Boys Are Dogs (11 page)

As I read the words, I could just picture Jackson walking down the hall with confidence and control, like he owned the whole school, like he could do whatever he wanted to do.

Lots of boys at Birchwood acted this way—come to think of it, plenty of girls, did too. And because they had this attitude, people let them get away with anything. Which just gave them more of an attitude, and more power.

Then I thought about how I’d been walking around school—rushing from place to place, totally lost and confused, my eyes on the ground, my posture hesitant and even slouchy. I hugged my books tightly against my chest. In trying to become invisible, so no one would tease me, I’d acted totally weak. No wonder boys picked on me. I was sending out wimpy signals.

But maybe it wasn’t too late to change. Maybe I could learn how to swagger. I stood up and walked across the room with my head back and my shoulders swaying. Okay, it felt weird, and I probably looked dorky, but at least I had time to practice.

That night at dinner, Pepper sat at my feet, whining and begging and watching every bite of food as it traveled from my plate to my mouth. Just to see what would happen, I waved my empty fork around in the air. He followed that, too.

“Maybe we should put him back in the kennel,” said Dweeble.

“He’ll be there all night,” I argued. “It’s not fair.”

“We really need to teach him not to beg,” said Mom.

“I’ll add it to the list,” I replied tiredly, as I pushed a cherry tomato across my plate.

“So tell me more about school,” Mom said.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Oh, come on. It’s middle school. You have six new teachers and lots of new friends.”

“I do not.”

“What about Rachel and all those other girls you’ve been eating lunch with?”

My mom was trying too hard, which was never a good thing.

“They’re her friends.”

“You know, Jason went to Birchwood,” Dweeble said, out of nowhere.

“What?” I asked.

“My son, Jason, from my first marriage.”

Mom told me that Dweeble had a son, but I didn’t know much about him. Only that his bedroom was down the hall from mine, and when he stayed over (which my mom said would hardly ever happen) we’d share a bathroom. But wait a second.

“How many marriages have you had?” I asked.

Dweeble laughed and winked at my mom. “Just the one, so far.”

I turned to my mom. “I thought you told me Jason was from Oregon.”

“He goes to Reed College up in Portland, Oregon, but he grew up here in Westlake,” Dweeble explained. “And actually, he’s studying abroad in Switzerland this year.”

“Ted’s going to visit him soon,” said Mom.

“Really? For how long?” I tried not to sound too excited, but I couldn’t help it. Switzerland is all the way in Europe, which is really far from here.

“Just a week,” Dweeble told me. “Saturday to Saturday, which should be enough time to get in some decent skiing.”

“I haven’t skied in years,” said my mom. “And Annabelle hasn’t ever been.”

“Well, we’ll have to change that,” said Dweeble. “What do you say we head up to Tahoe this winter?”

I didn’t know what to say. Winter was months away. And moving in with Dweeble was a big deal. Now we’re planning vacations with him, too? It was so much to think about.

“You okay, Annabelle?” My mom reached over and squeezed my arm.

I shrugged. “I’m fine, I guess.”

Dweeble smiled at me. “Being the new kid is tough, but you’ll get used to it.”

I’d heard that before but it didn’t make me feel any better. I didn’t particularly want to get used to being picked on.

“Can I please be excused?” I asked.

“Don’t you want dessert?” asked Dweeble. He got up and headed to the pantry, coming back a minute later with a fancy-looking silver box. “I picked up some Swiss chocolate at the new gourmet food store.”

He flipped back the lid to reveal rows of chocolate pieces—some milk, some dark, and all delicious looking. “These were imported from Lucerne, the small town where Jason is living. I figured eating them would remind me of him.”

Even though I made fun of Dweeble all the time, I had to admit there was something sweet about this. More importantly, the chocolates were delicious— hard on the outside and melty on the inside. When I caught one between the roof of my mouth and my tongue and pressed up, the flavor spread everywhere, making my taste buds go crazy.

“So good,” I said.

My mom took a piece too, even though she was still working on her steak. “Delicious.”

Dweeble agreed. “Yes, cheese, chocolate, fondue, and universal health care. They really know what they’re doing in Switzerland.”

Whatever that meant.

Pepper sniffed at the table.

“Not for you,” I said.

“Definitely not. Be careful with that,” said Dweeble. “Chocolate is toxic for dogs. There’s a chemical in it called theobromine that humans can digest, but dogs can’t. In fact, too much could kill him.”

“Really?” I asked, gulping.

“No joke.” Dweeble moved the box to the center of the table, far from Pepper’s reach. “It’s a bad idea to feed dogs any human food, but if Pepper gets his hands on chocolate, onions, or grapes, we’ve got a serious problem.”

“Good thing he doesn’t have hands,” I said.

Dweeble chuckled. “Right.”

As I reached for a second piece, I realized something. Chocolate may be dangerous for dogs . . . but it’s probably okay for boys.

chapter ten
boy treats

T
he next day, I strutted into science class, walking tall, with my shoulders swaying. I tried to adopt Jackson’s bouncy heeled swagger, and hoped I didn’t look too ridiculous. I didn’t know how to translate the pointy ears into something I could use to my advantage, but I didn’t want to skip any steps. So just to be safe, I visualized that my ears were pointy.

Unfortunately, I got to class too early, wasting my alpha-dog swagger. No one got to see it except for the teacher, and she hardly looked up from the paper she was grading.

“Hi, Ms. Roberts.”

“Hello, Annabelle,” she replied.

Since I wasn’t one for small talk I made my way to Table Number Seven and sat down. Luckily, the new walk wasn’t my only strategy. All this time, I’d forgotten one of the most basic principles of dog training. Dogs respond to food. Hopefully boys would, too.

I reached into my backpack and pulled out two pieces of Dweeble’s fancy Swiss chocolate. Just holding them made my mouth water, like Pepper’s did whenever he saw me go for the dog biscuits.

As hard as the chocolate was to part with, I knew it had to be done. This was too important. If it worked, it would be worth the sacrifice.

I placed one piece in front of Oliver’s space and one piece in front of Tobias’s.

Call it bribery or call it positive reinforcement. I didn’t care, as long as it worked.

As the class filled up, I went over my notes. (I had time to glance at both sets—the science ones and the boy ones.)

“What’s this?” asked Tobias, as soon as he sat down. He picked up the candy and held it closer to his face. Like maybe he thought the answer to his question was written on the wrapper in tiny print. (It wasn’t. The answer was in my brain. Oh, and in the dog/boy-training book, of course.)

I smiled through gritted teeth, pretending like I didn’t find him to be the most annoying guy in the world. “It’s this really great chocolate from Switzerland. My mom’s boyfriend got it for me.”

“And you’re giving me this?”

“Sure.” I nodded and looked him in the eye.

He stared back, trying to figure out why I was being nice to him, I guess. Well, I’d wonder, too.

I shrugged and faked a smile. “We have so much of it at home, I just want to unload some. Plus, I thought you and Oliver would like it.” I kept talking since he wasn’t. “Go ahead and try it. It’s really good.”

Tobias eyed the candy, like he was afraid I’d poisoned it or something. The boy treats didn’t seem to be working, which was a problem, because I didn’t have a backup plan.

I was about to give up—to tell him I was kidding, or to just not say anything—when the final bell rang.

Suddenly Oliver bounded into the room, red faced, out of breath, and a little sweaty, too. He slammed his books on our table, saw the candy, and said, “Oh, sweet!” Then he unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth.

We both watched Oliver chomp and swallow. He didn’t savor the candy like I thought he would. In fact, he probably ate it too fast to recognize the greatness. I glanced from one boy to the other, worried that I’d wasted fancy chocolate for nothing.

Tobias studied Oliver with suspicion. After a minute passed and Oliver hadn’t fallen to the floor, or foamed at the mouth, or sprouted a head-to-toe rash, I guess Tobias became convinced that I hadn’t given him poison, so he ate his, too.

“Mmm.” Tobias grunted. He spent more time chewing his piece, and seemed to appreciate it on some deeper level, which almost made me like him. Almost.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

Neither of them said thanks, but I know they heard me. And guess what? I didn’t care. And guess what else? When we had to do a group experiment, we actually did a group experiment.

It’s because I stayed in dominant dog mode, grabbing the microscope and saying to Tobias, “I’ll look first, and tell you what I see.”

When Oliver started to protest I told him, “You can take notes for the table.”

I don’t know if it was the chocolate bribe or my tone of voice, or maybe my ears were pointing in some small, subtle way. Whatever it was, it worked.

Tobias seemed too surprised to argue. I looked him straight in the eye, as if daring him to challenge me. And he didn’t say a word.

Oliver actually opened up his notebook and took notes like I told him to.

Sure, he had to borrow my pen before he did it, but it was a start.

Anyway, after class, I made sure to get it back.

Now that the boy situations in English and science were under control, I figured everything else would be easy.

But a week later, when I got to our normal spot for lunch, Erik and his friends were already sitting there. (We called them the Corn Dog Boys now, for the obvious reasons.) For a second, I worried that someone had invited them to eat with us. Then I noticed Rachel and Claire standing off to the side. Rachel glared daggers at them. Claire always seemed so happy and easygoing, but today she looked like she was sucking on a sour ball.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“We’re just waiting for Yumi and Emma,” said Claire, blowing her bangs out of her face with an annoyed huff. “And then we have to find somewhere else to sit.”

“It’s not fair. The Corn Dog Boys only beat me by, like, ten seconds.” Rachel spoke in a whisper, and gestured toward the boys with her chin.

It’s not like we hadn’t seen it coming. Every day, the Corn Dog Boys edged further and further into our territory. Yesterday we’d bumped elbows with them. And today they’d taken over: spreading their backpacks around and splaying their legs wide, taking up way more space than they needed to take up.

“If they just moved a little, we could all fit,” I said.

Claire giggled, nervously. “You can tell them that if you want, but I’m staying here.”

“They can’t just hog the whole area.” Even as I said this, I knew full well the Corn Dog Boys could do whatever they wanted to do, because, well, I guess because no one would tell them otherwise. “We’ve been sitting there since the first day of school.”

I thought Rachel would agree with me but she just shrugged silently.

I couldn’t believe it. Rachel actually lived with a real live boy. She had plenty of opportunity to practice dealing with that species. The way she yelled at Jackson amazed me. Yet here she was, intimidated by a few sixth graders. I guess it was different when the boys in question weren’t related to you.

Just then Emma came over asking, “What’s up?” As soon as she noticed the Corn Dog Boys she froze, like an invisible force field protected them.

It was no shocker that Emma hung back. She seemed to survive junior high by keeping a low profile and staying out of every boy’s way. Emma was a total braniac—a straight-A student in all honors classes. So maybe she was onto something. Of course, I’d tried to make myself invisible, too, but it didn’t work for me.

We looked around at the mostly full lunch area. All the good spots were already taken. The only space large enough to fit the five of us was right next to the garbage cans. Flies buzzed nearby. Smelly trash overflowed onto the bench seats. No mystery why that spot remained empty.

Someone had to do something. We couldn’t eat by garbage and we couldn’t eat standing up. Yet we all just stood there.

“I’ll be right back,” I said and ducked behind a tree. I pulled out my dog/boy-training book and flipped through the pages in search of something that might help.