Loudest Beagle on the Block, Page 8

  “Oh, Trumpet,” I said. “Why can’t you just be good?”

  Trumpet stood up and came over to rest her chin on the piano bench beside me. It was a little too high for her, so it looked really silly, the way she had to stick her head in the air to reach it. After a second, she sat down again, then stood up and put her front paws up on the bench beside me.

  “Sure,” I said, patting the bench. “It’s not like I can play either way.”

  Trumpet hoisted herself up beside me and stood there sniffing the piano keys. She put one paw tentatively on the keyboard and then leaned forward to sniff the top of the piano. BLAAAT! went the keys under her paw. She jumped back and nearly slipped off the bench, but I caught her.

  “I don’t know what to do, Trumpet,” I said, keeping my arms around her. “The talent show is one week away. I don’t know what to sing, I don’t have time to practice, and I’m afraid it’s going to be boring anyway.”

  She lifted her nose and licked my chin. Which didn’t really solve my problems … but at least I felt a little better.

  The doorbell woke me up on Saturday morning. I realized it was already ten o’clock. It was weird for Mom to let me sleep that late. Even Trumpet was still asleep, although she came wriggling out from under the bed when she heard the doorbell. She bounded over to my bedroom door and barked. And barked. And barked.

  I pulled my musical-note comforter over my head. Someone else would answer the door. Someone not in their cow pajamas.

  “Ella!” my mom’s voice called from downstairs. She said something else, but I couldn’t hear her over Trumpet’s barking.

  “Shush!” I said to Trumpet. “Trumpet! Shut up!”

  But finally I had to get up and open the door for her. Trumpet bolted down the stairs. I heard her barking her way into the living room, and then she got quiet, except for the jingling of her collar, which meant she was probably wagging her tail and getting petted.

  I got dressed quickly, just in case — not that I thought it would be Nikos, but I’d already made that mistake once! — and followed the dog down the stairs, yawning.

  “Ella, look who’s here,” Mom said as I poked my head into the living room.

  Heidi bounced to her feet. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I’m sorry, I know it’s early and I should have called first but this morning I knocked a picture frame off the wall and broke it and then I was trying to make pancakes but I forgot to put the lid on the blender and now there are bananas all over my kitchen and so I kind of had to get out of the house and I thought maybe I could come over here and maybe Mom would have forgotten how much she wants to kill me by the time I get home.” She made a please forgive me please scrunched-up face.

  I was still stuck back at “pancakes” and “blender,” and I think my mom was, too. She looked confused.

  “Um, that’s OK,” I said.

  “And so I thought maybe I could distract Trumpet some more and you could practice,” Heidi said. “If you want. Only if you want. Or I could go home. If you’re busy. Are you busy?”

  “No, no,” my mom said. Her eyes lit up. I’d told her about Heidi keeping Trumpet distracted. My mom loved this plan. Anything to help me practice. “We’re having bagels for breakfast, if you’d like one. Or did you eat already?”

  “No,” Heidi said ruefully. Her hair was covered with a light dusting of flour and had a couple of raisins stuck in it.

  “Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Mom said, and bustled off to the kitchen.

  Heidi looked at me and started giggling. “I like your hair,” she said.

  “My hair!” I said, pressing down my crazy curls. “Have you seen your hair?”

  Heidi went over to a mirror on the wall. She clapped her hands to her face and started laughing. “I biked over here like this!” she said. “The neighbors must think I escaped from an asylum or something.”

  “An asylum for crazy bakers,” I said. I helped her rescue the raisins from her hair.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” she said.

  “No, it’s OK, I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I was wondering how I’d get time this weekend to practice for the talent show.”

  “Oh yeah!” Heidi said excitedly. “I can help with that! Right, Trumpet?”

  Trumpet barked and ran in a circle around us, as if she was saying I love this plan too! I love it! It’s brilliant! Whatever you said! More treats!

  So after breakfast, Heidi took Trumpet outside with the soccer ball again.

  “I want to play soccer, too!” Isaac yelled.

  “Honey, don’t bother the girls,” Mom said.

  “It’s OK if he wants to,” Heidi said. “It’s easier to tire Trumpet out with two people. And then it’ll be like we’re training.” She smiled at Isaac and he grinned back. See, I told you — superpowers. Like Heidi can tame anything, even annoying little brothers.

  I practiced my two songs while they played outside, but I had trouble concentrating. I could hear Isaac shrieking whenever the ball flew past him, but that wasn’t what was distracting me. I felt like nothing would be right for the talent show. I tried some of my old songs. I listened to Charlotte Church’s album. I just couldn’t imagine singing these songs in front of my school anymore.

  Heidi came back in after an hour and collapsed on the rug in the music room. Trumpet went over to the chair and stood there for a moment like Aunt Miriam’s Pekingese, panting and staring thoughtfully at the cushion like it was just too hard to jump up. Then she went back to Heidi and flopped down with her head on one of Heidi’s outstretched arms. I turned around on the piano bench to face them.

  “I feel much better,” Heidi said. “Thanks, Ella.” Which was funny, because she was totally the one doing me a favor. She was all hot and sweaty from running around. It didn’t look like fun to me. She put one hand on her stomach, taking deep breaths to cool down.

  “Wow,” I said, “look how exhausted Trumpet is. That’s hilarious.”

  Heidi smiled and rolled sideways to pet Trumpet’s head. Trumpet snuffled but didn’t even open her eyes.

  “Maybe she’ll even sleep through you singing,” Heidi said. “Can I hear what you’re going to sing for the talent show?”

  “Oh … I haven’t decided yet, actually.” I picked up some sheet music and shuffled it in my hands. This one? This one? What would win?

  “Maybe I can help!” Heidi said.

  “OK — are you sure?” I said. “You won’t be bored?”

  “Are you kidding?” she said. “I loved that song you did last year. I wish I were talented like you.”

  “Well, I wish I went to New Zealand this summer, like you,” I said. “And I’m only good at this one thing. I’m terrible at other stuff.”

  “I’m terrible at everything!” Heidi said. “Except soccer, I guess. When I focus.”

  “See, sports is a good example,” I said. “I’m terrible at sports. Anything involving my feet is a disaster. Mom made me take ballet this summer and I learned that (a) pink is not my color, (b) leotards are evil, and (c) my feet point in one direction and one direction only.”

  “I took ballet, too!” Heidi cried. “Two summers ago. I was awful! In my third class I leaned on the barre too hard and it broke! All the ballerinas came crashing down! They kicked me out after that. Mercifully.”

  “Was Tara in your class?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Heidi said with a shudder. “People really shouldn’t be able to bend that way. It’s unnatural.” She lay down on her back again and closed her eyes. “Go ahead and play. I’m listening. And if a certain someone tries to sing along, I’ll sit on her until she stops.”

  “All right,” I said. “This one is called ‘The Last Rose of Summer.’ ” I sang it all the way through, and Trumpet didn’t make a peep.

  “You should do that one,” Heidi said when I finished. “That was amazing.”

  “Or there’s this one, ‘Alhambra.’ ” I said. Again I made it all the way through withou
t an off-key interruption. I was completely astonished. If we could just tire out Trumpet like this every morning, she might be a really good dog.

  “Oooh, do that one,” Heidi said. “I loved that one!”

  “Really?” I said. “Better than the first one? Are you sure?”

  “I don’t know, it’s hard,” she said. She sat up, wriggling her arm out from under Trumpet’s head, and tapped her fingers together. “They’re both pretty. It’s too bad the judges always go for funny instead, you know? Because if they were really looking for talent, you’d win every time, hands down.”

  “I really want to win this year,” I said. That would show Avery! “You think these won’t win?”

  “I don’t know,” Heidi said. “Maybe … do you know any funny songs?”

  “My voice teacher doesn’t like funny songs,” I said. “But — hang on.” I got off the piano bench. Trumpet opened her eyes and watched me hurry out of the room like she wished she had the energy to follow me.

  I went to my dad’s closet and turned on the light inside. I knew which file box to look in because it’s the same one where he keeps the songbooks we use at Passover, when he likes to play the piano and make everyone sing along. His other piano books were in the box, too. I pulled out a whole stack of them and brought them downstairs.

  Heidi’s eyes widened. “Your secret stash!” she cried. “You keep happy songs hidden in your closet! I knew it!”

  I laughed. “Actually, it’s my dad’s secret stash of happy songs.” I sat down on the floor beside her and gave her half the stack. “I bet there’s something in here I could learn by Friday.”

  Heidi picked up the first book. “Ella Fitzgerald!” she said. “I’ve heard of her!”

  “That’s who I’m named after,” I said.

  “Ooooohhhh,” Heidi said. “That makes sense. I never knew that.” She flipped to the table of contents. “ ‘Summertime’ … ‘Our Love Is Here to Stay’ … ‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off’ …”

  “Oh, that one’s funny,” I said. “Here, let me try it.” I took the songbook and put it up on the piano. The song was actually a duet, but the piano part wasn’t too complicated. Plus I’d heard it before, so I knew how it should go. I read through the music, touching the keys lightly.

  The version I’ve heard is Ella singing with Louis Armstrong, who has this deep, gravelly voice. So when I began playing, I did half the song in my regular voice and half in my best Louis Armstrong imitation. Heidi started laughing as soon as I busted that out. At the end they sing together so I kind of had to fancy my way around it. I hit the last notes with a flourish.

  Heidi was laughing too hard to talk for a minute. “That was crazy!” she said when she could breathe again. “Have you really never played that before?”

  “Well, this is an easy version,” I said.

  “Ella, you’re so funny! You have to do something like that. The judges will die! Everyone would love it!”

  I remembered Parker in the music room at school telling me I was funny, too. I couldn’t remember that happening before, although Dad always laughs at my jokes. But twice in one week — maybe it was a sign from the universe. Maybe I could find something easy enough to learn in a week … something that the judges would like, that would definitely not be boring.

  Something that would finally help me win the talent show.

  Mom was impressed when she found me playing the piano with Trumpet snoozing peacefully on the floor beside us.

  “See, maybe she’s not so bad,” I said.

  “Don’t you start, too,” Mom said. “Lunch is almost ready, girls.” She went back to the kitchen.

  Heidi gave me a puzzled look. “What did that mean?”

  “Mom wants to get rid of Trumpet,” I admitted. Heidi gasped.

  “But why? You just got her! And — and she’s perfect!”

  Trumpet opened her eyes and furrowed her brow and gave us the most perfectly mournful look.

  “I know, I guess — Mom’s just worried about my music and all the noise — she thinks it’s disrupting our lives.”

  “Oh, don’t let them give you away!” Heidi said, throwing her arms around Trumpet. Trumpet blinked at me like, Why is someone lying on me right now?

  “Let me help!” Heidi said. “I’ll come over every day if you want. It’s only like ten minutes by bike. I wouldn’t mind!”

  “I wouldn’t either,” I said. That kind of surprised me. I’d gone from being afraid of Heidi Tyler to kind of wanting her around all the time — in three days! “But you have soccer practice and stuff, or you might be on vacation — it’s too crazy.”

  “We’ll find a solution,” Heidi said. “I have every episode of The Dog Whisperer and It’s Me or the Dog saved on my TV. We can train her not to howl, I know we can! Dogs are amazing that way!”

  I shrugged doubtfully. “We can try,” I said.

  Boy, was that the wrong thing to say. Heidi went home after lunch, but she came back again on Sunday morning with a pile of books.

  “Look what I found in the library!” she said as soon as I opened the door. She waved the top book at me while Trumpet jumped around her feet. “Dog training! Perfect puppies! And I checked it out online, too. Did you know beagles are famous for howling so much?”

  “Oh, terrific,” I said. “See, Trumpet, you’re more normal than you thought.”

  “We should start with some basic commands,” Heidi said, leading the way into the music room and dumping the books on the rug. “Do you have any treats? I brought mine, but if you have more, we can use them. Or cheese or turkey or something.”

  I left her with Trumpet and went into the kitchen, where Dad was mixing pancake batter in a big blue plastic bowl.

  “This is great!” Dad said with a huge smile. “Heidi seems like a great, great girl. It’s great to meet your friends.”

  “Wait, so, do you think it’s great, or not?” I asked.

  “Really great,” Dad said again.

  “We’re going to work on training Trumpet for a while,” I said, opening the refrigerator. “Can I use these leftover meatballs?”

  “Sure!” Dad said. “But, um, maybe tell your mom that I ate them.” He winked at me.

  I took the Tupperware container into the music room. Heidi was sitting on the floor surrounded by open books. Trumpet was standing on one of them with her nose down on the page. It looked kind of like she was reading it, except the book was upside down.

  Trumpet sat bolt upright when I took the lid off the Tupperware. She could definitely smell the meatballs. She got up on her hind legs and stuck her nose up as high in the air as she could get it, sniffing and twitching it.

  “Oh, perfect,” Heidi said, clapping her hands. “Look how excited she is. That means she’s probably very food-motivated.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “I read about this last night. It means she’ll do anything for food,” Heidi said importantly.

  “Aha,” I said. “Like Isaac.”

  Heidi laughed and climbed to her feet. “Well, it should make her easier to train, so maybe you should try this technique on him, too. Let’s start with the regular treats first.” I closed the container again, and Heidi held out a dog treat in front of Trumpet’s nose. Trumpet jumped for it and Heidi pulled it away.

  “Sit,” Heidi said.

  Trumpet stared at her, wagging her tail. Her face said Dude, give me that treat. I know you don’t want it.

  “My dad tried this, too,” I said, “but it didn’t work so well. He had to kind of push her butt down to make her sit.”

  Heidi glanced at the book. “That’s not the best way. OK, you’re supposed to move it over their nose like this.” She stepped toward Trumpet and held the treat over the dog’s head. Trumpet raised her nose toward it — farther and farther back as Heidi moved it slowly. As Trumpet’s head went up, her butt slowly went down. Until, suddenly, Trumpet was sitting!

  “Good girl!” Heidi said happily, gi
ving Trumpet the treat. “Good sit! Good dog!”

  “That was so logical,” I marveled. “Like if she’s following the treat, it’s just easier for her to sit down, so of course she did.”

  “Exactly,” Heidi said. “Here, you try.” She tossed me a treat.

  I called Trumpet to me. Trumpet had seen the treat fly through the air so she came right over and stood in front of me, her eyes fixed on the treat in my hand. I did the same thing Heidi had done. I moved the treat over her head and said “sit” firmly. Trumpet’s nose went up. Her butt went down. She was sitting! I made her sit!

  “Yay!” Heidi squealed.

  “Good dog!” I said to Trumpet. “Whoever thought you’d hear that?” Trumpet was as excited as we were. She jumped to her feet and barked and wagged her tail like crazy. I was amazed. Maybe there really was hope for Trumpet after all.

  We practiced that until breakfast was ready. We each took turns calling Trumpet over and making her sit. Heidi showed me a hand signal that was supposed to help. While you held the treat in one hand, you were supposed to hold the other hand flat, palm up. She said dogs often learned the hand signals before they figured out the words.

  “Depending on how smart they are and how they learn best,” Heidi said. “Of course, Trumpet is a genius, so she’ll have it down in no time.”

  “A genius,” I said to Trumpet. “You hear that? You should appreciate Heidi for believing in you.” Trumpet wagged her tail like, I do! I do! I AM a genius!

  Dad couldn’t stop grinning at us all through breakfast. Seriously, I had no idea he thought I was so friendless. He didn’t really know Caroline or any of my music-camp friends. I would have tried a lot harder to bring someone home before if I knew he’d get so excited about it. Like, I always knew my mom had big dreams about my music. I just didn’t know that my dad also had such lofty goals for me, like “have friends over for pancakes.”