One Tough Chick Page 6

  This time Oliver didn’t pretend not to hear me. Instead he gave me a look of true sympathy.

  “Know what?” said Ted. “I’m not too far from the house. I’ll run home and get Pepper.”

  “Really?” I asked. “That’s awesome. Thanks, Ted.”

  “It’s no trouble at all. I’m leaving right now. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay!” I hung up and grinned at Oliver. “Ted is bringing Pepper.”

  Oliver smiled his fabulous, sweet, and sincere smile. “Awesome,” he said.

  “Thanks for waiting with me. I don’t want you to miss your audition, though.”

  “Okay,” said Oliver, standing up. “I’ll see you in there. If they call your number, I’ll stall them.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “You’re the best.”

  Oliver paused and gave me a quick hug. His shirt smelled like french fries, and I mean that in the best possible way.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said, his voice muffled against the sleeve of my shirt. Then he let go. “You’ll do great.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  As we stared into each other’s eyes I had this funny feeling. That he wanted to kiss me. But was I supposed to keep my eyes open or closed? I squinted a bit so they were half open and half closed. It seemed as if Oliver did the same. He smiled. Then he opened his mouth and leaned forward.

  This is it, I thought, our first kiss.

  Chapter Six

  Please Pass the Pepper

  Um, mind if I get my phone back?” Oliver whispered.

  My eyes flew open. I tried to speak, but my throat went dry. I couldn’t move, either. Oliver wanted his phone back. Of course that’s what he wanted.

  How obvious.

  How embarrassing.

  It took some time for my brain and body to compute this new information. This new nonkissing scenario.

  “Oh, sorry. Here.” I practically threw his phone at him. “Thanks so much.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Oliver. “I’m glad Ted is coming. I wish I could stay but I’ve got to go warm up.” He smiled at me like he felt bad for having to leave me alone under such stressful circumstances. At least I hoped he felt that way.

  “Good luck,” I said, giving him a little wave.

  “You, too.”

  After he took off I sat down on the bench and waited for Ted to arrive. And, lucky for me, he made amazing time.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I yelled as soon as he pulled up.

  Pepper barked and jumped from the backseat of Ted’s red Jeep. Once I opened the door to let him out he leaped all over me, slobbering with his wet pink tongue. “Down, boy,” I said, laughing. “I’m excited to see you, too, but come on …”

  “I got in touch with your mother and she feels terrible about this entire situation,” Ted told me. “I hope you’ll forgive her. She’s got a lot on her mind these days.”

  I was annoyed, but I didn’t want to talk to Ted about it. Nor did I have time.

  “Are you ready for your debut?” he asked.

  “Now I am.”

  “Good. I’m sure you’ll knock ’em dead.” He handed me Pepper’s leash, and we ran to the gym.

  It may have been my imagination, but Pepper seemed even more hyper than usual. Maybe it’s because he’d never been to my school before. And he probably knew how excited I was about the talent show. I figured that meant he’d do an awesome job. He certainly had during our practice sessions yesterday.

  Pepper could come, sit, stay, and speak. Not words, obviously. I mean that he could bark on command. He could also shake with both his right and his left paws, although he didn’t yet recognize the commands left and right. No biggie, though, because sometimes I get them mixed up, too.

  He’ll occasionally jump through a Hula-Hoop, except not always on cue. I’d decided not to try that trick at school because it didn’t seem worth the risk. What if Pepper messed up or simply refused to jump and the judges thought I wasn’t prepared? I didn’t want to blow my chances based on one trick. This audition was too important.

  I figured he’d be ready for the actual show in a few weeks, but for now we’d keep things simple and not take any risks.

  “You’re ready to show off your stuff, right?” I asked him, once we got to the gym.

  Pepper wagged his tail hard and panted, more enthusiastic than ever as we ran inside. We got plenty of attention when we burst through the doors of the gym. Everyone seemed to stare.

  I looked at the three judges. Mr. Beller, my English teacher, was one of them. He’s the grumpiest teacher I’ve ever had. He always seems tired and bored, like being at school is a chore, so this wasn’t the best news.

  The drama teacher, Ms. Benson, was also judging. I’d never had her as a teacher but I recognized her because she always wears a brightly colored scarf on her head, since she’d recently beaten leukemia. She’d lost all of her hair during the treatment and it hadn’t grown back yet. Today’s scarf was red with purple polka dots, which sounds weird but looked cool, especially with her silky black dress and gold hoop earrings.

  The third teacher’s name was Ms. Lerner. She taught eighth-grade math and looked young enough to be a student, almost. Lots of boys have crushes on her, I’ve heard, and I could see why. She’s pretty, with large brown eyes and super-long blondish-brownish pin-straight hair that comes all the way to her waist. She dressed in stylish clothes—skinny jeans, tall high-heeled boots, and sparkly tops with long necklaces and bracelets that jangled when she moved.

  All three judges sat at a table in front of the stage with official-looking yellow legal pads in front of them.

  No one was onstage at the moment, so Pepper and I headed on over to them. “Hi,” I said tentatively. “I’m Annabelle Stevens. I was supposed to audition earlier, but I had a slight problem.”

  “Annabelle and her furry friend,” Mr. Beller said, consulting his list of names. “I believe we called your number ten minutes ago and now we’re already on act number thirty-three.”

  “I’m so sorry!” I said. “Can you please let me go on? My mom was supposed to drop Pepper off an hour ago, but she never showed.”

  “What a cute puppy,” Ms. Lerner said, smiling at me. “Your friend Oliver explained the situation. So we’ve decided that you can go on last if we still have time.”

  “That’s great news!” I said. “Thank you so much.”

  Pepper sniffed at Mr. Beller’s pant leg.

  “Your dog is housebroken, I take it?” said Mr. Beller.

  “Oh, of course,” I said.

  “Good. Now please go backstage so we can continue.”

  “Right, of course. Thank you, again.” I was so grateful for getting a second shot that I practically curtsied for the judges.

  “Don’t thank us yet,” said Mr. Beller.

  “Okay, thank—I mean. Okay. Just okay.”

  “This better be good,” he mumbled.

  I felt the same way.

  As Pepper and I made our way backstage, Tobias walked onto the main stage. He was dressed as a magician in a black-and-purple cape, a baggy black suit with a silver tie, and a large top hat. He carried a card table, which he set up quickly, his magic wand clutched between his teeth to free up both of his hands.

  Pepper and I waited in the wings so we could watch him. I was curious because Tobias was less his goofball self and more serious than I’d ever seen him before. And his tricks were impressive.

  Tobias asked Ms. Lerner to pick a card from his deck and then place it, facedown, in a random spot in the pile. He then had her shuffle the cards. When he cut the deck he revealed the card she’d chosen. Next he sawed a lady in half. Okay, the “lady” was actually a stuffed doll, but it was still cool. Then he pulled a fake bunny out of his hat. He also turned his wand into a bouquet of red and purple tulips. With each new trick he explained what he was going to do, methodically. And then, right before the magic happened, he announced, “Abracadabra, Kalamaz
oo, kazaam,” in a booming voice, just like a real magician would.

  The three judges clapped when he finished his act and I did, too. It seemed obvious that Tobias would make the cut.

  “Good job,” I said to him as he passed me by.

  “Thanks, Spazabelle.” He reached out and rubbed my head, messing up my hair and annoying me only slightly. “Hope you and Pepper don’t choke.”

  I laughed. This was the Tobias I knew and didn’t love. “Me, too,” I replied.

  Ms. Benson called the next number—thirty-seven. When no one showed up, she asked for the group by name. “Is Ruby Wentworth here? Ruby Wentworth, who’s supposed to do some … Oh, dear, this can’t be right. She said she’s going to be sword swallowing. That must be a joke …”

  Just then a boy jogged onto the stage. “Ruby’s not here. She went home sick this morning. Sore throat.”

  “Not surprising,” said Ms. Benson, clutching her own throat. “Poor child.”

  “Annabelle?” called Mr. Beller. “Why don’t you take Ruby’s place, since you’re right here?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Come on, Pepper.” I moved forward, but Pepper did not. Instead he stared at the ground with this strangely blank expression in his eyes. “Let’s go, buddy,” I tried again, tugging at his leash.

  Pepper whimpered and rested his head on his front paws.

  Uh-oh.

  “This is no time for you to get stage fright, buddy. Come on, Pep. We’ve got to go.” I tugged on his leash again—not too hard because I didn’t want to hurt him. But he had to know I meant business.

  “Annabelle?” called Ms. Benson. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said. “Pepper’s just … Well, I don’t know what Pepper is doing. He’s never acted like this before, but we’ll be there in a second.” I bent down and scratched Pepper behind his ears. “Come on, guy. We’ve got to get out there onstage so you can do your thing, okay? It’ll be fun. I’ll give you a cookie after.”

  Pepper’s ears pricked up at the mention of a cookie and he finally stood.

  Once we got onstage Ms. Lerner said, “Please introduce yourself and tell us about your act.”

  I squinted out at the judges and the otherwise empty auditorium.

  “I’m Annabelle Stevens and this is my dog, Pepper,” I said. “I’m his trainer, and we’re going to do some tricks.”

  I dropped Pepper’s leash and commanded him to sit.

  And that was my first mistake.

  Pepper did not sit.

  Pepper did the opposite of sitting.

  Pepper sprang into action. In other words—he ran away.

  Head bent in concentration, back arched, and legs moving so fast they blurred, Pepper galloped offstage like a racehorse.

  “Pepper, wait!” I yelled, but he didn’t hear me, or at least he didn’t acknowledge me. I have never seen my dog move so fast.

  Seconds later I heard the crash of cymbals.

  When I got close, I found Hunter Miller on the ground. Pepper had crashed into his one-man band.

  “Sorry!” I said, chasing after Pepper and tripping on his drum. “Sorry again.” I went for Pepper’s leash, but he was too fast for me.

  Soon he darted under a table, out of sight. “Dog on the loose!” someone shouted.

  For some reason, a bunch of kids backstage started yelling—as if Pepper were some sort of monster and not an overly excited mutt.

  And the noise just got him more riled up. I couldn’t see Pepper anymore, but I could hear him barking frantically.

  “Where is he?” I asked, tearing through the crowd, surprised by how many kids were backstage.

  I saw singers in sequins and some pirates of the Caribbean. One of them looked just like Johnny Depp’s character from the movie, with thick black eyeliner, a ruffled shirt, and everything. There was also a barbershop quartet and one eighth-grade baker whose name I didn’t know, glaring at me and obviously thinking thoughts I didn’t want to hear. Before I passed him by he stopped me in my tracks.

  “Your dog just ate my key lime pie,” he said, pulling his tall white chef’s hat straight.

  “Pepper ate a pie?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said the baker. “And I am not amused.”

  “Um, neither am I.” I gulped an apology before turning away.

  Meanwhile, someone from the string quartet was in the middle of a sneezing fit. “Will you get that thing out of here? I’m allergic.”

  “He’s not a thing,” I said, insulted. “He’s a dog. And do you know where he is?”

  The baker did not know and neither did the singers or the string players. I searched the area for a friend or even simply an acquaintance—but I couldn’t find a soul to help me catch Pepper. And soon his barks faded, leaving me with no idea of where my dog had disappeared to. Until suddenly a familiar scream from the main stage answered my question.

  I ran onto the stage to find Pepper tangled with Taylor’s dance crew. Taylor was on the ground with Nikki, Hannah, and Jesse all huddled around her.

  Finally Pepper ran up to me and jumped, licking my face, joyously and completely oblivious to all the chaos he’d caused. “What happened?” I asked.

  “Your dumb dog knocked me over and put a run in my stockings,” said Taylor as she got to her feet. She turned toward the judges. “That’s not fair. We need another shot.”

  “Of course,” said Ms. Benson. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Suddenly Pepper sat down and offered me his paw. I kneeled in front of him and scratched him behind the ears. “You okay, buddy?” I asked. And then I looked at Ms. Benson, Mr. Beller, and Ms. Lerner.

  “I guess there’s no point in me asking for another shot, too, huh?” I asked. “Because Pepper seems much calmer now. I’m sure he’ll do great.”

  It was true, too. Now that Pepper had finished his freak-out moment he sat at my feet, totally relaxed, friendly, and obedient.

  As his tail wagged the judges looked at each other. Then Mr. Beller cleared his throat. “I think it’s time for you and your dog to go home now, Annabelle.”

  Chapter Seven

  the Official Cut

  It couldn’t have been that bad,” Oliver said, trying to reassure me on the phone later that night.

  “No, it was worse than bad,” I said. “You didn’t see.”

  “I know, but I heard it was pretty wild.”

  “You heard?” I cringed. “From whom?”

  “From everyone,” Oliver said.

  “Everyone? Um, what’s the opposite of reassuring?”

  Oliver laughed. “Sorry. Not everyone. Just a few people. Tobias told me first. And honestly? He seemed way impressed that you could cause that much chaos so quickly. And Fred. He was, well … impressed wouldn’t be the right word.”

  “Fred? I don’t even know anyone named Fred.”

  “Maybe not, but your dog is very familiar with his key lime pie.”

  “Oh, Fred, the baker,” I said. “You know that guy? I can still picture his fuming face. Good to know I have enemies I can’t even name.”

  Oliver laughed. “It’s not so bad. Plus, now you can name him.”

  “Ha! Here I am laughing while my dog is ruining my life! I should’ve known he’d freak out at school.”

  “How could you have known that?” asked Oliver.

  “I don’t know. I’m just so upset that I can’t be in the talent show anymore. Everyone is in the talent show.”

  “The final list isn’t even up yet. And you have lots of talent. You don’t need to prove it.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say.”

  “I’m not saying it to be sweet. I’m saying it to be honest,” Oliver replied matter-of-factly. “Who beat me at hoops the other day?”

  “I did,” I said, smiling. “But basketball isn’t a talent. It’s not like I’ll ever play for the WNBA.”

  “You don’t know that,” said Oliver. “Now, what did you get for number six?”

  “
Thirty-seven,” I replied.

  “Good. Me, too.”

  Oliver and I were doing our math homework together, since we had the same teacher. Our classes met at different times but the homework was always the same. And he’d called me a little while ago asking for help.

  I suddenly heard a knock on the door. It was my mom, whom I hadn’t seen since the Pepper freak-out incident. But wait—let me be more specific: I hadn’t wanted to see her and I still didn’t.

  She came into my room and flashed me a sheepish smile as she sat down on my bed.

  I groaned and said to Oliver, “I’ve got to go.”

  “Okay, see you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Bye.”

  As soon as I hung up my mom launched into a gushy and much-too-late apology. “I’m so sorry about Pepper, sweetie.”

  “What happened?” I asked. “Where were you?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s embarrassing, but I simply forgot. I don’t know where my head is these days. I knew I had to bring you Pepper this morning. I even put some dog treats in my purse. I was running errands, and the entire thing slipped my mind.”

  The way she said “slipped her mind” made me think of someone falling on a banana peel. Which made me think of clowns and how clowning was one of the talents of this group of seventh-grade boys. And how everyone has a cool act for the talent show except for me.

  It didn’t make total sense, but I felt like if my mom had brought Pepper to school when she was supposed to, if he’d had time to get used to all the sights and sounds and smells, and if I hadn’t rushed him to the stage, well then maybe things wouldn’t have gone haywire.

  And I was not about to let my mom off the hook so easily. “I can’t believe you forgot something so important.”

  “I know. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

  “Really? Will you build a time machine so we can go back to this morning and start over? Because that’s the only way to make it up to me,” I huffed.

  “I was thinking more like maybe we can get some frozen yogurt or go on a hike this weekend. Unless you’d rather go to the beach.”

  “Frozen yogurt is not going to get me into the talent show,” I informed her. “But I guess we might as well go for that hike, since I’ll have plenty of free time this weekend.”