9

The Swap

For the rest of the week, I worked with Goofy.

He did not learn any letters.

Or any words.

None.

But we had fun chasing Hector and rolling around together.

Even though it had nothing to do with reading.

On Friday I sat on the front steps with Goofy.

I had on my Grandma sweater. Because Mom made me wear it. Again.

Mom was mulching the garden.

Mulch is kind of like dirt. Mom says when she puts it around the plants, it’s like giving them a blanket.

But if you ask me, a blanket shouldn’t smell like cow poop.

“Why aren’t you and Goofy working?” Mom asked.

“The trick contest is tomorrow,” I said. “And he still hasn’t learned anything.” I sighed. “I think maybe Goofy is a dummy, Mom.”

I whispered that last part so he wouldn’t hear me.

“Roscoe, Goofy is the best dog in the world,” Mom said. “But he’s just a dog.

He can only do doggie things. If you work hard with him, maybe he can learn to fetch or shake hands. But mostly he’s going to do what he does best—love you!”

“But he doesn’t even know one letter, Mom!” I said.

Mom shook her head. “Maybe the problem isn’t the student,” she said. “Maybe the problem is the teacher.”

“But I’m a good teacher!” I cried.

“That poodle you told me about—” Mom said.

“Edward.”

“Edward,” Mom said. “Edward wasn’t reading, sweetie. It’s just a trick his owner taught him. A good trick, but still a trick.” Mom stood up. “I’m going to the garage to get some more mulch. I’ll be right back.”

I pictured that trophy. Shiny. Heavy. Gold.

If Goofy weren’t so goofy, I could have that trophy.

Down the sidewalk I saw Martin and Edward. Martin waved.

He paused and said something to Edward.

Edward waved his little poodle paw at me.

Goofy ran over to say hello.

The old-fashioned dog way.

With major sniffing and tail wagging.

“Hey,” I said. I gave Edward a pat.

Today he was wearing a pink-and-green sweater.

“Is that a white tiger on your sweater?” Martin asked.

“It’s a panda,” I said.

“It’s like you’ve got a whole zoo on there,” Martin said.

“Hey, how did you teach Edward to read?” I asked.

Martin just shrugged. “It’s kind of a secret,” he said.

“I’m trying to teach Goofy so he can be in the trick contest,” I said. “But he’s not a very good student.”

Goofy licked my hand.

I felt awful for saying that about a friend.

“Don’t get me wrong,” I added. “He’s the greatest. He just doesn’t know his letters.”

“Well,” Martin said, “even Edward took a long time to learn.”

“I wish I could take Edward to the contest,” I said. “He’d for sure win.”

Goofy sighed and lay down on the sidewalk.

I felt even worse.

Martin thought for a minute. Then he started grinning.

“You know,” he said, “I might be able to let you borrow Edward.”

I felt my eyes get wide. “You would let me borrow Edward for the contest?” I cried. “Name your price!”

Martin thought. “You know, I do like that sweater. It’s very unusual.”

I had to think for a minute. “You mean this sweater? This one I’m wearing? With smiley faces and monkeys on it?”

“Yep,” said Martin. “It’s one of a kind.”

“That’s for sure,” I agreed. “But the thing is, my grandma knitted this for me. With love.”

Martin shrugged. “That’s okay. It was just an idea.”

I pictured myself holding that shiny, glittering-in-the-sun, could-even-be-real-gold trophy.

I looked down at poor old goofy Goofy.

I checked over my shoulder.

Mom was back in the garden, busy mulching.

“No, wait,” I whispered. “It’s a deal. Follow me.”

We went behind some tall bushes. Goofy and Edward came, too.

I took off my itchy, ugly sweater.

It was the best trade I’d ever made.

Except for the time I talked Hazel into giving me her double-scoop chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream cone for a pink rubber band.

“Don’t put it on till you get to the end of the street, okay?” I said.

Martin held up the sweater. “Is that a crocodile?” he asked.

“I think it’s a rabbit,” I said.

I touched the crocodile-rabbit’s little nose.

“My tuba lesson is at ten tomorrow,” Martin said. “I’ll drop off Edward before I go.”

“Great!” I said. “Ed, give me five!”

Edward put up his paw and we high-fived.

“It’s Edward,” Martin said. “Not Ed.”

I’m not sure, but I think maybe Goofy groaned.

Goofy and I went back to the porch. I was cold.

On account of I didn’t have my sweater anymore.

It was ugly and itchy. But it sure was warm.

“Roscoe,” Mom said, “where’s your sweater?”

“I—” I swallowed. “I, uh, took it off.”

Which was true.

True-ish.

“It’s chilly out here,” Mom said. “You really need it.”

“Goof and I are going in now, anyway,” I said. “I think he’s had enough learning. See you, Mom.”

Goofy and I ran inside. I closed the door behind me.

In the hallway was a picture of me and Max and Hazel and my grandma and grandpa at a baseball game.

I thought about Grandma knitting all those furry little animals and smiley faces.

It probably took her a very long time.

She’d made that panda special. Because I was in the Panda reading group.

Martin would never even know that.