At school the next day, Quinn made sure to get to her art class as early as possible. She needed to ask Mr. Spaulding for a favor—a big favor—and she wanted to make sure she got off on the right foot.

The art studio was all set up to begin a new unit: sculpture. There was a slab of damp clay at each workstation, along with an assortment of cool-looking tools, including hooks, loops, and dowels. They seemed really interesting, and Quinn was so eager to try sculpting that she almost reconsidered her special request.

Almost.

The students started filing into the room, each one choosing a different workstation. One of Mr. Spaulding’s rules was that everyone had to switch seats at the start of a unit. “Artists need to see the world from all different angles,” he had said. “You don’t want to get stuck in the same old seat, staring at the same old things.”

Eliza Evans, one of the most popular girls at Marion Middle School, dropped her backpack at the workstation next to Quinn’s.

“Hey,” Quinn said with a little wave.

“Hey,” Eliza replied. She glanced curiously at the box on Quinn’s workstation. “What’s that? An early Christmas present?”

“Not exactly,” Quinn said, giggling. “It’s actually—”

Just then, Mr. Spaulding entered the room. Quinn grabbed the box and got up so fast that her chair screeched across the floor. She knew she had to catch Mr. Spaulding quickly, before he started class, if she wanted to make her special request.

“Mr. Spaulding?” Quinn asked as she hurried up to the teacher. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” he replied as he reached for his art apron. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Quinn replied. “I just—I was hoping I could ask you a favor.”

Mr. Spaulding raised an eyebrow as he nodded at her. “Go ahead.”

“Would it… would it be okay if I work on my own project during the sculpture unit?” Quinn asked, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I could make up the sculpture work during Christmas break so that I don’t miss out.”

Mr. Spaulding frowned. “I have a pretty strict policy about this sort of thing, Quinn,” he began. “If one student wants to get out of a unit, the next thing you know, everyone wants to skip out on the assignment.”

Quinn’s heart fell. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, she thought. I can’t imagine any other teacher letting me off the hook.

“But I have been known to make exceptions in exceptional cases,” Mr. Spaulding continued. “Why do you need to work on an original project during class time, Quinn?”

Quinn opened the red box to show him the ornaments. “Over Thanksgiving, I painted a bunch of ornaments to benefit the Marion Animal Shelter,” she explained. “And it turns out they were a really big hit! I got forty-seven custom orders at the gala last Saturday!”

“Wow!” Mr. Spaulding replied. “Impressive—and unsurprising. These look great, Quinn. You should be very proud.”

“Thank you,” Quinn said, beaming from the praise. “The only problem is—that’s a lot of ornaments. And my dad says I have to finish my homework before I can paint them at home.”

“Very sensible,” Mr. Spaulding said, nodding.

“And I guess I just feel a lot of pressure to get all the ornaments finished before Christmas,” Quinn continued. “Especially since I’m going to donate half of the profits to the animal shelter.”

Mr. Spaulding tapped his chin thoughtfully. As Quinn waited for him to respond, she started to feel a teeny, tiny, itty-bitty flicker of hope.

“You make a compelling case,” he finally said. “This certainly is a time-sensitive art project, and for a very good cause. A cause that’s close to my own heart, I should add. I adopted my cat, Penny, from the Marion Animal Shelter nine years ago.”

“You did?” Quinn exclaimed.

“Can’t imagine life without Penny,” Mr. Spaulding said, chuckling to himself. “Yes, Quinn, you have permission to paint ornaments during class time, with the expectation that you will complete the sculpture unit on your own time during the holiday break.”

“Thank you!” Quinn exclaimed happily. “I promise I’ll work extra hard on my sculpture project! I’ll—I’ll even do extra-credit assignments!”

Quinn scurried back to her seat as Mr. Spaulding began to teach the class about sculpture. His introductions to a new topic always included a PowerPoint slide show, which gave Quinn time to gather all the supplies she would need to paint ornaments instead of sculpt clay. She could tell that the other students were watching curiously as she put away the clay tools and got out her paintbrushes. Even Eliza at the next workstation was intrigued.

At the end of Mr. Spaulding’s presentation, the students started working with the damp, heavy clay—except for Quinn.

“No clay?” Eliza asked in a low voice. “How come?”

In a hushed whisper, Quinn told her all about the ornament-painting project.

“That’s incredible!” Eliza said when Quinn finished. She looked genuinely impressed.

“Thanks,” Quinn replied. “I really love being a volunteer at the shelter, and I wish I could help all the animals there find homes. So I’m glad that the ornaments can help pay their expenses. It gets really expensive to take care of so many animals. You wouldn’t believe how much food Mrs. Alvarez has to order every month. And the vet gives her a pretty big discount but, you know, medicines and surgeries and checkups can get really expensive.”

“I didn’t know kids were allowed to volunteer at the animal shelter,” Eliza said.

“You have to take a special class and get permission from your parents,” Quinn explained. “It’s one of my favorite things to do. I’ve loved animals ever since I was little.… I used to have this big plan to have twenty pet cats!”

“Twenty pet cats!” Eliza said, cracking up.

Quinn smiled sheepishly. “I know—crazy,” she replied. “I think that’s when my dad started introducing me to art. Twenty paint sets is a lot easier to handle.”

“Oh, I’m not laughing at you,” Eliza said quickly. “I’m laughing because I had a plan like that when I was little, too. I wanted to have an orange cat, a gray cat, a tabby cat, a tuxedo cat.…”

Quinn started to laugh. “A cat collection!” she said.

“Collect them all!” Eliza added, laughing even harder.

“Girls…” Mr. Spaulding said in a warning voice.

Quinn and Eliza immediately stopped laughing and got back to work. Mr. Spaulding liked it when students enjoyed art class… but he never hesitated to let them know when they were having a little too much fun.

“So what kinds of things do you do at the shelter?” Eliza asked. “Is it, like, cleaning cages and scooping litter boxes?”

“Sometimes,” Quinn admitted. “But most of the time, I get to play with the animals so that they learn how to trust people. Sometimes I answer the phones or file paperwork. It depends on what Mrs. Alvarez needs on any particular day.”

“My parents and I have been talking about getting a cat,” Eliza said thoughtfully. “I mean, they’ve been talking about a cat; I’ve been begging for a cat.”

Quinn stifled her laugh. “I know what that’s like,” she said. “I begged my dad to let us adopt our cat, Piper, for, like, six months.”

“They’re not sure I’m responsible enough yet,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes. “But how can I show them how responsible I am if they won’t give me a chance to prove it?”

“I know, right?” Quinn exclaimed. Then she had an idea. “You know, if you adopt a pet from the shelter and it doesn’t work out, you can return it for up to a year.”

“Really?” Eliza looked surprised. “People do that?”

“Sometimes,” Quinn said. “I mean, obviously it’s not ideal, and that’s not what anybody ever wants, but sometimes it just isn’t a good match.”

“That’s so sad.”

“It is. But what I mean is—you could tell your parents that if you don’t take care of the cat, they can bring it back to the shelter,” Quinn said.

“That’s actually genius,” Eliza said. “I wonder if they’ll go for it.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Quinn replied.

“I mean, I get why my mom doesn’t exactly want to add ‘scooping a litter box’ to her daily to-do list,” Eliza said. “She’s crazy busy with work and stuff already. But I don’t think I’d mind it that much.”

“It’s really not that bad when you get used to it,” Quinn told her. Then she had an idea. “Why don’t you visit me at the shelter some afternoon?”

Immediately after she said it, Quinn felt weird. Had she really just invited the most popular girl in seventh grade to hang out with her at the animal shelter?

“Not, like, for litter box cleaning lessons or anything,” Quinn plowed on, feeling dumber with every word. “Just to play with some kitties. Oh! We have a mama cat and two kittens right now. They are so cute! You will love them. I mean, if you want to stop by sometime. Or not.”

“Yeah,” Eliza said, nodding. “That sounds cool. I’ve never been to the animal shelter before, actually. I’d like to check it out. When do you volunteer?”

“It kind of depends on how much homework I have,” Quinn replied. “But I’m probably going tomorrow afternoon. And maybe again on Friday.”

“Cool,” Eliza said. “I’ll try to come by.”

“Seems like you two are enjoying your new workstations,” Mr. Spaulding said lightly. That was another clue that Quinn and Eliza were chatting a little too much.

“Sorry,” Quinn replied before turning all her attention to the ornament she was painting, a turtle on a metallic green globe. She knew that Mr. Spaulding had given her a special opportunity to work on her ornaments during class time… and she didn’t want to blow it!

The next afternoon, Quinn looked up every time she heard the jingle bells on the door ring, certain that the next person who came into the shelter would be Eliza. But each time, she was wrong. It was getting a little silly—it seemed like those bells were ringing every few minutes, yet each time she heard them, Quinn jumped. After she’d been volunteering for almost two hours, though, Quinn had to face the truth: Eliza wasn’t going to show up.

Maybe she forgot, Quinn thought. Maybe she’s cramming for a big test. But the one thought Quinn didn’t want in her mind—that Eliza had blown her off—kept creeping in uninvited. Quinn tried to shrug it off. If Eliza didn’t want to visit the cats—or hang out with her—there was nothing Quinn could do about it.

Even if it did make her feel kind of lousy.

The bells jingled again. Again, Quinn looked up. It still wasn’t Eliza—but it was someone else she knew.

“Hey, Charlie!” Quinn exclaimed. “What’s up?”

“Today’s the big day,” Ms. Ferrino announced as she walked in behind her son. “Mrs. Alvarez called this morning to tell us that Nana’s adoption has been approved!”

“Yay!” Quinn cheered gleefully. Adoption days were the best! “Let me get Nana’s going-home bag together.”

Charlie tugged on his mom’s sleeve. “Can I see Buddy real quick?” he asked. “To give him the… surprise?”

Ms. Ferrino glanced at her watch.

“Please?” Charlie begged. “I just want to say hi. He’s my new best friend!”

Mrs. Alvarez walked behind the counter. “Quinn, you can take Charlie back to see Buddy. I’ll take care of everything up here,” she said.

“You got it,” Quinn replied. “Come on, Charlie! Let’s go see Buddy B!”

“Why do you call him Buddy B?” Charlie asked as Quinn brought him back to Buddy’s pen. “Does his last name start with B?”

Quinn shook her head. “Buddy doesn’t have a last name,” she said. “It’s just a silly nickname I made up.”

“If Buddy came to my house, his last name would be Ferrino. Like me,” Charlie said.

Quinn chose her next words very carefully. “Do you think that’s something that might happen?” she asked.

Charlie, his eyes gleaming, nodded. “I hope so,” he confided. “I wrote a letter to Santa Claus and told him all about Buddy. So maybe…”

“Maybe!” Quinn replied.

Thump-thump-thump!

Buddy’s wild wagging tail was at it again.

“Okay, you two,” Quinn said as she opened up the pen. “Have a nice visit!”

“Buddy!” Charlie exclaimed gleefully. He burst into the pen and threw his arms around Buddy’s neck. “I missed you, boy! Did you miss me? I brought you a present! It’s a squeaky Santa!”

Quinn stepped back, keeping an eye on Buddy and Charlie through the glass windows of the pen. They were having a great time playing with the chew toy Charlie had brought—when he tossed it into the air, Buddy grabbed it and shook his head back and forth, making the rubber Santa go sqqqqquuuueak-sqqquuuueak!

Watching them play, Quinn had that funny feeling again that maybe, just maybe, Buddy had found his family after all.

Even if they didn’t know it yet.