Dog's Best Friend Read online

  So I started off by making a map, even if it wasn’t the kind they meant. This one was a drawing of our neighborhood, with everyone we knew who had a dog.

  Then I spent some time thinking about the money part, which is my favorite topic. First, I looked up the price of a WormHole. It was $399 for the same system Flip had, and it came preloaded with three games, including TrollQuest.

  So here’s what I figured. I’d put half of everything I made in the bank. I already had fifteen dollars and forty-two cents in my savings account, which meant I still had to raise three hundred and eighty-some for the WormHole.

  Then I’d keep the other half of what I earned stashed in my room for everything else. That way I wouldn’t have to ask Mom every time I needed a dollar, or two, or ten.

  After I looked at a couple more websites, I decided I could charge five bucks a walk. I didn’t know how many dogs I could do in a day, but even if it was just three, that would be fifteen bucks right there.

  Then I pulled out my calculator and really started getting excited. Because fifteen bucks times seven was a hundred and five dollars a week. And a hundred and five times four was four hundred and twenty bucks a month.

  In fact, I thought, why stop there? Did Steve Jobs know he was going to be a zillionaire when he started building computers? Probably not. Did Jay-Z know he was recording his first million-selling platinum song when he made it? Probably not.

  I’m not saying I was going to make a zillion bucks for sure. I’m just saying you can’t buy a lottery ticket without thinking about winning, right? So you might as well think big.

  And if you can manage that, you might as well think REALLY big.

  In fact, I could just see it now…

  A Mogul in My Own Mind

  There I am on my corporate jet, taking a bath in hundred-dollar bills while we zoom down to Miami for the weekend. We’ve got the opening of our one thousandth location coming up tomorrow, and it’s our biggest one yet. Because what McDonald’s is to hamburgers, that’s what we’re going to be to dog-walking.

  This whole corporate empire thing is going way better than I ever could have imagined. Actually, scratch that. It’s going exactly as well as I imagined. Good thing I remembered to think BIG.

  So as soon as I finish covering myself in that new-money smell, I hop out of the tub and throw on one of those extra-fluffy robes. I’m late for a business meeting with my Corporate Vice-President.

  And by business meeting, I mean the all-you-can-eat burger bar in the jet’s executive dining room.

  And by Vice-President, of course, I mean Junior.

  “How are our earnings looking this quarter?” I ask, once we’re sitting down to a couple of armadillo-size burgers.

  Junior just gives me a paws-up, since his mouth is full. Not to mention, dogs can’t talk. At least, not yet. We’re still working on that bark-to-speech technology in the lab, but it’s looking good for a summer rollout.

  Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure huge corporations can have a whole ton of Vice-Presidents, so I’m cutting Flip in on this too. Junior is VP of Sales, Marketing, Kibble, and Treats.

  And Flip is VP in Charge of All the Cool Stuff We Can Do Now That This Company Is Practically Made of Money.

  Like for instance, opening the world’s first life-size, interactive TrollQuest QuestPark we have planned.

  And the tropical island I’m buying Mom for Mother’s Day.

  And the luxury ski condo for Grandma Dotty.

  And maybe a nice pair of socks for Georgia.

  Because you know what they say when you’re thirty thousand feet up in your own private jet, with a mouthful of bacon-cheddar pizzaburger and nothing but profit on the horizon, right?

  The sky’s the limit, baby! Think big! Dream on!

  And thank you for your business.

  First Customer…ish

  When I got up the next morning, Mom was already long gone to work. Grandma was out playing mah-jongg at the senior center, and Georgia was doing homework. On vacation. Of course.

  Now that we were both in middle school, we were allowed to be home alone for part of the daytime. So I was going to use that.

  “I’m taking Junior for a walk,” I said, and left out the rest. I didn’t need Georgia knowing my business. At least, not until I actually had one.

  And since I hadn’t told Mom about it either, I stayed pretty close to home. For the time being, I was just going to talk to people we already knew. And the closest one of those on my map was Mr. Schneider, who lived around the corner.

  Mr. Schneider was this really old guy who walked with a cane, even just to get the mail. He also had an old sheepdog named Max. I didn’t know if Max needed much exercise, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

  “Rafe!” Mr. Schneider said when he answered the door. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was actually coming over to ask you about walking Max,” I said.

  “About what?” he said, putting a wrinkly hand up to his ear.

  “Walking Max!” I said louder.

  “Really?” he said. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

  “Great!” I said.

  “Maxie!” he called out. Then he kind of shuffled back inside.

  And I thought—cha-ching! I’d been in business for two minutes and I already had my first customer.

  “It’s five dollars a walk!” I yelled inside. “And I’ll need your leash! Also, I have my own bags. Those are included, no charge!”

  “Just one sec,” Mr. Schneider called back.

  A whole bunch of seconds later, he came to the door again. This time he had Max on a leash, and an empty plastic bag.

  “You’re going to want this,” he said, and gave me the bag. “Maxie makes some big number twos.”

  “Uh… okay,” I said, and shoved it in my pocket, even though I didn’t need it. “Do you want me to walk him every day, or—”

  “Well, that would be better than sliced steak!” he said. “I sure do appreciate this, Rafe.”

  “It’s no problem,” I told him.

  “I wish I could pay you, but…”

  “Wait—huh?” I said.

  “Social Security just isn’t what it used to be,” he said. “You know how it is.”

  Actually, I didn’t know anything just then. Including what had just happened. Because now I was holding Max’s leash and Mr. Schneider was already closing the door.

  It’s not like I minded doing Mr. Schneider the favor. He was really nice, and it didn’t seem like anyone ever came to visit him. It was just that… well, duh. You can’t buy too many private jets with favors.

  Then, before I could make a move, the door opened again.

  “Hang on there, Rafe,” he said. “I forgot to pull that quarter out of your ear.”

  “The what out of my what?” I asked.

  “Nothing in my hand, see?” he said, and held it up to show me. Then he reached over by my head, and I heard this tiny flick sound before he pulled a quarter out of nowhere.

  “How’d you do that?” I said.

  “Same way you get to Carnegie Hall,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “Practice, practice, practice!” he said. Then he put the quarter in my hand. “That’s for you, my friend.”

  I still didn’t know what to do. I mean, what would you do? I figured I was stuck for at least one walk. I’d worry about the rest later. So I just said thanks and shoved that quarter in my pocket.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I told him.

  “Take your time,” he said.

  And I thought—Yeah, right. I didn’t have time to take my time. I had to get back to making real money, ASAP.

  The Sweet Smell of Success

  By the end of winter break, I had three paying customers, on top of Mr. Schneider. (I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was going to stop walking Max, so I just kept doing it.)

  Mr. Tohtz said he could use some early-morning help with Chester. Mr. and Mrs. Johnston said they wanted me to
come in the afternoons to take Marshmallow out for a squirt. And Mrs. Calhoun asked me to check with her once a week about helping take care of her two pugs, Frick and Frack.

  I finally told Mom about all of it, and she thought it was great. She even said I could hand out some flyers at the Park and Bark.

  So I did. And I came up with a real name for my business too.

  That didn’t leave me much time to hang out at Flip’s house, but I did spend the last Friday night of vacation over there. We played TrollQuest until midnight, when his parents told us to turn it off. Which we did, for about twenty minutes. Then we put on headphones and played until four in the morning. It was like a perfect night, except it made me want my own system even more.

  Meanwhile, the money was adding up. By that Sunday, I had fifty-five bucks stuck in the shoe box in the back of my bottom desk drawer. And even though I was supposed to be saving, I told Mom I wanted to take everyone out to dinner.

  We went to one of my favorite places, Dave & Buster’s, and I paid for the whole thing.

  “I’m impressed, Rafe,” Mom said, and raised a glass of root beer so we could toast.

  “Cheers, cheers, and cheers!” Grandma said, and clinked with everyone.

  As for Georgia, I think she actually felt jealous of me for the first time in her life. So let’s just say it was a pretty good night.

  But of course, it couldn’t last forever. Vacation was ending. School was starting up again.

  And the Great Dog War was just around the corner.

  What Could Be Worse? (Wait, Don’t Answer That!)

  So there I was the next morning, sitting in homeroom and wondering how many days until spring break. I didn’t have much to complain about, though. Miller the Killer wasn’t my mortal archnemesis super-enemy anymore, after we’d been on the football team together. He still shot me hungry looks like he’d love to pound my face in, but so far he’d held up our truce.

  The usual announcements came on and Mrs. Stricker said a bunch of stuff about band practice, and lunch menus, and blah blah blah…

  But then right at the end, she said, “Would Georgia Khatchadorian please report to the office right away? Thank you, and have a pleasant day.”

  And I thought, That’s weird. When someone gets called to the office, it’s usually because they’re in trouble. But Georgia gets in trouble about as often as the Ice Age comes around, so that didn’t seem too likely.

  Even if it was fun to think about.

  Unfortunately, it turned out to be more like the opposite of that. Because when I walked into first-period English, guess who was sitting at one of the desks, wearing a smug-looking smile?

  “What are you doing here?” I said. “This is my class.”

  “Try ‘our class,’” Georgia said. “I’m going to be in here from now on. It’s like permanent extra credit.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

  “Not even a little,” she said.

  I couldn’t believe it. Up to now, the one good thing about school was that my sister had her own grade and her own classes. In other words, it was the one place on earth where she was required by law to stay away from me.

  Not anymore. Now I was going to be starting every day for the rest of the year with Georgia getting her brains all over me. It made me want to jump out the nearest window and start running.

  “All right, people,” Mrs. Stonecase said. “Let’s get started. Rafe, where’s your copy of Island of the Blue Dolphins?”

  “It’s in my locker,” I said. “I’ll go get it.”

  I figured I could eat up at least ten minutes of the period that way. But even that backfired.

  “You can just look on with your sister,” Mrs. Stonecase said. “Have a seat.”

  In other words, I was as deep into the Georgia zone as I could get now. Great.

  “I’ll bet this is driving you crazy,” Georgia said.

  “Whatever,” I told her. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

  “Oh, and by the way—” she said.

  “Quiet, please!” Mrs. Stonecase said. “Now, as we discuss this story, I want you all to think about three things…”

  I didn’t hear much after that except the sound of my sister’s head getting bigger and bigger. Also, she kept nudging me and trying to get my attention. But I just kept my eyes down and locked on that book like she wasn’t even there.

  A minute later, I heard a scribbling sound next to me. Then this little note slid under my nose—FWIP!—right where I couldn’t possibly miss it.

  Which of course was the whole point.

  Never Let Them See You Sweat

  By the time I got to lunch, I was feeling lower than Death Valley.

  I managed to survive English and social studies with Georgia, but we still had sixth-period science to go. Not to mention the WHOLE REST OF THE SCHOOL YEAR.

  On the bright side, I managed to come up with that new Loozer comic. I did it during silent reading in English when I was supposed to be figuring out what that Island of the Blue Dolphins was all about.

  Believe it or not, people actually liked my Loozer stuff. Sure, some of the comics were kind of about me and my problems, which I don’t always want everyone to know about. And my Leo the Silent character was based on my real-life twin brother, who died when we were three. Who knows what he would’ve been like, but in my mind he was a pretty great friend. That’s something else I don’t go blabbing about either. The other kids think I’m weird enough already.

  Anyway, I’d been putting it in the school newspaper like a regular comic strip. The paper was called Fine Print, and I worked on it two days a week at lunch with Jeanne Galletta.

  If you know my story, you know that:

  1. I’ve been crazy about Jeanne from the day I met her.

  2. She was more likely to fall in love with a whole-wheat bagel than she was with me.

  3. After a couple of world-class disasters in the romance department, we became friends. And I mean like real friends, where I don’t turn red and swallow my tongue when I try to talk to her. For me, that’s a huge improvement.

  So at lunch, I showed her the Brainzilla comic to see if it passed the Jeanne test. If she doesn’t laugh, I don’t put it in the paper.

  “This is funny,” Jeanne said.

  “Cool, I’ll scan it in,” I said.

  “Well…” she said. “This is about Georgia, right?” she said. “I heard she got put into some of your classes, and—”

  “You heard that?” I asked. “From who?”

  But I was pretty sure I already knew the answer. Georgia! Seriously, my sister’s mouth could have its own twenty-four-hour news channel.

  “It’s none of my business, Rafe, but do you really want the whole school knowing how you feel about this?” Jeanne asked.

  “Is it that obvious?” I said.

  “Kind of,” she said. Which was just a nice way of saying yes.

  So I crumpled up that comic and threw it in the trash. Right before I took it back out and stuck it in my backpack. I’m not saying Georgia could actually sniff it out like a bloodhound on steroids. But on the other hand, why take chances?

  Oh well. Back to the drawing board.

  Fake It Till You Make It

  I probably should have left the whole thing alone. But if you have a little brother or sister, you might know how it is. Sometimes they’re just begging to be messed with. Am I right?

  I couldn’t out-brainiac Georgia, but I could still get inside her head. So by the time we sat down for dinner that night, I knew just what I wanted to do.

  It started when Mom was dishing up the jalapeño meatloaf (yum!) and Georgia started yakking about how she’d gotten bumped into my classes.

  “Well, that’s wonderful,” Grandma said. “Maybe you two can work on your homework together.”

  “Speaking of homework,” I said, “after dinner, I’m going to need a hammer, a roll of masking tape, and an orange for science.”
/>   “What science? We don’t have any science homework,” Georgia said right away—just like a fish chomping down on a fat, juicy worm.

  Now all I had to do was reel her in.

  “It’s for the science fair,” I said.

  “What science fair?” Georgia kept going.

  But I didn’t say anything after that. I just went back to mowing down my meatloaf.

  Because here’s what else I knew about my sister. It didn’t matter if she mostly believed me or not. All I needed was one tiny little doubt. That was enough to drive her crazy.

  I mean, even crazier than she already was.

  So when I was done eating, I just collected up my fake science stuff and headed to my room. Sure enough, once I closed the door, it was like five, four, three, two—

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

  “Rafe?” Georgia yelled.

  I pulled off a long piece of masking tape and wrapped one end around the orange. Then I started swinging it around like I was testing it for gravity or something.

  “You can come in,” I said, and she did.

  “There’s not really a science fair,” she said. “Right?”

  “What does it look like?” I said.

  “I think you’re just making this up to annoy me,” she said.

  “Hmmm,” I said, and started swinging that orange in the opposite direction. “That does sound like something I’d do. But I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

  “Please? Just tell me yes or no,” she said. You could practically smell the desperation in the air.

  “Rafe!” Mom yelled from the living room. “Does she have science homework or not?”

  Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.