Hotel for Dogs by Lois Duncan ch 4-1
CHAPTER FOUR “I don't care,” Andi said. “You can't break a promise, Bruce, no matter what.” “But don't you see, I didn't know what I was promising! If I'd known, I wouldn't have promised.” Bruce regarded his sister with exasperation. Andi was the most interesting person he knew, even if she was part of his family. There were things wrong with her, to be sure — she was always shutting herself off someplace with her scribbling, and she had a bad temper, and sometimes she told lies. But she was never boring. Most of the boys he knew complained about their sisters being drags. With Andi it was just the opposite; she never dragged. Sometimes, like now, Bruce almost wished that she did.
“Look, sis,” he said as patiently as he could, “you know as well as I do that we can't keep dogs here. Mom and Dad explained it to us before we left home, and you heard Aunt Alice at dinner tonight. All you have to do is mention the word ‘dog' and her nose starts dripping.” “I don't know why you're acting this way,” Andi said. “You didn't start lecturing out in the kitchen. You said that you'd help me find the dog and feed her.” “Well, sure, I wanted to feed her,” Bruce said reasonably. “I wouldn't want any animal to starve. I could see letting her in out of a rainstorm, too. Keeping her here is something else. We can't do that. Besides, it's not just one dog now — it's four.” “What do you want to do, throw them out on the street?” Andi asked, trying to sound reasonable also. “With those little puppies just an hour old? And the nights turning cold — and maybe more rain — and nothing to eat —” “If we told Dad and Mom —” Bruce began. “What could they do? You can't find homes for puppies this little; they have to stay with their mother. You know what the grown-ups would do. They'd send them to the pound.” “Oh, no!” Bruce said. This was something he had not thought about. He had gone with his parents to the pound in Albuquerque the day they got Bebe for Andi's Christmas present. He still could remember the cages of sad-faced animals, all waiting hopefully for somebody to adopt them.
“I'll tell you what,” he said slowly. “We won't do anything tonight. The dogs are all settled, and nobody has to know about them. In the morning, of course, there'll be a problem. After we leave for school, Mom or Aunt Alice might come in here —” “I won't go to school,” Andi said. “I'll have a stomachache.” “I guess you could do that,” Bruce agreed. “Mom always believes your stomachaches, and that way you could keep the door closed and say you wanted to sleep. That would give me a day to come up with some kind of plan. I hope I can do it in a day.” “Oh, I'm sure you can,” Andi said confidently. She smiled, all the worry gone from her face.
Bruce, himself, was not nearly so certain. He stayed awake a long time that night thinking about the problem, and he concentrated on it so hard at school the next day that he missed three questions on his math quiz. Math had always been easy for Bruce, so he was shocked when the teacher called out the grades.
From his seat in the next row, Jerry Gordon turned and grinned. It was such a pleased grin that Bruce was angrier with himself than ever.
It had been an unpleasant surprise on the first day of school to find Jerry in the class with him. It had been a shock for Jerry as well.
“What are you doing here?” he had asked that first morning, when the two boys had found themselves side by side in the same homeroom. “You're not big enough for middle school.” “I was twelve in February,” Bruce told him coldly. “Nobody would guess it. You look like you ought to be in kindergarten.” “Boys!” Miss Lowry had spoken from the front of the room. At the sound of her voice, Jerry's expression changed completely. Glancing up quickly, he gave the teacher a warm, bright smile.
“I'm sorry, Miss Lowry. I was just trying to help our new student feel at home.” “That was nice of you, Jerry.” Miss Lowry's stern face softened. “You're very thoughtful, and I know Bruce appreciates it. Let's save our chatting for the playground and lunchroom, though. Okay?” “Sure, Miss Lowry.” Jerry dropped his eyes as though embarrassed. Under his lowered lids he shot Bruce a side glance.
“Save your chatting for the playground, shrimp, if you can find anybody to chat with,” he whispered, as Miss Lowry turned her attention to a student on the other side of the room. “You're going to have a hard time finding any buds in this class, I can promise you that.” As days went by, the statement had turned out to be more true than Bruce had expected. Jerry Gordon was the leader of the neighborhood gang, which seemed to consist of most of the boys in the seventh grade. On the playground, it was Jerry who chose what games they played and told people which sides they were on, and it was Jerry who organized the after-school activities and conducted special meetings in the basement of his home.
