My Dog is Better than Your Dog Page 7

  “I see.” Mrs. Cragg thought for a second. “Well, your parents asked us to go to the park, so we should do that. Daisy, you’re welcome to come. But I don’t feel comfortable taking Abby in my car. You can play with her when you get home.”

  I thought about it for a second, then decided not to make a big deal out of it. I had to make this work with Mrs. Cragg.

  “Fine,” I said. “But let me just go say hi.”

  “Quickly,” said Mrs. Cragg.

  We ran up to my room, where Abby was sleeping in the closet.

  “Oh, she’s so cute!” squealed Daisy.

  I leaned down. “Hey, girl.” Abby woke up with a wag and licked my nose. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Shouldn’t we take her out to go to the bathroom?” Daisy asked.

  “Of course we should!” I said, embarrassed that I didn’t think of it first.

  I grabbed the leash and we headed outside. Abby blinked her eyes at the sunlight, as usual. She quickly did her business and then pulled the leash toward the spot under the house where she liked to hang out.

  “Not today, Ab,” I said. “I need to go out for a little while. But we’ll be back soon.”

  “Your babysitter doesn’t seem so bad,” Daisy said to me, as we walked Abby back to the house. “Actually, she seems really nice.”

  “I know,” I said. “Something’s different today.”

  Mrs. Cragg was waiting in the car. “Hurry, children,” she called. “We don’t want to miss the best part of the day!”

  “I’m going to sit in the back, with Daisy,” I told her.

  Mrs. Cragg shook her head. “Oh please,” she said sweetly, “sit up here with me.”

  “Okay.” I opened the door and sat down next to her cane.

  “Oh, shoot,” Daisy said. “I should go check with my mom, and make sure I can go out.”

  For a second I saw Mrs. Cragg’s eyes go dark, but then she smiled. “Well, go ahead, my dear,” she said to Daisy. “Hurry along now.”

  Daisy ran across the street to her house, leaving Mrs. Cragg and me in the car.

  “She seems like a very sweet young lady,” Mrs. Cragg said.

  “She is.” I paused, then said, “I’m sorry that Abby and you aren’t getting along. I really hope we can fix it.”

  Mrs. Cragg stared straight ahead. “Well, Jimmy, thank you for saying that. And perhaps we might have been able to, indeed.”

  “What do you mean, might have?”

  “Well, I’m a little too old to be chasing a puppy around,” she said. “As it turns out, I’ve been offered a position at a nice home with no pets.” She smiled at me. “So today will be my last day as your babysitter.”

  “Oh,” I said. I couldn’t believe it. My dream was coming true. No more fried beets! So why did I feel a little weird?

  Daisy came back and gave the thumbs-up.

  “All set,” she said, hopping in the backseat.

  We were just pulling into the street when I saw Mrs. Cragg glance in the rearview mirror, and her mouth fell open wide. “What on earth?”

  I turned around and saw Abby sprinting down the driveway, heading right toward us.

  “Abby, no!” I said, but I was too late. She jumped through the open window and landed right on my lap.

  “That dog is unbelievable!” cried Mrs. Cragg.

  “I’m so sorry,” Daisy said. “I guess we didn’t shut the front door all the way.”

  “Abby can open doors by herself!” I blurted out, which made Daisy look at me funny.

  Meanwhile, Abby was sitting there, happy as a clam, panting away.

  “Can she come, Mrs. Cragg?” I begged. “Can she, please?”

  I absolutely, positively knew that Mrs. Cragg would say no.

  Until she said, “Fine.”

  See? I told you it was a crazy day.

  The next weird thing that happened was that instead of going to Ambler’s Green, which was the popular park downtown, we went to Nash’s Swamp.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked.

  “It’s much less crowded,” answered Mrs. Cragg. “This way Abby can’t attack any other dogs or people.”

  “That wouldn’t happen,” I said.

  “Well, if it did, you know the dog would have to go back to the shelter, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Daisy piped in.

  Mrs. Cragg smiled at Daisy through the rearview mirror. “That’s right, young lady.”

  We pulled into an empty, long-abandoned parking lot. The only other things in it were weeds.

  I looked around. “What are we supposed to do here?”

  “My, aren’t we full of questions today?” Mrs. Cragg said. “You’re children, I’m sure you can figure out a way to have fun.”

  “Too bad we don’t have a ball,” Daisy said. “We could have played fetch or something.”

  Eventually we found a stick and started throwing it to Abby. Instead of bringing it back though, she wanted to be chased. So we started chasing her all over the park, until finally Daisy threw the stick back toward the car. Abby picked it up and ran up to Mrs. Cragg, wagging her tail. Then she dropped the stick at Mrs. Cragg’s feet and waited.

  “Throw it to her,” I called. “You can do it!”

  Slowly, Mrs. Cragg bent down, picked up the stick, and tossed it a few feet. It was kind of a pathetic throw, but Abby didn’t care. She tore after it, picked it up, and threw it up in the air herself! Mrs. Cragg laughed, and it seemed like a real, honest laugh.

  “She really is quite cute, I must admit.” Mrs. Cragg bent down to pet Abby, and for a brief second I was almost sad that she wasn’t going to be my babysitter anymore.

  Then we all heard the rumble of an engine. I saw Mrs. Cragg’s face change. I wasn’t sure why, but it changed.

  Two seconds later, a van turned into the lot.

  “Who the heck is that?” Daisy wondered.

  The van pulled up right next to us. On the side, it read, BRATFORD’S BESTEST BABYSITTERS! TRUST YOUR KIDS WITH THE BESTEST! BETTER THAN THE RESTEST!

  Huh?!?!?

  The door opened and out came a very tall, very large man. He was wearing the same blue-and-white-striped shirt that Baxter Bratford always wore. He had a beard that made him look like a pirate, and he smelled like he’d just jumped in a lake of cologne.

  The man saw Mrs. Cragg, smiled, and gave her a little peck on the cheek. “Nice to see you, my dear,” he said.

  My dear? Were they married or something?!?

  Then he walked over to me, pointed at my blotch, and said, “Well hey there, Swimmy Jimmy. You should fire your tattoo guy, that didn’t come out so good.”

  I felt my heart speed up.

  “You should talk,” I said back. “You’re not exactly the most handsome person I’ve ever seen.”

  Mrs. Cragg cleared her throat. “Barnaby, please don’t be rude.” Then she turned to us. “Children, this is Barnaby Bratford, my boss.”

  PROFILE

  Name: Barnaby Bratford

  Age: Old enough to have warts on his fingers

  Occupation: Owner of a babysitting company

  Interests: Raising bullies

  Mr. Bratford laughed—a wet, cough-y laugh. “Boss? Come now, I’m more than your boss. We’re family!”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Cragg said, sounding almost ashamed. “Barnaby is my older brother.”

  Jeez. Now it made sense why Mrs. Cragg was so crabby all the time. Who’d want to be related to that?

  Abby started barking and acting a bit jumpy, so I put her on the leash. Meanwhile, Mr. Bratford walked over to Mrs. Cragg’s car.

  “Do you have the paperwork?”

  Mrs. Cragg nodded. “Yes, in the glove compartment.”

  I was confused. “What’s he getting?” I asked.

  “It’s unfortunate that it didn’t work out with Agnes and your family,” Mr. Bratford said.

  Her first name was Agnes? Agnes Cragg? Jee
z, I was really starting to feel sorry for this lady.

  Mr. Bratford pulled an envelope out of the car. “It’s very important to match up the right babysitters with the right families. Unfortunately, this was not an ideal match.” He held up the envelope. “This is Mrs. Cragg’s evaluation of your family, so I can get right back to work providing a more suitable match for you next time. Well, good afternoon, everybody.”

  As he headed back to his van, Abby got even more jumpy.

  “You have to control that dog,” Mrs. Cragg whispered to me. But this time, it seemed like she was more worried than mad.

  “I’m trying!” I said, but I was failing. Daisy tried to help, but she was no use; Abby dragged us all over to Mr. Bratford’s van, where she started pawing at the door.

  Mr. Bratford looked annoyed. “What is that mutt doing?” he snarled, trying to swat Abby away and open the van door at the same time.

  “I’ll make her stop,” I said. The last thing I needed was for Abby to cause trouble with the head of the whole babysitting company.

  I bent over and said “STOP!” in as firm a voice as I could. And Abby did stop—just long enough for me and Daisy to loosen our grip on her leash.

  At which point she jumped through the window of the van, right into the front seat.

  “NOT AGAIN!” I screamed. I tried to pull Abby out, but she was already tearing through something that was on the passenger seat.

  “WHAT’S THAT DOG DOING?” Mr. Bratford hollered, reaching into the van and trying to grab Abby’s collar. But she hopped to the backseat and got away.

  I looked through the window and noticed what she was digging into: an entire box of candy bars. It looked like she’d already eaten about three.

  “Abby, you’re going to get sick again!” I screamed. If she threw up in Mr. Bratford’s car, she was going back to the shelter for sure.

  Luckily, Mr. Bratford was able to grab Abby. She still had something in her mouth though, and as Mr. Bratford pulled her through the window, she dropped it right on top of the envelope he was holding.

  It was half of a chocolate bar, still in its wrapper.

  “Hey!” Mr. Bratford hollered, staring at his chocolate-covered envelope. He quickly grabbed the candy bar—wrapper and all—and threw it on the ground.

  “You shouldn’t litter,” Daisy said.

  “You shouldn’t have a dog that steals,” he said back.

  I looked down at the wrapper. It looked just like the one that Abby found on our street after the car pulled away the night before.

  Which had also been dropped on the ground by a litterer.

  Wearing a striped shirt.

  Hold on a second.

  “Mr. Bratford, were you outside our house last night?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” he said, but I could tell he was lying.

  “What were you doing there? And who was the other person you were with?”

  “What’s going on?” Daisy asked.

  “I heard Mr. Bratford talking to someone outside my house,” I told her. “He was asking that person to bring him something. Isn’t that right, Mr. Bratford?”

  He laughed. “As if I need to explain myself to a couple of children.”

  Mr. Bratford opened the door to his van, but before he could get in, Abby jumped up and started pawing at the envelope in his hands, which was still smeared with chocolate.

  “Abby, you’re being such a pig!” I yelled. “Stop it!”

  I tried to yank her away, but Abby just started pawing harder.

  “GET OFF ME!” yelled Mr. Bratford, trying to push Abby off—but as he swatted at her, the envelope fell to the ground.

  Before anyone could react, Abby ripped open the envelope and started licking it all over. She was only interested in the chocolate, but the rest of us were staring at what had fallen out of the envelope.

  It wasn’t an evaluation, or even a piece of paper at all. It was something small and shiny. At first I couldn’t tell what it was, but then I saw it glisten in the sunlight. It was a beautiful diamond necklace.

  My mother’s diamond necklace.

  Her favorite diamond necklace. The one she’d worn two nights earlier. The one Mrs. Cragg had called “truly magnificent.”

  My heart started racing.

  My blotch felt like it was going to explode.

  I looked at Mrs. Cragg. She was making a face I’d never seen her make before. I couldn’t quite figure it out at first. Then I realized what it was.

  She was scared.

  “Th-this isn’t what it looks like,” she stammered. “Your parents gave me the necklace, as a going-away present.”

  I stared at her. I realized exactly what was happening, and I suddenly felt totally calm. Like I was the one in control, for once.

  Like Jonah Forrester. Like Hank Barlow. Like Daisy. Like Abby.

  “I know what you two are,” I said. “You’re criminals. You’re thieves. You stole my mother’s necklace and you’re going to go to jail.”

  “I can explain,” whispered Mrs. Cragg, but it was clear she couldn’t. She shrank backward and started crying.

  “Oh, stop your sobbing,” Mr. Bratford snarled at his sister. “Unless you’re crying because you feel bad, because you ruined everything!” He was pacing like a caged animal.

  “I’m sorry, Barnaby,” she murmured.

  Mr. Bratford bent down to put the necklace in his pocket, then turned to us. “It’s a shame that you kids had to get caught in the middle of all this,” he said. “I’m sure you understand, it’s very important that none of you ever mention any of this to anyone. Ever. You have no idea what happened to the necklace. If you ever say anything, someone might get hurt.”

  Daisy and I stood there, frozen. Mr. Bratford reached for Abby.

  “Now, about this dog here. I need to take her with me. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I don’t understand, and you can’t have her!” I said as Abby growled.

  “Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll give her a good home.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “These kids did nothing wrong!” Mrs. Cragg said. She looked at Abby. “And the dog is a little nuts, but—well, kind of cute.”

  “This is none of your concern.” Mr. Bratford sneered at his sister.

  Mr. Bratford was just about to grab Abby, when the next totally crazy thing happened.

  “Enough!” Mrs. Cragg yelled. Then, without another word, Mrs. Cragg suddenly ripped her own hair off her head—that’s right, I said her own hair off her head—and wrapped it around Mr. Bratford’s eyes, like a blindfold.

  “Your beautiful red hair!” I exclaimed. “It’s a wig! Mrs. Cragg, you’re bald!”

  “Must be a family condition,” Daisy explained. “Baxter’s bald too.”

  FACT: There are a lot of great bald people in the world. But unfortunately, none of them are in this book.

  “That’s not important right now!” I said, which was the understatement of the year.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Bratford was flailing around. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” he screamed at his sister.

  “Run, kids!” Mrs. Cragg yelled. “Take Abby and run for your lives!”

  And so, we did.

  We ran for our lives.

  Five seconds later, Mr. Bratford was running after us.

  Daisy, Abby, and I had been sprinting for about three minutes before I realized something.

  I had no idea where we were going. And neither did anyone else.

  Meanwhile, we’d heard an engine start up, so we knew Barnaby Bratford was coming after us.

  We stopped in the middle of the woods. All three of us were panting hard.

  “My mom is going to be wondering where I am,” Daisy said. “I told her I’d be home by four thirty.” Then she looked at me and grinned. “Oh well.”

  I looked at her. “Aren’t you even scared at all?”

  “Of course I am!” she said. “I’m really scared. But also, this is the most excitemen
t I’ve had in a long time.” She bent down to scratch Abby’s ears. “Besides, Abby’s here, and she’ll protect us, won’t you, girl?”

  I looked at the two of them and suddenly felt better. Why should I be scared? I had people (and a dog) who cared about me and would protect me. And I would protect them. We would protect each other.

  It’s like Jonah Forrester always says: Some things are worth fighting for. That was the line I always said from the roof at—

  Wait a second.

  That’s it!

  “I know where we can go,” I told Daisy and Abby. They both looked at me.

  “Out here, in the middle of nowhere?” Daisy asked.

  “There’s an old abandoned beach club on the other side of the swamp, called the Boathouse,” I said. “It’s a neat place to hang out.”

  “Cool!” Daisy said. Then she scratched her head. “But what will we do there?”

  “There’s a roof-deck. We can hide there until they give up looking for us. Then we go home and call the police.”

  Abby, meanwhile, had spotted a squirrel and suddenly yanked so hard on the leash that my arm almost came off.

  “I see what you mean about Abby,” Daisy said. “If she hadn’t spotted that box of candy bars, we never would have found out about the diamond necklace. That was awesome.”

  “Abby’s awesome in general,” I said. “Super awesome.” Then, before I could stop myself, I added, “And you’re awesome too.”

  Daisy smiled at me. I smiled at her. It was super-duper-duper awesome.

  Then I remembered there was someone out there who wasn’t awesome at all. And he was looking for us.

  “We should probably go,” I said, feeling like an actual leader all of a sudden.

  “Okay,” Daisy said, nodding. “Which way?”

  “I know a dirt road. It will get us there faster.”

  She frowned. “Don’t we want to stay off the roads though?”

  “Trust me—no one even knows about it.”

  We cut through an old picnic area that still had a few broken-down old tables sitting there like they were begging for people to use them.

  “See?” I said, grinning, as we turned onto the dirt road. It had so many vines and bushes growing over it that I didn’t think any car could get down it anyway.