horrible.

  My mom called, and we had pretty much our usual conversation—with a few new twists.

  “Hi, honey. What are you doing?”

  “Not much.”

  “What’s your sister doing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you outside?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? It’s a beautiful day.”

  “I don’t feel like it.”

  “Go outside, Jimmy.”

  “If you really cared about me being outside, you’d be here to make sure I went outside.”

  “Jimmy, you’re being ridiculous. You know I have to work. Stop trying to make me feel guilty about it.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty about it.”

  PROFILE

  Name: Richard Bishop (father)

  Age: I forget exactly

  Occupation: Taking care of my sister and me

  Interests: Finding a job so he doesn’t have to take care of my sister and me anymore

  A brief pause as we try to not get in a fight.

  “Fine. So what are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you watching STOP! POLICE!?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Stop watching so much TV.”

  “It’s a really good episode.”

  “You need to be with people.”

  “I don’t really like that many people.”

  “What about Irwin? Why don’t you invite Irwin over?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Well, you need to get out and get some fresh air.”

  “I will, Mom. Hey, did you hear? We’re getting a dog!” (New twist.)

  “I heard. Dad told me.”

  “Isn’t that awesome?”

  “I guess.”

  “You don’t sound like you think it’s awesome.”

  “Well, I admit I was a little surprised, he should have asked me first. That’s generally how it’s done. But I guess it’s time. It will be good for you. You need something like this. But you’re going to need to be the one to take care of it.”

  PROFILE

  Name: Sarah Bishop (mother)

  Age: She’d rather not talk about it

  Occupation: Something that involves a big briefcase

  Interests: Whatever is inside that big briefcase

  “I will.”

  “We’ll see. Your father will help too, since this whole thing was his idea.”

  “I think it’s because he felt sorry for me because I have a thing on my face. Misty called it a blotch.” (Another new twist.)

  “Right. I heard about that too. I’ll take a look tonight.”

  “And also since you’re never home and he might get a job, Dad probably thought I needed a pal.”

  “Stop trying to make me feel guilty, honey.”

  “The blotch better go away before school, Mom.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will. We’ll talk later; I’m late for a meeting. Love you.”

  “Next time you see me we’ll have a dog.” (Last new twist.)

  “We’ll see. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  “Eeewww!” Irwin Wonk said, pointing at my face as we sat on the swing set that we were way too old for.

  Irwin and I have been friends ever since kindergarten, after discovering that we both liked to use potato chips to scrape the ice cream off our ice-cream sandwiches. He was a pretty good kid, and we went over to each other’s houses a lot. One day we decided to be best friends. I guess because “best friend” sounds better than “only friend.”

  But that was before I had a big blotch on my face.

  “I’m not sure I can be best friends with you anymore,” Irwin went on. “I mean, look at that thing.”

  “First of all, it’s called a blotch,” I told him. And second of all, I feel lousy enough without you being all mean about it. Why don’t you and your lisp go somewhere else?”

  PROFILE

  Name: Irwin Wonk (best friend)

  Age: 11

  Occupation: Talking too much

  Interests: Picking his nose when he thinks no one is looking

  Irwin looked hurt, and even though he had insulted me first, I felt a little guilty. He had a pretty bad lisp, which he was embarrassed about. Secretly I liked his lisp though, because it sounded really weird—and also because it meant he was less likely to find some other kid to be best friends with.

  “I’ll take it back if you take it back,” I added.

  He thought for a second, then nodded. “Okay, deal. Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about Daisy.”

  My heart immediately made a weird somersault.

  Daisy Flowers.

  Daisy Flowers.

  Daaaaiiiissssy Fffflllllooowwweeeersssss.

  FACT: You can tell what a girl is like from her name.

  Daisy had moved into the house directly across from mine at the beginning of the summer, and ever since then, Irwin and I had talked a lot about her. But we were both way too scared to actually talk to her. We didn’t really talk to any girls, especially ones named Daisy Flowers.

  “You totally like Daisy,” Irwin said.

  “I totally do not!” I said back. “You totally like Daisy!”

  “That’s a lie!”

  We sat there, glaring at each other.

  The truth was, Irwin and I both liked Daisy Flowers.

  “Let’s go over to her house and see if she wants to hang out,” Irwin suggested.

  “Maybe later,” I said.

  Irwin stomped his foot. “Not later; now! You guys are friends! I want to be friends too!”

  “We’re not friends,” I corrected.

  “You totally are,” he insisted.

  “We had one conversation.”

  “That’s one more than I’ve had!”

  I sighed. Irwin was really jealous of that conversation, even though it had lasted exactly eight seconds. One day, when I was outside reading, Daisy came out of her house. She noticed me, stopped, and actually walked over.

  “What are you reading?” she’d asked.

  “Fangs for the Memories by Elroy Evans,” I’d told her. “Jonah Forrester gets amnesia and forgets he’s a vampire, until he bites the nurse who’s taking care of him. But then he remembers and saves all the patients from an evil doctor who’s taking their kidneys and selling them.”

  PROFILE

  Name: Daisy Flowers (neighbor)

  Age: A perfect 10

  Occupation: Being perfect

  Interests: Perfection

  “That sounds good,” Daisy had said. “Gross, but good. Well, gotta go.”

  “Okay, bye,” I’d said.

  Later, when I told Irwin about it, he got really mad. He thought Daisy and I had decided to be friends without him. He wanted to be friends with her too, and he’d been really annoying about it ever since.

  “Well, I don’t care what you do, I’m going over to her house,” Irwin was s
aying now.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Yeah, right, yourself.”

  I tried to change the subject. “What kind of dog do you think I should get? Do you want to come over tonight and meet him?”

  Irwin shrugged. “Sure. Maybe I’ll come over for dinner or something.” He loved our selection of ice cream and cookies. It was one of the side benefits of having a dad home to do the shopping instead of a mom.

  “Did you know Hank Barlow has a cool police dog named Justice?” I asked Irwin. “I think he’s a German shepherd. Jonah Forrester doesn’t have a dog, but I bet if he did it would be a Doberman pinscher or something like that.”

  Irwin rolled his eyes. “What is it with you and Hank Barlow, and those stupid Jonah Forrester books? That police show is like a hundred years old, and vampires aren’t even real. And that’s cool that you’re getting a dog, but it’s dumb to talk about what kind, because you’re just going to go to the shelter and get whatever’s available.” He glanced back toward Daisy’s house. “Come on, let’s go over.”

  I was in the middle of deciding whether to yell at him because of his dumb idea to go to Daisy’s house, or yell at him because of his mean insults about Hank Barlow and Jonah Forrester, when Misty stuck her head out the front door.

  “Lunch, brats!” she hollered. Whenever Misty had to babysit me, she was the worst person alive. I think it was because since she hated doing it, she wanted to make sure I was just as miserable as she was.

  “Great!” I exclaimed, happy that Misty had saved me from a possibly really embarrassing situation. We were just getting ready to go inside when we heard a noise from across the street.

  The sound of Daisy’s front door.

  Sure enough, out she came, dressed in a bathing suit. A few seconds later, her mom followed, carrying some towels.

  We stared.

  “I wonder where they’re going,” Irwin said.

  “Maybe swimming,” I said.

  “You two are pathetic,” Misty said.

  Daisy started walking to her car, but before she got in, she looked over at us and gave us a wave.

  That was all Irwin needed, and he broke into a huge smile. “See, I told you! I knew she liked me! Excellent!”

  Just between you and me? When he said excellent, it sounded more like ekthellent.

  So my dad’s version of getting home “in a few hours” was basically eight hours later.