The next day I picked up Duchess, a small, light brown puggle with deep wrinkles in her forehead and drooping ears. Puggles are crosses between pugs and beagles, so they aren’t big. She was a big-time sniffer, though. For some dogs, the world was nothing but a million wonderful scents. You would think a sidewalk would smell like sidewalk. But then, you’re not a dog.

Smelling sorts of dogs like to smell everything, so it was hard to get Duchess going in the right direction. “C’mon, Duchess,” I begged. “This way.”

Duchess ignored me and smelled a lamppost.

“Duchess!” I wailed. “We’ve got money waiting.”

Finally, we got to the street corner a few blocks away, although it took forever to get there. Thankfully, Fisher and about ten of his friends were still waiting. When they saw me, they cheered. I waved. If they each brought three dollars, and they each walked Duchess, well, I didn’t have to do the math to know I’d be sitting on a big pile of money.

“One at a time,” I shouted, handing the leash to some boy with snot all over his face. “You’ll each get a turn.”

I lay down against a tree. The day was warm. The shade felt good. “Walk for three minutes, and then pass Duchess to the next kid. Just don’t let go of the leash,” I muttered.

It was really peaceful under that tree. A bit too peaceful, it seems. Because the next thing I knew, someone was kicking my leg.

“What? Huh? Done already?” I mumbled, surprised. Standing above me was a lady, probably someone’s mother, wearing an angry frown. She handed me Duchess’s leash and shook her finger at me. Her face was flushed. “What do you think you’re doing?” she screeched.

“Dog walking?” I said

She yelled at me about stealing money from little kids. I tried to explain that I didn’t steal anything — that it was all the law of supply and demand and they had a demand I was supplying. But the lady didn’t want to hear any of it. She must not have studied economics in school. She made me return all the money to the kids and told me if she saw me charging kids again, she would call my parents.

And I couldn’t let that happen. Mom would just say I was irresponsible. But I wasn’t! I was trying!

It’s just not as easy being responsible as you’d think.

And I needed to earn money quickly. I would have explained that to the woman, but she was already stomping away, leading the kids across the street. A bunch of them looked back at me, disappointed.

The lady was probably a cat person.

Back home, Lexi still tutored. I don’t know how anyone could stand being around schoolwork for so many hours in the day. If it was me, my brain would have exploded. As I passed Lexi’s room, her door opened and her friend Sophie walked out. They didn’t notice me. I stopped in the hallway, my hand on my doorknob. I kept silent.

“Thanks, Lexi,” said Sophie. “Sorry I can’t pay you or anything.”

“That’s okay,” said Lexi. “That’s what friends are for.”

“It’s just that I’m saving my money to buy those shoes I was telling you about.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hannah isn’t paying, either. Same time tomorrow?”

“You bet!”

As I turned my doorknob to go into my room, it squeaked just loudly enough for Lexi to notice. “What are you looking at, baby brother?” she snapped.

“I’m not a baby.”

“Are you spying?” she snarled.

“I’m just standing here. It’s a free country. And a free hallway. And apparently, free tutoring.”

“It’s none of your business what I’m doing,” she barked.

“It’s a shame people can’t actually pay you.” I removed a wad of cash from my pocket. “I wonder how much money I made today,” I slowly counted out the bills. “Five dollars … ten dollars …”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know we’re getting a dog.”

“We’re getting a cat.”

“A dog!”

Just then the doorbell rang. Lexi shook her head. “Whatever,” she mumbled. She headed downstairs to answer the door.

“Another free lesson?” I called behind her. “Have fun! I’ll be throwing all my money on my bed and rolling in it!”

“Baby brother!” yelled Lexi.

“I’m not a baby!”

Sticks and stones break bones, but names don’t. I bet half of her customers weren’t paying her. I couldn’t help but smile. Her great tutoring plan wasn’t so great after all. She should know nothing in life is free, especially pets.

She should create a glittery chart: how long it takes to earn five hundred dollars when you don’t charge anyone money. The answer was forever. Even me, the non-math genius, knew that.

I went to my room, which was now my business office. All mega-companies need offices. I had my shoe box to keep my money in. I had my notebook to write down my appointments. I had three pencils to write with, and only two of them needed to be sharpened. I had a box of sandwich bags and brown paper bags to keep dog poop in. After all, You Oughta Call Otto’s Dog Walking Service was about cleanliness. I had a calendar, although it was last year’s. Still, a Tuesday is a Tuesday, right? It’s not like the days change names every year.

I wrote down in my notebook:

“Pay Mom back for three pencils, sandwich bags, and paper bags: $8.00.”

I threw the money I had collected that day on my bed. I greedily counted it. $22.52.

I thought I should have had more money, though. I had absolutely no idea where the fifty-two cents came from. I had been given a one-dollar tip by Mr. Roofus, but I must have given the wrong change back to Mrs. Greely. Or maybe I charged her the wrong amount. In fact, I think I had been making money mistakes every day.

I called Malcolm to tell him how well things were going, not including the math problems. Or my falling asleep. Or accidentally showing up late for every appointment that day. But it wasn’t my fault my watch broke. Two weeks ago.

“My next appointment is at three thirty tomorrow,” I told him, looking at a note I squinted to read. I was pretty sure it said three thirty. Yes, it said three thirty. Definitely.

Probably. I groaned.

“What was that?” asked Malcolm.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Things couldn’t be going better.”

“It sounded like you groaned. Have you finished those math worksheets yet?”

“Almost,” I answered, although I didn’t remember getting any math worksheets. Still, almost can mean just about anything. When Mom asked if my room was clean, or if I was ready for bed, or if I was done with a chore, I’d just say, “Almost.” Who could argue with that? “Things are perfect,” I boasted to Malcolm, my fingers crossed.

I looked at another appointment scribble. The pencil tip had broken while I wrote down that address, so it was a little messy. I wasn’t sure if I wrote 426 Pine Drive or 928 Pline Avenue. Pine. Pline. Those are stupid street names, anyway. They should name roads with names like the Amazing Otto Drive, the Unbelievably Awesome Otto Avenue, and the Super Terrific Otto Highway.

Maybe I could get paid for naming streets. I’d do it for a one-time fee of five hundred dollars. That would have been a pretty excellent deal if you asked me.

After I hung up with Malcolm, I stayed up kind of late looking over my notes and trying to read them. I was going to be on time tomorrow to my appointments.

I was going to try really hard to be extra responsible. After all, I was the new, responsible Otto.