Dog Heaven (10 page)

I peeked out the window as Ledward pulled up and parked on the grass. He lifted our lawn mower out and rolled it into the garage, then went back to his jeep.

I went out to him.

“Hey,” he said. “S’up?”

“Not much.”

He tossed me a small bag of charcoal.

“What’s this for?”

He flicked his eyebrows. “Steaks.”

He took a covered bowl off the backseat. Inside, five steaks swam in a rich brown marinade. It smelled so sweet it made my stomach gurgle.

“All right!”

Ledward smiled. We went into the house.

He set the bowl on the counter. “Got that lawn mower fixed. Gas line was clogged.”

“Oh. Good. I guess.”

Ledward dipped his head toward the backyard. “You know how for start the hibachi?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Get um good and hot. I make rice.”

The hibachi was a small black grill that sat on the ground. To cook on it you had to squat like a toad.

Just as I was about to head out to the patio, Stella and Darci walked in. When Stella saw Ledward she frowned. “Where’s Angela?”

“Not home yet,” Ledward said, ignoring Stella’s gloomy face. He was lucky he could do that. Her frowns always made me want to be somewhere else.

Ledward rinsed the rice, poured it into the rice cooker, and added water. “I’m cooking tonight. Teriyaki.”

Darci’s eyes lit up. “Can I help? Can I, can I?”

“How’s about you make a salad?”

I went out and got the charcoal going. If Streak was here, I’d give her some of my steak. Man, would she love that!

What if some mean family had taken her home? Tied her up with a rope or put a shock collar on her?

Then I felt guilty, because that wasn’t a very nice thing to think. Mean families don’t rescue dogs. They dump them in the mountains.

There was a commotion in the kitchen. Mom was home.

A minute later she came out with a glass of lemonade and dragged a plastic patio chair over. She kissed the top of my head and sat. “How’s my little man of the house?”

“Good.”

“I’m so glad I’m not cooking tonight. This is so nice of Ledward.” I nodded.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

I looked at her. Poor Mom. She had a long day.

Ledward brought the steaks out and squatted next to me. “Coals look good. Let’s do it.”

Ledward let me put the steaks on the grill. They sizzled, and I breathed in the sweet aroma.

Ledward dragged a chair over and sat next to Mom. She tapped his knee. “Thanks for the surprise dinner.”

“No problem.”

They sat in silence.

I smiled. If Streak was here she’d be sitting next to me with her eyes pinned on those steaks.

We ate out on the patio. Somebody’s dog barked.

Ledward grinned. “When I was a boy in Kaneohe, I had this crazy dog. That mutt ate anything—socks, towels, string, toilet paper, whatever.” He sighed. “Best dog I ever had. He went everywhere with me.”

I looked up from my plate.

Ledward winked.

I glanced at Mom, who was cutting a piece of steak.

Ledward went on. “You know … the way I see it, every boy needs a dog sometime in his life.”

Mom put her knife and fork down and looked at him. “You boys sure do stick together, don’t you?”

I glanced at Stella. Her face was blank.

Ledward chuckled, pretending he hadn’t heard Mom. “Me? I had seven dogs.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “Stella’s allergic to cats, Ledward. And maybe dogs, too. How many times do you boys have to hear it? Besides, if we had a dog, who’d end up caring for it? We all know the answer.”

I jumped in. “No, Mom. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

“Like you take care of your room?”

“Uh …”

“The steak was good,” Stella said, then took her plate into the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Ledward said.

We sat listening to the toads croaking in the swamp grass down by the canal. I stared at my half-eaten steak. My messy room had just killed any chance I’d had of rescuing Streak.

L
ater that evening, after Mom and Ledward had come back from a walk on the golf course and I’d picked some stuff up in my room, Ledward dragged me away from the TV.

“Get the empty teriyaki bowl. Bring it to the jeep.”

I took it out.

The toads were so loud now that Ledward almost had to shout. “We got to get smart, boy.”

“How?”

The light from the house lit Ledward’s face as he bent close. “I get my best ideas when I’m cooking on a hibachi, and tonight I got a good one.”

I waited.

He glanced toward the house and whispered, “We got to take your mama to dog heaven.”

I laughed. “She won’t go.”

“You leave that to me, boy. Your part is more important.”

“What’s my part?”

“Just be you.” He put his hand on my shoulder and winked. “There’s not a mama alive who can turn a dog away once she sees it in her kid’s arms.”

“W
rite your name on a small scrap of paper,” Mr. Purdy said the next day at school. “Then fold it up.”

“Are we having a raffle, Mr. Purdy?”

“Is there a prize?”

“What’s the prize, Mr. Purdy, what is it?”

Mr. Purdy walked down the aisles with his empty coffee cup. “Drop them in here.”

“What does the winner get, Mr. Purdy?”

Mr. Purdy shook the coffee cup. “Remember your revisions? I’m drawing names to see who reads first.”

“Ack!”

“Aww, man.”

“Come on, Mr. Purdy.”

Mr. Purdy reached into the cup. He smiled. “First up is … Rubin!”

Rubin groaned. I turned around and grinned.

Rubin made a big show of getting his paper out of his desk, like getting it out was a huge amount of trouble, and did Mr. Purdy really want to wait around until he found it?

“Take your time, Rubin,” Mr. Purdy said. “We can wait.”

Rubin’s paper was all wrinkled up. He smoothed it out and cleared his throat. “Okay.” He cleared his throat again. “I want a
skateboard because skateboards are cool and if I had one I could race Maya and beat her because I’m a boy. Mr. Purdy will want me to have a skateboard because he’s a man.”

Rubin looked up, grinning.

A small laugh burst out of me like a cough.

Mr. Purdy stared at Rubin. His eyebrows were pinched like, Did I really hear what I just heard? “That’s your revision, Rubin?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Purdy.”

“It sounds exactly like your first draft. What did you revise?”

“Boy.”

“Boy?”

“Yeah. In my first draft I said you were a
boy
. I changed that to
man
, because if I say
man
it gives it more power, because you think if a man wants me to have a skateboard, then that means something. See?”

“Rubin?”

“Yes, Mr. Purdy … sir?”

“How many words are in your paragraph?”

Rubin counted. “Thirty-six.”

“Before school’s out I want you to rewrite your paragraph. Twenty-five words or less. Got it?”

Rubin’s pained face vanished. “Only twenty-five?”

“Twenty-five.”

“I can do that.”

“And leave my name out of it.”