It's a Doggy Dog World Read online

  After practice, I was waiting for my mom when I saw a car pull up and a familiar face get out.

  Or should I say, a familiar wig.

  I blinked to see if I was seeing things, but I wasn’t. Mrs. Cragg was walking straight toward me.

  PROFILE UPDATE

  Name: Mrs. Cragg

  Age: A lot

  Occupation: My hunch is that she doesn’t have one right now.

  Interests: Trying to put the past behind her

  In case you didn’t know, Mrs. Cragg was Baxter’s aunt, and my last babysitter. She was a little crazy, she hated Abby, and she helped her brother Barnaby steal my mom’s valuable necklace.

  Other than that, she was perfect.

  She looked the same: her wrinkly face, her yellow teeth, and her bright red wig. But something was missing.

  I think it was the scariness.

  When she saw me, she stopped short. “Oh my, Jimmy! I certainly didn’t expect to see you. Are you a lacrosse player?”

  “I guess so, yeah. Uh, how are you, Mrs. Cragg?”

  She seemed nervous. “Oh, I’m … doing much better, thank you. Back on my feet, as it were. I’m just picking up Baxter.”

  “He’s still down on the field, getting his equipment together.”

  “I see.” Mrs. Cragg smiled, and I suddenly felt sorry for her. Things must have been really hard for her since she and her brother got arrested. She didn’t have to go to jail because she tried to help us in the end, but everyone in town knew who she was. Or, who she used to be.

  “Well,” she said. “Very nice to see you again, Jimmy. Take care.”

  “You too,” I said, and I watched her walk down the hill.

  “That was weird,” I mumbled to myself.

  “What was?” I heard a voice say. I turned around and Chad Knight was standing there.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just waiting for my mom.”

  “Oh.” Chad said. “Gotcha.”

  Then he said seven words I never thought I’d hear:

  “Hey, Jimmy, what are you doing Saturday?”

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  “Are you around?” Chad asked. “Sometimes we have barbecues at my house after Saturday games, and it would be cool if you could come.”

  “Wow, uh, yeah, that’d be awesome,” I said, even though I was immediately panicking a little in my head. Saturdays were usually reserved for the CrimeBiters.

  “So you can come?” Chad asked.

  “Yeah, totally. Thanks.”

  Baxter, meanwhile, was walking up the hill with his aunt. When he saw me talking with Chad, he immediately came over. “Oh, hey, uh, have you guys seen my, uh, my baloney sandwich?”

  FACT: When coming up with an excuse to join a conversation, you need to do better than “Have you guys seen my baloney sandwich?”

  “Nope,” I said.

  “Oh, okay. I thought I dropped it around here.” He lingered, pretending to look for his nonexistent sandwich. “So, what are you guys talking about?”

  “Jimmy’s gonna come over to my house after the game on Saturday to hang out,” Chad said, apparently completely unaware that what he was saying would crush Baxter’s soul. “Toss the ball around, maybe swim a little bit, that kind of thing.”

  “Oh, cool,” Baxter said to Chad, but he was staring at me.

  “Yeah, uh, probably just for a little while,” I said. Chad looked confused, so I added, “I usually have this thing I do with my friends every Saturday.”

  “What kind of thing?” Chad asked.

  Baxter was looking at me, waiting for me to answer. I could have so easily said we have this gang, and it’s called CrimeBiters, and it’s really cool, and you can be in it if you want, and it’s made us all really brave, and our job is to protect Quietville from crime, with the help of my dog, Abby, and it’s the best and most fun thing in my life, and I love doing it with my best friends—but I didn’t.

  Instead, I just said, “Oh, nothing. It’s cool. I can probably skip it.”

  Right at that moment, I felt about as brave as a mouse.

  “I GOT A JOB!” my dad announced that night at dinner.

  Misty and I looked up but didn’t stop eating. Mom wasn’t home yet, as usual, and it was Wednesday night, which meant we always ordered the best fried chicken in the world, from Beak-a-boo. An announcement like this, no matter how important, wasn’t going to distract us from our dining duty.

  Misty chomped on a wing. “For real?” Dad hadn’t had a full-time job for the last few years. It wasn’t something we talked about very much.

  “Well, that’s a good question,” Dad said. “It could become real, if I play my cards right.”

  “Congratulations, Dad,” I said, taking a big gulp of lemonade.

  “Thanks,” he said. “The thing is, though, it might mean we need to find some after-school help.”

  “Dad!” snapped Misty. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Fine,” my dad said. “Let’s call it a chauffeur, then. Whatever you want to call this person, we’re going to need an adult around here Tuesdays and Thursdays, starting next week.”

  “How about Mrs. Cragg?” I blurted out, before even realizing that idea had formed in my brain.

  My father and sister stared at me like I had two heads. If I could have, I would have stared at myself like I had two heads too.

  “What the heck are you talking about?” said my dad.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I just thought … maybe she’s not so bad.”

  “Not so bad?” said my sister. “NOT SO BAD? She’s a criminal! She’s a thief! She almost killed you!” That last one was a slight exaggeration, but still—my sister had a point.

  “I saw her today after practice,” I told them. “She was picking up Baxter and she seemed different. Like, sad and lonely.” I wiped my mouth with my shirt. “And I don’t really blame her for what happened. I mean, I do, but I don’t. She was so scared of her brother. She did whatever he told her to do, because she was worried that he would hurt her. But eventually she turned against him. She even tried to help us.” It was true. She helped us escape and tried to protect us from her brother in the end.

  “What about when she locked Abby in the closet?” asked my dad. “I can’t believe you would ever forgive her for that.”

  “I know,” I said. “But at the same time, Abby had stolen her dinner and vomited all over her hair.”

  “Wig,” corrected Misty.

  “Right. Wig.” I took a bite of a drumstick. “Anyway, I think maybe sometimes people deserve a second chance.”

  My dad sat back in his chair and sighed. “Okay, let’s think about this for a minute,” he said. “I have to say, this is the last thing I would have thought of, given everything that happened. But I’m really impressed with your attitude here, Jimmy, and I’m willing to consider it. If Mom is okay with the whole idea, then we can give it a try.”

  “Great,” I said. Helping Mrs. Cragg made me feel good, for some reason.

  “So I guess she’s not in jail, huh?” my dad asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Community service.”

  “You’re BOTH nuts,” Misty said. “And by the way, Abby HATED Mrs. Cragg. This is NOT going to go well at ALL.”

  FACT: Sisters TALK like THIS a lot, where they REALLY EMPHASIZE certain WORDS.

  My dad looked at me. “Yeah, that’s a good point. What about Abby?”

  “No problem,” I said, but I suddenly started panicking inside. I hadn’t thought about that. I looked down at Abby, who was hanging out under the kitchen table, playing with one of my old sneakers I didn’t wear anymore. “We have obedience training tonight,” I said. “I’ll talk to Shep about it. He’ll know what to do.”

  “You can start by making sure Abby doesn’t rip Mrs. Cragg’s wig off her head,” Misty said.

  After my mom got home, my dad mentioned the Mrs. Cragg idea to her, and the first thing she said was, “Just don
’t let her near the kitchen.” That was a reference to Mrs. Cragg’s habit of cooking the most disgusting food ever known to humankind.

  “Will do,” said my dad and I, at the same time.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” my mom asked me.

  I nodded. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” said my mom. “Let’s try it.”

  Later that night, when my mom was driving Abby and me to obedience training, I turned the radio on and she turned it right back off. That was a sign she wanted to talk.

  Oh, well.

  “Are you okay with Dad getting a job?” she asked.

  “Are you?” I asked back.

  She nodded. “Of course! The only thing we all want is for Dad to be happy. This might be important to help make that happen.”

  “Are you saying Dad isn’t happy staying home and taking care of us?” I knew the question wasn’t really fair, but I asked it anyway.

  “Of course he is,” she said. “But that’s a different kind of happy. It’s ‘being a dad’ kind of happy. But some people need more than that. Some people need ‘I love my job’ kind of happy too.”

  “Like you, you mean?” I guess I was in an unfair-question kind of mood.

  My mom turned the radio on. I guess she didn’t really want to talk after all.

  “I love this song,” she said, even though a commercial was playing.

  “WASSUP, PRINCESS?” Shep said to Abby when we walked into class. He scratched her under her chin, right where she loved it. “You ready to be good?”

  “Oh, she’s ready,” I said.

  Shep nodded. “Let’s do this.” He clapped his hands together, and all the dogs and owners gathered in a circle, the way we always did.

  “Tonight,” Shep announced, “you are going to trust your dogs.”

  We all looked at each other.

  “Meaning, you are going to let them learn on their own,” he explained. “When you release their leashes, you release their ability to grow.”

  Nobody moved.

  “Release the leashes,” Shep repeated.

  As one, we all dropped the leashes. Most of the dogs stayed calm and well-behaved, but Thor started jumping around and spinning in circles. Thor hadn’t really improved his behavior much at all since the classes began, and it totally drove Mr. Swab crazy. It was pretty enjoyable to watch, to be honest with you.

  “Thor!” Mr. Swab hollered. “Up on your feet!” But instead Thor rolled over and scratched his back on the wood floor. Mr. Swab looked like he was about to have a stroke. “This class isn’t working at all!”

  Shep rolled his eyes. “With some dogs it takes a bit longer.” He pointed at Abby. “Now this girl here, she seems to be at the head of the class.”

  Abby looked up at him and wagged her tail.

  “I think your dog’s hilarious,” I told Mr. Swab. “He’s got a great personality.” I looked at Abby, who was sitting perfectly still, waiting to be told what to do next. You could use a little bit of that personality, I thought, then immediately felt guilty for thinking it.

  Mr. Swab, meanwhile, kept staring at his dog and scowling. “Is there a money-back guarantee for this class?”

  Shep ignored him. “Today we’re going to try something different,” he said. “I’m going to encourage the dogs to behave badly—should be perfect for Thor—and you’re going to have to overrule me. They need to start listening to you more than me. I call this exercise Just Chew It.”

  We headed outside and there were a bunch of old chairs lined up in the yard. One leg on each chair was wrapped in bacon. The dogs immediately got hyper. Thor started howling like a hyena.

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” said Mr. Swab.

  Shep pointed at the chairs. “Go!” he commanded, and each dog ran to a chair and started gnawing on the bacon. It was a madhouse of grabbing, licking, and slurping.

  FACT: There are very few things that dogs like more than bacon. Actually, now that I think about it, there are no things a dog likes more than bacon.

  “Now tell your dogs to stop!” Shep urged. “Tell them to rest!”

  I walked over to Abby. “Stop!” I hollered. “Abby, rest! Rest now!”

  Amazingly enough, she stopped.

  Meanwhile, I looked over and saw that Thor was so desperate to get at his bacon that he ripped the leg right off his chair. “Stop!” Mr. Swab yelled, but Thor looked like he couldn’t care less—he just kept on doing his thing.

  Believe it or not, I felt a little jealous of Mr. Swab right about then.

  Shep came over to me. “Abby is really doing fantastic,” he said.

  “I know,” I said. “It’s crazy. She used to be completely out of control.”

  “You don’t seem all that thrilled about her progress.”

  “No, I am!” I insisted. “She was driving my parents nuts. Well, my mom, really. So I’m happy and relieved that she’s doing so great.”

  Meanwhile, Mr. Swab had put Thor back on his leash. “That was a stupid exercise,” he was saying, to anyone who would listen. “How am I supposed to get my dog to just stop eating bacon?”

  Shep looked at him. “You’re used to things going your way, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Mr. Swab looked back. “If you’re asking if I’m competitive and like to win, well then yes, I am and I do. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, pal. It’s how I got to where I am today.”

  Shep smiled. “By the looks of things, it’s more of a dog-eat-bacon world,” he said.

  THE NEXT DAY AT LUNCH, I really wanted to tell the other guys about the obedience training. Baxter was the only one there so far, so he was my first victim.

  “And Abby was acting perfectly, and this other dog Thor was acting like a lunatic, and I was wishing that it was the other way around! Isn’t that crazy?”

  Baxter nodded the way someone nods when they don’t really care one way or the other.

  “Well, you had to be there,” I said. “It was really weird.”

  “Okay.” Baxter looked way more interested in his meatball hero.

  Suddenly we heard footsteps behind us. I heard Daisy’s voice say, “Let’s ask these guys!”

  Baxter and I turned around to see Daisy and Mara, getting ready to sit down at our table.

  Oh great, I thought. Here we go again.

  “Ask us what?” I said.

  Daisy was holding a sheet of paper in her hand. “Look what Mara found in her locker!”

  Daisy handed me the sheet, which had been ripped out of a notebook. It had four words written on it, in giant red marker:

  “What is it?” Baxter asked, leaning over my shoulder.

  “Mara has a secret admirer,” Daisy explained.

  I was confused. “A what?”

  “She’s been finding these notes hidden inside her desk for, like, a week. One said YOUR HAIR IS PRETTY. Then the next one said NICE DRESS.” Daisy took the paper back from me. “And now this one.”

  Mara nodded in excitement. “That’s right! I can’t figure out who it is and so I thought I’d ask Daisy if the CrimeBiters could help me!”

  Irwin walked up to the table with a tuna-fish-and-onion sandwich. (In case you’re wondering, yup, it smelled as bad as it sounds.) “What are you guys doing?”

  “We have a new crime to solve,” Baxter said. “The case of the boy who likes Mara’s hair.”

  “That’s not a crime,” I said. “That’s a mystery. We’re not the MysteryBiters. We’re the CrimeBiters. And besides, I thought you thought our gang was silly. Now you want our help?”

  Mara looked at me like I’d just thrown something at her.

  “You’re not being very nice,” Daisy told me.

  “Sor-RY,” I answered.

  “Let me see that,” Irwin said. He grabbed the note out of Daisy’s hand and started studying it as if he were examining the just-discovered first draft of the Declaration of Independence. In other words, very, very carefully.

  “While technically this ma
y not be a crime,” Irwin said finally, “it is still a case that needs to be solved, and I am willing to help solve it.” He eyed me coldly. “Even if you and Baxter are too busy with lacrosse to participate.”

  “Yay!” Mara exclaimed.

  “Oooh, goodie!” Daisy said. “Mysteries are kind of fun and romantic.”

  “I don’t think it’s fun and romantic at all,” I said. “You guys go solve your little mystery. Let us know what happens.” I nudged Baxter’s elbow and rolled my eyes. “We’re dying to know, aren’t we, Baxter?”

  “Actually, I’d like to help,” Baxter said. “I can meet you guys after practice.”

  “Fine!” I said, picking up my tray. “I’m going to go eat lunch somewhere else.”

  “Jimmy, come on,” Daisy said, but I was already walking away. I spotted Chad and some of the other lacrosse kids and headed over to their table.

  “Hey, Jimmy!” Chad said. “Take a seat.”

  “Cool, thanks,” I said, sitting down.

  “What took you so long?” said Billy Clay, one of Chad’s friends. I didn’t really know Billy, since he didn’t play lacrosse, but I’d heard rumors he was an amazing basketball player. “I was beginning to think you were going to sit with those dorks forever.”

  I felt my ears start to turn red, but I didn’t say anything. Luckily, Chad did.

  “Mind your own business,” he told Billy. Then he turned to me. “Don’t worry about him—he can be a real jerk.”

  I was still busy trying to decide if I was being a jerk when the bell rang.

  End of lunch.

  THE MINUTE I WALKED IN THE DOOR AFTER SCHOOL, I recognized the whistling.

  “Hello?” I called.

  “In here,” came the voice that used to make my skin prickle with dread.

  I went into the kitchen and there she was: Mrs. Cragg, my onetime nemesis, the woman who made me eat fried green blech for dinner, the woman who tried to steal my mom’s favorite necklace.

  And here’s the crazy part: I was happy to see her.

  And here’s the other crazy part: Something smelled delicious.

  “Jimmy!” she said. “It’s wonderful to see you.”