Brady filled the bathroom sink with cold water. He dunked his head. He shook like a dog. Water drops splattered on the mirror.
“Grrr…,” growled Brady. He waggled his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Watch out! I have rabies!”
Brady wiped his face and arms with a towel and slipped down the hallway, past Gramp’s bedroom. The door was partly open. Gramp perched on the edge of his bed. Grit sat in front of him, resting his silky head on Gramp’s knees.
For a second Brady felt guilty when he thought of the ruined card game. Gramp had made a big deal about searching for a bucket and a mop to clean it up. Then he remembered what Gramp had done. It serves him right, thought Brady. Gramp was nothing but a crazy old cheater. With a mean, old, used-up dog.
Brady slid out the front door and shut it quietly behind him. He leaned on the porch railing. Abra was playing in her front yard with Cool It. She threw an old green tennis ball against the side of her house. It bounced back and rolled between Cool It’s front legs. He pounced on it and tore around the yard in a wild circle.
“The incredible, the amazing, the unbelievable SUPER DOG,” she said in a piercing voice. She gave a low bow. “And now, SUPER DOG will…”
Brady jumped off the porch and stuck his head over the fence. “How’s your training going?”
“Great.” Abra and Brady stared at Cool It. He had dropped the tennis ball and was digging frantically in a corner of a flower bed.
Abra sighed. “Awful, actually. I can’t believe the show is tomorrow. I wish I’d never heard of it.”
“Me too,” said Brady.
Cool It abandoned his hole and bounded over to Abra. He planted his dirty paws in the middle of her T-shirt and grinned.
Abra and Brady laughed. Brady wondered how he had ever been afraid of Cool It. He was just a big mush. Abra pushed her dog away. “Do you want some lemonade?”
Brady hesitated. So far, Abra hadn’t said one thing about his dog training or Gramp. And he was hot. “Okay.”
The kitchen in Abra’s house was bright. Pots brimming with red flowers filled the windowsill. Abra’s mother was checking something in the oven. Brady’s stomach rumbled. It smelled delicious.
Abra’s mother smiled. “Hi, I’m Sue. You must be Brady. Abra told me you’re staying with your grandfather.”
“Just in the day,” said Brady. “I’m helping out until Mom finds a new housekeeper. She can’t do it because she started her new job.”
“Well, you must be a very thoughtful boy. I’ve been meaning to take something over for your grandfather, but I’ve been awfully busy getting the house straightened around since we got back. I’ll try to get a casserole put together.”
Resentment flooded through Brady’s head. He thought about all the times Gramp had skunked him in cards. He thought about Gramp’s gloating face. He thought about Grit. “Tuna,” he said. “Maybe you could make a whole bunch of tuna fish casseroles, and he could freeze them and eat them all winter.”
Sue and Brady beamed at each other. Then Abra said, “Brady caught his hand in the garburator.”
Brady’s cheeks burned. “I do the cooking and stuff over there,” he mumbled.
“Oh,” said Sue. She frowned. “That’s a lot of responsibility for a young boy.”
“It’s okay,” said Brady. “We mostly eat hot dogs and chips.”
Sue’s frown deepened.
“Sometimes he gets locked in the attic,” said Abra.
Sue stared at Brady. “Good heavens!”
Brady wiggled. “Actually…”
“You poor boy! Abra, I want you to lay an extra place at the table. We’re having Chicken Supreme for lunch, and it’s almost ready.” She patted Brady’s head. “And then we’ll see about all this. Where did you say your mother was working?”
“The credit union.”
Brady plopped into a chair with a huge sigh. Chicken Supreme. It smelled almost as good as Mom’s. And he was starving.