Movie For Dogs (2 page)

“It can’t be!” Bruce exploded. “Jerry isn’t a writer!”

“We can’t know that for sure,” Andi said. “He’s cruel and sneaky, but that doesn’t mean he can’t write. Maybe he wrote a story about cutting dogs’ heads off.”

“I guess that’s possible,” Bruce said, for she had made a good point. Being gifted in writing — or in anything else, for that matter — didn’t necessarily make you a good person. On the other hand, he had never seen the slightest indication that Jerry was a talented writer. Whenever their English teacher assigned them an essay to write, Jerry groaned more loudly than anybody else in the class.

At dinner that night, Andi put on a good show. When their parents reacted with delight to the news that their daughter had placed second in a national
contest, Andi forced her mouth into a smile so wide that it made her cheeks bulge like a chipmunk’s.

“What an honor!” Mr. Walker exclaimed, beaming with pride. “Our little girl is going to be a local celebrity!”

“I don’t think so,” Andi said. “The first-place winner was Jerry Gordon, so he’ll be the one who’ll be getting all the attention.”

“Jerry?” Their father could not conceal his amazement. “Well, that’s a startling revelation! Who would have guessed that boy was disciplined enough to write a book? Maybe he needed a challenging activity to pass the time while he was confined to his house. His father told me he grounded Jerry for two weeks after all the trouble he and Connor got into last summer.”

“Let’s consider this a good sign,” Mrs. Walker said hopefully. “Young people do go through phases. Now that he’s out from under his cousin’s bad influence, Jerry may become an entirely different person.”

“I’m going to get a certificate,” Andi announced, making her voice trill as if she were excited. “I’m going to frame it and hang it on the wall in my bedroom.”

“Not in your bedroom — in the den, where everyone can see it!” Mr. Walker told her. “After dinner, let’s go out for ice cream to celebrate!”

“Andi, why don’t you call Aunt Alice and tell her the wonderful news?” Mrs. Walker suggested. “I bet she’d like to come with us. She loves celebrations.”

“Tonight is Aunt Alice’s bingo night,” Andi said. “Besides, I’m too full for ice cream. I’d rather stay home and watch TV.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that!” her father exclaimed. “Since when is Andrea Walker too full to eat ice cream?”

“She’s overexcited,” Mrs. Walker said with a knowing smile. “I bet she’ll change her mind when we get to the Dairy Queen.”

However, Andi’s appetite showed no signs of improving. She shoved her food around on her dinner plate to give the impression that she was eating, but almost none of it made its way to her mouth. When, at her parents’ insistence, she joined the family for a trip to their favorite ice cream parlor, she asked for her strawberry sundae to be boxed to go so she could take it home with her.

“It will melt!” her mother objected. “Why can’t you eat it here?”

“I like soupy ice cream,” Andi said. “I’ll have it as a bedtime snack. I’m sure I’ll be hungry by then.”

But she didn’t wait around long enough to get hungry. Instead, she went up to bed as soon as they got home.

“I don’t know why,” she said, “but I’m really sleepy.”

Now it was Mrs. Walker’s turn to regard her daughter with amazement.

“I hope you’re not coming down with something,” she said worriedly. “This isn’t like you, honey. Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” Andi said. “I’m just tired from all the excitement. It isn’t every day that a writer wins a certificate.”

She smiled the big awful smile that was so obviously fake that Bruce couldn’t imagine how their parents could be taken in by it. His sister might be a good writer, but she was not a good actor.

On his way down the hall to his own room a couple of hours later, Bruce heard a disturbing noise from behind Andi’s door. Andi kept her bedroom door closed because she slept with her dog. The children weren’t allowed to have their dogs in their bedrooms, but Andi hid Bebe in her closet until
after her mother came in to kiss her good night, and then let her out and took her to bed with her.

Mrs. Walker thought Bebe slept in the laundry room.

So now, when Bruce rapped on the door, he was quick to identify himself.

“It’s only me,” he called softly. “Can I come in?”

“I’m asleep,” Andi called back.

“If you were asleep, you wouldn’t have heard me,” Bruce said. He went in and quickly shoved the door closed behind him. “What was that noise I just heard? It sounded like somebody choking. Was Mom right about you being sick?”

“Bebe threw up,” Andi said. “Strawberries don’t seem to agree with her.”

“You fed Bebe your strawberry sundae!” Bruce exclaimed in horror. He switched on the overhead light, but when he saw what Bebe had done, he quickly switched it off again. “What were you thinking? You know a dog can’t digest a whole strawberry sundae.”

“I couldn’t stand to waste something so good,” Andi said. “I tried to eat it myself, but I couldn’t make it go down. I thought Bebe would enjoy it, and she
did
— at least, for a couple of minutes.”

At any other time, Bruce would have told her how dumb that was. Andi knew as well as he did that dogs should not be fed certain kinds of people food. But he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that would make her feel worse than she already did, because while the light had been on, he had seen her face. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks were puffy and tear-streaked.

“You’ve been crying,” he said, a bit shaken. Andi seldom cried.

“I have
not
been crying,” Andi shot back defensively. She paused and then admitted reluctantly, “Well, maybe a little bit. But please don’t say anything to Mom. I don’t want her coming in here and finding Bebe.”

“I don’t understand why you’re taking this so hard,” Bruce said. “You ought to be proud of yourself. Second place is great.”

“But it’s not good
enough
!” Andi said. “I worked all summer writing
Bobby Strikes Back,
and Jerry probably whipped his book out in two weeks while he was grounded. How could he do that and make it better than my book? I wrote mine over and over, trying to make it perfect. I was thinking that you could take pictures for illustrations. There are so
many dogs in our neighborhood, you’d have plenty of models, and your name would be on the book jacket right under mine.”

“That would have been cool,” Bruce admitted, touched by her thoughtfulness.

“And then there’s Aunt Alice,” Andi said. “This was going to be for
her
!”

“What does Aunt Alice have to do with this?” Bruce asked in bewilderment.

“I based my hero, Bobby the Basset, on Aunt Alice,” Andi told him. “In my story, Bobby proved that old dogs can be smarter and braver than young dogs and that young dogs should listen to them and take them seriously. Bobby saved the dognapped victims in my story, like Aunt Alice helped save the real dognapped victims last summer. I was going to dedicate
Bobby Strikes Back
to her. Now all I’ll have to show her is a dumb certificate that probably doesn’t even have my name right. The editor addressed her letter to ‘Amanda Wallace.’”

“Where is the letter?” Bruce asked.

“On my desk,” Andi said. “Tomorrow I’m going to tear it up and flush it down the toilet.”

“I’m going to turn the light back on,” Bruce said, “and you’re going to clean up that mess. I might
forget that it’s there, and I don’t want to step in it.”

“I was waiting until Bebe fell asleep to do that,” Andi said. “I didn’t want to embarrass her.”

“Dachshunds are nearsighted,” Bruce said. “If she’s on your bed, she won’t see what you’re doing even if she’s still awake.”

He turned on the light and averted his eyes from the frothy pink puddle on the floor as Andi went into the closet and got the towel that Bebe always sat on when she was in hiding. As Bruce had suspected, Bebe was in Andi’s bed, a sausage-shaped lump beneath the blanket. The only part of her sticking out was her nose.

While Andi took care of the cleanup, Bruce went over to her desk and picked up the letter.

Dear Ms. Amanda Wallace,

We are pleased to inform you that your delightful manuscript,
Bobby Strikes Back,
has placed second in our Young Author Dog Lovers Contest. Your certificate of merit will be mailed to you in a separate envelope along with your manuscript, which you are now free to enter in other competitions. Next spring we will send you a complimentary copy of the
book
Ruffy Dean Joins the Circus
by first-place winner Jerry Gordon, who, coincidentally, also happens to live in Elmwood.

We hope you will consider entering next year’s contest, which will be for Young Author Cat Lovers.

Sincerely,

Jo Ann Bayse, Senior Editor

Pet Lovers Press

“You’ll have other chances to get your book published,” Bruce said. “It says right here you can enter it in other contests.”

“There aren’t any other contests like this one,” Andi said. Her voice was quivering, and Bruce was afraid she was going to cry again.

He said, “Look, Andi, this isn’t the end of the world. Think of all the kids who entered and didn’t place at all. Most of them aren’t even going to get certificates.”

“But think of the one who
will
get his book published!” Andi wailed. “I wouldn’t feel nearly as bad having somebody else win if that person felt the way we do about dogs. But after all the horrible things Jerry’s done to Red Rover, he shouldn’t have
been allowed to enter! Even if he’s a good writer, and I guess he must be or he wouldn’t have won, he doesn’t deserve to be known all over the world as a boy who loves dogs!”

Bruce couldn’t help agreeing with her. Red Rover had permanent scars on his neck from the rope Jerry had used to harness him to a wagon. Bruce was also furious that the only punishment Jerry had received for the misery he had caused many people the past summer was being grounded for two weeks. Staying in his basement bedroom with its big-screen TV and pool table and computer and huge collection of DVDs could hardly be considered a major punishment.

Bruce tried to think of something to say to make Andi feel better.

“Maybe the publishing house will burn down,” he suggested. “Then they won’t be able to publish Jerry’s book.”

But a thought that was more realistic occurred to him.

When they didn’t know what to do next, there was always Aunt Alice.

Perhaps she could think of a way to get Andi’s book published.

Beneath the article was a picture of Jerry holding his congratulatory letter from Pet Lovers Press. His shiny blond hair formed a halo around his face. He looked adorable.

“They got Andi’s name wrong!” Mr. Walker exclaimed indignantly as the paper was passed from hand to hand at the breakfast table. “I’m going to call the editor and demand a correction.”

“Please don’t bother,” Andi said. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her voice was flat and unemotional. Bruce thought she sounded like a talking robot. He’d felt more comfortable with her the night before when she was raging and weeping. At least then she’d seemed
human.

“But you deserve recognition,” Mr. Walker
protested. “Your picture should be in the paper right along with Jerry’s.”

“It’s all right, really,” Andi said. “I’d hate to be photographed with Jerry. People might think we were friends. May I be excused? I’ve got homework to do.”

“But it’s Saturday morning!” Mrs. Walker exclaimed. “You have the whole weekend to do homework. Aren’t you and Debbie going to take your dogs to the park?”

Andi and her best friend, Debbie Austin, always took Andi’s dog, Bebe, and Debbie’s dog, Lola, to the Doggie Park on Saturday mornings so they could play with other dogs. Back when Debbie had written a gossip column for
The Bow-Wow News,
she had gotten her most interesting material by eavesdropping on the conversations of dog owners, who sat on benches and chatted while their dogs were romping.

“Bebe doesn’t feel well this morning,” Andi said. “She seems to have an upset stomach.”

She got up from the table and went upstairs to her room. Even from the kitchen, the family could hear her door slam.

“I’m worried about Andi,” Mrs. Walker said. “Something doesn’t seem right. Maybe I ought to take her to the doctor for a checkup.”

“She’ll snap out of it,” Bruce told his mother reassuringly. But he wasn’t sure he believed that. Andi seemed to have morphed into a total stranger. He felt as if he were watching his vibrant sister transform herself, right before his eyes, into a paper doll that had been left out in the rain.

It was Bruce’s habit to take Red running on weekend mornings, so his parents didn’t question him about where he was going when he left the breakfast table and went out into the backyard. But when Red came bounding to greet him, he apologetically told the excited dog, “I’m sorry, old boy. We’ll have to run later. First I have business to take care of.”

Bruce spent a few minutes stroking Red’s silky head and scratching behind his floppy ears, and then, to Red’s huge disappointment, Bruce left him behind and headed for his great-aunt’s house at the end of the block. He couldn’t take Red with him to visit Aunt Alice because she was terribly allergic to dogs.

Jerry Gordon was in his driveway, oiling the
wheels of his skateboard. Bruce had to walk right past him.

“Hey, shrimp!” Jerry called out.

“Hey yourself,” Bruce said, trying not to show how much he hated that nickname. His parents kept predicting that he would soon have a growth spurt, but they had been promising that for years and it still hadn’t happened.

“Did you see the morning paper?” Jerry asked with a smirk.

“I looked at the sports page,” Bruce said. “That was all that was worth reading.”

“Then you missed the big news,” Jerry told him. “I made front-page headlines! I’ve written a book and it’s going to be published! I’m already getting phone calls from TV producers who saw my picture in the paper and want me to be on talk shows.”

“I just bet!” Bruce said sarcastically, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it might be true. Jerry probably could do a great interview with someone like Oprah. Any boy who was glib enough to talk the police out of arresting him on dognapping charges could charm his way into the hearts of television viewers.

Quickening his pace, Bruce continued past the
Gordons’ house and turned up the neatly paved walkway to the house next door. He rang the bell and waited patiently for Aunt Alice to respond. His father’s elderly aunt was not an early riser, and her joints could be stiff in the mornings, which meant it might take her a while to get to the door. But she always got there eventually and did so now, peering through the peephole to identify her visitor. Aunt Alice did not open her door to people who sold magazine subscriptions.

She hadn’t yet dressed for the day and was still in her pink flowered housecoat, but her face lit up with pleasure when she saw who her caller was.

“My gracious, it’s chilly!” she exclaimed as the brisk morning air swept in through the open doorway. “Hurry, dear, and come in! Spring apparently hasn’t sprung yet, though my hyacinths don’t know the difference. The purple ones are already popping their heads up. I suppose you’re here to discuss that article in the paper?”

“So you’ve already seen it?” Bruce asked.

“How could I have missed it when my next-door neighbors’ son is all over the front page?” Aunt Alice led the way into her immaculate white-carpeted living room, where no cushion was ever out of place
on the lemon yellow sofa. Bruce was suddenly aware that he was wearing the same jeans he’d worn for most of the past week. He decided that it might be best if he didn’t sit down.

The morning paper was spread across Aunt Alice’s coffee table, and Jerry smiled sweetly up at them from the center of a round wet circle where Aunt Alice had set her coffee cup on his face.

“How is Andi reacting to this?” she asked Bruce. “I haven’t read
Bobby Strikes Back,
but she’s told me about it. A lot of her heart went into writing that story.”

“She’s putting on a good act,” Bruce said. “But that’s all it is — an act. Mom and Dad are buying it, but I know she’s faking. Last night she was crying in her bedroom and looked just awful. She expected to win that contest. She was totally sure.”

“She must be devastated,” Aunt Alice said sympathetically. “Not because she came in second — although losing to Jerry must have been a bitter pill to swallow — but because she was living for a dream and now she doesn’t have one. People as driven as Andi can’t function without a dream. They have to have something to strive for or they lose their energy.”

“Is that normal?” Bruce asked. He planned to be a photojournalist, but that was a goal for the future. For now, he was happy just to have fun taking pictures and running with his dog and hanging out with Tim and his other friends. It had never occurred to him to submit his photographs to magazines, which Andi had been doing with her poetry since she was ten.

“It’s not normal for everyone, but it’s normal for Andi,” Aunt Alice said. “Andi isn’t your average young girl. That makes her life more interesting but also more difficult. Do the rules allow her to enter her manuscript in other contests?”

“The publisher said she could,” Bruce answered. “But there aren’t many contests for kids who write books about dogs.”

“There don’t have to be many,” Aunt Alice said. “There just needs to be one. Since Andi is too dejected right now to pursue this on her own, it’s up to the people who love her to do that for her. Let’s go online and see what we can come up with.”

She led the way up the stairs and down the hall to her home office, which once had been a sewing room but now was devoted to legal and investigative
materials. When Aunt Alice’s husband, Peter, had been alive, the two of them had run a detective agency. That had been a long time ago, and in the years since her husband’s death, Aunt Alice had devoted herself to charitable causes and gardening. However, she had recently purchased a computer and become intrigued by the new technology she’d read about on the Internet. She had been ordering books about forensics and DNA evidence and new methods for running background checks on suspicious people. She had even started talking about renewing her private detective’s license.

Now she switched on her computer, pulled up her favorite search engine, and typed in the words “Dogs + writing + contest.” To Bruce’s surprise, a page popped up with links to a variety of Web sites, but none of the contests seemed right for Andi’s novel. Almost all were sponsored by dog food companies that wanted jingles to use in their commercials. The prizes were cans of dog food.

Aunt Alice went back to the search engine and substituted the word “story” for the word “writing.” This time, when she hit
ENTER
, the list was shorter, and there still didn’t seem to be any contests for books.

“Andi was right,” Bruce said. “Pet Lovers Press was a onetime chance for her. They’re the only publisher looking for books by kids who write about animals, and it seems as if they’re going to keep switching subjects. Their next contest is going to be about cats, and then they’ll probably do hamsters and horses and goldfish. By the time they get back to dogs again, Andi will be too old to enter.”

“We mustn’t give up hope,” Aunt Alice said, scrolling down the page. “Here’s one that looks interesting. It isn’t specifically for children, but it doesn’t exclude them either. Your parents gave you a video camera for Christmas. I assume you’ve been learning to use it. Have you mastered your craft yet?”

“I’m pretty good,” Bruce told her. “I’m taking a video class as my eighth-grade elective and learning about editing and sound tracks and stuff like that.”

He leaned in closer so he could read over her shoulder.

STAR BURST STUDIOS’
DOGS IN ACTION
VIDEO CONTEST! Every dog has a story, and your pup pal is no exception. You may be the owner of the next canine superstar! Send us a fifteen-minute
video based on the most dramatic event in the life of your family pooch, and maybe your talented tail-wagger will make it to Hollywood! The three top videos will be aired on national television, and the winner will be decided by votes from our viewers. The dog who stars in the winning video will be offered the opportunity to appear in commercials and movies produced by professional filmmakers. Entry must be accompanied by a signed consent form for each person who appears and/or is heard in the video submission. Only one entry per person or group will be accepted, and all entries must be received by April 30. The finalists will be announced on May 14.

“I’ll print a copy of the entry form,” Aunt Alice said. “You’ll have to work fast to meet this deadline, but this sounds to me like a
Bobby Strikes Back
type of contest. Even though Andi changed some of the names and details, her story is based on a true event in Red Rover’s life.”

“But it’s a contest for a video, not for a book,” Bruce said doubtfully.

“Then Andi must turn her story into a screenplay,” said Aunt Alice.