Loudest Beagle on the Block, Page 4

  “Give it back RIGHT NOW!” Rosie yelled, stamping her foot. “Isaac, you little brat!”

  “She should talk,” Danny joked. He was sitting on the wall, probably waiting for Parker. And he was staying well out of his sister’s way.

  Isaac didn’t see me coming. He was racing around the slide, waving his prize in the air, and he ran right into me. I grabbed his grubby little hand and realized he was clutching a sparkly pink ribbon. No mystery where that had come from. Rosie wears pink pretty much every day, almost always with a matching ribbon in her hair.

  “OW!” Isaac roared.

  “What is the matter with you?” I said. “Why are you torturing Rosie?”

  Rosie stormed up and yanked the ribbon out of his hand. “From now on, you leave me alone, you horrible little monster,” she said fiercely.

  “Say you’re sorry,” I said, shaking Isaac’s arm.

  “I was just playing,” Isaac protested. “Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez.”

  “I wouldn’t accept his apology anyway,” Rosie said, sticking her nose in the air. She stomped away again, smoothing the pink ribbon between her fingers. Danny gave me a shrug from the top of the wall.

  Beep beep. Mom’s car pulled up to the curb. She peered out the window at us.

  “You’re in trouble now!” Isaac shouted. He jerked himself free and ran over to the car. By the time I caught up, he was in the front seat, spinning a tale of woe about how mean I was and how I’d hurt his arm and whine whine blah blah blah.

  “Ella, that wasn’t very nice,” Mom said with a little frown.

  “Well, he wasn’t being very nice!” I said. “Did he tell you he stole Rosie’s ribbon? I was just getting it back for her.”

  “I’m sure Rosie can take care of herself,” Mom said, but she was clearly distracted. She kept leaning forward and looking at the other kids coming out of school. And the car wasn’t moving, even though Isaac and I were all the way in.

  “Mom? Why aren’t we going?” I asked. “I’m going to be late for my piano lesson.”

  “I told Mrs. Mehta we could give Pradesh and Kamala a ride home, since I’m driving you over there anyway,” Mom said.

  “Oh, Mooooooooooooom,” Isaac and I both cried at the same time. For once, we agreed about something — that this was an enormously embarrassing thing for Mom to do. Pradesh Mehta is in my grade, although he’s in Mr. Guare’s class. And his little sister, Kamala, is in Isaac’s grade. If anyone saw us giving them a ride home, they’d be all “Ooooooh, Ella likes Pradesh” and “Kamala has a booooooyfriend” and we’d never hear the end of it.

  Of course, by “anyone” I mean Avery Lafitte. Avery is the meanest, most awful person I’ve ever met. He’s kind of big and red-faced with squinty little eyes and he’s a jerk to everyone all the time. Last year after the talent show, I went back to my locker to get a book, and he was in the hall, kicking doors. I don’t know why. He’s just angry all the time. He saw me go up to my locker, and he was like, “Hey Ella, what was that song you played?”

  So I said, “It’s called ‘Barcarolle.’ It’s French,” because I’m polite like that.

  And he said, “It should be called ‘BORING-ROLLE’! Way to put the whole audience to sleep, Finegold! Couldn’t you tell that everyone hated it? It was totally stupid!”

  I slammed my locker door and said, “Shut up, Avery!” And then I ran away. I’ve never been so upset in my whole life. I had to go hide in the bathroom for a while so no one would see me crying. I think my mom thought I was upset because I didn’t win. But really it was because of what he said. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I still think about it all the time. I mean, why would anyone do that? There’s no reason to go around just being mean to random people. But what if he was right? Was I that terrible? How would I know? Mom and Dad said they loved it. But wouldn’t they say that anyway? Sometimes when I’m trying to fall asleep, I remember what he said and how he looked all mad when he said it, and then I can’t fall asleep for hours because I lie there worrying about it.

  Anyway, he’s a jerk, is my point. And he would definitely tease me for hanging out with Pradesh. Pradesh is OK, but he’s not cool at all. He was our school spelling-bee champion last year (he beat all the sixth-graders, too) and he acts kind of nervous and jumpy all the time so it’s hard to talk to him, plus he likes to use a lot of big words. It seems like he’s always studying for spelling. Avery would probably say we’re a perfect match, because Avery doesn’t know anything about me at all.

  “Pradesh!” my mom yelled, rolling down the car window. “Over here!”

  I wanted to melt into the floor. But it would look even sillier to hide, so I just kind of slouched as low as I could while Pradesh and his sister climbed into the backseat with me. Kamala sat in the middle. She gave me a big smile. Pradesh looked as embarrassed as I was. He pulled his hair over his face like he was trying to hide behind it, but it isn’t long enough for that.

  “Hi Ella!” Kamala said. Her black pigtails swung around as she grinned at all of us. “Hi Isaac! Hi Mrs. Finegold!”

  “Hey,” I mumbled. Isaac dramatically buried his head in his hands and didn’t answer. Kamala didn’t seem bothered by this.

  “Ella, have you decided which song to play at the talent show?” she asked, but she chattered on without waiting for me to answer. “Mom says I’m ready to do a piece if I want, but I’m so nervous! I hope they don’t put me next to you on the program, because you’re so good I’ll just sound terrible!”

  “Are you kidding?” I said. “You’re a great piano player. You should definitely do it. It’ll make me practice even harder knowing I’ll have such tough competition.”

  Kamala grinned wider and wriggled her shoulders. “I told Pradesh he should get up and spell some really hard words. Wouldn’t that be funny?” She wound one of her pigtails around her fingers and gave him a sly look.

  “Yeah, ha-ha,” Pradesh said, scowling.

  Kamala chattered all the way to her mom’s house. That was kind of a relief, because it meant I didn’t have to make awkward small talk with Pradesh. He bolted from the car as soon as we pulled up. By the time Kamala and I got inside, he was already hiding up in his room. Which was so fine by me.

  I like the Mehtas’ house because Mrs. Mehta is an amazing cook, so the whole place always smells spicy and exciting. Sometimes after the lesson she gives me samosas or chutney or something to take home with me. She’s also a lot nicer than my last piano teacher, Mr. Cricket. Mom worries that she’s not challenging me enough, but I think she is.

  We went through the pieces I’d been practicing at home. Now that I’d thought of him, I couldn’t get Avery out of my head, so I made a few mistakes. The word “BORING!” kept flashing in my mind and my fingers would stumble on the keys.

  Mrs. Mehta patted my hand. “All right, take a break. Is everything all right, Ella? You seem to be having trouble concentrating today.”

  I didn’t want to tell her about Avery — I hadn’t told anyone about that — so instead I found myself telling her all about Trumpet and how I was worried that I wouldn’t get to practice anymore if the dog was always howling.

  “Surely there’s a solution,” Mrs. Mehta said. “Lots of people with dogs can still practice. You just have to figure out how to stop her.”

  Which wasn’t very helpful.

  By the time Mom came to get me, I was feeling kind of unhappy and clumsy and untalented. I said good-bye to Mrs. Mehta and ran down to the car. To my surprise, Mom had brought Trumpet with her. The beagle threw herself against the passenger-side window when she saw me. I could hear her barking up a storm as I hurried across the lawn. Her tail was wagging like crazy and her paws scrabbled against the window like she thought she could dig her way out before I got there.

  When I opened the car door, Trumpet practically flew into my arms. She knocked my piano books to the ground and clambered all the way up to my face, making those funny happy squeaking sounds. I felt her tongue slurp along my
cheek. Even though it was totally ridiculous, I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. No one had ever been this happy to see me before. I was sure I hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

  “Oh my word,” Mom said, getting out of the car. She came around to help pick up my books. “This dog. I have never met such a lunatic animal. She’s been searching for you all afternoon, ever since Isaac and I got home. She sat by the door for a while, and then she ran up to your room as if maybe you’d gotten past her. She checked under your bed and on top of your bed and in your closet, and then she ran all over the house, and then she went back and sat by the door again for a while, until she decided to do all that over again. Round and round and around, so I finally decided to let her come with me to pick you up. I hoped that would calm her down, but so much for that plan!”

  Trumpet had her front paws up on my right shoulder now and her face snuggled into my neck. My arms were wrapped around her, holding her up, even though she was a little too big for that to be comfortable.

  “You were looking for me?” I asked Trumpet, amazed. Her tail swished back and forth like a metronome. “Why on earth do you like me so much?” When I talked to her, she licked my neck and made me giggle.

  Mom put my books in the backseat while I scooted into the car, holding Trumpet on my lap. Her velvety ears brushed my cheek, and her fur was warm under my fingers. “Is it because you think we’re fellow musicians?” I whispered to her as Mom went around the car. “Maybe we both think we’re more talented than we actually are.” Trumpet licked my nose.

  “Don’t think this makes up for interrupting my rehearsal,” I warned her. I was still worried about when I would get to practice, if there was going to be a dog howling in the background all the time.

  But I had to admit — Trumpet being so happy to see me cheered me up a lot. As we drove home, and she curled up closer to me, I realized that I felt much better.

  Avery Lafitte might not like me, but Trumpet definitely did.

  It seemed like thinking about Avery made him appear, like an evil spirit conjured by my mind. I was just sitting by myself at lunch on Tuesday, minding my own business, when I saw him sit down at Parker’s table. He wasn’t there long before Heidi snapped at him and he stood up in a hurry. He looked all mad, the way he usually does. I focused on my peanut-butter sandwich.

  Don’t come over here, I prayed. Don’t notice me. Leave me alone.

  “Hey Finegold.” His awful deep voice sneered at me. I didn’t look up at him. “Whatcha doing? Dreaming about Mozart? Composing stupid symphonies in your head? Wishing you had friends?”

  What would Parker do? Or Heidi? They’d ignore him, right?

  Avery reached out with one big meaty hand and swiped my whole lunch onto the floor. Everything hit the ground except the sandwich I was holding in my hand: a bag of carrots, a yogurt, a bag of chips, and one of the brownies Dad had made last night. The carrots and chips spilled all over the tiles.

  “Oops,” Avery said meanly. “You made a mess, Finegold. I guess you should clean it up.”

  I stood up, pushed past him, and hurried out of the cafeteria. I was still holding the rest of my sandwich in my hand, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. I threw it in a trash can on the way to the music room.

  Sitting at the piano didn’t make me feel as good as it usually did. I wished I had someone to talk to. I wanted to tell someone what Avery had done. Someone who would laugh and say he was a jerk and make me feel better.

  Trumpet would make me feel better. That was a strange thought, considering we’d only had her for four days and she was such a pain in the neck. I pictured the way she looked at me and remembered the weight of her head resting on my lap while we watched TV. My breathing started to slow down. Soon I wasn’t about to cry anymore.

  I figured I should go back and clean up my spilled lunch. I felt bad about leaving it for the custodians. But I wanted to wait until Avery was gone, so I played a few things until the lunch hour was nearly over. Then I went back to the cafeteria and peeked in. Most of the younger kids had gone out to the playground, while some of the older ones were still sitting at their tables, talking. I didn’t see Avery anywhere.

  It wasn’t until I nearly got back to my table that I realized someone was there, picking up carrots from the floor and throwing them at the nearest trash can. It was Pradesh. I think I would only have been more surprised if it had been Avery.

  “Pradesh?” I said.

  He jumped and kind of toppled over sideways, then scrambled to his feet, wiping potato-chip crumbs off his jeans.

  “Hey,” he said. “Um. Yeah. Just helping.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. “I didn’t mean to leave such a mess.” I crouched down and started putting crumbs into a paper napkin.

  “Yeah, I saw Avery,” Pradesh said awkwardly. He was really tall. He might even be taller than Heidi. I’d never noticed that before. “What he did, I mean. He’s done that to me, too. He’s a lummox.”

  “A what?” I said. See what I mean about the big words? I didn’t know what this one meant, but I liked the sound of it.

  “A stupid jerk,” Pradesh said. Even though I was still upset, I laughed. It was funny to hear Pradesh not using fancy words.

  “He’s a big lummox,” I agreed. I felt bad that I’d never noticed Avery being mean to Pradesh. I mean, I knew he was like that to everyone, but I thought most people didn’t care as much as I did.

  “OK. I should go — class,” he said. He tugged on one of his backpack straps.

  “Thanks again,” I said. “Seriously.” He shrugged and lobbed another carrot into the trash can with perfect aim.

  “Nice. You should try out for the basketball team,” I said.

  “Nah. I have to study for the spelling bee,” he said. His face lit up a little. He looked about as excited as Pradesh ever does. “I want to win the national bee in DC this year.”

  “Oh,” I said. “OK. Good luck.”

  He lifted his shoulders again and kind of loped away. I glanced around, but nobody was looking our way. Luckily Tara and Natasha were gone. Like Avery, they can pick up on anything potentially embarrassing from, like, five hundred miles away.

  I managed to finish cleaning up and got back to Mr. Peary’s classroom before the bell rang. I tried to focus on the positive. At least Avery wasn’t in my class. At least Trumpet would be excited to see me when I got home.

  I doodled musical notes all over my notebook while Mr. Peary talked about what we were going to read that year. I tried to draw little trumpets, but all my artistic talent is musical, so they looked kind of demented. Heidi glanced over a couple of times like she was trying to figure out what I was doing, but she didn’t say anything.

  So when I walked into my house that afternoon, I was feeling kind of warm and fuzzy toward Trumpet and we did a lot of hugging and jumping up and down together. That lasted until I sat down at the piano. I had to practice. I hadn’t been able to concentrate properly during lunch, and I had less than two weeks until the talent show. Plus if I go too long without playing, I get really restless and nervous.

  Trumpet lay down on the armchair. She propped her head on her paws and gave me an innocent expression.

  “No singing along,” I warned her, trying to look stern. “Just listen. Be a good dog.”

  Trumpet tilted her head to the side and blinked.

  I played a few pieces without singing. When I looked over, Trumpet’s eyes were closed. Perfect. If she just kept sleeping, she’d be a great dog.

  I put up the “Alhambra” music and started to play. Barely two notes were out of my mouth when …

  “Auuuwwwwwh auuuuuuwwwwgh! AAAUUUUWWWWH! AUUUUWW​GUUUH!!”

  “Trumpet! No!” I scolded. “Bad! Bad!”

  “AUWF! AUWF!” she answered like she was agreeing with me … or maybe mocking me, it was hard to tell.

  “Why are you so bad? Hush up and listen!” I said.

  She lay down again, as if she had no idea what I wa
s getting so agitated about.

  I tried again. And again. And again. But every time, as soon as I opened my mouth, so did Trumpet. She howled gleefully through every song I tried to sing. My ears were ringing when I stopped. I couldn’t even get Mom to help, because she was with Isaac at his soccer practice. I was the only one at home. Me and the noisiest dog on the planet.

  “All right, come with me,” I said, standing up. Trumpet jumped off the chair right away. She trotted behind me up the stairs. I led her into Mom and Dad’s room and then over to their bathroom, which is as far away from the music room as you can get. Trumpet was instantly suspicious. She stopped next to Mom and Dad’s bed and stared at me.

  “Come on, Trumpet,” I said, pointing into the bathroom. “In you go.”

  She sat down.

  “In!” I said. “If you can’t be quiet, this is what happens.”

  Trumpet lay down, and then started slowly crawling under the bed, like she hoped maybe I wouldn’t notice if she just vanished.

  I ran over and grabbed her around her middle before she got all the way under. I dragged her out and picked her up. She flailed wildly in my arms, trying to get free. I hurried over to the bathroom and dropped her on the mat on the floor.

  “Now stay!” I said. “And quiet! Shush! Stay here and sleep or something like a normal dog!”

  Trumpet made a dash for the door, but I jumped in her way. She stuck her nose between me and the wall, trying to squeeze by. I pushed her back onto the mat, leaped into the bedroom, and shut the door fast.

  “OO​OO​OO​OO​OO​OO​OO​OU​UU​UU​UU​UU​UU​UU​UW​WW​WW​WW​WW​WW​WW​W,” Trumpet protested at the top of her lungs. I’m so loooonely! I’m so abaaaaaandoned! Why would you dooooooooo this to me?

  I hurried out of the bedroom and shut that door, too. If I shut the door to the living room and the door to the music room, that would make four doors between me and Trumpet, plus an entire floor. Surely then I could get some quiet.

  But that didn’t work at all. Trumpet didn’t even wait for me to sing. She just howled and howled. She did not like being shut up in my parents’ bathroom. She was so loud, I was pretty sure all the neighbors could hear her for blocks and blocks. I wondered if Nikos was home next door and what he thought about all the noise. It sounded like I was torturing her. Actually, it sounded like I was torturing a whole squadron of beagles and maybe a couple of dying hippos as well. Seriously, it was really loud.