The phone rang. I was at the kitchen table, eating peanut butter on a rice cake really slowly, so that it would be time for supper before I’d even started my homework. My mother’s hands were wet, rinsing the broccoli, so I answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me. Did you do the homework yet?”
“Who’s on the phone, honey?” asked my mother.
I turned my back. Who appointed her the phone monitor?
“Hi, Hubert,” I said to my best friend. “Uh, no. I haven’t started yet. Why?”
“You know the history assignment? The coat of arms? The one we have to create for our own family?”
“Yeah?”
“The word is ‘yes,’” said my mother.
“Do you think this is good?” asked Hubert. “I’m going to use a Chinese dragon, you know, for my heritage. And a ship, because that’s how we got here. And I need something else, to symbolize me. What do you think?”
“You should use a package of Banana Bubbalot Gum,” I said.
“Billie, that’s perfect! You’re so smart sometimes! What are you going to do?”
“Probably a cracked heart, for my heritage, for my broken home.” I noticed my mother had no comment on that statement. “And, I don’t know what other stuff yet.”
“How about a book?”
“A book isn’t exactly thrilling,” I said.
“Isn’t it about time to start doing your homework instead of just talking about it?” asked my mother.
“I have to go, Hubert,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
I hung up. The rice cake was gone. I opened my binder. I rearranged the pencils in their pencil loops. The phone rang.
Lucky for me, my mother’s hands were wet again, rinsing the basmati rice.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Billie?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hi! It’s Jody! I haven’t talked to you for so long! How was your summer? Do you even remember me?”
“Sure.” How could I forget?
“Who’s on the phone, honey?”
I turned my back and hunched over.
“Oh, my God, I had to go away on a nightmare vacation with my parents to the shopping capitals of Europe. The only good part was going to the Museum of Science and Industry, in Paris. Um, anyway, do you remember my dog, Pepper?”
“Of course.”
“Well, Pepper had an adventure out in the world. She ran away one night, and I was going completely crazy walking around the streets calling and calling her name. I even phoned the police to see if anyone had reported a dead dog, but it turns out that she was just off having a good time, and about a month ago, she had puppies!”
“Puppies!”
My mother glanced up. “In your dreams …” she murmured.
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “How many?”
“Three of the cutest little furballs you ever saw. My mother is having a nervous breakdown. Of course she never bothered to realize that Pepper was a girl, and suddenly her closet turns into a birthing room. She opened the door one morning and there was Pepper, curled up on Mom’s tangerine cashmere sweater, licking her pups.”
Listening to Jody is like hearing someone talk in Fast Forward. She uses up words at twice the pace of anyone else.
“Anyway,” she kept on going, “my cousin Amy is hopefully taking one of them, if her brother’s not allergic, and there’s a kid at school who might … but I was wondering if you might want the other one?”
“Oh, yes, totally!” My brain was letting off sparks, I was trying to think so fast. “I’m going to call you back, okay? I just have to work things out.”
“Is that code for begging your mother?”
“Uh-huh.” I dropped my voice to the slightest whisper. “But save one for me, okay? I’ll call you in a couple of days.” I hung up quickly. I flung open my books in a fever of industry.
I’ve been dying to have a pet for about five years. My sister, Jane, doesn’t count, even though she spends a portion of every day down on her knees, panting or whinnying.
A dog would be best, but a cat would be okay. I’m not going to be ridiculous and ask for a horse or a monkey.
Apparently someone gave me a goldfish the summer Jane was born, and I forgot to feed it and it turned belly-up; my mother has told me ever since that I am not old enough to be responsible for another living creature. Plus I guess she doesn’t want me to be.
The last time I tried the pet subject with my mother, I didn’t get very far.
“Well,” she said, “I suppose we could get a toad. It would be useful for eating the cockroaches.”
“Mom, we don’t have cockroaches. I’ve seen one about twice in my life.”
“Well, then, it wouldn’t be fair to the toad, would it? The poor toad would starve to death here. Sorry, no toads.”
“Mom! I don’t want a toad! I want a dog!”
“I’ll be happy to get a dog, as soon as we move to a farm.”
And guess what? We don’t have any plans to move to a farm.
But now Jody was offering me a puppy! Free, and no doubt really cute. Pepper is white, sort of a terrier, with brown freckles all over her nose.
“Who had puppies?” asked my mother.
“Oh, uh …” I couldn’t even lie and say “some kid from school,” because my mother is the librarian at our school, and she knows every kid and every parent and probably every dog who goes there.
“Uh, a friend of Hubert’s family,” I said.
“Nothing better than a new puppy for messing up your life,” said my mother, looking me straight in the eye. “I’m so glad we don’t have to deal with that.”