Where are you going?” hissed Hubert as I headed down the wrong stairs for the computer lab.
“We have to make a detour,” I hissed back.
“We? Billie, I don’t like this.” Hubert is such a worrywart, he could be a grandfather already.
As we passed the bathroom in the first-floor stairwell, I grabbed his arm.
“Quick, come in here!” I dragged him in and closed the door before he could open his fussy mouth.
“Billie, you are a bully. That should be your name. Billie the Bully, like a Viking. And another thing. What do you mean, ‘It’s a dog’?”
I opened my backpack and lifted Harry out. He gave a couple of excited yips and shook himself so that I had to put him down to avoid dropping him.
“Hubert,” I announced, “allow me to introduce Harry. Harry, this is my best friend, Hubert, so be nice. Don’t pee on his jeans or anything.”
Hubert gasped. “Oh, Billie, don’t tell me … You’re kidding, right? Please say that I’ve gone cuckoo, because that would be so much better than what I think is going on here….”
“I wanted you to meet him,” I said, ignoring his tirade. Harry was licking my ankle. I lifted him into my arms and headed out into the hallway again. Hubert was tripping over himself, trying to keep up.
“What we need,” I said, pausing beside the Lost & Found box in the front hall, “is a leash.”
I was hoping for a belt or a bag strap.
“What you need is a brain,” muttered Hubert.
“I’m disappointed in you, Hubert. I especially wanted you to meet him,” I said, digging with one hand among the abandoned sweatshirts and lone sneakers while Harry batted me with his paw.
“You’re the only person I can tell, because you were there the first time. Jody’s dog, Pepper, remember her? She had puppies, only my mom won’t let me have one, so we had this idea and—”
“And it’s a dumb idea, Billie. You have a dog that no one can see! What’s the point? The whole point is to think your dog is the cutest dog and to teach him cute tricks and to go around looking at your cute dog all day.”
“Oh, he’s cute all right. He’s the cutest. Hey!” I’d found the perfect thing.
“Look!” From the bottom, I pulled out a fluorescent pink skipping rope.
“Billie, I’m going to computer lab.”
“Just come with me for one second,” I insisted.
I coiled the rope around my wrist and carried Harry in my arms, making Hubert lug my pack.
In the library, I crouched down beside the shelf with domestic animal books, Dewey decimal number 636. My mother’s substitute was a parent volunteer. She had her glasses about two inches away from a fat book called Murder on Long Island, so I figured we were safe.
I put Harry on the floor and got him to sit next to my knees. I plucked the Encyclopedia of Dogs from its place and started to flip through the pages.
“What are you doing?” demanded Hubert.
“Hold your horses. I’m going to show you what he looks like so you’ll know I’ve got the cutest dog.”
I flipped the pages back and forth, hunting for a picture that looked like Harry. Harry leaned against my thigh, panting as usual.
“See? Sort of like that.”
Harry is a mutt with a large dose of terrier. I showed Hubert the closest, cutest picture I could find.
“‘Personality,’” I read aloud, “‘courageous, merry, devoted, obedient.’ See? Who could ask a dog for anything more?”
I pulled another book called Puppy Care Guide for Children.
“Here,” I said, handing it to Hubert, “sign this out.”
“Why me? I already have a book out. All About Armor.”
“Hubert, just do it. I can’t have it on record that I took out this book. My mother is the librarian, in case you don’t remember.”
“Very funny.”
It was just plain bad luck that Ms. McPhee came in just then, trailed by a few of her students. She was our teacher last year, and she gets overexcited whenever she spots one of her “old” kids.
“Billie! Hubert! How nice to see you here! Are you doing some special research?”
“Er, um, yeah, sort of …” We mumbled a duet.
Suddenly Hubert lurched to one side and did a funny, leaning dance, trying to shake his left foot. I noticed that his shoelaces were disappearing.
“What are you working on this year?” asked Ms. McPhee, oblivious to Hubert’s discomfort.
“Oh, it’s so interesting,” I jumped in, trying to shield Hubert from close inspection. “We’re learning about the Middle Ages and how they never brushed their teeth or washed their hair or anything.”
Hubert was swaying behind me.
“Well.” Ms. McPhee nodded. “I won’t keep you. We have our own work to do, don’t we, kids?” She beamed at her group, and they moved off to the index files.
Hubert had just managed to tug himself free when Harry made a low, ominous growl. I’d heard it only once before, but already I knew what it meant.
“Hubert!” I panicked. “Grab the tissue box and follow me!” I picked up Harry, almost by the seruff of the neck, and ran with him, dangling, up the back stairs and into the courtyard. Then I dropped him, not too gently, onto the ground.
“Okay,” I said, “it’s safe now. You can poop out here.”
“Billie, that’s completely disgusting,” said Hubert.
But Harry performed his duty, and we waited for it to appear, and I cleaned it up and tossed it into the garbage can. I think Hubert was a little bit impressed.
Until the door swung open and our class came bursting out with hollers of freedom, and Hubert realized that it was recess time and he’d just cut computer class for the first time in his life.